black camero

anonymous asked:

Could you write Sethkate - she's mad at him because he almost "let" Amaru kill him to touch her, and she would have just had to watch? :( Ends in hot passion-loving kissing!

Whew boy… some of these prompt end up running long. I really like the beginning of it, with her thought process. I’m not completely sold on the switch. I  LOVED this prompt. I hope I did it justice. SethKate for sure. 


Without A Fight (…but there is a fight)  

Sometimes she thinks that they’ve taught her to steal too well. That it’s now often too easy and too second nature. She’s sitting alone on the trunk of the black Camero with a Pal-Mal that she’d pilfered from Richie pack hanging out of her mouth and whiskey-sour that she took from Seth’s desk in her hands. Stealing a thing isn’t a thing. It doesn’t bother her to steal from them and why should it? They stole her first. She’s not really angry at them, but her anger is overwhelming on nights like this when she wakes up from a nightmare.

Nights like tonight when she dozed off listening to the boys plan their next job and the next thing she knew she was waking up to the haunted memories of the last moments of lives Amaru took. Pulling someone's​ soul away from them, that is the type of stealing from which there is no redemption from. She knows on some logical level that she had no control over what Amaru had done, but some nights that knowledge was simply no comfort.

The doctor had been thinking about his wife and children, how he loved them and how he was going to a break his promise to be at his daughter’s soccer game. The nurse had been thinking about how he was only at this job for a few more days. Manola couldn’t believe that she was dying in front of her lover and she didn’t want Kisa to blame herself. Her brother had been broken; seeing her in the flesh, all his thoughts were consumed with God’s judgement. Richie’s mind was a mess: the logical half screaming to fight back, while the rest of wanted to save her. All of them, every soul that Amaru took felt fear and panic; none of them had wanted to die. But Seth…

When Amaru touched Seth all she felt was devastating guilt and how he deserved this. It wasn’t like the remorse that Scott felt, because he was still trying to resist, but Seth hadn’t even tried to fight back. He stood there and took it, just let her start to kill him… And for what? For the sake of guilt? For some twisted sense of he’d earned it? Penance? She’d begged him to kill her. She didn’t want to watch him die or let that twisted demon kill anyone else, but he didn’t even try to stop her.

She throws the glass across the parking lot and it shattered against the pavement. She fights the urge to just start screaming. The back door opens and closes behind her and it’s only a single puff of the cigarette before she smells gun-oil and earthy aftershave.

“You alright, Princess?” He leans against the car, close enough to, but not quite touching her.

She flicks the cigarette way and watches it snuff itself out on the wet pavement. “Peachy.” She’s trying to remember all the relaxation techniques that she’s learned over the past few months so she doesn’t explode. Her ears feel hot and she’s still thinking about screaming consequences be damned.

“Yeah you sure sound like it.” He huffs, because he hates secrets, hates it when he doesn’t know what the people around him are thinking. “You take my drink, just to break the glass?

“Take it out of my cut.” She growls.

He arches his eyebrow, “What the hell is up your craw?”

“Nothing. I’m allowed to be mad.”

“Okay. So what the fuck are you so pissed about?”

She grinds her teeth together. “You.”

“Me? I didn’t do anything!” He pushes himself away from the car and looks up as rain drops start pinging on the cars in the lot.

“That’s the problem.” She folds her arms over her chest.

He looks agitated, “I’m not playing this game. I’m not playing the pronoun game where you say something cryptic and then we play twenty questions until you finally tell me what’s got you so pissed. You want to tell me; then tell me.  We need to get inside before this damn rain hits us. Come on.”

Lightning illuminates the parking lot and the rain starts pouring down on them. He grabs her hands and jerks her off the car, trying to drag her back into Jed’s, but she resists. She doesn’t want to go back inside, she’s angry and she doesn’t care about the rain.

“I’d rather play in the darkness, thank you.” She snips pulling her hands away and planting her feet. There’s this rush in her ears, screaming at her to push all of his buttons. Make him pay for all the pain he caused her, so she picks words that’ll bring up bad memories.

He advances into her space, much like he did in those Mexican motels, when she’d challenge him and he’d reach by her to collect his drugs. This time his eyes aren’t angry, there’s almost a softness to them as he gets so close she can feel his body heat, despite the chill of the rain. “What is wrong? What didn’t I do? You gotta talk to me.”

She has to look up when he’s this close, he’s got a few inches on her and it used to intimidate her, but those days are long gone. “You were going to let her kill you.”

“Who? The guard at the bank? She never even touched her gun. I had…”

“Amaru.” She digs her nails into her palms, she hates saying that name out loud. “You didn’t even resist when she tried to try to take your soul. You were going to let her kill you.”

He blinks and whether it’s from the rain or her words she isn’t sure. “It’s not like I knew what was happening.”

“Bullshit.” She calls him out, jamming her finger into his chest. “You felt exactly what she was doing and were going to let her. I could hear you, thinking some twisted idea about how you deserved it.”

“I did. I did deserve it.” He growls looming over her now, but not touching. “All that shit I put you through. I deserved…”

“Well I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve to watch you die. You think I wanted to watch that?” He steps back slightly but she advances back into his space, not letting him get away. “Do you have any idea how that felt?!? Her laughing in my mind about you being a sacrificial lamb! Do you know what it would have done to me to watch you die? How my heart would have broken…”

His hands are suddenly buried in her hair and his mouth is on hers insistent, demanding more with every inch he takes. The rain is pouring down now, but she barely feels it. All can she feel is his heat. He’s alive and he’s here. She grabs his tie to pull him closer and moans as he forces his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. One of his hands leaves her hair and grips her hip, pulling her flush with him while he backs her up against the car. She gasps as his mouth finds her neck, biting and mouthing his way down as one of his hands slips under her shirt.

The rain is soaking them, but she doesn’t care. She wants this…She just wants. She’s achy and needy and her body feels so raw as he pours all of his energy into her like a electricity. She’s hot and cold all at the same time and she just doesn’t know what to do with all of it. She’s hungry and there’s this overpowering emptiness that needs to be filled. She wants to feel this, feel him. How can she be mad at him one moment and letting him grope her the next. Maybe she’s just going mad. Richie told her once that love is the ultimate insanity and the cure for it all wrapped up together. All she knows is that she needs Seth and everything he’s giving her. She digs her nails into his shoulder as she pushes herself back up on the trunk.

“Tell me to stop.” He snarls against her ear, there’s a low, dangerous quality to his voice that she forgot he had, but instead of scaring her it makes her grind against him. She wants all of him, the dangerous part, the gentle part…she wants all of it. She wants him. “Tell to me stop, Kate.”

She doesn’t.

Great prompt so much fun! Thanks for it, anon. Love to my Loves.

Promised ~ pt.1

Author: completedylantrash

Characters: OFC x Stiles (and other TW characters)

Rating: Mature 18+

Word Count: 4202

A/N: This is a AU multi. There will be smut but I wanted to try to build it a little. So here it goes, hope y’all like it!



Fate is believed to be the hidden power that controls what happens in the future. But is it real? Is there someone, or something, each one of us is destined for? Some people believe yes. Others, like me, not so much. I just think that everyone is responsible for their own life, their future, not some force that determines how they’re meant to spend their life.

Keep reading

The color Blue - Castiel Imagine

Request - Could you write me a Sam or cas imagine? I only have dean imagines on this blog atm 
Have it like, you meet them for the first time when you’re both impersonating FBI because the reader is a hunter and they end up running into each other again halfway through the hunt and the reader gets hurt…FLUFFY FLUFF 
I’ll read it and then if it’s good I’ll add you as a member and you can post it :D

Writer - necessary-sass

——————————————————————-

Your name: submit What is this?

“Damn it.” You curse as you mess up your eyeliner, the wing was all wrong along your left eye. You were sitting in your black 1969 Chevrolet Camero, Led Zeppelin blasting through the speakers, parked outside of the police station of the sleepy Idaho town called Aldridge. You were here due to a lead that a fellow hunter named Rufus had called to your attention. He was busy on a vamp hunt, so he needed someone else to take care of the vengeful spirit that killed an old man and strung his guts around the house like Christmas tinsel. This ghost was pissed, and pretty psychotic in your opinion. 
Anyway, you were about to interview his wife, the one who found him, poor thing. Must’ve sucked, to find your husband’s insides decorating the living room. 

“There we go, much better.” You say, your eyeliner in place. Stuffing your makeup in your bag, you flipped up the mirror and climbed out of the car, not so gracefully thanks to the heels that were killing your feet. “Can’t wait till this is over and I can get these torture tools off.” You mutter about your damn shoes. You hated heels, and preferred combat boots or even going barefoot over the trending swords-for-your-feet. Oh well, it was what the job called for. You doubted that walking around in combat boots claiming to be an FBI agent would be thought of as credible. 

You walked through the doors of the police station, pulling out your “official” FBI badge. “FBI. Here to interview Mrs. Johnson about her husband’s case.” The young man at the desk looks up, and at seeing the badge in your hand launches into a frenzy. 

“Of course, ma’am. R-right through the door and down the hall, first room on the right. Chief’s there too.” You nod your head briefly in thanks and power-walk to the door. Desk-boy follows you, barely able to keep up with you, despite the self-harming weapons on your feet. “Can I get you anything, ma’am? A soda, tea, coffee? A pastry? Water?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks.” You say, pushing through the door and into the room, a group of overweight men with mustaches and donuts crowded the room, laughing and joking. You see a window on one side of the room, showing an all-white room, with an elderly woman sitting at a metal table, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. The men in the room ignore her. 

“Ahem.” You say. The men turn towards you. A leering grin slithers onto the face of a chubby bald man, who is sitting closest to where you were standing.

“Well looky here, fellas. We gotta purdy lady in our comp’ny. How can I be of assistance to such an attractive woman?” Was this man flirting with you? His eyes raked up and down your body, the stupid smirk growing. Your face scrunched up in disgust, and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to flip him off. You settled with raising your badge. You grin, seeing his sneer slide off his face like a deflating balloon when he sees his mistake.

“FBI. Here to interview the vic’s wife. Are you going to let me through or do I have to write you up?” You say, barely suppressing a sneer at his panicked expression. 

“Uh-” Before he can choke out an apology, the door opens behind you, and you spin around to see two very attractive men striding through the door. Your heart stops, as you see their suits. They were real FBI agents, and they would figure out that you posing as a government official and would throw you in prison faster than you could say “guilty”. But before you could do or say anything, you see a flash of fear in the two men’s eyes at seeing you, and realize that these men were posing as FBI agents like you. Winking at them, you discreetly cross and X mark over your badge with your finger. Your message was clear. Cover for me and I’ll cover for you. The taller man must have understood, as he nods his head and introduces himself. 

“Hello, I’m Agent Ehart and this is my partner, Agent Williams.” 

“Agent Walsh.” You say, suppressing a smirk. These men were no FBI agents. They were Kansas fans, like you. Maybe they were hunters, too. Maybe. “You here for the Johnson case?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The shorter one says, catching on.

“Well, that’s to bad. This is my case, I was assigned it. Now if all of you will excuse me, I’m going to solve it.” You start to the door, ignoring the “agent’s” protests. Opening the door, you step into the interrogation room. “Hello, Mrs. Johnson. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Forty minutes later, you leave the room, thanking Mrs. Johnson for her cooperation. You get your things, a little miffed that that guy never brought you your coffee. Walking out of the station to your car, you’re stopped by someone calling you to stop.

“Hey, wait!” You turn, and see the two men from earlier standing in front of you. 

“Oh, it’s you. Make this quick, I have to go.” You say, tensing. Let’s just say you didn’t like being alone in a parking lot with two very tall men that could easily take you down. Nope, didn’t like it at all.

“You’re not in the FBI, are you?” The taller man says, and you squint suspiciously. You didn’t trust these men. Not one bit. Then again, you didn’t trust much at all. Hunter’s instinct, you guess.

“What makes you say that?” 

“C’mon, let’s drop this Kansas role-play and come clean. We know you’re a hunter.” The shorter man says. Quick as a flash, the two men are doused in holy water. You clutch your flask, pulling out your gun, ready to shoot. The “men” aren’t writhing in pain at the contact with the blessed water, so that rules out demons. But how else could they know?

“What the hell are you and how do you know I’m a hunter?” You whisper urgently, not wanting to attract attention from the station. 

“Well you pretty much just confirmed that. You can put the Jesus juice away, sweetheart, we ain’t demons. Or ghosts, or monsters. We’re humans. So chill out and tell us what we know so we can gank the spirit and leave this crap hole of a town.” The shorter man says, annoyance audible in his voice. You lower your gun, slowly. “There ya go, sweetheart. Now if you’ll just tell us what the old broad told you, we’ll go gank the spirit and you’ll never hear from us again.”
A smile plays across your lips. These guys weren’t serious. This was your case, you weren’t about to hand it over like a gift-basket. 

“Do you two asshats really think that I’m just gonna give you my case and drive off into the sunset? I don’t think so. I have enough on my plate and don’t need babysitting Thelma and Louise to be added to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You walk the remaining steps to your car and open the front door. Before you can climb in, the taller one puts his hand on the door to stop you. 

“Listen, all we’re trying to do here is finish a hunt. We understand if you don’t need our help-”

“I don’t.”

“And we believe you. All we wanna know is what the lady told you. We‘re not trying to steal your hunt, we‘re just saying we could help you. Even though you don’t need it.” You open your mouth, then close it. You sigh, realizing Bigfoot here was right. Having them tag along couldn’t hurt, could it? You give in, and tell them what the old dame told you. Turns out, awhile back, Mr. Johnson had an affair. The Mrs. found out, and gave the Mister and ultimatum. Mister chose the Missus, dumps the mistress. Mistress was so heartbroken, she killed herself.

“Well, that sounds like your classic vengeful spirit. Know where she was buried?“ 

“Cremated. However, Mr. Johnson did keep a lock of her hair in a locket in his nightstand.” 

“Well, what do ya say we go gank her?” The shorter one suggests. You nod your head. 

“Meet you there. Here’s the address.” You say, handing the shorter man a slip of paper with the address scrawled onto it with black ink.
The taller one drops his arm from your car door. “Name’s Dean Winchester, by the way, and this is my brother Sam.” The shorter man says.

“Y/N . Nice to meet you, Winchesters.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Y/N .” Dean says, winking at you. Rolling your eyes, you climb into your car and turn it on. Led Zeppelin immediately greets your ears via the speakers. “Zeppelin?” Dean asks, his eyebrows raised in interest. You nod, and shut the door. Dean and Sam chuckling is the last thing you see before you drive off.

An hour later, you arrive at the old house. Luckily, you had dropped by your motel to change out of your horrid FBI apparel, and now sported a leather jacket, a Rolling Stones T-Shirt, some old jeans and combat boots. 

The sky was turning a brilliant yellow-orange with tinges of purple and pink, announcing that the sun was preparing for it’s daily departure. You kill the engine and climb out of the driver’s seat, heading to the arsenal you had stored in your trunk. A black Impala pulled into the driveway behind you, the two brothers visible from the windshield. Dean was driving and Sam rode shotgun. As the car stopped, you noticed a third person sitting in the back. Your eyebrows furrowed. What the hell were they thinking, bringing a third person on a hunt with you and not even bothering to tell you? Idiots. You strode toward the Impala, pissed. The Winchesters had gotten out of the car by now.

“Hey Y/N ! We‘d like you to meet someone!” Dean said, a grin on his face. Before you could curse them out for bringing some stranger along on a hunt, a man climbed out of the car. Your breath hitched in your throat. The man was clad in a tan trench coat, with dark hair and the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. Wasn’t that bad looking, either. His unblinking blue eyes locked onto your Y/E/C ones with such intensity that you involuntarily took a step back. Get a grip. You think furiously. Stay focused. 

“Y/N , this is Castiel. Cas, this is Y/N . The one we told you about.” Sam says, introducing you to the strange man.
Cas nods in acknowledgement. “Hello.”

You clench your jaw and nod jerkily back. You open your mouth, fully intending to yell at the Winchesters, but nothing comes out. You have no idea what was so unsettling about this man. Possibly the intensity of his eyes as they stared at you. Or maybe it was the feeling that this man wasn’t human. 
No. Relax. You can get to the bottom of this. Just stay cool. Be assertive. 

“Wh-what the hell kind of name is Castiel?” You ask, your voice unsteady. Damn. So much for being assertive. 
Dean shuffles his feet and exhales deeply. “Oh, well, umm, about that-”

“I’m an angel of the Lord.” Castiel’s deep, gruff voice interrupts Dean’s stuttering one. Your eyes widen and you take another step back, glancing at the brothers. Dean wipes his face with his hands, sighing deeply. Sam gives you an awkward, apologetic smile and shrugs his huge shoulders. 

“Cas, what did we say about telling people that?” Dean’s gravelly voice is awash with annoyance. 

“I don’t understand how my being an angel should be such a shock to your race.” Cas says, confusion written all over his face.

“Are you serious?” You say, your temper growing. These guys couldn’t be.

“Yeah, we kind of are.” Sam says apologetically. 

“Yeah, right. Angels aren’t real, you asshat!“ 

“Obviously, that is incorrect. I am very much an angel, and very much real.” Cas’s voice was infuriatingly calm.

“Well- then prove it!” You were shouting now, your temper was lost. You did not have time for some assholes to be playing jokes on you. 

“That would prove difficult, since there is no scenario possible at the moment which I could do so without seriously maiming or killing you.”

“He can teleport.” Dean says.

“So can demons, dumbass. Something else.” You say.

“Perhaps if you had an injury, then I could heal you.” That was it. The last straw. This joke had gone too far for you and your short temper. You spun around to your trunk and grabbed a knife. “You better be serious, you hear me, you ass?” You hiss. You ripped off your jacket, exposing your arms. Taking your knife in your right hand, you raked it up the length of your left arm. It was a shallow wound and the pain was bearable, but it still hurt. Blood poured steadily from your cut, down your arm and into your palm, then dripping down onto the cement, creating a dark stain. You cursed under your breath.

You lift your gaze from your wound to Cas. “Well, you gonna heal me or-” before you can finish your sentence, he lifts his middle and forefinger to your forehead. A warmth suddenly spreads throughout your body, feeling like sunlight. In a second, it’s over, and the pain is gone. You look down at your arm, and inhale sharply when you see no trace of the gash you inflicted. You look back up at Cas in shock, and his cobalt eyes stare back. You break away from his steady gaze and look at the Winchesters. They both shrug, Sam giving a half smile and Dean running his hand through his short hair. 
Well then. That wasn’t freaky.

“We-we should, uh…we should burn the hair.” You say, putting the knife back in the trunk. 

“Yeah.” Sam says.

“Well, this should be fun.” Dean says, winking at you yet again. Shaking your head, you shut the trunk. “Nice car, by the way.” Dean says. 

“Thanks. It was my granddad’s.”

“Camero?” 

“Yeah.”

“Nice.”

“That an Impala?”

“Oh, yeah. 67.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah, my baby’s something special.” Dean says, looking at his car fondly. Turning his gaze back to you, he continues his flirtations. “Maybe we can take a drive sometime? Show you the sights.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You say, loading your shotgun with salt. You were not going out with this guy. Attractive or not, he wasn’t your type. Sam chuckles, making you grin. Maybe these guys weren’t so bad. You’ve definitely known worse guys, and these three seemed decent. Well, you still had reservations, especially for that Cas guy. He was…different. 

“Ready?” You say, finishing loading up your guns. 

“Yup.” Sam says. Dean mutters something under his breath. Poor guy, must not get rejected a lot. Oh well. Wasn’t your problem. You look up from your gun to see Cas watching you. He looks away quickly once he sees that you noticed. Huh. 

“Well, come on then.” You say, closing the barrel of your shotgun. You walk towards the house, your gun ready to fire incase the spirit showed up. The three men, well really two men and the angel if you were gonna get technical, had formed a diamond shape, the brothers on either side of you and Cas in the rear. When you got to the door, Dean reached for the knob and tried it. Locked. Of course. Dean cursed and muttered something about getting a lock pick. Shushing him, you reach into your jean pocket and grab a hair pin. Perfect. Ten seconds later, the door swings open, and the smell of blood and death hits you like a gust of wind.  Motioning the brothers to follow, you step inside the entryway of the house. The wood floor creaks under your weight, and you freeze, silently cursing yourself. 

After a few seconds, nothing happens. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Looking back at the three guys behind you, you shrug and mouth “What the hell?” The brothers shrug, and Cas just stands still, looking around the foyer, his body tense, as if danger was hiding in every corner. Well, it probably was, you reminded yourself. You scan the room and see a stair case. Perfect. You walk silently and carefully as a cat, taking care not to make any more sounds. It worked for you, but unfortunately, not for the Winchesters, who were basically two giants in plaid and probably together weighed the same as an elephant. You turn round to face them and lift a finger to your lips, and then hold your hand up to signal them to stay where they are. You point to yourself, then the stairs. They shake their head, and you can tell what they’re trying to say. Too dangerous. You clench your jaw in frustration. 

“Any better ideas?” You mouth silently. Cas nods, then disappears. Shit. Where the hell did he go?! You think angrily. The little pigeon-man left us. Before you can curse him out, however, you hear a crash from the upstairs and Cas appears in front of you, a locket in his hands. Genius. You get your lighter and take the locket, thinking how great it was that this would be such an easy job.  You had just switched the flame on when you felt a ice-cold hand seize your throat in a death grip. Before you can react, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you get a swooping sensation in your stomach as you’re flung across the room, your back hitting something hard. You hear a shattering sound, and horrible pain blossoms from your back and right shoulder. Your back was on fire, it hurt so much. You scream, the pain unbearable. Black dots speckle your vision, and you see the boys running toward you, screaming your name. A second later, you feel the same freezing hand lock around your throat, cutting off your air and your scream. A face appears in front of your own, and you see what once must have been a beautiful woman. Now, however, she wasn’t so much. She had a face that was grey and bloodless and riddle with cuts and scars. She had cut that looked like it came from a rope around her neck. 

It was the spirit. And she was pissed.

She lifted you up, forcing your bleeding back up the wall. You feel something cutting into your wounded back, and you scream, your back ablaze with the pain you felt from the cuts. The woman laughed as you screamed, well tried to, since you couldn’t breathe or make a sound. The pain and lack of oxygen was getting to you, and your vision was fading. She raised her free hand in front of your eyes, the hand scabbed and colorless, like grey rubber. Or that could just be your fading gaze making it look that way. The woman grinned as she lowered her hand right over your stomach. Oh no. Your guts were gonna end up like Poor Mr. Johnson.

You close your eyes, your body going faint from blood loss and lack of oxygen. You prepared yourself for the end. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt that much. 
Her hand had just made contact with your stomach when you heard a screech and felt the pressure on your throat disappear. You crumple to the floor, since she was the only thing holding you up. Luckily, arms catch you before you hit the floor that was peppered with glass shards. You must have hit a mirror or something. 

“Y/N! Y/N! Stay with me! Come on! CAS!” Someone’s voice, Sam’s, you think, sounds weird. You realize why. Sam must be underwater, that’s why his voice sounds so distant. Why would Sam be underwater? You open your mouth to tell him how silly it was that he was underwater, because it couldn’t be at the worst time. All that comes out, though, is a small whimper. 

“Sam, move!” Cas’s voice sounds even farther away. You’re getting frustrated. Why were they swimming at a time like this?

“Y/N! Look at me! Open your eyes!” Cas’s voice commands. Why was he being so bossy? You just want to sleep, can’t they see that? 
You try to open your eyes, but you were so tired. Somehow, you succeed. Your eyes blink open, slowly. “What is it, Cas?” Your voice is so quiet, you’re surprised he can hear you. 

“Y/N, don’t go to sleep, I’ll heal you, alright? You must stay awake. You must stay awake!” Cas was being so bossy, he needed to lighten up. What was so bad about taking a nap? You glare at him for keeping you up. Unfortunately, you look at his eyes, and are distracted by how beautiful they are. They’re the bluest blue you’ve ever seen. Blue like…the blue that you get when…
Wow. Thinking is exhausting. 

You’re just about to close your eyes when you notice that Cas’s eyes were getting…bigger. No, not his eyes, only the irises. The blue part was getting bigger and bigger, turning your whole world to sapphire blue. You smile at how beautiful it is, this sapphire blue. You realize you were underwater. You giggle. Then you close your eyes, and the blue’s gone.
Everything’s gone.

“Y/N!”

“Come on, come on!”

“No no no…” You hear Cas‘s, Dean’s and Sam’s voices through the blackness. Were they getting louder? They aren’t underwater anymore, you could tell that much. Good.

Wait, neither were you. You were… lying down. Your head was resting in something warm and strong. Were they…arms? You liked them, they made you feel safe. You nestled your head closer into them. Your head made contact with something hard, yet soft. It felt like cloth. It smelled like blood and sunlight. That was a weird combination. You open your eyes and see a blurry face crouching over you. 

“Y/N! You’re awake!” A voice says. They sound happy, you wonder what made them feel that way. As your vision clears, two other faces come into focus. Sam and Dean were crouching next to you, and Cas was holding you up in his arms. Oh. These were the arms you liked.

“Wha-what the hell happened?” You mumble. 

“You were attacked by the spirit. She seriously injured you, and you passed out. Thankfully, I healed you in time. You’ll be fine, but you may feel weak.” The angel’s voice is calm, but his eyes look…angry? Relieved? Concerned? All of the above? The memories start flooding back, the woman, her hand on your throat, flinging you into that mirror, the pain, almost dying. “Well damn.”

“Thought we lost you there.” Dean says, slapping you on the shoulder with a smile. You can’t help but smile back. 

“Not that easily.” You say, trying to sit up. Your body protests, and you collapse back into Cas, gasping. You were weak. Really weak. Great. 

“Be careful. Let me help.” Cas says, concern audible in his voice. He helps you stand, half carrying you with one arm around your waist and yours around his neck. Your heart sped up at his touch, and heat rushed to your cheeks. You sneak a glance at Cas, and blush further when you see his face is as red as yours must be. You didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he already was, but you were so tired, you couldn’t help it. Your head moved without your permission and rested itself on Cas’s shoulder. Your legs stumble, but the angel catches you. He stands still for a moment, as if he was deciding something. He seems to have made up his mind when he lifts up your legs with one arms and wraps the other around your torso. You give in and let him carry you bridal-style out of the house and by the Impala. You exhale and lean your head on his chest.

“Y/N, Sam will drive your car to our motel. Your keys are in your jacket, right?” Dean’s voice snaps you out of the half-consciousness you were in. You nod slowly. Your jacket was laying on the floor of the house, in shreds. That bitch ruined your favorite jacket. And a good shirt, too. The glass had ripped the fabric away from your back. Come to think of it, your bare back was exposed to three attractive men. But at the moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were so tired, so weak. On the bright side, you were in the arms of the most attractive man you had ever seen. 

That had to count for something.

“Thank you, Castiel.” You whisper as he lowers you into the seat of the Impala. 

“You are welcome, Y/N.” He says, and the corners of his mouth lift up into a smile. He has a beautiful one.

“Y/N?”

“Yes Cas?”

“Maybe you would consider, uh, hunting with us?” You allow a small smile to creep onto your face. “I’d like that. Beats hunting alone, I guess. I’d like too a lot.” 

Cas smiles and moves to shut the door. He climbs into shotgun, and Dean hops into the driver’s seat. 

“Did I miss anything?” Dean says with a grin. 

“Y/N is going to hunt with us now.” Cas says matter-of-factly.  Dean’s eyes widen, but he nods after a second. “Well, welcome to the team, Y/N. We’re glad to have you.” 

“Me too. Just don’t get me killed again, you asshat.” You say through a smirk

“No promises.” You can’t help but laugh. You’d only just met these people, but they made you feel safe already. You trusted them, and that was pretty crazy considering you didn’t trust much. You were glad you did, though. Maybe these guys would be your new family. Maybe they would be home. You hadn’t had one in so long…You smile wider and close your eyes. Sleep comes in the color blue.

claudiagee09  asked:

I lied. Here you go your trashesty. Len is a single dad and Barry Michaels teacher. Barry thinks Len is gorgeous and absolutely adores Michael but sometime Lisa drops Michael off so Barry just assumes Lisa is Michaels mum. When Len starts to flirt with Barry, Barry gets uncomfortable because he thinks Len is taken and Len just doesn't know what he's doing wrong. Lisa decides to intervene and get them together and Barry gets super confused because WHY THE HELL IS LENS WIFE TRYING TO SET US UP.

PLEASE

Barry Allen has morals. Values. A conscience. So he feels no remorse lusting after his student’s – Michael Snart – hot, single, and much older dad. At least he thinks he’s single. Michael never mentioned his mom and only ever gets picked up by his father. So, Barry can hope, at least.

He can’t imagine how weird that’d be for Michael. Adorable, intelligent, and kind Michael who always does his homework and compliments Barry on his superhero pens when he takes attendance. Barry knows that teachers shouldn’t have favorites. It’s unfair to the other kids. However, if someone had a gun pointed at his head, he would admit to Michael being his favorite. Wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

Barry’s favorite day of the week is Thursday. Why? Because Michael’s father is always late to pick him up. He doubts it’s Michael’s favorite day of the week, but Barry loves it. When everyone has gone home, he sits out front with Michael. They talk about superheroes, movies, and – Barry’s favorite subject – Leonard Snart.

According to Michael, Leonard is the coolest dad ever. He helps with his homework and cooks his favorite dinner whenever he’s late to pick Michael up. He even bought Michael his favorite pink T Shirt even though everyone tells him he can’t because “It’s for girls”.

Every Thursday, Barry swears he falls more and more in love with Leonard Snart.

The absolute best part is when Leonard finally pulls up an hour later in his sleek, black camero. He always apologizes to Michael first (“Dad, it’s okay. Mr. Allen stayed with me!”) before turning and thanking Barry. They chat for a while about Michael’s grades, how he’s doing in school, yadda yadda. It’s all pretty mundane but then Leonard gives him this smile. This smile, brighter than any star, that lights up his whole face. Sometimes Barry swears Leonard is flirting with him. Like he knows that smile is Barry’s favorite thing in the world. He winks and touches Barry’s shoulder and Barry uses Michael as an excuse to not jump him in the middle of the parking lot.

He thanks Barry for staying with his kid one last time before driving off.

Every week, it repeats.

Except the week after. When Barry is sitting on that same bench next to Michael. Instead of Leonard’s signature black camero, a different car pulls up. Barry’s too distracted to see what kind of car it is when a women steps out.

A beautiful women. With perfect hair and a gorgeous smile. As soon as Michael sees her, he runs up and hugs her.

Barry can’t get up. He blushes furiously and prays to every god there is that a huge black hole would appear and swallow him up.

He can’t believe he thought Len was single. That he didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend or whatever this woman was to him. Barry is never that lucky; he should’ve known.

He says goodbye to Michael and waves the women off while he makes his way down the sidewalk.

The next Thursday, Barry is pretty shocked. Michael’s dad is flirting with him. Possibly more than the last time. Barry just met his wife/girlfriend last week! Why would he do this???

Barry makes up some excuse to cut their conversation short and get the hell out of there.

It becomes a habit, eventually. Stay after school with Michael and avoid the hell out of Leonard Snart.

Len, obviously, doesn’t take it well. He was planning to ask Michael’s teacher out the following week. “Why was Mr. Allen acting weird all of a sudden?“

At some point, Len’s complaining and sulking get on Lisa’s last nerve. She offers to pick Michael up from school the following Thursday. She’ll just have to take it upon herself to get those two together.

For some odd reason, Barry looks extremely guilty when Lisa tries to strike up a conversation. Won’t even look her in the eyes.

“Listen, I know for a fact that Len is free this weekend. Why don’t you ask him out, or something?”

And Barry is really confused now because, why is Leonard’s significant other trying to get him a date? Do they have some kind of agreement? Is it an open relationship? Can Barry handle dating a guy with a girlfriend/wife and a kid? Have they explained the situation to Michael?

Barry politely declines before rushing down the street.

This time, it’s a Wednesday. Leonard still hasn’t picked Michael up and Barry catches him sitting sadly on a bench in front of the school.

They have a the conversation they have pretty much every week. Except this time, when Barry asks, “What’s going on at home?” It’s an entirely different answer.

“I don’t know. Dad is pretty sad. He told aunt Lisa about his crush on you and she laughed at him for a long time. But then, she said she’d pick me up so she could talk to you for him. They thought I was asleep but I heard everything and I think my dad is going to ask you on a date today. If you say yes, he’ll be really happy!”

Barry can’t stop staring at Michael’s smiling face. Full of innocence; totally unaware of the fact that he probably shouldn’t have said any of that. And wait, did he say “aunt” Lisa?…

Barry can’t wipe the huge smile off of his face, even when Leonard pulls up to the school.

(Obviously, Lisa paid Michael $20 to say all that stuff and she’s pretty proud that her plan worked out so flawlessly.)

Dean X Reader

Request: Can you do one where the reader is not a hunter, just a normal person and dean comes to do a job in her town. Then Cupid shows up and says that Dean and the reader are soulmates and they can’t live without each other so Dean brings her to the bunker so they can be together.

Request: Ciao! I have another request! I’m wondering if you could do John Winchester takes Sam and Dean in the impala to a muscle car rally or showing and Dean meets the reader and they bond and get all cute and fluffy and reader becomes his girlfriend? All because her favorite cars are GTOS and ‘67 Chevy Impalas? Thank you!! (So this one is set later in the series, so John’s not in it. I hope that’s okay!)

Request: Hello, I was wondering if I could request a dean x reader where the reader is a waitress at a restaurant the boys go to on a hunt, and her and Dean are kindred spirits. She loves cars a lot and owns a black Chevrolet Camero (my fave car lol) and after chatting she takes him outside to see her car, and then Dean asks her to come with them on their hunt because he can’t get enough of her. Thanks!! Love your writing !

Request: Hello! Can you do a dean x reader where Dean has a huge thing for her, but she is super hard to impress so he actually has to try? Super cute and fluffy please :))

Request: Hey, I already requested one, but i was wondering if I could request one where the reader is the female version of sam or dean? And they meet the real sam and dean? I love your account so much, you do amazing imagines!

Request: Hi! It’s Monday :) Can you write an imagine where the reader is having problems with her family, so Dean lets her stay at the bunker? Lots of fluff, if you can <3 Thank you love!

Warning: I know NOTHING about cars. So it may not be the most accurate thing I’ve ever written.

Keep reading

3

Stiles gets into the wrong Camero - inspired by this post, beta’d by blissful-misery

Lydia had texted Stiles with the reminder that she’d pick him up from work in five minutes after dropping Prada off at the Salon.

They’d started their monthly non-dates when their friends Allison and Scott had moved away for college. Lydia already had a job lined up in accounting for a company Jackson’s dad used to own, even when they’d broken up and he’d moved to London. Stiles, on the other hand, had opted for community college and a job at the local Starbucks alongside this kid called Isaac who he’s pretty sure used to be on the Lacrosse team with Scott back in High School.

Stiles was tucking his apron away into his jacket and balancing Lydia’s caramel latte - soy, as requested - in the other hand as he scanned the street for her car. The black Camero pulled up meters away from him and he jumped straight into the passengers side, kicking his bag under the seat and holding the latte out for her to take. He was busy flipping out his phone to text his dad when he heard a low cough from the drivers seat.

Okay, that was definitely not Lydia.

Stiles looked up only to be greeted by confused eyes, rough stubble and oh my god hot.

“I didn’t realize Starbucks had a drive-thru option.” The rugged, dreamy, and frankly unreal stranger spoke. And god, Stiles was both stunned that he wasn’t Lydia, and shocked that he really didn’t mind because seriously, this guy could model for Vogue.

“Well,” Stiles gulped, lifting the cup slightly. “Unless you ordered a caramel latte, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

The man’s eyebrow quirked, eyes flicking up and down Stiles’ figure in a flash. “Soy?”

“Uh… yeah,” he huffed out a shaky breath.

The strangers hand reached out to gently take the coffee from Stiles’ hand. He sipped it cautiously, keeping his eyes fixed on Stiles, and swallowed with a satisfied grin. Stiles gulped when the man made a small noise of appreciation.

“So, is there a reason for you being in my car?” Stiles snaps out of his daze quickly, remembering the coffee was supposed to be Lydia’s, and this was not actually Lydia’s car, and he was sitting in some guys car giving him free coffee.

“God, shit, sorry. My friend - Lydia - she has the same car as you. She was picking me up for work, I didn’t even look when I got in…” He grabbed for his bag and groped around behind him for the door handle. “You can keep the coffee. Random coincidence, right? Can’t fight that kind of fate.”

“Wait,” For a minute he thought the guy was going to give him his number, maybe tell Stiles to text him when he was lonely, meet him at a bar for a drink with no strings attached. Then his mind snapped back into reality. He was still in a strangers car. “Lydia? She has the same Camero as me?”

“You know her?” If Lydia had been keeping an incredibly hot, coffee-loving friend from Stiles all this time he was going to kill her.

“Not really. I mean, we only met because we have the same car.” Stiles raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking for the whole story. “She was in the WalMart parking lot. At first I thought she was trying to steal my car but then I noticed her crying. She said she’d just broken up with this guy, and then something about the universe hating her because she couldn’t unlock her new car. Then she realized it wasn’t her car.”

“Oh my God, she told me about that!” Stiles grinned, distinctly remembering that she’d left out the part about her crying. “She never said you were hot th- oh God, that’s embarrassing.” He clamped a hand over his mouth.

“First you invite yourself into my car, then you give me free coffee, then you compliment me. What’s next, your number?” The guy smirked, and Stiles realized he didn’t even know his name.

His eyes were wide and unblinking, and he probably looked a bit deranged with his mouth hanging open slightly. “I don’t even know your name…”

“It’s Derek.” He coughed awkwardly and looked away. “Sorry if that was a bit forward of me.”
Stiles was still stuck on the fact that he had a name now, so much so that he didn’t catch Derek’s train of thought.

“Huh?” Stiles shook his head slightly. “Wait, you actually want my number?”

A look of insecurity flashed across Derek’s face for a moment. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re way out of my league.” He scoffed. Derek snorted, then reached to grab the phone that was still in Stiles hand. He handed it back to him before he had chance to process what was happening.

A few quiet moments later there was a tap on the window followed by Lydia’s voice. “Stiles? What the hell?” Derek rolled down the window. “How is it that you two have never met before, and I still saw this coming?” She grinned, flipping her hair.

Stiles gaped at her, and Derek face palmed, a blush burning the tips of his ears.

“Wait, is that my latte?”