the angels have the phone box

Dean surprises everyone when he hands Cas the iPhone, brand new in its pristine white box. The angel is overwhelmed; he knew his flip phone was outdated but this…

“And wait,” Dean smiles, grabbing another package from the bag. “I haven’t even shown you the best part yet.”

They’re headphones, large ones in a big box and a little plastic container of smaller ear buds. They both have the label Shure on the side, a fact that has Sam’s hazel eyes wide and Castiel blushing under the lavishness of the gifts. “Dean, I don’t need–”

“I know,” Dean says. His smile, though hesitant and shy, is beautiful. “I, uh, I wanted to. ‘Sides, can’t have you listening to shitty tunes on shitty headphones, y'know?”

The phone has already been set up, a fact Castiel is eternally grateful for. The angel watches as Dean explains how the device works, tapping at the screen and plugging in the huge headphones and carefully placing them over Cas’s ears. Castiel flinches in response: “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Dean replies. His smile is brave and fake, and Cas hates it. He wishes he could relax. He wishes he could stop being anxious and sad. But ever since he expelled Lucifer and killed Amara, things have been—different. Loud noises make him jump, unexpected touches make him cringe and flinch, and he often loses himself in his own thoughts.

“Hey, here, I wanna show you something.” This time, Dean warns him before touching him, his calloused fingers smoothing over his arm as his other hand hovers over the phone. “I’m gonna press play, okay? You’ll like it, I promise.”

With the knowledge that the song will be a surprise, Castiel tenses up, his shoulders almost touching his ears. He nods and bites his lip, almost to the point of blood.

Dean’s green eyes become dull and worried in response, and the hunter gives a little nod of his own. He presses play. Cas flinches pre-emptively.

And then it’s just… alright. Good, even.

In the place of music, the sound of rain filters through his headphones. It’s a little bit of a shock at first, he has to turn the volume down because the bouts of thunder make him jump, but after a while, it becomes—relaxing. The sound is repetitive, soft, the thunder is low and grumbly, and it soothes Cas until he’s comfortable enough to slump in his seat. Dean, who at some point has sat down beside him, easily takes Castiel’s weight against his shoulder. When he wraps an arm around the angel, Cas doesn’t even flinch.

Soon after, the rain changes to the hum of a washing machine, but instead of another ten minutes of blissful white noise, the sound is soon interrupted by something sharper. It’s still a low sound, though, and with how relaxed Castiel is, the angel doesn’t startle.

It’s Dean.

So, uh, hey Cas, it’s me. Ah… Dean.

A smile begins to creep across Cas’s lips.

Shit. Fuck, of course it’s me—um, yep. So, it’s Dean. And I just. I just wanted to talk, I guess. I know it’s been kinda, uh, tough since you got back, and I know we don’t talk about it, but I’m… I’m worried, Cas. And I know I’m a coward. And I know I’m probably bein’ selfish right now, but it’s killin’ me to watch you waste away to nothing, man. I, ah, I love you too much for that. Like, I love you a lot, a-and—fuck. I’m not… doin’ this right.

Look, what I, I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that… I don’t care why you did it. I don’t. I care about you, Cas. And if you don’t love me back, that’s cool, and if you do, well… A shaky breath. Well, then, we move at your pace. But you’re all I care about. You gotta believe that.

Kay, um, well, I love you.

Okay.

Uh, bye.

Cas doesn’t know he’s crying until Dean is wiping at his cheeks, freckled skin drowning in ruby red warmth as the hunter coos and hushes him. Castiel grasps Dean’s wrists tightly and carefully leans in, his breath shaky and laboured and nervous before he presses the sweetest of chaste kisses upon the other’s lips. Immediately after, Cas buries his face in Dean’s neck and hugs his hunter tightly. “Thank you,” he breathes.

Dean’s small, relieved smile presses against the top of Castiel’s head. “Yeah, god, anytime, Cas,” he breathes. “L-love you.”

It takes a handful of seconds before Cas can gather up the air to answer—before he’s absolutely certain this is real. Fingers twisting in the material of Dean’s shirt, the angel nods, throat clicking with his swallow. His lips part.

“Love you.”

The Littlest Winchester - Past Self

Character: Dean Winchester

Warning: None

Word Count: 869

Request:  Can I request a ‘Littlest Winchester’ imagine, where Dean shows her some baby photos and is telling her what she was like as a baby. And she’s doing the typical, 'no i didn’t’. Please and thank you! Xx

Story:

   In the beginning, Dean kept pictures of his daughter in the same little box he uses to store the few sentimental possessions he has. There were only a few sonograms and snapshots of her mother, but after her birth the need arose for more space. He labeled a shoebox that he keeps in the bottom drawer of his dresser, and it’s this box that the four-year-old finds while “helping” her father put away his laundry.

   “What’s in the box?” she asks.

   “Open it and see.”

   The little girl sets the box on the floor and removes the lid. “It’s pictures,” she announces.

Keep reading

Daddy’s promise 0.1

Request from anon: 083 would be awesome

Category: Pregnancy
083: “I can’t be pregnant… or….OH, MY GOD! ”

Pairing: Barry Allen x reader 
Warnings: Girltalk where the word “sex” is mentioned a couple times (idk if that’s a legit warning tho), mild swearing (I think there’s like… three curewords or something), and a bit bad writing in the beginning.
Words: 3516 

A/N: Just thought I’d give you the reason why I didn’t post Cinderella part 2: it’s pretty much because it’s been a while since I wrote last time, and I want the second part to be perfect, AND I didn’t have so many ideas – just thought you guys deserved an update quicker…

ϟϟϟϟϟ

When it came to sneaking in after a long night, Y/N Y/L/N wasn’t the best. Was the girl inexperienced? Well, maybe, but she blamed it more on her dominant gene of clumsiness. As expected, the door wasn’t on her side when she tried her best to get into her and Mary’s apartment inaudibly.

Squeak! It was moments like these, Y/N regretted not getting their door fixed. Though she excused her laziness with the argument that it was a great (cheap) alternative for an alarm in case of thieves (as if anyone would break the law for her stuff, hah!), it wasn’t funny when you tried your best to sneak inside after a long night out.

“Good morning,” Mary, Y/N’s best friend, and roommate smirked at her, two cups of coffees in her hands. 
“We really need to oil those hinges,” Y/N tried her best changing the topic, as she took the mug her friend offered her. 
“Nice try, go shower and get dressed. You’ve got a lot to tell me, and I don’t want you to be hung over while you’re at it,” at that moment, Mary was so determined, Y/N didn’t dare nor care to tell her she wasn’t that hung over.


“You had sex with Barry?! I can’t believe it! I mean, you guys are like… the definition of cinnamon buns!" Mary exclaimed in shock.
"Ugh, stop it, Mary. Now that I’ve told you everything about last night-”
“He asked you to take som drinks with him and Caitlin, then you just ended up having sex? Who are you?" 
”-can you just be the bestest best friend in the world and don’t remind me about it for the rest of my life?“ Y/N continued as if her friend hadn’t just interrupted her, and hid her face in her hands.

"Wait, what? Why? Was he so bad?”  
“NO! Jesus, Mary, no, he- he was good… But the sex is not the point!” Y/N shook her head. 
“Well then, what’s the problem?”
“We’re friends, and… and… and did you not just hear what’s happened?! We had intercourse-”
“Don’t say intercourse, Y/N/N, it’s old and it’s weird,” Mary interrupted.
“Well, we did it-”
“You’re not five, Y/N, I believe the word you’re looking for is-”
“Oh my God, Mary, can we just not talk about this?! Please?” Y/n couldn’t do this conversation anymore, and with a short “OK” from her noisy friend, Y/N left their living room. 


It had been days since her and Mary’s conversation about Y/N’s wild night with Barry. Luckily for her, Barry was needed in Star City for a week, so the awkward meet was yet to come. Of course, Y/N knew that it had to happen sooner or later, though later had worked out just fine for the past days, hence why she was still rooting for that method – despite Mary’s constant nagging.

The morning came quicker than usual as Y/N woke up by the sudden urge to throw up. This confused her, considering Y/N was never sick – well, excluding the days she actually happened to be, of course. So when she found herself hanging over the toilet, she couldn’t help being both frustrated as well as disgusted. 

“Y/N, are you ok?” Mary’s voice came from the other side of the locked bathroom door. Y/N never locked the bathroom door – she feared she would get shut in and stuck during a fire – which happened more often than you would think (let’s just say that Mary wasn’t the best at cooking, or with fires).
“Uhm… yeah, just-” She was interrupted by a second and hopefully last round of vomit.
“Y/N?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a sec, Mary!” Y/N was panicking. Y/N was throwing up. Y/N never threw up.
“Y/N Y/L/N, I demand you to open this door before I get creepy Jack  down the hall to kick this door open for me!” And that’s how Y/N got herself in lockdown.


It was never fun to be at home, sick. Especially when one wasn’t sick, but one’s crazy overprotective roommate and best friend forced one to stay home because one acted a bit off and looked a bit pale in the morning. Y/N was currently in this situation. She didn’t like it. At the moment she was walking around their apartment, feeling 100% good to go to work. “You look terrible today as well, Y/N, you’re not going anywhere. I’m telling Mrs. Norman, so if I get a phone call that your toe has even touched the air of the other side of that door, you’ll be dead,” Mary had told her. 

This was it, the last drop, she was done, finished, finito with staying home any longer. Y/N had just finished her third film of the day, and just laying there was getting her a migraine. ‘OK, I’m going out! I’m a grown woman! A big girl, an independent girl! I can do whatever I want to! My best friend can’t make me stay at home!’ Y/N went for her purse and was ready to walk out the door, but as if Mary could read minds, Y/N’s phone rung.
“Hello?” Y/N sounded as chirpy as she could, feeling nervous as hell.
“Hey, Y/N! Just wanted to make sure you haven’t left!” Mary knew her better than anyone, and it was almost scaring Y/N a bit. Almost. 


Three knocks on the door followed by the sound of a pair of keys, and then the door opened. The familiar squeak made its way to Y/N’s ears as she laid on her bed in misery.
“Hey, Y/N, are you alright?” It was Barry. 'Barry? Is he back home?’ Y/N tried not to let her panic take overhand. Anger suddenly washed over her, if this was Mary’s work, a certain brunette would be in deep trouble when she came back from work…

“Hey, I uh… I brought flowers,” Barry’s voice could be heard from the living room, and Y/N’s mind was twisting and turning: Should she go on and play sick? It would certainly delay the awkward conversation that was bound to happen… Deciding it was her best option at the time, Y/N made out a weak cough, and answered her friend:
“In here, Barry!” as sickly she could manage.

“Hi, how’re you feeling?” Barry stepped inside carefully, as if the floor would cause her more pain. 
“I’m ok, my head hurts a bit, and I’m a bit nauseous,” Y/N thought that her breasts being tender were a fact she didn’t have to share.
“Uhm…” looking as Barry’s ears had just turned tomato red, Y/N scolded herself for saying her thoughts out loud.

“Mary told you to come here?” Y/N tried her best changing the subject quickly as well as keeping her act. 
“Uhm, no, heard it from Caitlin actually. She was.. uh… on the phone with Mary I think. She, uhm, she’s a loud talker,”
“Caitlin or Mary?”
“Both,” the two laughed, Y/N throwing in a couple of coughs. When the laughing calmed down, and the tension started to grow, it was as if her guardian angel saved her, and Barry’s phone rung.
“Uhm, sorry, I have to go, Captain Singh needs me at the office…”
“Yeah, of course, you just go and save the city by stirring in chemicals,” her good-bye made him laugh as he made his way out the door in a hurry. 


“Y/N?” Mary asked. They were currently sitting on the couch, eating pizza and watching How I Met Your Mother. 
“Yeah?”
“Pee on this for me, will you? I think you’re pregnant,” the brunette said, throwing a box at Y/N – who were almost choking on her food.
“Excuse me?!" 
"Just do it, it won’t hurt, and you’ve been feeling bad for days. Now be quick and get it done already before I eat this up," 

"This is stupid,” Y/N said. It turned out that Mary had seen the episode airing on TV “a thousand times”, so they were now hovering over the white stick somewhat curious and excited.
“Because I can’t be pregnant… OH, MY GOD!” Y/N couldn’t believe it. It said positively.
"Is it Barry’s?” Mary broke the silence
“What?!”
“Well, you’re obviously not Mother Teresa, and you’re not the one to sleep around; I mean, I’m just tying up the loose ends…”
“Oh my God, Mary, can we just not talk about this?! Please?” Y/N was still trying to cope with the fact that a living creature was growing inside her vagina.
“Yeah, yeah of course…” And the night continued, Mary planning out how she would be the cool aunt of the unborn baby, and Y/N denying the scary fact that she would become a mother in roughly nine months.


“You need to tell him, Y/N,” Mary said, looking at her best friend while trying her best not to tick off the ice cream-eating bipolar monster.
'I thought we agreed not to talk about this,’  Was what Y/N wanted and meant to say, though because of the piece of heaven that was melting inside her mouth, it rather came out sounding more like: “Eh ohuph uh a-edh umph uh ahk a-ou es!” Mary, on the other hand, managed to translate the faded message by the clear look in Y/N’s eyes.
“That was three weeks ago," 
"Ugh!!” And the monster sunk her head in the pillows surrounding her, letting out a loud cry of frustration.


“What about Coby?” Y/N asked her friend. 
“Because Cody is too common for you?” Mary answered, still skimming through her magazine in the other end of the sofa. 
“I don’t know, he just feels like a Coby,” Y/N answered, looking down at er stomach – if she really just concentrated hard enough, she could see the little bump forming.
“Yeah, you’ve just begun the first trimester, so sorry hun, but the kiddo doesn’t even have a face, let alone a pair of good functionating lungs," 
"You’re right, but what about Bia? Or Dory? What do you think about those?” Y/N asked, and at this, Mary set her Vouge away and looked her friend straight in the eyes.

“I think that if you want to name your child after a Pixar/Disney-cartoon fish, you better talk to the daddy…”
“Yeah, Dory was a bit too creative maybe… How about Elza? Elza is cool, or Logan? He was always my favorite. Though Jess was also-” Y/N’s attempt on ignoring her friend’s change of topic failed hard when Mary interrupted her.
“Y/N this is getting serious. You haven’t even hung out with Barry much for the past weeks. Remember when you two couldn’t stay away from each other for more than six hours? I remember that very well. I also remember him being your number one topic to talk about 24/7," 

She was right. Mary was right and Y/N knew it, though she couldn’t help it! All she could think of when picturing their first real talk since the one four weeks ago was BABYBABYBABY. Imagine how stressed he would be? He made one mistake, and now he was forced into a huge commitment. In addition to that, this was not what Y/N wanted herself. She wanted to get kids with the man in her life. And currently, that was her dad, considering her status on Facebook was still remaining 'single’. 

"But how Mary? How do I confront him with this? He’s going to be a dad! And when I tell him, he will have two options: A, to agree to all terms and conditions, to become a dad and parent with me, or he can B, politely decline and leave my life forever! Mary, I can’t bear a life without him!” She hadn’t even realized the tears running down her cheeks before now. 
“He won’t leave you, do you hear me? He will never ever leave you,” Mary tried her best reassuring her friend, patting Y/Non the head while whispering soft comforting words.


“You know, having a pregnant roommate is way more expensive than you would think,” Mary came in the door with four bags full of food.
“Yeah, yeah, where’s the pickles?” Y/N asked frantically, to which Mary gave her one of the bags.
“I mean, not only does it drench your wallet, but also your mentality. Here you go by the way, bought eleven jars, just for you,” Y/N went for it, and opened the first one in sight. But just as she was about to open the lid and down all of the juice like she had done for the now empty seven jars in their fridge, she stopped.
“Yuck, how disgusting is this? Do we have any chocolate?" 
“Like I said, drenching my wallet and mentality…” Mary said looking up to the roof, shaking her head.


Y/N was currently in her thirteenth week, and her clothing style had changed drastically for a couple of weeks. 'They are meant for comfort and coverage,’ she had told Mary when her friend had commented that she couldn’t leave the apartment in 'the biggest sweatshirt in the building’ and her pajama pants. So you could imagine Barry’s shock when he not only saw his once best friend and crush clothed in uncharacteristically clothing but also for the first time in months. How Y/N had managed to avoid him for that long?

Y/N laid in her bed, computer on her lap, popcorn within her hand’s reach, and sipping on a coke. Her mind was parallelled set on the kittens in the video she was watching, and how cool it would be when her stomach finally would grow to a proper, usable size AKA when she could drop the coffee table in the living room, and do a Phoebe Buffay. 

Interrupting her thoughts, her phone started ringing, leaving her annoyed as she had to pause her YouTube-watching.
"Hello?” She said unaware of whom it wa son the other side of the line. 
“Hey Y/N/N, just wondering where you-” It was
Barry. Her Barry. What was she to do?!
“Sorry, wrong number,” Y/N said in the deepest voice she could muster, as she quickly hung up on the poor, oblivion guy.

Though that wasn’t it, Y/N really was creative with her avoiding methods. She needed to go to the store? She asked Mary. Mary said no? She asked Mrs. Norman. Mary figured that out, got mad at her, and told Mrs. Norman not to worry about it? Y/N asked creepy Jack down the hall, whom she knew Mary wouldn’t dare to talk to. But how about her job? In addition to having a feminist extremist as a boss, Y/N was a writer for a magazine. So simply explaining her situation, adding a couple of white lies, and finishing with a strong apology with a touch of ‘I promise to work twice as hard at home,’ Y/N was off the hook. 

But just as any hormonal pregnant woman, Y/N got enough of her hiding – it should be him hiding, not her! To this Mary had told her that Barry didn’t have the knowledge to why he had to hide (which apparently, Mary didn’t have either) and she was being ‘irrational and not herself,’ which Y/N obviously ignored. Hence why she left their home to get the right chocolate milk, because creepy Jack simply didn’t do the job properly. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” Barry couldn’t be too careful when it came to assuming  – let’s just say this wasn’t the first time he had “seen”  Y/N in public. Though at the mention of her name, Y/N turned to see who had said her name. Her eyes locked into his for mere seconds before Y/N turned away in hope her invisibility powers would quickly appear and hide her. Such a pity Y/N wasn’t a meta…

“It is you!” Barry jogged up to her. Great, what was she to do now? 
“Hi…!”  Y/N answered back, holding her basket with milk in a tight grip.
“How’ve you been? I haven’t heard anything from you for so long…” Barry said, just standing there in front of the girl he loved. 
“Uhm, a bit ill actually… Yeah, that’s why I haven’t had the time to hang out,” quite happy about her explanation, Y/N stood there ready to go. 

“For three months?” Barry asked, not completely convinced.
“Yeah,” Y/n faked a cough, “really bad flu," 
"I see, well, do you want to grab dinner Friday?”
“Friday? As in now Friday? in three days?” Barry nodded, and Y/N shut her eyes as if she had to think of her plans for the rest of the week.  'Should I say yes? It would be quite suspicious if I told him no… But he will know! On the other hand, Big Belly Burger does sound tempting…’
“Big Belly Burger?” Y/N asked with a smile on her face, which Barry gladly returned.
“Yeah! Good, I’ll pick you up at six,” Barry winked at her, then left. 'What have I gotten myself into?’


“This is good, Y/N! Now you can finally tell him!” Mary said, proud of the maturity her friend was showing.
“Telling him? Are you kidding, I’m not gonna tell him anything! We’re just grabbing some burgers…” Y/N defended herself. Wouldn’t that be scandalous, her telling him? He would flee the country to just get away from her.
“You’re not serious now, are you?” When Y/N didn’t answer her, Mary took a deep sigh.
“You are aware of that you’re pushing him away from you, right? Because that’s why you don’t want to tell him because you don’t want to lose him? So I’d use some more time to think before you just go on your date-”
“It’s not a date!”
“- later today, and keep your secret safe,” Mary finished and left the room for Y/N to remake her decision.


It had taken her blood, sweat, and tears – literally, but Mary finally made Y/N agree to tell Barry about her pregnancy. But after a brutal paper cut, an intense discussion, and while following the DVD-aerobic-instructor, Mary argued her way to victory, Y/N left their apartment in defeat.

Walking next to Barry, Y/N started to regret her choice of clothes – no scratch that, Mary’s choice of clothes. Because Y/N was supposed to tell Barry she was pregnant anyway, and 'It’s a date for fuck’s sake, and you like him, you might as well dress proper!’ So there she was. Next to the guy she loved, feeling more insecure about her body as ever, in hope Barry hadn’t noticed. And even though he didn’t show it, Barry did notice. But the thought of her being pregnant? That hadn’t nor ever would’ve crossed his mind. 

“God, I’m hungry… Haven’t eaten since lunch, how 'bout you?” Barry asked, not really sure of what to say. The conversation usually came naturally between the two of them.
Starving,” Y/N said, but kept out the fact that she ate an hour ago. “I could seriously eat a horse, or maybe even the whole team, when I think of it,” she finished, and made Barry laugh. 
“A whole team of horses?” He asked with a smile, to which Y/N chortled at.
“Yes!" 
"I don’t believe you…” Barry said playfully, loving the feeling of the normality between him and the Y/H/C girl. 
“Bartholomew Henry Allen, you’ve officially been challenged to a duel,” Y/N said in the stiffest voice she could muster. 
“A burger-eating contest?”
“Well, if you want it to sound dull, so yeah…”

“Oh Holy Moses…” Y/N sighed and rubbed her stomach. In front of her was a grinning Barry Allen, and five un-eaten 500g-Double cheese-bacon-burger with sweet potato fries.
“Told you you’d lose, though I’m impressed, not many can keep up with a speedster,”
“Trust me, it’s not that difficult when you’re eating for two!” Y/N said with a laugh, but it quickly stopped when she saw the look on his face. It was a good mixture of shock… shock… and more… shock.

“Uhm… Uh… yeah, I’m uh… I’m pregnant… Sur-surprise?” Y/N had never been this nervous ever. 
“You’re pregnant?” Barry couldn’t believe it. Who was the father? For how many months? Why hadn’t she told him before? Was this the reason she hadn’t talked to him for so long? However, he decided to keep those questions for himself, afraid of the answers – especially the first one, hadn’t he meant anything for her? 
“Uhm, yeah… Due date’s 4th of April,”

“Who knows?” He asked again, “… is the father aware?” He finished.
“Mary and you are the only ones. Mom and dad are kind of still in the dark…” Y/N felt ashamed saying it out loud. 
“Ok, well, how are you feeling about it?” He asked, his concern warming Y/N’s heart. She was so sure this would have ended completely different – hell she had cut off all contact for three months, and she’d continued if it hadn’t been for their random encounter at the supermarket. 
“It was hard to cope with in the beginning, though I’ve grown fond of the little creature," 
"I just want you to know that I’m not leaving your side anytime from this moment, Y/N. You’re stuck with me, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

ϟϟϟϟϟ

Dressing rooms (3)

Warnings: none

Summary: In which the story is only told through conversations that take place in dressing rooms 

A/N: This is weird and kinda filler-y so you’re welcome (I promise it moves the plot along) also I cheated and called the bathroom a dressing room oops

1, 2, 3

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you possibly do a small list of 'would include/be like...' for moving in or renovating your apartment with fiancée Cal or Mike pretty please for blurb night? Much thanks lovely! xox

Moving in with fiancée Calum:

  • Him insisting he carries you over the threshold 
  • “It’s tradition.” “But Cal we aren’t even married yet-” “Tradition Y/N!”
  • Agreeing to paint your place yourselves rather than hire someone because it makes it more homely
  • Ending up with more paint on each other than the walls and agreeing to call the decorators tomorrow
  • “Wanna christen the new house?”
  • “Keep it in your pants Hood.”
  • Having his phone playing the ‘moving in’ playlist he’d made for you, which was a combination of both of your favourite songs as well as some classics
  • “Okay but for real Angel, we need to have sex in every room.” 
  • Forgetting what was in each box and ending up with clothes in the kitchen and plates in the bathroom.
  • Organising his stuff beside yours with a smug grin on his face because this is where you guys are gonna spend your lives
  • Singing Mr Brightside really loud and him just looking at you fondly because he’s marrying you
  • “This is where we’ll put the wedding photos.”
  • Arguing about which room is for the kids and which room is going to be his studio
  • Sitting on the floor in the middle off the living room as you eat dinner just grinning at each other
  • “I suppose it is tradition to christen the house…Which room do you wanna start with?” “You’re the love of my life.” “Funny, I had no idea.”
  • “Also, everybody knows you start in the kitchen.”

Domestic/SingleDad!5sos Blurb Night

waffle-has-moved-to-a-new-tumb  asked:

Prompt- hunk and lance jamming out to old music as they cook dinner together (could be platonic or romantic- whatever you interpret it as tbh)

Oh boy I’ve been meaning to write me some more Hance lately B) @waffle-walks it’s been a long time coming, but I finally finished this Hancey goodness. Also, @iris-nebula, have some cumbia dancing Lance. ;)


It had been another long shift at the station, but for once Lance didn’t feel tired to the bone as he stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few essentials. See, tonight he was hanging with Hunk, and yeah, sure, maybe they’d been doing that a lot lately, but he was excited. Especially because Hunk was going to be busy with another scene for his film soon; they wouldn’t be able to hang out as much when he started working again, so Lance was determined to make the most of this while it lasted.

So, shopping done, Lance hurried back to his apartment, hoping to beat Hunk there for once. Hunk, unlike Lance, who was notoriously late for everything, was always exactly on time. Not a breath early and not a second late. Lance wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, but he suspected it had something to do with working on a schedule most of the time. Lance was hoping to get back home on time at the very least (though he was honestly aiming to get there a little early) but foot traffic was a bitch and, as usual, Lance was late.

Lance tore down the hall to his apartment door, still half hoping that he’d beaten Hunk when he didn’t seem him right away. But nope- there he was, patting his thighs and hovering a few feet away from the door. “Hunk! Sorry I’m late!”

Hunk’s face brightened as soon as he saw Lance. “Oh good- I was worried you’d gotten stuck on call and couldn’t text again.”

Lance grimaced. It had been one time, okay? And he hadn’t even had any say in whether or not he would respond to that call. Huge crashes like that were fucking nasty and required the whole department to get their shit together and work seamlessly with everyone on scene. He… didn’t really want to think about that night right now, actually.

“Sorry, sorry.” Hunk’s clenched hands found their way up to his chest as he hunched into his anxiety. “I know that was a sucky shift it’s just- I worry, okay?”

“I get it dude,” Lance said with a dismissive wave and an easy smile, moving to unlock his door. The key fought him every step of the way, but after a minute he got his door open and stepped into his apartment. He didn’t even have to tell Hunk to come in; they’d done this often enough that the invitation would be nothing more than a formality. “What are you feeling tonight?”

Hunk hummed thoughtfully, clearly running over options in his head before he grinned broadly and declared, “You keep saying you make the best macaroni and I want to try it.”

Oh shit. Lance was pretty sure that the straight from the box Kraft mac ‘n cheese wasn’t what Hunk had in mind, but that’s what Lance had been talking about. Laughing nervously, Lance grabbed a pot from his cupboard, filled it with water, and put it on the stove to heat. Very intentionally avoiding Hunk’s eager gaze, Lance grabbed a box of the cheesy goodness and set it on the counter.

“Uh Lance?”

Smiling sheepishly, Lance turned to look at Hunk. “See, when I said cook I really just meant follow the directions on the box-”

Hunk cut him off before he could start rambling. “Hey a guy’s gotta appreciate the classics, right? I mean, I’ll definitely have to change the butter-to-pasta ratio because Kraft fucked that right up and maybe try out some spices on it and see what we can get- but I’m all for this. Really.” His smile lit up the room, and Lance felt a little weak in the knees.

Hunk was an angel. Honestly, what had Lance ever done to deserve him? Smiling with more confidence now, Lance grabbed his phone and set some music to play. He wasn’t really paying all that much attention to the music, completely captivated by the way Hunk had taken to pillaging his cabinets in search of good spices and herbs (he wouldn’t have much to work with- Lance didn’t usually cook on his days off). His body seemed to sway to the rhythm without any conscious thought, and god damn Lance was gay for this man. Hunk smiled openly as Lance started shuffling with him, and they began dancing around the kitchen with childish delight.

Time fell away from them as they struck ridiculous poses and made fun of the old music. (Though they would both defend the dulcet tones of Billy Idol until their last breath, regardless of what they were saying right now.) Hunk fell over laughing when Lance started an overly dramatic interpretive dance to Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust, and tentatively joined in when Lance swung his hips to Bidi Bidi Bom Bom, dancing a cumbia worthy of Selena herself.

They laughed when Hunk remembered the mac ‘n cheese just a little too late and scrambled to get it off of the stove before the buttery pasta got too badly burnt, quickly taking it to the sink for salvation.

Lance peeked over Hunk’s shoulder to get a look at the burned mess and grinned crookedly. “It’s edible.”

Hunk scoffed, scooped the pasta out of the pot, and filled it back up with water to soak. “It’s burnt.”

Lance grabbed a spoonful of post-cheesy goodness and shoved it into his mouth. “‘S never stopped me before.”

Hunk fake gagged and tossed the pasta into the trash when Lance for real gagged. “Let’s just order a pizza.”

Lance, still trying to brush the remaining flavor off of his tongue, agreed. “That… sounds like a good idea.”

So they ordered a pizza, turned on a 10 Things I Hate About You and settled in for the night.

Dean doesn’t understand.  How could he?  He’s up against an impossible force, something not of this world, and he’s still unconsciously trying to box him into at least somewhat human norms because after eight years you’d think he might have started to - not conform, but assimilate; but no.  No matter how hard he tries to understand Castiel’s drives, his motivations, he always finds himself coming up against a wall.

He’s pouring more and more of himself out every time Cas comes back, trying to make him see, to understand - he needs him here; hell, he’s said as much to Cas’s face, over the phone, time and again, and maybe there’s still too much angel in him to understand the nuances of human interaction because nothing. Seems.  To stick.

Okay, so maybe that’s Dean’s frustration talking, but there’s no lack of justification here.

He’s been stuck on staring at his pillow for the past ten - fifteen? minutes, going over and over the last conversation he and Cas had had in this room.  The mixtape, team free will, the slight glaze to Cas’s eyes that he’s only just noticing in retrospect, betraying the real reason he’d taken it upon himself to bless the Winchesters with his presence.  

He feels like destroying something.

He wants to believe that Cas is sincere; that he considers Sam and Dean as much family as they do him.  That when Dean tells him that they work better together, that he shouldn’t just ‘go dark’, he’s listening.  But when every time he disappears into the ether once more, Dean can’t help but feel like his words are falling on deaf ears, that he’s preaching to a crowd of one: himself.  That putting so much effort into keeping Cas in their lives is becoming more and more of a moot point.

‘I love you.  I love all of you.’

Dean scoffs lightly to himself.  Yeah.  Okay.  How about proving it sometime, buddy?

Not fair, he instantly reprimands himself.  By no means fair.

But still.

“Hey bud.  Got something for you.”

“A… cassette tape?”

“Sure.  You take some long rides in that truck, figured you could use some entertainment.”

Cas stared down at Dean’s hand, at the offering clutched within it, for a beat too long.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean shook his proffered hand gently in front of Cas’s face.  “You gonna leave me hanging here, or..?”

“I have… a radio…” Cas tried hesitantly, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to process what was going on.  Dean sighed, rubbing his free hand to the back of his neck as the moment got steadily more awkward with each passing moment Cas left the tape hanging in the air.

“Just… take the damn tape.  It’s,” he hesitated.  “A gift.”

Finally, Cas reached out to take it, his fingers brushing over Dean’s as he went.  He still looked baffled, staring down at the tape, then back up at Dean.  The ‘thank you’ he murmured was as sincere as Cas got.

“Yeah, well.”  Dean stared dumbly at Cas for a second, trying to figure out what to do next.  “Uh.  Good talk.”  

Dean manages a small smile at the memory.  It had been a flash of liquid courage, of knowing that Cas would likely be unaware of the.. implications that go along with giving someone a mix tape. Not enough to follow through on those implications, but.. one step at a time.  Especially when Cas is being so cagey; especially when Dean can’t trust himself to believe that Cas is truly on their side right now.

Our lives, man, Dean thinks, sighing.  They just go around and around and around.  

Deep down, he knows he’s just angry; he knows that he trusts Cas with his life, that Cas is just trying to find his win.  It’s not his fault Kelly’s completely and utterly lost it.  Poor guy can never catch a break, but Dean wishes it didn’t mean lying and running away from his family.  … He’ll forgive him.  Eventually.  Once they’ve got him out of whatever crap he’s gotten himself into this time, and once he’s given him another lecture that Cas will maybe listen to, maybe take into account.  Maybe.  But he has to try.

After all, it’s what you do for the people you love.

Doctor Who: Sally Sparrow [INFP]

Introverted Feeling (Fi): Sally seeks to give everything she encounters personal significance; she likes old buildings (and to photograph them) because they remind her of the lives lived out there. She’s very private in her emotions, but also very kind to others. She has an independent streak that turns up in her tendency to act on her feelings, and do what she believes is right. Sally likes being “hit on” by the cop, but wants to date him on her terms.

Extroverted Intuition (Ne): She starts piecing together things by connecting random elements – her understanding of the old house, the fact that all the DVDs have herself in common, the Doctor’s “one-way” conversation with her, and that it is she who delivers the transcript to him. She discerns the purpose for the TARDIS key and what it belongs to, and also knows that she led the angels to the “phone box.” She’s clever with thinking up different possibilities, and able to wrap her mind around time travel and shifts in the space time continuum.

Introverted Sensing (Si): Her enjoyment of old houses and things cause her to visit the angels’ house in the first place. She holds onto some things out of sentiment, but also has a practical, detail-centric side that comes into play when she questions everything she encounters. Sally is detail-oriented enough to want to know how the information got to the Doctor in the first place!

Extroverted Thinking (Te): In a high pressure situation, Sally takes charge. She gives orders, she methodically tries out all the reasonable, logical solutions to their problem (the different doors, the basement, etc), and relies on cold, hard facts when forming conclusions. She observes her factual environment and often comments on it (“it’s the same rain,” “the angel moved”).

Bon Voyage

gif is not mine.

Title: Bon Voyage

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Word Count: 575

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: This was another short one I had, but I hope you all enjoy it!  I figured I would just put this one out as well because I love Gabriel so much omg.  Feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

You knew you had to tell your boyfriend Gabriel sooner or later, but you figured that he might already know.  You were leaving America to work in Europe as a tour guide.  It was an opportunity you couldn’t turn down, and to be honest, you were excited.  This was something you had always wanted to do, something you dreamed of.  You wanted to see the world, and this was one way to do it.  You didn’t tell him earlier because you were worried about his reaction to the news.

You packed some more clothes into a box, listening to music as you packed.  You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in a few days, but that was normal.  He was an angel after all; he had his own heavenly issues to worry about.  You would call him tomorrow if he didn’t show up today..  You checked your phone, before you continued your packing.

You heard the noise of fluttering wings, turning around, “Gabriel,” you beamed.  You rushed over to him, giving him a quick kiss.  “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t stop by to see my favorite, [Y/N],” Gabriel teased.  He looked up, seeing all the boxes around the room.  “What’s going on cupcake?”

“I was hoping you would come see me tonight, I have something to tell you,” you looked down nervously.

Gabriel put a finger under your chin, lifting your head.  He gave you that melting grin he always had, “you know you can tell me anything [Y/N].  I love you, and that won’t change.”

“Well I was offered this job in Europe to be a tour guide, and as you know, that’s something I’ve always wanted to do.  I knew you would want me to take it, so I did.  I hope you’re not angry with me,” you pouted, suddenly feeling guilty.

Your boyfriend gave you a reassuring kiss before speaking, “I could never be angry with you, especially when you’re this happy about it.  It gives me the chance to go to Europe.  I’ve never had a chance to go, until now.”  Gabriel snapped, opening his hand, a cupcake with a single, lit candle in it, appearing.  “This calls for a celebration,” he smirked, holding the candle up to you.  “Make a wish!”

You mimicked his smirk, blowing out the candle.  “Aren’t you going to ask me what I wished for” you asked as he innocently took a bite out of the cupcake.

Gabriel snorted out a laugh, “I already know what you wished for, I’m an angel sweet cheeks.”  He held the rest of the cupcake out to you, “I couldn’t help myself, it looked too good not to take a bite.”

You chuckled, pushing his hand back towards him, “it’s okay, you can have the rest, I had dinner not too long ago.”  You smiled, “so does that mean you’re going to fulfill my wish?”

“You could have wished for anything, but you wished for something I was going to do anyway.  You don’t have to wish for me to come with you to Europe.  You know I would go anywhere with you,” Gabriel said licking the icing off of his fingers.

“I love you so much Gabe,” you said softly.

“I love you too, baby cakes,” Gabriel grinned, cupping your face as he leaned in for a kiss.  You didn’t know about the cupcake, but this was a pretty sweet kiss.  And an even sweeter new beginning.


Tag List: @the-real-tony-stank  @heaven-bound-angel  @cyrilconnelly  @feelmyroarrrr  @deathtonormalcy56

Me: *hands Neil my DVD of Neverwhere for signing* So, Neil, have I ever mentioned that the first thing I ever saw Peter Capaldi in was the Neverwhere miniseries as the Angel Islington?

Neil Gaiman: *signing DVD* And now the Angel has the phonebox!

(It’s funny because Peter Capaldi is the Doctor, and the Angels have the phonebox, and Peter Capaldi played the Angel Islington in Neverwhere, and seriously why am I explaining this joke either you get it or you don’t)

Pack Like An Angel

Bikinis! Baseball hats! Fashion Show goodies! Our models share their must-haves for the plane ride to Bora Bora for our Swim 2016 photo shoot.



For Sara Sampaio, candy is key. “My favorite thing in my bag,” she says about those Skittles.



Taylor Hill is all about the gifts. The little pink VS box holds an international adapter that lets her charge her phone anywhere—a gift from our London Fashion Show team last year! And the stuffed duck?  “I came straight from the Milan Fashion Shows, where a fan gave me this cute stuffed animal. I’m going to give it to my dog. He loves ducks!”



For Josephine Skriver, it’s bikinis before anything else.  “I can forget all my clothes as long as I have my bikini.”

See more stunning pics from Bora Bora, and shop the Swim 2016 collection, online now.

Request: Something In The Water

Request: Hi!! Can I request a cas x reader one shot where the reader is alone in the bunker and the song something in the water by carrie underwood and she’s dancing and singing and doesn’t realize that cas popped in and when she notices she’s really embarrassed and yeah really fluffy i guess. Thanks!! <333

Word Count: 1,011

Here it is, I hope you like it! Thanks, and have a lovely day!<33

They’re gone. The clang of the closing door informs you as such and you grin, turning back to the library.

You crank up the music, letting the melody burst out through the bunker. You’d promised to continue the inventory while the boys were gone – which you are doing, but you’re damn well going to have fun while you’re doing it.

You’ve only been in the bunker for two weeks and you’re still trying to figure out exactly what’s in here. This mostly involved going through boxes and writing labels on them, before scribbling down what it is and where you can find it into the empty ledger you found. It’s dull and repetitive, but since you were injured on the last hunt – it was only a twisted ankle, but is still bruised and painful to walk on, keeping you out of the line for a couple weeks – you promised to keep up the hard work.

You’re going through the store room, lifting a box off of a high shelf when a familiar tune filters through the air. You gasp, nearly dropping the box on your own head. Grinning to yourself, you set the box down and immediately disregard the task at hand.

He said, “I’ve been where you’ve been before.
Down every hallway’s a slamming door.
No way out, no one to come and save me.
Wasting a life that the Good Lord gave me.”

You sing unabashedly, dancing out of the small, cramped room and into the corridor. You’ve known this song since you were young – your mother used to sing it. The irony of the lyrics isn’t lost on you, of course, but if anything it’s made you love the song even more.

You swing around a doorway, belting the lyrics. You’re alone, in the middle of nowhere, and there’s no reason not to just let yourself go for a while. God knows you never get to do it usually.

Well, I heard what he said and I went on my way
Didn’t think about it for a couple of days
Then it hit me like a lightning late one night
I was all out of hope and all out of fight,”

You laugh at yourself as you nearly trip over a shoe that got left in the corridor, before turning around and dancing back towards the store room. The music is getting quieter when you’re this far away, and you’re not exactly happy about that possibility.

And now I’m singing along to amazing grace
Can’t nobody wipe this smile off my face
Got joy in my heart, angels on my side- AH!”

You jolt, nearly falling straight on your butt as you see the angel emerge from the store room. Cas turns off the music without lifting a finger and you stare at him, resenting the amused smile spread over his face.

“Sam and Dean were worried about your ankle,” He says casually, “But it appears to be okay.”

“It’s better.” You say quietly, “Just testing it out a little. How much of that did you see?”

“Enough,” The angel smirks, “You’re very talented, Y/N.”

You feel yourself blushing like an idiot you you run a hand through your hair. He wasn’t meant to catch you. You make a mental note to ward the place against curious angels next time you’re alone.

He seems to sense your embarrassment and smiles slightly – he’d never admit it, and hell, he probably doesn’t even know it, but he has a hell of a thing for you. Ever since the start, when you first met him, you’d been different. To catch a glimpse of you being happy and free and yourself is a rare, beautiful thing.

“Did I interrupt you?”

“Not at all. The song was almost finished, anyway.” You smile, not meeting his eyes, “How are Sam and Dean?”

“The hunt is simple, and they’ll be back soon. At least, that’s what Dean said.”

“Thanks, Cas. You want a drink?” You ask, but the angel shakes his head.

“I don’t drink.”

“You make it really hard to be friendly.” You laugh, “If you don’t want to drink, we’ll have to work.”

“Fine, then. It’s not that bad.” He says, and you scoff, laughing out loud.

You spend the next hour talking animatedly, looking through boxes and documenting their contents. You tell him stories of your hunting experiences and in return, he spins tales of a different nature – of Earth before there are humans to christen it such, and the earliest civilisations.

In fact, you’re still sat in the little storage cupboard when your phone goes off. You check it, to reveal the time as being just after two in the morning. A text from Sam lights up the screen.

You didn’t check in and Cas isn’t back. Are you okay?

You laugh, “Looks like time’s gotten away with us, huh?” You laugh, showing Cas the phone. He chuckles, nodding.

“It really does. You must be tired.”

“Maybe a little.” You reply as you quickly type out a reply.

We’re okay. Just got a little distracted.

Only after sending the message do you realise the double meaning and quickly rectify it.

Not like that. I know what you’re thinking. You’re gross.

You finish writing the last thing in the huge book, and put the box back on the shelf.

Methinks the lady doth protest too much.

Rolling your eyes, you send back a message telling him exactly where to put his protests. You find yourself yawning, and Cas watches you concernedly.

“Maybe you should go to bed.”

“I’m okay.” You protest, but Cas merely shakes his head, reaching out and touching your forehead. Suddenly, you’re lying in bed, in your pyjamas, all tucked in like a child. Cas stands by the side of the bed and you groan.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Get some sleep, Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”