#fully brought to you by misha's forearms and back

[quillquiver]

dean comes home to britney blaring from somewhere in the bunker. there’s only one person who could be listening to music like that, but the loudness is weird. dean shoves most of the groceries into the fridge and makes his way towards the noise, grimacing the closer he gets. 

cas is working out.

cas is lifting barbell with two huge weights on either side, his face flushed as he grunts through a set of squats. he’s sweating through his flimsy, sleeveless shirt, his thighs straining against his indecently short little shorts as he sinks down. dean practically chokes on his own tongue. 

he totally doesn’t mean to stare, but it’s... the guy is strong. like, sure, as an angel he coulda lifted that thing without blinking an eye, but it’s kind of so much hotter to see him sweating for it and still getting the job done. 

like, really hot.

which is something dean is allowed to think, now that they’re... whatever they are. not dating but like. aware. of each other. in that capacity. whatever. cas lifts the bar over his head and lets the thing fall to the floor with a huge clang and dean basically jumps five feet in the air and then trips over his own feet. 

cas whips around as if ready to fight, relaxing once he sees dean. “oh,” he shouts. “it’s you.”

or at least that’s what dean thinks he says. the princess of pop is singing so loud about a circus that dean can feel it in his chest. “what?” he asks.

cas yells something again and dean still can’t hear shit. “what?!” he asks again.

grabbing the mug of what is probably gross and cold coffee from beside the weights, cas swallows a mouthful and rolls his eyes before walking over. “i said,” he says loudly. “it’s you.”

he’s... really close. close enough to touch, for sure. for dean to reach out and touch his damp shirt and the inside of his arm. close enough to kiss. “yeah,” dean replies, laughing for some reason totally beyond himself. “it’s me. i’m—me.” cas’s head tilts ever-so-slightly to the side and dean feels himself smile nervously. cas leans in a little and dean holds his breath and this is it, isn’t it, this is how their entire song and dance culminates: to britney spears’ baby one more time. it’s ridiculous. it’s mortifying.

fuck it.

dean kisses him. it’s way softer than he means to be; just the barest press of lips and he’s pulling away, buzzing. cas chases because he was never taught not to—never taught to play it cool—and soon dean is pressed against the inside of doorframe and digging his fingers into the insane muscles on cas’s back. fuck. fuck. fuck.

baby one more time��has transitioned into gimme more.

dean opens his mouth and their kisses turn wet and sloppy. cas squeezes a big palmful of his ass and dean sinks his free hand into cas’s dark hair. it feels stupid and clumsy, but mostly it’s hot. and fun. dean hasn’t had fun like this in years. they trip over each other and end up sprawled on the ground. Dean makes quick work of shoving at cas’s shorts and cas slides his hand under dean’s shirt. the dude’s so into everything going on it’s hard to get him to focus on the next step. namely: take clothes off.

there’s a different song playing now, but it’s not britney. god, it’s like christina or j lo or—cas’s hand slides into the front of his boxers. dean pretty much only hears static after that.

...it’s only after, when they’re sprawled, panting, on the exercise mats that dean clues into the music. “dude, is this lizzo?”

cas hums. “part of my ‘pop gets shit done’ playlist.”

well alright then.

[munstysmind]

BAD TAKE - Maddison - An Original Story

WARNING/S: Panic attack, talk of therapy, PTSD, domestic abuse

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

SERIES MASTERLIST

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Maddie’s brain is telling her to run but her body won’t move as she gasps for breath. She's in the middle of a panic attack, another panic attack. It’s a bad one too.

She had finally taken everyone's advice, finally gotten the professional help she desperately needed and she has been seeing a therapist who had diagnosed her with PTSD.

Sebastian was so relieved when she told him she was finally seeing a therapist that he cried, not that she saw, she had told him over the phone.

She thought seeing a therapist was supposed to help her but it had only made everything worse, much much worse. Probably because she had to actually face what had happened.

Her last session had brought up details from the assault and the weeks after that her brain had suppressed. She knows she has to talk about what she’s gone through, precess these new details, the whole trauma, before she can start to fully move on.

Seeing a therapist had also made Maddie realise that Travis had been abusing her the entire time they were together, only the abuse had been in ways that weren't physical. She had been in an extremely abusive relationship and she didn't even know.

"Hey, hey, Maddie, focus on me" Mischa says, sounding like he's miles away even though she knows he's right in front of her. They were in the middle of filming a scene when something had triggered her attack.

She’s embarrassed about it too. She always is when they happen on set. She feels like she’s wasting everyone's time when they have to stop filming.

"Focus on my breathing" he tells her as she feels him place both her hands on his chest. She can feel it rise and fall with each breath he took.

She tries her best to concentrate on it as much as she can with her body in fight or flight mode and after a few minutes her breathing starts to slow.

"That's it, you're OK" he says softly, gently rubbing her forearms when she starts to take controlled deep breaths.

"I'm sorry" she says, guiltily looking at him "I messed up a good take"

"No, you didn't" he says, knowing how much she hates messing up takes even when she’s performing at her best.

Over his shoulder she notices that most of the crew have left and smiles a little. They have been amazing. It isn't the first time she’s had a panic attack on set.

In fact she’s had so many the last few month that there was now an unspoken rule amongst the cast and crew. Whoever gets to her first stays with her, everyone else leaves the area.

They know the last thing she needs when she’s calmed down is to feel like they’re all staring at her. They always give her the space she needs. It’s something she’s extremely grateful for.

"Argh, why does this keep happening, what am I doing wrong?" she says, extremely frustrated. She’s over it. This is the third attack she’s had this week.

"Nothing, OK. You're not doing anything wrong Mads. Your brain thinks there's a threat when there isn't. It's not your fault, it's his" Misha tells her as he gets her Hydro Flask from her chair and passes it to her.

"I just want it to stop" she whines before taking a few mouthfuls of water. As much as she tries to keep them in, tears fill her eyes. She doesn't know what she hates more. Her panic attacks or how emotional she is after every single one.

"Come here" he says, pulling her in for a hug. She just buries her face in his chest as he rubs her back, not saying a word. He knows nothing he says will make her feel better when she's like this so he just holds her while she cries.

TAGLIST

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