#misha collins would be like that guy needs to dial it back

[blazeeblake]

I'm not going to say this show can't hurt me (it can; I cried way more than expected during my re-watch this month), but I've lived through the continuing saga of Supernatural, so ship-wise, I've been inoculated and then some.

Bonus: the narrative and behind the scenes support for this particular pairing is nothing like SPN in real time, so again, not feeling particularly bothered over even the nastiest of folks hellbent on stomping all over people's enjoyment and hopes.

[go-diane-winchester]

Misha Collins cant keep track of his own lies.

Misha ''I was a homeless kid' Collins was interviewed by an art magazine, because apparently he is very artsy fartsy.  Whilst given the opportunity to speak about his supposedly favoritist subject: himself, Misha couldn't  remember all the fallacies he had spouted over the years.  I guess Misha figured his mostly underage, deranged fanbase might be too busy, furiously fingering themselves to badly written fanfiction, to actually read something from an intellectual source.  Something tells me that, just like in the mugging case, this reporter wasn't quite buying his lies.  Here are some of the highlights, with Misha's self-indulgent rambling in italics, and with my running commentary in bold [the interviewer is in bold italics]:

''Like most kids, I liked making things with my hands, and my mother helped facilitate this when I was pretty young. But I followed that impulse to an apprentice-level devotion. I would seek out woodworkers when I was 10 or 11, going into shops and learning how to use a lathe or – just asking. I grew up in western Massachusetts, and by the time I got into high school I was fully into this – just talking to people and learning things from them in person.''

So his hippy, drug addict mom who stashed pot down her youngest child's underwear for fear of being arrested, and who, for a short time, raised poor Misha in a car, honed his artistic skills when he was pretty young?  When?  When they were living in the woods?  And using a bowl of ice as a refrigerator?  So either his story of his childhood is greatly exaggerated or....yeah, that's all I got.  How gullible does he think people are?

Then in high school, I needed a job, so I started doing some manual labor.

So whilst at his elite private school, where there are rich dads and moms dropping off their darlings every morning, Misha chooses manual labor.  He likes to talk to people but he didn't speak to Mr and Mrs Moneybags?  He could have been a petty gopher in one of their companies and fared better.  After all, he needed a job.  I wonder why he chose ''manual labor''?  And why he chose to word it like that, instead of saying ''I became a carpenter's apprentice''.  I guess it sounds honorable.  That's is nothing dramatic about  saying that you flip burgers at McDs.  Saying that you work in a menial, underpaid job for a multimillion dollar company, does have a more dramatic feel to it. 

I built that barn on my mother’s property. Our house had burned down, so with the insurance proceeds, we built that and...

Wait, wasn't Misha's mom a pothead who lived in a car for some time with her two children?  Now, not only does she have property but she has the money to pay for insurance.  When did you live in the car, Misha?  When the house burnt down?  Why didn't you live in that house you showed footage of, on twitter?  Its a nice house, complete with Christmas stockings.  It doesn't quite gel with your underprivileged childhood narrative, but nice nonetheless.   

I worked a lot when I was in college, probably 30 hours a week most of the time. I did some handyman stuff, some carpentry stuff. After sophomore year, I took a year off. I interned at the [Clinton] White House, worked at NPR, became an EMT, started a summer camp for kids. It was a great year.

What is he?  A career whore?  So he was artsy fartsy, but he worked everywhere doing jobs that were unrelated to each other, instead of staying in his field of carpentry, and making money from that.  He got EMT certification.  Was it free?  Did he pay for it with his tuition fees?  What was the purpose of it, if making money for fees was of paramount importance?  That doesn't make sense, because if he was working 30 hour weeks, when did he have time to study?  The average work day is a tad longer, about 40 hours a week.  And if he was studying and working, when was Superman sleeping?  Why was he working so hard?  To put himself to college, don'tcha know.  Even though colleges offer student loans and don't accept their fees in installments.  And yet, he took time off for one year after sophomore.  Was it to make a lot of money for his tuition fees?  Nope, it was to become an EMT and start a summer camp for kids.  I guess summer camps are big business and you can pay off great debts if you start one.  Good to know.  His internment at the Whitehouse only lasted four months, and yet he has acquired all the knowledge there is to acquire, to become a political knowitall on twitter.  Sidenote:  Is it normal for internships at the Whitehouse to last, such a short time.  I am genuinely curious, because it doesn't sound right. 

This is where I think the interviewer started to sound like she was side-eyeing the wood working maestro and his yarns of tall tales.

After graduation you got into acting, and in 1999, you moved with Victoria to Los Angeles for film and television work. There, in 2001, you bought your first house. Tell us about it. You were a starving actor?

Yeah. Right after we bought it, our realtor said, “There’s a TV show that would like to shoot your house.” They brought this [house-hunting] couple through, and when we saw the episode, they had surveyed the house and were like, “We don’t want to touch this piece of s---.” It was a real wreck, had been seriously neglected. It was built in the 1920s, and built by people who weren’t carpenters, didn’t know what they were doing. It was built so poorly, and everything was sagging – the window frames, the eaves.

Can you believe that?  The starving actor bought a house.  Let that sink in.  He recognized that the house was built by non-carpenters [how was this building standing.  Twas a miracle, I tell you.]  And despite being a starving actor with a small amount of money, and a knowledge of carpentry, he bought a house that was badly built by non-carpenters.  So he knew he was buying a liability.  Why?

The kitchen floor you put in is beautiful. Yes, that’s gunstock, from a gun manufacturer in Northern California.

Mr Gun Free supporting the Gun manufacturing industry.  Man, this guy is a hypocrite. 

You lived in that first house for 11 years. Do you still own it? We rent it out to some lovely people who love it, so it’s good.

Fun fact:  Mr Humble Pie has two pieces of property.  And he is making money off of one, but he chooses to attend cons with the same torn T-shirts from years ago, or has to fleece off of Jensen's wardrobe and generosity, otherwise he would be doing his panels naked, poor thing.  Why doesn't he stop his cruises for a year, and use that money to buy decent threads?  One shirt can last a few years.  The lies are  embarrassing, but miraculously his minions believe him. 

On the way to this house, you became very successful with this hugely popular TV series. Life changed. Do you still manage to make time for handwork? 

Yeah. I’ve discovered that I really like working. Work can be respite for me, and switching gears is really key. Going from working on scripts to working with my hands is therapeutic, for sure. I am still managing to work with my hands. I was just doing some woodworking yesterday. I do a lot of cooking. That’s a big part of my life, and also I think a barometer of emotional health. When I’m not cooking, it’s a sign that I’m too stressed out and I’ve got to dial things back a little bit. I do a lot of canning. I put up 120 jars of blackberry jam this fall.

What an irony!  One of the greatest instigators of stress for his co-workers and their fans, gets stressed out himself.  Yeah, guilt can do that.  Plus, he likes quantifying accomplishments.  That is why Gish exists.  Quantity over quality. 

Which artists inspire you? I love Christo and Jeanne Claude, because of the mind-bending scale on which they’ve created things, like they’re rethinking what’s possible. I’m somebody who kind of likes to break rules, to bend rules when appropriate.

I could write a whole big post, on Misha's rule breaking and bending.  From stealing Whitehouse property [and bragging about it] to telling fans about the scratched line in the Crypt which got Jensen a barrage of abuse on Twitter.  The one thing that he spoke about that doesn't make sense is his story about almost getting arrested for reading a book on a building rooftop.  It makes no sense.  There is a portion of the story that is missing, I'm sure.  Misha is a great exaggerator.

Have you turned any Supernatural castmates on to craft? On a set, there’s tons of downtime, a lot of sitting and knitting and crocheting. And I have occasionally been in the mix there. Last year Jensen [Ackles], my co-star, walked up and saw me knitting, and he just looked at me and said, “Really?” But I could tell there was jealousy behind it, more than criticism. So I’ll teach him to knit, and it’ll be fine. We’ll get through this.

Will you look at that?  There are around 70 people on set at any given time.  Many of them must have seen Misha knitting.  And look who Misha decided to mention.  Was that a ''just in case, a nutty heller is reading this'' insertion?  No mention is made of Jared, because who cares about him, right?  Got to give the crowd what they want.  I am side eyeing the knitting claim myself, because I do knit and having seen a photo of him knitting, I can safely say that, that is not how you grasp at the yarn.  You knit with loose fingers because yarn is abrasive. 

The first big project we did with Random Acts was we built an orphanage and community center in Haiti. I would not have thought that was a tackle-able enterprise if I didn’t have a background in building.  Our biggest fundraising driver for the projects that we do – like building a school or an orphanage – is we bring folks down in groups of 25 or so to Haiti or to Nicaragua, and they help in the building process. We roll up our sleeves and get our hands dirty.

Wow, he built the 500K orphanage with his own hands, but didn't think about lights for the children.  His response regarding the lights was ''it's Haiti and it takes three f*cking years to get an electrician''.  Wow, I am a third worlder too, but we have electricians.  How backwards is Haiti that he couldn't find a single electrician in the whole country, to light the place up for the poor orphans?  He couldn't squeeze in one electrician in the group of 25 or so.  Are there no philanthropic electricians in his circles?  My word, electricians are such selfish people, don't you think?  They don't want to roll up their sleeves and get their hands dirty.  Why couldn't he just pay for one instead of waiting three years?  Fun fact:  According to their website, the orphanage, aka, the Jacmel children's center houses only 15 children, but another page says there are 27 children living in the house.  They don't know how many children they are looking after.  But that is still a small amount.  So where did all these kids go?

Misha either staged this picture with school kids on an excursion or all those kids got adopted by the staggeringly high quantity of rich couples living in Haiti, right Misha?  SMH

This question made me smirk.  The interviewer had to know Misha has never been to public school.  Look how Mr Bleeding Heart answers the question.

As we know, art programs in K-12 public schools these days are in decline, especially shop class, manual arts. How can we nurture creativity in kids, and why is that important? When I was 9 years old, I had a paper route. One day my younger brother and I were collecting money, and Mr. Haigis answered the door. He started talking to us, and he discovered that our parents were separated, and we didn’t live with our father. In the 1960s, he had run a woodshop for little kids. He had stopped doing it because he got busy with his career. Now he was retired. These two boys show up delivering papers on his front stoop, and it just comes to him: “I’ve got to do the same thing for those kids.”

So Mr Haigis left all the poor, underprivileged children and decided to help these two boys who were going to an elite school?  Sounds legit.  What about public school children, Mr Haigis?  Don't you care about them?   

I was a starving actor for at least a decade.

Misha was a starving actor who worked on 24 projects before getting SPN, but he still managed to buy a house.  Fun fact:  he was an  associate producer on a docu-movie, ''Loot'' which won best documentary at the LA film festival.  His movie didn't need sock puppets to win this one.  Misha should produce more.  That way he wont be on screen, festering up the frame.  The less we see of him, the better. 

http://www.jacmelchildren.org/about/team/

http://www.jacmelchildren.org/

https://craftcouncil.org/magazine/article/builder-baker-angel-maker

[winchesterprincessbride]

The Contest-Part 1-(Reblog)

*To Celebrate 3000 followers, I thought I would reblog my most popular series, The Contest, to give people who didn’t read it the first time around the chance. I will be reblogging the first few chapters.  I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!*

To celebrate Supernatural’s 15th season, the producers have decided to hold a contest to cast an unknown in a recurring role as Sam’s rumored love interest. They are doing open casting calls all over the country. Your best friend Nikki wants to go and she drags you along.

Characters: Reader, Best friend Nikki (OC), Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, other Supernatural cast and crew

Nikki and I have been best friends since the second grade. She has seen me through breakups, crappy jobs, losing my Dad, and 4 grueling years of nursing school. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.  I had just finished 3 twelve hour shifts in a row and I had four days off. I couldn’t wait to put on my comfy PJ’s and watch Netflix until my brain exploded.

My cell rang and I smiled when I saw who it was.  “Hey, Nik! Perfect timing as always! What’s new?” I asked.

“Hey Y/N, remember when you took your nursing boards and I had to drive you because you were convinced you were gonna puke from nerves?” Nikki said in one long breath.

I was immediately suspicious.  She wanted something.  “Yeah,” I said slowly.

“Well, I need you to do the same for me on Saturday.” She blurted out.

“You're taking nursing boards on Saturday?” I was really confused.

“No silly.  Supernatural is having a contest to celebrate its 15th season on the air.  They are having open casting calls in cities around the country for a new character.  They want to cast an unknown.  And the rumor is its Jared’s love interest!!” She was practically screeching with excitement.

I sighed.  This again.  Nikki had tried everything to get me to watch this show. I had watched maybe 10 minutes of the pilot before I completely lost interest.  She was obsessed.  She talked about these guys non stop.

“Is that the pretty boy or the freakishly tall one?” I asked, completely not listening or caring either way.

“The tall one of course! Please say you’ll come with me.  A role on Supernatural, it’s like my dream come true. PLEEEAAAASEE?” She whined.

“All right. Fine, whatever.  Just stop whining!” But if you get the job and move to L.A., I can come visit you whenever I want, right?” I teased.

“The show films in Vancouver, not L.A!” She immediately replied.

“Canada???  It’s colder there than it is here.  Never mind.  I’ll see you on Saturday Shorty.” I couldn’t resist calling her by her hated childhood nickname just to annoy her.

“Later Giraffe.” She snorted, giving it right back to me.  Bitch.

Saturday morning Nikki picked me up at the asscrack of dawn to drive to New York City for this thing.  She was dressed to the nines with perfect makeup and even more perfectly coiffed hair.  I was barely awake and wore jeans, boots, my red peacoat and a grimace of pain.  “Why do we have to go so early?” I whined.

“Because the line will be long,” Nikki responded.

“Seriously Nik, no one watches this show but you.  There’s a Starbucks. I need coffee.”

It was only 8:30 by the time we reached the nondescript warehouse where this thing was happening.  We walked inside and a miserable looking girl wearing a headset and holding a clipboard wrote down Nikki’s name and gave her a number.  “What about you?” She asked, looking at me.

“Oh, I’m just here for moral support,” I replied.

“You can’t go any further unless you're participating.” She replied in a monotone.

Nikki grabbed my arm in a death grip.  “Please Y/N.  You HAVE to come! I can’t do this without you. Please!”  She legitimately looked terrified.

“The things I do for you, girl,” I muttered before I gave Ms. Happy my name and got my number.  “I am so going to regret this.”

We were ushered into a large room with a stage set up at one end.  A man came up on stage with a microphone to give us instructions.  “You are going to form a single file line and walk across the stage one at a time.  You will either be told to go to the right or the left.  Please have a seat on the chairs indicated.  You will be given further instructions.”

“This is so stupid,” I grumbled.

Some of the girls sashayed across the stage, for lack of a better word.  I just walked. I got sent to the left, Nikki went to the right.  I didn’t see her for a long time after that.  We kept going to different rooms and they asked us questions and our group got smaller and smaller.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we went one at a time into a room with a table and two chairs.  There must have been another exit because I never saw anyone come out.  I was the last one from our group called in.  There was a middle-aged woman sitting behind the table.  She flashed me a bright smile.

“Hi. And you are?”

“Y/F/N, Y/L/N” I replied.

“So Miss Y/L/N, what do you do for a living?” She was writing stuff down on a yellow legal pad.

“I’m a nurse.”

“And how tall are you, Dear?” She looked at me, expectantly. I had spent my teen years trying to hide how tall I was, but I had finally learned to embrace it.

“I’m 6 feet tall,” I replied confidently. She jotted some more stuff down.

“And how long have you been a fan of Supernatural?”

I decided the truth was best.  “Can I be honest with you?” I asked.

“Of course, Dear.” She said.  She reminded of my Mom.

“I’ve never really seen an episode of this show.  The only reason I’m here is because my best friend Nikki loves this show and is obsessed with that Jensen Padaleski guy.  I think he’s the freakishly tall one.  Or maybe the pretty one.  I honestly don’t know what they look like. I came for moral support but they wouldn’t let me stay unless I took a number.”  Whew.  It felt good to get that off my chest.

“Do you sing at all?” She asked me suddenly.

“I was in choir in high school and college, so I can sing.  Why do you ask?”

She suddenly gathered up her papers.  “I think we have what we need.  If you could head down to the last room on the left and have a seat, that would be great.”

“Okay.  Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Sweetie, you too.” She said kindly.

As soon as you were out the door, the woman dialed a number on her cell. “Bob, is Jared here yet? I’m sending you a video of a girl I just saw.  I think she’s the one.  And get this, she doesn’t even watch the show!  I just emailed you the video.  Call me back after you watch it.”

Robert Singer, executive producer of the show, opened an attachment on the email the casting director Susan had just sent.  Jared had some input into who they chose, so he had decided to come to New York since it was the largest casting call they were doing.

Jared and Bob watched the video on Bob’s IPad, laughing when you called him “freakishly tall”, and “Jensen Padaleski”.

“She’s only a little shorter than me. I wouldn’t have to sit down to kiss her.” Jared noted. “And she’s pretty, really pretty.”

“We need to see if she can act, and sing,” Bob commented.

The writers had come up with a soulmate storyline for season 15.  Sam meets a mysterious woman during a hunt and starts having dreams about her.  The dreams all take place in the past.  In them she and Sam are lovers, but something always pulls them apart.  Sam eventually finds out that she is his soulmate from Castiel.

“Since she doesn’t know what I look like, I want to meet her.  I need to see if I have any chemistry with her.  I have an idea.  Where is she?” Jared asked.

“Do I even want to know what your idea is?” Bob asked nervously.  “She’s in the last room on the left.  Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Jared flashed his dimpled grin as he left the room.  He walked down the hall and stopped outside the correct door.  Pausing for a moment, he took a deep breath before entering the room.  Time to see if his act could fool her.

“Hi.” He said, smiling at you.  “I’m Tom.  What’s your name?”

Part 2

@percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it @pinknerdpanda  @atc74 @jayankles  @midnightjazzmine @moonlitskinwalker @we-are-band-sexuals @winchestergirl-love @gecko9596 @ronnie248-blog @essie1876 @bohowitch @just-another-busy-fangirl @captainradicalpassion @keelzy2 @disneymarina @kittenofdoomage @frankiea1998 @akshi8278 @stylinson531 @valynsia @dr-dean @theoutlinez  @imweirdandobsessed    @luciisthebest  @laurenisnot @maddieburcham1  @canadianjelly @muliermalefici @brewsthespirit-blog @ilsawasanacrobat @nanie5@weasleywinchester-blog @samisimportant @fatalcrossbow  @violetsamalamb @letmusicguideu @grantsgorgeousgirl @faegal04 @feelmyroarrrr @kay18115@milkymilky-cocopuff @mikimausiii @the-greatest-temptation @superpanicromancesummer @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @emoryhemsworth @squirrel-moose-winchester

[katymacsupernatural]

Love at First Video Part 43: Happily Ever After

Misha Collins x Reader

1200 Words

Story Summary: You were a babysitter, but you wanted to be more. Deciding to create a cooking video, you were shocked when it garnered the attention of a well known actor. Soon the attention becomes something neither of you can ignore.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Several Months Later:

Groaning, you pressed your hand to your lower back, needing some sort of relief from the constant pressure to your lower back and bladder. Moving your other hand, you rubbed your swollen belly, smiling slightly when a kicking foot connected with your hand.

"Woah, your a fiesty girl aren't you." You whispered, rubbing your hand up and down your belly, trying to soothe her. "You can come out any day now." You prodded her as you waddled over to the fireplace mantle in your living room. You had the house to yourself for a couple of hours. Gen had the kids over at her place, and Misha was busy filming away.

At first, it had been nice, having the house to yourself. You attempted to get some work done, checking on the nursery Misha had worked so hard on setting up. He was so excited for another girl, and he had outdone himself on the room. But then, an ache settled in, and you weren't comfortable anywhere. You had tried laying down to take a nap, but a tightening in your belly had you back up, pacing the bottom floor. Then, you tried sitting in the living room, your favorite movie playing softly in the background. That lasted all of ten minutes before you needed to be back up and moving around.

So, here you were, walking around, trying to keep your mind off the pain that would travel through you occasionally. You had been warned, by Gen, and your doctors, that this would happen in your last trimester. That you would experience labor like pains, but it wasn't anything to worry about. After 24 hours of them though, you were ready for them to be over, and for your little girl to be here.

Pulling down a photo frame, you stared at the picture taken a couple months ago, gently running your finger along the frame as you remembered the happy time. It was taken a couple of days after your wedding, during the reception Misha made sure that was still held. It had been a beautiful day, with all of your friends and family there in attendance. During the middle of the huge party, Jensen had come up with a huge smile on his face, and a friend at his side. Introducing him as Chris, he had explained it was your wedding present. A chance for wedding pictures that hadn't happened during the actual wedding.

Grateful for the chance, you had posed in front of the old wooden barn, with Misha, with the kids, even with your friends. It had been fun, and you had so many amazing pictures from the opportunity. But one had quickly become your favorite, the one in your hands. It had you and Misha in the center. Misha had you in his arms, bridal style, while Maison and West stood on each side of you. You had a huge smile on your face, laughing as Misha tickled you. On each side of the kids stood Jared and his family, and Jensen and his. It was  the main people that you considered important in your life, and everyone seemed so happy and carefree. It sat on your mantle, in a place of honor, where everyone could see.

As you went to place it back on it's rightful place, an extremely painful cramp went through you, and the picture slipped through your hands as you went to clutch your stomach. Hearing the shattering of the glass, you could only double over as you felt a warm, wet trickling down your legs. "Not the best timing." You muttered as you wobbled your way to where your phone was laying. As you dialed Misha, you heard a car pulling up in your driveway. With nothing but ringing on the other end of the line, you heard footsteps rushing through the garage, before two small bodies were standing in front of you. "Mom!" West exclaimed, with Gen right behind him. "Can we spend the night with the Padalecki's?" He asked you, stumbling over their last name. "They promised we could roast marshmallows on their fire pit!"

"Y/N?" Gen asked, her face full of concern as she came over to you, placing her hand on your shoulder.

"I think it's time." You whispered, not wanting to alarm the kids. "And Misha won't be done filming for another couple of hours."

She nodded, pulling her phone out and sending off a quick text message. "Don't worry. We will work this out. Jared's at home with our kids, I'll have him meet us at the hospital, and he can take them all home. We'll call the studio, and they will let Misha know, and he will meet us there as soon as possible."

You nodded, taking deep breaths. "Now, do you have a bag packed and ready to go? I know it's a little early, but..." She said, and you pointed to a small bag that was placed near the door.

"Yeah, Misha made me pack that over a month ago, just to be prepared." You told her, and she told West to grab it while she guided you out the door, and into her car.

"Looks like you guys will be spending the night after all. We just need to make a quick stop, and then Jared will be there to get you." She explained to the kids as she buckled them into the car.

"Is Mom okay?" You heard West whisper to Gen before she shut the door.

"Yeah, she is. I just think your new little sister is on her way." She explained before she pulled out of the driveway. "Jared is calling the studio, and then he will meet us. Everything will work out. Now, take deep breaths."

Keeping your eyes closed, you followed her directions, your contractions still far enough apart that you knew it would be awhile before your daughter would be born.

Luckily, the hospital was only a short drive from your house, and soon Gen was parking close to the entrance. You pulled yourself out of the car, as Gen undid the kids. Soon West was holding your hand as Gen carried a sleepy Maison along with your bag.

ONE MORE PART LEFT!!

If you’re enjoying this and my other stories, consider buying me a Kofi :)

Misha Collins Tags:@pastapizzacheesedragon @castiel-savvy18 @abtmnt @trixie537 @jeepangel @a-girl-who-loves-disney @riversong-sam @sortaathief

Love at First Video Tags: @casbabydontgoineedyou @xdifsx @ronnie248-blog @just-another-busy-fangirl @aly-birleanu @dancingcapricorn @pancake-pages @bowtiesarecool6288 @ariethegreat98 @graceis-lost-at-last @chillnadia @earthtokace @fandomlover03 @posiemax @winvhesters @jenna-luke @emycakes4457 @fangirl-who-dreams @avc212 @mandylove1000 @amheimb @tbuggles4me @bookchic20  @ellen-reincarnated1967  @tiffanycaruso @assbutt-still-in-hell @yer-a-wizerd-harry @supernatural-screams @thebookisbtr @potter-super-who @thebookisbtr  @swiftart @snarkpunsandsarcasm

Forever Tags(Closed): @simplycheyenneautumn @nerdybookwormsinger @generalgoldfishldrm @just-another-busy-fangirl @saoirsewhittle @summer-binging-spn @pizzarollpatrol @createdbybadappreciation @percussiongirl2017 @trashforwinchesters @freakintasticfan @jensen-gal @bohowitch @amanda-teaches @loricwizardbluetoastedcake @jensen-gal @babydanixox @bea789 @fangirl1802 @chelsea072498 @moosesamdeancasbees @maui137 @evyiione @supernatural-jackles @keelzy2 @eringva @16wiishes @zombiewerewolfqueen @mrsbatesmotel53 @wayward-girl @mogaruke @cornflax01 @myplaceofthingsilove @tatortot2701 @livingasafangirl @be-amaziing @castielhasthetardis @wonderange @atc74 @vvinch3st3r @likesiriusly @cascar24 @jayankles @li-ssu @destiel-addict-forever @sgarrett49 @a-bouquet-of-fandoms @edward-lover18 @danslittlecurl @pancake-pages @iwriteaboutdean @artisticpoet @pretty-fortune @padackles2010 @procratsinator @andreaaalove @docharleythegeekqueen @bradygabrielle-blog @sandlee44 @juatanotherbandgirl @ria132love @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @oneshoeshort @extreme-supernatural-lover @ohgodjensen @mellowlandrunaway @brunettechick @beltz2016 @cascar24 @benjerry707 @beyourownbeautifulmistake @jenna-luke @bambinovak @camelotandastronauts @imboredsueme @winchester-writes @hunterpuff @ginamsmith @quiverhope @magicalunicorn84 @gloria1097  @littleblue5mcdork @cantsleepian @nanie5 @anxuanpham @superbadassnatural @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @iliketowrite02 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @dixonsvixon2017 @haleyhay96 @saveprettydays @gaia4life @captainemwinchester @thoughtsoftheantagonist @eileenlikesyou-maybe @emoryhemsworth @inlovewithbja  @waywardmoeyy @darthdeziewok @roxyspearing @upon-a-girl @iriyelle @tokentransboy @sammysgirl1997 @the--blackdahlia @criesateverything @captainaudreystark  @captainradicalpassion @sgtbxckybxrnes @freddy-fuckboy-tammy @randomthings077 @love-untiltheresnoloveleft @mysterious398-deactivated201709 @crystal923 @sai-kida134 @emmazach @ithinkimadorable-67​ @spn-dscc @dslocum89 @angelsandwinchesters @naviwhite @disneychic8​ @brooke-supernatural16​ @eiskeks202​ @katelynbkool​ @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels​ @rosegoldquintis​ @buffytheangelslayer​ @hollandisstilinski​ @essie1876​ @hetsgrinch​ @spnbaby67​ @tunadean​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @boxywrites​ @spnbaby-67​ @mariahoedt​ @goldenolaf25​

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

No Greater Sorrow

Characters: Misha Collins, Y/N Collins, Jensen Ackles,   

Pairing: Misha x Reader

Warnings: Character death -  aside from that I will list the warnings in the tags since I don’t want to give anything away.      

Word Count: 2300ish

A/N: Hey guys welcome to SPN Angst Appreciation Day 2017 - I hope y’all are ready to cry. As one of your hosts I thought it was my duty to do my best to make sure you go to bed with puffy eyes tonight so I am posting 3 brand new one shots in honor of this day. This is number 2

@chaos-and-the-calm67 was sweet enough to let me submit for her challenge a little late so I could post this on Angst day. My prompt was “She has this gentle laugh that sounds like running water. I’ll do almost anything to amuse or entertain her, just so I can hear it. But she’s not laughing all that much anymore, is she? Ever since…” - My prompt gif is under the cut.

Thanks to a billion to my sweet lil sis @mysupernaturalfics for betaing this for me.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Misha’s heart jumped into his throat when he saw her across the street. She was as beautiful as he had always been, maybe even more so. He felt as if his entire body was being pulled towards her, but his head stopped him. She was smiling. It had been so long since he had seen that perfect smile of hers and he knew that the moment she saw him it would disappear. He was a constant reminder of what they had lost to her, even if Misha was barely breathing without her, he couldn't approach her. She needed time away from him and even if she could never find away to look at him without falling apart ever again Misha would accept that. He could live with his heart in pieces. He could live with being alone, but what he couldn’t live with was being the cause of her unhappiness. So he respected her wishes and he stayed on his side of the street. He couldn’t tear himself away though, he just stood there watching her. Remembering a time when they had been happy.

“Mish!!” Misha jumped from the couch where he had been sitting reading the newest Supernatural script, when her cry sounded through the house. Misha sprinted up the stairs and towards their bedroom where he had thought her voice had originated from, but when it was empty he instantly grew all the more concerned.

“Y/N/N? Where are you, baby?” Misha called out for her, to see her head pop out of their master bathroom.

“In here,” she replied with a smile and Misha breath a sigh of relief, when he saw her smiling at him.

“Dammit woman! Don’t scream like that. I thought there was a burglar up here or something,” Misha’s voice was more teasing than scolding as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss. “You hollar?” Misha smirked at her resting his forehead against hers as they broke apart.

“Yeah,” she answered still looking slightly dazed from the kiss and Misha chuckled, making her slap her hands flat against his chest. “Well if you kiss a girl like that, it is no wonder she get momentarily amnesia,” Y/N sulked, making Misha full on laugh.

“You are aware we have been married for 4 years right?” Misha’s teasing made her eyebrows shoot to her forehead as she glared playfully at him.

“Doesn’t stop you from staring at my boobs every chance you get or smack my ass when we have guest over,” she poked his chest, pretending to be mad and Misha held his hands up in defense.

“Touche, beautiful.” He chuckled, “did your memory happen to return yet?”

“Oh yeah,” she beamed, quickly turning around grabbing something of the counter, before hiding it behind her back. “Guess,” she ordered and Misha felt his heart skip a beat.

They had been trying to get pregnant for months with no luck. It was getting to the point where it was getting a touchy subject, so Misha barely dared speak the words. He swallowed harshly, looking to her flat stomach and back to her face before speaking, “you’re… are you?”

Y/N laughed, pulling the pregnancy test from behind her back, showing him the little plus in the middle of it. “We’re having a baby Mish!”

Misha felt the tears press against his eyes as he thought about their son; Raiden Lionel Collins. Y/N had been glowing for 9 months and Misha had never seen her happier. She had grown more and more beautiful to him with each passing day until she had finally woken him up in the middle of the night, telling him it was time. Misha had panicked, falling of the bed and running for the car, with her bag in hand totally forgetting about his wife until he was pulling out of the driveway.

Misha hit the breaks, grumbling curses at himself as he jumped out of the car and ran back inside the house to find his very pregnant wife struggling to get down the stairs.

“I’m so sorry baby,” Misha pleaded with her when he saw the look in her eyes, “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking,” he admitted, grabbing her arm supporting her weight.

“I think the trouble is that you weren’t,” she snapped at him, before crouching over in pain from a contraction hiding her.

Misha held her up, preventing her from falling down the stairs, gently rubbing his free hand on her back. “It’s gonna be okay baby. Just br…”

“I swear to God Misha if you tell me to breath I am going to kill you,” she hissed at him and Misha instantly stopped talking.

It had taken them a few minutes to get her down of the stairs and to the car, but when they had Y/N’s mood seemed to have improved a bit. She was still in pain and uncomfortable but at least she was not making threats against his life anymore.

It had been a speedy birth, which Misha thanked the stars for. Had it been even a few minutes longer, he was sure she had broken his hand if not his neck. No matter what he had said seemed to cause a very angry outburst from her, but he had kept trying. Right up until the moment where Y/N held their son in her arms.

“Look at him Mish,” Y/N coed as Misha sat down on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arm around her. He was so proud of her and he had never loved her more than he did in that moment. He had never thought he could love another human being as completely and instantly as he loved the little bundle in her arms.

“He’s perfect,” Misha gushed and Y/N looked up at him with happy tears in her eyes.

“We made him,” she spoke in complete awe and Misha smiled pressing his lips against hers in a tender, loving kiss.

“Well, you did the hard part,” he chuckled and winked at her, “though I am not sure my hand will ever work probably again.”

The first few months had passed in a happy, sleep-deprived daze and every day Misha had fallen more and more in love with his little family. He had never been more proud of his wife. The way she was with Raiden had taken his breath away completely. They had never been happier, right up until the night where Misha’s world had come crashing down around him.

A glass-rattling scream echoed through the house and Misha was instantly pulled from his sleep. He jumped from the bed, following his wife’s screams and cries until he reached their son’s nursery. His heart stopped the second he saw her on the floor with Raiden in her arms. The little boy’s lips were blue and he was completely pale.

“Misha,” Y/N looked up at him, silently pleading with him to do something. To save their son. To wake her up from this nightmare, but Misha knew it was too late. Still he rushed from the nursery, getting his phone, dialing 9-1-1.

Within minutes the paramedics rushed through the doors, doing everything within their power to receive their son as Misha held Y/N back. She was crying and screaming as they worked, but to no avail. SIDS had taken their perfect, blue-eyed baby boy and with their lose a deep abyss formed between them.

Misha had tried everything. The first few months after their son’s passing, Y/N had barely left their bed. Misha had coached her to eat and bathe but he couldn’t get her out of the house. His own heart was breaking. He had kept seeing Y/N and Raiden happy and healthy as he had silently walked around the house, keeping everything in order and cooking for his grief struck wife. He had to push everything aside for her and be strong. Falling apart wouldn’t do her any good, so Misha kept pushing through, but the way she acted around him didn’t make it any easier. She turned away from him when they slept, she shied away from his touch and she barely looked at him anymore. Misha wished there was something he could do. Hell he would take her screaming and crying over this, but her grief was too deep. Misha had no idea how to pull her out of it.

When he was home he had moved around like a robot, going through the motions, keeping her as healthy as he could. His heart breaking a little, every time she had refused to look at him.

It took Misha a few months of Jensen knocking on his trailer door each time he was on set to finally break down in tears himself. He hated leaving her behind, when she was feeling like this, even if it was only for a few days at the time.

Misha was sitting on Jensen’s couch across from his friend. In his hands Misha held a picture of Y/N and Raiden. It was his favorite one. He loved the way it looked like his son was smiling up at his mom and she was completely glowing.

“Y/N’s laugh might be my favorite thing about her,” Misha finally spoke quietly and Jensen just sat there listening to him. “She has this gentle laugh that sounds like running water. I’ll do almost anything to amuse or entertain her, just so I can hear it. But she’s not laughing all that much anymore, is she? Ever since…” Misha’s words trailed out and Jensen instantly shuffled to sit beside him, wrapping his arm around Misha’s shoulder as he fell apart completely. “This isn’t fair Jensen,” Misha sobbed into his friend’s embrace.

“No, buddy. It isn’t,” Jensen agreed letting the heavy silence fall between them, knowing there was nothing he could said or do that would take Misha’s pain away.

Misha still wasn’t sure how he had made it through after a convention he had come home to find her gone. He had panicked at first, fearing the worst. With the way she had been feeling he should never have left her alone. He called everyone they knew until her mom finally called him back telling him she was with a family friend and that she needed time.

He wasn’t sure how he had kept working or even breathing after that. She had been his entire world for so long. They had been dating for 10 years before they had finally gotten married and Misha had no idea how to even exist without her. Every night he read the letter she had left him over and over again, desperate to find some hope in there that she wasn’t gone for good. But every night he found none and he ended up crying himself to sleep, clutching the pillow wishing it was her.

Misha.

I am so sorry. I know this isn’t fair to you. I know you lost a son too. Our perfect little boy, with big blue eyes and fluffy dark hair. My little boy, who looked so much like my husband. I used to love that and now all I can see every time I look at you is him. All I can feel every time you are near me is the grief that is threatening to suffocate me.

Misha you are my best friend and the love of my life. I will always love you, but I can’t be with you anymore. I am so sorry and I hope that you can forgive me one day.

Y/N.

Now here she was right in front of him, almost a year after she had left. She had never filed for divorce and neither had he, but he had come to terms with the fact that he would never see her again. That he would never see her smile, and here see was. Smiling with a few of her friends. Right up until her eyes met his from across the street that was. Misha felt the tears stream down his face as she froze for a moment, just staring at him, before taking off. Running away from him as fast as she could. Misha didn’t think, he just reacted. Following her down to the beach, where he after searching for close to an hour found her, sitting on the rocks, staring down at something in her hands.

“Y/N/N?” Misha spoke softly, hoping she wouldn’t run again. She didn’t but she also didn’t look up at him. She stayed as Misha sat down next to her looking over her shoulder to see the picture. She had taken it in the kitchen the day after their first family outing. Raiden was asleep on Misha’s chest and Misha was making a silly face as Y/N snapped the picture.

Tears were streaming down her face when she looked up at Misha and his heart shattered into a million pieces. “I miss you so much Mish,” she sobbed, “but I don’t know how to be with you without him.”

Misha gentle open his arms to her and she fell into his embrace, crying uncontrollably as Misha ran his hand over her hair, breathing a small sigh of relief. He knew there was no guarantees. He knew they were both still hurting, but at least she spoke to him. At least she was letting him hold her.

“I miss you too baby,” Misha spoke through his own tears as they clung to each other. “I miss you too...”  

Misha Tag Team

 @mysupernaturalfics @blacktithe7 @percywinchester27  @docharleythegeekqueen @hexparker @fellmyroarrrr @starswirlblitz @d-s-winchester @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @fuckyeahfeysand @winchesters-flannels @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @supernatural-jackles @adriellej @dance4angels @jayankles @mouselovesmusic @twistnshoutx @redunicorn10 @atc74 @sandlee44 @gecko9596 @jensen-jarpad @deansleather @phoenixia67 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @aiaranradnay @castiels-broken-fool @bemyqueenofdarkness

[the-awkward-writer]

Death Is But The Next Great Adventure

Pairings: Misha x Reader, Jensen, Jared, Clif, and the rest of the SPN Family

Word Count: 6k damn this is my longest fic

Warnings: Death of a minor character, angst, swearing, fluff

A/N: This is my entry for @frickfracklesackles’s 1000 Followers Challenge! This is also my first attempt at writing Misha so... This was actually really enjoyable to write, and it got away from me... The quote is bolded in the fic so it is relatively easy to find. Enjoy!

Prompt: Important person dies, you fall for the person who helps you through it.

Quote: “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure" - Albus Dumbledore

"Misha fucking Collins!" You screamed at your very immature blue-eyed co-worker. You leapt out of your chair, taking a few steps towards him, but only to scare him.

Misha only laughed harder as he ran away from you. He had just ruined yet another scene by making obscene faces at Jared and Jensen, effectively making them screw up their lines. It made the fifth ruined scene of the day.

You turned around to face your other giant co workers, who were laughing their asses off on the dirty floor. "Don't get me started, you two!" You reprimanded them. "This is the last scene today, let's just get through it, please!” You pleaded with them.

They must have heard the desperate note in your voice because Jensen and Jared apologized, collecting themselves quickly.

You huffed, and sat back down in your director's chair. "Let's roll again," you said with a heavy sigh.

The crew quickly reset everything, getting ready to roll again.

When Jensen and Jared were on their marks, you gave the crew the word, yelling action.

Jensen and Jared were currently working through an emotional scene, a chick-flick moment, as Dean would say. Another person died, and Dean had to break the news to Sam. It wasn’t written in, but Jared said that he wanted to cry at the end. The boys were halfway through the scene when you were interrupted yet again. This time it wasn't your childish co-worker, but the sound of a phone ringing through the set, "Jesus fucking Christ!" You yelled, "At this rate, we're never going to get this scene done!"

The phone kept ringing and ringing, yet no one had stepped up to answer it. You saw a few crew members check their phones, soon realizing that it wasn't their phone that was ringing. "Will someone please shut that damn thing off?" you snapped harshly as the incessant ringing stopped for a moment before picking back up again.

A nearby sound man named Chris followed the noise, he walked down the line of bags against the wall and stopped in front of yours. Your face grew hot as he pulled your phone out of your bag, the obnoxious ringing louder now. "I believe it was your phone, Y/N," Chris said, waving the device in front of your face.

You groaned, hitting yourself on the forehead with the heel of your hand, "Sorry guys," you apologized to the crew that you just yelled at for no good reason.

You reached your hand out for the phone, looking at the caller ID. You didn't recognize the number, but the it was from Austin, Texas. Your home town.

You don't know why you did it. You figured it was just anther telemarketer, but you slid the green answer button, accepting the call. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Y/F/N Y/L/N?" a masculine sounding voice answered.

Confused, you carried on with the conversation. "This is she," you said. "What can I do for you?"

The man on the other line sighed heavily. "My name is Dr. William Corden from Austin State Hospital," he said. “I’m sorry miss,” your heart raced in your chest; it was never good when someone started a conversation by apologizing, “But we need you to come down here.”

Your voice and your hands were unsteady, and you felt as if you were going to vomit as you tried your best not to cry, “Why would I need to do that?” You feared the worst, and prayed that he didn’t say what you feared.

“We need you to identify the body of Matthew Y/L/N,” he said.

"No," you shook your head vigorously. "No, you're lying, you're-" your vision blurred as the tears threatening to spill over not only poured down your face, but consumed you as your entire world shook and shattered around you as you slid out of the chair and fell to your knees.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?” You heard your name being called repeatedly off to the side. Your entire body wracked with sobs, your hand covering your mouth, as if it would help muffle the sounds. You heard someone call your name again, but you were too far in your own little world to comprehend.

"I'm sorry, miss," the doctor said, "But I'm afraid that you have to be the one to do this. You're his only listed emergency contact."

You sniffed loudly, trying to compose yourself, “O-okay, I work in Vancouver. I’ll be there in a few days,” you replied and pressed the end call button numbly.

“Y/N,” Jensen called your name softly.

You ignored him, trying to control your shaking hands as you found your brother's name in your contacts.

You held the phone to your ear as the monotonous ringing sounded. “C’mon,” you muttered, “Please Matthew.“

Eventually, the ringing stopped. Matthew had never once missed any of your calls. You sobbed loudly, your body wrenching forward with the force of it, and you dialed again. The call went unanswered, eventually going to voicemail. You hung up and threw your phone across set, shattering the device into multiple pieces as it came in contact with the concrete wall. Your breaths came in hiccups, thoughts of your baby brother plaguing your mind. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating you as you remembered practically everything about your brother. The face that he always pulled when he was lying. The times that you and him would drive around in your car with no destination at all. The stupid things he did just to get you to laugh. How he would purposely fall at random times, tell corny jokes that were bound to get you laughing for a good few minutes, and the voices and imitations he would do about annoying people in the stores your mother dragged you to when you were younger.

“No! Please, Matthew!”

“Y/N!” someone yelled out to you. “What happened?” Their voice sounded far away and garbled. It was almost like there were cotton balls stuffed in your ears.

The memories of your younger brother flitted around in your mind, taunting you. You drew your knees up to your chest, burying your face in them. You would never get to hear his laugh, see his smile, see the awkward teenager that still lived inside his body even though he was over thirty. You wouldn’t be able to wrap your arms around his skinny frame when he needed to be held up, or you just needed a hug. You would never get to see your best friend ever again.

You were hyperventilating, and people were calling out to you trying to get through to you, but all you could see was your brother and his smile slowly fading from your mind.

It was getting harder to draw oxygen into your lungs. Harder to expel the carbon dioxide. You couldn't breathe. Your heart rate sped up, your hands finding their way to your hair, tugging harshly, trying to feel anything besides the overwhelming sense of fear and despair.

"Y/N!" One voice pierced through your haze. You felt two strong arms pull you into a warm chest.

You let the person hold you as you moved your hands from your hair to clutch their shirt, probably ruining it with your tears and mascara.

The person's arms wrapped around your entire body, somehow helping you block out the entire world. "Y/N, breathe," the person instructed.

You listened to the person, taking deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. The person started rubbing circles on your back, helping you through the panic attack you were experiencing. Eventually, your body relaxed from the fetal position you were in and your arms wrapped around the person's torso. Your breathing evened out, your heart stopped racing, and you could hear clearly.

"Hey, let it all out, it's okay," the voice you now recognized as Misha said in your ear. "What happened, Y/N?" Misha asked carefully.

You shook your head. If you said it out loud it'd become real. You didn't want it to be real.

"Y/N," Misha said again, "What happened, sweetheart?"

You took a deep breath, your lungs burning with the relief of getting proper oxygen. "Matthew is dead," you choked on a sob.

Misha lifted a hand and ran it down his face. He knew how much you loved your brother. His death would take years for you to get over. "Okay," Misha said in your ear. "Let's get you out of here."

You tried to stand up on your own, but Misha's arms went around your torso and under your legs, lifting you with ease.

"Call Eric, please. Tell him that we need to postpone shooting for a little while," Misha said to Jensen as he carried you off set and to your trailer.

You cried the entire time Misha carried you, tears constantly pouring down your face. You sniffed multiple times, your nose becoming congested, making you feel a headache start to form.

Once Misha got to your trailer, he found it unlocked. He swung the door open with little difficulty, and carried you to your bed. Misha started to walk away, trying to give you your privacy. "Stay, please," your broken and cracked voice instantly had an effect on Misha as he took off his shoes and crawled under the blankets with you.

You burrowed your face into his chest yet again.

You wanted to cry some more, scream at the top of your lungs even, but you had no more tears to shed, and all of your energy was spent. Soon enough, you were snoring lightly as Misha rubbed soothing circles in your back.

Misha was warm and comfortable with you in his arms, and he too fell asleep rather quickly.

Almost an hour later, a sharp knock at the trailer door startled Misha awake. He looked over at you, sighing a breath of relief as he saw that you were still sound asleep.

Misha slid out from under you, but your eyes fluttered slightly like you were about to wake up. Acting quickly, Misha replaced his spot with a pillow. You wrapped your arms around the pillow tightly, falling back to sleep.

Misha padded silently down the length of the trailer, opening the creaky door slowly.

Misha was surprised to see his boss, Eric Kripke standing on the other side.

Misha hoped that he wasn't about to be berated as he stepped outside to talk to the man.

"How's she holding up?" Eric asked, a note of genuine concern in his voice.

"She passed out from crying so much. She's devastated."

Eric sighed, "She doesn't deserve this," he said.

"I couldn't agree with you more," Misha said. "I just want you to know that I'm going to be staying with her for a little while. She's going to need someone to help her get through this."

Eric nodded, "Which brings me to the reason why I'm here. I want you and Y/N to know that you guys can take as long as you need, I understand that this is something that isn't going to get better in a few days. I'm sure the fans and the people at CW will understand too."

Misha let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "Thank you, Eric."

Eric only smiled before turning away and walking towards set, probably to tell the rest of the cast and crew what had happened.

Feeling better about the whole situation, Misha turned on his heels, making his way back into your trailer.

Misha was surprised to find that you weren't in your bed or on the couch, but in the bathroom judging by the light coming from under the bathroom door. He sat on the edge of your bed, patiently waiting for you to return.

He didn't have to wait long; you came out of the bathroom less than two minutes later. You had washed the ruined makeup off your face and threw your hair up. Your eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, your face pale.

You hadn't noticed Misha's presence yet, so Misha greeted you with a soft, "Hey," which scared you slightly.

"Jesus, Mish," you said with your hand over your heart.

"How are you holding up?" Misha asked.

You sniffed and Misha could see the tears forming in your eyes, "I just lost my baby brother," you said. "I'm in pain, Mish."

Misha stood and made his way over to you, "I'm so sorry that this happened to you, Y/N."

Without a second thought, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Misha's abdomen, nuzzling your face in his chest, "I don't know how to do this, Misha," you choked out.

Misha kissed the top of your head and rubbed circles in your back. "You won't be doing it alone Y/N. I'll be with you the entire time," he said.

"They need me to go to Austin and identify his body," you said slowly. The words still didn't sound right to you.

Misha knew that seeing your baby brother's body would nearly kill you. "Then I'm coming with you," he said.

You looked up from his, yet again tear stained, button up shirt, "I can't ask you to do that," you said.

Misha looked at your red-rimmed and puffy eyes, "You didn't ask. I'm offering, and there's no way for you to say no. I'm coming with you whether you like it or not."

You nodded and buried your face in Misha's shirt again, breathing in the scent of him. "Thank you."

You packed a small duffel bag with a few essentials while Misha went to his trailer to pack the things he would need for his impromptu trip.

You had a small apartment in Austin that you lived in whilst on hiatus, so you didn't need to pack very much.

You sat in your trailer after Misha had left, wondering what was going to happen when you got to Austin. You very much didn't want to ID your brother. You didn't want to arrange a funeral that only you would be attending.

Twenty minutes after he had left, Misha came back in to your trailer, lugging a suitcase behind him. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Misha led the way out of the trailer, almost running right into Jensen. "Whoa there," Jensen said, taking a step away from Misha as he burst through the door.

"Shit, sorry man," Misha apologized to his best friend.

"Don't worry about it," Jensen said. "I just wanted to say goodbye to you guys, and to have a safe trip," Jensen said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him, "Thank you, Jay."

Jensen gave you a quick hug in return, "You're welcome, Y/N."

Misha and Jensen said their goodbyes, and the two of you went to the parking lot where Clif was waiting to take the two of you to the airport. The entire ride there was silent with only he radio playing the classic rock station in the background.

You watched the scenery of Vancouver pass by. You didn’t think about anything, you only watched as the houses got closer and closer together, and you passed more cars on the road.

The ride to the airport flew by, and soon enough, you found yourself saying goodbye to Clif.

Once  you and Misha  got your luggage from the back of the car, you went over to the front desk and purchased two tickets on the earliest flight to Austin.

As your luck would have it, the plane was set for boarding in only a matter of 20 minutes, which gave you and Misha time to do anything necessary before boarding the plane.

Twenty minutes later, and you were situated at a window seat with Misha on your left.

You always hated airplanes. They were too big, too loud, and you were afraid that they would fall from the sky at any minute.

After the monstrosity that was take off, your exhaustion hit you again like a freight train.

You yawned and your eyelids became heavy.

Misha glanced over at you as you nodded off to sleep. He pulled you by the shoulder, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck. Misha sat deeper in his seat and rested his head on yours, getting comfortable. He knew the flight was going to be long, so he tried his best to sleep for some of it. Only sleep never came, and he sat staring at the back of the seat in front of him for the entire flight. He was absorbed in his own thoughts. Misha had never met your brother in person, but he knew from the stories you told about him that he was a good person. You always talked about your brother in the most positive way. You had put him on a pedestal high above everyone else. You talked about him like he was your hero, the greatest person on the planet. You loved that boy with all your heart. And now, he was dead, and you were crushed.

Misha looked down at your peacefully sleeping face. You were adorable when you slept. Misha loved you more than you could ever know, but he was too much of a wuss to admit his feelings for you. Something Jensen and Jared greatly enjoyed teasing him about.

For the entire hour plane ride, you slept on Misha's shoulder. Misha move a muscle, knowing that the events of the day had worn you out.

When there was only five minutes before landing, Misha shook your shoulder gently, "Y/N," he said, "We're here."

You looked around, confused to be sitting on a plane. It took a moment for reality to sink in, but once it did, it hit you hard.

"Misha," you whispered, "My brother..." you couldn't even finish your sentence, afraid of the answer.

"It wasn't a dream, Y/N. I'm sorry," he said with an apologetic look.

You swallowed thickly, "That's what I was afraid of."

The plane landed, and Misha lead you off with his hand on the small of your back, guiding you forward.

While you waited at luggage return, you looked around. You hadn't been back in Austin in a long time. You just wished you were coming back under better circumstances.

Once your luggage came around, you picked it up and rushed outside to catch a cab. Luckily, there was one still open, which you and Misha slid into.

"Where to?" the older driver asked.

"Austin State Hospital," you squeaked.

The driver looked at you in the rear view mirror, a look of pity etched across his face. He didn't say anything though. He just turned his attention to the road and pressed his foot to the gas.

It took quite a long time to get to the hospital; there was so much traffic, but once you and Misha stepped out of the cab, and it pulled away from the curb, you wished that you had never arrived.

You looked up at the tall building. Somewhere inside this very building, you thought, my brother's body is sitting.

You looked up at Misha. He was already looking at you, "Are you ready to do this?" he asked.

You shook your head, "I don't want to see my dead brother, Misha."

Misha took your hand. "I will be here the whole time if you need me."

You took a deep breath, and took a wobbly step, your legs felt like jello. You took another step, and then another, right to the nurse's desk at the front.

"What can I do for you?" a male nurse in cartoon character scrubs asked you.

You swallowed back your tears, "I was- um..." you fumbled over your own words. "I was called in to identify a body."

The nurse took on a softer tone. "Who's body are you supposed to be identifying?" he asked.

"Matthew Y/L/N."

The nurse tapped away at the keyboard for a few moments, "Okay, you can just sit over there for a few minutes. Someone from the morgue will be here to guide you."

You and Misha walked over to the chairs the nurse gestured to and took a seat.

Your leg bounced up and down rapidly, your stomach was in knots, and a lump was forming in the back of your throat.

It seemed like only a matter of seconds before a man was making his way over to you, but in reality it was almost fifteen minutes you were waiting. He was dressed in teal scrubs, a metal framed pair of glasses sat perched on his long nose. He looked to be about 50, his hair only slightly gray.

"Are you Y/N Y/L/N?" he asked you,

You nodded and stood with your right hand outstretched, "That would be me," you said as you shook hands with the man.

"Is this your boyfriend?" he asked.

You looked down to your intertwined hands, "Oh, no. He's just... He's here for moral support," you explained.

Misha extended his right hand, "Misha Collins."

The doctor took Misha's hand in a handshake, "I'm Dr. Corden. But you can just call me William," he said.

You nodded slightly.

"If you could follow me," William said, turning on his heel and walking briskly towards a set of double wooded doors.

He led you down a few flights of stairs, multiple hallways, and through a few doors.

You could feel yourself start to tremble, so you fumbled blindly for Misha's hand.

Once you found it, your fingers slipped through his perfectly, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly.

Finally William led you to a metal door with a plaque on it. 'Morgue' it read.

You took a deep breath to steady your pounding heart.

Misha's hand left yours and his arm settled around your waist.

William pushed open the door and led the two of you inside.

The entire room reeked of antiseptic. You could practically see your reflection in the floor, your shoes squeaking on the polished tiles. The silver drawers containing the bodies were just like the ones you've seen in the movies. Except now, they were even more daunting.

William came to a stop in front of one of the drawers. On the front there was a card holder with your brother's name on it.

"I'm going to warn you," William said. "What you're going to see is gruesome. It was a bullet would to the temple. I can assure you, however, that he didn't feel any pain. He chose a good place to shoot. Anywhere else would've caused him tremendous pain."

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Your palms started sweating profusely. You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice.

William took a deep breath and unlocked the door. He pulled out the tray holding the body.

What you saw literally punched the breath from your lungs.

The reality of the situation finally sunk in. Your brother was dead.

His face was pale and slightly blue due to lack of oxygen.

You looked at his face, his arms, his shoulders, and the small part of his chest that was not covered by the white sheet.

"Ma'am," William said. "Is this your brother?"

Tears poured down your cheeks as you nodded.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I need a verbal answer."

You took a deep shuddering breath, "Yes, this is my brother," you sobbed loudly and turned into Misha's side, fisting the cotton shirt he wore.

"Could you give us a minute?" You heard Misha's deep voice rumble.

You didn't see William nod, but you heard the door shut behind him, and you let the sobs consume your body.

Misha wrapped his other arm around you and rested his chin on your head. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he said.

You moved your arms, your hands clawing at his shoulder blades.

Misha felt it was as if you were trying to claw your way inside his body.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself before you turned around to face your brother's body again.

You laid your hand on the tattoo on his clavicle. It was a bird. A dove, to be exact. Matthew had gotten it right after you landed the directing job on Supernatural. "Now my little birdie will always be with me," he said when he revealed it to you.

You looked at your brother's face. The mole that was under his right eye, the acne scars littering his nose and under eyes. You would never get to see your brother ever again, so you were trying your best to memorize every detail you could.

The bullet wound in his head was stitched up, but it still looked gnarly.

You bent down and laid a kiss on his forehead. "Say hi to mom and dad for me, Matt," you whispered to him.

You heard a tiny sniffle. You turned around to see Misha trying to wipe the tears off of his face.

"Thank you for being here," you said to him.

"Anything for you, Y/N," he replied.

After you thanked William for his time, Misha called a cab and helped you back outside.

You were silent the entire way back to your apartment besides giving the cab driver your address.

You lived on the fourteenth floor, so the two of you took an empty elevator up to your floor. You were thankful that no one else entered the elevator. You were a mess and strangers didn't need to see you like this.

You pulled your keys out of your pocket, unlocking your front door and shoving it open.

"Uhm..." you fumbled for the right words, "Kitchen is in there," you said pointing to the doorway leading to the kitchen, "Help yourself to anything I have. It isn't much though because I don't spend much time here. Bathroom is down the hallway, first door on the left. my bedroom is the second door on the right. You can sleep there for tonight. I'll take the couch," you rushed the words out.

Misha listened to every word you said, setting his suitcase on the floor by your dining room table. "I'll take the couch, Y/N," he said. "I'm not going to make you give up your own bed."

You rolled your eyes at his response.

You ran a hand down your face, a thought running across your mind, "I'm going to need to arrange a funeral for him," you said.

Misha took your hand and led you to your couch, "Who should I call?"

Two excruciating hours later, you had made arrangements with the nearest funeral home, cemetery, and the hospital.

"Is there anyone you want to invite?" Misha asked carefully.

You shook your head, "My parents are dead, we don't talk to my family members; they hate us. And Matt didn't really have any friends. He lived alone and was in between jobs."

"So it's just going to be you and me?" He clarified.

"I guess so."

Misha never left your side for the entire week.

He helped you shop for groceries, even paying for them, despite your protests. He held you when you cried. He stayed with you at night, helping to keep the nightmares away. He helped plan the funeral. He was your rock. The only light you were able to see in the dark time.

With every passing day, you fell deeper and deeper in love with him.

You would be sitting on the couch, watching a movie with him, and look up to see him laugh. The way that his eyes crinkled around the edges, and he smiled widely. You'd be laying in your bed with him after you had a nightmare. He'd have his arms around you, holding you and letting you cry. He'd be making dinner for you in a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt. He'd be telling a stupid joke that he found somewhere, hoping to get you to laugh. Every single one of those scenarios was disgustingly domestic, but every single time, you had to restrain yourself from reaching up and kissing him, and thanking him for all he's doing for you.

But then you'd realize that Misha was here because he pitied you. He wasn't looking for a relationship. He was just here to help you through the tough time, then he'd be out of your apartment and back to his in Vancouver.

You had the funeral scheduled for a Sunday. It was the only available time that the funeral and cemetery had. You were dressed in a knee length black dress, a black cardigan on your shoulders, and black ballet flats on your feet. Misha was in a pair of black slacks, a white button down shirt and a black suit jacket. He looked good to say the least.

"Thank you for doing this with me," you said as you made your way downstairs to your car.

"I wasn't going to let you do this alone," Misha said, squeezing your hand.

You gave him a small smile before leading him to the parking garage. You found your car rather quickly and slid in, starting the engine.

Both of you were silent as you made the short journey to the funeral home. You were confused when you pulled into the parking lot. It was almost impossible to find a parking space with how many cars were already parked.

"They did say two, right?" You asked Misha as you finally found a place to park your car.

Misha looked just as confused as you, "Yeah. They did."

You grabbed your phone and took the keys out of the ignition, getting out of the car and making your way to the front doors.

When you opened the door, you almost broke down right then.

Inside of the funeral home, stood every single cast and crew member. Your hand flew to your mouth as you gasped in surprise. "Right, I forgot to tell you that I invited a few of your friends," Misha said in your ear.

Jensen and Jared were standing at the front of the group, matching suits and stances. They wore nearly the same get up at Misha, and stood with their hands in their pockets.

You rushed forward, enveloping both of the giant men in a hug, "Thank you for coming here," you said to them.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Jared said. You knew that he was speaking for everyone in the room when he said that.

You had managed to thank almost everyone for coming, breaking down into tears on more than one occasion because of how supportive the Supernatural family is.

After the viewing, everyone made their way to the cemetery where Matthew's body was laid to rest right next to your parents.

You cried the entire time, tears slowly making their way down your face as they carried Matthew's casket over to the six foot hole, and lowered his body down.

Everyone gave you a hug and whispered words of condolences in your ear before they left. Jensen and Jared promised to check back in on you within the next few days, and you asked them to say hello to their families for you.

After everyone except for Misha had left, you were still seated in the front row, staring at your brother's fresh grave.

Misha made his way over to you, sitting down in the chair next to yours. You quickly turned your head and buried it in Misha's neck. His arm came across your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. "Why did he have to die?" you asked Misha.

In that moment, Misha felt his heart shatter. He brought his other arm around you, practically dragging you into his lap. "I can't give you an answer, honey," Misha said into your hair.

"He wanted to do things in life," you said. "He wanted to be a photographer. Go to Germany and France and Italy. He wanted to go on adventures and live life," you said.

Misha laid a kiss on your head, "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure," Misha said.

You giggled slightly, making Misha's heart soar. "Did you just quote Harry Potter?"

Misha laughed, "It was appropriate."

You lifted your head, "Thank you for being here, Misha."

Misha tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, "There's no place I'd rather be," he said quietly.

Your breath caught in your throat, Misha's face was getting closer, his breath was mingling with yours, a mere millimeter away from your lips he said, "Tell me to stop, and I will."

"Don't," you said, crashing your lips to his.

The past week was nowhere near perfect. You were your lowest point. There were times when you didn't want to keep breathing. But Misha was there for it all. He kept you grounded. He helped you through your loss, and you knew that he was going to be there for you no matter what.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Misha grasps your cold hand.

You nod and grimace as the needle touches your skin.

Three hours later, the intricate pattern is permanently etched into your skin.

“I see you took my advice,” Misha said from behind you. “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure,” he read the words on your collarbone.

The words were surrounded by three small doves. One for your mom, one for your dad, and one for your brother. "Now my little birdie will always be with me," you said to yourself, your finger tracing the black ink.

You looked over your shoulder at Misha, “Thank you,” you whispered. "For being with me and staying by my side."

Misha turned you around and embraced you, being careful of your tattoo.

"You're really strong, you know that?"

You blushed, "Shut up."

Misha pecked your lips and rolled his eyes, "I'm being serious."

You giggled lightly, "Whatever you say, babe."

There would be days that you really missed your brother. Days when you didn't even want to get out of bed because of how guilty you felt that you were still alive, and he wasn't. For those days, Misha was right at your side, reminding you to drink water and eat food. He whispered words of love in your ear, reminding you that you were not alone.

Some of the best days of your life were also the worst because your brother wasn't there to celebrate with you. When you directed your very first movie. When you moved in with Misha and he proposed. When you were married to the love of your life. When you were bringing your son into the world. "Can we name his Matthew?" you asked your husband. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said with a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

You would have good days and bad days. Days where you missed your brother more than anything, and wished to see him one last time. There would be days when you would remember your brother, and days where you would tell stories of him to your kids, a note of pride and happiness in your voice.

You would have your ups in downs, but the one constant thing that you could always count on was Misha's love for you.

That was all you needed.

tags: want to be added or removed? shoot me a message or an ask!

i love hearing what you have to say

@evyiione

[d-s-winchester]

Through the Pages

(gif credit to the creators)

Prompt: He found the journal on the train. Pairing: Mishley (aka Misha x Me, aka Misha x Ashley) Word Count: 2828 (and I’m not even sorry) Warnings: None? A/N: This is my entry for Nicole’s (aka @iwantthedean) two prompt challenge. She asked for two prompts to be sent in and then she would choose one for me to write. This is the prompt she chose for me. I wrote this in like two hours and I’m super proud of it. Italics are journal entries. Hope you guys like it! Anyway, feedback for this is awesome! :)

When it came to taking trips back home during short hiatuses from filming Misha always opted to take the train instead of driving. He found the long train rides relaxing and used most of his time sitting there to think. Sometimes he would read or even go over scripts but mostly he spent the hours lost in thought.

 After his most recent relationship ended he was going over what went wrong in his head as the train pulled out of the station. It was yet another breakup in a long string of failed relationships and he was starting to think that maybe he was the problem, especially because he was never the one to end the relationship. He was almost certain that they had all ended because of his crazy work schedule and even though he knew it shouldn’t bother him, it did.

 As the train rolled down the tracks he’d come to the decision that he would just give up on love for a while and focus on work. It seemed like that was all he ever did anyway so the only thing he would really be missing was someone to come home to after a long day. The longer he thought about it the more he realized that was something pretty big to be willing to give up, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

 The train he was on made a few stops throughout the trip and when the train came to a halt at the first stop something fell from the overhead compartment and landed with a thud at his feet. He looked down to see what it was a noticed a small, leather bound, book. He picked it up and upon further inspection noticed that it was a journal. Stamped on the worn black leather in gold writing, situated in the bottom right hand corner, was a name. Ashley.

 He knew he shouldn’t be reading someone else’s private thoughts but the neat, cursive, writing he saw adorning the pages as he flipped through it piqued his interest. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to read an entry or two, just to see if he could find out more information about the journal’s owner and find a way to get it back to her safely.

 When the passengers at the station had finished boarding the train and it pulled away from the station he opened the front cover and looked at the first page. There wasn’t much there just a small note stating that the journal belonged to her. He was hoping for an address or phone number or something but there wasn’t anything, so he turned the page and found the first entry.  It was dated July 1st.

 I don’t normally do this, write down my thoughts in journals, but mom thought it would be a good way to chronicle this new adventure. Well, that’s what she called it anyway. I don’t know if I would consider moving across the country for work an adventure, although, most people probably would.

 I honestly don’t know what I’m expecting to happen once I finally reach LA, all I do know is that it’s going to be completely different than Jersey. I haven’t even boarded the plane yet and I’m already homesick. I’m literally twenty minutes from home and I miss it already, how is that even possible?

 Well, my plane is about to board. I guess I’ll write more tomorrow? Maybe? I’m not even sure how long I’ll keep this going. It’s not like anyone is going to read it. Oh well, next time I do decide to jot anything down I’ll be in sunny Los Angeles.

 Not finding what he was looking for and also slightly curious about what it was that Ashley did for a living that required her to move across the country he found himself turning the page to the next entry. It was dated a few days later which lead him to believe that she wasn’t one for writing every day like the first entry had stated. He knew he should shut the book and put it down but he found himself compelled to see what she had written on July 5th.

 This was nothing like I anticipated it being. Who was I kidding, though? Sure doing makeup for Broadway shows and the occasional music video or red carpet event in the city was one thing but why on earth did I ever think doing makeup on a movie set was a good idea? I am in no way as talented as the people I’m working with. I’m starting to think coming out here was a mistake.

 Mom convinced me to tough it out though. I know I have to work my way up and there are still things I need to learn but it’s a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. On the bright side, the crazy hours leave me no time for a social life, which is a good thing. The last thing I need right now is for him to be following me around like a lost puppy. You’d thinking moving across the country would cause your ex to give up. Apparently I was wrong about that one too.

 I mean, why did he have to move out here? There’s nothing here for him and to top it all off he had to move in to my building. Is he serious? Maybe he’ll find someone else while he’s out here. Maybe then he can just move on from me. Honestly, I hope that happens because if I could never see his face again that would be fantastic.

 I’m running late for work. Maybe I’ll write again tomorrow. At this point who knows. These entries are probably going to be very sporadic.

 Misha was so engrossed in Ashley’s life as he continued to read through the pages in the journal that he almost missed his stop. He gathered his things quickly, making sure to keep the journal with him, and made it off the train with seconds to spare before it pulled off again. His apartment wasn’t far from the station and as he walked down the sidewalk, pulling his suitcase behind him, he almost couldn’t wait to get home and continue reading through the journal.

 He walked through the front door of his apartment and set the journal down on his kitchen counter before unpacking his things. He put everything it it’s rightful place and then took a shower, needing to get the feeling of traveling off of him. Once he was showered and dressed he ordered some food and grabbed a beer from the fridge before picking up the journal again. Settling himself in one of the chairs on his balcony, he popped open the beer and opened the journal to the next entry dated September 3rd.

 Things have gotten easier. I’m finding that I love going to work and I don’t dread it nearly as much as before. The cast is so fun and the hours are still crazy but a good kind of crazy.

 Collin still hasn’t left me alone. I’m pretty sure he’s using again. Which is definitely not something I need right now. Even though it’s been a few months he hasn’t found anyone new and it’s becoming a problem. I can’t go five minutes being home without him knocking on my door. I’ve been debating a restraining order, but I doubt it will do any good.

 This is the first night off I’ve had in weeks. Normally I would just spend it inside with a giant glass of wine and catch up on the episode I’ve missed of my favorite shows but that’s not the case tonight. Some of the other girls want to go out for drinks and I decided to go. Why not right?

 Who knows, maybe I’ll meet my prince charming or something. Now that would be an interesting turn of events.

 Misha sat there for hours reading through the journal. He found himself wanting to know more about Ashley. Just through the writing on the pages he found her appealing. She was funny and witty and seemed to be driven when it came to her career. It surprised him that he wanted to punch her jerk off of an ex-boyfriend in the face and as he continued to flip through the pages and read about her life he was suddenly hoping to find an address or phone number not only to get the journal back to her but so he could actually meet her.

 Luck was on his side the next day when he picked up the journal at breakfast to read through with his morning cup of tea. The last entry in the book was dated a few days before and in the margin of the page was a phone number.

 If I don’t write my new home number down somewhere I’ll definitely forget to give it to mom. I’m on my way to meet her in San Francisco. She’s on vacation with my aunts and since I had a few days off I decided it would be easier to meet her instead of making them all come down to LA.

 I don’t have enough room in my apartment to fit all three of them and it would just save us all a ton of money and time if I just got a room in the same hotel as them. It was also her suggestion to take the train instead of trying to make the drive.

 She insisted it would be a much more relaxing way to start my mini-vacation and so far she’s right. I think I needed this, some time away from the hustle and bustle of the city. At least Collin has left me alone for now. It’s been almost a week since he showed up at my apartment unannounced and that’s a record for him.

 I saw a girl leaving his apartment the other day. It’s either his dealer or his new girlfriend. I’m hoping it’s the latter, I may hate the asshole but I don’t want him doing drugs and ending up dead. If it is his new girlfriend I’m happy for him.

 The train is pulling into the station. I’ll write more tomorrow. With mom around she’s going to be forcing me to write every day and document our girls weekend. She’s ridiculous.

 All the following pages were blank. Misha knew she didn’t leave it behind on purpose. It must have fallen out of her bag. He glanced at the phone number in the margin again and picked up his phone. He knew her work schedule was crazy and he was hoping she was home from her trip as he dialed. He wanted to get in touch with her and find a way to get her journal back to her.

 He sat there patiently as the phone continued to ring. It was clear she wasn’t home and decided to take a chance and leave a message when the machine picked up. He gave her his name and mentioned that he’d found her journal on the train and was hoping to give it back to her. After leaving his number he hung up the phone and went on with his day, all the while hoping that she would get back to him quickly.

 When a few days went by without any response from her Misha debating calling her again and the only thing that stopped him from doing so was his friends showing up in town unexpectedly. He never minded when they stopped by and it was a welcome distraction from his thoughts, which he noticed were constantly plagued by Ashley. He found himself wondering what she looked like and what she sounded like. In fact, he spent most of his free time thinking about her.

 “Who’s Ashley?” Jensen asked, picking the journal up off the coffee table.

 “Not sure,” Misha shrugged and sipped his beer; “I found it on the train when I was on my way home. I called the number in it but she hasn’t called me back.”

 “Did you read it?” Jared asked, taking the book from Jensen.

 “Yeah, but only to find out a way to get it back to her.”

 Jared and Jensen exchanged looks, not convinced that Misha was telling the entire truth, but they let the subject drop. For most of the night the journal was forgotten until a few hours later when the phone rang. When Misha saw the number on his screen he suddenly found himself unbelievably nervous.

 “Hello?”

 “Hi, is this Misha?”

 She sounded different than he expected her too. Although now that he thought about it he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting.

 “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

 “Thank God. I thought I dialed wrong,” she laughed, “you left me a message saying you found my journal?”

 “Yeah, I found it on the train.”

 “I knew I left it there. Are you in LA? Would you be able to meet up tomorrow? I kind of need that back.”

 “Yeah, absolutely. Just name a time and place.”

 They decided on a local café at noon and after she thanked him profusely for keeping the journal safe for her they disconnected the call.

 “That was her, wasn���t it?” Jared asked and Misha nodded.

 “Why do you look so nervous?” Jensen chuckled.

“I’m not nervous,” Misha said, grabbing another beer from the fridge, “why would I be nervous?”

 Jared and Jensen let the subject drop once again and they continued on with their night. They left sometime after midnight and Misha went straight to bed. The next morning he actually was nervous. After showering he spent entirely too much time deciding what to wear and he was almost late to meet Ashley because of it.

 He walked into the café with five minutes to spare. He ordered something to drink and sat down at one of the tables, placing the journal in front of him where she could easily see it, and waited. It was just after twelve when a petite brunette approached his table.

 “Misha?” she asked, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

 She was shorter than he thought she’d be. Just by looking at her standing there he knew he had almost a foot on her. He noticed that her makeup was done perfectly as was her hair but he had a feeling that she didn’t go all out like that all the time. In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting her to be so attractive.

 He nodded. “Ashley, I’m assuming?”

 “That’s me,” she smiled and sat down at the table across from him, “I really can’t thank you enough for not just leaving my journal on the train.”

 “Don’t mention it.”

 “Really, what can I do to repay you?”

 He thought about it for a second. He had every intention of telling her he didn’t want anything in return but then a thought occurred to him. He wanted to get to know her, really know her, and not just know what she wrote down on those pages. He knew what he was going to say next could end in disaster but he decided to give it a shot.

 “You don’t have to repay me for anything, really,” he smiled and cleared his throat, “but would you like to have dinner with me?”

 She looked a little taken aback at first and Misha thought he might have over stepped his boundaries, until she smiled.

 “Sure,” she nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “my schedule is insane, but I’m sure you figured that out since you found my journal.”

 Misha looked at her, shocked, and tried not to let his face show that he was in fact guilty of reading it.

 “It’s ok if you read it,” she laughed, noticing the look of panic on his face, “I would have done the same thing. I’m free tonight for dinner if that works for you.”

 Misha nodded and Ashley pulled a pen out of her purse before grabbing his hand. She wrote down a number and an address before capping the pen and putting it back in her purse.

 “That’s my cell,” she explained, “I’m much easier to reach there. And that’s my address. Pick me up at seven.”

 Before Misha had a chance to respond she was picking the journal up off the table and making her way out of the café. He stared at the writing on his palm, the same writing he’d gotten so accustomed to over the last few days, and smiled. He actually had a chance to get to know the girl behind the pages and he was more than thrilled. Maybe the date that night would be able to change his mind about giving up on love and if it did he had a train ride and a journal to thank for it.