#CROWLEY LOOKS SO GODDAMN FUCKING HANDSOM

[sundeum]

I'M NOT NORMAL I'M NOT NORMAL I'M NOT NORMAL I'M NOT NORMAL I'M NOT NORMAL I'M NOT NORMAL I'M CRAZY I'M CRAZY I'M CRAZY I'M CRAZY I'M CRAZY I'M CRAZY I'M SICK WHAT THE FUCK

[stusbunker]

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Epilogue

A Supernatural Denny AU Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other characters: Pamela, Jesse, Caesar, Crowley, Balthazar, Meg, Jo, Lee, Lisa, Sam (mentioned), Drea OFC, Robbie and SJ OMCs, Deanna OFC

Word count: 2340

A/N: Enjoy! xoxo Stu

Brunch

    The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. The remnants of the early snowstorm had left soggy lawns and damp sidewalks. Benny pulled up to the restaurant and parked on the curb, smiling over at Dean. He waited patiently. 

    “You sure this is a good idea?” Dean squinted in the midday light.

    “Been dying to meet ya. Figured it’s only fair, I met your folks, you can meet my people too,” Benny said simply. “But I’m not gonna force ya.”

    “I just, I’m not used to being out in public. In numbers,” Dean sputtered.

    Benny raised a single eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess this is your best shot to try it out, dontcha think?”

    “What if they don’t like me? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your friends,” Dean explained the root of the problem.

    “I like you, they will too. Just relax, be your charming self and if you don’t know what to say, you can just keep eating.” Benny put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing just so.

    Dean growled out a sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

    Like that could make an uncomfortable situation worth it. Benny smirked at Dean’s logic, waiting for his face to soften from grouchy to amiable. Once Dean relaxed, Benny kissed him, just long enough to keep him flustered and climbed out of the truck.

     They approached a large round table midway along the heated patio, where four people were already seated.

A raven haired woman waved them over. “My good Benjamin, did you bring a straight boy to brunch, just for me?!”

“Pammy!” Benny leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya darlin', but ain't nothing straight about this'n."

 “Hey, now! Can’t a guy speak for himself?!” Dean snipped defensively as he sat in the spot beside Benny.

Everyone laughed. Pamela raised her eyebrow in question.

Dean licked his lips and put on the smolder, “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m taken.”

“Wait, this--- THIS is your sassy mechanic?!” Crowley leaned forward, extending his hand, his English brogue gruff and pandering. “Nice to finally meet you, handsome.”

       Dean gave Benny the side eye and all Benny could do was shrug coyly. Dean shook the man’s hand, trying not to show his discomfort from his lingering glances. Benny made the rest of the introductions, Jesse and Cesar were also a couple, but had been married for a few years. They seemed to be waiting on someone before they ordered. The group sipped their cocktails with a fresh pitcher of Bloody Mary in the center of the kitsch tablecloth.

Benny poured Dean a generous portion of the red drink and slipped seamlessly into the conversation. Dean sucked the palmeto out of an olive and listened casually, not too sure where he fit in this part of Benny’s life.

Twenty minutes later a rail of a guy swaggered in, with oversized aviators and a black linen suit. 

“Oh, thank Christ for booze,” he huffed, grabbing Dean’s glass without even acknowledging Dean was there. The blonde chugged the entire drink, before breaking for air. “I just had the worst hook up of my life, no, well, the year at least. He took me to his mother’s house. She tried to make me breakfast. I was simply mortified. I just left. What could I even do at that point, honestly?!”

Now that his audience had his attention back, the man gawked at Dean. He even pulled down his sunglasses for a better look. “Now who the fuck is this? Is it show and tell?! Because I am not prepared in the least.” 

He casually patted at his hair and eyed Dean from top to toe. Benny chuckled, but Pamela was the one to make the introduction.

“Balthazar, our regular hangover diva. Meet Dean, Benny’s boy toy,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” Balthazar lamented, looking from Pam to Benny to Crowley and finally at Dean. “Fuck you southerners and your goddamn accents--- always gets the hotter ones,” he muttered defensively as he threw himself against the armrest of the chair, crossing his legs.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Cesar ended the dramatics concisely. “Maybe somebody should find our waitress?”

Dean looked at Benny confused. “We’re always here for a while, she doesn’t bother us until we’re actually ready to order. Tend to annoy her otherwise.”

Crowley volunteered as he needed to head to the men’s room anyhow. Five minutes later he arrived with an obviously surly waitress.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Meg’s smokey voice broke through Balthazar's latest story. She centered herself between Cesar and Crowley’s seat and cocked her hip, tongue firmly in cheek as she waited for Dean to take her bait.

“Heya, Meg,” Dean sighed. The inevitable caught up with him after all, they just had to run into someone he knew.

“Oh, this has got to be good, now, pray tell, how do you two know each other?” Crowley probed.

“Oh me and this schmuck? We go way back.” Meg smiled without teeth.

“Is that so?” Benny tested the waters.

“Not like that,” Dean grumbled. “Meg, here, took my little brother Sammy out for a few spins, back in the day. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It was high school.” Meg let her indifference coat her entire being until curiosity sparked to life in her eyes. “So what are you doing with this crowd, or did they bring you in just to add a new level of torture to my Sunday shifts?”

“Well---.” Dean swallowed, looked at Benny for clarification and got mild amusement instead. “I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Joy,” Meg bristled before taking their orders, knowing most of the table’s usuals before they even opened their mouths.

News

    Benny rushed into the customer entrance of the shop, the wet October air had kept the service doors closed for the past week. He leaned against the counter, decorated in local business cards and charity fliers, anxiously waiting for someone to talk to. His chest was so tight he worried he’d pass out from excitement. He just needed to see him was all, once he saw Dean it would be easier.

    Lee sauntered in from the service bay, they both had drawn the short straw it seemed.

    “Hey, mind getting Dean for me? It’s important,” Benny asked, unable to keep the burning smile from his face.

    Lee eyed him curiously but nodded and headed back the way he came. He didn’t shout, not really. “Dean-o, your boyfriend’s looking for ya.”

    Dean unfurled himself from the engine he had been tinkering with all morning and glared at Lee.

    “Husband, whatever, seems urgent,” Lee acquiesced. Dean nodded and wiped his hands off on the closest rag. Dean pulled his wedding band out from his undershirt out of habit more than anything. He couldn’t wear it on his hands at work, but he didn’t want to lose it so Benny made him a braided leather necklace once they got back from their honeymoon.

    Dean ignored formality and walked straight into the waiting room. Once he saw the look on Benny’s face he knew what was happening.

    “It’s go time?” He asked, shock and exhilaration sparking his instinct to move.

    “It’s go time, cher. Lisa called me on the way to the hospital. Sam’s driving her from the office. Her water broke about 9:30,” Benny explained, the nervousness slipping into his cadence.

    “Alright, I’m gonna clean up, you want me to drive?” Dean asked, gauging the unsteadiness in his usually stalwart husband.

    “That’s probably best, yeah,” Benny agreed. 

Dean leaned in and kissed him firmly, resting his forehead against Benny’s temple before pulling away.“Hey, we got this, alright? That kid is gonna be so spoiled having you for a daddy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking, gonna have you wrapped around their finger before they can even crawl,” Benny teased back, inhaling with contentment.

Dean headed back to warn his coworkers that he had a baby on the way and to clean up enough to be allowed into a hospital. Jo followed Dean out into the lobby. Quickly, she hugged Benny before demanding regular updates to the group chat.

“Alright, get out of here, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the week. Let me know and I will put in paternity leave as soon as everyone’s home, okay?” Jo got all professional about things as Dean left.

“Oh, right, shit. Well, I guess I’ll let you know when you can come over and---,” Dean started before Benny pulled him by his elbow.

“We should be goin’” Benny urged. Dean looked at Jo one last time and nodded.

This was it.

   Dean held Benny’s hand the whole way to the hospital, their grip tightening every so often, grounding them both. Because Lisa was a friend and the surrogacy was looser than most circumstances, both Benny and Dean were allowed in the delivery room. They were the best cheerleaders a birth mom could have ever asked for. Seven hours later, one chubby baby girl entered the world screaming to high heaven and splitting her fathers’ hearts open for an entirely new level of love and devotion.

    Mary Andrea Lafitte-Winchester, or Drea for short, was a happy and healthy little girl. And an overprotective big sister to her twin brothers, Samuel Joel and Robert Fergus, who came along four years later.

Sunset

    They’re old men now. Dean is five years retired, while Benny works the register for their sons on the weekends. Both of their hands aren’t what they used to be. But they keep busy. Drea is bringing the kids round tomorrow, it’s the start of summer break and Dean’s been dying to teach her kids to fish.  

    Dean went grey after he turned fifty, but it hasn’t changed since, in color at least. Benny’s beard is as white as Santa Claus and he hides what little hair he has left under a cap. They’re both a little rounder, a little lower to the ground, but they got that way together and neither of them notice it on one another anyhow.

       Every year they visit Jesse and Cesar in Arizona for New Year's. Though they fly more than make the drive these days.

   ��    They still take turns cooking the meals and the movie nights from their early days resurfaced into movie afternoons when their kids moved out. Dean can’t hear for shit anymore and, naturally, Benny makes fun of him for it. But Dean’ll put in his hearing aids if company is over.

 It’s early evening in the beginning of June and the bugs are orchestrating quite the soundtrack to their time on the porch. Dean pours his whiskey. Benny’s already sipping his sweet tea, his medications don’t let him drink much anymore. Jo’ll come by on Sunday, along with SJ and his wife and Robbie. Sam and Jess usually make it to every other dinner or so.

    “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” Dean teases, once a flirt always a flirt.

    “Not at all, cher. It’s a helluva view,” Benny glances at his husband, watches Dean take in the peaches and pinks kissing the slopes of the fields. They sit like that for an hour, until the dark is too thick to see through. Groaning and creaking they stand in turn. Dean keeps his hand on the small of Benny’s back as they head inside for the night, steadying them both.

    They moved their bedroom to the ground floor after Dean’s heart attack, a lot less worry about making it upstairs that way. After being married forty years, Dean still makes jokes about it being Benny’s place. But it’s always been his home. He kisses Benny goodnight, makes it a little saucy because he can. He’s the first to close his eyes.

    In the morning Benny makes waffles and tofu bacon. Dean pretends he can’t taste the difference, fooling no one. They make out while the sink fills for the dishes, too few to run the machine. Benny gets handsy first and Dean tries to squirm into the upperhand. They’re interrupted by a car pulling in the drive.

    “Busted,” Benny whispers.

    “You’re the one who wanted kids,” Dean grumbles against Benny’s neck, an old, unfounded retort.

    “Yeah, but the grandkids---,” Benny starts.

    “Were made to be spoiled,” Dean finishes and kisses Benny once more. Drea’s yelling at her kids to slow down before her dads even make it outside to greet them. Her eyes, blue as her daddy’s are tired. They don’t envy her the school aged years. Dean bends down as baby Deanna, who’s nearly four, comes crashing into his arms. He pulls her up and holds her tight, reminds him of her mama and he can’t help but get a little weepy over the passing years. 

    “It’s so good to see you, baby girl.” Benny pulls his daughter into a hug before helping with their bags. The older kids don’t come inside until it’s time to eat, climbing through the barn and splashing in the creek until they’re soaked. But Deanna sticks with her Grandpa on a simple stroll, while Pappy and Mama catch up.

    Dean still has the jacket he bought from Benny, though the pants are long gone. He’ll leave it to Robbie when the time comes, when his son finds himself a stud that’s worth settling down for. If that’s what he chooses. 

    For now, Dean lets his granddaughter pick up every rock and stick she finds and examines it to the nth degree. He explains what he can about each one. She’s very curious. He even lets her wipe her chubby little hands on his pants’ leg when she needs to. They get back to the house just in time to start dinner, but before they go inside Dean takes a mental picture of his husband on the porch, their daughter beside him and his granddaughter running past him.

   It is a helluva view after all. 

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[animeangelriku]

Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down Swinging

[Sugar Daddy Aziraphale receives a surprise from his Sugar Baby Crowley, a surprise he very much likes.]

[Also read on AO3!]

Aziraphale takes a sip from his scotch and lets out a long, relaxed breath.

Spring is finally starting to give way to summer. It gives him the chance to take advantage of the chairs by the pool, where he can sit down and read to the quietness of his private property. He doesn’t usually care much for the pool or its nearby chairs, but Crowley mentioned an interest in swimming, and Aziraphale hopes that being here rather than indoors will entice him to go for a swim… or at the very least sit with Aziraphale with as little clothing as possible.

His darling boy has such bad heat tolerance, poor thing. Even this weather might prove too hot for him.

Aziraphale takes out his pocket watch and frowns slightly. Speaking of Crowley, he should have been home by now. Aziraphale isn’t sure where he went, as Crowley just told him he was ‘going out,’ but he usually doesn’t take so long. Could something have happened to him? Surely Crowley would’ve called him if that were the case—

He shakes his head to himself. Crowley owes him no explanation for anything: not for where he goes or what he does or what time he comes back. That has always been their Arrangement, and it has worked wonderfully so far, and Aziraphale will not be the one to make a mess of it.

He places his glass of scotch on the table beside him and gently turns the page of the book on his lap.

Just then, he hears, distantly, Crowley’s car pulling into the property.

Aziraphale feels his heartbeat increasing, and he wills himself to calm down. He’s not a schoolboy with a bloody crush on the pretty boy in his class, he’s an adult man in a mutually beneficent sexual relationship with the most brilliant, cunning, stunning, beautiful man he has ever met.

Another shake of his head.

You’re an adult man, Aziraphale reminds himself. An old man, to be precise. He knows better than this.

With great effort, he forces his attention back to his worn copy of Four Quartets and waits for Crowley to call for him—hoping he will, really.

It’s eight minutes and thirty-three seconds (not that Aziraphale kept count) before he hears Crowley’s voice behind him.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Oh!” The next words sound closer, like Crowley has stepped outside. “There you are! Getting some fresh air?”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale says. “How were your errands?”

“Productive,” Crowley answers, and Aziraphale smiles to himself, thankful that Crowley can’t see it. “Actually, are you busy?”

Aziraphale lifts his gaze from his book. He’s never too busy for Crowley, never, much less when his tone has begun shifting into a coy sultriness that would be impossible for anyone else to pull off. For Crowley, it comes like second nature.

“No, not at all,” Aziraphale replies, gently closing Four Quartets and setting it down next to his glass, ready to stand up from his seat. Crowley has presented him with an invitation, and Aziraphale will always accept it.

He has barely clasped the arms of his chair when Crowley says, firm and commandingly, “Stay right there.”

A shiver runs down Aziraphale’s spine. He sits back down and folds his hands on his lap.

Crowley is not often in charge. It’s not that he doesn’t like it, and it’s not that Aziraphale doesn’t like it—he has simply noticed that his darling boy prefers to be taken care of, looked after, even though he will never admit it out loud. He will say that he wants to be bent, broken, fucked, claimed, and Aziraphale will happily oblige, but he has also learned to read between the lines, both the spoken ones and the ones on Crowley’s handsome face. He knows when Crowley would rather they take it slow despite his pleas for Aziraphale to “just get on with it,” and he’s not above holding him down to give him exactly what he needs.

But Crowley has set the scene. It’s only fair Aziraphale lets it unfold.

“I’ve got a surprise for youuuuu,” Crowley singsongs, the pitch of his voice slightly lower than usual.

“Is that so?” Aziraphale asks, and he really shouldn’t be surprised at how ragged he sounds already. It’s ridiculous, truly, what Crowley’s voice does to him on a regular basis, let alone when he plays at seducing Aziraphale.

“Mh-hm,” Crowley hums. “Will you close your eyes for me?”

I’ll do anything you want me to do, Aziraphale thinks and closes his eyes, biting his tongue lest the traitorous words rip their way out of his throat. Perhaps he’ll speak them later, when he has Crowley begging and shaking apart on his hands.

Good lord, heat is beginning to build in his pelvis, in his belly, his fingers curling on his lap, his mind racing with images of what this surprise of Crowley’s might be. A new outfit? Aziraphale loves watching Crowley try on clothes, especially if his dear boy decides to give him a show and parade himself as if he were on his very own runway.

Oh, he can perfectly picture Crowley twirling in front of him before he loses his patience and pulls him forward, desperate to have him gasping and writhing on his lap, his open mouth hot and damp as he begs for Aziraphale’s touch.

Aziraphale swallows a moan and presses the heel of his hand to his cock through his trousers.

Breathe, he orders his terribly weak body. Calm down, for Heaven’s sake.

It’s frankly outrageous how much he desires Crowley, how much he craves him, all the time. He hasn’t even seen him yet!

His eyes still closed, Aziraphale inhales deeply. Now that he has pulled his thoughts to the present, he can hear the soft click-clack, click-clack, click-clack of Crowley’s footsteps, and saliva pools embarrassingly in his mouth. Crowley is so frustratingly breathtaking no matter what, but he has a way of wearing heels like they were made for him, like they were designed and tailored just for him.

The click-clack grows louder until it comes to a halt and Aziraphale can almost feel Crowley standing in front of him. His skin itches with the anticipation.

“Right,” Crowley says, and… That’s odd. He sounds nervous. Aziraphale’s first instinct is to reassure him, which is impossible given his current situation. He can’t think of anything that would make Crowley sound even remotely close to nervous. What could possibly be the matter? “You can open your eyes… now.”

Aziraphale does as he’s told, and he subsequently feels like the breath has been knocked out of him. 

“Oh,” he exhales. “Oh, my dear.”

Crowley is wearing heels indeed, a pair of black stiletto pumps that accentuate his slender legs. His chest is covered by thin, black elastic straps forming a sort of bodice around his gorgeously pink nipples and upper torso, dropping into a mesh gown that flows all the way down to his heels, with a slit at each side of his adorable bellybutton to let him show off his mouthwatering thighs, the long expanse of his lithe calves. Underneath the gown and harness, he’s wearing lace knickers that are not even knickers, they’re just a black band with a strip of lace around it and a piece of mesh fabric covering Crowley’s half-hard cock, decorating it with two small pink bows, like a present.

And sweet God Almighty, what a present it is.

Crowley… He has never worn lingerie around Aziraphale, for Aziraphale, but Lord Above, he had nothing to be nervous about. As if Aziraphale would ever judge him or express distaste for something Crowley acquired for him, as if he would ever judge him for anything he did or wore or fancied.

Crowley doesn’t seem to know what to do with his arms, having no pockets where he can hide his hands, so he ultimately raises them above his head and bends them back, letting Aziraphale see all of him.

“So?” he asks, the seductiveness in his voice betrayed by the nervousness still lingering there.

As if Aziraphale would ever not want him.

“Oh, Crowley,” he breathes. “You are stunning.”

He always is, a masterpiece of flesh and muscle and bone, but now he looks like he has manifested himself directly out of Aziraphale’s dirtiest, most indulgent fantasies, displaying himself like a goddamn feast to be praised and subsequently devoured.

Crowley’s golden eyes, free of the sunglasses he often wears everywhere but here, darken with hunger, the loveliest, softest of blushes pinkening his cheeks.

“Yeah?” he asks, almost timidly.

“Yes,” Aziraphale says, reaching for his glass of scotch, because his throat is parched. “Won’t you turn around for me, my boy?”

This Crowley excels at. Having regained his ego, he stands tall and twirls slowly, a peacock showing off his plumage, his heels click-clacking against the tiled floor with every step he takes. Each peek at his bare skin through the slits of his gown makes Aziraphale take another sip from his scotch. Good. He won’t even have to waste time undressing Crowley.  

“Simply magnificent,” Aziraphale adds as he watches Crowley turn his back to him and sway his hips, his pert, biteable arse bare beneath the so-called knickers and gown. How he wants to press his fingers to the flesh, knead and tug and pull at it until he has left bruises.

“You think so?” Crowley asks, the question dripping with faux innocence.

“Positively sinful,” Aziraphale snarls, fingers tightening around his glass.  

Crowley looks at him over his shoulder, and the way he bats his eyelashes, beckoning, is almost enough to force Aziraphale out of his seat and over to him. But he waits. Crowley told him to stay put, and unless he’s commanded otherwise, Aziraphale intends to do just that.

“D’you really like it?” his darling questions, barely louder than a whisper, lowering his eyes before he glances up at Aziraphale again. As he turns back to face him, his cock strains against the mesh fabric covering it, and Aziraphale wants nothing more than to have it in his mouth.

Well. Just because he was told to stay put doesn’t mean he can’t do a bit of beckoning of his own.

“Why don’t you come here,” Aziraphale murmurs, grabbing his book from the small, round table beside him and placing it and his glass on the floor next to his chair, “and let me show you how much I do?”

It only takes Crowley a few steps forward to be within Aziraphale’s reach, and as soon as he is, Aziraphale grabs him by the hips and hauls him up onto the table, sitting him right on the edge. He knows Crowley likes being manhandled every now and then, evident even now by his parted lips and lust-filled gaze, and while Aziraphale enjoys teasing him about it when the mood strikes him, this is not the time for it.

“Azirapha—” Crowley begins, only for Aziraphale’s name to turn into a scream when he leans down, pushes the front of the mesh gown aside, and mouths at the line of Crowley’s cock. “Oh, fuck.”

Crowley falls back against the table, arms thrown over his head, and Aziraphale takes this opportunity to run his hands over the skin of Crowley’s thighs, his fingernails scratching the thin red hair as his teeth graze the mesh fabric of the lace knickers.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Aziraphale whispers, his breath hot and damp, and he can’t help smiling at the small shiver that courses through Crowley’s body. “You should not have been so worried.”

“W-worried?” Crowley repeats wobblily. “I—I wasn’t—”

“I always find you extremely delectable, darling,” Aziraphale goes on, because he needs to reassure Crowley that nothing could ever change how he feels about him, how much he hungers for him, and he refuses to let Crowley believe otherwise. “And how could I not find you even more so now, when you went and prepared this surprise just for me?”

He hears Crowley stuttering through a response, but he’s grown quite desperate, and he wants to taste the gorgeously red, thick cock in front of him right now, please. So Aziraphale grabs the elastic band around Crowley’s hipbones between his thumbs and slides the lace knickers down his legs.

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley whimpers as Aziraphale gently places his legs over his shoulders, his back arching off the table. He hears Crowley’s stilettos clacking to the floor, and his heels dig into Aziraphale’s back. “Aziraphale, fuck, please, please…”

Really, how can Aziraphale resist such lovely begging, especially coming from his darling boy’s sweet, sweet mouth?

Taking Crowley down to the root is no hardship. Aziraphale loves pleasuring Crowley any and every way, but he rather fancies feeling the weight of Crowley’s prick on his tongue, feeling the head graze the back of his throat, pushing his nose against Crowley’s pubes and inhaling the scent of him, of his sweat, and he hollows his cheeks and swallows around him and sears every single sound Crowley makes into his memory.

“A-Angel,” Crowley gasps, one of his hands curling in Aziraphale’s hair. That’s quite all right—Aziraphale has no qualms about having his hair tugged, and if the sting on his scalp brings a moan out of him and helps him bring Crowley closer to his release, then all the better.

He can tell Crowley won’t last much longer if the way his cock twitches and spills beads of precome on Aziraphale’s tongue is anything to go by, and he’s about to redouble his efforts when Crowley thrusts his hips up into his mouth.

Aziraphale pets his thighs. His poor dear gets so desperate when he’s this close, but Aziraphale will get him there, and he translates this message by skimming just the tips of his fingers over the skin of Crowley’s hipbones. They have gotten quite efficient at communicating without words, which serves them well in this kind of situation, where Aziraphale is otherwise occupied and Crowley cannot muster anything other than random combinations of letters Aziraphale shouldn’t find as endearing as he does.

But then Crowley thrusts his hips up again, this time harder, and Aziraphale has known him long enough to recognise when he’s being challenged.

Oh, naughty boy.  

Aziraphale pulls away, letting his lips suck around the head of Crowley’s cock before he regretfully releases him.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley groans, his sinuous hips continuing to thrust up into the air, his flushed prick resting long and curved against his belly.

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale says sternly, and relishes Crowley’s whine and the fast, heavy rise of his chest. He wraps his hands around Crowley’s waist and presses his thumbs into the dips of his hips over the mesh gown, almost hard enough to feel the bone beneath the flesh, and fuck if Crowley’s hiss of both pain and arousal is not the sexiest thing he has ever heard. “Do be still for me, please.”

Aziraphale wraps his lips around Crowley’s gorgeous cock and slowly bobs his head, letting his tongue press against the veins on the underside, swallowing around him, hollowing his cheeks as he makes slurping sounds, perfectly aware they drive Crowley nearly to blindness with desire. He pulls away just for a second to lick at the slit on the head of Crowley’s cock as if it were a lolly, and he pushes Crowley’s hips down with his thumbs when he feels him trying to thrust up into him.

“Fuck, angel, you’re—ah!—y-you’re killing me!” Crowley moans, using his grip on Aziraphale’s hair to push Aziraphale further down until he’s almost gagging. His own cock twitches in his trousers, painfully hard and smearing the fabric, but he focuses on Crowley, on his beautiful boy, who is almost there, so close to the edge, and Aziraphale so desperately wants him to come down his throat that he tightens his mouth around Crowley’s prick and sucks like he was born for it.

“Oh!” Crowley screams, and his fingernails scratch Aziraphale’s scalp, and he groans delightedly. “Fuck, f-fuck, FUCK, Aziraphale!”

And then Crowley’s coming, spilling in his mouth, and Aziraphale swallows him down, sucking his cock until Crowley mewls, pushing at his shoulders as he trembles with the aftershocks.

When he finally straightens, gently lowers Crowley’s legs from his shoulders, and glances at the stunning man beneath him, the breath is nearly knocked out of him again.

Crowley’s exposed skin, the bits of flesh that are not covered by his harness, is flushed and hot to the touch, dewy with sweat. His mouth is parted as he struggles to even his breathing with big, damp puffs of air. His gown flows beneath him and down to the ground. His hands slowly loosen their grip on Aziraphale’s hair, moving instead to wrap around his shoulders and pull him down for an open, filthy kiss.

Kissing is something Aziraphale has always been a big fan of, but he has never liked it as much as he does when it’s Crowley he’s kissing. Their mouths fit perfectly together. Crowley often pouts his lower lip so that Aziraphale can suck it between his, swiping his tongue across it until Crowley tugs it into his own mouth and nips at it, all the while making wet little noises that go straight to Aziraphale’s prick.

Still holding Crowley by the hips, Aziraphale pulls him up and sits back down on his chair with Crowley’s legs straddling him, the front of the gown pushed to the side showing off his cock, slick with Aziraphale’s spit.

“My dear,” he begins, tucking one stray lock of hair behind Crowley’s ear, but then Crowley grips his shoulders and grinds down against him, forcing a choked-off moan out of Aziraphale. His neglected cock makes itself known again, straining against his trousers, and Crowley smirks wickedly, an enticing gesture that quirks up the corner of his equally enticing mouth.

“Can’t have all the fun myself,” Crowley pants, breathless. The movement of his hips is serpentine, a dancing sin, the artwork of a tempter, and Aziraphale has fallen like a shooting star, fast and headfirst, into the jaws of the snake, and he would not have it any other way.

He grabs Crowley’s pretty arse, kneads the flesh on his hands, sinks his fingers on his cheeks and pulls at them to hear Crowley moan shamelessly, grinding down harder against him.  

“Aziraphale,” he whines, and his cock is starting to harden again, and Aziraphale’s mouth waters.

“You’re so beautiful, darling,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to Crowley’s pulse point to suck a bruise onto his neck. It is such a contrast to feel both Crowley’s arse on his hands and the mesh fabric of his gown brushing against the backs of his palms, but it is a contrast that only heightens Aziraphale’s arousal.

Crowley whimpers, a high-pitched sound that makes Aziraphale shiver. He realises, suddenly, that he has not paid attention to Crowley’s chest, to his cute nipples, and that will simply not stand. He does so love to lave them with his tongue, pinch them between his fingers, tug on them with his teeth until they are hard and flushed.

Reluctant to let go of his arse, Aziraphale uses one hand to scratch lightly over Crowley’s right nipple and wraps his lips around the left one. Crowley’s response is immediately, canting his hips upwards with such strength, Aziraphale is tempted to hold him down again, to keep him still while he thrusts up against him, giving his cock the friction he desperately craves. Oh, but it’s not Crowley’s fault, and Aziraphale knows it. His darling has such deliciously sensitive nipples, he knew what he was in for.

“Hngh, ang—Aziraph—ngh!”

“Hush, darling,” Aziraphale murmurs, trailing kisses from one nipple to the other and then to his breastbones, his collarbones, every bit of skin that is exposed and bared for Aziraphale’s mouth to mark.

Crowley pushes back against Aziraphale’s hand on his arse, and one of his fingers slips and presses slightly, just barely, really, completely unintentionally, to his slick rim.

Crowley lets out a wounded noise.

It can’t be. It can’t possibly… But it is…

Aziraphale pulls back from Crowley’s chest and stares at him. His dear boy’s eyes are closed, his brow furrowed in ecstasy, one of his sharp canines fiercely biting down on his lower lip. Could it be…?

He grabs Crowley’s arse with both hands once more. His finger pushes tenderly between the globes of his cheeks and finds his hole, tracing the outside of it before pressing so easily, so smoothly inside.  

Aziraphale gasps, the sound deafened by Crowley’s broken moan.

“Oh, my dear,” he breathes as Crowley pushes back against his finger, trying to pull him deeper, sucking him greedily. “Is this part of your surprise?” he wonders, and he asks the question with his teeth grazing the sharp line of Crowley’s jaw. “Were you hoping for this?”

“Fuck yes,” Crowley growls, not even pretending to deny it. He’s flushed all over, the exposed patches of skin painted pink and bearing the purpling, blossoming marks left by Aziraphale’s mouth. His nails dig into Aziraphale’s shoulders, and he hisses with the pleasure of it. “Wh-why else would I—ah—w-wear this if I wasn’t gonna s-show it to—ngh, fuck, fuck, angel—”

Aziraphale closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Crowley’s chest. He glows at the words, at the thought of Crowley buying and wearing this for him, at the mental image of Crowley preparing himself before changing into his pretty lingerie. Did he tease himself open on the bed they share, his legs spread wide, feet against the mattress, moaning Aziraphale’s name? Did he stroke himself, picturing Aziraphale above him muttering words of praise and encouragement? Was he on his knees, perhaps, wishing Aziraphale were pressing him down to the bed, draped over him as he thrust into him?

Crowley shoves his hips forward, and Aziraphale is so close himself, half a second away from coming in his trousers. He slips a second and then a third finger inside Crowley, scissoring him open, curling the tip of one of them until Crowley keens, his back arching beautifully.

“Angel,” he whines, sweat dampening his hair and beading down his temples. Aziraphale wants to lick it off him. “Angel, fuck me, please fuck me…” Crowley’s hands move down to Aziraphale’s trousers, nimble fingers undoing the button and zip to pull out his cock soaked in precome, and Aziraphale swears. “Want your cock inside me, I’ll take it so good, make you feel so good, please…”

“Oh,” Aziraphale moans. “I know you will, sweet thing.” He pulls his fingers away, shushing Crowley’s hiss with a kiss. He strokes himself, smearing his own precome and what slickness stuck to his fingers over his prick, and then he takes Crowley’s lovely, finger-bruised hips through slits on his gown and drags him forward.

Crowley does not need to be persuaded. He lifts himself up on his knees, holding Aziraphale’s cock in one of his hands, and sinks down without any patience whatsoever, immediately taking Aziraphale to the hilt.

They both groan out loud, pushing their mouths together as Crowley begins to move, fucking himself on Aziraphale’s cock. He’s so tight, so hot inside, his body clinging to Aziraphale like a vine, and Aziraphale thinks—a bit hysterically, and certainly not for the first time—that he would like to spend hours like this, letting Crowley ride him or fucking him into the bed or having Crowley fuck him, whatever Crowley wants, as long as their bodies can remain entwined like this, joined together with the sole purpose of bringing pleasure to each other.

Crowley swivels his hips, impaling himself on Aziraphale’s prick until the head grazes his prostate, and he arches into Aziraphale and does it again, over and over and over again, driving Aziraphale mad with ecstasy.

He’s not going to last much longer, and he has a feeling Crowley won’t, either. Oh, how he wants to make Crowley come again, wants to watch him come undone this time, and he grips his hips and thrusts into him hard and fast, at Crowley’s preferred pace, relishing the slap of the back of Crowley’s thighs against his, the sound of his darling boy’s short, panting breaths.

“Will you come again for me, Crowley?” Aziraphale licks his palm and wraps it around Crowley’s cock, spreading the beads at the slit over the head. Crowley screams, and although his hips stutter, he does not stop, simultaneously fucking himself on Aziraphale’s cock and into his slick hand. The blush on his cheeks is so breathtaking, so sinful, and Aziraphale leans forward to pull his pouting bottom lip between his teeth. “Will you do that for me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Crowley whimpers, his arms wrapping around Aziraphale’s neck so he can grasp a fistful of his hair and tug him into another kiss. “Ngh, Azir—angel, I’m—fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“Yes…” Aziraphale strokes him faster, fucks him harder, his own climax rapidly building in his pelvis, but he wants Crowley to come first. “Come for me, you gorgeous thing.”

Give me all of you, he doesn’t say.

Crowley nods his head fiercely and grunts a series of consonants from the back of his throat, and with one more thrust into Aziraphale’s hand, he comes with a cry, spilling himself over Aziraphale’s fingers and waistcoat, still perfectly, neatly done up.

It is the most erotic sight in the world: Crowley’s pink, flushed skin beneath his harness, his mesh gown pooled behind him and at his side, exposing his softening cock. He is beauty and temptation incarnate, as alluring as the forbidden fruit—Aziraphale never stood a chance.

It only takes him one, two, three more snaps of his hips, and then he’s coming inside Crowley, biting Crowley’s shoulder to try (and fail) to lessen the intensity of his moan. Crowley lets out a needy whine, and Aziraphale cannot possibly deny him, and he cups the back of Crowley’s neck and brings him down to swallow the noise.

They stay exactly like that for several minutes, exchanging wet, lewd kisses, tongues licking inside each other’s mouths and their teeth clacking together, their breaths hot and damp over the other’s lips.

Eventually, Aziraphale helps lift Crowley off him, petting his thighs when he winces with oversensitivity. Crowley sits back on his lap, his hands clasping Aziraphale’s shoulders to steady himself, and his eyes are still dark with arousal, and his smile is soft and so terribly kissable, and Aziraphale loves him.

Oh.

Aziraphale loves him.

He kisses Crowley again. There’s no room for those feelings in this Arrangement, but if he can go on pretending nothing has changed, it will be fine. It must be. He’ll make sure of it.

He pulls apart and can’t help smiling at the content, relaxed hum Crowley exhales.

“Y’liked your surprise, I reckon,” Crowley mumbles smugly, sated.

“Oh, yes, quite,” Aziraphale says, nuzzling his neck. “I very much enjoy you in lingerie, my boy.”

“Good,” Crowley sighs, shivering at the first press of Aziraphale’s tongue to his throat. “’Cause you paid for it.”

“Did I?” he muses, sucking lovebites onto the flesh.

“Technically.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t care what Crowley spends his money on. He has plenty of it, and if he’s not going to spend it himself, he might as well give it to someone who will. It’s part of their Arrangement—Aziraphale does not ask questions, and Crowley is in no way obligated to tell him anything. He owes him no explanations, and yet he often gives them, most times bringing Aziraphale a book or trinket he “came across” on the way.  

Fuck. Aziraphale loves him.

“I also got some other stuff,” Crowley adds when Aziraphale moves to the other side of his neck.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Wanna see?”

Aziraphale has never said no to Crowley, and he’s not about to start now.

~~*-*~~

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[lady-divine-writes]

Truth (Part 2 of 2)

Summary:

Anxiety causes Crowley to change into his demonic form. But when he can't remember how to change back, Aziraphale helps, fighting truth with truth.

(AO3)

“What time is our reservation again, my dear?” Aziraphale asks from outside Crowley’s locked office door. Aziraphale knows what time their reservation is. It’s 8:30. Crowley has reminded him numerous times, going so far as to leave a plethora of messages around his shop written in midnight black ink on red Post-It paper that not a single soul with working eyes could ignore. They’re stuck to his teapot, his chair, his curio cabinet; they’ve even made their way inside his books so that the few customers he’s had this past week have actually taken it upon themselves to remind him, too, as they paid for their purchases.

All very unnecessary seeing as demon and angel have started living together now.

One would be hard pressed to tell that seeing as Aziraphale’s presence in Crowley’s flat has been limited so far in its representation. But it’s there in subtle ways – a rare book here, a miniature oil painting there, a few tartan items on Crowley’s dresser in the bedroom, a bottle of his favorite spirits in the fridge, a box of biscuits in the cupboard, those sorts of things. The time they don’t spend in Crowley’s flat they spend together in Aziraphale’s bookshop, absolutely surrounded by those crimson Post-Its. So there’s no way Aziraphale could have forgotten.

But it seems Crowley has, making a beeline for his office the second they’d gotten in and locking the door. Aziraphale assumed he wanted to give his plants a decent misting before they went out, though that doesn’t explain his locking the door. But he’s been inside for hours, and Aziraphale can’t seem to get him out.

“Uh … 8:30,” Crowley replies, his voice muffled by the thick door between them. “Why?”

“Well, it’s 7:45 now, so I figure we should get a wiggle on? You know, to wherever it is you’re taking us? Though considering the way you drive, it will likely take us only three-and-a-half seconds to get there. But I would like to, just this once, go to dinner without putting the fear of God into anyone.”

That last comment is bait. Any other time it would succeed in luring his demon out of hiding so Crowley can inform him that he doesn’t put the fear of God into anyone, and that that saying is a side-effect of societal conditioning. Besides, if a life-or-death situation puts the fear of God into someone over the fear of Satan, then that should say a thing or two about God, shouldn’t it?

But Crowley doesn’t rise to the challenge, not even with so much as a huff.

“I’ll just be another moment,” Crowley says. “I’m wrapping up a few things.”

“Okay.” Aziraphale sighs and backs away from the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen having a brandy when you’re ready. Please, don’t take too long.”

Too long? It’s only been 6000 years! That’s not too long, is it? “I won’t, angel.”

Crowley stands by the door, listening to Aziraphale’s footsteps pad off down the hallway. He waits till he can no longer hear them, then sneaks out of his office and heads to the bedroom. He’s not dressed for dinner. Not an inch, but that’s not a concern. He doesn’t own a single outfit he can’t toss on in less than a second.

He’d gone to his office to prepare for tonight, to grab something important – no, something essential. But when he found it, it triggered a minor anxiety attack, which steadily became a major anxiety attack the longer he looked at it.

Now he’s trapped in the midst of a full blown existential crisis on what should be one of the most important nights of their lives.

He hurries through the bedroom and into the bathroom where his ensemble for the evening hangs on the back of the door, waiting for him to put it on. It took him over a week to pick it out - ludicrous since he doesn’t have much in the way of variety in his wardrobe. Black on black with a few articles of dark grey, some trimmed in red - that’s all he owns.

Shocking.

And for a demon about to propose to an angel, a creature of love and kindness and light, that’s pretty pathetic.

Aziraphale deserves beauty, Crowley thinks as he puts on his somber clothes. He deserves rainbows and sunshine and starlight.

Starlight.

Crowley could give him starlight at least … couldn’t he? He gave starlight to the world. He should be able to give it to Aziraphale.

He looks down at his hands, but he can’t bring himself to snap his fingers.

He can’t bring himself to try and fail.

No. He can’t give Aziraphale starlight. Not now. Not as a demon.

As an angel, he could, but as a demon, what can he do?

He can show him affection in the shallow way humans do, by showering him with lavish gifts. That would be easy for him, take no effort whatsoever. But Aziraphale isn’t impressed by those things. $18,000 watches, expensive cars and clothes don’t impress him. Everything Crowley owns has a designer label attached and Aziraphale has never once batted an eye.

He’s been wearing the exact same coat for over a hundred-and-eighty years, for Satan’s sake! His glasses might actually be older!

Even the restaurant Crowley is taking them to tonight – the finest new French restaurant he could find in London, with an exclusive guest list and lines around the corner – won’t likely impress him.

And if the crepes are crap, he’ll write it off completely, even if the flatware is gold-plated.

Aziraphale relishes the things that show Crowley cares, that he listens when he talks, that he pays attention to his tastes: old books, classical music, trips to the museum, food. He’s filled his bookshop with quaint personal touches – cherubs and teacups and snuff boxes collected throughout the centuries. He didn’t hunt them down and buy them in the present, shelling out hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for them. He bought them from the original artists and kept them safe. Some of the keepsakes in his shop are worth thousands; some are worth nothing. But they’re there because he loves them, and that makes them priceless.

Crowley’s flat is cold and impersonal in comparison, the few things he owns priceless in dollar value, but honestly, most of it means nothing to him.

It’s there for show.

He flips the collar of his shirt, changing it from red to tartan in Aziraphale’s own personal pattern. It’s a little thing, but Aziraphale would appreciate that … wouldn’t he?

Is it enough?

Crowley looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces. Yup. There he is, looking exactly the way he always fucking does - like a Goddamned serial killer, except now he has a plucky tartan collar.

“What the bloody fuck am I doing?” he growls at his reflection. “Aziraphale’s an angel! He’s handsome and smart and witty and fun! He inspires humanity to be better! Who am I compared to that? I’ll tell you who I am - I’m a bitter old snake who drives too fast and yells at plants! He deserves better than me!” Crowley shakes his head, sinking further and further with every turn of his cheek into the mire of his own self-hatred. “He doesn’t know what I am. Not really.”

But if Aziraphale did, he wouldn’t turn away. He wouldn’t leave. Crowley knows this. That’s not who Aziraphale is. He would stand beside Crowley to his own destruction. Marriage to Crowley could most definitely destroy him, if for no other reason that it would put a big, red bullseye on his back for every supernatural entity to see, good or evil.

They’ve managed to keep Heaven and Hell off their backs, but how long can that last?

Aziraphale would say forever, but Crowley doesn’t have much in the way of faith.

Crowley has been lying to everyone. He’s been lying to Hell about what he’s been doing, lying to himself that he’s worthy of his angel.

Lying to Aziraphale, which is the biggest sin of them all.

It’s not so much a lie, he assures himself, but an omission. It never came up, so he never told. Is that really the same thing?

He snarls at his face in the mirror.

Fuck! Is he really trying to loophole his way out of this one? To himself?

He chuckles humorlessly. Of course I am. I’m a demon. That’s what I do.

And because he’s so good at it, Aziraphale is lying, too.

Corruption. It’s contagious.

And regardless of the money he’s accumulated, the status he holds, the power he has, that’s all he can give his angel.

Corruption.

“He thinksss that, deep down, I’m a good perssson,” he hisses. “Becaussse he’sss never ssseen true Evil!” A flashback of Satan rising through the asphalt pops into his head as if in response to that remark. He shakes his head. “Not wearing the face of sssomeone he lovesss! He trusssts me too much! He’sss making a missstake! He doesssn’t believe I can be all that bad!” Crowley swallows hard, swallows down the power swelling within him, that’s called to the surface whenever he gets angry. “Well, if he refussses to believe, I’ll ssshow him! He’ll sssee!”

With a snap of his fingers, he transforms. Wings tear his shirt, ripping through it like paper. His skin goes grey, falls from his frame in chunks revealing maggots underneath. His fingernails grow and curve unto themselves, tips piercing his flesh. Muscles bulge unsightly, joints crack. Feathers fall from his wings till they’re skeletal, the graceful arches bending like wire. His face elongates, hollows at the cheeks, his eyes going black and sinking into their sockets.

The next time he dares look at his face, he’s unrecognizable.

He doesn’t change into this form often. He’s too fond of the human façade he’s created for himself. Every time he changes, he fears he won’t be able to go back. But this is him. And if Aziraphale is dead set and determined to convince himself that he’s in love with a demon, then he needs to see Crowley for who he is.

Crowley stares at himself in the mirror, takes a good long look so that he’ll stop forgetting, stop convincing himself he’s something he’s not.

He can only stand it for a second, then he turns away.

Yes, this demon is him, but it’s also not him. Not entirely. Not anymore. And not for a long time. He might hate that this is the real form of the demon Crowley, but he has to give himself credit for the good that he’s done, intentionally or otherwise. The good that he is.

The parts of him that Aziraphale loves, which seems to be all of him, good or bad.

He sighs, ragged breaths issuing from holes in his lungs and filling up his entire chest cavity, ringing through it like the wind howling through a dead wood log. He knows he has to tell Aziraphale, but not now. He can’t do it now. He doesn’t have the strength. He’s already tapping every inch of his energy to get through this proposal.

He doesn’t know how he could land two weights of equal mass on Aziraphale’s shoulders in one night and expect him to stick around.

Of course, he should probably drop this one on him first, but the demon in him consistently convinces him that’s a bad idea.

And the cowardice in his subconscious tends to agree.

“All right,” he says, his voice an octave lower, grinding in his throat as if drug over nails and rocks. “We’re done pitying ourselves for now. Let’s be done with this, and propose to our angel.”

He snaps his fingers again, picturing, as best he can, his human face in his head.

But nothing happens.

That’s not entirely true. He swears he sees a bright white light. It actually stops his heart for a second since he assumes Aziraphale has miracled his way in, but it’s not his angel. A glance around the room proves that he’s still alone.

And he’s still a mess.

He tries again. He snaps his fingers. No white light this time, so that must have been an illusion, but nothing else changes. Only now, the image of his face in his head has begun to fade.

He snaps and snaps until the skin on his fingers starts to peel away, but not a bit of him goes back to normal.

But what is normal? He’s having a difficult time remembering.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!” he mumbles, going about this a different way and attacking himself instead. He tugs at his wings, digs his nails into his arms, his face, trying to tear through the rotting flesh to the human skin he prays lies underneath.

But it doesn’t.

There’s not an inch of good or healthy or wholesome within him. It’s an illusion. All an illusion. An armor he uses to blend in, deceive. An armor he’s grown to rely on as much as he relies on Aziraphale.

And he doesn’t know how to get it back.

[dolphin-bouillabaisse]

GO-ctober Prompts, 15

Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.

Prompt #15 - Legend

(previous | next | beginning)

(find it all on Ao3)

“You know, there's a story in my Mami's hometown.” Anathema sounds absent-minded, which is rare, but more understandable once you notice the empty glass of wine in her hand. “Been passed down for generations.” “How utterly fascinating.” Crowley mocks, but Aziraphale's tut stops him. The evening had been so nice, and they'd gotten to such a quiet, comfortable state back in his shop, he really doesn't need the demon to break it all with a few sharp comments.

“Do go on, dear.”

“S'just a story, about... this giant snake living in the woods nearby. Eating young girls. She told me to keep me from running off to far, I think.”

“Again: how fascinating.”

“Made me think of you. You know.”

“Listen, not every giant snake story from somewhere in the jungle has to do something with me-”

“There are a lot of them, though.” Anathema grins as Aziraphale refills her wine, sharing the wicked gleam in her eye. Their regular meet-ups have done nothing but help the inner bastard of the angel come out to play, especially with Crowley. He's not quite sure he likes it.

“I couldn't even have been in all of the places people claim to have seen snakes or demons.”

“Stories like that travel, though.” Newt, up until now the quietest of the dinner quartet, speaks up in an almost rambling voice, staring at his half-empty glass (it doesn't take much for him, Anathema has learned quickly. It took much longer to convince Aziraphale not to constantly be a good host and refill his glass. She's not yet gotten it through to Crowley, who's already topping him off, no matter how much she stares him down.) “Especially in older times, like, pre-media. Word of mouth, and fear of monsters, and such. Maybe you just showed up in a few places and then they told all the neighbours.”

“Maybe dragons is your fault, too.” Anathema throws in, grinning, thinking back to their last discussion.

Crowley opens his mouth once, twice. He wants to protest, but neither of the humans are in a state to give him a proper fight instead of continuing the taunt, he decides (or convinces himself). He shrugs and throws himself back on the couch next to them.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, alright. It was all me. Every bad evil monster in fairytales, every devil legend, all me. Happy?”

Anathema giggles quite happily, but Newt's face turns into one of regret – he might not be sober anymore, but he's definitely clear enough to realise that maybe, making an actual demon angry was not a very wise after-dinner partytrick (one which Anathema had perfected by now).

“Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse- I mean-” he stammers, but Crowley waves him off.

“Whatever. Probably would've gotten me more commendations from Downstairs if it was all true.”

“Oh, I'm not sure about that.” Aziraphale interrupts and earns the surprised stare of all three of them, even as glass-eyed as they are by now. “Do you really think Hell would've been happy with you being constantly discovered? We were supposed to lay low, after all.”

“Oh, really?” Crowley hisses, and Newt, who hasn't spent as much time with them as Anathema has – hasn't seen this dance and play as often as she – shrinks down in his seat. “Oh, really? You gonna tell me how to do my job, angel? Gonna say I fucked that up, too?”

“I didn't say that.” Aziraphale wipes non-existent crumbs off his waistcoat. “Especially not with that wording, thank you very much. All I'm saying is”, and that bastardly gleam is back, as Anathema tries to stiffle her giggle and Newt's eyes worryingly dart back and forth between them, “that there are rather a lot of times where even I heard about your workings from locals before I found you.”

Crowley is silent again for a minute – not, like with the humans, because he knows there won't be a fair fight – rather exactly because he knows he will lose.

Unless he turns.

“Assss if”, he hisses yet again, and Newt sinks a little lower, “as if you weren't just as bad!”

“Well, I wasn't.”

“Oh please!”

“I was always a bit more careful than you, dearest.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely, no legends about miracles or angel sightings or helpful glowing strangers anywhere-”

“But you can't pin them on me.” Aziraphale's face is triumphant, his smile a tad too bright. “I could name several angels who've come down for messages. And miracles aren't exactly connected to a person, are they? Not like a snake-shaped monster or, say, a handsome lurker with slit pupils.”

Crowley sputters, his mouth faster than his brain, which is not able to come up with any comebacks. He blames the wine, inwardly. (He's only had half a bottle. If he blamed it outwardly, Aziraphale would set him straight once again, knowing just how much the demon can handle before becoming unbearable.)

The silence hangs over them, a string pulled taught, waiting to snap and either make or break the evening. Anathema loves the suspense. Newt is terrified by the tension.

“There is a story my dad told me.” He breaks the silence, and earns three stares at himself now. Anathema expected a lot, but not for her boyfriend to start off the penultimate argument of the evening. (She feels quite proud.) “About a local Soho cryptid.”

“A Soho cryptid.” Crowley echoes, his eyes darting to Aziraphale, who is very uncomfortably trying not to look at him. A grin grows on the edge of his mouth.

“Yes.” Newt is either too inebriated to notice what he is doing, or too spurned on by the sudden rush of adrenaline of daring to talk. “He's told me when I moved to London, about this shop that's been open for like two hundred years. Which isn't much in London, I guess. But also about how the clerk never seems to change.”

Crowley's grin grows unbearable. Anathema is stifling her giggles again.

“Told me how he visited the place once and there was a picture on the wall of the opening on, like, 18-something, and it was the same dude standing behind the counter.”

Crowley barks out a laugh. He remembers that picture. He can see it before his inner eye, clearly – mostly because it's now hanging in the small flat upstairs, after a customer had made a comment that left Aziraphale stammering and sputtering to find an excuse.

“I thought my dad was just having me on, you know, wanting to scare me when I moved to a bigger city, but then-” Newt takes a sip of the wine, some liquid courage, “I went to some shops around the area, and they all said the same, or something similar. Or they had a story about the same person helping them and their great-grandpa. Or about the strange- ...the going-ons in the bookshop on the corner. There was a lady who called it a liminal space, but back then I didn't know what that was, so I thought she was just a bit crazy.” He throws an apologetic look to Anathema, who's not even noticed the implied insult, far too busy with both being proud of him and excitedly watching Crowley rise (quite shakily) from his spot on the couch and point an accusing finger at Aziraphale, who has sunk down in his armchair almost as much as Newt on the sofa.

“Aha!” Crowley hollers, and the finger keeps pointing. “I might be in medieval legends, angel, but at least I didn't brand my liminal space with my own goddamn name! At least I don't go around in a century old costume to have people gossip about me being some kind of ghost shopkeep!”

“At least my legends are nice stories.” Aziraphale tries to counter. It doesn't do much, as Crowley is already laughing with absolute victory as he falls back on the couch.

Anathema leans over to Newt to place a kiss on his cheek – he is pretty unaware what for, but he enjoys it nonetheless.

The evening's entertainment has been sorted.

(Crowley will not let it rest with the evening, though. The following weeks, not a day goes by during which Aziraphale doesn't hear a new story about himself the demon's found out from local residents. Crowley will recite them with utter glee, about how the bakery on the corner has kept to a certain recipe for generations now only because they fear it will anger whatever-Aziraphale-is-in-their-minds if they change it, how the old lady living in number 86 down the street remembers him being ever so helpful when her mother moved in as a shunned single mother 80 years ago, how he hasn't aged a day since he showed up in that ancient newspaper clipping about peculiar shops of the area.)

(He stops one day, Aziraphale notices, and it takes quite a lot of pushing and prodding to find out why – how the stories soon switched to the equally puzzling car parked outside the shops for decades now. To the string of handsome, well-dressed, stylish gentlemen that the Soho cryptid seemed to entertain – a cryptid with a type, they all agreed, a certain taste for red hair and good cheekbones and far too long limbs.)

(The argument is at an impassé. They decide to lay it to rest. Aziraphale, as a last act of bastard-ness, hangs up an old daguerrotype of the two of them next to the shop's till. Anathema spots it on her next visit and breaks down in a fight of laughter.)

[nyxi-styx]

On Character Development

Let me preface this by saying that I started watching Supernatural somewhat casually in 2012, but binging in 2014. (The first episode I ever saw was actually a rerun of ‘A Very Supernatural Christmas’ back in 2008/09-ish.) I diligently watched EVERY episode, catching up online or on the app when I didn’t have cable. I stopped watching season 12 a few episodes in because I hated it. I watched some of the beginning of season 13 and it was “okay”, watched Scoobynatural because I’ve loved Scooby-Doo for as long as I can remember (my bedroom in 2nd grade when I was living with my grandma was entirely scooby-doo themed), and watched Gabriel’s episodes because... he’s my fave. I got tired of the repetitive storylines and recycled lore. I got tired of their mistreatment of characters. I am still tired of these things. And I’m tired of the constant fandom drama. I tried to leave, to get out, to stop caring. But I still care about the characters, the cast, my ships... Destiel and writing content for it has been a big part of my freetime for the past 4-5 years. It’s hard to walk away from something that has made you feel so many things so intensely. I started out as a Dean girl (still am) and Samcurious (Still am). Then I was a Cas girl, a Crowley girl, fuck- even a Kevin girl, before ultimately settling on Gabriel. When information about the end of season 14 came out, I was surprised at the route they’d chosen to go, amused, and- as a Rob Benedict fan- kind of excited. I was (and still am) ready for the absolute SHIT SHOW I know season 15 is going to be. It’s either going to be bad in the way that bad horror movies exist and you watch them because they’re so terrible but they’re fun. Or it’s going to be bad and no one is going to have a good time. It’s going to be emotional in the time leading up to the airing of it all anyway. There’s going to come “Last day filming with [actor]” posts, “Last day in the Impala“ posts, “Last day in the bunker” posts, and saddest of all “Last day as Dean/Sam/Castiel” posts. It’s going to be painful. But I’m ready and willing. I can’t wait to see what they do next. Anyway...

I tried to watch JUST the season 14 finale. But I barely made it five minutes before I had to turn it off. Not because it was bad, but because the recap, “Carry On Wayward Son”, and J2′s acting abilities and the EMOTIONS they portray... dragged me right back in. I knew I had to catch up. Against my better judgement. “Fuck.”

So, once I finished catching up on “Slasher” (great Netflix series, highly recommend), I started catching up on anything I hadn’t seen of season 13 and rewatching Gabriel’s episodes. (Did I mention he’s my fave?)  I’m now 10 episodes into season 14.

Now, the show isn’t without its faults still. Honestly, so many things could be solved if Sam and Dean would stop letting monsters monologue. Shoot first, ask questions later. But... then we lose all the drama, right? Still more things could be solved if Sam and Dean would talk to each other openly and honestly but hey. BMs, right? Bro moments? Broments?

First of all, no one will EVER be able to touch Mark Pellegrino’s performance as Lucifer. He makes me feel everything: From “Lucifer is annoying and I goddamn love him; he’s so funny.” to “Jesus fucking christ just KILL HIM WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE!!! STAB LUCIFER! LET HIM DIE!!” and everything in between. He almost got me to sympathize with him. Yikes.

Secondly, the range of Misha fucking Collins and his multiple portrayals of different versions of Castiel (and Jimmy) will never stop blowing me away. He’s gone from Angel of the Lord and High Holy Tax Accountant and you WILL show him some damn respect!... to sassy as fuck (honestly I live for him sassing Lucifer while they were locked up in hell) and not willing to take shit from anyone except Sam and Dean. And that’s growth, man. He’s just... I don’t have the ability to put all of my thoughts and emotions into words, so please settle for a simple “UGHGHGHGHHHHHHHH” followed by a keysmash like so: aslkfla;sknfkasdjfnwqrjqejrfna Sam, Dean, and Cas are all REALLY GOOD DADS to JACK??????????? Like I expected it from Cas since it’s his duty because he promised Kelly and all, and I kinda expected it from Dean once he came around because he’d be the dad he wished he’d had, but I wasn’t quite expecting it from Sam??? But Sam is REALLY good??????

Sam has changed a lot too, overtime, and I don’t know how to describe it, exactly, but whatever it is... while I have always recognized Jared as a handsome man- sure, even hot or sexy at times- I never was SUPER into him... I’m more attracted to Sam now than I have ever been in the past and it’s something in his personality that has shifted that I can’t quite put my finger on. But attraction aside, it’s so GOOD to see these characters actually grow, change, and develop despite the fact that the show seems to have forgotten how to do that.

Now, at first, when I heard about Dean accepting warzone!Michael and being his vessel, I was angry. “Fuck that. That’s out of character. Dean would NEVER!” But... upon seeing it happen... okay, I get it. It was super in character. And it was awesome to see Jensen play something vastly different (and kinda hot) and do so very fucking well. The pain and fear on his face when he realizes what he has to do... Well fucking done Jensen!!! And the raw fear and pain on Castiel’s face as he waits alone... Well fucking done, Misha!!!

What I hadn’t noticed in my first watch-through of “Exodus” (I think)- and it’s probably because I was angry and turned it off- was that Dean said “Gabe sacrificed himself for us. We owe him everything.” First of all, I love the canonization of calling Gabriel “Gabe”. 12/10 Secondly, this is not the attitude I would ever have expected Dean to have about Gabriel. Not when you consider their history. And Jensen’s delivery of that really hurt. Additionally, when Gabriel is recounting his time hiding out in Monte Carlo to Sam and Dean, and Sam gets annoyed and cuts him off, Dean looks like he’s actually enjoying the story. He even turns to look at Sam with an expression I can only describe as “excuse you. the man lived my fantasy life and i’m living vicariously. rude.” The fact that Dean wasn’t always curt or hostile towards Gabriel is not at all what I expected and it’s honestly good to see that kind of growth. Dean and Gabriel aren’t really super different, after all. Furthermore, what I didn’t notice through BOTH times I watched Gabriel’s s13 episodes and what was featured in the recap preceding 14x01... Dean shouted “Gabe! No!” when Gabriel was killed by Michael. I didn’t notice this before and I legitimately had to pause the recap because it pained me. It genuinely brought me to tears. Again: GROWTH. Like... Dean actually cared about Gabriel. And that was something I never expected but oh my god.

I love finding things out about the characters we didn’t know before. So we all knew that Dean likes junk food, is a big nerd, loves Scooby-Doo, and loves classic rock music (and is a disaster bi) but I LOVED finding out that he loves horror movies and uses them as an escape. (Jesus, Dean and I are almost the same person except I’m pan). Gabriel’s entire backstory is another thing I loved finding out. Juicy tidbits are the best tidbits. But Gabriel’s character development is another whole post on its own.

Sam taking control and commanding forces out of the bunker is another personal favorite. As was Sam’s interactions with Lucifer and Rowena.

I don’t know. I’m starting to ramble because all of this is just bringing up more thoughts and I’m getting disorganized and derailed. It’s too long of a post as it is so I’ll just end it.

I’m just really glad to see the characters growing and developing in a show that’s just a dead cash cow that they won’t quit beating enough to take risks and make changes.

Oh god, the Wayward Sisters episode was its own hot pot of character development and  a masterpiece, but again... another post of it’s own.

[canonconspiracy]

Defending The King

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Fandom: Supernatural

Warnings: Language

Fanfiction Writer: @rmorningstar21

Posted Elsewhere On Wattpad under same username.

AN: Honestly, I'm going to be posting a few of my newer/older fics on here. Wanted to share them with more of an audience. I LOVE Crowley, so goddamned much. He's my top for Supernatural.

__________

“Do you know how many goddamned times that Crowley has helped us?” you said with a scowl etched into your face, your eyes like daggers at your older brother.  You knew your brothers were both very protective of you, but you hated the fact that they would always talk down about Crowley in front of you, primarily around the time that they need his help with something, or right after he had already helped with something.  In this case, the apocalypse, once again, had just ended. Of course, they had more than just Crowley’s help, but he’s the King of Hell. For him to actually help out and be a team player should have in itself made them thankful. “If you would kindly stop talking trash, that would be swell.  You went on your little bromance with Crowley anyhow, and howled at the fucking moon with him!”

“I was a demon at the time, Y/N,” Dean said rolling his eyes.  “Do you think I would go and disappear with him again? Not in my right mind, I wouldn’t.  Why do you always defend that man? He’s the King of Hell!” Dean’s arms crossed defensively, his voice growing louder with each word, almost as if he thought yelling it at you would get his point across more effectively.  In turn, it did quite the opposite.

“King of Hell or not,” you said, trying to collect yourself before you fully went off on your brother, “He’s a good man- he’s fucking kind, has not tried to kill any one of us, keeps his goddamned demons away as well as he can, and has saved each of our lives, yours especially.”  You mimicked your brother, crossing your hands as well as you spoke. “He just helped us save the fucking world, again, to top off the fucking cake. I would not care if he was a fucking unicorn; you should respect him! Instead, what the hell do you do - oh, yeah, you guys fucking keep warning him that you’re going to be the one to kill him one day, or something stupid like that.  I’m shocked he even sticks around with how much of asshats you two can be to him. I, on the other hand, enjoy his fucking company. He’s a gentleman, witty, smart, and I could go on for hours. I doubt you would listen to it, though.”

You, of course, had not noticed that behind you stood the King of Hell himself as you spoke about him, defending him against your older brother.  Dean, on the other hand, looked as if he had seen a ghost as he saw Crowley phase in halfway through what you were saying. Crowley, standing behind you, had a shocked expression as well, but he did not interrupt you the entire time.  As you were defending him, his shocked tone was primarily in his face, while his eyes were softened by your words.

Near the end of what you were saying, Dean cleared his throat, as if he was trying to alert you of something.  You, of course, were fuming and did not catch the hint that he was throwing at you. In a bit of a huff, you finished what you were saying, and about faced to walk back to your room.  As you began walking, you practically walked right into the man that you were just defending, and your face flushed white, slowly glancing upward into handsome hazel brown eyes. Your heart beat raced in your chest, and your breath hitched as you realized that he may have heard all of what you said.  

His scottish accent poured each word as a fine wine as he calmly said, “Hello, Darling.  Care for a chat?”

Your eyes widened, and due to the shock you were currently going through, you could only nod sheepishly at the man standing in front of you.  With a snap of his fingers, the two of you were in a fine looking room. It was somewhat barren despite a few fancy looking adornments, and you had realized with further examination that it was in fact the throne room itself.  Through the whole few second process that it took to get there, you still had not uttered a word, nor had you figured out what to say to the man. Anything after the word unicorn could have given your stance towards the King of Hell himself away, and that was the one thing you were trying to keep hidden for the most part.  As you had defended him, the remainder came out as word vomit, since you were absolutely sick of listening to your brother talk down about the King of Hell.

“Cat got your tongue?” he chuckled softly, his accent thick and enticing, no matter what seemed to come out of his mouth.  

You bit your lip lightly, nervousness seeming to get to you, and looked away from his intimidating gaze.  “I-uh,” you said, stumbling over your words. In a sense, you felt as if you were in trouble for the things that you had said about him, no matter how positive they were.  “How much did you hear?” Your stutter was slowly getting better as you spoke more, but your voice was still sheepish and full of anxiousness.

“Enough to hear you rip your brother a new one,” he said with a chuckle.  “As bloody funny as that was, it makes me wonder.” The proximity of the two of you was still relatively close from the point that you had almost walked directly into him, and he was able to reach a strong hand upward, cupping your chin.  His finger ran across your cheekbone softly, examining you as he did so. Hazel brown eyes began lighting up a bit as he watched the blush rising in your cheeks, and a light smirk crossed his lips.

You had never been truly that close to the King of Hell, despite a few times that he had rescued you from his demons and was freeing you from your chains.  From this position, you watched his lips curl into the smirk slowly, paying close attention to the curvature of his lips, and you wondered how soft they would be on your own.  It was a silly thought, of course, but you had feelings for the King of Hell for quite some time.

“That’s what I thought,” he practically purred out in his scottish accent, sending shivers down your spine.  You were about to rip away from his grasp, try and cover for your own actions, but he had noticed that you were staring at his lips with y/e/c eyes longingly.  He leaned down, pressing his own lips to yours, and you could feel the soft, gentle nature of those lips that you had desired so badly. The kiss left you wanting more, but he pulled back to see your reaction.  The pout that showed softly upon your face gave him the answer that he needed, and he drew you into another kiss. This one, you were able to wrap your arms around his neck as he snaked his around your waist, pulling you closer than you had ever imagined being with the King of Hell himself.  

As the two of you separated once more, he whispered, “You know, Darling, I love you as well.”

++++++++

Your heartbeat quickened as you heard those words, and the closeness made you quiver in wonder.  The need for exploration was imminent, and you drew him back into the kiss this time. He picked your small figure up as you kissed, and brought you over to the throne itself.  Setting you upon his lap, you could feel his hardening member underneath your ass as you continued. His tongue fought yours for dominance, eventually winning and exploring your mouth hungerly.  You could not help but let out a soft moan as he explored, and felt his hands begin to move against your sides. Crowley’s strong hands traced your figure, leaving you with the desire for them to go upward.  

While the two of you kissed, you began rotating yourself gently upon his hardened cock, teasing the King of Hell and making him desire you more and more.  You could hear him stifle a moan as the two of you played, and his hands found their way to the edge of your shirt, pushing it upwards hastily. For a moment, you disconnected your arms to bring them over your head, allowing the shirt to shed from your body, thrown by Crowley to the side of the throne.  

“Naughty girl,” he purred out between kisses, as you started to rotate your hips a little faster, followed by a needy groan

[nonbinary-androids]

christmas gift fics - previews

You read the title of this post. You know what’s happening. What more do I have to say?

Format is:

Title, for gift-reciever (fandom) Summary

Notes: What I have to say.

Quick note before we start: The summaries on these are NOT final. Chances are that the fics themselves won’t change much, but I am a big fan of turning around and completely revamping my summaries. And now, onto sneak peeks!

to be alone with you, for @enbyboiwonder​ (macgyver) After a mission goes wrong, Mac and Jack end up snowed into a cabin in the middle of a freezing Canadian winter. To make matters worse, there’s only three days left until Christmas

Notes: My thoughts around this fic alternated rapidly between “Does it snow in California? No? Well, fuck it. Im bringing them up here. ThERE’S GOTTA BE SNOW” “Pining... jaskdjfh they’re in lOVE” and “oh my god, why are there so many words, there weren’t supposed to be this many words-”. It was still an absolute blast to write! Not quite finished yet, but I’m pretty sure there’s 2k left at max. (Although, now that I’ve said that, it’s going to go on for another 10k and consume my soul.) Also, T R O P E S.

you, me, and the state of california, for the magisterium discord (magisterium) It’s Copper Year and Aaron is doing fine, thank you very much. He’s totally chill about Call’s enormous, life-threatening secret, the stupid amounts of attention directed at them, the fact that he as nowhere to go for Christmas, and the stupid, embarrasing, overwhelming crush he has on his counterweight, of all people. Very, very chill.

At least Call offering to let him stay over at the Hunt house will solve one of of those problems, right?

Notes: There are too many people in the Magisterium discord for me to write them all fics, (which I am very sad about) so this is my way of giving everyone something!

to make one someone happy, for @imthesurvivorcatherineparr​ (good omens) This was it. This was the year that, come hell, high water, angelic intervention or the end of the goddamn world, the Rainbow Alliance of Elliot Adams High School was going to get Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley together.

Notes: I’m sucking at actually writing this, but gosh golly do I have so many Ideas™

sister winter, for @a-small-fangirl​ (it movie) (IF YOU AREN’T MANAR, I’M SORRY FOR @’ing YOU RANDOM STRANGER!! And also to actual Manar for not knowing your URL rip) It only takes a heartbeat.

Ritchie looks at Eddie mid-laugh. It’s a real laugh, his head thrown back, mouth open wide, shoulders heaving, leaving the column of his neck exposed to Ritchie’s gaze.

The image hits him like a truck, like a revelation, like a condemnation, which it is. Eddie is laughing, and he wants to kiss him.

-

Five times Ritchie wanted to kiss Eddie and one time Eddie did.

Notes: Hi I have no idea how my characterization is on this bc I’ve never seen this movie, haven’t read the wiki page and have read one (1) fic for this pairing, but damn if I’m not doing it anyways!

little brother, for @linaseraphina13​ (magisterium) The person- boy- in question looked about six or seven years old, with light brown skin, black hair and piercing grey eyes. Alex thought Anastasia had mentioned him vaguely- he hadn’t been paying attention. His name might have started with a C; Calvin, maybe, or Cameron, or possibly even Kevin. Something like that.

“Move over,” the boy said firmly. In his hand, he clutched a book so tightly his fingers were turning white and red. Alex couldn’t make out the title from the distortion.

“Why?”

“Because,” the boy said, his voice strong. “This is my house. I live here. And now I want to read here.”

-

Call is raised by Anastasia. He meets Alex. Everything promptly goes to hell from there.

Notes: I know I didn’t ask you about the prompt for this one, but you highkey intimidate the hell out of me, and you did mention wanting to see this, so, uh you’ll be recieving it? Yay?

put your trust in me, for @gray-mark​ (magisterium) Yes, Constantine had been a little... different since Jericho’s death, but then they all had been. This was still Constantine, wasn’t it? Still the boyfriend Alastair knew and loved?

Something about the slightly crazed look in Constantine’s eyes told him differently.

OR

How Alastair got Constantine’s wristband.

Notes: As IF I’m not writing our local angst goddess angst for Christmas.

BONUS ROUND: Christmas Fics I Might/Am Writing But That Aren’t Gifts:

all i want for christmas (magisterium) Three Christmases William Rufus spent with people that he loved.

in sickness and in health (rent the musical) It was a not-so minor miracle that Angel had survived a full year. Her health deteriorated a little more every day, even with her fighting spirit and relentless optimism. Still, sitting with her was the highlight of every one of Collins’ days, for better or for worse.

Today however, she seemed as bright and beautiful as the day he’d met her, eyes twinkling even under the harsh hospital lights.

“Well now, who’s this handsome stranger?” Angel asked teasingly, pushing herself upright. He embraced her thin frame and felt her skinny arms wrap around him in return. “God, I feel like waiting for today’s taken forever.”

OR

The Schunard-Collins have a Christmas wedding.

[crashdevlin]

Good Things: Part 2

part one 

You were lucky, when the demon started making its way through the wake, to be wearing a silver anti-possession amulet. Elvis, Alicia and Jody weren't so lucky. 

At one point, you were searching the manor with Mary, the stunningly beautiful and young mother Winchester. "I saw how Dean was looking at you. His father used to look at me like that." She said, quietly, not looking at you. She concentrated on clearing the room.

"Oh?" You couldn't think of anything better to say.

"I rejected John when he first asked me out. He was a Marine. I didn't want a soldier. Spent my whole life around hunters, didn't need more of the macho BS in my world." Mary finally turned to look at you. "Dean looks at you like he's trying to figure out how to win you over."

You cleared your throat. "I... don't... Dean has a reputation." You weren't sure why that was what came out of your mouth.

"I've heard." She confirmed.

"And I'd've been fine with that rep, but he was talking about some chick he had a connection with and I'm not the kind of chick guys like Dean cheat on their girlfriends with... I mean... I can't... Look at me."

"He doesn't have a girlfriend." Mary put her hand on your shoulder. "You should talk to him when this is over."

You did. After the exorcism, as you were watching Asa, Randy and Elvis being sent home in smoke, you bit your lip and approached him. "Thought I should actually say 'Goodbye' this-"

"You should come to breakfast with us." He interrupted. "We're takin' Mom to get some bacon. What do you say?"

You smiled. "Well, does this look like a body that says 'no' to bacon?"

You sat between Sam and Jody in a diner booth in North Dakota. Dean sat across from you, sharing a large plate of bacon with Mary. "Okay, craziest thing you've ever hunted?" Dean asked.

"Uh, probably the transsexual witch who cursed her community college to wake up in the body of someone of the opposite sex so they'd understand how she felt." You answered, before taking a bite of pancake.

"When you say 'she'..." Sam trailed off. It was a genuinely curious question.

"Born 'Michael', became 'Michelle'."

"What'd you do with her?" Mary asked, drinking down some coffee.

"Well, she hadn't actually hurt anyone, just confused the fuck out of 'em for about 16 hours, and she did it out of an overwhelming desire to be understood, so I put her in contact with a Wiccan priestess I know. Last I heard, she was flourishing in her new coven, really embraced the 'Harm ye none' thing."

"Wicca is new agey white-" Dean started to explain, but Mary shot him a death glare.

"Gardnerian witchcraft has been around since the Fifties, Dean. 'Wicca' replaced 'Witch' because the hippies wanted to beat the negative connotations, wanted everyone to know they weren't wart-covered crones in candy houses trying to curse everyone and eat little children."

"Oh, we met her." Sam spoke up.

"Who?" You and Jody chimed in together.

"The witch from 'Hansel and Gretel'. She was turning crappy adults into shitty kids so that she could eat them. Hansel was in on it."

You looked between the brothers. "You're bullshitting."

"Swear to God. She was one of the last old-timey witches from the Grand Coven. Probably only a small handful of 'em left. Rowena doesn't count." Dean answered Sam's unasked question.

"Who's Rowena?"

"A tiny Scottish ball of fury and dark magic. Not really evil, but definitely not one of the good guys." Dean responded.

"She got kicked out of the Grand Coven for being too ambitious." Sam followed up.

"Not to mention: you know Crowley? That's his mom."

"Crowley, the demon?" You asked.

"Crowley, the douchebag." Jody snorted derisively.

You laughed. "Okay. Somebody else, weirdest hunt you ever been on?"

"There was a Shifter who spent a year following Paul Simon's tour. He was killing people who had tickets to the shows so he could take their spot." Mary said, around a piece of bacon.

"Being the reason Bobby Singer found out Leviathans are allergic to borax was pretty weird." Jody provided.

"What's a Leviathan?"

"They almost ate the world, what, five years ago?" Sam asked Dean, who nodded. "They were seriously low-key about it, though. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of them."

"You sound like a hipster." You laughed. "So, what about you two? The legendary Winchester Brothers must have been on some ridiculous hunts."

"Oh, all kinds. Let's see, top of my head. Bloody Mary, killer clown ghost, haunted movie set where I got really into my role as PA, we killed Santa, the angels once wiped our memories and gave us new identities working office jobs. There was that time with the dragons. Oh, and when we went back in time and met Samuel Colt and killed a phoenix." Dean went through the list alternating between excitement and boredom.

"Not to forget everything Gabriel did to us. That was all ridiculous. Oh, and that alternate universe Balthazar sent us to where our lives were a moderately successful primetime TV show." Sam added.

"And Chuck's books about us."

"And finding out that Chuck was God."

"And not dying in the dust-up between God and his sister." Dean turned to Mary with a smile. "And getting Mom back as reward for mediating a reconciliation between them."

You stared at the table, going through everything you just heard. "Holy shit." You gasped out, finally. "I... I knew you guys started and stopped the apocalypse a few times, but... holy shit. Back and forth through time, alternate realities, you know God and he has a sister?!"

"You should stick around. We're bound to blow your mind some more. Crowley and our angel friend, Cas, are working together to find Lucifer, who was most recently seen in the body of has-been glam rocker, Vince Vincente."

"Oh, holy... Lucifer was in Ladyheart."

"No, Lucifer was in a dude who was in Ladyheart." Dean corrected.

"Wow. Your lives really are legendary."

"Well, you never know. Stick around. It might rub off on you. Then, you could be a legend." Jody nudged you, lightly, as Mary looked down with a smile. The moms were conspiring together.

"Yeah, well... I'm not sure if I could handle that."

"You don't know til you try, do you?" Dean smirked at you from across the table.

You took a deep breath. You had one more tool in your tool-bag to try to fend off whatever the hell was happening here: blunt, honest confrontation. "You are putting in a lot of effort here to get your 'I Fucked A Fatty' badge, aren't'cha?"

Everyone at the table jerked and the mood immediately fell into a limbo of apprehension as Dean blinked at you. "What?" He said after several long seconds.

"Oh, come on. This is obviously some Playboy Scavenger Hunt, right? Your list of conquests, a 'Fuck-it List'?" You took a bite of your pancake and looked pointedly across the table at him. "I'm a novelty, right? Bang a black chick, bang a latina, a milf, a mature... twins?"

Dean nodded, slowly, and licked his lips. "You think I've been flirting with you, trying to get you in bed, so that I can cross 'fat chick' off my list? Just makin' sure I got this right." You took a drink of your coffee and returned his uncomfortable gaze. He nodded again, then leaned forward. "When I was twenty-three, I met a chick named Ursula Green at a bar. She was five-foot-nothing, three hundred pounds, wearing a red halter top and a skirt with a split in the side clean up to her hip. She danced like no one was watching and threw a beer bottle at the redneck who told her to 'take her fat ass home' and I grabbed two nice big handfuls of her ass when I took her back to her home that night."

You swallowed. His green eyes bored into your soul as he continued. "She crossed 'fat chick' off my list." The way he said it was like he couldn't believe he was saying those words. "Now, I don't know what you've heard about me and I'm sure that I've earned a bit of that reputation... but I am not gonna sit here and let you think that I've been talkin' to you just because you're a little on the chunky side and that makes you a novelty. I don't know what kinda men you generally let into your life, y/n, but I don't play games like that."

You opened your mouth but no words came out. The other three occupants of the booth table all looked very uncomfortable, so you cleared your throat and stood. You threw a ten dollar bill on the table and walked out of the diner. 

"Where the hell are you going?"

"I'm going home, Dean." You grabbed the handle of your driver's side door and pulled your key.

"Yeah, I got eyes, y/n." He growled, putting a hand on your car door to keep you from opening it. "Why?"

You turned to him, exasperated. "Because I don't know what to do!" You shouted, pulling away from your door and leaned against the backseat window. 

"I've never had a man want me for anything more than a single-night novelty fuck, or worse a pity fuck, Dean, and I don't know what to do about a man like you wanting-"

"What do you mean, 'a man like me'?" Dean interrupted.

"A preposterously handsome biblical hero who shouldn't even look at a woman like me."

"What do you mean 'a woman like you'?" Dean shook his head. "Look, y/n, more than what I saw from you last year and-and what I saw from you with Jael last night, I have asked about you. Every hunter I've talked to since Spirit Lake has a story about you, some way that you've helped them in the past." You opened your mouth to argue that you weren't anything special and you'd always just done what any hunter would do, but Dean stepped closer to you and you were suddenly struck with how tall the man was. "You think outside the box, you put others first, you are the epitome of selfless and goddamn it, you're gorgeous."

You looked down. "That's not true..."

"Stop acting like you don't see it." Dean demanded.

For some reason you needed to resist him. "See what? I've got mirrors in my house, Winchester. I see-"

"You obviously don't see. You don't see what I see."

"Are you kidding me?! You really expect me to believe that you met me, spent two days with me, and I-I somehow impressed you enough that you've spent the last year with me on your mind? I'm not an idiot!"

"Yeah, not an idiot but you sure are blind." Dean took another step closer to you, looking down at you with a confused annoyance. "Fuck, y/n. Why the hell won't you-"

"Because it's too good to be true!" You exclaimed, pushing off from the side of your car and standing up to him, ignoring that his height was so intimidating. 

"Good things don't happen to me, Dean, they never have. So when I have a stunningly handsome man telling me I'm gorgeous, it sets off my bullshit alarm."

"Good things don't happen to you because you run away as soon as they start!" Dean insisted. "You think those extra pounds around your middle are your defining characteristic, but they aren't. That weight is nothing and you need to stop focusing so much on it. I didn't even clock you as fat until you started that shit inside. This isn't bullshit, y/n. I leave my lies for when I'm on a hunt."

You bit your lip and looked up into his stunning green eyes. "Dean, I-"

His face softened. "I'm not trying to get you to jump in bed with me, y/n." He reached out and brushed a stray hair out of your face. His hand rested against your ear and his fingers twirled your hair. "But don't run. Stay. Let the good things happen... in their own time."

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and presented it to him. "Put your number in. I'll text you."

"You're still gonna leave?" He asked, disappointed, as he took a step back and took the phone out of your hand.

"I've got a hunt in Tennessee. Only reason I'm not on it already was for Asa." You answered. "But... I'm interested in... letting the good thing... this good thing... happen."

"The cautious approach. I'm all right with that." He said, tapping his thumbs against the screen of your cell phone. "I just texted myself so that I have your number, too. A warning: I drunk text." He smiled as he handed your phone back.

"Okay. As long as you don't send pictures I haven't requested... I'm okay with that."

"There gonna be pictures you do request?"

You chuckled, turning your forgotten key in the driver's door. "Maybe, Winchester."

"Can I request pictures?" He asked, as you got into your car.

"Not yet." You smiled as you turned your engine over and headed out. 

Part Three

[supernaturalmistress]

Lost Soul Series_Pt. 2-Broken

Summary: You went missing for four years under Sam and Dean’s watch. Once they get a surprising call from a friend saying that you’re in Kansas, they find you, take you under their wing, but something seems off about you. Like something is missing, and once Dean believes he should confess his love to you, he finds out just what you lost, your soul. His only mission is to retrieve your soul from Crowley and all the while wanting to tell you just how he feels…but knowing he can’t.

Future Pairings: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (barely)

Chapter warning: A little angst, some yelling

Future Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, hella angst, heartbreak (but will be fixed, I swear) This is before Sam lost his soul, so the boys are experiencing this for the first time.

Word Count: 2,086

Author’s Notes: Hey guys. Um it’s been forever, I’m sorry. I’m a terrible human being lol. So yah, um here’s two and more on the way. Love y’all.

Missed anything? Lost Soul Masterlist

“My soul.”

They both shot up and looked at each other. Dean choked for a moment.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you well but it sounds like you just said your soul, please tell me you didn’t...”

“Um ok then, I guess I didn’t.”

Sam moved to you and held you by your shoulders.

“J.J, this is serious, it isn’t a time for jokes. Now, what do you mean your soul?”

“Ok, fine sorry ladies, and just like it sounds. Crowley has my soul. He said it the most valuable thing a human can possess, and he had to take mine in order to save me because it was one of the purest ones he’s ever seen.” you said as you finished packing.

“Wait--how does that even work?” Sam asked. Boy, he asked a lot of questions.

“Well, I’m guessing when you get your soul taken, it’s what possesses your feeling because ever since then, I haven’t felt anything. I mean, emotionally.” Dean and Sam swapped looks, mostly worry and fear. You had no feelings, what the hell does that mean. You noticed their confusion so you helped elaborate.

“Look, I can’t feel ok? I don’t feel hate, love, sadness or anger. None of it, I’m just...meh. To put it easier, no emotions. There, better?”

You stalked toward the door. as it began to open, Dean slammed it shut before you could get out.

“What the hell dude? Duty calls, I got things to do,” you said as you tried to pry the door open.

“No,” he said sharply.

“Excuse me? No?”

“Yes, no. You are not leaving until we find a way to get it back.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“What?” he asked sternly. You grew tired of Dean’s ‘protective brother’ act.

“I said, ‘Good luck with that�� cause I sure as hell ain’t gonna help you find it.”

He seemed angry and upset at the fact you didn’t want to get your soul back.

What? It wasn’t his, so why was he worried.

Sam asked, “Don’t want it back? J, this is your soul we’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I know that Einstein, plus have you ever thought about what I want? Maybe I don’t want it back. If I did, wouldn’t I have been going to hell and back to try and get after all this time?”

Realization finally hit them, you were right. If you wanted your soul, you would've been fighting to get it back. But Dean couldn't let you sit there, soulless, while he wanted to love you and care for you, and you couldn't even do the same in return. Oh hell no, he wasn't gonna let you rot with no soul, unable to love or feel anything.

“You're coming back to the bunker.”

You raised your brows.

“Oh no, we are not doing this again.”

“Doing what?” Dean asked with an attitude.

You’ve had about enough of the dumb-play.

“I'm gonna tell you guys something I should've said a long time ago but I was too scared and too fragile to say it. I'm tired of you guys always telling me what and what not to do. Most of my life I've done nothing, nothing, but take orders from y’all and frankly, I'm sick of it. I was always too scared to make any kind of decision on my own without feeling you breathing down my neck telling me what's right and wrong. I'm 26 years old for God's sake, and obviously you can't see that because all I am to you is a pathetic little girl, who always needs her two big, brave heroes to come clean up her messes.”

“J.J, that's--”

“No Dean, let me finish. The bullshit that I've been putting up with ever since I've gotten out of high school has been because of you two. This whole 'I lost my soul' situation has probably been the best thing to ever happen to me because now, I'm not afraid of speaking my mind, I don't care about how other people are feeling and I couldn't give two shits about what anybody else thinks about me. I'm finally free to not worry about anybody but myself for once. So please just let me breathe, for one goddamn minute.”

Silence.

Nothing but silence passed through the room. Your chest heaved as you got the final words out. Sam stared at the floor while Dean exited the room to Baby. He felt nothing but disappointment, in himself and his effort.

Deans POV

Was it true? all this time she’s felt like we’ve been doing nothing but hurting her, but we’ve only been trying to help her. Especially me. all I’ve wanted to do was protect her because without her in my life, everything would’ve completely gone to shit. I needed her and I would've done anything to not make her feel that way. Why did she never say anything? She was hurt and we just kept on. We just wanted to keep her safe, I wanted to keep her safe.

Your POV

“You know, I always knew that you'd find me one of these days, and I knew y’all wouldn't be able to understand why I did what I did. But fuck it, if that's how it is, then that's how it is.” You confessed to Sam. You pulled all your luggage in your hands and Sam pulled your arm. You looked back at him.

“What?”

He sighed and asked you to sit down.

“J.J, look we love you, we do so much. We never knew you felt this way--”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“--but it’s about time we learn to understand. How about this, you come back with us to the bunker--”

“No.”

“--look hear me out. Give us some time. Just some time to try and figure out how in the hell we can try to fix you.”

“What if I don’t want to be fixed?”

He paused.

“Well tough luck J. You’re the only good thing in our lives and we ain't letting you go that easily. Just let’s make a deal. You come back with us, hunt with us and give us a little bit of time to figure this out. But the moment you start to feel like you're suffocating or were on your ass too much, you can leave. No questions asked. Plus Y/N/N, you’re one of the best philologists around. No one knows languages better than you do. Could use your help.” he nudged your shoulder and used that damn smile of his.

You thought about it for a moment. Didn't sound too bad. Hunt, have an actual place to stay, with two handsome devils like the Winchesters. Hmm, guess it couldn't hurt, for a while. You took a deep breath.

“Fine. But as soon as I feel any kind of pressure or anything, I'm Houdini'ng outta there, capisce?”

“Perfect.”

You both exited the room while Dean leaned against the car.

“I just have to go get my truck.” Sam nodded and walked to Dean.

“So what, she leaving?”

“Uh no. She’s coming with us back to the bunker until we can figure all this out.”

Dean straightened his posture.

“Really? How in the hell you’d manage that?”

“Negotiating. But--”

“Oh no, there's a but?”

“--yes a but. We can’t treat her like we have been.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like a child. Well mainly you.”

“What do you mean mainly me?”

“Dude you've been treating her like a kid ever since her parents died. You’ve been acting like a parent, so she wants to make sure we give her, her own space.”

Dean contemplated on this thought for a moment. Has he really been treating you like a child this whole time? You thought you were just his kid-sister? If anything he was trying to hint at you just how much he cared for you. Well, this time he wouldn't ruin his chances of making you his. Completely.

“Well, good. I guess this is a sign of my second chance.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah dude, maybe this time she won't get taken or totally reject you without her soul.”

“Shut up.”

You pulled up by them in your 1987 black Chevy, almost a truck form of Baby.

“She still got the power she had last time I saw her?” you said with a raise of an eyebrow.

“Oh, sweetheart she never lost it,” Dean said as he got in the driver’s seat.

“There's a little diner little ways up the road, how about a little race for old times sake?” You knew since you had no soul, there would be no guilt or no sorry’s, so you knew doing something you both always did when you wanted to fix a problem between you two.  Dean smile grew as wide as the Grinch’s and you knew his answer.

Once you made it to Pete’s Diner, Dean got out the car, smile brighter than your future.

“That was bullshit,” you said with a laugh.

“No sweetheart, that, that was real racing,” he put his arm around your waist and smiled, “Maybe next time we need to race for something better than diner food,” He winked and you smacked his chest.

When you entered the diner it was partially empty. Nothing but sleazy teenagers causing commotion throughout the quiet restaurant.

“Remember when that was you?” Sam said as they took a booth.

“Ugh, don’t remind me, please. I’ll be right back.” You went to go wash your hands and as you were walking back to the table you noticed the blonde waiter smiling a bit much for taking an order. You took a seat at the bar a little past the table so you can tune in the conversation.

“How can I help y'all?” she asked sweetly. She stared intensely at both men and you immediately took notice.

“Oh, what’s the special?” Dean asked.

“Well, we have a delicious vanilla creme pie up today,” she said as she mildly grazed his forearm. She turned to Sam.

“Or we have a very good deal on our tall, sweet lemonade that tastes...real good,” practically moaning, she made sure to put an emphasis on tall and sweet.

Sam raised his eyebrows at how forward she was being. You, on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn about this floozy. You scoffed as you began to see Sam getting uncomfortable. You walked over to the table and she looked you up and down.

“Well, to see as much as that failed, and how much I would’ve absolutely loved to see how it would play out, might wanna try your luck somewhere else sweetheart.” you patted her on the back and she turned to you then walked away quickly.

“Damn, J,” Dean said as he licked his lips.

“What? Well, while y’all was practically getting groped over here, I found us a case.”

“Already?” said Dean. You looked over at him then Sam.

Sam knew that look, the look of annoyance. Sam looked at Dean then cleared his throat.

“What is it Y/N/N?” Dean looked at Sam as if to say ‘what the hell dude?’ but Sam knew even the slightest bit of anything would make you go.

“Well there was a supposed ‘suicide’ over in Missouri, says the girl’s ex-boyfriend got a call from her, her whispering some kind of language he couldn't make out into the phone, screamed and then the call went out. I figured maybe we go over, have a look-see, listen to the recording, see if it’s our thing.”

The boys both nodded to each other and continued to eat while you looked more into the whole ordeal.

After the meal, you all were heading out when the boys noticed you weren't behind them. They turned around to see you get one piece of cherry pie for the road, as you always did for Dean when you were about to head out for hunts. He sighed as a dorkish smile crept on his face while his cheeks turned pink.

“Wow,” Sam said.

“What?”

“Nothing just, you still love her huh?”

Dean didn't hesitate, “You know I do man,”

It felt so good to have you back and to have you treat him like you always have. But he wanted more. However, he knew deep down inside he couldn't let any feelings get out cause he knew it would mean nothing. But he made himself and you a promise; he was going to get your soul back, return it to you, and tell you everything he should've said six years ago.

How much he loved you, and how he needed to make you his, once and for all

Tags:

@ahy23 @abigayle19 @notcutejustme @deansgirl1985

[thevioletcaptain]

So hey, remember that time when we found out that Dean had made Cas a mixtape?

Because I sure do!

Now, I’m not saying that I’ve thought about this moment every damn day for the past six months, but I’m not not saying that either >_>

Anyway. 

I’m sure someone has already pointed out that Led Zeppelin, while being Dean’s favorite band, have also been repeatedly used within Supernatural canon as an example of what you play for someone if you’re interested in them.

Countless hunters tried to win Jo’s attention with “side one of Zeppelin IV.”

When they first met, John’s knowledge of Zeppelin lyrics impressed the otherwise disinterested Mary.

Nick the siren used Led Zeppelin trivia to make Dean like him.

In short: Led Zeppelin is shorthand for seduction.

There’s a good reason for that, too. You’d be hard pressed to find more than a handful of Led Zeppelin songs that aren’t sexual or romantic... or blatantly about Lord of the Rings, but that’s another topic altogether.

"I put a lot of work into my lyrics. Not all my stuff is meant to be scrutinized, though. Things like "Black Dog" are blatant let's-do-it-in-the-bath-type things, but they make their point just the same. People listen."

- Robert Plant in an interview with Cameron Crowe for Rolling Stone back in 1975 (this article also has a little bit about how Jimmy Page lived in a house originally owned by Aleister Crowley, which tickles me for obvious reasons)

I fucking love Zepp. I’m that asshole with the complete collection on vinyl and CD for good measure. So, with that in mind, under the cut is a list of all of their songs sorted into their respective topics.

Why am I doing this? 

Because Dean carefully selected thirteen of these songs. He picked out his absolute favorites, and he spent hours--because that’s how long mixtapes take--planning and putting this tape together. 

He did all of this to make a tape for a guy who has not shown a single speck of interest in music in years, who listens to talk radio in his stolen car, who most definitely did not ask him for some recommendations.

Dean made a mixtape using the show’s shorthand for seduction, and he gave it to the guy he recently described as devastatingly handsome. 

The guy whose sex life he’s always been weirdly hyper-focused on. 

The guy whose absence he reacts to with a level of desperation that is entirely overblown in comparison to Sam’s.

The guy who managed to meet every set of eyes in the room but Dean’s when he said “I love you” as he lay dying.

Dean made Cas a goddamn mixtape, and I want to figure out just how suggestive that mixtape must have been.

Songs about sex/lust

Bring It On Home - The gist of this one? “I know you’re sleeping around, so I’m gonna do you extra good to make sure you don’t ditch me”

Candy Store Rock - Most of this song is utterly filthy. There’s a lot of thinly veiled oral sex metaphors involving honey.

Whole Lotta Love - Look, Robert Plant wants to give you “every inch” of his love. There’s not a lot of subtlety here.

The Lemon Song - There’s no two ways about this: the lemon is his dick

Custard Pie - Take a wild guess what “custard pie” is referring to. Go on. Guess. G u e s s.

For Your Life - Mostly about a friend with a drug addiction, but it also contains references to that often-repeated “lemon” metaphor, so it’s goin’ in the sex pile.

The Wanton Song - The line “Took my seed from my shaking frame“ says it all, really.

You Shook Me - About being “shook” all night long. Again, the metaphor is paper thin here.

We're Gonna Groove - All about getting some of that all-night-lovin’

Hots On For Nowhere - Half about feeling hopelessness encroaching with growing old, half about using sex as self medication.

Hot Dog - about missing a lost love and hoping to hook up with her again.

Carouselambra - Though it also has nerd elements (as most Zeppelin songs do), this is about having almost sleeping with someone, but being denied.

How Many More Times - Who can say “a gun is a phallic metaphor”?

Houses Of The Holy - Despite all the talk about sowing seeds in someone’s garden, this song is not about flowers, friends. It’s about sex.

Rock And Roll - Guess what? Rock and roll is a metaphor. For sex. Shocking.

Royal Orleans - About that one time when John Paul Jones had a one night stand with a drag queen who accidentally set the hotel room on fire by getting into bed with a lit joint. So, sex. Again. (And irresponsible smoking choices, apparently.)

South Bound Saurez - About sex. Hot sex, specifically.

The Crunge - To me, this has always seemed to be about a girlfriend suggesting they have a threesome with another man. YMMV, but at any rate it’s definitely about sex.

Trampled Underfoot - This is a song that uses car parts as fairly explicit sex metaphors.

Traveling Riverside Blues - Again, this is purely about sex. It is also one of Dean’s canonically stated favourite songs, so it’s definitely on the tape. Good times.

Wearing And Tearing - This one is basically Zeppelin’s answer to “sexual healing.”

Misty Mountain Hop - Aside from the obvious LOTR reference, this one is about a love-in that got busted by the cops. It’s got some of this band’s more low-key sexual lyrics, but they’re there all the same.

Songs about love/romance

Baby Come on Home - About missing a lost lover, and being desperate for her to come back.

Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You - This one is about Plant having to leave a woman who made him happy because of the life he leads. [stares into the camera]

Achilles Last Stand - Ostensibly about Plant’s travels through Morocco, Greece, and Spain, and inspired by the poetry of William Blake, the story told in the lyrics is super wistful and romantic.

Black Country Woman - Subtitled “Never Ending Doubting Woman Blues,” this one is about a woman who says she loves him but doesn’t stick around, and how much that hurts.

Hey, Hey What Can I Do - All about the frustration of being in love with someone who won’t commit.

Friends - Written after Plant had what he describes as a “massive argument” with a friend, this song is about needing love.

Heartbreaker - Literally what it says on the tin: about being heartbroken.

Good Times, Bad Times - About having bad luck in past relationships, but being determined to make a new one last.

Going To California - Apparently this song was originally about an earthquake, but as they wrote the lyrics it turned into a song about searching for love.

I Can't Quit You Baby - This is about loving someone despite knowing they are bad for you.

I'm Gonna Crawl - About loving someone so much that he’d crawl to be with her.

In The Evening - About how love makes pain bearable.

In The Light - About being there for the person you love, and “sharing the load” they bear.

Over The Hills And Far Away - Though this is Hobbit-influenced, but it’s about wanting the woman he’s with to know that his past loves don’t matter anymore.

Out On The Tiles - About wanting nothing but the company of the person he loves.

No Quarter - About moving toward a dreamed-of future with someone, despite the odds stacked against them.

Kashmir - Trying to return to a place of truth and knowledge, and wanting to take someone he loves there with him.

Ozone Baby - A cynical song about a “true love” that has kept him waiting

Ramble On - Another LOTR reference song, but again the reference is secondary to the main subject, which is looking for a lover. Also, one of Dean’s canonically stated favorite songs, so it’s definitely on the tape.

Tea For One - About the loneliness of a life on the road, and wishing he could be back with a woman he left behind.

Ten Years Gone - A wistful song about losing touch with a past lover.

Thank You - About Plant’s love for his wife, and how she inspires him.

That's The Way - Supposedly about the environment (I side-eye that explanation pretty hard) this is one Zepp song that has honestly always sounded like a super sad queer love song to me. The lyrics seem to be from the point of view of a young boy whose mother has told him he’s not allowed to play with the boy next door anymore because of what people are saying about them, and how upset he is about this. Like… this is a very sad and gay song, okay. Environment? Pfft. Maybe the young queer environment.

The Rain Song - About finding the kind of love that he never expected to find.

The Rover - A wanderer missing someone he left behind.

Walter's Walk - About heartbreak over a failed relationship.

What Is And What Should Never Be - About a love affair.

Your Time Is Gonna Come - Being hurt by an unfaithful lover.

Communication Breakdown - About wanting to tell someone you love them but they just don’t get it.

D'yer Mak'er - Essentially, the lyrics here are begging a lover to stay.

Dancing Days - Summer loving (having a blast!)

Darlene - Darlene is paying attention to everyone but him, and he wants her. Badly.

Dazed And Confused - That feeling of being so in love that it’s like being under a spell.

Fool In The Rain - A story about a man who think’s he’s been stood up by a woman he cares about, but it turns out it was just a misunderstanding about where they should meet.

Four Sticks - About the agony of hiding your true feelings for someone. [more weak laughter]

Since I've Been Loving You - About being afraid that the person you love doesn’t love you back.

Tangerine - Ah, the sweetness of new love!

Celebration Day - This is about happiness and New York City, according to Plant, but it also seems to be about a woman hoping for a future with someone. 

All My Love - Contrary to popular belief, this isn’t a “love song” in the strictest sense. It’s actually a tribute to Robert Plant’s son, who passed away while the band was on tour in 1977. That said, lyrically it does contain a lot of distinctly romantic-sounding lines, and is a common “love song dedication” on the tacky radio shows I sometimes listen to.

Songs about random other topics (or nerdy shit)

Night Flight - Written about a man who dodges a military draft.

Nobody's Fault But Mine - What it says on the tin: taking responsibility for mistakes.

Boogie With Stu - This song is just improvised nonsense that borrows lyrics from an old Richie Valens song. There’s not a lot of depth to this one. 

Bron-y-aur Stomp - About Robert Plant’s dog, Strider (yep, that’s another sneak attack LOTR reference)

Gallows Pole - A song about a man who is trying to convince the hangman to delay his death as he waits for his friends and family to rescue him. 

Immigrant Song - This was written after the band had been to Iceland, and is mostly about explorers and vikings. 

In My Time Of Dying - About the fear of wasting a life, and hoping that he’ll leave something good in the world when he dies.

Livin' Lovin' Maid (she's just a woman) - Apparently about a particularly obnoxious groupie that followed the band around in their early days.

Poor Tom - This is a story song about a man who kills his wife after she cheats on him.

Sick Again - Basically about feeling pity for groupies. Kind of a gross song, tbh. As much as I love this band’s music, the misogyny gets pretty bad in a few songs. 

Stairway To Heaven - Plant says this song is about “a woman getting everything she wanted without giving anything back.”

The Battle Of Evermore - About the endless battle between good and evil.

The Ocean - About music, fans, and a little bit about Robert Plant’s daughter.

The Song Remains The Same - About the universal nature of music.

When The Levee Breaks - This is a cover of an old Memphis Minnie McCoy song.

St. Tristan's Sword - Instrumental.

Down By The Seaside - Instrumental. 

Bron-yr-Aur - Instrumental.

Moby Dick - Instrumental.

Black Mountain Side - Instrumental.

Bonzo’s Montreux - Instrumental.

So. With all of that laid out... there are 61 songs about sex/love/romance, and 21 about other topics. 

Two songs that we can safely assume are on the mixtape are Ramble On (love) and Traveling Riverside Blues (sex), as they are Dean’s named favorite songs.

This leaves eleven spaces open. Sure, it’s possible that all eleven of those songs come from the “other topics” list, but honestly... six of those songs are instrumental, and therefore probably not on the favorites list of a guy who loves singing along, and about half of the remaining songs in that group are generally considered Zepp’s less impressive work.

Statistically speaking, Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx are far more likely to be a sexy, romantic bunch, and this is the gift he insisted Cas keep.

All in all, this has been a largely pointless exercise. I already knew that there were far more Zepp songs with sexual or romantic lyrics than not. But it’s nice to have those numbers there.

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 4X15 Death Takes a Holiday

ok so I know Cas is in this one, so I'm excited

oh boy please tell me they actually explain what happened with the sirens, please talk to each other, please

huh this is a pretty normal crime all things considered

he got possessed didn't he

should I clean up and get Ready for bed? yes but also I'm tired

"nobody's died in the past week" hm

a ~miracle huh?

hey at least Dean's salty enough to mention it, thank god

finally, he got SOME self respect, thank GOD

look I know it's not a lot, but it's something

"how do you explain it" oop

the "I wouldn't expect y'all to understand but angels are watching over me" ahdohsfia'

listen Dean thinks the angel is hot, leave him alone

oo reaper on strike is NICE

HUGGYBEAR

I love the huggybear comment I really do

"strange lives" oooo dean's unlearning, you love to see it

NatuRal OrDer

normal rules don't apply? oh SAM, that's fUCKED

"why us saved, why no on else" Dean's the compassionate one

boy they're both good at lying to themselves

and fucking terrible at lying, guys, oNE COVER STORY, ONE

Dean barely flinches at alastair damn

it's cool that the psychic stuff doesn't work on Sam

aww House MD reference, that one I got

at least Dean flagged the lie

Aw Dean does Disappointed Dad Face so well

ah seal

friEndly neIghBorhOoD reApeR

Dean is your plan seriously to die again

eyYY Pamela!

ASTRAL PROJECTION

poor Pamela is so Tired

I do like how Dean and Pamela seem to Vibe

CHACHI:

Someone who thinks they are a bit too cool... Generally the person who dresses a bit over the top and/or always trying to "one-up" someone else’s comments, whilst tending to overdo everything they try to do....

A guy that has let his nice physique and good looks go to his head-once that happens, all brain cells are non-existent.

A Chachi is a heterosexual male who could be charectorized as a metrosexual with a white-trash-won-the-lotto clothing style.

I CAN'T TELL WHICH ONE SHE WAS REFERENCING BAHAHA

ah she's saying dream

Chachi was Arthur Fonzarelli's vapid but handsome cousin on Happy Days (1974).

ah this

WHY ARE YOU TWO SAYING SHIT THAT CAN BE TAKEN AS FLIRTING WHY

oh nooo that kid is haunting his mom and no one believes her

BAHAHAH SIXTH SENSE REFERENCE

the watching his mom while they're all "dead" is WILD

THE REAPER FROM SEASON 2!! HOLY H E L L AHHH

yadayada the thing

Kiss thing

I appreciate how tumblr just made it UNABLe to type onto the post that’s HILARIOUS

I HAVETO COPY PASTE FROM NOTES BAHAHAH

ALSO YEE TESSA I LIKE THE CALLBACK!

Sam please don’t promise things you can’t do

the memory thing actually fucked with him! oh VERY nice!

and like…ok look I don’t like the weird romantic undertones but it’s interesting to see the reframing!

he got a second chance after doing HORRIBLE shit, it weighs on him

look that was an Interesting convo, that was cool

someBODY

nooo I miss Tessa

karate kid reference and THE KID DOESN’T GET IT AHAHA

aw boot camp with the smol, that’s so cute

they reference a horror thing!

FIGHT CLUB!!

this is so goddamn cute aww

and the weird uv ink only the ghosts can see is also rly cool

oop y’all got cocky

although ghost fighting was p cool still

AHAHA THEY’RE GHOSTS SO THE ROCK SALT WORKS

oh DAMMIT THEY FOUND PAMELA

DEATH!! DEATH LENT IT TO HIM!! FOUR HORSEMEN!!

(mention good omens at the end, the new AU)

seriously Pamela’s fucking cool

ah she woke sam up cuz she needed help

I do love how pam’s basically just “man, fuck y’all”

oh RIGHT she can’t die right now

Dean getting called angsty is just peak comedy to me

CAS JUST LIGHTENINGED ALSATAIR IN THE FUCKING FACE I LOVE THAT

CAS THERE ARE LESS DRAMATIC WAYS OF IMPRESSING YOUR CRUSH

oH! Castiel faked being Bobby, neat

“you seem to do the exact opposite” PFFT AHAHAHA

“you’re different” OOF

hey, not for nothing, but Tessa’s good at getting people to move on

“we’re all scared, that’s the big secret” OFAHISP OW WHY DID THAT HURT

he got some GOOD lines to work with these past few episodes

oh the mom feeling him being gone is a NICE touch

“you all lie to yourself” OOF OW

Seriously, dean is ISOLATED this season, but that convo was COOL

No right, yeah, you should blame them for this, this is their fault

“better placE” “lie” OOF

“fuck your good intentions”

aw a dedication

wrap:

I like what they did with death. Like the conversations were just. so painful. The thing about second chances, but bad shit is coming, and that we’re all scared, and Pamela catching the lie, because Dean meant it to be a lie and

look. It had a lot to say about death, and it said it quietly. it was good good, and I’m really glad they took time to do the tribute too

and when people say this show is sometimes good, this is one of the good. Some of it is good, some isn’t, but this was.

Dean just keeps getting isolated. Like can’t trust the angels, can’t trust Sam, can barely trust his own body. I love the Angst, but OUCH

good omens type beat. Ok AU where Bela Talbot gets out of her demon deal because GoodOmens!Crowley enlists her help to stop the antichrist(particularly the globetrotting four horsemen. And the ineffable husbands end up being her actual family, ft adam the antichrist, the good omens squad, and draco. Look. It’s terribly self indulgent but I love Chaotic Neutral, and it’s Chaotic Neutral Girl that Steals. Leave me alone, I want “Aunt Bela”

Also I want her to get along with Harely quinn

I love castiel. This fucker made a convoluted plan to go help humanity when no other angel wanted to, or was interested too. And he sent his crush in, that’s so cute

Like I love the “angel that loves humanity” thing, that’s so good

this episode got me thinking about good omens, leave me alone

[spnreactionblogging]

raising hell

SPOILERS BELOW 

okay I really learned my lesson last time about not typing this directly into tumblr so it's going into notepad first and then I'm pasting it over

I have angel's envy for the episode in general, which I will be drinking gradually as a special occasion just for S15 as it airs, and also devil's cut for this episode in particular because I hear buckleming wrote it and I'm toasting to crowley and drinking that one if/when something fucked up inevitably happens to kevin

I'm SO FUCKING GLAD to see osric in this btw just like. I love him he's so good I'm glad he's back

I've tried to avoid spoilers but from what glimpses I've seen before I could glance away it sounds like maybe some meta shit is getting into territory I was also going into with the kevin/crowley/castiel fic I'm doing? so super intrigued to see where that goes but also not getting my hopes up because I fear the writing is going to drop the ball

I love meta shit though I'm so here for it, I gotta double back for time travel shenanigans in Lebanon

okay anyway let's start

oh and apparently rob benedict had a stroke a while back?? and i'm so glad he's all right, here are the signs of a stroke if you need to refresh because you really ought to know what to look for https://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/03/too-young-to-have-a-stroke-think-again I had this open in a tab from someone totally different on twitter

I like the "road closed" sign we start with because it seems thematically on point for like... shutting down the infinite potential of stories as they are not done being told, and as all those doors close

it's not a buckleming episode unless it starts off with gratuitous violence against women

the amazon subtitles are spelling it "benzine" [sic] and it's pissing me off

I love jared playing sam playing an FBI agent who's nervous about delivering speeches

crams all this sam and cas footage into my mouth

I don't believe "belphegor" at all but I love seeing alex playing this part

this implication that belphegor has teamed up with a hunter previously.........

pretty impressed with these townspeople actually? their concerns are not unreasonable and they're right to be skeptical

pffffff at this parallel of sam addressing the living crowd vs jack the ripper addressing the ghost crowd

the makeup on the ghosts is pretty fuckin good, I like the wardrobe and hair too

I like the fake posters at the school for various fictional sporting events

castiel continues to have a conscience and I adore him

rowena "am I interrupting something juicy" eyes emoji

ruth is pretty fun, I like her necklace

I like that ketch literally has a gun that just kicks spirits out of people. like. ...why haven't they been using this technology the whole time. guess it's an endgame weapon.

hahahahha an attractive female demon named Ardat. ................me @ homestuck like oh Ardata got it

this is the first time i've seen adult amara? it's bizarre to see characters I've only heard of

dude's right to be very upset and worried about his neighbors and cas should tell them what's up honestly, I see sam's point about not inciting panic but on the other hand :\

no idea where this arthur/rowena thing is going except I do I guess

I really, really like castiel's take (which is also sam's take from the last episode) that even if their lives were written by chuck, their experiences still mattered, and are not rendered worthless because of external circumstances about how they came into being

are people seriously doing a "THIS IS A DESTIEL MOMENT" from this? like. i guess.

also i hate that cas is having to apologize for "dropping the puck". he didn't. fuck off. he didn't drop the ball. dean didn't give a shit about felix being killed anyway so what the fuck.

misha and jensen both have excellent delivery though

I do like seeing dean play off ketch and belphegor and rowena, it's a nice change of pace

dude these stunts of getting thrown into a wall or a shelving unit like I realize they're stunts but OUCH

ahhhhhh that's kevin i hear osric's voice

kevin got the other ghost to go away by yelling at them lmaooooo I love him so fucking much!!!!!

so we're gonna retcon that kevin has spent the last what, four??? four fucking years? not in heaven, but in hell or purgatory or just wandering earth? remember how a year on earth is forty years in hell?

I'm glad I specifically have the devil's cut to drink to kevin getting fucked over because I'm already enraged

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 1 **

god he's been on the screen for less than sixty seconds and he was just never sent to heaven because god lied, I'm so glad I have bourbon for this. fucking buckleming, how do they keep getting put in charge of kevin episodes

I got up to get my kevin keychain to watch the rest of this episode with I'm so mad holy fuck I'm so mad, it just never stops

the amazon subtitles: "the vegetables and herbs are finely chopped and added to a SEXY pastiche of fragrant tripe"

thinking emoji, did you mean zesty....

I took like a 30 minute break because I was so mad just now about kevin being denied access to heaven like fuck you

the break was so long that amazon timed out, goddamn it

oh so we can't get kevin into heaven because god's not around to make an exception and god hates the winchesters and how god feels about the winchesters extends to their surrounding "friends" and family. amazing. this is bullshit.

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 2 **

"whiny kevin tran! typical millennial." he should whine more. he has every right to be furious

also amazing that bobby and john manage to stay in heaven, and chuck didn't cast them down to hell along with mary out of spite when this all went down? so like... why not kevin. AMAZING!!!!!!

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 3 **

sam has the dignity to actually look concerned instead of just annoyed

oh I like sam being linked to chuck lmaooooo

I do love this shot of a bunch of ghosts just hanging out in some suburban kitchen.

osric is so handsome I'm so glad to see him on this again

"you know how the hellspawn are, all they talk about is sam and dean, sam and dean" maybe the only time jack the ripper has been right about anything

not a fan of this extremely heteronormative bullshit courtesy of buckleming

also left-brain/right-brain is basically a lie isn't it

this fucking music. I'm so sick of buckleming

like I would be fine with this if it had been written by literally anyone else but this is the worst shit, nobody flirts like this

the road is "FAIR WYND", that's the cousin of zack fair and cid highwind

she hooked up with jack the ripper briefly? weird flex but okay

oh kevin is now being held GHOST HOSTAGE because dean told him to go do some reconnaissance

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 4 **

also I paused on a screenshot that's extremely funny to me

oh I don't like hearing kevin screaming :(

drinking for kevin being tortured by jack the ripper trying to ghost-vore him

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 5 **

I'm also waiting for the ghostbusters containment thing to backfire and swallow him too

DEAN: you can see them, how many are there "BELPHEGOR": 100 at least, more keep coming

convenient way not to animate 100+ ghosts

oh ketch took off the fucking iron, or maybe it fell off when he was hurt?

good job rowena for real

CASTIEL: I tried to heal him, but it didn't work. I don't know why. SAM: You're probably just tired, Cas. We all are.

for fucking real the biggest sastiel mood is taking naps

also this is troubling

it's like legitimately weird to see them call an ambulance on this show? I guess since they're posing as FBI agents it's more feasilble but

SAM: I'm sorry, Kevin. I wish there was some way to make this right. KEVIN: Me too, but there isn't. And sometimes you just gotta accept that.

actually fuck you lmao holy shiiiiiiiiiiiit omg fuck this

I'm about to drink the rest of the kevin-designated devil's cut

"there's nothing to keep him tied to earth, he'll go crazy!"

hey what about y'know

his mom...........................................

I'm screaming

"I love you guys" osric I know you love them IRL but this is so unfair for kevin the character

I like alexander and osric in the same shot, that's kind of fun, I enjoyed their panel I watched

and there's him waving goodbye. this is so unfair. time to down the rest of this

** "DRINK FOR KEVIN" COUNT: 666 **

to kevin, and to osric

thank fuck I was already in the middle of writing fix-it fic, this is injust

I have such mixed feelings because I'm so happy to see osric back but like AT WHAT COST, the worst timeline

there's a finality to this too like he's not coming back after this unless there's massive all-cast-reunion episode at the tail end in a paradise party AU but I doubt it

goodbye Kevin, this sucks :(

I'm more motivated than ever to finish this fic

"Even on your best day, you couldn't force my hand." is a pretty good line

also negative space is not inferior or "backup vocals"? it's part of a composition

you fucking know what buckleming is that WE CAN FIGURE OUT THAT THERE'S A NARRATIVE PARALLEL ABOUT HER LEAVING HIM TRAPPED WITH HIS CREATION, WITHOUT YOU SPELLING IT OUT jesus christ

bluhhhhhhhhhh I liked the premiere a lot more

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 12x12 “Stuck In The Middle (With You)”

well THIS is some delightfully interesting bullshit right here

06:43

frankly i am not ready and i don’t think i will ever be ready

i saw some shit on instagram and i went from being “scared but interested” to HYPED and now i’m scared again

i just want cas to come out of this okay

like that’s what i’m here for, just cas being alive and loved (by dean. but also sam and mary)

-

06:48

*DEEP BREATHS*

-

06:50

mr ketch is definitely cute, in a murderous stephen fry kind of way

-

06:52

cas: “cheese isn’t a carbohydrate”

i guess cas read up on the ketchup vs vegetables debate

give me a nutritionist!cas au stat

-

06:54

cas: “sunrise special please”

CAS IS SUNSHINE

also flustered under mandy’s attention BECAUSE HE ALREADY HAS A BOYFRIEND

RIGHT

RIGHT???

-

06:55

guess sam’s magic wifi hair doesn’t work any more

-

06:56

what i have learned here is that dean is turned on by the smell of food

give me cas bathing himself in strawberry syrup before bed

-

06:57

obviously there’s something else going on but right now it kind of looks like mary’s uncomfortable with either a) using mandy as part of a plan, or b) dean instructing his boyfriend to go flirt with someone else

edit: probably more like uncomfortable that they’re trying to make cas flirt and not focusing on the issue at hand

-

06:59

CAS SNIFFING PEOPLE

OH GOD CAS YOU’RE SO INAPPROPRIATE AND SO UNAWARE OF IT

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

sidenote, cas was the only one who didn’t get screentime when mary asked if everyone understood the plan

-

07:01

DEAN: “MY SHY BUT DEVASTATINGLY HANDSOME FRIEND”

OKAY THAT’S CANON

GUYS THAT JUST HAPPENED DEAN JUST DESCRIBED CAS AS DEVASTATINGLY HANDSOME

CONTEXT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE THOSE WORDS CAME OUT OF DEAN’S MOUTH

-

07:03

dean: “when do you get off?”

mandy: “whenever i can”

woooowwwww go mandy

also i’m so concerned for cas right now DID HE CONSENT TO BEING USED AS A HONEY TRAP I DON’T THINK SO

HE HASN’T SAID A WORD ON THIS

edit: mandy wasn’t even part of the plan ?? i’m ????

-

07:05

DID I JUST SEE A BLACK GUY DIE FIRST

///SQUINTS REALLY HARD

-

07:06

and then a white guy BUT THEN THE (asian? native american?) LADY

AAAND WE’RE BACK TO ZERO REPRESENTATION

WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ARE THEY ACTUALLY KIDDING LIKE

DO THEY EVEN SEE THE ISSUE

DOES ANYONE MAKING THIS SHOW EVEN REALISE WHAT THEY’RE DOING

fuck 

y’know i’m just gonna have to let this go right now because i can’t even comprehend how ferociously problematic this show is

i just wanna enjoy it for my fave characters and i can’t do that unless i bundle the problems into a box and forget about them for now

-

07:09

still thinking about it though

this is trump’s america, where problematic bad things happen so often and with zero time to process that you just get to the point where it’s like “oh great another social apocalypse, must be thursday”

-

07:12

“the wounded angel” // “earlier”

i feel like i’ve watched a movie like this (certainly a lot of tv show episodes clearly all based on the same source material)

pulp fiction or something idk

something bizarre and character-action-driven that doesn’t make a lot of sense until the end

-

07:14

AW MAN THAT SLOW MOTION WALKING SHOT IS GONNA MAKE A REALLY GOOD GIF

THANK YOU GABRIEL RICHARD SPEIGHT JR

-

07:20

IS THAT YELLOW EYES

WHAT

WHAT WHAT WHAT

-

07:21

nOOOOOO CAS 

NOBODY HARPOONS MY BABY AND LIVES

except dean, who stabbed him first, married him later

-

07:21

YYYEEEEEEE MARY SAVING CAS WITH THE CAR

-

07:23

and while mary and sam are talking about yellow-eyes, dean is smothering cas in kisses and magic healing tears, yes? yes

-

07:26

WOW WAS THAT FLIRTY LOOK DEAN GAVE DIRECTED AT CAS

I THINK SO

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE THO

-

07:26

i watched that bit again I THINK DEAN WAS SIGNALLING TO CAS THAT MANDY’S RESPONSE WAS A POSITIVE THING

aaaah the people who subtly and automatically support autistic friends are the best

also why is dean so determined to get cas to like other people?? CAN’T YOU JUST ACCEPT THAT CAS IS ALL YOURS AND WILL FOREVER BE YOURS

-

07:30

is this glowing yellow thing from the safe gonna be a hand of god or whatever

-

07:32

the men of letters are labelled as “hobbits” in mary’s phone

-

07:34

crowley arrives. “you idiots. you’re all going to die.”

@ people who voted for trump

-

07:35

mary: “touch me and i’ll kill you”

things everyone ought to say to crowley (and trump)

-

07:35

CROWLEY CALLED CAS FEATHERS

(quietly laughing bc bobby called cas that in my fic Lucid Nightmare which i posted yesterday cough cough shameless plug go read it if you haven’t already)

-

07:39

“name’s crowley, king of the crossroads”

DJFJGF THE CUCKOO IN THE BACKGROUND

(ba dum tiss)

-

07:43

ramiel (sp?) gives crowley the throne of hell

OH HEY LOOK AT THAT they just filled in a narrative gap that’s been empty for years

-

07:47

crowley: “hey, i was growing fond of the choirboy too”

was that a lowkey “cas is gay” joke??

-

mmmm yes give me dean so concerned about cas his voice goes all breathy

-

07:52

“three humans with one good liver between them, and a busted up angel”

:/

that team free will season 12 aesthetic

-

07:53

WHEN WILL THE WINCHESTERS STOP THE TRUMP ADMINISTRATION

THAT’S WHAT I WANT TO KNOW

-

07:55

okay but cas grunting in pain is kind of sexy in a way god help me

my faves being sick and dying is okay so long as they pull through and someone Cares About Them a lot

-

07:57

“the things we’ve shared together, they’ve changed me”

cas looks at dean when he says “they’ve changed me”

;a;

-

07:58

“i love you”

i cry

i CRY

CAS

and THE FACT THE REACTION SHOT IS ONLY DEAN

WOW

thanks richard speight jr that decision was an a++ decision

-

the slow zoom in on dean

i’m sweating

and shaking

help

-

08:00

............i just realised i’m watching this under the assumption that cas is getting out of this alive

DEAR GOD IF HE DOESN’T MAKE IT

OH NO

OH NO WHAT IF HE DOESN’T

IS THIS GOOD STORYWRITING AND DIRECTING MAKING ME WORRY OR IS THERE ACTUALLY A DANGER THAT HE MIGHT NOT MAKE IT

SHIT I SHOULD’VE CHECKED TUMBLR FIRST

NOW I DON’T WANT TO

HE’D BETTER FUCKING MAKE IT

MY HEART IS POUNDING I’M SO SCARED

-

08:10

THERE’S 10 MINUTES OF THE EPISODE LEFT, THAT’S ENOUGH TIME TO SAVE HIM RIGHT

-

08:03

“LIKE YOU SAID, YOU’RE FAMILY. AND WE DON’T LEAVE FAMILY BEHIND”

that look dean and cas share, cas’ eyes are wet

THAT WAS DEAN SAYING “I LOVE YOU TOO”

OH GOD

-

08:03

THEY ALL LOVE CAS SO MUCH THIS IS SO SATISFYING

SO MANY YEARS WE’VE ALL BEEN SO FRUSTRATED WITH HOW THEY TREAT CAS 

THIS IS GOOD

BUT HE’D BETTER NOT FREAKING DIE

-

08:09

black goop again

SOMEONE’S GONNA HELP CAS RIGHT

LIKE HE’S GONNA BE FINE RIGHT

PLEASE

PLEASE

-

08:10

C

R

O

W

L

E

Y

-

like i never thought i’d say this but

thank you crowley

thank you so, so much

oh 

god

i’m

dying

thank

-

08:11

I DEMAND THAT DEAN SMOTHERS CAS IN KISSES RIGHT THE FUCK NOW

-

08:12

i just

i want dean to go up behind cas and softly press his cheek between cas’ shoulder blades and wrap his arms around cas’ waist and breathe in deeply

oh god i’m so relieved

i can’t imagine what dean’s feeling

soMEONE CUDDLE CAS OH GOD HE NEEDS SO MANY CUDDLES

-

08:14

OKAY BUT

I JUST REALISED

what the fuck was all the stuff with cas flirting with mandy about

dean saying he was looking for “teachable moments”

DEAN YOU CAN’T TEACH CAS TO LIKE GIRLS

HE LIKES YOU, YOU HOPELESS LITTLE SHIT

i guess maybe that was the point of this narrative, cas will always choose team free will, dean pretends cas isn’t in love but GODDAMN HE IS

edit: or maybe dean’s not actually trying to make cas interested, he’s legit just trying to teach cas how flirting works, and what a positive response is?? and mandy just happened to be there and flirty. i mean, sure, i’ll go with that. quick question though, why didn’t dean just flirt with cas himself, like in all the fanfics, that would be better

-

08:16

mr ketch is kinda crosseyed

cute

-

08:17

CAS IS ONE OF MARY’S BOYS

HALLELUJAH

-

08:18

mr ketch is so fluffy-haired and cute i don’t know what to do

i hate him

but he’s smol

idk idk idk

-

08:19

wait wait it’s the colt

where was the colt supposed to be

heck

-

08:19

(real life interrupts)

ooh there’s lightning outside!! eee

the power may go out at any moment though, that’s the downside

IT’S MEANT TO BE SUMMER and all we’ve had is rain

(okay back to the show)

-

08:21

is that pellegrino!lucifer, i recognise the voice

-

08:22

yes it is

WELL THEN

-

08:22

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BOY

where to start

that was.... a lot of stuff

firsTLY CAS MADE IT OUT ALIVE AND EVERYONE LOVES HIM AND HE LOVES HIS FAMILY I’M SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA (actually no you probably know exactly how happy i am. if you’re reading this, you probably agree)

BUT LIKE

WOW THIS SHOW NEEDS A SELF-REVIEW ON NOT KILLING CHARACTERS OF COLOUR

mandy made it out alive, and she had a name, a speaking part, and a character, so that’s +1 for everything

BUT... look i don’t think i even need to say it again, it’s a Problem

(my thoughts: here, and here)

i’ve never watched any other show with such a huge fucking issue with this

that aside, i think i just need to mostly ignore that specific problem until they fix it, because if i just focus on the bad shit i’m never gonna wanna watch the show again, and the characters are really important to me so i’ll come back anyway

LET’S FOCUS ON HOW INTERESTING THIS EPISODE WAS

and how well-formed and well-paced it was

AND HOW CAS DIDN’T FUCKING DIE HORRIBLY

and how i was actually legit terrified for a couple minutes

physically sweating with heart pounding

that was cool

9/10 probably

still confused about mandy and cas, that wasn’t necessary. same with dean and the lady in the bar last episode. as much as i’d love to see the “i love yous” in this episode as romantic between dean and cas, they clearly were only meant to be 50% romantic, interpreted whichever way the viewer prefers. so the showrunners are maybe adding in sidenote heterosexual elements that objectively mean nothing, but for those who like to see tfw as HetroStraight (TM), the info is just... there. but it’s not possible eradicate the bisexual/demi-asexual loVEFEST THAT’S BEEN BREWING FOR 9 YEARS THAT’S DEFINITELY THERE AND IS DEFINITELY ROMANTIC AND HAS BEEN ALL ALONG AND WILL ALWAYS BE, DESPITE SNEAKY HALF/HALF MAKE-UP-YOUR-OWN-MIND DIRECTING AND SCRIPTING

to be fair though, i’m learning a lot about how creators get the best of both worlds. this is the Bipartisan TV Show. this is the same way donald fucking trump and kellyanne fucking conway and all the other politics snake people manage to fuck everyone over and not answer questions. they present both sides of the argument, each “fact” contradicting the other, and the viewer picks the one they agree with, and explain away the other argument however they like.

which, admittedly, i’m currently doing when it comes to seeing romantic destiel as ever-present, because it’s the only way this show doesn’t make me lose my shit all the time

but I SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING, YOU PRIME BULLSHITTERS, YOU

I SEE YOU

I’M NOT HAPPY BUT I’M GONNA KEEP TORTURING MYSELF REGARDLESS BECAUSE YOU’RE PRETTY GOOD AT THIS ~ENTERTAINMENT~ BULLSHIT

BUT I’M TAKING NOTES

[dreamychick]

Supernatural feelings 12x12

I strongly, STRONGLY suggest that you don’t read this if you like Mary Winchester. Because if you wanna fight with me or call me a hater I am beyond not interested. 

Supernatural episode 12

11 got deleted from my DVR and it's not on On Demand. Damn them

"How about you handsome." AHAHAHAHAHAHA She don't want you Dean. Everyone want's Cas.

"We've been looking for teachable moments."

"The internet here sucks." Poor Sammy

"Why is the upside to smell like food?"

"Screens down. Eyes front. Shut up." "Sorry mom." UUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH. No. Just. No to all of this.

*Castiel leans in and sniffs* YOU CANNOT SNIFF YOUR WAITRESS OMG CAS!!! I Know you're testing the smells like food thing but baby please.

"My devastatingly handsome friend was just wondering when do you get off." "Whenever I can." "Ayoh!"

"Everything is gonna be fine" *My baby dripping blood AGAIN. First words out of his mouth* "Where are Sam and Dean?"

"The demon who killed Sam Winchester. They're gonna tell stories about me." "Oh no they won't." Yeah, no way Dean was letting you kill his baby brother.

Poor Wally

Slow mo walk down the street? Why does Cas look like the only natural one walking like that?

"Urination I understand."

That demon literally elbowed Dean in the face to get to Cas

Can we stop torturing Cas please and let him get back to being a Bad Ass fighter and not just the one who constantly has to be saved like he's a damsel?

And Sam and Dean show up and Dean runs RIGHT FOR CAS and leaves Sam to ask Mary the questions

Why are we tarentinoing this episode?

Yeah, Mary is literally working with the men who tortured her sons. Nice.

So....Mary is using the Men of letters for their gear. Using her sons for backup all the while keeping everything she's doing a secret? Keeping left and right hands separate? Sigh.

"I think the Demon's spear was poisoned. I think I'm dying." THE LOOK ON DEANS FACE "No. No. You just need some time okay?"

"Sam. Sammy!"

Crowley! Welcome back

"What's up with feathers?"

Lance of Michael. That's probably so powerful

"I was quite fond of the choir boy too." "Shut up. Shut up." Oh man. Dean will break your neck if you insinuate that Cas will die.

"Help us or get the hell out of here!"

"3 Humans with one good liver between them?" .....Who has the good liver? Mary? Or Sam? We know it's not Dean. But then Sam doesn't drink really THAT much. But Mary hasn't been alive for that long, but she could have destroyed it quickly....I'm thinking Sam has the good liver. Which means, Damn Mary, get that shit under control. it took Dean YEARS to damage himself that far. It took you, what? Months?

"Cas come on." "No. You listen to me.Look thank you, thank you. Knowing you. I, it's been the best part of my life. And the things we've shared together. They've changed me. You're my family. I love you. I love all of you." IT PANNED TO DEAN BOTH FUCKING TIMES!! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT UNLESS IT WAS A DECLARATION!!!!!

"Cas No." "You need to keep fighting." "We are fighting. We're fighting for you." SAM MY BABY MOOSE YES

"And like you said, you're family. And we don't leave family behind."

OMG. No. Pause. Hang on. Cas and Dean are staring at each other throughout this whole thing. This WHOLE THING. And after Dean says that Cas looks like he's about to cry. He finally knows how much he means to him and it's to late. To late for him to do anything about it. To late to savor it. LIKE FUCKING RIP MY HEART RIGHT OUT. I AM CRYING SO HARD

And Sam. Fuck. Sam is NOT going to do anything less than kill anyone who would even touch Cas. Cas is his best friend. His BROTHER. And he will go down fighting for him just like he would for Dean.

MY HEART. MY FUCKING FEELINGS. So many. I have. SO MANY.

"You steal from me." MARY WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU TAKE?

And instead of admitting she took something she's just gonna let the time run down and not say a fucking word. She's going to endanger her sons after this fucking plan IS KILLING CAS and she's not even going to take the blame. She's just going to stay quite. And say nothing. DO nothing as this POWERFUL PRINCE OF HELL threatens to kill her children. Like, you don't value Cas' life. Fine. But your own children? You endangered THEIR LIVES for what? It better be a fucking way to murder Lucifer or take away all evil from the world or something if it is important enough to risk their fucking lives.

(Now I'm not saying she wanted Cas to get hurt or that she planned for it to be this dangerous. But the point is she is doing NOTHING while he tries to be reasonable. He may have let them go if SHE HADN'T STOLEN FROM HIM. Or even if she had spoken up and gave it back. He may have let them go because he doesn't care about anything except being left alone. he wasn't bothering anyone. he wasn't being evil or Malicious. He was fishing. Did he have a collection of powerful weapons? yes. But he wasn't using them. Or leasing them out for communal use either. He was MINDING HIS OWN BUSINESS. And you go in and fuck his shit up for the hell of it. Okay and you'll kill him somehow because, this is Supernatural. But you know what's gonna happen. His Sister, yeah she's still out there and she's going to want revenge. So I really fucking hope that this thing is worth Wally's life. YOUR FRIEND that you dragged into this. He was an innocent Mary. But fuck how scared he was. You used him. Just like you use Sam and Dean whenever it's convenient to you. )

Killed with his own Lance. Yup

Snap it in half. SNAP IT IN HALF. Don't just walk over it.

"Cas hang in their buddy."

"What do we do?"

THANK YOU CROWELY

"Cas." DEANS FACE

You got lucky Mary. You got SO fucking lucky. Because when Dean and Sam find out WHY they went on that little mission. And find out that you DID steal. And ALL of this was YOUR plan. And it almost got Cas killed? Oh boy. OH BOY. They're gonna be pissed. If he had gotten killed because of it? Oh you can say goodbye to them. They would not have forgiven that. Being as how he ALMOST died, you can probably be forgiven (By them. Never me) but even so. When they find out. You had better be ready to explain your fucking self and it better be good.

Dean and Sam Hands out IMMEDIATELY to help Cas up.

And as ALWAYS he looks to Dean first and then to Sam

And Dean pats his back as a little extra comfort

"What did he mean about somebody stealing from him?" "Who knows what that crazy man was talking about. Le'ts go home."

AND SHE STILL SAYS NOTHING ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

Listen I don't want to seem like I'm to harsh on her because all the Winchesters keep secrets and endanger each other on the regular, but it's always for selfless reasons. Saving each other secretly, sacrificing themselves secretly. What is Mary doing? I don't know but it feels like selfish to me. I could never endanger my kids. No fucking way. And you don't do it so easily. She leaves so easy. She uses them SO EASY. Like she still doesn't see them as her kids, but instead are just fellow hunters that she can use when she needs them for something. Bull. Shit.

"I lost a friend. I almost lost one of my boys." Oh. So Cas is one of yours now? You of all people after the way you've acted do NOT get to act all self righteous now. You knew the men of letters TORTURED SAM. And yet you still work with them. YOU KNEW what kind of people you were getting into bed with. You don't get to bitch about how unclean the sheets are now.

Closing thoughts

I may be hating on Mary to harshly, I own up to that. But these are my feelings and I'm allowed to have them. We have so very little woman on this show and this is what we're given? Have Jody become the regular or Donna or fucking hell even Rowena. At least she admits she's a think for herselfer, instead of pretending to be a good person and then just doing as she pleases. Jody is more of a mother to them than Mary. ELLEN was more of a mother. The two of them always having open arms for their return. Always there to listen. To help. To comfort and soothe. What does Mary do? leaves. Just. Leaves. And then only calls when she wants something. She doesn't call just to say hi. Or check up on them. No. She just calls to use them. And I'm sorry but that really rubs me the wrong way. And it pisses me off. John and Mary are literally the WORST parents. Like seriously. John in the end was at least trying to make up for it, too late, but okay let him try. Mary though, she's been given a second chance to be with her kids and what happens? She pushes them away at every turn. Do I think she wants to hurt them. No. Would she endanger their lives seriously. Again no. She does love them, in her own selfish way, but I feel like other things outweigh any motherly affection she might have for them. And if she stuck around for more than two goddamned seconds at a time she may realize how important they are and she'd be different.

Castiel almost died. And I blame Mary 100%. Like. Yes, Cas has been hurt for Winchesters before. Hurt for Dean. Hurt for Sam. But those were all HIS choices. He chose to sacrifice himself for them. For his family. For the mission. But this? He went in under a lie. She LIED to them. Endangered all their lives for a Lie. Let her friend be killed for a LIE. And it could have killed him. They were lucky. So fucking lucky that they were able to get the upper hand on A Prince of Hell. And they're lucky for Crowley's quick thinking. HE saved Castiel. He fixed HER mistake. And all she can do is yell at the Men of Letters? She didn't even APOLOGIZE. She didn't even try and comfort Cas as he was dying. She said and did NOTHING. Sam and Dean are saying encouraging things, telling him how loved his is and she said nothing. He is "Her boy" and yet you didn't even tell him, "Good fight." Or "Thanks for always keeping my boys safe." She said fucking nothing. And now, she says nothing. She hands over the Colt, one of the most powerful weapons of all time to The Men of Letters. The people who, once again, TORTURED HER KIDS.

That dying deceleration though. Cas loves Sam. That much is 100% certain. But you cannot deny that the way he was saying goodbye to Sam was different than it was with Dean. He didn't break eye contact with Dean except for a few seconds when he looked to Sam. But 9/10 he was looking at Dean. And after Dean said they were family, Cas kept looking in his eyes and started tearing up. That, broke my soul. Like, my heart cannot take it anymore. And even if you say, "Oh it's just because they're really best friends" That's fine, but the fact that Cas felt loved, cared for, needed, special and wanted, and that was only completely obvious to him before he was about to die really tore my heart out. He knows that he is family, just as he is about to leave it for good. He's always thought of Dean and Sam as his family, but to have them say it back, and mean it. He really needed to hear that. He needed it confirmed. And now he knows. He's a Winchester for life. Team Free Will. Together they can do anything.

This episode did a lot of things to me. Some of them good, some of them infuriating, but in the end I guess that's what makes a good episode. One that can make you have such visceral feelings.

[huntingpeople-savingsam]

Supernatural 12x15

Aww, they got me attached to the weird camping couple only to kill one of them :’(

Dean is covered in blood and guts and it’s lowkey hot af

Of course, Sammy has fancy shampoo

I like Cas being an FBI dude

“That’s why you’re here! The FBI.... Man in black.... well, y’know, beige!” omg

“Seriously, Sam, what’re you gonna say? ‘Hi, my name is Sam Winchester, this is my much handsomer brother, Dean... we hunt monsters. Oh, and that guy you were banging? We’re pretty sure he made a deal with a demon, so a hellhound came and dragged his soul to Hell, but you? You’re cool, and since there’s nothing around for us to kill, peace out!’” ... “You done?” I love these two

Very fair reaction, Gwen, I hope you don’t die 

GWEN, NO!

Okay, hopefully they’ll just tell her the truth now and be like, ‘yeah, so we lied, it’s a hellhound’

Feel free to hate but uh... I don’t care about Lucifer that much at this point and could do without quite honestly and if Crowley guts him this season I would fucking rejoice 

Crowley should hire some managers, like lower level demons than him and run Hell like a hierarchy so he doesn’t have to oversee all the deals

Although we haven’t seen any particularly bomb demons lately, other than Crowley

Good, they told her.

Crowley sassily providing the math lmao

I’m glad Crowley’s pissed that they sent his son to die (although do we really have confirmation that he died on the ship, or maybe since he knows about more shit now he went back and stopped both of them from getting on the ship and they became witches? Wishful thinking, I know)

KELVIN, HOT DAMN

I hope he turns about to be a fun new bud and not a dick angel like the past several dozen we’ve met

“When it attacked us... I did hit it... with an axe” 

DORK DEMONS, WHY ARE YOU GOING TO SEE LUCIFER

Fuckers released Ramsay?! Goddamn I’m not into these demons

“...Take care of her.” “'Course. Dean, look, even if Ramsay circles back, as long as we keep moving, Gwen’s gonna... be... just...you’re talking about the car” “You tend to ride the brakes.” OMFG I LOVE THESE BROTHERS

“Just imagine, she’s a... a beautiful woman.” “Oh, come on--” “A beautiful, beautiful woman.” “I’m done” “Sam”

“Okay, so you’re here for my hands?”

Joshua, like from the garden, Joshua?

Is Lucifer about to fuck these nerds up?

Yup.

“Sorry, kid, you understand, right? No... No witnesses or anything, y’know?” “Yes. Yes! Take me! Oh Fallen One, my life is yours to devour!” “...See, now you just made it weird.” omg

*Dean looking too hot, hot damn in those glasses* “Fancy. Really bring out your eyes.” omfg, Crowley

CROWLEY MOCKING DEAN IS HYSTERICALLY ACCURATE

“Maybe I’ve rubbed off all over you” “........eughh”

Aww Crowley singing while he’s walking with Dean and Dean’s just like ughh no shh

Sam looking handsome as hell and being comforting as shit to Gwen

DAMN FINE GUESS WORK, SAMUEL, YOU STABBED IT DEAD ON

Awwww, Gwen hugged Crowley <3

SAM AND DEAN BOTH HUGGED CROWLEY

“He [Crowley] seems nice.” “Yeah.” HE AGREED

CROWLEY, YOU CLEVER BITCH

I like Kelvin so far, I hope he doesn’t turn on us

Thank god, Sam’s being honest with Dean.

I’m glad Dean is going with Sam on this because I want them to be brothers no matter what but.... I fucking hate the BMOL.

fuck em