#this is about how dean and cas are disgusting when they are around each other

[kazuiislazy]

Hey can i request spn Michael x tribrid (angel demon witch) and demigoddess daughter of whatever god/goddess reader and him just kill for her because him have a crush on her and etc and happy ending between them.

“Kill For You”

A/N: I couldn't really write the tribrid part because i don't really know/understand how to write it.. (sorry). And also ooc Michael but yeah.. it's cringe and it's not proofread. You shouldn’t have been in this situation at all. You are the daughter of Athena for Chuck’s sake. So how exactly are you now bleeding all over the floor in the bunker? A certain demon had found out how to hurt or well, kill you. And shit did celestial metal hurt like hell. You were able to escape but the demon had managed to give you a serious cut. 

Leaning against the wall of the bathroom, you groaned. Sam and Dean were panicking, they had managed to bandage your wound but you were still practically bleeding out. When you heard the familiar flapping of wings, you assumed it was Castiel. “Cas, get your ass here and just heal me already,” you muttered without turning to look at him. 

Turns out it wasn’t Cas. “Cas, I swear to-” when you turned to look at the angel, it wasn’t Castiel. It was Michael. He tilted his head at you as if trying to rationalise how you’d end up in this situation. Both of you stared at one another in silence. Eventually, he walked towards you, and placed two fingers on your forehead. 

A ticklish sensation ran through your body– your wound was gone. You let out a deep breath. “Thank you,” you said. Michael was crouched in front of you, there was a sliver of concern in his eyes. “Who hurt you?” Why did he want to know? “Demon..” You were embarrassed to admit it but you didn’t want to lie about it. 

“Do you know the demon’s name?” You shook your head. Michael grimaced. “I’ll be back.” With that, you were left with a confused pair of Winchester brothers. They exchanged glances and gawked at you like you were a ghost. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. Sam opened and closed his mouth.

The three of you stared at each other. “You’re just going to ignore that?” Dean spoke. “Ignore what?” You were genuinely confused. “I dunno, Michael being all nice and protective?”Now you were even more confused. “He’s always like that..?” Sam’s eyes widened. “He’s always-” He was shocked. “He is not always like that.” 

“Well-” but before you could argue, the sound of flapping wings sounded again. It was still Michael. “I dealt with the issue.” Oh. “You killed the demon..?” He gave a firm nod. “Oh. Uh, thanks.” you smiled, at least you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. Michael handed you the weapon that the demon was carrying. “Thought you might want to keep this.” 

– 

That was a while ago, now here you are– happily in a “relationship” (if you can call it that) with the archangel. Dean and Sam still found it surprising and were in fact still very weirded out by this. Castiel was… well, uh.. also surprised? “G’morning,” you yawned. Dean was making breakfast. “Great night?” “Huh?” you looked down and you realised you were wearing one of Michael’s shirts (it’s not really his but lets pretend). Oh. 

“Uhm,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t even want to begin to know,” You flushed. Suddenly, you felt two hands wrap around your waist. You felt Michael place a kiss on the back of your neck. “Woah! Seriously, get a room,” Dean made a disgusted face and so did his brother. “Agreed..” 

[dotthings]

Anybody who believes that blatantly overt statements on queerness puts an end to antis being antis is wrong.

Misha’s very declarative statement resulted in homophobic antis tripling down on their denialism and their hatred.

Yet now…according to some in the Destiel lane, it’s all Jensen’s fault homophobic denialist antis won’t shut the hell up and go touch some grass. And that he deserves the hate he gets flung at him from the Destiel side.

Jensen is supportive. Some people just don’t want to listen. Including some Jensen stans, and any Jensen stan who bulldozes right past how supportive Jensen is to continue to invalidate or attack or hate on Misha for his support of queer Cas isn't a Jensen fan in my eyes.

And with some Misha stans, because Jensen doesn’t talk in the blunt way Misha goes, and his perspective isn’t exactly Misha’s, they fling accusations at him and deny his allyship. From Destiel shippers, what those people want is for Jensen to be a Misha clone. If it’s not just like how Misha does it’s not enough or it didn’t happen. They want Misha, not Jensen.

This ceaseless “why can’t you be Misha” attitude from some Destiel accounts is exhausting.

But also the erasure of Jensen’s supportiveness is a problem.

When it's from Jared stans, and even a few Jensen stans use these tactics, it's from an agenda of hate. They stick their fingers in their ears and pretend Jensen hasn't shown the support he has, and use him to validate their own biases and hatred and queer erasure and denialism.

Denial of Jensen's supportiveness is a tactic used by antis, including people who are anti Jensen.

Stop helping them.

Antis want to weaponize him against Destiel or queer Cas or queer Dean in ways that contradict how Jensen actually rolls. Or there’s the goalpost moving or downright lies antis tell to deny his supportiveness. Things like pretending Jensen wasn’t actually in the room while Misha filmed Cas’s confession and that Jensen himself didn’t tell us all how he was so caught up in the emotional power of Misha’s performance and the story that he forgot his lines or pretending Jensen’s visible enthusiasm for 15.18 displayed on con panels or an EW video interview didn’t happen.

Or Jensen and Misha showing each other fan reaction videos of the confession scene. Or Jensen asking a crew member to film him and Misha filming, so he could have that for posterity…but also because of fears of what might wind up on the cutting room floor. In the end, Cas’s “I love you” made it to air, despite the worries.

Misha, Jensen, Bobo, and Speight are the chief architects, makers, and supporters of the confession scene.

Jensen is currently the spn boss over the spn universe. Misha being able to speak more openly on CE con stages of late about queer Cas, instead of just on local comic con circuits in the US and Europe, and Misha saying whatever he wants about Cas’s queerness on social media, is sanctioned by Jensen, Danneel, and CMP.

Misha is doing this with Jensen’s support.

Jensen has protected people’s bi Dean lenses, and Destiel lenses, while antis shriek that it’s gross and disgusting and delusional and Dean absolutely cannot be anything except straight or it’s an abomination and if you say Dean is bi you’re evil. Jensen is the one who has enclosed bi Dean and Destiel in right to interpretation and has been respectful and mindful of the importance of those readings while antis wave hatred and homophobia and queer erasure and shaming of queer readings around in his name, and he takes the blame for it. I know his style of support isn’t considered "enough" to some but more blatant statements won't stop antis.

Which was just self-evidently demonstrated yet again.

The overt declarations, such as Misha’s, do not shut antis up and they are not there for antis. Stop making them about antis.

If you want to waste your time directly fighting with bigots over Cas and Dean’s queerness, hey you do you, but don’t turn around and then blame Jensen for the existence of the bigots.

And couldn’t people just, idk, appreciate what Misha did without making it about Jensen, without turning on Jensen, without the Jensen jokes, the Jensen accusations?

How about stop pulling attention away from the good of what Misha does because you’re salty about Jensen?

[dangerouscowboyfrog]

Ways I think Destiel could have ended because my brain likes to see me suffer.

Castilel telling Dean how he feels (you changed me etc.) and Dean just staring at him for a moment knowing what this means, what it always means, before moving in, kissing Cas like he never kissed anyone before. It's a short broken and messy kiss, but that's all they get, all they ever got. Dean holds on to Cas, aware of what happens next, what always happens. Cas pushing his love away, letting the empty tkae him to safe the men he fell for.

Dean not letting himself being pushed away, grabbing onto Cas like a drowning man would grab a plank. The empty slowly crawling towards Cas, so painfully slow and inevitable. "I can't loose you. Not again" Deans voice is rough and low, the tears he held back being set free. Cas shakes his head, another tear falling down. The last words the angel heard before they both got drowned by darkness were spoken with the softest voice Cas ever heard. "I love you too Cas. Of course I do."

Dean is in heaven. The way he went out wasn't really how he wanted to go, but when does a Winchester ever get what he wants? The hunter looked around, a smile appearing on his now younger face. His baby, his Impala was here too. The brunette walked to his car without a second thought, slowly opening the door. It felt wrong. Whenever he drove his baby there was always someone next to him. His Das, Sammy or- ...or Castiel. Dean sighed. With a heavy heart he gets into the car. Just when he wanted to start the motor, a familiar rustle of feathers was heard next to him. Dean freezes, not daring to look up, this can't be he can't face another fake Castiel he- "Hello Dean" Still frozen in place but now with tears falling freely on his cheeks. Slowly still not daring to look up did the green eyed man raise his head. A hand touches his face cupping it with soft hands and finally Dean looks up. There he was. The love of his life, his Angel his savior his best friend. The soft smile was filled with love and adoration. Deans hoarse voice cut through the silnce. "Dammit Cas... I thought I lost you I- I-", his voice broke away. Cas let go of Deans face pulling him into a warm hug. "I love you too Cas, I love you so so much I'm so sorry I couldn't say it I lost you I couldn't I-". Castiel listened. He whispered into the hunters ear that it's okay and that it wasn't his fault. They didn't break their hug for a long long time.

The empty appears lo ot out of nowhere. The black tentacles giving of a disgusting sound. Castiel pushes Dean away from him, away from the dangerous black goo. Just in time. Only moment later and the door is flying through the room, death rushing in. They stop dead on their way to their victims as they realize what's going on. Without giving death a chance to fight the black goo shoots towards them to grab and take them into the everlasting darkness. Castiel doesn't care about that, not breaking eye contact with the human on the floor. A last tear falls as the angel turnes around, facing the black goo, ready to go. But no tentacles reach out for Castiel. Nothing happens. After a few seconds, a head made of goo appears in the black portal. "You gave me something good Castiel. I may still hate you, but for this pleasure I will grant you freedom." With those words the portal closes. Castiel falls to his knees legs weak from the thought of still being alive. Dean slowly stands up, not sure what he should say. He stays silent. Castiel breathes slow and thankfull before he stands up with a painful grunt. He turns around slowly and looks at Dean with eyes that scream of forgiveness and love. They fall into each other a hug turning into a desperate kiss. They stay like this for a long time.

[shallowseeker]

ficlet idea time travel shenanigans

Blondie catches sight of Old Cas across the disgusting, oozing landscape, and a strange, animalistic relief contorts her face. It makes her seem like less of a crotchety old hunter and more like the hot chick she undoubtedly is.

“Jane?” Sam murmurs, because that dumbass kid brother of his actually believes that her codename is her real name. “What’s wrong?”

And then Blondie is taking off like a linebacker, her combat boots half-sinking into the muck and flinging thick wads of it when they kick up.

The light catches Old Cas’s eyes, and Dean sees that they’re surprisingly emotional—wide and terrified.

“Claire. No…”

His voice sounds it’s been run through a cheese grater more roughly than usual.

Jane-maybe-actually-Claire flings her whole body at him, but he doesn’t go down. He does cough a little at the force of her impact, which is concerning because the Castiel Dean knows doesn’t cough.

She pulls back a little, and she’s smiling, like smiling for real. She looks overwhelmed—the kind of overwhelmed where you can’t get words out.

Old Cas looks astonished, baffled, then filled with fear.

“Claire. I’m not,” and Old Cas swallows like he’s about to boil over with dread. “I’m not your father.”

Claire heaves a big sigh and rolls her eyes. “Gee, where have I heard that one? I know that, dumbass. And this sure as Hell ain’t Heaven.”

Sam’s got a crafty look on his face, and he meets Dean’s eyes like that big brain of his is pregnant with the entire Britannica. Dean doesn’t get the significance of that look.

Cas’s eyes go wider again. “Claire,” he repeats, and yeah—who’ve they’ve been calling Jane is definitely named Claire. “My Claire?” He shakes his head like he’s committed the worst faux pas ever. “2020 Claire?” he amends.

She smiles a private, pleased smile and gives a little one shoulder shrug. “2023 Claire,” she huffs, not meeting his eyes. “What about you? Are you him? From my timeline, I mean.”

She slips in the mud, and Cas’s hands come up to steady her shoulders.

“I mean, you could be any Castiel,” she rambles, panic seeping into her tone, “Couldn’t you.” She says this too, to his chest. “Like how those brats back there got nada to do with me.”

Old Cas studies her for long moments. “Yes, we are from the same world, though I left your timeline in 2020.”

How he knows that for sure is anyone’s best guess.

Still unwilling to look up, she bites, “What did you give me for my 18th birthday, then.”

“The Grumpy Cat,” he answers instantly, throwing a shifty look Sam and Dean’s way, like he’s nervous about them overhearing.

“It really is you,” she breathes, and then her arms go back up around Old Cas and she squeezes the ever-loving shit out of him. He looks awkward but pleased.

Sam throws Dean another one of his Significant (TM) looks.

“You’re Claire Novak, aren’t you,” Sam blurts, and the two freeze, before letting go of each other and turning to face them more fully. Sam and Dean slosh their way closer.

“Surprise,” she says dryly, velcroing her usual characteristic bitchiness back onto her face.

“More important than that, Claire, is why are you here?” Turns out Old Cas has a dad-voice, which is maybe weirder than him being on good terms with his dead vessel’s daughter ten years in the maybe-future.

“Case went bad,” she snaps, on the defensive. Definitely a hunter, then. At least that wasn’t a lie. Her anger fires back up again, “And where is here, huh? Cause last I checked, you’re dead.”

What. The. Hell.

Dean can’t help it. He’s furious. “What does she mean, dead? Dead! Dead dead?” He looks at Sam and finds him equally flustered.

“Dean.”

“No, Cas. Share with the damn class.”

“I’m certainly dead,” he confirms, like that’s not earth-shattering, heartbreaking news. “But I’m uncertain where we are. Before I ran into you two, I was trying to escape.”

///

[dcforts]

[monday 9: undercover]

Something went wrong.

Dean’s got his back against a wall and a knife at his throat and the girl that’s holding it seems like she knows exactly how to use it.

“Who are you?” she asks.

He raises his hands in surrender and kind of regrets ordering a sixth round on a hunt night.

“Hey, hey, easy now. I told you, I’m just a tourist.”

“Bullshit.” The hand that pins him to the wall presses deeper into his shoulder. “A bit too many question for a tourist.” He feels the cold blade press on his throat. “So tell me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m FBI. I’m an agent, undercover.” She’s still unconvinced. “See for yourself. Left pocket.” She slips a hand in his jacket, takes out his fake badge and holds it up towards the dangling lightbulb that lights the backroom of the pub they are in. Her confidence falters. She takes a step back and frees Dean’s throat from her knife. He takes a deep breath.

“So you’re an FBI agent?” she says as she hands him back the badge.

“Yes, and you just attacked me.”

“Sorry.” she says, but doesn’t sound sorry. “You are here about the missing people, right? Look, I know it’s gonna sound weird, but trust me on this, this is not your regular case.”

“How do you know?”

She looks hesitant for a moment, then says: “I hunt monsters. And I think what we are dealing with is -”

“Wait, you’re a hunter?”

“The FBI knows about us?” she asks bewildered.

“No, it’s - uh, I’m a hunter too.”

She tenses up and holds up her knife again. “You gotta decide what you are, dude.”

“No, I’m – I’m a hunter, I swear. I pose as an FBI agent to ask questions without raising suspicions.”

“Good job there.” She deadpans. “So you are a hunter, pretending to be an FBI agent, pretending to be a tourist?”

“Y-yeah?”

*

He and Castiel had rolled into that little town in Michigan that morning. They read about the people reported missing during their annual town festival and they are pretty sure it’s due to a wendigo waking up from his hibernation period.

The victims were all last seen at a pub conveniently surrounded by thick woods. The wendigo just had to wait for someone to come out after a rough night and without much effort drag them into its lair.

So Dean and Castiel had stepped into the pub three hours before, dressed as civilians, pretending to be tourists in town to enjoy the festival. 

And then… well, they- okay, Dean may have gotten a little distracted. It had been the cheery atmosphere, the people drunkenly singing at karaoke, the beers and - Castiel.

Mostly Castiel.

In only his white shirt, with his cheeks flushed, and the lights dancing on his face.

Dean had been painfully aware of their knees pressed together under the table. At one point Castiel had rested his hand on Dean’s forearm to get his attention and leaned closer to talk above the loud music and Dean had turned his head and kinda forgotten how to breathe so close to his lips and his eyes.

Castiel had blinked slowly and Dean’s heart had done things in his chest. He hadn’t heard one word he’d said and he is quite sure his mouth was hanging open. And for a moment, a tiny, hopeful, bright moment, he’d believed the night was going to end in a way that neither of them had planned.

At least, until he’d remembered that they were actually on a job and they were supposed to look for clues and ask around and only act as they were having a night out and not actually having it.

And that maybe this was all in his head, and Cas was actually doing what they were supposed to be doing and it was only Dean who was building up imaginary castles. Castiel was not flirting with him.

He’d wished he hadn’t told Sam that he didn’t have to worry and could stay behind for this one

Finally, he’s made an effort to pay attention to their surroundings. They’d talked to a few patrons and then stopped Denise, their waitress, to ask a few questions and the vagueness of her answers and the clipped tone in her voice had immediately aroused their suspicions. She definitely knew more than she wanted to let on.

So Dean had walked up to her when the pub was half empty and done his usual seductive dance – “Oh, really? That’s so interesting. Maybe we should talk about it later, say, when you finish up here?” complete with wink and all – and Denise had been easily convinced.

Only, well, cause she was playing him. 

She’d thrown him against the wall as he’d entered the backroom where they’d agreed to meet. 

*

Dean and Denise are still standing facing each other when the door slams and Castiel appears.

“Dean? I heard - ”

He scans the room and his eyes zeroes on the knife in Denise’s hand. Dean sees the glint of the angel blade sliding in his palm.

“Cas, wait.” he says, stepping between them. “It’s okay. She’s a hunter.”

“Oh. My apologies” says Castiel leaning on one side to look at her behind Dean’s back.

“You’re a hunter too?”

“He’s an angel,” Dean says at the same time Castiel says “Yes.”

She raises her eyebrows. “An angel posing as a hunter posing as an FBI agent posing as a tourist. Wow, way to complicate your lives guys.”

*

Denise has got a fair idea of where the lair of the wendigo is. They gear up with flamethrowers and silver equipment. Dean feels pretty good about this. He’s splashed his face with fresh water and he’s now sober enough to be able to tackle a seven feet humanoid cannibal. Just another day on the job.

As they are about to head out Denise stops Dean on the door. “He gave you away, you know that, right?”

Dean’s eyes flicker towards Castiel who’s just stepped outside the pub. He’s aware that they are still within angelic earshot.

“You mean the fact that the first thing he asked you was ‘Do you know any of the missing people?’ Yeah.” he huffs a laugh. “He’s still working on the interrogation side of the job. You know, thousands of years of ‘smite first, talk later’ do that to a guy.”

“No, I’m not talking about that. I mean, I figured you out because of him.” She studies his confused face as if she’s deciding if she should say more or not. At last, she takes pity on him: “You’ve been all over him all night, barely spared at glance at anyone else. Then you come chat me up at the end? Come on.”

Well, that is embarassing. Dean feels his cheeks burning. “Oh. I was - We are not -  ”

“Look, I don’t care. I’m just saying - if you go undercover as an available guy, don’t bring him.”

“I just - was it that obvious, uh?”

She just looks pointedly at him and then takes off without another world, jogging up ahead towards the tree line to lead the way.

Dean follows after a moment, falling in step with Castiel.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You heard what she said, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Castiel says. Dean doesn’t know what to add. Thankfully, Castiel does. “We were not... professional.”

“Yeah. Sorry. ‘t was my fault.” he says and it sounds like a confession. 

“It was my fault too,” he says with a quick glance in his direction. Then, after a moment: “Maybe we should talk about it later, say, after we finish up here?”

Dean stops in his track. What’s even happening to him?

“Did you just use my line on me? Are you chatting me up?”

Castiel stops too, a few feet ahead. He shrugs. “Did it work?”

“Course it worked, it always works. I invented it.”

“Well, then I look forward to this conversation.”

“Yeah. You should. It’s gonna be a very long conversation.”

“Good.”

“Get ready.”

“I am.”

Denise’s pissed off voice comes from someplace in the dark ahead of them. “Alright, lovebirds, what it’s going to be? You gonna help me or you gonna chitchat a little more?”

Dean and Castiel smile at each other and resume walking.

I am participating in the spnstayathomechallenge by @bend-me-shape-me @pray4jensen @helianthus21 

[solitaryearthperson]

Support (sequel to Comfort)

Summary: Waking up from a nightmare and not being able to go back to sleep, Dean heads down to his man-cave. (Y/N) finds him and comforts him.

(The reader uses she/her pronouns and is 18+. The ethnicity is any.)

Again it happened. Another restless night. It was a normal thing for him now, having these nightmares. It started when he was younger back when he officially started hunting, and its continued ever since. He wondered if Sam went through this too. He wondered if his little brother suffered from nightmares almost nightly and like him never said anything. I don't blame him, Dean thought to himself. What good would it do talking about the monsters we hunt in our nightmares? He knew deep down that it wasn't healthy to bottle all of this up, but he didn't know what else to do. He could talk about it but he's made it clear many times that he doesn't want to do any chick-flick moments, and he knows that's what it's gonna lead to.

I'm fine with this, he decided, taking another sip from his beer. After he woke up sweating from his nightmare, he decided that he was gonna go down to his man-cave or as he liked to call it, his "Dean-cave". He sat in an old school recliner facing a TV on the wall, looking at whatever was on. He didn't really care what was on, just as long as something was on. Just as long as there was no silence.

(Y/N) was already up before Dean. Not because of another nightmare, but more because she just couldn't really sleep. The bunker was a large place with many different hallways, and their rooms were somewhat far from each other, so when she heard Dean wake up from his sleep with a small scream all the way from her room, she knew something wasn't right. She waited in bed in silence, wondering about what he was going to do. She didn't want to bother him if he was going through something, but she also wanted to help if she could.

She tiptoed through the hallways, following his footsteps to his "Dean-cave" and waited outside the room, not sure when to exactly come in or to announce her presence.

"I know you're there, (Y/N)," Dean announced, taking a sip from his beer, his eyes not wavering from the TV. "What're you doing up, kid?"

"Nothing," she answered, entering the 'cave' and making her way over to the side of the recliner and leaning against it.

"Another bad dream," he asked looking up at her tiredly.

"No, I just couldn't sleep," she looked up to the TV and frowned. " You're watching a cooking show?"

Confused, Dean looked back to the TV and frowned in disgust before quickly changing the channel to a football game.

"You sure you're fine?" He looked back to her, worry clear in his eyes.

She nodded her head. "Yeah, I am." She hesitated for a second, not sure how to ask her question in a way that won't make him uncomfortable. "Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I heard you wake up. I heard your scream." He turned his head back to the TV screen and was silent for a while, leaving (Y/N) to awkwardly wait for his response next to him.

After a silent while, he spoke, "Don't worry ' bout me, (Y/N). I'm good, I'm fine."

His voice had a slight tremble to it and she wondered if he knew how it sounded. He kept his focus on the TV, but she could see him swallowing down whatever it was that was eating at him.

"You know I'm here for you, so is Sam and Cas. We're here for you-"

"Yeah, I know. I'm good. I just had a bad dream. That's all."

He took another sip from his bottle and began changing the channels on the TV, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing and she could feel the sudden shift in the air. She thought back to when she had her nightmare, how Dean told her to just cry it out and not worry about telling him what her nightmare was, and she realized what she should do.

She moved to sit on the arm rest of the recliner and slowly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gently embracing him and sitting her head next to his. She could feel him tense up for a second before relaxing.

"You don't need to tell me. Just know someone's here for you," she told him.

She could feel him take a deep breath before exhaling loudly and she glanced over at his face to see a tear slowly rolling down his cheek.

"Dean?"

"It's fine," he told her, leaning his head slightly against hers. " It's fine."

[fangirlingtodeath513]

Ayo this is unedited notes from Misha’s panel excuse the emojis (except for the one after Misha said “what are they gonna do, fire me?” because that one was warrented)

* Watching the finale was tough because it represented the end of a chapter of his life but he has a palpable feeling that the spn family isn’t going anywhere

* Favorite memory making a recipe w/kids and Vicki? Pasta with jam sauce 🥺 bizarre and totally disgusting 😂

* Projects in mind? Yes, worked a lot on US election which was pretty invigorating for him, plans to do more work on Georgia runoff elections. Publishing a book of poetry, close to closing a deal with a publisher for that. Couple of film projects he’s trying to get off the ground, one he wouldn’t be in or direct, other interested in directing and possibly acting.

* What do you think happened when Jack brought Cas back and what’s he doing? There was a different ending that COVID made impossible to shoot. Not supposed to talk about it but it was big crowd scenes. In the original iteration, he didn’t go to recreate Heaven, he had a different ending. Didn’t read the last two endings and watched them as they aired. Knew in the abstract what Cas and Jack’s fates were but he doesn’t really know what the answer is.

* What was West and Maison’s experience of watching Spn for the first time? They can’t watch scary things at all so they haven’t ever watched a full episode. West and Maison asked him to tell them when a scary part was coming up and Misha said “well unfortunately, I don’t really know”. Kids looked totally shellshocked at the cold open 😂 Spn may have been good for his career and the fandom but has irrevocably scarred his children

* Screencapping chat because they’re typing too fast 😂

* Will you go to Russia again? He’d love to but he’s said a lot of bad things about Putin so he might be arrested 😂

* What qualities do he and Cas share? Over time, the character melded with Misha and became softer and more sensitive and tried to do the right thing and be a good person.

* What’s the one thing you’ll take with you from playing Castiel? He thinks a lot. On a professional level, it was fascinating to play a character for so many years, (discussed recently with J2) the characters really became a part of them. Watching Dean’s death he cried, but because “that’s Cas’s friend Dean dying”. Cas will always be will him, an aspect of his being forever.

* What’s your favorite thing to bake with kiddos? Loves to bake pie, fave is strawberry rhubarb.

* He teared up watching 15x18 🥺

* Have other cast members disclosed what the original ending was supposed to be? Doesn’t want to be the one to reveal state secrets but “What are they gonna do, fire me? 😏”

* We saw a version of Heaven that was populated with all the people from their past. But they couldn’t do that due to COVID restrictions.

* Fave BTS memory from set? Don’t have one, they’ve been close friends for 12 years. They’ve had laughing fits, fights, gotten pissed off at each other, but some of his fondest memories of work are of Supernatural.

* Why did Cas’s trench coat stay intact? He can magically mend his clothing. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ When he went in, they wanted him to look like Constantine-suit was way too big, had to fold his shirt and tuck it because it was too big. He got a new suit at first which wasn’t explained, lost the tie and then brought it back, which wasn’t explained, and once season they just started him in a new wardrobe and said nothing 😂

* Stole trench coats from set, will probably wrap them around himself and cry at some point

* To get in the zone for Cas’s confession and death, he went and sat in a dark corner of the set and Rob Hayter stood guard over him so no one would bother him 🥺 and when they were ready for him on set, Rob would come over very gently and say “Misha they’re ready for you”

* How did you feel when you read 15x18? He knew that ending was coming for a long time, been talking to Berens about it, and was really happy about it. It was the ending he wanted for Cas. Felt risky and brave for the show to do and he was proud to be a part of that. Seen people complaining about bury your gays trope and he doesn’t feel that’s what happened with Cas’s ending. He’a glad Cas got to have that moment and he’s proud the show did that.

* Do you think you’ll get an SPN tattoo? Doesn’t have any, was thinking about getting some for his children. Should he get tats of Jensen and Jared’s faces? 😂 Get a tat of Cas’s face on his abdomen? 😂 Probably no tattoo re:spn for him but he totally supports anyone that does.

* The last scene he shot as Cas was the last scene of the day on Friday. He, Alex, Rich, and Jensen all had to get to Vegas for a con. They shot late into the night and finished around 1:30-very teary, Misha’s goodbye to the show- had to get a chartered flight to get there on time. One of the engines exploded and they had to circle back, plane was shaking, really scary. Texting their families, didn’t know if they were gonna crash land. It was such a strange night, super intense.

* He misses the pimpmoble.

* What non-hunter job would Cas be good at? Security guard, he never sleeps and never gets bored. Not a great teacher, architect, or artist. Handy in the kitchen, maybe a cook?

* What color are Cas’s wings? Shit, idk, I always thought they were black. Ah! They’re rainbow colored, how about that?

* When he was directing, Jared would take the canvas off his director’s chair and lay it over so it looked like a real chair and Misha fell for that probably 5 times. Jared kept messing up lines so Misha cut and went to see what was wrong and Jared pied him in the face. Jensen brought him another shirt with was nice, went for lunch and Jensen pied him in the face 🙄😂

* Real story behind the handprint in 15x18? He doesn’t remember but it was a really nice touch.

* Fave thing about panels? He and Jensen have had a lot of fun panels in Rome 👀 Brought up the resume-off 👀👀 Had pizza delivered to a panel once.

* Fave version of Castiel to play? Had fun playing Lucifer. Loved playing human!Cas, was fun to explore what it would be like. Just regular Cas was his favorite. Wouldn’t have wanted to trade regular Cas for any other iterations 🥺

[stratiotis-nth]

The few times Cas spoke about his true form, Dean had always imagined some terrifying robed creature with a bazillion heads and rotating rings and fifty giant wings from different animals. He imagined mighty beings that embodied the idea of God’s warriors. Cas once said his true form was size of the Chrysler building, and Dean had had to hide just how impressive the angel was despite looking and acting like a total dork. Cas as Cas was intimidating enough, but Castiel—the Chrysler-sized warrior of divinity—sounded terrifying and majestic all at the same time.

But apparently, Cas had omitted a few details. He had neglected to tell Dean that little bits of his true form lingered with him while he was in human form, some additions that couldn’t be seen but existed with him in another plane of reality.

So imagine Dean’s shock when he’s on a case and accidentally uses the holy fire glasses in his insurance company disguise. He didn’t even realize the difference until Cas joined him and Sam to help.

They were dealing with a Shifter who had been killing old people in a wealthy neighborhood in upstate New York. Cas, a fully functioning angel again, had offered to help when Sam and Dean realized they were up against a Shifter duo instead of a loner.

Sam was out getting grub when Cas appeared in the motel room with a whoosh of wings. Dean knew how much Cas had missed flying, and even he had missed hearing him announce his presence with that characteristic whoosh.

“Hey Cas.” Dean greeted without looking up from the laptop.

“Hello, Dean.” Was the usual response. He flicked his gaze up to Cas briefly, peering over the rim of the glasses he hadn’t bothered taking off. Dean did a double take when he caught a flash of black within the glasses’ lens. Frowning, he pushed the frames up his nose until he could squint through them properly. A sharp intake of breath caught in his throat.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice floated through his mind but he couldn’t process it. He stared at the Castiel revealed through the lens, abso-fucking-lutely floored.

A pair of black wings, ones Dean had only ever seen the shadow or scorched remains of before, were folded neatly against Cas’ back. As the afternoon sunlight hit the feathers, Dean could see them shimmering and reflecting all the colors of the rainbow subtly. The feathers looked spun of night sky and stardust, light as clouds but dense and powerful was cooling lava. Dean had a really, really strong urge to run his fingers through them. They looked like they’d make his fingers tingle with lightning.

Alongside the wings, the other newly revealed part of Cas was his halo. He had never mentioned one before, so Dean had just assumed halos were just another one of those things crazy Christians made up. But apparently, angels did had halos, because there was a thin ring of glowing light surrounding Cas’ head like a circlet, hovering above his ears and just a few inches away from his hair and forehead. It gleamed an ethereal pale gold, almost white, light. As he looked at it closer, he noticed a few gaps in the ring, like jagged cracks where pieces had fallen away. Were they supposed to be like that?

Dean was so shocked that he wondered how the hell he was even seeing these parts of Cas now. It took him a moment for his sluggish brain to piece together that he must had accidentally taken the holy fire glasses instead of another fake pair.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

He blinked, still taking in the halo and wings, and cleared his throat. Cas was frowning at him in concern, his head tilted adorably to the side. The halo drifted and followed a half second behind his movement.

“Uh—“ a strangled noise escapes Dean’s throat. His fingers itched to dig themselves into those feathers, to trace that halo and try to feel the warmth of light. He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Are there supposed to be cracks in that thing?”

Cas blinked at him, thoroughly confused. A split second later, his face both flushed and paled at the same time. Dean worried the sudden blood flow would make him pass out, but then he remembered Cas was an angel.

“Those glasses have been burned in holy fire, haven’t they?” He asked, his wings tucking more firmly against his back like he was trying to hide them.

“Uh, uh yeah.” He stammered, wondering if he should say something to ease Cas’ obvious insecurity. “Grabbed ‘em by accident.”

Cas shuffled his feet awkwardly, the light of his halo dimming shyly. He obviously wasn’t going to offer any information unless Dean pressed a little more.

“So?” He managed to sound somewhat casual, even though his heart was beating loudly in his ears. “What’s with the missing pieces?”

“Ah.” Cas rumbled in his low voice. He avoided Dean’s eyes, his chipped halo floating after every movement of his head. “Well, to angels, the halo represents purity and devotion to God. It is the manifestation of each angel’s divinity. When Lucifer rebelled against Heaven, his halo was shattered as a sign of disgrace and he was banished to Hell. Other angels like Gabriel and Anna had a chip broken off because they rejected Heaven and their loyalties were to their own well-being. Angels cannot exist fully if their halos are damaged, but because Gabriel was an archangel and Anna became human, they were exceptions.”

Dean frowned. But Cas had way more than one piece missing and he was still alive and still an angel.

“So how come you’re still around?” He asked, waving a hand at Cas’ cracked halo.

“Because I was created already broken.” The words, delivered in a flat, emotionless tone, still cut through Dean’s heart. That wasn’t true. Cas wasn’t broken. He was just Cas. Perfectly fine the way he was. “As you have heard from many angels and Chuck himself, I came off the line with a crack in my chassis. I was created to be flawed.”

“Cas…” Dean began, trying to find the words to tell him that it wasn’t true, that everything Naomi and Chuck had told him was a lie.

“It’s alright, Dean.” Cas said gently, glancing at him for the first time since the conversation started. “When Jack restored me to my full power I asked to keep the cracks I bear. Not as an punishment.” he added, somehow interpreting the frown flashing across Dean’s face. “but as proof that angels can exist with their flaws and still do good things. That they can still protect humanity, as was their reason for existence.”

Well, when he put it that way, Dean really couldn’t protest. It was very Cas-like of him to not give a single fuck about being perfect and defying everything anyone has ever known by doing it his way.

“But I am sorry.”

That made Dean snap his head up sharply, looking at Cas in surprise.

“For what?” He asked incredulously.

“For forcing you to see me like this.” Cas’ wings spread out momentarily before being tucked tightly against his back again, hiding their magnificence from Dean. He hated that. He hated that Cas thought Dean wouldn’t want to see him like this, one step closer to his true form, to the real Castiel. “I understand it was undoubtedly shocking and unsettling, but if I could hide these parts of myself from those glasses, I would for your sake.”

“No.” Dean snapped vehemently, jumping to his feet and jabbing a finger at Cas. He hated that Cas believed the things he was saying. How could he not be awestruck by him, by his beautiful wings and perfectly flawed halo? “Shut the fuck up, Cas.”

Cas’ face fell even further than before, the corners of his mouth ticking down and his eyes falling downcast. He looked so��rejected. It cut right through Dean’s heart again, and he scrambled to fix it before they fell victim to miscommunication again.

“Cas.” Dean said firmly, ducking down to catch his gaze. Like a moth to light, that piercing blue gaze fixed on green and followed them up. “I ain’t unsettled. Shocked, but in a really good way.”

Cas looked frowned, confused. Dean plowed on.

“Dude, don’t be ashamed of who you are. Your wings and halo…they look awesome, man. Seriously. You look badass.”

Cas’ lips parted in shock. Dean nervously fidgeted with a pen he had forgotten was in his hands, tapping it against his palm as he struggled to find the right words.

“You ain’t broken or flawed—you’re just Cas. My—“

Best friend didn’t cut it anymore. They had gone through too much together to be best friends. Brothers didn’t sit right either. Dean didn’t feel the same things for Cas as he did Sam (it made him shudder in disgust just thinking about his little brother like that). Dean knew what it was like to lose Cas and Sam—Sam, he had lost his family, his blood. Cas, Dean had lost a part of his soul.

“—you’re my—“

Dean wanted—needed—to say the words. But nothing fit, nothing felt right. No word could describe just what Cas was to him.

“—you’re my angel, Cas. And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Cas just stared at him with another one of those soul searching gazes. Even when he was human, Dean felt he could still see straight through him, searching for deception or lies and every time never finding one.

There was a small, awed smile on Cas’ face, and before Dean could register what was happening, Cas gently cupped the back of his neck and pulled Dean down. Soft, chapped lips pressed briefly against his forehead, warm and sweet and grateful. They were gone a moment later, and so was Cas’ hand.

“Thank you, Dean.” He said softly after a while. “I appreciate it.”

Dean blinked and nodded stiffly. His entire body was shaking, aching to feel that warmth again. “Don’t…yeah, don’t mention it, Cas. I just…you gotta know the truth.”

Cas’ wings were fluffed up a bit, and they twitched against his back like they were itching to spread out. His halo was glowing much brighter than before, matching his smile.

“I have always been honored to be by your side, Dean, but it is nice to hear that you consider me yours.”

There was a lump in his throat that muted his voice. He nodded, shivering when he felt the cool, electrified tingling brush of a feather run down his arm and the warmth of light as Cas’ halo grew brighter.

“Always have. Cas.” He murmured, staring down at the pen clutched between his trembling fingers. He could feel Cas’ smile grow, and the primary feather of his wings brushed against his arm with a little more intent.

“As have I.” His response was so quiet that Dean almost didn’t hear it. But a shiver ran down his spine nonetheless. There was something different in the air, now that there were these confessions in the open. It wasn’t quite like a straightforward declaration that Dean was Cas’ and Cas was Dean’s, but it was pretty damn close. It was just a soft, gentle confirmation of how they had felt about each other since Cas pulled Dean from Hell all those years ago.

The quiet, peaceful moment between them was effectively shattered when they both heard the motel door open and Sam come barging through. They both jumped apart. They might have confessed…something between them…but that didn’t mean they were at all comfortable letting Sam see them in such an intimate moment.

“Uhhh…” Sam came to an abrupt halt as he took in Dean and Cas all but throwing themselves in opposite directions. “did I…?”

“No.” both Dean and Cas said quickly. They faltered and fell silent. Sam glanced between them hesitantly, like they were a bomb about to go off. Dean peeked over at Cas, noticing how his wings were fluffed up almost twice their size, his cheeks burning when he noticed Dean had noticed.

“Riiiight.” Sam said. “Well…there’s uh…been another body. I was gonna grab you and go…?”

“Yeah.” Dean said immediately, straightening up. “Let’s go.”

Cas looked like he wanted to protest—or force Sam to leave so they could deal with twelve years of tension—but Dean pointedly sent a prayer his way.

Tonight. Promise.

Cas’ wings fluffed up even more, his halo’s light shone so brightly it poked Dean’s eyes, and his face was redder than a tomato.

Dean grinned before grabbing his keys.

“See ya at the crime scene, angel.” He said before ducking out of the motel room.

“Is Cas okay?” Sam asked when they were in Baby.

“Oh yeah.” Dean grinned smugly, already looking forward to tonight. “He’s definitely okay.”

He’s got a chipped halo and beautiful wings that had once been burned to bone.

He’s Dean’s angel. He’s perfect.

[perlukafarinn]

sequel to this fic (read it for context. or don’t, i’m not the boss of you). i blame @hermywolf for this.

Things were tense for a while. 

Now, Dean knew why he was awkward. He’d offered himself up as Benny’s personal human juicebox and something in his fucked up, wires-crossed brain had gotten so turned on by the act, he’d been about point three seconds away from grinding on his friend like a sophomore at prom. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of Benny or Cas acting so weird.

Benny, and there was no other way to put it, had gotten really touchy-feely. Dean hadn’t realized how rare a non-violent touch was in Purgatory until it wasn’t anymore, until Benny kept putting his hands on Dean’s body, on his back, his shoulder, even his knee as they sat by the fire pit at night. Every touch casual and yet rife with some meaning Dean couldn’t comprehend, and every single one leaving Dean yearning for more. 

And then there was Cas. When he wasn’t hovering over Dean, constantly appearing between him and Benny, he was lingering somewhere behind them, sour-faced and glowering off into the distance. 

So yeah, tense. 

It was the first time Dean was actually thankful for the unending stream of monsters in Purgatory. The near constant combat didn’t leave much time to worry about anything else. Dean was almost convinced that they could get past this whole episode without mention, given enough time and distance and distraction by monsters.

Then Benny had to go and get hurt again.

It wasn’t life or death this time but it was close enough, a lucky swipe from a werewolf nearly tearing a hole open in Benny’s chest.

Cas got to him first again, heaving Benny to his feet and easily holding his weight when it turned out Benny’s legs couldn’t quite support him. Dean got there second, a few moments later, heart pounding as he surveyed the damage.

He met Cas’ eyes.

“Dean, no,” Cas said, catching on almost quicker than the idea had passed through Dean’s mind. “You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Dean said, face growing warm for reasons he really didn’t wanna examine. “You’ll heal me after, right?”

Cas sighed. “You know I will.”

“He’s right, cher,” Benny spoke up. “Gimme an hour or two to heal, an’ I’ll be fine. You don’t gotta do this.”

Dean ignored him, stepping in close and pulling down his collar. “Shut up and let me help you.”

Benny laughed, low and strained. “If you insist...”

He leaned in and Dean closed his eyes in anticipation, one hand grasping Benny’s shoulder to steady himself. It wasn’t enough, the sudden pain of fangs sliding into flesh sending him stumbling against Benny until an arm wrapped around his waist, holding him still. 

Heat stirred in Dean’s gut and he quickly tried to focus on the pain, on the unnatural pull of Benny’s mouth, on his knees still aching from the earlier fight.

It didn’t work. Somehow, the pain just threw the pleasure into sharper relief. It was all too much; Benny’s warmth against his side, his mouth hungry and insistent, his fingertips digging into Dean’s skin as he tried to pull him even impossibly closer. 

Dean opened his eyes and oh, big mistake. Cas was right there, inches away, still holding Benny upright as he drank his fill of Dean’s blood, staring into Dean’s eyes with a look that might almost be mistaken for hunger.

Dean should have looked away but he couldn’t. He felt trapped, pinned down by the monster at his throat and the divine creature staring him down.

A pained gasp escaped Dean’s lips as Benny pulled away his fangs. He didn’t back off completely though, mouth remaining at Dean’s throat as he carefully licked up every drop of blood. Dean shivered, knowing he should be recoiling in disgust and not fighting off every instinct to lean in closer. 

Finally, it was Cas who put an end to it, grabbing Benny by his hair and pulling him off. “Enough.”

Benny shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Easy there, chief. Can’t a man enjoy a meal in peace?”

He wasn’t being serious, Dean knew. He was just trying to rile Cas up. 

Did that make it more or less fucked up that hearing Benny refer to him as ‘a meal’ kind of turned him on?

“You are not a man,” Cas said, voice low and dangerous. “And Dean is not yours to consume with reckless abandon.”

Holy fuck.

Dean glanced between them as they now stared at each other, Cas all righteous anger, Benny stubborn as a mule. The moment stretched on, tension building, and as Dean was sure something was about to snap, Benny looked away.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, laughing breathlessly. 

Dean shot him a curious look but he didn’t say anything else, letting go off Dean and backing away. Dean stumbled on unsteady legs but Cas was there in an instant, arm around his lower back and hand raised to cover the wound on his neck.

It was too much, too fast. Dean’s head was spinning, still trying to comprehend everything that had happened in the last few minutes and drawing a blank on any plausible explanation. He felt lightheaded too, the blood loss finally catching up with him, and as warmth poured from Cas’ hand, healing him, all he could think was

Have Cas’ hands always been that big?

*

The third time it happened, it wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination necessary. 

Still, Benny had broken his leg. Even if it would only take a few hours to heal it would still slow them in the meantime. And even if he could still fight in this condition, why make an already difficult situation even worse when they had such an easy solution?

Cas didn’t protest this time. He took one look at Dean and sighed, sounding defeated. “If you must.” 

Guilt stirred in Dean’s chest, strangely enough. “It’s easier for all of us this way, right?”

Cas didn’t look like he agreed. “Let me know when you need me to heal you.”

And he stormed off. Dean watched him go, the guilt growing stronger. Which was ridiculous, what the hell did he have to feel guilty about? Cas healed him without complaint after any other kind of injury. What made this so different?

Dean looked at Benny, who was sitting on the ground with his broken leg, watching the proceedings with an odd look on his face. His expression softened when he met Dean’s eyes.

“I hope you don’t feel obligated to do this,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything, you gotta know that.”

“I know.” Dean swallowed, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I just wanna - it’s not a big deal.”

He walked up to Benny, kneeling down on the ground next to him, straddling one thigh as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“You keep saying that,” Benny said. 

He put his hand on Dean’s waist, steering him closer as if it were second nature. 

“Cause it’s not.”

Benny hummed, eyes hooded, gaze unfocused and hungry as Dean leaned in. “It is to me.”

He bit down, lighting fast, saving Dean from coming up with a response. Dean didn’t bother to silence his whimper or to resist the urge to sit down on Benny’s lap fully, drinking in the touch of him as Benny drank his life’s blood in slow, deep pulls.

He didn’t take much this time, barely giving Dean time to get used to the pain before he was pulling his fangs out again, laving his tongue over the wound to soothe the sting of their exit.

“This isn’t a one-way street, you know,” Benny muttered, lips still pressed against Dean’s neck. His tongue darted out again, licking up a stray drop of blood. “I’m sure there’s something you want I could give in return.”

And Dean didn’t doubt for one second just what he was implying. It was hard to, really, with Benny’s dick growing hard against his ass, feeling impossibly hot even through the layers separating them. 

It was tempting. No one had touched him that way in far too long and Benny was willing, more than. He wanted it as badly as Dean did and they were already half-way there, practically dry-humping on the cold, damp ground of Purgatory.

But… “Cas.”

Benny sighed. Pulled away and Dean missed the warmth as soon as it was gone. “Yeah, of course.”

“Sorry,” Dean said, not really knowing what he was apologizing for.

“Don’t be.” Benny looked up at him, a teasing glint entering his eye. “You know, he wouldn’t have to be a problem. I wouldn’t mind him joining in on the fun.”

A fuse blew in Dean’s brain. He shot to his feet, nearly stumbling over Benny in the process.

“That’s - I don’t -” Dean stuttered. “He wouldn’t!”

Benny gave him a meaningful look, though what meaning was completely lost on Dean, and got to his feet. 

Instinctively, Dean held out his hand. Benny grabbed it, grasping it tight even as he got to his feet, steady as if he’d never gotten hurt at all. He leaned in and Dean didn’t even think, staying perfectly still as Benny kissed him. 

He tasted like copper, blooming bitter on Dean’s tongue. 

“Offer still stands,” Benny said, pulling away with a grin. “If you change your mind.”

Dean stared.

“Now go find your angel and get patched up.”

An order. Okay, Dean could follow that, even if his mind was becoming more of a jumbled mess by the minute. He walked away, going in the direction Cas had disappeared to and finding him a short distance away, standing in the middle of a clearing.

He looked up as Dean approached, opening his mouth to speak but whatever he had to say dying on his tongue. Dean stopped a few feet away, suddenly feeling wrong-footed and uncertain. 

Cas closed the distance between them, slowly walking up to Dean, into his personal space and then closer still. He raised his hand but he didn’t reach for Dean’s neck, for the still-bleeding wound just below his jaw.

Instead, he softly cupped Dean’s face, placing his thumb on his lower lip. Dean froze, breath caught in his throat, heart beating wildly against the cage of his ribs like a frightened animal.

“Did he-” Cas started then stopped. 

He dropped his hand. Dean followed it with his eyes, spotting the dark smear of blood on Cas’ thumb. Dean’s blood, left on his lips by Benny.

Oh.

“Be careful,” Cas said, finally placing a hand - his other hand - on Dean’s neck and healing Benny’s bite. “Behaving recklessly in Purgatory has too steep a price.”

The warning rankled something deep in Dean’s chest. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to disobey, to lean in and smear his blood on Cas’ lips like Benny had done to him. 

He ignored it. Reckless or no, Dean wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew a rejection when he saw one.

[icefire149]

Megstiel cause you are making me think about it more and with the #1 prompt please <3

It's HERE!!! I really hope you enjoy this, because I had a blast writing. <3333333333

#1 “Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop.” - Meg/Castiel

“How long do you think dumb and dumber are gonna be?” Meg asked pointing in the direction the brothers went with her thumb.

Cas’ eyebrows pinched together in initial confusion before process of elimination logically brought him to what the demon was referring to. Roughly.

Sighing, Meg crossed her arms as she leaned against the side of the impala. “We really need to prioritize your movie education.”

“Oh.” The lines in his face smoothed out. “So this isn’t about Sam and Dean?”

An amused grin curved on Meg’s face. “Well, I’m glad you at least got the gist. And yeah, I was talking about those two.”

“Not too long,” Cas answered, letting his eyes wander over to the convenience store window. The corner of his mouth moved an uptick the second his stare found Dean tossing something small in Sam’s direction. “Now was a good time for a supply run. We don’t know if Crowley will be waiting in front or behind us.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “I’d rather get in and get out as quickly as possible.” She paused and then considered, “Though, I wouldn’t mind rubbing the tablet in Crowley’s face.”

“It would be most beneficial if we didn’t cross paths with him at all tonight.” The command lessened in his tone as Cas shifted his gaze back to her.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Are we suddenly pacifists now?” Her arms fell back to her sides, exasperated. “Again!” And then, Meg felt like she was burning.

An intensity ignited in Cas’ eyes as he trailed over every speckle of blood and bruise that was visible on her skin. He curled his fingers gently around her wrist and raised it closer to his eye level, studying the gauze. Slowly, he looked up through his lashes. “Yes.”

A strangled gasp slipped from Meg’s mouth, but Cas didn’t acknowledge it as he glanced back to her wrist, worrying about his handiwork.

“I asked Dean to buy more bandages,” he confessed. “I hope he remembers. This will need to be rewrapped later.”

Her lips trembled at the timbre of his voice. “Why do you have to look at me like that?”

“Like what?” Cas raised a coy eyebrow.

“Knock it off,” she bit, but Meg had yet to pull her hand out of his light grip. “Like I’m something fragile….something worth..preserving.” Her voice fell to a hushed whisper by the final word.

The intensity in Cas’ gaze softened. He stepped forward, and heartbeat by heartbeat, she eased into the warmth of his presence.

“It’s making me weak, please stop,” Meg breathed. “I can’t...”

“It’s your vulnerability to give. When you choose it.” A small, genuine smile grew on his face. “But regardless, I do think you’re worth preserving.”

She stared at him a moment, digesting his words. It wasn’t that long ago that Meg would’ve found this situation sickening. Feelings were cheap manipulation, but….that wasn’t what was happening here. And….that revelation was leaving her almost dumbstruck.

The corner of Cas’ smile hooked playfully as it grew some more, and Meg knew that she’d been transparent. “Oh?” Meg lifted her chin higher and moved a fraction closer. “I didn’t take you as the bleeding heart type when your head is screwed on right.”

-

The increase of warmth prickling his skin was the last thing Cas perceived before he was suddenly elsewhere. He blinked. His hand was empty.

“Castiel.”

His gaze snapped to the source of the sound immediately. “Naomi.” He didn’t know how he knew that or why her displeased look made his wings itch to uncurl.

“I thought we were just using the vile blight to find the angel tablet.”

And then, the truth flashed before his eyes. Ah. He could feel the hooks buried deep in the core of his being. Tethering him to this place. His gaze narrowed.

“Is that no longer the case?” Naomi asked, lacing her fingers together and placing them on the desk in front of her.

“We are.”

Cas’ words hung in the air for several moments while Naomi stared back at him. And then, she smiled. “I don’t believe you.”

-

The smirk on Meg’s face wavered as Cas didn’t react right away. “Heh, did I hit a nerve, Casanova?”

But, Cas’ blue eyes grew vacant as the moment ticked on by. The fingers curled around her wrist let go, and his hand fell limply at his side.

“Hey!” Meg yelled, fear sharp in her voice. She snapped her fingers in his face. “Earth to Clarence.”

A thick bead of blood formed in the corner of Cas’ eye and then started smearing down his cheek.

-

Naomi sighed, stepping away from the chair Castiel was strapped down to. “I can’t believe I almost forgot about the demon.” Her fingertips were stained with the spatter of blood. “Your behavior today is making more sense. Disgusting.”

Cas followed her movements throughout the room with the eye she didn’t violate in her rummaging through his memories. He swallowed thickly.

“When I restored you to working order after purgatory, I severed those emotional ties. But it seems I didn’t cut nearly deep enough.” Naomi pivoted on her heel. “First the hunter, and now this demon,” She snarled. “What is wrong with you that you’d rather drop to your knees and worship at the feet of recrement.”

“It’s irrelevant to our mission,” Cas said, hoping to redirect her train of thought. “You’re wasting time. We need to find that tablet. Now.”

Naomi crossed her arms. “And what do you suggest?”

“Let me go-”

She laughed, and shook her head incredulously.

“-and we can resume this conversation once I retrieve the tablet. Heaven and the mission comes first.”

They stared at each other in silence until finally Naomi gave her answer, “Fine.” She crossed back over to the chair, and picked up her drill once more. “But after I make a few improvements.”

-

Without a second thought, Meg barreled into the angel. Her hands latched onto both sides of his face, but he still didn’t react at all. She stared into his eyes, looking for any spark of life. He felt like solid stone under her touch. “Castiel!”

And in a blink-you-would’ve-missed-it moment, there was a flash of light. That’s all the hope she needed. Meg pulled his face to hers, silently begging that he wouldn’t collapse like a stack of bricks, and kissed him.

Weakly, he pressed into her lips and Meg pulled back. “What the fuck was that? Where did you-” Her rage died down just as quick as it flared.

Gradually, Cas raised his hands to cover over hers on his face. He woozily shifted his weight on his feet. More blood, so much more, gushed from his eye. “Mm-meg?”

A nervous chuckle pried her mouth into a tiny smile. “Hey, I’m right here. Try not to go fluttering off again.”

“I-” Cas squished his eyes shut as he focused. “Someone in Heaven is….hur-hurting mm...me.” His hands slid forward down her wrists and then up her arms. It was there that he paused and curled his fingers around her like a lifeline.

“I need to know who I’m plucking and roasting on a spit. Give me a name.” She searched his face for any kind of clue, but there was nothing other than the answer trapped in his throat.

Meg glanced back over towards the store. She couldn’t see the Winchesters, but she knew they’d be out any minute now. Gritting her teeth, it wasn’t soon enough.

“Is it still happening now?” Meg asked, turning back to the angel. She felt like an idiot as a new pulse of blood gushed from his eye as he nodded.

-

“If you weren’t the most headache inducing light, you’d actually be fascinating.” Naomi frowned, ignoring the screams below her. “My work is easier conceptualized as a sculpting craft. Shaping and carving….it’s so much more hands on.” Her gaze slid to the drill in her hand.

As an extension of her will, she dug deep into Castiel’s memory. His light was spun into complex webs of memories. Every taut string, if plucked was thunderous with emotion.

“And it’s fitting. Like our father at his workbench, I make angels.” A fond smile tugged at her lips as she severed a chord here and loosened another there. “But that’s not accurate. Angels are so different from carbon based life. It’s much more like tuning a stubborn instrument, but when I’m done Heaven is harmonious once again.”

The next section she reached for soured her mood. “I know I fixed this. You keep doing this Castiel.” Naomi shook her head. “How do you keep finding ways to bridge new pathways to these areas, again and again?”

-

“I...don’t know-” Cas opened his eyes. The right was so sticky with blood. “-h-how long until….or if I’ll even re-remember this.” His grip on Meg’s arms loosened some.

“Okay,” Meg answered. Her mind hadn’t stopped trying to think of solutions, but she was at a loss. How do you strategize for this? What even-

And then, Castiel flopped forward. He bowed his head, sinking into the space between her shoulder and neck.

Meg’s eye twitched as she fought against the smile her mouth desperately wanted to curl into. How did her life reach this level of insanity? She was long past her threshold of touchy-feely stuff, and yet, her traitorous hands were already comforting him. One was planted on his back and the other was softly carding through his hair. A part of her wanted to laugh at the ridiculous sight they must’ve made.

“Mm-my head feels scra-ammbled.”

And his quiet mumble knocked a laugh out of her. Meg’s fingers curled tightly in his hair. “You look like it...although I think your egg is a bit runny.” His body trembled under her fingertips. “And before you ask, yes, that was a joke.”

“I feel like...I-I could almost put myself back together…..she’s ru-rushing-”

“Clarence, spit a name out.”

“-bubut it’s li-like the pieces are….just ou-out of reach.”

“We can’t help without the name. Think!”

Cas shifted his head so his cheek was firmly pressed against her. He spoke in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

That was the last thing on Meg’s mind. His admission was paralyzing as was his breath against her skin. The heat sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed again.

The angel’s lips were only a fraction away from her neck. It was agonizing. “So, what’s the game plan?” Her voice came out strained. Meg needed to focus.

“Find the….the tablet and..figure out the re-rest when we gget there.”

Other fics from this round of prompts

Previous round of prompts

[waywardsummoner46]

(Un)Pleasantville

A/N: Second one shot, yay! Definitely toying with expanding this as well as my Lucifer!Sam and Michael!Dean fic. I’m open to requests and let me know if you want to be added to my tag list (never had one before, oo this is exciting). As ever enjoy the fic and let me know what you think!

Word count ~ 1620

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Alright so, not to sugar coat anything but this was an absolute nightmare.

  You, Sam and Castiel had gotten word of a hunt - well more Sam but that’s besides the point - and had left yesterday. You’d paused at a gas station outside of a place called Charming Acres but the dude at the counter said something was off about the place… so naturally (or supernaturally) you all went to check it out. And a dude’s head just completely blew up out of the blue after he came in for his phone?

  Pulling into the town itself, now that was something. You felt as though you’d walked into a 1950s sitcom about some cheesy, lovesick marriage story. Something that you’d like to stay well away from. Consequently, you met a cheesy, lovesick couple called Justin and Cindy Smith who said they’d heard absolute zilch about any deaths and “this is a very close-knit community, nothing goes on here without everyone knowing” blah blah blah.

  Anyway, the strangest thing for you wasn’t the clothes, nor was it the 1950s behaviour, no, it was the fact Justin didn’t seem to recognise what a phone was. You silently ogled at him but he paid no attention to you. So now you definitely thought something was off about this place. 

  After that fateful encounter, you all stumbled upon the local diner “Harrington’s” who was run by the Mayor Chip Harrington and his daughter Sunny. You thought Sunny was a very sweet young woman who honestly looked like someone you’d get along with, however you noticed her head perked up once conversation about Conrad (watermelon head guy) started. Castiel so delicately stated, “Oh no! His head exploded” rendering everyone in the diner speechless.

  The Mayor stuttered for a moment then questioned “Excuse me?”

  “Like a ripe melon in the sun.”

  Whilst this confrontation was happening, Sunny gave you and Sam milkshakes, as Cas had refused earlier, so you were busy trying not to spit it out as you found that conversation hilarious. Chippy boy gave you the information where Conrad was last seen and then you all took off but not before Sam abruptly said “Alright, you know what? We’re leaving, bye.” And that was that.

  When you’d all arrived at the boarding house, a too cheerful Ms. Dowling greeted you at the door, and creepily said she knew you were coming because it’s a small town and things travel fast. Honestly, what is it with these people? From there, and after a brief explanation on why you all were there, she showed you to Conrad’s room and said he moved in a few weeks ago.

  Being your observant self, you came to the conclusion that the bed had been barely used but there were passionate and just plain disgusting letters under the mattress addressed from Sunny (so maybe she wasn’t so innocent, neither were you).

   At the same time Sam suggested you all stay overnight and divulge and investigate more thoroughly in the morning and yet his almost desperate tone of voice put you on edge. Obviously, you were all tired and weary but Sam was just on a whole new level of “oh this is amazing, we should stay here because it’s so cool”. So reluctantly, you and Cas agreed but not before exchanging an uncertain glance with each other, the intuition of a teenager and an angel right?

  Sam and you were sharing a room since Cas had insisted on his own, and instantly something changed with how he addressed you. “(Y/N), please take your shoes off, you’ll ruin this lovely carpet,” and “(Y/N), sweetheart, don’t you think wearing something a little more lady-like would be more appropriate, hm?” 

 All you could do what was sit and stare because not once had Sam ever been this pedantic or pathetic and he certainly had never called you “sweetheart”, so too baffled to engage in intelligent conversation, you went to bed just after Sam as you were too busy burning incredulous holes into the back if his hairy head. Struggling to grasp sleep, you softly whispered a “What the fuck?” and thank god Sam didn’t hear you because you would’ve absolutely hated the outcome.

  The next morning you were woken up quite rudely by an angel banging on your door. Blearily you struggled out of bed and opened the door, rubbing your eyes. “What time is it?” You said.

 “Time to get up, get dressed and Sam-Sam?”

 Noting Castiel’s confusion, you turned quickly in what was once Sam’s direction only to find your lovable older brother had disappeared to Chuck knows where. Great, man hunt at ridiculous o’clock in the morning. Cas immediately raced down to the stairs to seemingly find Ms. Dowling leaving you rushing to change into something more appropriate that pyjamas.

 Descending the stairs you notice the front door open and a frantic looking Castiel waiting in the Impala, waving for you to get in. Shouting a quick “thank you!” to Ms. Dowling, you sprant for the car and sat in Sam’s seat.

 Castiel started the car and you asked “So? We know where he went?” 

  “I’ve been told he left this morning saying he was going on a walk to the diner and wanted a milkshake, but only after screaming at Ms. Dowling who had her eardrums blocked with ear plugs,” he said. You nodded, absorbing the information and pondered why Sam would just up and leave for a milkshake.

  “Cas, you don’t think that there’s something wrong with the milkshake? Or like, this town in general? Because I do and Sam was being a real overbearing douchebag after you left yesterday and acting completely out of character.”

 He didn’t hesitate to nod his head, “I must admit, the strange customs have piqued my interest and Sam did drink quite a lot of that milkshake yesterday so it might be a possibility that there is a supernatural force going on here.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but you’d turned a corner and arrived just before the diner. Castiel left the car and went to inspect whilst you decided a smart move would be to ring Sam’s phone… only to find it ringing in the back of the car. Typical frustrating Winchester. 

  Placing your hands on your head, you massaged your temples and tried to think of any reasonable explanation as to what on earth was going on. 

 You heard the driver’s door being opened and looked over to see Castiel already turning the keys in the ignition. “He’s gone to Mr and Mrs. Smith's house,” was the only explanation you received.

  Suddenly determined, you nodded and said, “Alright, we’re getting somewhere, onward!” So, the car started and picked up speed, as you made your way to the Smith’s house you took a chance to observe the area a bit more.

  It was definitely something outdated and old-fashioned but the people did look happy, even if the shops were called something despicable like “The Rainbow Restaurant". It was very bright and colourful and you didn’t doubt that even if a thunderstorm hit, these people would still be acting on top of the world.

  Upon finally reaching your destination, you took notice of the white-picket fence and the massive garden. The house was huge and definitely unnecessary for only two people. Regardless, you and Cas sauntered up to the door and knocked three times respectively. On the third Cindy opened the door with a clear smile on her face and a very pleasant scent of lavender perfume. “Hello, can I help you?”

 You and Cas glanced at each other before he answered, “First of all, I’d like to offer my condolences for your husband's death but we really need to know-”

  He was cut off by a very confused Cindy Smith who said, “My husband? Honey, I think you might be mistaken. My darling husband is in the kitchen, fetching his newspaper. Justin, dear, come say hello!” 

 Again, Cas looked like he wanted to continue but a very familiar, moose-like voice interrupted “Coming darling! Won’t take two slices  of a carrot cake!” It was, unmistakably, Sam.  You gaped and stared questioningly at Cas in silent question. He merely returned your look.

  Moments later, Sam appeared in the doorway. Wearing a pair of glasses. A ponytail. And a fucking cardigan. A cardigan, because why the hell not? He wrapped his hands around Cindy’s waist and looked at us in confusion. Or sorry, at Cas in confusion, but when his gaze landed on you his face went more stern. 

 “Young lady, do you not remember what I said about un lady-like clothing? Because those denim jeans and that ridiculous jumper are hardly suitable for my daughter, little miss. I suggest you get in this house right now and put on that lovely dress your mother bought you,” he basically seethed.

  Now you were definitely the equivalent of a fish, with your wide mouth and wide eyes. You managed to compose yourself a bit before stuttering “Sam?”

 His eye twitched and there was no warning before he grabbed your arm and pulled you in the house then promptly dragged you into the sitting area. He guided you to the sofa on the left of the fireplace and very softly explained, “My sweet honey, I know that this is hard for you, but your mother and I want what’s best for you. Now, be a good girl and wait here until your mother and I have finished our pleasant conversation with our new neighbour, hm?” Then he planted a kiss on your forehead and returned to Cindy’s side to continue conversing with Cas.

  All you could think was: what the fuck?

[slashermary]

if we’re rlly leaning into the weirdo4weirdo of it all. how about when they get together dean and cas start wearing vials of each other’s blood around their neck’s ala angelina jolie and billybob thornton. it’s disgusting, it’s romantic, it’s viscerally physical, it’s woebegone victorian child level’s of over dramatic, it’s deeply intimate, it’s always carrying a piece of your beloved inside and outside. it’s unfortunately very them

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[ms-rampage]

Hello. You must be tired of me, no I really like the way you write. Can I ask imagine for Supernatural? Y/n is the sister of the archangels and Chuck's favorite daughter. After being captured and tortured by Asmodeus, y/n is broken, and Chuck tries to support his daughter. Please. I really like the kind Chuck who takes care of his children)

The Broken Archangel

No its fine! I don't mine 😁😊

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and tortured by Asmodeus for several years. She’s rescued by Arthur Ketch, and is taken to the Winchesters, where God makes the discovery of his youngest Archangel. 

Warnings: Some language, mentions of torture and rape. I apologize in advance. This might be a little bit dark.

______________________

Y/n was captured by the Prince of Hell, Asmodeus while she was protecting her older brother Gabriel.

She was taken to Hell where she was tortured and completely drained of her grace. Torturing her in ways, for her to give him the locations of her elder brothers Gabriel and as well as Lucifer either one of them.

She spent 8 years in Hell, being drained of her grace, making her a broken Archangel with little no no powers. 

He was feeding off her grace, keeping her locked up in the deepest parts of Hell. Sewing her mouth shut. 

Locking her in a cage inside a dark room, keeping her in solitary confinement. 

She was basically his “little pet”. He drained her dry of her grace to make himself powerful and be ruler of Hell. Other than him torturing you, taking away your grace, he did other unspeakable acts to you, that you wished to never speak of, or even think of. With him weakening you, he knew you wouldn’t be able to fight back or defeat yourself. 

Making you feel dirty, disgusted and making you want to kill every demon in Hell. Wanting to kill that white suit, KFC dickhole. 

“So Y/n?” he asks, holding a sharp blade in hand wiping it with a hand towel “Where are those two brothers of yours?”. 

You say nothing, sitting on the floor staring down at it, with a metal collar around your neck, attached to a chain on the wall. 

You knew he was asking about Lucifer and Gabriel because Michael and Raphael are dead. He knew your grace wasn’t as strong as theirs.

“I asked you a question doll” he says, kneeling in front of you. You don’t dare to look at his face because you’d want to bitch slap him, and you would. 

He straightens his posture, and grabs you by your hair, pulling it to make you look up at him. 

You cry out, you try to hit him back but the chains around your wrists prevent that. 

“I asked you a question, and you will obey it!” he growls, “I know your grace isn’t as strong as your brothers. I’m nearly done with you, a good 60% done with you. So where is Lucifer, and/or Gabriel?!?”. 

You didn’t know the locations of Lucifer and your “twin”. Even if you did you weren’t gonna give them up. Finally being able to speak. 

“Fuck off” you wince out. Knowing that response wasn’t gonna go well with this demon. 

He clicks his tongue, kneeling in front of you again. “You know I’ll break ya, and when I do I’ll just dump out like the angel trash you are”. 

Fast forward to several years later, and still under the torture of Asmodeus.

You are rescued by the British Men of Letters. Arthur Ketch because him and the Winchesters needed the grace of an Archangel to keep a rift open to go into the Alpocalypse world.

Since Lucifer and Gabriel were nowhere to be found, AU Michael is a douchebag, but Team Free Will weren’t the only ones looking for an Archangel.

Chuck spent the last several years searching for his youngest Archangel, his favorite daughter. Going from one world to another searching for her. Every universe he had created to find her since she left Heaven. 

When Ketch brought her to the bunker, to the Winchesters, Chuck was able to track her down. On Earth in Kansas. 

Him, and along with his two sons went to her location. 

“Wait, wait” Ketch says to the two brothers aiming their pistols at him, he lifts his arms up to show that he means no harm ”I come bearing a gift”. He pulls you from behind the wall by your arm, showing you to Sam and Dean. 

They put their guns down, looking at you and Arthur confused. 

“Uhhh who is that??” Dean asks, pointing to you. 

“This is Y/n” he tells them, sitting you down on a chair in the library, “Archangel Y/n”. 

They look at each other, still confused. “Archangel??” Sam asks him. 

He clears his throat, putting his bag on the table “Yes Archangel”. 

“I thought there were 4 Archangels??” Dean asks, glaring at him. 

Shaking his head, “Nope, there are 5. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel and her” he tells them, pointing to you.  

You sit there, staring off into space. Your lips sewn shut, your all bloody and beaten after years of torture. Zero grace left in you. 

Stammering, and not knowing what to say “I don’t-. Where did you-” Sam not knowing what words to use. 

“Where did you get her??” Dean asks Ketch for Sam. 

He sighs, “From Hell, she’s a feisty, stubborn one. She’s low on grace but enough to open the rift”. 

You’re still in a trance, zoning out when it’s broken by another celestial energy in the room. 

“Y/n!” a familiar voice shouts, Sam and Dean turn around, and see Chuck, a worried and scared look on his face. Seeing you for the first time in several years, possibly centuries. 

You look up, and see your father. Eyes widened, even though you look, and are broken. Can only express one facial reaction, he can tell you wanted to cry.  

You look up and down at him, as he cautiously approaches you. Thinking that this is all some game Asmodeus is playing with you, when he reaches to move your hair away from you face, you wince away from his hand. 

Scared for anyone to even touch you. When Ketch rescued you, you were terrified, you had no idea who this British man was. So you didn’t trust him, even if you couldn’t tell him. He knew you didn’t trust him. 

“I’ve been searching for you” Chuck mutters to you, “For centuries, I’ve been looking for you. I thought I would never find you”. Almost in tears, his voice starts to break, looking at what has become of you. How weak and broken you’ve become. 

Dean clears his throat, getting his attention, “I don’t mean to interrupt. But why didn’t we, or the whole world know about a 5th Archangel??”. 

He turns around to face the two brothers, “Because I never wrote about her in the Bible or in any of my stories. I wrote about the other 4, my 4 boys but her” he motions back to you, still sitting on the chair, “I never wrote about her because she was always my favorite. My favorite daughter, she’s the last of the Archangels and the only girl out of them. I needed to protect her”. 

“Well looks like you did a great job” Dean sarcastically mutters. 

Later that evening, they put you in Sam’s room. You sat on the bed while Sam removed the stitching from your lips. The pinching feeling of the threads being removed hurt more now than when they were put on. 

Castiel enters the room, just as Sam finishes up with removing the stitching on your lips. 

He looks at you in shock, you look up and see your little brother. 

“Sam” he says in a soft voice, “She shouldn’t be here”. He looks at him confused. 

“Why?! What’s wrong?!” he asks. 

He looks over at you and says, “Because she is wanted, not only by Hell, but Heaven as well”.  

He looks at Cas, eyebrows raised, “Why is she wanted by Heaven??”. 

Castiel sighs, “I’m not sure, but if she’s wanted it's not good”. 

“Can’t you heal her?” he asks, “Is there anyway you can do that??”. 

He sighs, approaches you and puts his hand on your forehead. The second he does he hears your voice, in your own mind say. 

“I must reiterate”. 

“It’s not possible for an Angel to heal an Archangel” he tells Sam. 

They both leave the room to give you some privacy, and alone time. Feeling free that you’re no longer chained to the wall or to the floor, and not being tortured every minute of every day. 

The door opens, and Chuck steps in. Making you look away from the open door. Pressing your knees up to your chest, pressing yourself against the headboard. 

“Y/n?” he mutters, slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed, “Y/n, please I want to help you”. 

Being too scared to even look at your father, he sighs in disappointment. 

“Y/n, I want to help you. What happened to you?, please tell me”. While Chuck is talking to you. The bunker gets two more surprise visitors. 

Word got around Heaven that you were there at the Winchester’s bunker, and word got around to Lucifer and Gabriel as well. 

The two Archangels made their way to the bunker even though they weren’t together, arriving at the exact same time. Separately. Startling Sam and Dean, making them have their guard up. 

“What the hell do you want??” Dean asks, pistol ready in hand. 

Lucifer rolls his eyes, “Calm down Deano, I heard a little rumor about a long lost sister” he tells them. 

Gabriel appears right after he says that, “Where’s Y/n?!” he asks, frantically looking for his “twin”. 

“Why are you here?!?” Sam asks him. 

He rolls his eyes in annoyance, “It’s quite obvious! Isn’t it?!”. He goes down the hall towards Sam’s room, where you’re at, Lucifer follows behind him. 

The two brothers follow behind them, and the two Archangels burst into the room. Startling you, making you fall out of bed onto the floor. Trembling out of fear.

Chuck tries to reassure you, “Y/n, Y/n, it’s okay. It’s your brothers”. You look up and see your older brothers. 

“Y/n?!” Gabriel mutters, slowly approaching you. Chuck helps you up, back onto the bed. You look at him wide eyed, seeing your “twin” again. 

“Why are you two here?” Chuck asks the other 2 Archangels in the room. 

“We heard about Y/n” Lucifer finally speaks up. 

Their normal conversation starts to turn into a heated argument between a father and two sons. 

You on the other hand, you feel yourself grow angrier and angrier. Not at your father and brothers, but at the fact that they’re fighting about something that doesn’t even matter anymore. For the first time in several years you finally speak up. Loudly, very loudly that the whole building shakes. 

“Stop!!!!” you scream loudly, causing the entire bunker to shake, making the lights flicker on and off. Making a few light bulbs burst into sparks. 

Sam and Dean cover their ears, shielding their hearing from the ear piercing screech you’re producing, while the other 3 look over at you. You look up at your father and brothers. Slowly standing up from the bed. 

“Asmodeus” you mutter before speaking slightly louder, “I was sold off to Asmodeus by those Pagan fuckers. I was tortured, I was abused, I had my grace stolen from me. He weakened me, he did things to me that should never happen to anyone!”. 

Trying to hold back tears, “He used me for his own little affairs, he abused me. He violated me!” you scream, causing the walls to shake again. Making your lips sting from the stitch wounds around them.

You cry out these words, and they hurt even more explaining to them to your own family. The looks on all these men's faces soften, looks of empathy, looks of despair. Gabriel automatically knowing who did this to his little sister, to his twin. 

“You don’t forgive those who did nothing but put you through constant pain, and torture. What he did to me you don't forget, nor do you ever forgive!. He made me feel vulnerable, live in constant fear. I was betrayed, I was backstabbed. I was protecting you two!”. 

Your older brothers look at you with sadden eyes. “I was protecting you two from that Colonel Sanders demon prick!” you cry out, shouting through the pain. 

Chuck trying to hold back tears. He knew deep down you're broken, and so did your brothers. Feeling horrible that their little sister, their youngest daughter went through a lot of pain and abuse just to protect her family. Knowing that she may not fully recover from the pain she endured for the last 8 years. 

[rowyn-writes]

Under the Weather (Jack Kline)

Warnings: Fluff, self doubt, sickness

Pairings: Jack x Reader, Dean x Reader (Platonically) Sam x Reader (Platonically)

Characters: Sam, Dean, Jack, Cas (mentioned)

Word Count: 1678

Summary: When you get sick, Jack's there to take care of you.

It was freezing outside. The first snowfall had made it's way through Kansas, and you were excited to enjoy the beautiful scenery. Ever since you were a kid, you loved playing in the snow.

You should have listened to Sam and Dean when they told you not to stay out there too long.

It just started with sneezing, which was normal for you since you had allergies, so you thought nothing of it.

"Achoo!" You sneezed once more. "Ugh. I think I'm getting sick."

Dean gave you one of his, 'I told you so,' faces. "What did we tell you about staying out there so long?"

"Yeah, yeah." You dismissed him. "Jeez, Winchester. You sound like my dad."

Dean, Sam and Cas might as well been your dad's, in all honesty. They had found you when you were thirteen. Your parents had been killed by a group of vampires, and you had been taken hostage. The Winchester's had found you, scared and confused.

They told you everything about vampires, werewolves, demons and everything that went bump in the night. You had nowhere to go, as your parents were your only family, so Sam and Dean took you in.

You stayed with Bobby most of the time, where he taught you what you needed to know about monsters and hunting. And when Bobby died, you were crushed. You didn't know how to cope with the loss, so you threw yourself into hunting, becoming one of the best hunters around.

You attempted to clear your throat, fighting off the urge to cough. Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll go get some cough syrup."

Jack entered the den, taking a seat on the couch next to you. "Are you okay, Y/n?" He asked.

"I'm fine, just feeling a little under the weather, is all." You assured him.

"But how can you be under the weather? You're inside." Jack seemed confused.

You giggled at his cluelessness. "No, Jack, I meant that I don't feel well today. I'm coming down with a cold. I'm sick."

"Oh." He furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm still learning the correct meaning of what humans say."

"You and Cas both. He's been down here for years and still doesn't understand a lot of sayings." You felt your body rumble with another cough.

"Y/n!" Jack said worriedly. "Are you okay?! Do you need me to get Dean?"

"No, no, Jack, I'm okay. It's just a cough. Besides, Dean's getting me some medicine to stop it. Don't worry."

Not even a few seconds later, the oldest Winchester walked in and tossed you a bottle of cough syrup. "Drink up, kiddo."

You gave a disgusted look as you drank the bitter liquid. "Yuck."

"It's your own fault, Y/n. Sam and I told you not to stay outside too long." Dean reprimanded you. You dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

"Yeah, but it was worth it, right, Jack?" You asked, looking over at the Nephilim.

"It was!" Jack agreed. "Y/n and I made a snowman and built a fort!" Dean cracked a smile as he looked at you and Jack.

You felt your eyes begin to droop closed, feeling exhaustion overcome you. Neither Dean nor Jack bothered to wake you up, as you looked so tired.

Dean sighed as he looked at his phone. "Alright, I got a case to go work. Jody and Donna need help with what looks like a skinwalker. Watch over Y/n while she sleeps. Get her anything she needs. I would move her to her room, but I don't want to wake her. And if she wakes up and tries to join me and Sam, stop her. She's way too sick to gank some monsters." He gently kissed you on the head before saying goodbye to Jack.

As Dean watched you grow up, you had become a sort of little sister/daughter to him. Along with Sam, he always put you first. Although, Dean secretly wished you weren't a Hunter and went to college, like other people your age.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" Jack asked, making you jump.

"Jesus Jack! You scared me." You pressed a hand to your chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized.

"It's fine, I just thought I was alone. Where's Dean?"

"He's out with Sam on a case. Something about a skinwalker?" You threw the blanket off your body and began walking to your room. "Where are you going?" Jack asked, following you.

"To help Sam and Dean."

Dean's words floated in the back of Jack's mind. "Wait, Y/n. You can't go, you're sick."

You dismissed him, not listening to his words as you slipped on your shoes. "They need my help, Jack. We never go hunting without each other."

You stood up too quickly, becoming lightheaded. You stumbled slightly, but thankfully Jack caught you, steadying you. "You're not going anywhere. Sam and Dean can handle this." You sighed as he gently pushed you back down on the bed. He untied your shoes and set them aside. "You need to rest."

You pouted. "But I'm not tired. How about we watch Netflix?" 

Jack agreed excitedly, as you had gotten him hooked on a show called Grey's Anatomy. You scooted over in your bed to make room for the tall boy. You got out your laptop and set it in your lap, clicking on the show. After a while, you felt your stomach rumble.

"Are you hungry?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, a little." You admitted. Jack nodded as he stood up and walked out. You gave him a confused look. You wanted to follow him, but you were so tired you doubted that you would make it to the kitchen. About ten minutes later, he returned with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea.

"Here. Sam told me that when humans get sick, this is what they eat to make them feel better." He handed you what looked like a heated up can of chicken noodle soup and herbal tea. You gave Jack a smile as you happily accepted the food. As soon as the soup hit your taste buds, you wanted to spit it out, but you begrudgingly swallowed it. 

"This is amazing, Jack!" You lied with a smile on your face. "Thank you."

"Oh, I was worried that you might not like it. I've never cooked before." Jack sat back down next to you on your bed. You quickly downed the soup and drank the tea he had provided for you. You felt yourself becoming drowsy once more. Due to the lack of room on the bed, you snuggled yourself into Jack's side.

He slowly wrapped his arm around you, feeling awkward, but at the same time, he felt butterflies in his stomach. "Hey, Y/n?"

"Yeah?" You opened your eyes sleepily.

"How do you know if you're in love?"

That woke you up. "Oh, well, I don't really know. I've never been in love."

"You haven't?" Jack asked.

"No. Although, I haven't really had the chance to fall in love. I've grown up with Sam and Dean on the road, so I couldn't really make relationships like that." You paused for a moment. "But from what Sam and Dean have told me, it's not just a crush or something trivial. I think it's like you would do anything to make them happy, even if it hurt you. You would sacrifice everything if it meant that they would be content."

"Oh," Jack nodded. "Then I'm in love with you."

"What?!" You sat up. "Jack, you're not in love with me."

Jack sat up as well, his arm falling to his side. "But I am. I would do anything to make you happy."

"Yeah, but Jack, that different. I would do anything to make you, Sam, Dean, and Cas happy, but that doesn't mean I'm in love." He was obviously confused, there was no way he could be in love with you.

"But it feels different with you than it does anyone else. I want to be around you all the time, you make me laugh, and you teach me all kinds of cool things and different words, like fu-"

You covered Jack's mouth with your hand. "Don't say that word in front of anyone. You can only say it if it's just us." Jack nodded as you pulled your hand away.

"Why can't I be in love with you?" He asked.

You sighed as you looked at the Nephilim. You cared for him deeply, and you would go as far as to say you do love him, but there was no way he could love you.

"Jack, I'm not the type of person you fall in love with. I'm not a size 2, I'm a size 20, I'm not pretty, or smart or anything like that."

"But I think you're beautiful and intelligent. I don't care about those superficial things, Y/n. I think you're amazing."

You could feel your heard beating out if your chest. No one had ever told you these things, no one that mattered, anyways.

"Jack, you don't love me." You insisted.

"I do. Please, let me be in love with you." You didn't say anything as Jack leaned in to kiss you. You let his lips skim over yours before pulling away.

"Jack, I'm sick." You protested.

"I can't get sick." He grinned.

You felt yourself smile as you kissed him, his mouth fitting perfectly with yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as he cupped your face. You had no idea how Jack was such a good kisser, but he was amazing.

Suddenly, the door swung open. "Hey, kiddo, you doing o-" You and Jack jumped apart, looking over to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway.

"W-what are you doing back so early?" You stuttered.

"Jody and Donna didn't need our help after all." Sam mumbled, a shocked look on his face.

"Jack," Dean said lowly. "When I said take care of Y/n, this is not what I meant!"

[bowlegsandbiceps]

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

The Harvest Festival (An In Lebanon-verse fic)

Teen / Mechanic!Dean/RN!Cas / Destiel / 1,312 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Castiel squinted into the dying light, the autumn sunset nearly blinding from where he sat on one of many hay bales spaced out around the Lebanon town square. Children squealed as they ran around him, chasing each other with bubble wands, their faces painted with pumpkins or maple leaves or done up like scarecrows. Other adults watched amused, snacking on fresh kettle corn or apple cider on their own hay bales nearby. The wind kicked up and mutual brrr sounded through the crowd, everyone huddling closer together or pulling their jackets tighter around them.

“Woo gonna be chilly once the sun goes down.”

Dean plopped down onto the bale next to him, hands full of treats which he promptly started handing over to Castiel. “That’s cast iron brewed hot chocolate, a state fair favorite. I got a candied apple to share - shut up and take at least one bite, I know you don’t like apples but humor me here - kettle corn, some taffy, and of course,” Dean dipped a hand into his jacket, producing a beat-up old flask, “some ‘shine to keep us warm.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and Castiel rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at his lips. “You got the blanket from the car right?”

“Yeah,” Castiel shifted to the side so Dean could tug it from underneath him.

“Perfect.” Dean tossed it around both their shoulders, fussing with it until they were cocooned inside the old army wool, their bounty spread on their laps. Dean leaned over and planted a wet kiss on Castiel’s cheek. 

Castiel watched as Dean wiggled closer to him, their thighs pressing warmly against each other as he snagged a few pieces of kettle corn then reached for the stick of the candied apple. The sunset light painted his skin golden, the freckles smattered there starting to fade as the summer sun left them for the year. His long lashes were especially visible at this angle, green eyes alight with joy as he licked his full lips, eyeing the treat for a moment before settling on a place to bite. He opened his mouth wide, teeth sinking into the sticky coating and breaking the skin beneath with a satisfying crunch. Castiel felt a smile tugging at his lips as Dean made a disgusting slurping sound to try and keep the juices from sliding over his chin. Castiel reached out with a thumb, smudging over the stubble there and catching the sweetness before it could slide down his neck. Dean hummed, bringing up the hand holding his hot chocolate and used the back of his wrist to dab at the corner of his mouth.

“‘Fanks,” Dean said, mouth full and Castiel huffed a soft laugh, his hand moving to run down the back of Dean’s head, nearly covered by the stiff blanket around their shoulders. Dean looked over at him. “‘H'wha?”

Castiel shook his head, eyes still shining as he repeated the motion, Dean chewing contentedly as he wiped at his cheek again before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. The sun was nearly gone now, the only light from the blank screen down the street and a few of the street lamps on Main. Dean held the candied apple up to Castiel’s lips, offering him an easy bite from the side of the one Dean already took and Castiel dutifully obliged, grimacing a bit at the tartness of the Granny Smith but hummed as the sweet caramel balanced it out. Dean grinned.

“Told ya.” Dean’s shoulder nudged into Castiel’s and Castiel lifted his cup of hot chocolate to keep it from sloshing. “Gimme some kettle corn will ya?”

Castiel lifted an eyebrow but Dean merely opened his mouth obnoxiously wide and Castiel rolled his eyes as he gathered some kernels in his hand and shoved them in. “You’re a heathen.”

“Yeah, you love this heathen.” Dean chewed noisily. “Show should start soon.”

“I can’t believe this many people come out for the Peanuts Halloween special.”

“‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’ is a Halloween staple. I can’t believe you’ve never actually seen it.”

“I pegged you more as a scary movie guy.” Castiel threw some kettle corn into his own mouth.

“Oh, I am. Once we’re done here it’s back to my place for a slasher fest.”

Castiel groaned. “I told you I hate scary movies.”

“Why?” Dean asked, head tilted to the side as he went for another bite of his apple. He smirked before sinking his teeth in. “Scared?”

Castiel huffed. “No. They give me nightmares.”

“So… they scare you.” Dean waved his apple as if punctuating his point.

“No, I’m not scared of them. They’re stupid.”

“But they give you nightmares. So, you’re scared.”

“The movies do not scare me. What they inspire my mind to conjure up while sleeping does.”

“Ah, surely a distinct difference,” Dean rolled his eyes and Castiel nudged him with his shoulder. “Hey don’t spill my chocolate.”

“Don’t be obnoxious.”

“I’ll protect you from the big bad scary slasher, Cas. Don’t you worry.” Dean grinned and took another obnoxiously large bite of his candied apple. “Cuddle you all close so nothing can get you.”

“Plus you have a gun,” Castiel pointed out and Dean’s eyes widened.

“Exactly. If Jamie Lee Curtis had a .357, Halloween would have been a whole ‘nother movie.”

Castiel groaned. “I hate that movie.”

“Good thing we’re watching Nightmare on Elm Street then.” Dean shimmed happily, sipping at his hot chocolate and Castiel wiggled as he whined.

“Dammit, Dean. I’m not gonna sleep for a week.”

“Oh I‘ve got ways of putting you to sleep,” Dean smirked at him from the other side of his half-eaten apple and Castiel actually felt himself blush, glancing around for anyone who might have heard.

“Freddy Kruger kills you in your sleep, Dean,” Castiel pointed out and Dean rolled his eyes chewing laboriously before discarding the last of his apple on the ground next to them.

“Then I know just how to keep you awake don’t I darlin’” Dean leaned in, nibbling at the side of Castiel’s neck and he felt his cheeks heat up. 

“Stop it.”

“Don’t think I will.” Dean nuzzled behind his ear, breathing hot against the lobe before biting it gently. “Ya know this is a pretty big blanket…”

“If you think I’m giving you a handy in the middle of town square during a children’s film you are sorely mistaken, Winchester.”

“If you think I’m not gonna try and give you a handy in the middle of town square during a children’s film you are sorely mistaken, Novak.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Dean’s hand slithered across Castiel’s stomach, pulling him closer. “Trick or treat, sweetheart.” 

“People are staring,” Castiel murmured, eyes moving around them and noting a look of disgust on a few faces. Castiel fought a sense of shame at their disapproval but Dean only pulled him closer. 

“Let 'em stare.” Dean’s hand went to Castiel’s cheek, thumbing at the corner of Castiel’s mouth and Castiel looked back at him, his stomach bottoming out at the low fire smoldering there. “You’re all I’m lookin’ at.”

Castiel’s manic chuckle made Dean grin, knuckling at Castiel’s now burning cheek as he looked down at the small space between them inside the blanket. “You’re a sap.”

“I’m on a bit of sugar high. Makes me sentimental,” Dean grinned bringing his cup to his lips and sipping. “Also I love you and it’s starting to get disgusting.”

Castiel barked a laugh, nearly spilling his hot chocolate but Dean steadied his hand. “Is that so.”

“Yep, whether you give me a handy or not.” Dean let his forehead rest against Castiel’s

“So romantic,” Castiel teased, his nose nuzzling against Dean’s. He was just about to lean in for a kiss when Dean pulled back, head turning towards the darkening screen.

“Shhh… the movie’s starting.”