Hello Boys

Angst

BrokenHearts4Caplan (Masterlist)

Love Doesn't Live Here Challenge (Masterlist)

The Witching Hour Event - Dark!Fic, Halloween Inspired, Haunted Houses, ect....

Emo Night Challenge (Emo/punk rock/metal songs/band prompts)

Dark Nights Au Challenge (Angst/horror/noncon/dark elements/creature fics)

The Number of the Beast (Creature Au's, Horror AU's, Angel/Demons AU)

Dark Disney Twists (Dark AUs of classic disney movies)

Music

CappysDecadesChallenge (Masterlist)

Songs4Cappy (Masterlist)

Decades Challenge (Focis ONLY on a certain decade)

Taylor Swift Playlist Challenge

Spotify Shuffle Challenge

POP! That Dance (Masterlist) (song writing challenge with a bunch of pop songs)

“Play Me Something That Hurts” (sad songs, emotinal songs)

Mother Monster Challenge (Lady GaGa songs)

Fluff

CaplansDisneyCelebration (Masterlist)

100 Kisses Challenge (angsty, forbidden, goodbye, etc.))

Domestic Bliss Challenge

Love Lives Here Challenge

Meet-Cute Challenge

LoveStory Challenge (Fluff, love prompts)

Love Notes: A Fluffy Songfic Challenge

MISC

CappysForeverChallenge (Masterlist)

CappysSummaryChallenge (Masterlis)

ThreeWordsForCaplanChallenge (Masterlist)

Title For Caplan Challenge (Masterlist)

Troupe Roulette Challenge (Masterlist)

Weekly Writing Mini Challenge #1

Weekly Writing Mini Challenge #2

Weekly Writing Mini Challenge #3

Weekly Writing Mini Challenge #4

WeeklyWritingChallenges Full Masterlist

Writing Challenges From an Old Blog Masterlist

“Seven Deadly Sins” Challenge or 7 Days of Sin

ClichesForCaplan Challenge (Masterlist) (Writing Cliches)

POC FUN Challenge (masterlist) (Only POC characters)

OneSentenceToGo (Masterlist) (only one sentence for a prompt)

100WordsForCaplan (Masterlist) (a fictlet with exactly 100 words)

TableForOnePlease (Masterlist) (one charcter only)

500 or Less (Masterlist) (write 500 or less for a challenge)

Hurt/Comfort

The Healing Fic Challenge

Letters & Confessions (A character must write a letter, voicemail, or message they never send.)

Forbidden Romance Challenge (Cheating/Enemies to Lover, etc..)

Two Sides Prompt: Same prompt, different POVs

One Bed, One Wound

Dean looks up instantly. “Oh. Her?”

Sam perks up. “You mean—”

“No,” Crowley snaps. “Absolutely not. We discussed this. My marriage is not a disciplinary tool.”

Dean already has his phone out. “Too late.”

Crowley lunges—but Bobby flicks a devil’s trap switch and slams him back into place.

“Boy,” Bobby mutters, dialing, “you’re actin’ like a jackass. Your wife deserves to know.”

The line connects.

The room temperature drops.

A woman’s voice answers—smooth, cold, amused.

“Robert Singer,” you say pleasantly. “What did my husband do.”

Crowley shuts his eyes. “Darling—”

Dean leans into the phone. “Hi. Huge fan. Love your work. Your husband is being—”

“An idiot,” you finish. “Again.”

Sam snorts.

You sigh on the other end, regal irritation woven with fond exhaustion. “Put me on speaker.”

Dean does.

The lights flicker.

Crowley sits up straighter like a demon caught in church.

“Yes, my queen?”

“Why,” you ask calmly, “are the Winchesters calling me instead of stabbing you.”

“Well—”

“And answer carefully,” you add. “Because I am in the middle of reorganizing the Fifth Circle and I don’t have the patience for excuses.”

Crowley grimaces. “I may have… antagonized them.”

Dean laughs. “He called us ‘emotionally stunted meat puppets.’”

You hum thoughtfully. “That is what I asked you not to do.”

“It was accurate!”

There’s a pause.

Then—

“Crowley.”

He swallows. “Yes, love?”

“If you do not apologize to the nice boys who keep saving reality, I will demote you.”

Sam’s eyes go wide. “You can do that?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you say kindly, “I outrank Hell itself.”

Crowley mutters, “…I hate when you’re hot and terrifying.”

“Apologize.”

He exhales dramatically, sliding off the table. “Fine. I’m sorry for being antagonistic. And smug. And—”

“—existing,” Bobby adds.

Crowley glares. “…and existing.”

You pause. “Good.”

The lights steady. The pressure lifts.

Before hanging up, you add, “Boys?”

Dean hums. “Yeah?”

“Any time he starts acting like the King of Hell instead of my husband—call me.”

Crowley groans. “You are encouraging them.”

You smile—everyone can hear it. “Of course I am.”

The call ends.

Dean pockets the phone, grinning like Christmas came early.

“Well,” he says, “that was easier than holy water.”

Crowley sinks into a chair, rubbing his temples.

“I married a nightmare,” he mutters.

Sam claps him on the shoulder. “You married a solution.”

Bobby raises his flask. “Queen of Hell.”

Crowley sighs. “…She’s gonna make me sleep on the obsidian couch.”

“I didn’t exactly plan on a dramatic tumble,” you muttered, trying not to wince as your ankle protested.

Gabriel tilted his head, arms crossed, lips quirking into that infuriating smirk. “Hmm. I could just let you suffer,” he said, voice teasing, “but I suppose I’ll be charitable this once.”

“Charitable?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you do charity?”

He shrugged, finally hopping off the couch. “Centuries have passed since I bothered with… that sort of thing,” he admitted, pacing toward you. “But your little tumble? Special case.”

You raised a brow. “Special, huh?”

Gabriel grinned, though there was a faint hint of uncertainty in his movements. He hovered his hands just over your scrapes, fingers twitching as if remembering long-forgotten choreography. “Heh… okay. Let’s see if I still remember how this works,” he muttered. A faint glimmer of golden light danced between his palms, flickering nervously.

“You’ve been out of practice for centuries, haven’t you?” you teased, sitting down carefully so he could reach your ankle.

“Out of practice, yes! Rusty, perhaps! But still perfect,” he countered, rolling his eyes dramatically while lowering his hands toward the scrape on your arm. The warmth was immediate, soft and soothing, spreading like sunlight across your skin. A gentle tingle chased the sting of your injuries away.

You laughed softly at the sight of him concentrating so hard, lips pursed and eyebrows knit. “You’re ridiculously dramatic for something that’s supposed to be healing magic.”

“Ridiculously dramatic is my specialty!” he said, light glimmering between his fingers as he worked. “And besides, I am doing it slowly. You know… precision. Artistry. Flair.”

You let out a small groan, leaning back against the couch. “Slow is fine. I can handle slow,” you said, hiding a smile as his hands hovered over your ankle, the light now pulsing gently over the swollen skin. Every flicker of golden warmth made your leg feel lighter, every brush against your arm made your muscles unclench.

Gabriel muttered under his breath, something about “the art of celestial healing,” before adding with a little huff, “Honestly, I can’t believe it’s taken centuries for me to use this again. I forgot how… satisfying it is.”

“You make it sound like a hobby,” you said, half-laughing, half-groaning as he hovered over your ankle, tweaking the golden light to dance in little spirals.

“It is a hobby!” he shot back, smirk softening into something almost like fondness as he finally rested one hand on your knee to steady himself. “And you’re lucky. Most people don’t get the Gabriel Special—slow, careful, ridiculously dramatic, but effective.”

You tilted your head, closing your eyes as warmth seeped through the bruises and aches. “It is effective,” you admitted softly. “And… thanks, Gabe. I didn’t think you’d care enough to actually do this.”

“Pfft. Care enough?” he scoffed, though the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Please. I’m fantastic at caring. You just… didn’t notice.”

You chuckled, letting him work, feeling the aches fade under his meticulous, slightly theatrical attention. By the time he finally pulled his hands back, the bruises had faded, the scrapes smooth and tender again, and your ankle felt supported, if still a little sore from the fall.

“See?” he said, leaning back with an exaggerated flourish of his hands. “All better. As good as new. And not a moment too soon for my dramatic grand finale.”

You laughed, reaching over to poke his shoulder. “Dramatic, yes. But… you weren’t half bad at it.”

Gabriel tilted his head, smirk returning with a twinkle in his eye. “Not half bad?” he repeated, stepping closer to hover above you playfully. “I’ll take that as a full compliment, thank you very much. But don’t expect me to make a habit of this—you owe me snacks or something for this heroic effort.”

“Deal,” you said, smiling. “Anything for the Gabriel Special.”