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Summary: Dean burns from being out in the garden for a little too long while Castiel simply tans.
Warnings: none
Word count: 581
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⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 SPN summer, prompt #25
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"Dude! How are you not peeling?" Dean scoffed, pointing between Castiel and Sam, one of which had come back from their morning jog.
"It’s to do with skin pigments." Sam shrugged, taking out his earbuds and tucking his iPod into his shorts. "And using better sunscreen. SPF fifty, Dean."
Dean rolled his eyes, waving off his brother as he went inside, his weight creaking on the mini stairwell leading to the entrance. He moved his eyes to Castiel again. "It’s unfair, Cas. I mean, look at you! Farmer’s tan."
The angel wasn’t necessarily paying attention, too busy pushing his straw hat to sit right while he tended to his flowers. "Mhm. Life is unfair, you of all people know that."
"Yeah but I’m peeling, Cas. It’s like I’m a reptile or a vegetable." He began picking at the loose skin by his shoulder.
"You might burn first and then tan." Castiel shrugged, weeding the last of his flowerbeds. "Go put something on it, the spray bottle to help after sun exposure."
"Aftersun. It’s called aftersun, buddy."
"Yes, so go get it. Or more sunscreen because you did say you would water the grass."
"Huh, I did say that." He sighed, leaning over to peck Castiel on the lips before heading inside for the higher SPF sunscreen. "Hey, Sam, where is the SPF fifty?"
"Where it always is." Sam deadpanned, hunched over his laptop on the coffee table.
"Very funny, smartass."
"What? It’s under the sink, where it always is."
The older Winchester acquiesced when he noticed the cupboard ajar, the colourful label facing them head-on. "Right. Thanks." He stalked over to it, huffing when he saw it wasn’t an aerosol one. "Seriously, Sammy? These ones make your hands greasy."
"Go buy your own sunscreen if you're fussed, you certainly don’t have to use mine."
"I won’t next time."
Sam rolled his eyes, turning his focus to his laptop and the book open beside him. "Yeah right, I’ll join you and Cas out there later."
"Cas? Can you rub my sunscreen in for me?"
Castiel looked up from where he was unravelling the hose, laying it down. "Of course, Dean." The seraph held his palm face up for the bottle and opened the cap to pour some in his hands.
Dean dropped his shoulders, jolting whenever Cas accidentally caught the loose skin where he was peeling. He scruffed up Castiel’s hair when the angel knelt down to be level with his knees and kissed the side of his thigh.
"Don’t forget about the grass, Dean." He stood up, strolling over to his other plants that excluded the flowers.
With a speechless expression, Dean took the hose from where it was left in the grass and eventually muttered. "Tease."
The hose sputtered prior to washing the grass down, Dean aiming it at his partner momentarily and earning a yelp from him. "Dean, you are meant to target the grass, not me."
"Yep, sorry angel."
"You are not sorry, Dean."
"Mm… not really." He gave a soft laugh, spraying the last of the grass and tip-toeing up to Castiel to wrap his arms around the seraph’s waist. "Probably means you should take off your t-shirt."
Castiel lowered them into the dirt by the growing fruit and vegetables, pulling off his shirt and cupping Dean’s cheeks. He kissed Dean lovingly, wet top still in hand. Their legs were dusted with the mud and compost and the pair didn’t break away until the front door opened.
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I’m writing scenes which are good, and I don’t know where they are going to fit in the book. But it’s what I call ‘The Valley Filled With Clouds’ technique. You’re at the edge of the valley, and there is a church steeple, and there is a tree, and there is a rocky outcrop, but the rest of it is mist. But you know that because they exist, there must be ways of getting from one to the other that you cannot see. And so you start the journey. And when I write, I write a draft entirely for myself, just to walk the valley and find out what the book is going to be all about.
-- Terry Pratchett - A Slip Of The Keyboard: Collected Non-fiction
WIP Big Bang/WIP Reverse Bang 2026 - Round 4 Of Fic Claims & Art Claims Are Now Open
Round Four (aka the last round of claims) is live about ten minutes early. You may claim as many fic/art projects as you want this round (and you may also claim for both fic and art…you aren't limited to one or the other), as there will be no pinch hit claiming round as of the 2026 round. Please double-check the numbers before you submit the projects you want to claim! Also, if you want to claim more than one project you need to fill out the form separately for each project with a unique Check-In ID each time. Because the previous round went up so late, the end of claims for Round 4 is August 16th.
Sign ups for the Castiel Reverse Bang 2027 are now open. Don't forget to read the rules and check out the schedule. You should receive a confirmation email within 24 hours of signing up. If you don't, please send me a message.
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2.5k, Ruby/Sam, Explicit, Non-consensual, Drugging, Erectile Dysfunction, Wheelchair User Sam
For the dozenth time since they started to work together, Ruby drew closer, with a decidedly hungry look in her eyes. She didn’t need to say a word. Sam already knew what she wanted.
“Don’t,” he stammered. “I can’t.”
“Sam, you’re not alone.” Ruby leaned down until her lips met his. For a moment, all reservations left Sam’s mind. Ruby’s mouth was warm, sweet, and soft, and Sam couldn’t remember the last time he was this close to anyone. All he wanted was to pull her even nearer, until their entire bodies were aligned.
Then Sam felt his cock coming back to life, and he remembered exactly why he never would.
He pushed Ruby away, so hard that she stumbled back. “You don’t get it, Ruby. I can’t.”
For just a moment, Ruby stared at him with sheer venom. She blinked it away and put on a look of sympathy. “What’s wrong?"
“What’s wrong? Where do I start?” Sam shook his head in frustration, and then, for lack of any other way to explain it, gestured down to his lap. That was the problem. All of it. His legs, his wheelchair, and of course, his penis. It all went wrong the day he was born. Now, the only thing he’d ever wanted was right in front of him, and there was no way he could possibly have it.
Ruby stepped back towards him. She cupped his chin in one hand and stroked his cheek with the other. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s all it is?” Her gaze was so pitying, so genuinely, unapologetically kind, that Sam could almost forget she was a demon. “You should have told me. I can fix that in a heartbeat.”
Ruby reached down to her ankle and drew out her knife. “Just one taste of me,” she said, “and little Sammy will perform like never before.”
Summary: You and the Winchesters have been through some strange times together, but none exactly like the one at hand.
WC: 890 Pairing: Dean Winchester x gender neutral!reader
Warnings: language, witches, Dean being cute... I think that's it.
A/N: This is my weekly entry for @flashfictionfridayofficial I have been missing Dean, so I decided to dip my toe in while I wait for the poll to finish! I felt so rusty lol but it was nice to dust him off.💓
“Does anybody else feel like that was resolved a bit too easily?” Sam asks as he climbs in the back seat. He looks almost comical in the small space, all knees and elbows.
“Hey man, don’t look a free evening in the mouth.” Dean huffs, sliding behind the steering wheel.
“Dean that’s not-” Sam starts, only to be cut off by Baby’s rumble as Dean turns the key. He cranks up the radio, obviously in a decent mood despite not having slept for the past forty eight hours.
“You comin’?” He asks, patting the seat beside him. “Or you just gonna stand there lookin’ pretty?”
“You want the front seat Sam?” You ask as he shifts uncomfortably behind your seat.
“Sammy’s fine, he’s used to taking a backseat to beauty.” It draws a real laugh from Dean, the kind that crinkles his eyes at the corners and makes you love him a little more each time.
A sigh and his signature eyeroll and then Sam continues. “I’m good, just get in so he’ll shut up, I’m begging you.”
You oblige, climbing in beside Dean with a smile. He’s dancing to the radio as he drives, Sam still turning over the case from the back, worrying that witches rarely go without at least a little fight.
“Maybe they knew they were outgunned?” You offer, trying to keep the peace.
“Maybe they just wanted us to think we had the upperhand.” Sam muses, still looking over the files he had pulled from his bag.
“Maybe we discuss this over beer and burgers and not the Stairway to Heaven guitar solo?” Dean fusses, still drumming on the wheel. “It’s blasphemous.”
“We’ll look it over later Sam otherwise John Bonham here is gonna lose it.”
A few hours later, fueled by cheap liquor and sleep deprivation, the discourse reignites much to Dean’s chagrin. Sam had managed to pull you to his side, and now you were questioning the case as much, if not more, than he was.
“You mean you’re siding with Sammy instead of me?” Dean fusses, words slurred ever so slightly. You’re sitting at the rickety table with Sam, pouring over the files, music playing in the background. “You know I basically raised him, so I’m really the brains of the operations here.” He’s kissing at the back of your neck, working hard to distract you.
“I think he might be on to something, baby.” You chuckle, earning a huff from him. His lips move into a frown against your skin, a barely perceptible whine escaping him.
“ Wouldn’t you rather me be on something, sweetheart?” It’s a poor attempt at a whisper and it earns him a gag from Sam.
“Dude, I’m literally right here.”
“Sounds like a you problem.” Dean quips, unmoved.
“It’s also a me problem, Dean. I haven’t been into people watching since 2018.” It shakes him, and he moves around to read your face, unsure how to respond. Curiosity and intrigue mingle on his face, a little grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“We will revisit this later when innocent ears aren’t present. If you two want to be Poindexters then I’m going to bed. I have about a six month sleep deficit I need to make up for anyways.” He gives you a quick kiss and sulks off to bed.
A few hours later and no closer to a resolution, you and Sam follow, the amber glow of dawn sneaking around the edges of the worn curtains.
It feels like you have just fallen asleep when a loud boom shakes the room.
“Son of a bitch!” Dean yells, pushing up his satin eye mask.
“Really Dean?” Sam sighs, judging him openly.
“Beauty is pain.” Dean shrugs a rebuttal. “Check on Baby, Sam. That sounded close.”
“Really?” Another sigh, but he climbs out of bed and pulls back the curtain. “Um guys?”
“Oh hell no, what did they do? I bet it was that Tesla driving son of bitch next door.” Dean scrambles over you, slipping on the rug in his fervor.
“What the hell?”
The commotion had fully pulled you out of your slumber, and you were watching their antics with a smile.
It’s small at first, the feeling like something was off. It wasn’t something you could necessarily pinpoint, but you think it was the smell. Or better yet the lack thereof. Everywhere you three stayed had a very distinct smell; mold, age, dollar store detergent, alongside things you didn’t want to think about. It was never pleasant, but it was a constant companion.
Now it just smelled…
New?
It smells like clean linen and fresh paint, a gentle hint of cigarette smoke like it had wafted through the vent from next door. The comforter is soft and fluffy against your skin, the mattress suspiciously devoid of lumps.
“Guys? What’s going on out there?”
“Well, as much as I hate to admit it I think you and Sammy were onto something.” Dean fusses, turning to move towards the desk that looks entirely different than it did when you fell asleep. “At least they didn’t send us back further than Baby, the dicks.”
“Excuse me, what?” You ask, even more confused.
He holds up the calendar he finds there, colored in yellows, oranges, and browns. “Those charmed freaks sent us back to 1969. They’ve freakin’ broken time!”
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel
Warnings: Cas’ honesty.
Word count: 711 words.
Dividers by: easytiger xo
A/N: This story popped into my head as I remembered my own little headcanon that Castiel helped take Dean’s photo for that dating app in S10E07. This is a very dialogue based fic, and to make it clearer who's saying what I have coloured Cas' lines blue. Please let me know if that works or not.
Dean's Photoshoot
“Dean, this is… complicated.”
“Cas, just hold it up and press that big white button in the middle of the screen.”
“There is no button in the middle of the screen.”
“It’s a white circle-“
“That’s not in the middle, it’s more in the lower quarter of it.”
“Just take the damn photo, Cas!”
Castiel presses the white circle with his thumb and the screen freezes.
“The screen, Dean. It did something.”
“Did I look good?”
“I am unable to ascertain whether you appear pleasing or not.”
Dean frowns and jumps off the impala with a sigh and jogs over to his friend.
“Come on, man, lemme see.”
He takes the phone away from Cas and groans.
“You’re not supposed to cover the lens with your hand, Cas.”
“That is not my hand, it is my index finger.”
“Yeah, alright. We’ll try again, but this time make sure that you can see me on the screen before you take the picture.”
Cas nods and Dean trots over to the car again. He hops up on the hood and smiles towards the confused angel.
“Can you see me on the screen?”
“Yes.”
“Is your finger in the way like before?”
“No.”
“Alright! Take a lot of pictures, and we’ll find the right one later.”
“I have taken several already, Dean.”
“Good! Lemme just cycle through a few poses.”
“Why do you need a bicycle?”
“A bicy-? No, man… I meant I’ll sit a few different ways, and you can keep taking photos.”
“How many?”
“Just… keep taking them and I’ll delete the ones I don’t want.”
“Okay, I understand.”
Dean proceeds to shift his foot from the ground to the bumper, from sitting leaning forward to leaning backwards on the black hood, then finally just standing next to his beloved car while grinning to the camera. After a few minutes of Cas concentrating and Dean posing, the latter walks over to see the results.
“I took many pictures, Dean.”
“Awesome.”
As Dean scrolls through his camera reel, his smile falters.
“Dude. You weren’t supposed to zoom in on my face like that. And is… is that my butt?”
“You were on the screen the entire time.”
“Yeah, but I wanted you to also fit Baby in it!”
“Why?”
“Because I- … Why d’you think I wanted to sit on top of her while you took the photos?”
“I have never understood your preferences, Dean, and I have stopped questioning your reasoning. You wanted to be on the screen. You are on the screen.”
Dean rubs his hand down his face and sighs dramatically. He then proceeds to hold the phone towards the Impala, zooms out and gestures for Cas to grab the phone.
“You hold the phone right here. No zooming, no fingers or hands over the lens. Just take the damn photo when I tell you to. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“When I get over there, you’re going to take a picture of me sitting on Baby’s hood.”
“Yes.”
“I will tell you when I’m ready, ok?”
“Ok.”
“You don’t have to take pictures while I’m walking over there.”
“Ok.”
“Ok?”
“Ok.”
“Good.”
Dean leans against the car, placing one foot on her bumper and leans forward, making sure to place his arms so he can flex them just right and looks at Cas – who is still holding the phone exactly the way he was told.
“Alright, Cas. I’m ready. Take the photo.”
“Ok.”
“Did you take it?”
“Yes.”
“Was it good?”
“You have a look.”
“A look?”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean, a look?”
“The one you have before you run to the bathroom after eating too many burritos.”
“You saying I look like I’m about to shit myself?”
“Now you are looking angry.”
“What the hell, dude?”
“You look exasperated.”
“No, man. Come on. Just take the picture!”
“I have taken several.”
“You know what… Just forget it. We’re done.”
Dean returns to grab the phone from Castiel and looks through the twenty new pictures he took.
“Alright, now we’re talking! These were pretty good, thanks buddy!”
Dean stops at one where he looks directly at the camera with a perfect pose the ladies will love.
[Picture credit: Kissthemgoodbye ]
“This one’s good.”
“That is the burrito face.”
“Shut up.”
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