Just Watched This Scene For The First Time And Dang, It Really Feels Like Its About Spn..

Just watched this scene for the first time and dang, it really feels like it’s about spn..

La Verdad

Written for Suptober21 day 4: Secrets.

Link to ao3! (1.4K)

All Castiel had to do was remain silent.

On the last case, he did not think about it. The second the witch readied her spell, Castiel shielded Dean from her wrath.

The blast of green light hit Castiel right in his chest, just a few seconds before Sam’s witch-killing bullet killed her. The spellwork tingled as it ran through his body and knocked him off his feet, but he sustained no injuries. The Winchesters were concerned, but Castiel assured them both he was angelic enough to withstand her spell.

That was the truth. Castiel knew it was true because he was incapable of speaking falsehoods.

It seemed that Castiel’s grace— his angelhood— was strong enough for him to survive the more deadly aspects of the spell, but it had faded enough that he still suffered the effect of the curse.

The curse that compelled him to speak the truth.

Castiel could be blunt, or so he had been told by Dean and even Sam a few times. However, this curse wanted to force every last secret out of Castiel’s heart and release it through his mouth.

And there was one secret he was not ready to tell.

Keep reading

I feel you, I usually don’t EVER know any songtitles let alone artists so this happens to me ALL THE TIME!

(Which is why this is even funnier to me that I actually know this band)

I just discovered a band I'd never heard of by finding two of their albums in a mysterious plastic bag in an abandoned school building. Finally, I'm at the start of a fantasy novel

Sooooo soft🥺

domestic bliss with a kiss

Kiss #18 - Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away.

50 types of kisses masterpost. Also posted on ao3.

Leaning against the dryer, Dean began to unload the clothes into a basket, feeling the warmth from the machine slowly seeping into his back. Cas was propped up on the counter opposite from him, slowly matching pairs of socks and folding shirts that Dean handed up to him. It was simple and easy, and God, how did Dean end up here? Where the mundane task of doing laundry with Cas by his side was something that Dean absolutely loved.

Domestic bliss.

That’s what Sam had called it. Or, well, that’s how he’d phrased it when he’d called Dean and teased him mercilessly a few days ago. Dumbass little brother. Even though, yeah, maybe Sammy was right. Because Dean actually was blissfully happy, sitting here folding warm clothes from the dryer with Cas by his side.

This was their life now.

Renovating their new home and doing chores together.

Well. Sometimes it was more like Dean was doing the chores while Cas watched.

“You’re doing it again,” Dean said, flickering his gaze up from the basket of clothes to lock eyes with Cas.

“Doing what?”

“Staring at me,” Dean replied, watching the way Cas’ eyes softened into this tender little expression that made Dean’s heart ache with affection.

Cas shrugged, even though a gentle little smile danced across his lips. “Can’t help it.”

“Oh yeah?”

Dean watched in surprise as a light pinkish hue dusted across Cas’ cheeks. Was Cas actually blushing? Dear God, why was that so endearing?

Cas hummed quietly, darting his eyes away from Dean as he shifted his pile of folded shirts into a separate basket. “You look…” Cas trailed off, as if he were searching for something specific. Finally, he seemed to settle on whatever he was looking for. “Content. You’re just… it’s this… I can’t tear my eyes away from you.” Cas paused, gaze finding Dean’s again as he murmured, “You’ve never looked more attractive than you do right now.”

Oh.

Now that was surprising.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, heading spinning at the revelation. He’d been called attractive hundreds of times by dozens of people. Hot. Sexy. Pretty. Handsome. Yeah, he’d been called a lot of flattering things over the years.

But this?

This was earth-shattering. Ground-breaking. Breathtaking.

Oh God.

Dean was so ridiculously in love he was seeing stars.

Dropping the rest of the laundry into the basket without any order, Dean stood up and crossed the room until he was standing between Cas’ legs; pressing Cas further into the counter as he slipped his hands up those muscular thighs and squeezed softly with his thumbs.

Cas let out a little stuttered breath, eyes flickering down to Dean’s mouth as he licked his own lips.

“Attractive, huh?” Dean murmured, leaning in close until he was breathing Cas’ air.

Nodding slowly as if in a daze, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck to pull him closer. “So attractive I think I just fell in love with you all over again.”

Feeling himself go weak at the knees, Dean grabbed hold of Cas’ thighs tighter. “C'mere and kiss me,” Dean said, looping his hands around Cas’ tie and tugging him forwards until their lips met.

Cas immediately deepened the kiss, licking his way into Dean’s mouth until they were both shuddering against each other. Caught between desperate touches and lingering softness, the kisses morphed so quickly that Dean felt dizzy. One second Cas was kissing him as if he couldn’t get enough, and then he was easing back, just barely slotting their lips together as he tenderly held the kiss with soft little brushes of plush lips.

They kissed long and slow, as if there was no rush; no need to be doing anything else except exploring each other’s mouths.

Somewhere after the tenth kiss- or was it the fifteenth?- Cas went pliant against him, letting Dean direct the next kiss.

Shifting his weight, Dean chased Cas’ mouth, turning the gentle kissing into something teasing as he licked his way along Cas’ lower lip.

Cas gasped against him, his fingers sliding up to tug on Dean’s hair at the sudden shift.

Oh, God yes.

Dean pushed a little further, feeling Cas’ legs pressing more firmly into his hips as ran his tongue along Cas’ teeth before pulling back again to chastely peck Cas’ mouth.

“You know,” Dean said, murmuring the words against Cas’ mouth. “Maybe we should go test how clean those new sheets are on the bed.”

A shudder ran down Cas’ spine, and Dean felt Cas’ breath stutter out against his lips until he was drinking in Cas’ air.

“What about the laundry?” Cas asked, breathless, eyes fluttering shut as Dean traced their lips together again.

“Forget about it,” Dean muttered, moving in to kiss Cas again. But at the last second, instead of properly kissing him, Dean huffed out a rush of air against Cas’ lips before blowing a breath into Cas’ mouth; pulling back quickly with a smirk.

“Dean,” Cas startled, emphasizing Dean’s name with a sharp tug as he attempted to chase Dean’s mouth.

“You wanna kiss me? Come and get me,” Dean teased, throwing Cas a wink before he darted off towards their bedroom.

Cas immediately chased after him, catching up to him in their room before snagging Dean by the waist.

“Well hi handsome,” Dean said, nudging his nose along Cas’ jaw with a grin. “Did you want something?”

“Shut up and kiss me, Dean.”

Dean laughed as Cas’ mouth claimed his, biting and desperate and oh-so-good.

The rest of the laundry lay forgotten on the floor of the laundry room. Not that Dean cared. Not when Cas was kissing him, tugging him down onto the mattress until the clean crisp sheets were a rumpled mess.

Same here! Every time my mental health is getting worse I get sucked deeper into this hellhole and the more I get sucked back into this show, the worse my mental health gets.

But then again this is THEE only tv show that will ever mean so much to me and I wanna scream about the gay angel and his hunter husband so that the whole world hears it.

There’s just nothing like this fandom. This is family. The network and part of the cast and convention staff might be homophobic, but the fandom is queer, Dean and Cas are very much queer and in love and life’s good because Cas got to confess his heavenly, incomprehensible for humans but very much ROMANTIC love for Dean.

Sometimes I feel like I need to leave this show behind for my own sanity but then shit like this happens and I gotta stay and scream about the gay angel being in love cause people are telling me no

Day 4: Secrets

"You what?" Dean demands as he takes off his coat.

"I accidentally cursed our apartment," Cas says, wringing his hands.

Jesus Christ. Everyone told him not to move in with a witch. Witches are nothing but trouble. Witches summon demons that wreak havoc on the neighborhood. Witches smell like stinky herbs.

And, yeah, Sam's burrito farts are a goddamn biohazard, but if Dean's learned anything from sharing a bedroom with his witchy little brother, it's not to trust stereotypes.

Plus, it's not like Cas, graduate student of the Occult School, brings in anything worse than Dean, graduate student in the School of Nursing. Between the two of them, Dean definitely holds the lead in coming home splattered with questionable fluids. Cas is practically Mr. Clean.

But he'd just had a grueling day of pathophys and epidemiology & biostatistics. He spent the past hour daydreaming of vegging out on the couch and watching a rerun (or five) of Dr. Sexy, MD. He'd barely stepped across the threshold before Cas was on him, yammering on about a spell gone wrong.

"Start from the beginning," Dean says, rubbing his forehead. “What’s the spell do?”

“It traps anyone who enters its borders,” Cas says promptly.

“Okay, so, what,” Dean says, “is the kitchen off limits? ’Cause that’ll be a problem in like three hours.”

Cas shakes his head, his expression apprehensive. “It’s already trapped us. We can’t leave this floor.”

“How…?” Dean drifts off, stunned.

Cas’s mouth twists. “My containment perimeter had a breach that I didn’t notice until too late. The spell naturally expanded to the next man-made perimeter.”

“Great,” Dean says sourly as he plops down on the couch. He might as well make himself comfortable if he’s not leaving anytime soon. “I assume it can be broken, right? We won’t be trapped here forever?” He reaches for the remote and puts on an episode of Scooby Doo to play in the background with the sound turned low.

Cas perches on the other side of the couch, half-facing Dean, half-facing away from the television. “It can be broken.”

“Lemme guess, you need a shitton of rare ingredients delivered that we don’t have here?” Dean asks without looking at him.

Truthfully, it could be worse. He’s spent plenty of fun weekends staying in with Cas, squabbling over whose turn it was to use the stove for frying burgers (Dean) or boiling hiccup cures (Cas). As long as Cas springs for next-day delivery, he could be looking at freedom in under 48 hours.

“Not exactly,” Cas says, and Dean looks up.

Cas has a distinctly squirrelly look around his eyes.

Warning bells go off in Dean’s head, honed from years of listening to Sam stutter through completely implausible lies (demon blood did it, really? Are you sure it isn’t your skanky girlfriend?) “So what’ll it take?” Dean asks, frowning as he flits through more and more implausible answers.

“The exercise was to incorporate a verbal key to undo the spell,” Cas says slowly.

“Have you already tried Open Sesame?” he tries, only half-joking.

“It’s not a catchphrase,” Cas deadpans.

“Good, ’cause you kind of suck at that game,” Dean says, rolling his eyes, “Who the hell uses ‘popular shipping insulation’ as a clue for Peanuts?”

“That’s what peanuts do!”

“You could’ve just said ‘Snoopy’ and I would’ve gotten it like that.” He snaps his fingers.

Cas scowls. “You know I am not as well versed in non-magical pop culture.”

Dean’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He coughs and fiddles with the remote. “So what’s the magic word this time?”

Cas swallows. “Words, plural - the spell requires secrets to open.”

“Secrets,” Dean repeats flatly.

“The more intimate the more valuable,” Cas confirms miserably.

“Seriously?” Dean asks, staring at Cas in horror. “You couldn’t have made the solution, like, Led Zeppelin lyrics?”

Cas shakes his head. “The key has to be something valuable.”

“Great, just great,” Dean says sourly as he sinks back in the cushions and stares out at the television without absorbing any of the cartoon going on on screen.

“Would you rather… wait?” Cas asks cautiously.

Dean sighs. “No, better to get it over with,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair.

“I’ll go first,” Cas volunteers, his voice understandably subdued. “I lied last weekend when you invited me to the beach. I wasn’t busy, but I didn’t want to go because I can’t swim.”

Dean blinks. Cas had been weirdly evasive when Dean asked him what he was up to instead.

“Your turn,” Cas says stiffly.

“You can’t swim?”

“I’ve never learned.”

“Plenty of people can’t swim,” Dean says casually, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I don’t own a swimsuit either.”

“You could’ve borrowed one of mine,” Dean says sensibly.

“It was just easier if I stayed behind.” Cas reddens, his gaze dropping to his knees. “Your truth, Dean,” he reminds him.

“I once cheated on a history test?”

Cas nods once. “I borrowed my sister’s car and dented the side door. I blamed my younger brother when she found out.”

“I peed myself the first time I saw The Exorcist.”

“I worked at a Gas-n-Sip in high school. I was awful at it, and they fired me after a month.”

"I listened to a Taylor Swift song on the radio yesterday and I liked it. I liked it a lot."

Cas cracks a smile. "I like Taylor Swift.”

“You also like prime numbers and trench coats,” Dean says wryly. He grins. “Sometimes you’re just way off base, man.”

Cas frowns. “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“It makes you look like a flasher,” Dean says promptly.

“I’m not a flasher.”

“Dude, I know.” He pauses. “Does that even count as a truth?”

Cas sighs. “I have no idea,” he says as he gets up and heads into his room. He emerges with a spindly metallic doodad in his hands. It’s delicate hands sway slightly even though there’s no breeze in their apartment. Cas glares down at it. “According to my measurements, we’re about a quarter of the way there.”

“Seriously?”

Cas falls back into his seat, staring at the instrument in his hands. “I suppose we need deeper secrets.”

Dean’s stomach fills with lead. A secret pops to mind, one that would probably blow Cas’s stupid secret measurer out of the water. He clears his throat as Cas’s head whips around to stare at him. “You first.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I’ve participated in an orgy.”

Whatever Dean had been expecting as Cas’s deep, dark secret, kinky sex acts was not on that list. In all the times he’s tried to picture Cas’s sex life, he comes up with a big fat blank. Cas has never dated the entire time Dean has known him, and Dean would’ve thought he was a virgin except he hangs out with that Meg Masters, who would never be caught dead in the vicinity of a virgin unless it was to make a ritual sacrifice.

“What? How? When?”

Cas’s expression closes off. “The truth doesn’t require elaboration.”

“Had we met yet?”

“Dean -”

“Had we?”

“No,” Cas says with finality. “It was while I was an undergraduate student. Beltane - I had not adequately been warned.”

“I’d say,” Dean says faintly. He gives himself a little shake. Truth. No, no that truth. But something big enough to count for Cas’s secret-hungry curse. “I once almost sold my soul to a demon,” he says in a low voice.

Still, Cas reacts like he received an electric shock. He jumps and stares at Dean, his blue eyes wide. “You almost sold your soul? When?”

Dean grimaces. “Pretty sure the truth doesn’t require elaboration or some bullshit like that.”

Cas lips press together in a thin line. “When?” he repeats.

“We were kids,” Dean says with a sigh. “My dad was out of town, and Sam fell in with a bad crowd. Wound up literally stabbed in the back. Plus concussion. If he didn’t pull through, I had all the stuff ready for the nearest crossroads. Thank god the nurses and the docs could work their magic”

Cas’s rigid posture loses some tension. “I’m glad Sam pulled through.”

“Yeah, since I’m pretty sure I’d be in Hell by now,” Dean says, forcing a smile on his face. “Your turn.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been truly happy,” Cas says, glancing down at the instrument in his hands. “I’ve been content before. I’ve appreciated the route of flowers. I’ve masturbated, which is very satisfactory but also very fleeting.” He shrugs. “I adore my work, my friends. What am I missing?”

Dean gulps, but the words fail him.

Cas checks the secret measurer again. “I think one big one might do it,” he says hopefully.

Right, well, here goes nothing.

Cas says, “I ate the last slice of pie you were saving,” while Dean blurts, “I like you.”

Dean stares at him, his face heating to approximately a thousand fucking degrees.

Cas doesn’t help, sitting there with his perfect, gobsmacked face, not saying a word.

“Right,” Dean says, eyeing the secret measurer, which has gone haywire. The top bit is spinning like the secret lovechild of a fork and a windmill. He jumps to his feet. “Looks like the spell’s broken, so I’m going to-”

“Wait,” Cas says quickly as he reaches over to grab Dean’s arm. “You like me?”

Dean’s jaw clenches. He can’t refute, but he can’t say it again.

“I had no idea,” Cas says, his voice and eyes unbearably kind.

“It’s fine,” Dean says brusquely. “Forget it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll make everything awkward,” Dean says, his tone clipped.

Cas’s grip has turned to iron around Dean’s forearm. Meeting Dean’s gaze squarely, he says, “You don’t think I like you back.”

Dean falters. “Because you don’t?” he tries.

Cas just stares at him as butterflies take flight in the pit of Dean’s stomach.

“But,” Dean starts, “You never said anything. Not even for the spell.”

Cas tilts his head, a rueful expression coming over his face. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”