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[deanandcasheadcanons]

But Misha as the leader of an anti-facist fight group that has sworn to eradicate the rival organisation of vile neonazis that keep terrorizing the minorities of the neighborhood.

Jensen as the newly elected police sheriff who tries desperately to keep the peace while still doing his duty by protecting the weekly marches of the nazis from attacks by Misha’s gang.

The situation threatening to escalate when someone has been beaten almost to death by the nazis. Misha’s more savage friends swearing vengeance and already preparing for a honest to God street fight. The higher-ups pressuring Jensen into violently intervening *before* anything can escalate. Jensen reaching out to Misha in order to avoid more violence. Misha being very sceptical, but intrigued, having conditions. 

Jensen trying to keep his balance between twenty politicians, his boss, his far-right father and his highly unprofessional, growing feelings for the intimidating punk Misha Collins.

Misha trying to keep the wild ones under control, battling group- internal ass-old conflicts, afraid of what might happen if Jensen loses the fight against the conservative city council, afraid what might happen if one of theirs throws the first stone, afraid *for* Jensen. But also afraid for himself, for his morals, his convictions, in the face of his unexpected crush on the new police sheriff.

[deanandcasheadcanons]

Alright, so since the guys over at the DCBB might take some time, I’m gonna post this here in the meantime. Because it’s my and dirtyovercoat’s posting day and it’s about time you guys get the read the one and only Cockles fic of this year!

Title: Among Us Artist: dirtyovercoats Pairing: Jensen/Misha Wordcount: 30,000 Rating: NC-17 Summary: Drama and unexpected plot twists are what you sign up for when you decide to work as an actor on a soap opera like ‘Among Us’. What you don’t sign up for is meeting a guy who isn’t supposed to be your love interest but ends up as just that both on and off camera anyway. Jensen learns that the hard way.

Here’s the trailer my wonderful artist made for this story:

https://youtu.be/_7GliqHy5co

Fic Masterpost | Art Masterpost | AO3 | PDF

[deanandcasheadcanons]

Movie Hawkeye: Disciplined, straight faced, some well thought out witty one liners.

Comic Hawkeye: Fuck this, fuck that, I want coffee, why am I not asleep? Pizza is great. I hate this, aw no. Oh god I said the wrong thing, where is my filter? Fuck me, why am I doing this? What am I doing- FUCK MOTHERFU- OH LOOK A DOG CAN I PET IT?

[deanandcasheadcanons]

I imagine Dean and Cas having this relationship well into their golden years where Dean claims he’s only doing something because Cas wants to, and honestly Cas couldn’t care less, but he knows Dean’s just putting on an act because he secretly wants to do it, so Cas plays along, anyway.

Like they’ll be at a wedding reception or maybe even just at a crappy bar with live music, and Dean’s just polishing off a beer that tips him into pleasantly buzzed when he looks over at Cas, sighs the most obnoxious sigh and says, “Ugh, all right, come on.”

Dean’ll get up from his chair and motion his fingers towards Cas, and even though Cas knows precisely where this is going because it’s happened exactly 27 times before, he chooses to feign innocence with those big baby blues of his. Much more fun that way. “What, Dean?”

“You’ve got that look in your eye again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you know perfectly well what you’re doing. You’re anglin’ for a dance, and if I leave you hanging, you’ll never let me live it down.”

Cas is finding it increasingly hard to bite back a grin. “That does put you in quite the predicament.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna be in the doghouse tonight, so you get your ass out there so I can dance the pants off of you.”

“I take it you intend for this romantic gesture to take a literal turn.”

Dean winks as one hand slips into the other. “Can’t get anything past you, Cas. Always see right through me.”

Yes. Yes, he does.

Soon as they hit the dance floor, though, the lights get a little dimmer, the music a little softer as the band announces an “anonymous” request for "Faithfully.”

“Really? A Journey ballad?” Dean says with that same pseudo-disgust that still makes Cas’ heart skip a beat even for the 28th time. “God, you’re such a sap, Cas.”

And although he’s 100% certain that request was jotted down in Dean’s handwriting (Cas saw him sneak off in search of a pen earlier), Cas will just smile that small smile of his, pressing his forehead to Dean’s as he lets Dean envelop him, nuzzling him with the brush of his nose and the graze of his lips. “I suppose I can’t get anything past you, either.”

[deanandcasheadcanons]

dean's reaction to praise kink the first time cas (presumably semi-unintentionally) enacts it on him??? awkward? blushing? weird macho denial that it affects him? DO TELL, MY FRIEND

He isn’t trying, the first time. He’s not thinking much at all about what he’s saying. It’s hard to think with Dean’s mouth on him, Dean kneeling between his legs while Castiel tries not to fall back onto the bed with the sheer overwhelming pleasure of it, holds himself up with trembling arms because he wants to see this. He wants to watch every second: Dean’s closed eyes fluttering and sweat trickling down his shoulders as he pushes his mouth lower, a little at a time, sucks gently and swirls his tongue around Castiel’s cock and clutches at Castiel’s thigh to keep his balance.

He’s working at it, absolutely and single-mindedly devoted to making Castiel feel this good, and his soft, happy noises are proof enough how much he wants to do it, even if Castiel hadn’t seen how hard he’d gotten just from sinking down and licking his lips a few times, hadn’t seen the shudder that ran all through him when he first nuzzled his soft, barely-open lips against the head and breathed in deep, hadn’t noticed the way his cock had stirred and swelled and strained against his stomach. Dean is so happy to do this, he’s so good, and Castiel barely has the presence of mind to notice he’s saying anything at all, much less say anything in particular on purpose. But when he murmurs that out loud, sliding one trembling hand lightly into Dean’s hair–feels so good, oh, oh you’re so good–

From the way Dean stiffens all over, at first Castiel thinks he’s done something wrong. He yanks his hand back with just a sliver of fear, tries to remember what he said, if there’s something he’s forgotten, another broken shard between them like all the others that kept them apart for so long and still trip them up, sometimes, now that they’ve finally started to be–this. Together. To do this, and he says, carefully, “Dean?”

Dean shivers again, less intensely, and looks up at him, flashes a shaky grin. “It’s fine,” he says. “You didn’t…I’m not…it’s fine.”

He’s shifting awkwardly on his knees, and he keeps glancing back down like it’s hard for him to meet Castiel’s eyes, but his voice is–well, a little hoarse, but steady, mostly. And honest. Castiel can tell by now; they can both tell. They know each other.

He knows Dean. And–well. This isn’t a surprise.

“Okay,” he says, and runs his fingers through Dean’s hair again, resting his palm around the curve of his skull. Dean pushes back into the touch, just a little, and lets out a small relieved sigh, before his eyes flutter closed again as he leans forward again, opening his mouth to let Castiel inside him, wet heat and sweetness wrapping around him. Dean pushes himself further, further, cheeks hollowing a little, and a wave of sheer affection washes over Castiel, almost violent in its intensity; he can’t not speak.

“So good,” he says again, and doesn’t stop when Dean whimpers around his cock. “You’re so good for me–trying so hard, you are, aren’t you–” He slides his palm down to curve around the back of Dean’s neck, not pushing, just holding him, and the choked desperate moan that gets him is almost too much; he has to bite his lip hard before continuing but he does, because Dean likes this, Dean loves this, and Castiel knows with absolute certainty that Dean would never, ever have asked him for it.

“I love the way you look like this,” he says, hearing the tremble in his own voice, “when you close your eyes and–work, you’re not even touching yourself–”

Dean’s grip on his thigh tightens and he starts to rock back and forth on his knees, just a little, just his hips moving restlessly as a red stain spills down his face, throat, chest.

Castiel doesn’t have long now, but he never wants to stop, not just the feeling of Dean’s mouth slick and tight and working at him but the feeling of doing this to Dean. What he can do to Dean with just words, just the truth, just what he couldn’t stop himself from saying anyway, not even if he tried. “So good,” he pants, reduced now, and Dean is shaking and Castiel manages to say it again, again, “so good,” he says, “love you, oh–” and then he’s coming, and words aren’t an option anymore.

The sensation of Dean swallowing around him tugs another shapeless groan from Castiel’s mouth, and though it can’t be more than a few more seconds, the rest of his orgasm seems to last for a long time. He keeps his eyes fixed on Dean, who swallows and pulls back a little and struggles to catch all of what Castiel gives him, to take everything perfectly, licking at his lips as he finally pulls off with a sloppy wet noise.

Almost instantly he’s pressing his forehead against Castiel’s stomach, shaking hard. Not moaning, now; Castiel can hear the bitten-back sounds trapped in his throat and even though he can barely move yet it’s simply necessary to lean forward and wrap both arms around Dean and tug him up awkwardly until Castiel can hold him, lie back and let Dean pant against his throat and thrust against Castiel’s hip once–twice, a third time is all it takes before he’s coming with a wet half-sobbing gasp, the sudden heat spilling between them.

He doesn’t move for a minute, except to shift a little and slot them together more comfortably. Castiel lets them lie in silence, holds on tight. Listens to Dean’s breath slow along with his heartbeat.

When both are almost back to normal Dean tenses for a second, then surges up and kisses him hard–or, not hard, precisely, but–fierce. Wild. “Cas,” he says, barely above a whisper, “fuck, Cas…”

“You’re perfect,” Castiel tells him, and lets Dean kiss the words off his lips. He has plenty more where they came from.

[deanandcasheadcanons]

ok you know the trope of how like, Cas smells like ozone or feels like electricity hangs around him differently and like has eyes that seem to be seeing thousands of years of time all while looking at you, and all that?

in my experience, we always get those perspectives from DEAN’s pov in fic.

so like. what if one time he’s talking to sam about all these aspects of cas, and he’s like, “gah and you know how he just makes you feel incredibly small and monumentally important all at the same time, and he feels like a thunderstorm trapped in a body and -”

and he stops because sam’s looking at him strange and is like, “…no dude i have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. cas is just cas.”

and thats how dean starts to realize that maaaaaaybe he and cas have something of a unique relationship

[deanandcasheadcanons]

Pretend marriage fic in which Dean and Cas don’t actually mind being saddled together in a big suburban house to play husbands, but actually terrorize the fuck out of their neighbours with all their bickering, awful behaviour and their ridiculous schedule. They argue with everybody and are so stupidly affectionate with each other that everybody in the neighborhood falls for it right away, but nobody actually likes them except maybe for a bunch of misfit teenagers and half of the girl scout squad.

[deanandcasheadcanons]

Ask Me Next Time

Prompt/Summary: Inspired by the lack of jensen/misha hurt/comfort. (and because I’m cockles trash af)

Main Pairing: Jensen x Misha 

Other Characters: Jared Padalecki, Clif Kosterman

Warnings: vague descriptions of injuries 

AO3 Tags: violence, hurt/comfort, hurt!misha, worried!jensen, supportive!jared, kissing

Word Count: 2242

(Originally posted on AO3) 

It’s almost 2am when his cell rings. Rolling over, he grabs it from the bedside table and answers the call without even checking who it is.

“It’s Misha.” Jared’s voice comes crackling through the cell. 

Weiterlesen

[deanandcasheadcanons]

Could you please cheer me up with some cockles headcanons or just talk to me about cockles? I just relapsed and I feel awful :(

I’m sorry, Nonny. You will get through this.

I like to think that Jensen and Misha are close enough, that they will text each other old pictures of themselves … like from when they were younger, before they ever got into acting. And then, one way or another, the conversation will turn into what they would have done if they knew each other back then. Would they have played together? Would they have come up with pranks to pull on their other friends. Then Misha will talk about all the antics he did pull in his youth, and Jensen can only sigh– smiling through the phone as he says: “I wish I could have been there for that, man.”

Sometimes, I’m sure Misha is sad when he doesn’t get to see Jensen’s musical performances in person. He might have been sleeping, or doing some fan-related thing … but more often than not, he misses his friend being a rock god. So, instead of settling, waiting for the youtube videos to get posted like all the other fan girls, Misha sneaks out to Jensen’s hotel room, tapping lightly on the door– barely waiting long enough for it to open all the way before he’s pushing Jensen back inside, demanding a repeat performance. And … we all know, Jensen can never say no to Misha.

I bet that the family trips are what they enjoy most. The occasions where both Jensen and Misha, their wives and all the kids can come together and just relax. Not only is it a time where they can feel like just a big group of normal people, but there is also not a shred of guilt to be had when they’re all in the same room. Whenever they are laughing and hanging out on set, Jensen and Misha are still missing Danneel and Vicki– Maison, West and JJ … and the same when they are at their homes … they are missing each other. But when they are all together, they can reach out for a hand, and no matter whose falls into theirs, whether it’s tiny, sticky fingers, or a soft, gentle palm, or something more rough and calloused– both the men are nothing but smiles knowing that everything they want is just within an arm’s reach.

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It’s 5 o’clock in the morning when Sam hears a knock on his door.

“Yeah, come in.”

Cas slides in and carefully shuts the door behind him. He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and one of Dean’s t-shirts. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry, Sam. I had to do this before your brother wakes up.”

Sam sits up and tries to look attentive. “Yeah, dude, it’s fine. What’s up?”

“I know that American tradition requires that the man ask the father for his daughter’s hand in marriage, but considering our circumstances, I thought this might be the next best thing.”

“Cas, what the hell are you–”

“I would like to ask your brother to marry me.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“And it would…mean a lot to me to have your permission. Before I ask. I want to ask tonight.” Cas folds his arms over himself as if he’s actually nervous that Sam’s going to say no.

Instead of responding right away, Sam crawls out of bed and walks over to Cas to wrap him in a hug. “Of course you can ask Dean to marry you. That’s–really, that’s fucking thrilling news, man.”

They pull away from each other, and Sam feels himself tearing up at how ecstatic Cas looks.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Cas, really. I mean, you’re family already. This is even better.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Cas’ demeanor changes before he says, “I have to go. I have a lot to plan.”

An hour later, Sam and Dean are sipping coffee in the kitchen while Cas is “out running errands.”

Out of absolutely nowhere and with no preamble, Dean states, “Dude, I think I want to ask Cas to marry me.”

Sam chokes on his coffee.

[deanandcasheadcanons]

But please tell me more about Dean being the obnoxiously charming and morally questionable treasure hunter and Cas being the prim and proper professor that won’t stop complaining about everything with his dry sense of humor and they both constantly drive each other up a wall until one night they both have a near-death experience searching deep in the Amazon rainforest for an ancient artifact and the weather is torrential and their hearts are pounding and they’re gasping for breath because holy shit they almost died and maybe they both get around to thinking hey, if they’re not going to make it out of this alive, they might as well die knowing that they’ve given each other the greatest fuck of their lives. 

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Dean and Cas own competing sandwich shops across the street. Cas’s is really refined, and he spends all his time plating in the back, while Dean’s is family style, ad he works in the front doing a whole bunch of different things. 

One day (against his will), Cas gets dragged to Dean’s place by Gabe because the latter wants to check out the competition. Though he tries to hate it–Hunter’s Helper is the competition, after all–Castiel thoroughly enjoys the comfort food and relaxed atmosphere of the place, and starts showing up every day for lunch. Dean thinks he’s attractive and starts flirting with him. Cas becomes a regular.

But on a random Thursday, Castiel is swamped and doesn’t make it across the street. Samandriel is sick so Cas is stuck doing the entire service alone, while his cousin Gabe (usually in charge of desserts) is on cash. He’s incredibly frazzled, and his panic gets even worse when Dean decides to take an early lunch, and consequently decides to check out the competition. 

Dean sees Cas rushing around and just kinda smirks when he gets up to the counter. His nerves fried and pushed over the edge, Castiel spills the coffee he’s carrying and burns his arms. Dean immediately begins walking around the counter to help, but Cas waves him off and works through the rush. Fumbling, he slides Dean’s food across the counter. 

Dean sits at a table in the corner and smiles at him until the rush tapers off. He then offers to buy Castiel lunch. Hesitantly, Cas agrees, and he’s completely forgotten about his burned appendages until Dean asks if he has a first aid kit. Sitting on the counter in the employee bathroom, Dean puts a compress on his skin and applies burn cream and bandages. 

“So,” Dean asks, winding gauze around angry red skin. “You work in a sandwich shop and go eat lunch at a competing sandwich shop?”

Cas shrugs, delicately clearing his throat. He’s blushing. “I suppose I simply enjoy the fare.”

[deanandcasheadcanons]

Misha is a bit of a masochist. If he knows something is bad—potentially painful to look at, or will probably eat away at his brain if he thinks about it too long, he should turn away from it. But instead, he runs to it with open arms and welcomes the torture like an old friend. 

This is how he ended up reading Cockles fan fiction until three in the morning.

Most of it was enough to make him want to wriggle out his skin with embarrassment. All those scenarios of how he and Jensen apparently get together—or the AU’s where fuck all could happen .. it was … intense. And now he has images in his mind that will surely never leave until he’s long dead. But, with reading so much, he did start to find common themes throughout that were intriguing; and he’s guessing that the things that are repeated are the things that fans enjoy thinking about the most.

Jensen singing to him is a popular one; and here’s an obsession with his thighs for some reason that somehow always makes Jensen  want to fawn over them … and then there’s all the “Destiel is finally becoming canon” and “oops, now we love each other” shit. They are all rather amusing in the end, but … Misha understands their allure. One thing he hadn’t really expected though and –  well, he can’t really laugh at it either, is the common desire to see him obsess over Jensen’s freckles. Of course, he—the real him, has noticed the guy’s freckles a dozen times. They’re hard to miss when you’re up close to the man, but he can’t say he’s ever truly dwelled on them.

Not until he read all that damn fan fiction.

Now, here he is—sitting next to Jensen and staring at the little speckles that are running over his cheeks, splashing across his ears—down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. Misha is sitting here, head resting on his fist, daydreaming about the patterns that might splay out along the man’s chest. He’s actually curious and he’s mentally kicking himself for never taking a close look during the times he’s seen Jensen without a shirt. 

Why though?

Why should he care? Why should he want to know at all? Except … he does and he wants to solely blame the fan fiction … but with this level of interest, he’s not sure he can. 

“What are you staring at?”

Jensen’s question yanks him violently out of his internal warfare and back to the present– the present where they aren’t fucking. They aren’t singing to the other one or reading out long love sonnets– the present where  they aren’t secretly yearning for each other … at least, they shouldn’t be.

Misha pulls his head up and looks into those “fan fiction” green eyes—fuck, he needs to never read that shit again. “Your … your freckles” Misha admits, knowing that he’s too old to lie over such silly things.

Jensen looks at him a long time, a small twitch to his lips as he ponders the statement … and Misha can’t help but notice the little specks that are hiding around the corners of his friend’s mouth.

With a small laugh and a steady sigh, the man beside him finally smiles—standing up slightly to scoot his chair in closer to Misha’s space. Once he settles back down, Jensen leans in, turning his head to the side and glancing into blue eyes from the corner of his. “Well …” he says with a glint of shiny, white teeth. “How many are there?”

[deanandcasheadcanons]

The interns at St Garrison’s Hospital agree that Dean harbours symptoms of some sort of illness. However, Dean runs away before they could finish their diagnosis.

——

firefighter!Dean and doc!Cas au

[deanandcasheadcanons]

okay but punk!cas with blue hair who acts all tough and sarcastic and rarely ever smiles, but blushes like an idiot whenever dean does something cute like kissing his nose or calling him a “punk nerd” who’s with me

[deanandcasheadcanons]

It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?

[deanandcasheadcanons]

But after they haven been with each other for the first time, after Cas has pushed Dean onto his belly, draped himself all over his back and has taken him with desperate, deep rolls of his hips and tender hands and an endless stream of murmured adorations right into his ear, after both of them have come gasping each other’s names and with their hands intertwined, Dean totally would have a little nervous breakdown and burst into hysterical laughter, shaking up Cas who’s still on top of and inside him with it, just laughing and laughing until he’s crying and choking and gasping for air. Because they actually fucking did it, Dean actually confessed his feelings to an Angel of the Lord and instead of smiting him for it, that very same Angel made fucking love to him, kissed him unceasingly and held his hand and made him feel so good, and it was absolutely everything and so much more than he had ever dreamed it to be. And it’s so unbelievable and yet was such a long time coming that the relief and afterglow and happiness and the very fucking presence of Cas all around him are simply too much for Dean to handle, for him not to crack up and cry.

And Cas understands, he truly does, as he himself still feels like he is floating and caught up in a dream, so all he does is stay draped over Dean’s back, as warm and grounding as he hopes it to be, and draws slow circles all over Dean chest and tummy and places patient little kisses to Dean’s trembling shoulders and just holds him in his arms for as long as it takes for him to settle, for Dean – and himself – to understand that they really get to have this.