#barista castiel
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Day 27: Liar
“Name?” Castiel asks without looking up from the plain paper cup in his hands.
“Bruce Wayne.”
Castiel frowns at the unnecessary last name, but dutifully writes down the necessary information. “Large red eye,” he tells Meg as he passes the cup along.
Meg snorts – an odd reaction even for her – but takes it.
“Seriously?” Bruce asks, his expression flabbergasted.
“He wouldn’t know a reference if it zip tied him with a grappling hook,” Meg cuts in. “Unless you want to stand here for the next ten minutes explaining Batman, you’d better get a move on.”
“Thank you, Meg,” Castiel says sourly, catching onto Bruce’s little game. “Is that all, Bruce?”
Lips pressed together like he’s holding in a smile, Bruce hands over a ten dollar bill. “Yep, that’s it.” His eyes flick down to Castiel’s chest where a name tag would be, if this university coffee shop gave a crap about making sure their student baristas complied to a dress code. “What’s your name?”
Castiel purses his lips. “None of your business.”
Bruce whistles. “Cold, man. That’s cold.”
“That’s Clarence for you,” Meg says as she hands over Bruce’s red eye.
“Clarence?” Bruce repeats, grinning from ear to ear.
“A nickname,” Castiel says, shooting down that train of thought before it can ever leave the station. He doesn’t need two people calling him that.
“Hm,” Bruce says, “We’ll see.”
* * *
“Name?”
“Fox Mulder.”
Castiel looks up at the odd response, not that he should really be throwing stones when it comes to first names. “Oh, you,” he says as he catches sight of Bruce’s – Fox’s? – smirking face.
“Me,” he says with a wink.
Castiel exhales a put-upon sigh. “I take it Fox isn’t your real name either?”
“Nope,” Fox says cheerfully. “Large red eye, please.”
After Castiel writes the made up name on the paper cup, Meg takes it from him with a grin. “Fox,” she reads out loud. “Caught any aliens lately?”
“Not today,” Fox says, “maybe after English.” He eyes Castiel warily. “You’ve really never seen the X-Files?” At Castiel’s bemused shake of his head, Fox demands, “How?”
“Is it a movie or a television show?”
Fox scoffs, “It’s just one of the most influential TV shows of the 90s.”
Over by the espresso machine, Meg snorts. In a carrying voice, she says, “I had to make him watch Friends last semester. You’re fighting a losing battle.”
Clinically, Castiel observes, “You seem very invested in this.”
Fox gapes at him. “But –”
“Order up, Agent Mulder!” Meg calls from the other end of the counter.
Muttering darkly to himself, Fox stalks off to grab his drink.
That night, Castiel searches Bruce Wayne Google and dozens of movies come up, plus a television show, and decades-worth of comic books.
He spends the night watching the first season of the X-Files instead.
* * *
“Hello,” Castiel says as Bruce/Fox steps up to the register. “What can I get for you today?” he asks politely, already reaching for the large paper cups.
Bruce/Fox smirks, his eyes following Castiel’s hands. “A large red eye.”
“Name?”
“Obi Wan Kenobi.”
Castiel frowns down at the cup. “Should I write Obi or Obi Wan?”
Obi makes a face that can only be described as distressed. “Goddamn, no Star Wars either?”
“Obi it is, then,” Castiel says, copying it down.
“Obi Wan if you’re nasty,” he says in a low voice, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
Castiel blinks. “Please tell me that’s another reference.”
Obi’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, it is.”
“Don’t worry, Jedi, I’ll fill him in,” Meg says as she takes the empty cup from him.
Castiel scowls at her. “You don’t need to do that,” he tells her sharply. “I can figure it out on my own.” As Meg stares at him in disbelief, he retorts, “I watched Batman Begins and the X-Files last week.”
“You did?” Obi asks, delighted. “So, what’d you thin –”
“Red eye for Obi Wan,” Meg interrupts.
“We’re not done here,” Obi promises Castiel as Meg shoves his cup at him and waves goodbye.
The next day, after Meg hears that Castiel watched Episode I – the logical beginning, any sane person would reason – she quickly sets him right with Episode IV and warns him to never slip to Obi he started with JarJar.
* * *
“Name?”
“Indiana Jones.”
Castiel frowns. “Are you ever going to give me your real name?”
Indiana leans in, bracing one elbow on the counter. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He smiles, his green eyes crinkling at the corners.
Castiel’s brain fritzes out.
But before he can gather his wits together, Meg interrupts their conversation, “Move along, Indy, he’s not interested.”
Castiel gives himself a little mental shake to get it together. “What will you be having today?”
Indy scowls at Meg. “A large red eye.”
Castiel writes Indy in black letters on the cup as he gestures for the next person to come forward to order. “Thank you and please come again.”
“You come again,” Indy retorts nonsensically as he flees to the other end of the counter to wait.
* * *
From behind the register, Castiel narrows his eyes as his most memorable regular saunters up to the counter. “Hello,” he says, already reaching for the large cup. “Large red eye?”
“Yeah,” he says, staring at Castiel intently.
“Name?”
“Butch Cassidy.” As Castiel writes Butch along the side, Butch asks, “Damn, no westerns in your arsenal either?”
Castiel shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Shame.”
But Butch doesn’t move down the counter as their conversation lulls. Ignoring the two caffeine-deprived students behind him, he says in a casual voice, “I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t shoot me down the other day – your little partner in crime did.”
Behind Castiel, Meg snorts. “What?” she asks as he throws her a curious look. “They’re good puns.”
Butch’s jaw drops.
Castiel blinks, equally surprised at Meg’s response. “I didn’t know you liked puns.”
“What you don’t know about me could fill a bible,” Meg says flippantly. She nudges him in the shoulder. “Pay attention, Sundance.”
Butch clears his throat. “So, what do you say...?” he pauses, “I still don’t know your name.”
Castiel bites his lip. “You don’t know me at all.”
Butch grimaces. “That’s the point of going out, man.”
Castiel glances at Meg, who rolls her eyes. “I’m not your keeper, Clarence. Do what you want.”
“I’m sorry, but no,” Castiel says, quietly but firmly. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable going out with someone I barely know.”
“Fine,” Butch says. “But I’m gonna keep getting my coffee here.”
Castiel huffs a noise that might be a laugh. “I look forward to it.”
Butch grabs a napkin and scrawls something on it. “’S not my number, don’t worry,” he says as he thrusts it at Castiel. “In case you forget.”
As he walks off, Castiel reads Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969).
* * *
After that, he starts leaving Castiel all sorts of recommendations on napkins, from Ghostbusters to Top Gun to Dirty Dancing (Meg has a good laugh when he uses a name from that movie).
“How come you don’t get any of my references?” he – James T. Kirk, today – asks. “It’s not that you don’t like movies or TV shows, or else you wouldn’t watch them after I bring them up.”
Castiel shrugs. “My parents never invested in a television or cable package, and going to movies alone was never particularly appealing to me.”
“Clarence grew up very sheltered,” Meg adds.
He cranes his neck to glare at her.
“What?” James stares. “Going to the movies alone is the best.”
Castiel reins in his surprise; James exudes such charm that would no doubt entrap any passers-by into attending the film with him.
“It’s the ultimate escape,” James continues. “You just sit there and watch the movie and forget about all the crap in your normal life. ’S why I’m a cinema studies major.”
“That doesn’t sound… too bad,” Castiel says tentatively. “I’m majoring in classics.”
The next day, James, going by Frodo Baggins, hands Castiel a ten dollar bill for his red eye and a single ticket to the local theater for the current blockbuster playing at 8pm.
* * *
Castiel smiles as his favorite customer approaches. “Name?”
“Freddy Krueger.”
Meg snorts.
“What?” Freddy asks her over Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m thinking I should do theme-weeks. Like, Halloween’s in a few days.”
Castiel doesn’t bother confirming his red eye, and instead writes Freddy on the cup and hands it to Meg.
As she prepares Freddy’s drink, Freddy grabs a napkin.
Castiel reads Nightmare on Elm Street upside down before he takes the note from Freddy. “I was thinking,” he says as he pockets it, “You proposed a deal earlier.”
Freddy’s expression turns intrigued. “What deal?”
“I’ll tell you my name, if you tell me yours,” Castiel repeats.
Freddy grins. “Seriously?” He waits a beat, his eyes narrowing as the silence drags on. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I am not,” Castiel promises. “So? What’s your real name?”
Freddy taps his fingers against the counter as he deliberates his next move. “I dunno, you tell me,” he says, his voice infuriatingly playful.
Castiel crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you five? You need me to go first?”
Freddy nods.
Castiel stares him down.
Freddy stares right back.
“Large red eye for Freddy Kruger!” Meg announces loudly, and more than a few heads swivel around in surprise.
“We’re not done here,” Freddy swears as he takes the cup from her.
“I didn’t think we were,” Castiel says pleasantly.
* * *
“Your name?”
“Michael Myers.”
“That’s not your real name, is it?” Castiel asks suspiciously. Michael has used a few normal-sounding names before.
“Nope.”
Castiel rolls his eyes as he scrawls a messy Michael on a paper cup. “You can give me your real name, you know.”
“So could you,” Michael vollies back.
“You guys are so disgusting,” Meg says, snatching the cup out of Castiel’s lax hand. “Just get the big reveal over with. I’m getting cavities over here.”
“Sure, once he goes first,” Michael says. “I put in all this work to drop a new John Hancock every day; it’s the least he could do.”
“Like it’s work for you,” Castiel retorts. “You once dropped five references in a single sentence! You do it as easily as breathing.”
Michael scowls. “Tell you what, let’s up the ante. I guess your name first, and you go out to the movies with me.”
Castiel freezes. Michael hadn’t brought up dating since that first time he asked Casitel out. Deep down, Castiel knew he hadn’t let it go, or else he would stop flirting over coffee and keeping up the parade of fake names. But still, the request takes him by surprise. “And what if I guess first?”
Michael shrugs. “Whatever you want.”
Castiel holds his hand out to shake on it.
Grinning, Michael does. “You’ve got yourself a deal… James?”
“That was your name a month ago,” Castiel tuts. “Try again.”
* * *
“Steve,” he says before Castiel can even ask for his name-of-the-day.
“C’mon, does he look like a Steve to you?” Meg asks, pinching Castiel’s cheek as she passes.
Castiel swats her hand out of the way. “My name isn’t Steve.”
“Damn.”
“I’ll get that red eye for you,” Castiel says, glancing up at him from lowered lashes, “Sam?”
He bursts out laughing. “Close – that’s my little brother’s name.”
“Right, well, what should I write on the cup, then?”
“Let’s go with Norman Bates,” Norman says, still chuckling.
“Going old school?” Meg calls appreciatively from over by the espresso machine. “Nice.”
“If it ain’t broke,” Norman says with a shrug. He turns to Castiel. “Are you dressing up for Halloween this year?”
Castiel purses his lips. “I wasn’t planning on it, but now I understand a great deal more costumes than last year.”
“That’s the spirit,” Norman says, his eyes sparkling.
* * *
Castiel’s usual, “Name?” dies on his tongue as he takes in how tired his favorite customer looks. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he says before yawning hugely. “Pulled an all nighter last night to marathon a few movies I slept through during lecture.” He grimaces. “Breathless can go fuck itself, and if anyone says French New Age film revolutionized cinema, run in the other direction.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Castiel says. “Name?”
“Ichabod Crane. Seriously, I almost fell asleep again –”
The customer behind him coughs loudly, and Castiel’s gaze flicks over his shoulder to see - “Dean?” he says.
Ichabod straightens, his face paling. “How’d you –”
“Large red eye, Meg!” Castiel calls as he gestures to the next person to step forward. “What can I get you Dean Adler?”
Castiel’s hard-ass Roman Philosophy Professor and Dean of the College stands behind Ichabod, already looking annoyed at the wait. “Large black coffee with an extra shot and extra cream.”
“Of course,” Castiel says as he swipes Dean Adler’s card through the machine.
By the time he looks up, Ichabod has disappeared.
* * *
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets the next day.
Dean sheepishly smiles at him. “You figured it out?”
“Hard not to, when you went white as a sheet when I addressed the Dean,” Castiel says. “So I only thought it fair…” he drifts off, gesturing to his chest.
Dean’s eyes widen as he reads the HELLO MY NAME IS sticker stuck to Castiel’s shirt, along with a clearly printed CASTIEL below it.
“Cas-tee-el?” he sounds out. “For real?”
“Clarence was named after an angel,” Meg sing-songs from behind him.
Castiel rolls his eyes. “I won’t watch It’s a Wonderful Life on principle.”
Dean laughs. “It’s overrated, anyway.”
Castiel grabs a cup and writes Dean in his best handwriting, turning it around to show Dean.
He nods in approval. “So, you won. What’s your poison?” Dean grimaces. “I’m not getting on a plane – or listening to Jefferson Starship. There are some lines I won’t cross, even for a gentleman’s agreement.”
Castiel pulls out two tickets from his back pocket. “I was thinking we’d go see a movie.”
#suptober22#destiel#fanfic#destiel fanfic#friends to lovers#getting together#first meetings#castiel & meg masters#university au#student castiel#student dean#barista castiel#rae writes fic
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(don’t) stop texting me by feelthe_beat
96k
E
cas keeps getting texts meant for someone named dean. he can’t understand why someone would keep giving out the wrong number
#destiel fic#100k#rated E#coffee shop au#barista castiel#heed the tags on this one- it gets heavy#also something that isn't tagged is animal cruelty - it's brief but just know that the cat is ok but figured i'd warn since it upset me#but honestly this is soooo good#cas is so sweet and jack is lovely#also ahhh i love dean being obsessed with bath and body works
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Castiel in barista a/u
#castiel#castiel fanart#spn#supernatural#castiel supernatural#supernatural fanart#barista au#supernatural au#supernatural art
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So my friend who works at Starbucks told me a hot guy used to come on Fridays first thing in the morning, and he had a weird name and my friend ALWAYS misspelled it. Not on purpose or anything, but he kept trying to spell it differently and it never was the right way. Anyway. Imagine your otp.
#no but imagine dean trying to spell CASTIEL of all things#imagine your otp#barista#Barita trope#Coffee shop au#Coffee shop
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#there’s so many aus of this#but I can’t decided if he’d suck or not#spn#supernatural#castiel#polls#spn polls
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Haisley has picked up gardening by growing flowers on the terrace. She loves the calm activity of maintaining them whenever she's not working her Barista job or caring for baby Cas. Amelia has been working hard and secured a great promotion, and Castiel has been growing fast!
Previous ~ Next
-
Haisley ha aprendido a cultivar flores en la terraza. Le encanta la actividad tranquila de mantenerlas cuando no está trabajando como barista o cuidando al bebé. Amelia ha estado trabajando duro y consiguió un gran ascenso, ¡y Castiel ha estado creciendo rápidamente!
#ts4#ts4 legacy#ts4 gameplay#the sims 4#los sims 4#simblr#SimsInBloom#sims in bloom#sib prelude#manifoldsave#elysiantrait#*haisley jean#*castiel
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Request thing: Steve Roger + "you're so cute" "what did you just say?" "I said you look like a boot"
(Omif there are others feel free to ignore mines cause I am just being greedy now)
There aren't others. Pretty sure there's only 4 of you out there reading me anymore :D
word count: 1951
@bolontiku @rampant-salamander @castiels-sunflowers @feelmyroarrrr
__________
Steve Rogers irritated the shit out of you. From the moment Nick Fury thought you should babysit him, he’d just been annoying in all his ‘Gee Golly Ma’am’ goodness and earnest honesty and, well, and he just annoyed you. Sure, he was handsome, and his physique left not a single area needing improvement. And yes, his dry sense of humour and quick way with words made most people just fall into the Captain America fan club without questioning the price of admission. But you couldn’t. You’d been stung before. There was no way someone who looked like the whole package wasn’t hiding something.
You were parked at your desk, cursing a major snarl in traffic that had caused you to skip picking up a coffee. There was a cute barista at the coffee shop by your apartment and you’d been working your way up to asking his name, but missing a single day had made your courage evaporate. You dug through your drawer, but had apparently run out of pods for the office keurig. Digging into your purse, you pulled out a few bills and made your way to the coffee shop on the main floor.
Smothering a yawn, you made your order and tried to pay. The young woman behind the counter shook her head and tilted it to where the drinks were coming up. “He paid for you, ma’am.” You followed her gaze over and cringed. Of course, it was goddamn Steve.
“Thanks,” you grumbled as you approached him. He smiled.
“My pleasure, Agent,” he nodded. After a brief pause, he continued, “You’re a tough nut to crack, you know. I’m never quite sure what you think of all this.” He gestured around vaguely.
“I’m really into coffee. So this is okay,” you replied, deliberately being difficult. He frowned, and then sighed.
“I kind of meant what you think about this.” Again, the gesture was vague, but he included himself, and pointed obviously above you both, where the offices were.
“Does it matter? It pays well, I have great health insurance and a not-shitty 401K. It’s not exactly what I went to university for, but every day is different, and I’ve met some pretty interesting people,” you shrugged.
“Interesting way to look at it.” There was a soft, humble chuckle that escaped him and just made you even more irritated. You closed your eyes to avoid rolling them. Your name was called, and you opened your eyes, took your coffee and smiled blandly at him.
“Thanks for the joe, Steve,” you nodded again, and made your way back to your office.
__________
“I don’t want to go,” you protested to your handler. He sighed and glared at you.
“Look, your specialized knowledge of the era and the subject means that -”
“No, I get it. Really, I do. But what you’re asking me to do is straight-up psychological manipulation, which is not what I’m here for. I’m here because I have extensive specialized knowledge about the era and -”
“Your PhD is on the impact of the loss of Sgt. Barnes on the Howling Commandos and Steve. You have immense knowledge about Barnes, and about his friendship with Steve. If anyone is going to be able to work with Captain Rogers on the deprogramming of Barnes, it’s you. Whether or not you want to go, you are going.” Nick Fury had entered the room and interrupted you.
“But -” you started. Fury silenced you with a glare. You sighed and pursed your lips.
“You’re the only agent I’ve ever had complain about being assigned to work with Rogers,” he started. “Care to explain?”
“It has nothing to do with him, sir,” you lied. Fury raised his eyebrow, clearly not believing you.
“Figure it out. You two are wheels-up in an hour.”
__________
You leaned back in the quinjet hold and closed your eyes, trying to imagine Steve Rogers was not sitting across from you, staring daggers at you.
“I have to ask, Agent. What did I do that was so offensive? Was it the coffee? I know a lot of dames, er, women, don’t like it when men do that anymore,” he broke the silence.
“Not at all, I very much appreciated the coffee,” you replied, keeping your tone light. You were very well aware that your issue was with you, and not actually with him. You’d been mulling it over since he’d bought the damn coffee. All you could come up with was that you were behaving like a child with a crush. You couldn’t accept that you liked him, so you chose to dislike him instead.
“Did I say or do something at some other time?”
“Not at all,” you shook your head.
“Captain Rogers, we’re about to land,” the pilot interrupted. “Based on scans you have approximately three minutes once off the jet to find cover. There’s frequent patrols of the area by Hydra agents, and no real way to keep this bird off the radar.”
“We’ll finish this chat later,” Steve promised.
Once off the jet, you followed him into the forest to find cover. Just as the pilot had warned, it was not long after you deplaned that a patrol came by, and Steve tackled you into the underbrush. You pushed at him feebly, opening your mouth to protest, and he slapped his hand across your mouth, nodding to the west, where the crunch of leaves betrayed the patrol’s presence. Your eyes widened and you quit moving. When you were clear of danger, he rolled off you.
“Some warning would have been nice,” you whispered as you picked pine needles and moss out of your hair.
“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan,” he hissed back. “Hey goons, we’re over here!”
“I’m sure your super-soldiery brain could have figured out a way to give me a heads up before you tackled me,” you snapped back.
“Ingrate,” he muttered, loudly enough that you could hear him.
“Jackass,” you retorted. His eyebrow raised.
“Watch your language,” he warned.
“Because it might offend the hydra goon squad?” You asked.
“You know, dames didn’t used to talk like that.” His tone was tight. You rolled your eyes.
“I’d like to remind you, I’m an agent first, an expert in history second and a dame third, you fucking cro-magnon,” you spat. “Also, this isn’t my first rodeo, Cap. I’ve been on surveillance missions before. I also saw the patrol.”
Steve glared at you and shook his head. “Instead of arguing about the finer points of your genetic composition, do you think you can drop your hate for the rest of the mission? If Bucky’s here, I’d like to find him. And Fury assured me, you’re the agent for the job if we do.”
“Is that an order, Cap?” You asked. He looked away, and drew in a deep, steadying breath.
“Yes, agent, I believe it is,” he snapped.
__________
You’d been unsuccessful. You’d managed to infiltrate the base, but the cells were all empty. The base had just recently been cleared out, and there was enough equipment left behind that you felt confident it was where Sgt. Barnes had been held, at some point. On your way to the extraction point, you saw muzzle-flash and moved faster than you thought possible to knock Steve out of the way. A blinding pain struck you in the midsection and Steve turned around to watch you fall to the ground, a silent scream on your lips. The look of combined annoyance and fear on his face was the last thing you remembered seeing before blackness took you.
When you came to, it was so bright you blinked and lifted your hand to cover your eyes, pressing them shut again. There was an overpowering smell of antiseptic and an IV tethered to your right hand. A monitor beeped systematically and you realized it was a heart monitor when it matched pace with the thumping in your head. You were parched, and when you tried to push yourself to sit, a gentle hand landed on your chest, pressing you back into the mattress.
“Stay put. There’s a remote here, I’ll lift your head,” a gentle male voice rumbled. Your head slowly lifted and you tried opening your eyes again, just a little. Through your lashes, you saw Steve pouring you a glass of water. He held it out to you. “Just sips.”
It was cool against your lips, and you sucked in a couple of little chips of ice to suck on.
“Thanks,” you breathed. “What happened?”
“We didn’t find Bucky,” he started. “We were headed to the quinjet and you decided to play hero and jumped in front of a bullet.”
“You’re welcome,” you coughed. He raised the bed a little higher. Your eyes finally adapted to the bright light of the infirmary and you looked at him. He was still in his uniform, was wearing a fair amount of your blood and looked angry.
“What kind of idiotic idea was that, anyhow?” He demanded. Your ears rang at the heightened volume of his voice. You flinched in pain.
“I saw the muzzle flash and just moved,” you replied.
“A bullet wound to the shoulder would barely slow me down,” he snapped. “Instead you took one to the lung and required a few hours of surgery.”
“Sorry that I was such a huge inconvenience to you,” you managed. “Maybe you should make it clear to Fury that you don’t want to partner with me again.”
“Maybe if you didn’t have such a huge goddamn chip on your shoulder, we would have worked better together,” he retorted. You gestured to yourself, in your blue hospital gown, and IV tubing.
“I’m pretty sure the wound is right here,” you gestured to the dressing on your side, “if you’re like to really get a few good kicks in while I’m down.”
He stood up and flipped his chair over before walking to the far wall and slamming his fist against it. “What the hell did I do? Why do you hate me?” You flinched away from his angry tone.
“I don’t, I don’t hate you, Cap, I just -”
“Bullshit,” he interrupted.
“Now who has a foul mouth?” You snapped. “I don’t hate you, Cap. I don’t. I just don’t know how to act around you and it makes me guarded and defensive, I guess.” You took another small sip of water.
“Because I’m somehow your enemy?” He asked. You could feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment and glanced up at the IV bag. It was pain medication. Go for it, you thought, at least you had plausible deniability due to the intoxicating effects of the medication.
“It’s just that you’re so cute, and you’re kind, and you’re so genuine, and you smell good and -”
“What did you just say?” He interrupted, pulling the chair back to the beside and sitting in it. He took your hand between his and looked at you intently. You’d said too much and felt the panic of admitting all of that hit you as he stared at you.
“Uh, I said you look like a boot and I’m pretty sure you’re out of your mind, and you smell like swine and -”
“That’s not what you said,” he laughed and squeezed your hand.
“I’m pretty sure I did,” you averted your gaze from his. He cupped your cheek in one of his hands and turned you back to face him. “I like you too.”
“Oh.”
“Get some rest. I’m going to get a shower so I stop smelling like swine, and I’ll be back.”
“Okay,” you nodded. He tucked your hand under the cover, smoothed your hair away and dropped a kiss on your forehead.
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destiel fic library
Hi! I'm abi, and I like to bend canon to suit all my whims and fancies.
I’ve finally done a masterpost of all my fics so far, everything is Castiel/Dean Winchester but as always: check the tags.
I mostly write canonverse, drowning in angst, and preferably explicit.
Always a happy ending.
15k+:
finale fix-it set after 15x19 > conversations with you (M)
dean is cursed by a djinn > this bitter nightcall (E)
castiel is human, but they aren’t on speaking terms; two person love triangle set in s9 > salt & iron (E, written for DCBB ‘22)
AU 15k+:
coffeeshop au; librarian castiel is tasked with fixing up his dad’s bookshop, and barista dean from next door helps > the barista and the bookshop (E, written for Pinefest ‘23)
serial killer au; sam is dead and dean needs a place to rest up, he answers a ‘roommate wanted’ advertisement stuck to the window of a coffee shop and meets professor castiel > like ivy (E, written for DeanCasHorrorfest ‘23)
one-shots:
cas gives dean a shoulder massage > touch-starved (M)
flirting behaviour > dean and cas play nsfw scrabble (M)
post-confession reunion > kissing is the most fun dean winchester can have without taking his clothes off (but it’s better if he does) (E)
collections/series’:
dean gives cas the mixtape > dean and cas - mixtape collection (G,M,E)
various smut > spoiler alert: they fuck (E)
g: general
m: mature
e: explicit
#destiel#destiel fanfic#deancas#deancas fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic writers#abi pins#destiel smut#destiel angst#ao3 writers
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The barista and the bookshop | Explicit | 55794
Author: abi_in_the_cosmos
Artist: Aggiedoll
In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, Dean Winchester has been running Squirrel and Moose Coffeehouse since his Dad died. Next door, anchored by family obligation, librarian Castiel has been tasked with taking over Chuck’s Bookshop.
Wanting a distraction after his brother leaves town, Dean offers to help Castiel fix it up. It’s a job, something to get his hands on, it doesn’t matter that the librarian is hot and kinda weird.
Castiel doesn’t understand why Dean is helping him, but he’s happy that he is, and their friendship grows until he can’t deny what’s right in front of him. But when their time together is cut short, both face a decision they aren’t ready for.
In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, what’s it gonna be?
Peace or freedom?
Link to fic | Link to art
Pairings: Dean/Cas (past Dean/Benny, past Dean/Lisa, past Cas/Mick)
Warnings: N/A
Tags: Coffee shop AU. Friends to lovers. Explicit sexual content.
#destiel#deancas#destiel fic#destiel art#deancas fic#deancas art#masterpost#2023 masterpost#pinefest 2023#author: abi_in_the_cosmos#artist: Aggiedoll
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a debt to be repaid
Rating: E
Length: 16.4k
For @deancodedcastielenby !
Ten years ago, Dean made a deal. To save his brother’s life, he promised a witch his firstborn child. It was a no-brainer since Dean never planned on churning out pups and settling down as the perfect house-omega. No, he was fine spending his fertile years sleeping around, wrapping it before tapping it, and all that jazz.
But now he has an angry, powerfully magical alpha on his doorstep, demanding payment.
Dean is so screwed - and not in the fun way.
Read here!
#destiel#fanfic#destiel fanfic#rae writes fic#omega dean winchester#alpha castiel#barista dean winchester#witch castiel
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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 17 | Friends to Lovers
Touch Me, Sit With Me, Tell Me To Stay | @aaronthe8thdemon
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 3,634
Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season/Series 15, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Out of the Empty (Supernatural), Grieving Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angel Castiel (Supernatural)
Summary: The day the car dies, Castiel thinks that he (and a great many humans, too) would give up so much to be loved half as well as Dean loves Baby.
Heartcatcher | Maetheheller (AO3)
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 4,975
Main Tags/Warnings: Nick Nelson from Heartstopper is a dean Winchester parallel, hand jobs, frottage, best friends to lovers, Charlie Dean Cas movie nights, The Boys references
Summary: Charlie, Dean, and Cas have a Heartstopper “movie night” and Dean doesn’t expect to relate so much to Nick Nelson, or find the courage to confess his feelings to Cas, his blue-eyed best friend, but sometimes good things do happen.
aperture | ilarual (AO3)
Rating: General
Word Count: 5,000
Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends To Lovers, It's Not Actually Unrequited They're Just Both Idiots, Oneshot
Summary: Dean keeps a photo collage of all the people he loves. Castiel is barely in it.
when the stars align | @twinone1221
Rating: General
Word Count: 20,550
Main Tags/Warnings: Camping AU, Mechanic!Dean Winchester, Teacher!Castiel, Car Trouble, Stargazing
Summary: Camping was something Castiel’s family loved for different reasons. Amelia loved to cook over an open fire, Jimmy enjoyed hikes the most, his niece Claire preferred riding her bicycle, and his son Jack always asked for stories while stargazing.
The plan was simple. Drive to the lake, spend some time with his family, eat some good food, sleep under the stars and then drive back in time for work on Monday morning. It was the perfect plan for a perfect weekend.
Then his truck broke down.
Love As Blue And Rainbow Feathers | @aaronthe8thdemon
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 37,388
Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Season/Series 13, Major Character Injury, Wingfic, Castiel Possessing Dean Winchester, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Light Angst, Fluff, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Past Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Canon-Typical Violence
Summary: Narrowly escaping death in an alternate reality? Grievous injuries with only the most outrageous solutions available? Pranks as a form of flirting? Unresolved sexual tension driving everyone else nuts? Teaching a toddler how to fight an archangel and actually stand a chance of winning? Juggling a bunker of refugees and the problems in Heaven and the threat of the devil himself?
Only on any day ending in Y for the Winchesters.
The barista and the bookshop | @abi-cosmos
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 55,794
Main Tags/Warnings: Coffeeshop AU, Mutual pining, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Angst with a happy ending
Summary: In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, Dean Winchester has been running Squirrel and Moose Coffeehouse since his Dad died. Next door, anchored by family obligation, librarian Castiel has been tasked with taking over Chuck’s Bookshop.
Wanting a distraction after his brother leaves town, Dean offers to help Castiel fix it up. It’s a job, something to get his hands on, it doesn’t matter that the librarian is hot and kinda weird.
Castiel doesn’t understand why Dean is helping him, but he’s happy that he is, and their friendship grows until he can’t deny what’s right in front of him. But when their time together is cut short, both face a decision they aren't ready for.
In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, what's it gonna be?
Peace or freedom?
The guy next door | @castielific
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 61,653
Main Tags/Warnings: AU!Neighbors, AU!NoSupernatural, Dean Smith, baby!jack, TheEnd!Cas, minor Cas/OC, Dean has a sexual identity crisis, single parent!Cas, miscommunication, self esteem issues, emotional constipation, angst with a happy ending, pining, friends with benefits
Summary: When Dean Smith quit his job at Sandover, he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He definitely didn't plan for his hippie neighbor and his four years old kid to make him question everything he thought he knew about himself.
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Can we meet here?
Dean gazed out of a clean storefront window as the morning fog slowly receded, white fluffy clouds making headway for what looked like the start of a bright day. They had been on the road for what seemed like the last seven hours. Upwards of six, at least - and Dean was still struggling to wipe the lingering traces of sleepiness from his eyelids.
He focused on the street lamps and power lines strung across his view of wide avenues. Tiny birds fluttered across his line of vision as they scoped out the next best place to perch. He shifted from his toes to his heels, let out a breath between his nostrils, and stole a few glances at Cas.
The angel stood half propped up against a counter, patiently waiting for their names to be called with his hands stuffed somewhere in the folds of his coat pockets, a slack expression softening the sharp features of his face.
Dean grappled with the wayward thoughts bouncing off the walls of his skull as they tumbled into his nervous system, pulling at him from the inside out, and making his fingertips twitch. He stepped forward, trying- attempting, to will himself out of his own head.
He’d really rather just.. forget. Everything else.
"Can we just meet here?"
The thought sounded dumb almost as soon as it left his lips. His boots clicked awkwardly against the tiled floors, tracking his movements as he shuffled. He cautiously goaded his chin up to meet Cas’ eyes.
"What?" Cas questioned, turning a stubbled jaw towards Dean in a delicately posed tilt. He looked like a Michelangelo painting in morning light and it was distracting.
A confused frown formed on the corner of the angel’s lips as they were suddenly interrupted, their orders being called enough to startle them both out of whatever look they had been sharing. Castiel reached forward and gingerly grabbed the coffee cups as they slid across the counter, briefly schooling his expression, offering a timid smile to a barista who couldn’t even pronounce the syllables of his name.
‘Cas-tee-el not Cas-teal,’ Dean felt an urge to say, but didn't, his throat ticking as his best friend turned his full attention back towards him. Cas closed the few feet between them and handed a cup over to the Winchester, eyes expectant while idle conversations buzzed and dissipated in the space around them.
There, standing in the little shop, trench coat bunching around his shoulders and tie endearingly askew, Cas almost looked like he could be just any other man. Just any name to mess up. Dean’s smile was sad as he stared down at his cup. He fit his thumb over the lip of the to-go lid and let the condensation and heat nip at his skin, soothing over whatever feeling this was.
"There’s so much that I’ve messed up, Cas. With us- with... everything. There’s so-" He cleared his throat and looked up, resolution slowly cementing. He fixed his gaze on the junction between Cas’ neck and shoulder, the only place he could currently bear to look. "Can we just... meet here?" He extended a shaking hand in explanation, "Hi, I’m Dean."
Cas’ eyes crinkled around the edges and he stared at Dean with softness and intensity that couldn’t be described. Was it... pity? He saw there? A look that said, ‘Dean, you don’t have to’ and the one returned that settled, ‘No, Cas. I want to.’ A way to try and start over, something that felt kinda like setting up a tent on a windy beach and kinda like jumping off a bridge, something important.
"I’m... Castiel." Cas extended his own hand and they met in the middle.
A handshake. A simple handshake.
Cas' palm was warm and slightly calloused along the pads of his fingers and Dean found himself wondering how he never noticed the size of Cas’ hands. How big they were, how strong his grip was compared to his own. That, or he got too busily wrapped up in shit to notice. Always a distraction, always an apocalypse on the horizon, always enough alcohol in his system to make excuses when he got too close or stumbled over his words. In another timeline, where he hadn’t sung Sammy to sleep every night their mother couldn’t, Dean would have been mute, or a stutterer, ..‘nearly was.
That’s why, in a way, he’s always preferred to let his touch do the talking, though looking at Castiel, he’s not sure if he’s ever been any good at that either.
How much hadn’t he said?
They only seemed to take the time to touch when the world was ending. They only seemed to take the time to spill their guts when everything they knew was falling apart. A bad habit that had formed somewhere over the years. ‘Guess you don’t pay much attention to those things when you’re on the brink of death and such. Or you try and will yourself not to. Such an idiot Winchester.’
But last time had been too much; it had been way too much, and not enough. Castiel couldn’t just say that and leave, he couldn’t. Dean had spent so long convincing himself Cas was doing what he thought would save Dean, what he always did. But it didn't save him, just, bits of him. The hole that formed when the empty took Cas, that hole sucked everything in. He couldn't feel, he couldn't sleep. He spent nights shouting in fevered dreams thinking he’d wake up to a hand on his left shoulder and a voice telling him that it was alright.
Even though he was truly back, Dean was still patching up that well, trying to figure out what it meant. Why it tore him apart when Cas told him-
Dean had never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn’t a blunt instrument, and he knew he needed time- time to work through all this.
"Nice to meet you, Castiel.” The words tasted slow and sweet on his lips, important. He had no idea how long he had been holding the angel’s hand when he returned his own to his side, hoping they didn’t look like freaks just starin’ at each other in a coffee shop, not that they hadn’t done this before, the staring part. “Do you wanna.. sit down?" He gestured towards the closest table and gave his easiest lopsided grin, probably looking like an overeager teenager on a first date. Well if he was gonna do this, he was gonna do this right. This was Castiel, and they had just met.
"Of course." Cas replied, a questioning look ever so briefly dusting his features as he tracked Dean’s motions to an empty table. The angel was now holding the other cup of coffee like it was his own, interlocking his thumbs (It was for Sam, truthfully.) but he seemed to forget that as he sat down and slowly sipped on it like it tasted of much other than molecules to him.
"So, Dean." Cas squared his shoulders and folded his big hands in his lap. He was as serious as ever, but there was the slightest smile that kept threatening to overtake his lips. It made Dean's chest feel like melted ice cream when kids drop their scoops on the sidewalk. "-What do you do for a living?"
"I tend a bar," Dean answered after some hesitation. He reclined back. Pretending to be someone else? Now this was a game he could play. "It ain't much, but it's honest work." He was only half joking, "It's nice little spot, real vintage vibe and bands sometimes gig there. Plus, it's my way to uh, keep up with the wayward souls." He smoothed over the wrinkles in his jeans half heartedly and shrugged, watching the way Cas’ eyelashes fluttered against his cheek when he smiled. "I own the joint actually."
Cas' smile was fond "It sounds like you put a lot of care into your work," Cas stated, taking another sip of his stolen coffee and looking at Dean with an unnamable intrigue.
"What about you?" Dean asked, leaning forward and grabbing his own drink. He lifted the cup to his mouth and felt the steam against his lips, the inviting smell of what would hopefully give his old ass the jump he needed to make it home.
Cas looked almost startled, caught off guard by the reciprocated question. His face fell, brows drooping down in consideration, like this was a game show and he'd lose points for the wrong answer. "I..." he looked around slowly, and then fixed his eyes on something outside. "I am a beekeeper." He blurted with confidence, and Dean had to move his hand to stifle a laugh.
"Oh really?" Dean said, shooting his eyebrows up and displaying an amused smile. "I figured with the threads you were some kinda accountant or something." He drawled out.
"Oh, this?" Cas looked down and played with his tie, and there was something so goddamn attractive about the way he tugged his trench coat open just to let it fall back into place. Mind out of the gutter Dean.
"This is what I wear when I deliver honey to the local shops," he explained, pointing over to the counter deftly, and man, was he pretty good at this game. "It’s purely sentimental at this point though," he said with a soft huff.
Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen Cas smile like this, not since he was human and working his first case, at least. Man he’d been so happy then, and Dean had just shut it all down. He couldn’t protect him, so he pushed him away instead.
Their eyes met, clear blue meeting speckled green, and a moment, happened. What exactly that meant, Dean couldn’t explain, but so many words were exchanged in just a few seconds. Memories, of all that they had been through together, of a tattered trench coat kept in the trunk of the impala, folded neat, for when he came back, if he came back, he had to come back.. of bloody hands gripping around it's stitches as the words "just do it" were sputtered through a broken jaw, of the dirt and grime purgatory coated it with. Of everything that stupid jacket meant, to the both of them.
"That’s nice..." was all he could think to say as he took another drink, glancing at the angel. His mind flashed to the canvas jacket he had kept in the back of his closet for almost a year. The bloody handprint caked into it's shoulder like the burden of grief was tangible, unable to touch, unable to let go. Dean wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he slept with that jacket tucked under his chin on more than a few nights.
Cas looked down at the little table, a million thoughts Dean would never know flickering through the cerulean of his eyes. He studied the texture of it's surface slowly, running his fingers over the tile, like there were secrets hidden there somewhere, encoded like a spell to stop the next big bad thing, like it was some kind’a lore that would explain why all these bad things keep happening and never seem to stop, never seem to stop long enough to say the things that linger between their every touch and fight and hunt and make-up and pat on the shoulder.
Cas shifted to grip his drink, hard enough to crinkle the flimsy brown cardboard, and downed it quickly with a far off look that bordered on painful for Dean to watch.
"I’m going to go throw this away." He announced as he got up, and all too soon the space between them deepened.
"Cas wait," Dean managed to call softly after him, but the angel was already halfway across the room.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Don’t lose it Dean, don’t you dare lose him, not in this coffee shop, not with your stupid game, not today, not again, not ever.
He stood up.
Those steps from the table to the lids and sugar station across the room were the longest steps of Dean’s life. Gravity fought against him, fear like a dead weight tugging at his ankles. It’s amazing how so many thoughts can go through your head at once it almost feels like there’s none at all. The adrenaline was greater than that of a hunt.
Well, now or never. What the fuck does that mean? ‘Now or never’? Are you a fucking hallmark card Dean? No. I didn’t think so. You’re a goddamned moron is what you are. Christ this is stupid. What are you even gonna do when you get over there? What’s your big plan? You gonna do one of your apocalypse speeches? Well guess what buddy, the world isn’t ending at the moment, yeah, big shocker, I know. Goddamnit. He’s..right there. He’s throwing his cup in the bin. Just do something, just-
He grabbed him, actually grabbed Castiel, by the collar of his stupid little coat, and shoved him into the hallway where the restrooms and the employees only door stood as the only witness to what he was about to do.
Grow a pair.
Kiss him.
Kiss Castiel.
He loves you, he loves you goddammit.
The thoughts tumbled one on top of the other until he was falling through space and time, falling headfirst towards his best friend. A man, an angel. a rebel, a hunter.
Fuck, did Cas like it? Was this the right move? He- was he even doing anything? What was? What-
Hands. That's the first coherent thought Dean registered, besides the soft press of Cas’ lips against his own. Hands coming up around his waist, finding their way to the back of his neck, tugging at his hair, aligning their mouths together, so perfectly together, cupping his jaw as Cas huffed out a soft spund. He remembers the exact moment Cas’ lips parted for him, breaking the wall like a floodgate that had stood between them for so long, teeth met tongue, breath became a scarce necessity, an occasional hobby that rich people take up like golf or water polo, and all Dean could think was that it was Cas, his Cas. Cas was softly sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, Cas was tugging Dean's thigh towards his waist, Cas was... fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-
"Ahem.."
Fuck.
Shit.
They broke apart fast and Dean turned to see a lady standing a few feet away, empty cup in hand, obviously on her way to throw it in the trash can and probably use the bathrooms they were currently blocking, before she was interrupted by the sight of two dudes kissing.
Heavily.
In a coffee shop.
At 9 am.
She covered her mouth in a mix of shock and embarrassment. ‘You don’t just cough when you see a gay couple kissing Veronica' Dean could practically hear the poor girl telling herself.
Dean almost laughed. Okay, he kinda did laugh.
Cas lightly hit his shoulder. "I apologize," he
said, swiftly turning to the girl, "that was... that was inappropriate of us." He nodded his head, seeming to decide on something. "We’ll be going now." Grabbing the arm of Dean’s jacket, he hauled him all the way out the front door.
"That was inappropriate of us?" Dean mocked incredulously as the bells of the shop jingled closed behind them. He doubled over with laughter as the still chill morning air filled his lungs, "that was inappropriate of us? Ha!" He slapped his thigh, "that one’s goin’ in the books Cas, I mean it. Ah...."
"I was trying to be polite, Dean." the angel interjected. His eyes crinkled soft around the edges, deepening his crows feet. He folded his arms around his chest with flippant impatience but looked nonetheless amused at the sight of Dean bent over himself, chuckling profusely.
Dean started cracking up again as a very confused Sam rolled down the passenger window.
Shit, they forgot all about Sammy.
"Hey! "What took you guys so long?!" He called out over a spectacularly nerdy looking book.
They slipped back into the impala, Dean wiping tears from his eyes as Sam raised his eyebrows higher than the heavens, not so patiently awaiting an explanation. His gaze darted back and forth between the two of them.
"Nothing..." Dean exhaled lightly, shrugging his shoulders, still flushed from being kissed breathless, (possibly the best kiss of his life) and having a full on, middle school quality laughing fit.
"Nothing huh?" Sam questioned with a smirk as he watched Dean start up the engine.
"Let’s just say that-" Cas deepened his voice and leaned up from the backseat, "...that was inappropriate of us."
Dean reached back and shoved the angel’s shoulder, grinning and chuckling to himself as he put the car in reverse, letting his knuckles linger against the angel’s jaw for more than a moment. The three of them laughed, even though Sam was clueless. He was just happy to see them together.
It was perfect, in that moment, everything was just perfect.
"Wait, where's my coffee??"
Dean winced. His own cup long forgotten, he bit his tongue. Sammy would live.
"Guys..?"
Dean glanced at Cas.
"Guys, seriously where’s my coffee?"
#destiel#destiel fanfiction#leo writes#castiel#dean winchester#supernatural#spn#spn fanfic#supernatural fanfic#im gay#sam winchester#my fic#fluff#angst#kiss#destiel freeform#destiel kiss#destiel fanfic
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thank you so much for the tag in that post!!! i immediately forgot every fact about myself unfortunately BUT i have two follow up qs for y'all.........
MERLIN! i am also obsessed with merlin and btw if you have a merlin account you are OBLIGATED BY LAW to tell me. constitutional amendment from the obama era. i think the merlin <--> supernatural pathway is all about duty by the way. and also gay sex.
also charlotte consider this ask your one drink please 🍷 and DO TELL!
haha, that's so fair! we love follow-up qs!
lizzy:
uh-oh! by law you say?? i'm sweatin'...i also love merlin! so much! i cannot shut up about it, and i have written/continue to write for merlin under a different account...but i fear i might have to break the law on this one. and it's strictly for the reason that i have Very Normal friends not familiar with fandom that follow my writing/keep up with my other ao3 and if they find out i shake the boys from spn between my teeth like a dog, i would have some massive explaining to do. obama's gonna come break my door down 😔 i am kissing you passionately in apology! but i think folks like my merlin work pretty okay! my biggest merlin fic is around 100k hits, which blows my mind with violence each day lol
you get it!!! you get it so hard!!!!!! what drives me crazy about merlin and spn is the inevitability of it all. they are soulmates, and they are fated to be joined, but at what cost? literally what cost? they are opposed forces, hunter and hunted, but a bond of love and forgiveness and belonging that keep them tethered beyond separation. it's the continuous loss and torture and fear and not leaving! they don't want to leave! their lives would be easier if they didn't love each other, but they can't stop. and they HAVE SEX! one of the things that sticks in my brain so hard about merlin specifically is the lengths that merlin goes to protect/save uther for arthur's sake. like that level of devotion, even at the betrayal of self, is BARK INDUCING!!! i could write forever and ever amen about merlin, so if i don't stop now, this entire post will just be me yapping and yapping.
charlotte:
oh my god WELL a few moments stand out from that day. first, lizzy and I were THE ONLY ONES TO DRESS UP after lizzy explained that people dressed up at cons (this was my first con ever—baby’s first!). Also me when I lie lol there were a couple sexy castiels but I digress. (lizzy note: there was also a billie and death cosplayer that blew my fucking mind my beloved <3)
second, literally everyone at our con had already met the boys. like. a girl pulled out a BINDER with like 4 m&g photos per page and just kept flipping through it. so while we were nervous wrecks all day, everyone was mysteriously so…chill?? like we picked up food on the way there and barely ate any of it since we were making ourselves ill.
waiting in line?? girl embarrassing you wouldn’t have wanted to see us because we were HYPERVENTILATING. as soon as we cleared the doorway and saw jared, he made eye contact with us and kept glancing over the line to check when we were coming up (because of our slay niche fits) and as soon as we did, he said the episode BY NAME and told us we did a great job. (lizzy note: he was very excited and also his hand is as big is my waist i blacked out the whole thing if i didn’t have a pic i wouldn’t think it happened)
that man’s chest and arms. gigantic. bigger than my head. he was as solid as a piece of marble. we were like what the fuck. took our picture and NO JOKE we had to sit down on the floor in the hallway. we called lizzy’s mom. we bragged to the barista in the convention center, who was also very excited. we vomited and threw up because misha was next but in character and costume and let me just say
that man’s hands were FRIGID.
I’ll say it!! (looking at you lizzy who doesn’t remember it smh.) his m&g was slay ish because he was just smoldering and barely said anything (LMAO our man was tired and they were running 2 hrs behind). but! hilarious. I have both of the pictures hanging in identical frames next to each other in my first grown up apartment and it looks like the same photo at a first glance. it is the second most expensive thing on my wall (my diploma taking first 🤧).
and that…that was a glorious day. we’re trying to go again since jensen was sold out so we can complete the trifecta 🫶
-charlotte (& lizzy! hello! 2-for-1!)
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a lilac sky
TITLE: a lilac sky
AUTHOR: dothraki_shieldmaiden (@dothwrites)
ARTIST: BoeyBite (@boeybite)
LINK TO FIC || LINK TO ART
PAIRINGS: Dean Winchester/Castiel, background Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, background Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore
MAJOR ARCHIVE WARNINGS: N/A
TAGS: Barista!Castiel, Genderqueer!Castiel, Gender Questioning Dean, Crossdressing, Panties, Semi-Public Sex
SUMMARY:
‘Bisexual’ is an identity that Dean Winchester is only just becoming comfortable with when he meets Castiel Novak. Fortunately, Cas is hot, smart, and enthralling enough to make Dean forget all about panicking over dating his first man.Dating Cas, however, forces Dean to confront his own identity and fears in ways he never anticipated.
#submission#deancasswitchbang#dcsb#dcsb 2023#a lilac sky#Author: Dothraki_Shieldmaiden#Artist: BoeyBite
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Heaven's Beans
Posting 8th September 2023!
Fic by Mydestielbabies_67
Art by squirrelofcelestielintent
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Meeting Castiel Novak changed his life. Castiel was unlike anyone Dean had ever met before. He was kind, gentle, and had a deep understanding of the struggles that came with being an omega, even though the man was an alpha. Castiel was also patient, allowing Dean to open up at his own pace and never pushing him to reveal more than he was comfortable with. As they grew closer, Dean found himself sharing things with Castiel that he had never told anyone else. It was like Castiel could see through all of his defenses and truly understand him. With Castiel, Dean felt like he could finally be himself, without fear of judgment or rejection.
It was too bad Dean didn't date alphas.
Tags: Non-con drugging, background Gabe/Sam, mention of Benny/Andrea, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha Castiel, Omega Dean, Alpha Sam, Omega Gabriel, Ash, Jo Ha, Alpha Charlie, Alpha Benny, Omega Ellen, Pamela Barnes, Missouri Moseley, Jody Mills, Friends to Lovers, Drugging, Police Investigations, Dean and Castiel need to use their words, Unrequited Love (or is it?), Medical issues, Mentions of infertility, Miscommunication, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Interrupting Moose (well Sam but same difference), Blow Jobs, Shower Masturbation, Heat Sex, Mating cycles/In Heat, Mating bites, Anal fingering, Rimming, Anal Sex, Knotting, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Mentions of mpreg in the epilogue
Excerpt: Below the readmore
However, it wasn't the smell of pastries that caught his nose. Dean sniffed subtly, and the faint smell of honey-infused whiskey and something sweet lingered in the air. The smell got stronger the closer they got to the counter, and Dean realized where it was coming from.
It was the man behind the counter. Dean would place money on the man being an omega. Alphas would never be caught dead fronting a coffee shop, their macho egos wouldn't be able to deal with that.
He was tall, with dark hair poking out under the ridiculous-looking cap on top of his head and piercing blue eyes that looked like they were made just to look at Dean, who couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious under his gaze. The man smiled at Dean, revealing straight white teeth, and Dean tried to concentrate on the menu but found himself lost in the man's eyes again before noticing the five o'clock shadow that perfectly dusted his chiseled jawline, which Dean thought he wouldn't mind feeling between his thighs….
He must have been staring because Sam nudged him. "You gonna order something or just stare at the barista?"
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Customer Disservice
Series: Fluffy Faerie Tales
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)
Rating: General to Teen and Up
Tags/Warnings: Half-Fae Sam Winchester, Half-Fae Dean Winchester, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Selkie Jack Kline, Sam Winchester Is Jack Kline's Adopted Father, Karenlike Customer Behaving Badly And Getting Punished For It
Summary: Working in a faerie-owned and operated cafe definitely had some benefits, moreso than any other job Cas had previously had.
For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!
Prompt: Day 3: Entertain
Read on AO3
THE DAY WAS progressing with relative calm, although John Castiel Novak knew better than to give voice to that observation. Despite the illogical nature of it, something about commenting on a slow or quiet day always seemed to act like a dare to the Universe to immediately provide some sort of commotion. It was a phenomenon that Cas had taken note of in passing before, but that awareness was now much more clear and prescient since he and his twin had decided to come to work as baker and barista respectively at Lighthouse CommodiTeas. Cas's twin, James Constantine Novak, had assured him that it was a universal phenomenon, backed up with multiple anecdotal reports around the world, and not at all influenced by the cafe being owned and operated by a very powerful half-fae prince of the Seelie Courts.
Sam, as the half-fae went by, assured them both that, no matter how hectic things might get, so long as they always did their best, they would never be blamed for whatever "deluge of terrarium enrichment" might befall them. Indeed, working in a fae-run cafe where the cardinal rule for customers was "be polite or else" was a great deal less stressful than any other job Cas had ever had. Part of that was Sam having hired both him and Jimmy so Cas almost always had his primary touchstone of support nearby, but it also helped that Sam could and did stand up for his employees against rude or abusive customers. Sam was unfailingly polite up until someone under his protection was threatened, and he was masterful in dealing with the more rudely entitled or self-righteous customers who thought a non-human small town coffee shop barista was an acceptable target for their poor behavior.
Today had been mostly quiet, for which Cas was thankful as it allowed him to focus solely on the baking rather than needing to take a turn mixing drinks or talking to people. He would do it if the Universe conspired to swamp the cafe in customers because he didn't want to leave it all on Sam, Jimmy, and/or Charlie if one or more of them were absent and the need arose, but all three of them had assured him that he didn't need to. That allowed him to give his attention to the equally exacting but less emotionally demanding task of replenishing the dwindling stock of various cookies and scones from the refrigerated dough from this morning and taking inventory of the ingredients which were getting low enough to warrant reordering.
It also meant that, once he got the last tray out of the oven and onto the racks to cool, he was able to take a break of his own with a mug of blueberry tea and honey tucked up into his preferred chair in the corner near the kitchen and watch Sam and Jimmy in their element. Frequently he used the time to test his own study of nuance and human interaction and body language by predicting which customers would be easygoing and which would be trouble. He was getting better at it, though he seemed to have made a mistake guessing the woman with the designer jacket and expensive shoes who ordered a decaf cafe latte with soy milk and cinnamon would cause an issue. She was, in fact, waiting quietly if not exactly patiently for her drink to be made while tapping at her phone screen. Perhaps the shadow Cas perceived around her was from some personal trouble with whomever was on the other end of her message...?
His contemplation was interrupted as a loud growling motor outside the cafe abruptly cut off and a car door slammed. Cas braced himself, hand unconsciously drifting towards the bracelet Charlie had made for him as he glanced towards the counter. Jimmy was busy making a line of drinks and Sam was... looking amused?
The door burst open with a jangle of the chimes and a deep voice called out heartily, "Hey, Sammy, it's your favorite brother!"
"Adam?" Sam asked, his voice taking on notes of affected surprise. "What are you doing on this side of the Rift during the school year? Does Dean know you're using his human glamor as a practice form?"
"Bitch," the human man in flannel, jeans, and a leather jacket huffed with a scowl. His appearance shimmered and changed, close-cropped blonde hair growing considerably longer and forming into intricate braids that did nothing to hide the newly revealed pointed ears decorated with silver piercings. "Don't even try to pretend you didn't know it was really me and not Bite-size."
"Don't go assigning yourself favorite status over him, then, jerk," Sam laughed, stepping out from behind the counter. "And when are you gonna stop calling him that? He's almost your height now!"
"Big brother's prerogative," the fae man who Cas thought must be Dean said loftily, opening his arms. The two met in a back-slapping hug, Dean squawking playfully when Sam actually lifted him up off his feet, and separated with an exchange of kisses full of familiarity and affection despite the seeming insults exchanged.
It was also apparently too much for the woman waiting for her latte.
"Excuse me," she huffed, snapping her fingers repeatedly in Sam's direction. "How dare you? You are at work, your behavior is completely unacceptable, there are children present!"
"Excuse you, lady, I'm a grown adult, I'm just fun size!" another customer snapped. Cas recognized him as one of the regulars who always came in for a Trickster Special that seemed to be nothing but sugar with a splash of coffee.
"I didn't mean you!" the woman huffed, which was thoroughly confusing until Cas followed her pointing finger to see Jack sitting at one of the tables by the window with his notebook and math textbook open on front of him. "I'm sure that boy's parents don't want you exposing their son to such degenerate behavior!"
"Since that's my son, no, I really don't have a problem with it," Sam said in a mild tone that Cas recognized from many, many similar occasions. From the way the rest of the customers were watching, he guessed that they also recognized it and knew what was coming.
"Why would I have a problem with my dad hugging Uncle Dean?" Jack asked in a bored tone, not even bothering to look up from his homework as he took his cue from Sam like a perfect co-conspirator. Then he paused and looked up with a frown. "Is this a homophobic thing? Because people usually only use the word 'degenerate' when they're being mean like that."
"Nice one, kiddo," Dean smirked. "Speaking of, you gonna hug me at some point?"
"You gonna help me finish my math homework before closing?" Jack asked with a matching smirk.
"It's still unprofessional!" the woman spluttered. "Personal relationships should be left to personal time, not while you are on the clock! What would your manager say if he saw you acting like this?!"
"Considering he's the owner, I'm pretty sure management is well aware of the situation," Jimmy piped up as he approached the counter and held out the travel cup. "And they're both much older than even this country, nevermind the current human fad of toxic masculinity so you trying to shame them for a hug and a kiss on the cheek is probably not gonna go over the way you want. Here's your decaf soy cafe latte with cinnamon, ma'am, and I don't suggest staying to drink it here."
"How dare you speak to me that wa--!"
"Silence," Sam intoned sharply, straightening up to his full height. The woman's voice abruptly cut off, though she kept moving her mouth for a few seconds before realizing that nothing was coming out. The look of astonishment on her face was almost cartoonishly comical. "Since you seem to enjoy passing judgment on people for things that are none of your business, you will now also be judged. Every unkind, judgemental word to come to your tongue about others will similarly be silenced, by voice or writing or text, for the next three years or until you learn to mind your own business and keep your poisonous comments away from the business of others."
The woman tried to yell something that Cas suspected was "you can't do that" or something similar, but those words were likewise silenced.
"You are in my domain, and you have broken the rules of my realm," Sam told her, looking down his nose with the air of the haughty faerie prince he was. "I assure you that I can. Your voice will return to you once you leave, and for your own sake I suggest you take your drink and do so now, and don't bother coming back."
The woman finally seemed to grow a modicum of sense, as she snatched her latte from Jimmy and scurried out of the cafe. The moment the door closed, several of the regulars burst into applause. Jimmy took the opportunity to slip out from behind the counter and bring Cas a refill on his tea as a covert excuse to check in, and Cas found that he was less agitated than usual. Either the bracelet was helping or he was getting used to this.
"Is this really what you do for entertainment around here?" Dean asked, turning away from the closed door and the vanishing bastion of rudeness to look at Sam.
"Are you not entertained?" Sam asked, still in his princely posture while raising one eyebrow. Then he relaxed and smirked. "C'mon, go say hi to your nephew, and then I've got a surprise for you."
"Another pie-themed drink you want me to try?" Dean guessed.
"Better," Sam promised, casting a quick but fond look in Cas's direction.
And Cas, remembering that the last cookies he had taken out of the oven were the caramel pecan nests that almost could have been small pies, found himself blushing.
He hoped Sam's brother liked the surprise.
#fluffy february 2024#rk writes#supernatural fic#sastimmy#urban fantasy au#faeries don't put up with karens
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