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hoboal87 · 3 years

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The Fear

Title: The Fear

Pairing: Dean x pregnant!Reader, minor Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Summary: Dean comes home to find Y/N missing.

Word Count: 2300+

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, violence, fluff, pregnancy, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, 15 x 20 adjacent.

A/N: my entry for @princessmisery666's #daily mix challenge combined with a Nonnie request.

Edit: I forgot to thank the lovely @lovealways-j for beta-reading this for me. Thanks, Sabrina!

My song is "The Fear" by The Score

My Full Masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Dean can sense it the moment he steps into his shared room with Y/N. He looks carefully around the room, trying to find a clue as to what’s got his hunter instincts in high gear. It looks no different then when he and Sam left three days ago, and yet, every bone in his body is telling him something is off.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly as he makes his way towards her old room down the hall. She’d been in the process of turning it into a nursery for the last month and had a tendency to get lost in paint samples and baby supplies. As he closes in on the room, he can feel himself becoming more on edge and instinctively reaches for his gun. “Sweetheart? You in there?”

Dean’s heart sinks further into his stomach as he reaches the newly-converted nursery. The usually meticulously organized room was in a state of disarray as if there had been some sort of struggle. Dean calls out for Y/N again, willing her to give him some kind of sign that he was overreacting to what he was seeing.

He quickly pulls out his phone dialing Y/N’s number, he and Sam should have never gone on that hunt, Y/N was due in less than a month, but she insisted that they go.

This is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone, if it’s an emergency please contact Sam or Dean…

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, waiting for her message to end. “Hey sweetheart,” he does his best to keep his voice steady. “Me and Sammy just got back and I just got a feeling…” he takes a deep breath. “Call me back. Love you.”

Dean pockets his phone, before taking in the room again, trying to convince himself that it’s his new-father instincts and not his hunter instincts that have him so on edge. That’s when he sees it: under a discarded bag, a small pool of blood. Dean’s breathing grows heavier, and he scans the room again, looking for any kind of sign of what may have happened in the room.

“Sam!” Dean yells out, his breath quickening. “Sammy!”

Sam’s behind him, skidding to a stop before taking in the sight of the room before him. Even with only a cursory glance Dean knows that Sam’s thinking the same thing as him, something’s happened to Y/N.

Dean hurries down to the infirmary, Y/N had insisted that they have everything to monitor her in the final months and in the worst-case scenario anything needed to help her deliver. The simple fetal monitor is right where they’d left it three days prior, Dean insists on listening to the heartbeat of his unborn child on an almost daily basis, letting the rapid thump thump thump put him at ease.

Dean’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when Y/N’s picture fills the screen. He takes a minute, calming himself, she doesn’t need to know that up until this moment he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles, “y’know you had us worried for a minute.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, save for heavy, scratchy breathing.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Y/N whispers, choking back a sob. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted her. Now–”

“Baby, listen to me,” Dean finds Sam in the hall and mouths trace the call, Sam nods and bolts towards the library. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“That depends on you, Dean,” an unfamiliar voice replaces Y/N’s. “Now, be a good little soldier and do as I say. Only then will your precious wife and child have a chance to make it through this unharmed.” Dean can feel his blood boiling, this is why he could never not be a hunter. He and Sam have made too many enemies over the years, and now Y/N and their baby may be paying the price.

All the fear that he felt when Y/N first told him she was pregnant comes rushing back to the surface. Dean never thought he’d get married, let alone be a father, but with Rowena keeping the demons in check, and Jack limiting the angels' interaction on Earth, with the exception of Cas, life became some version of safe for the brothers.

That’s why Y/N insisted that they take the simple salt n’ burn just one state over. She knew that they were going a little stir crazy, Bobby, Jody and Donna, had started training the next generation of hunters so that boys could retire. Dean was hesitant to leave, Y/N was only a month away from her due date, but she shooed them out the door, claiming to need her own space from her overprotective husband and brother-in-law.

“Are you listening, Dean?” The voice tuts and Dean tries to clear his head of ‘if’s’ and ‘could’ve’s’ all it’s doing is driving him crazy.

“I’m listening,” Dean repeats through gritted teeth. The voice gives coordinates to a location a few hours away and before he realizes it he’s in the Impala, ready to do whatever it takes to save his wife and baby. Sam tells Dean what he’s already sure of: this is a trap and Y/N is being used as bait. He doesn’t care, he can’t lose her, lose their baby, not when she’s done nothing more than love him.

The sun is setting when they pull up to the abandoned farmhouse, original, Dean thinks. Dean wants to go bursting in, guns ablaze, but Sam stops him, reminding him that they don’t know who or what has got Y/N, and they have to be smart. He wants nothing more than to punch his brother for suggesting that they wait even a second longer to rescue Y/N, but he lets the words sink in and reluctantly agrees.

Silver bullets, holy water, dead man’s blood, witch-killing bullets and machete’s are divided between each brother, knowing that whatever has Y/N, one of these things will most likely kill it. When they enter the farmhouse Dean’s eyes lock on Y/N, who’s against a wall, two chains around her wrists.

Dean rushes towards her, the only thing on his mind is getting her and the baby out of this place and back home. Her breathing is shallow when he reaches her, and he gently inspects her body. Gingerly, he touches her face, allowing her Y/E/C eyes to meet his and she smiles lazily at him. Knew you’d come, she whispers, and Dean leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead. His free hand lands on the swell of her belly, where he can feel a slight kick against his palm.

“I love you,” Dean says softly so that only Y/N can hear him. “I’m gonna get you outta here, sweetheart, okay?” Y/N nods slightly as Dean focuses his attention on freeing her from her bonds.

There’s a grunt behind Dean, and when he turns around, Sam’s on the ground, and there’s a somewhat familiar woman standing behind him.

“Dean Winchester,” she exclaims as two large men appear and pull him to his feet. “Been too long.”

“Jenny,” he utters, remembering one of the first cases he worked with Sam. “You look good, a little dead, but, good.”

“Always the charmer, weren’t you Dean?” She takes a step towards Y/N. “I could smell you on her the second she walked past me. Women always trust other women, made her think I was a hunter; a tragic backstory here, a name drop there, and bingo, the dumb bitch is leading me into your home.”

Dean feels his anger rising as he tugs against the two men, his eyes flicker to Sam, who slowly starts reaching for the blade next to him.

“Up,” Jenny orders and when Y/N doesn’t comply she produces a blade, and presses it against her stomach. Dean’s heart stops at the threat to Y/N and their baby. “If you want to give your baby a chance to ever see the light of day, I suggest you cooperate.”

Y/N’s legs are wobbly as she stands, tears glistening in her eyes as Jenny slowly runs the blade against her. Dean’s gaze doesn’t leave her, watching as Jenny uncuffs her, and leads her slowly over to him.

Adrenaline pumps through Dean’s veins and he frees himself from his two captors; headbutting one and throwing a punch at the other as Y/N is pushed out of the way. Sam is up on his feet and in a swift move, swings the blade through Jenny’s neck, her body falling limp to the ground. For the briefest of moments, Dean relaxes, only for a vamp to be coming at him again.

Dean can barely keep track of anything, his eyes tunneling in on the large vamp in front of him. He can hear the grunts of Sam, and the familiar sound of another vamp going down. Y/N isn’t in his line of sight, and through the blood pounding in his ears, he hears Sam call his name.

It was just the distraction that the vamp needed and he barrels towards Dean, slamming him against a wooden post. He feels something pierce his side but he keeps fighting against the vamp. As the vamp is about to take his final shot, his head is gone, and Sam is quickly resheething his blade.

Y/N cries out, cradling her stomach and even from a distance he can see the pool blood between her legs. Go, Dean orders Sam who quickly obeys.

“I think she’s in labor,” Sam mutters. “I don’t think we can get her to a hospital in time.”

Dean rushes to Y/N’s side as best he can, telling her everything will be alright. Dean returns to Baby, grabbing the first aid kit, hastily patching up the wound, and retrieving a blanket from the trunk. The pain hits him all at once, but he pushes through it, his pain doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Y/N and the baby are safe.

Y/N’s screaming out in pain, begging for someone to make it stop as Sam does his best to calm her. Dean closes the distance in only a few steps, positioning himself behind her. He takes her hands in his, whispering praises in her ear as Sam orders her to push.

Within only a few minutes, Evelyn Marie Winchester is brought into the world, wailing loudly as Sam wraps her in his flannel and hands her over to Y/N. Dean offers Sam a silent thank you as he takes in the appearance of his daughter. Evie’s the perfect combination of him and Y/N.

The moment of bliss doesn’t last long, as Sam reminds them that they still need to get Y/N and Evie to a hospital. Dean moves from his place behind Y/N and winces at the pain now radiating through his body. Sam gives him a curious look, and Dean shrugs, trying to convince his brother that he’s fine.

Dean takes Evie out of Y/N’s arms, and cradles her against him as Sam helps Y/N to her feet. Dean takes a few steps before legs start to give and his vision starts to blur. The last thing Dean hears before everything going black is Y/N and Sam calling out his name.

Five Years Later

Dean watches as Evie runs around the backyard of their new home, chasing Miracle and laughing hysterically. Y/N was right, the Bunker was no place to raise a little girl, she deserves everything that he and Sam never had, and he is determined to give it all to her. Evie will never know what it’s like to go to bed hungry or cold, or wonder when she’ll see her parents again.

The opening of the front door tears Dean’s attention away from his daughter, Sam’s voice filling the otherwise silent house. He turns to see his brother carrying a ridiculous amount of gifts followed by a very pregnant Eileen with a shaggy haired toddler attached to her hip.

“Unca De!” Little Bobby tries to squirm out of Eileen’s hold and she carefully lets him down. The toddler bolts for Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s leg. “S’Evie’s birfday!”

“I know, buddy!” Dean laughs at his nephew, “how ‘bout you go tell her ‘happy birthday’?” Dean opens the side door and lets Bobby out.

“You are going to spoil my daughter rotten, Sam Winchester,” Y/N appears from the back of the house. Dean’s still amazed that even after years together, Y/N can take his breath away.

“Well, if I had another niece or nephew, I could spread the love.”

“I think you’ve spread enough love, Sammy,” Dean jokes as he heads into the kitchen, Sam following behind him. “I mean, you’re basically having your kids back-to-back.”

��Three years is hardly back-to-back,” Sam reaches out to grab a beer. “You’re just mad ‘cause I one-upped you.”

“Actually,” Dean peeks into the living room. “We’ll be even. Y/N’s pregnant.”

The words have hardly left Dean’s mouth before Sam’s engulfed him in a hug. Dean’s positive that Eileen and Y/N are having a similar conversation at this very same moment, but what neither Sam or Eileen know is that they have a bet on who will crack first.

“Just found out a couple of weeks ago,” Dean continues with the ruse. “She wanted to wait until after yours was born, didn’t want to take Eileen’s thunder or something.” Sam nods, seemingly understanding.

Hours later, after the last present has been opened, and the final piece of cake has been eaten, Sam and Eileen take a very sleepy Bobby home. Evie sits at the kitchen table, listening carefully and a smile growing on her face as Dean and Y/N tell her that in six months she’ll have a little brother or sister.

“Or both,” Y/N corrects with a knowing smirk.

“Both?”

Please reblog or send me an ask with your feedback!

This one-shot was requested by a nonnie, my requests are currently open, you can send me an ask or DM me if you’d like to request something.

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#pmdailymix666 #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x pregnant!reader #angst #violence #kidnapping #angst with a happy ending

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writersofdestiel · 3 years

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Recently, we did a little reboot of our Weekly Words. You will find the details on our Discord Server. Meanwhile, we rounded up all the amazing fics that were created for Weekly Words in the year and a half since the challenge was created.

Time Flies by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: time flies

It's been ten years since Cas went to fight Heaven's war. Today, he's coming back. (Rated T, 0.5k)

Ash by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: rise from the ashes

Dean's shoulders tremble as they watch the flames devour everything he and Cas have built together. (Rated T, 1.1k)

Fate by @galaxystiel, prompt: rise from the ashes

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Dean tugged Castiel towards the storefront. “Don’t you want to find out who your soulmate is? Who you’re fated to be with?” (Rated T, 1.3k)

Equals by @galaxystiel, prompt: white wings

Castiel has one shot, and if it involves punching Crowley in the face? All the better. (Rated T, 1.3k)

Naps for Dogs and Men by @envydean, prompt: white wings

The golden retriever has been coming to Castiel's house for several weeks, taking a nap and then going back on his way and Castiel finally sends a note to his owner. (Rated T, 1.5k)

Runs in the Family by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: white wings

Dean's new boyfriend, Cas, has been wary about him meeting his child, Claire. Dean gets it, they've only been seeing each other for a few weeks. What Dean doesn't know is that Cas might have more reasons for worry than just a premature attachment. (Rated G, 1.4k)

The End and the Beginning by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: shooting star

There is only one way for Cas to escape The Empty's reach. (Rated T, 1.0k)

What Do You Wish For? by @envydean, prompt: shooting star

Dean, Cas, and their senior high school friends are on their annual camping trip. The sun has set and Cas wants some space to reset himself after a lot of socialising and Dean joins him. (Rated E, 1.5k)

Fearful by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: maze

It comes for children, it feeds on their fears. Dean and Cas arrive to end its reign of terror. (Rated T, 1.4k)

All Those Summer Nights by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: tell me more

It was the best summer of Dean's life - spent on relaxing, parties and fun. And most importantly, spent with a blue-eyed boy he met one day on a beach. But the summer's over now, the school year begins, and Dean's left with the memories of his first summer love. (Rated T, 1.4k)

Tell Me More by @thunderthighsmish, prompt: tell me more

“Good night, Dean. I’ll see you in 2 days. Be a good boy for me?” “I will,” Dean promised. “I love you.” (Rated E, 0.8k)

For Better Or Worse by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: through the fire

When they first meet, Cas saves Dean from school bullies. Over the years, their friendship only grows stronger. (Rated T, 1.4k)

Missing Piece by @fangirlingtodeath513, prompt: missing piece

Castiel and his garrison are given the assignment to rescue the Righteous Man from Hell. (Rated T, 0.8k)

Look What The Cas Dragged In by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: flowing teardrops

There’s a guest in the bunker. Dean’s nose is not a fan. (Rated G, 1.0k)

Teardrops For You by @envydean, prompt: flowing teardrops

The accident killed her and left Dean alive and emotionally broken. He's a disgrace. His best friend is dead and he can't even cry for her. (Rated T, 1.5k)

Christmas Sweaters In June by @envydean, prompt: ugly sweater

“Love,” Cas says suddenly in his ear. It makes Dean’s heart jump and his lungs constrict. “Wha-what?” Dean stutters, head turning to Cas whose eyes are still fixated on the screen. “L-O-V-E. Love, it’s the one you’re missing from this round.” Dean looks back down at his screen and sees Cas’ finger linking the letters together. “Oh,” Dean breathes. (Rated T, 1.5k)

Will You Bee my Valentine? by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: ugly sweater

Dean's tradition on Valentine's Day was always to go out and look for someone to spend the night, but this year he decided to stay home, which was his best decision. (Rated G, 1.1k)

I've Never Wished for Anything more than You by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: i wish

Dean has lost many people before—it’s practically a normal thing in his line of work—but none of them hurt as much as Castiel’s death. Especially because Dean is sure there’s no possible way for the angel to come back again. Or so he thought. (Rated G, 3.0k)

A Drive Under the Moonlight by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: moonlight

Dean has had a lot of fights with Sam—growing up so close together can do that—but sometimes he just can’t stand being near his brother, so he just takes Baby for a drive until his head gets clear. (Rated G, 2.5k)

Cas Loves Emoticons, Burgers, and Dean by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: emoji

Cas has always known that his husband can be a real pain most of the times, but he brings burgers so Cas always forgives him. (Rated G, 1.1k)

Dean + Alcohol = Loose Lips by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: too many beers

Dean has done some pretty stupid things while being drunk—there are some he would even rather not think about. But when he wakes up that morning, he’s pretty sure that what he did last night will be on his Top 3: after almost a decade of hiding his feelings from Cas, he just practically wrote them on a brick and threw it on his best friend’s face—or maybe that would’ve been a little more subtle than what he did. (Rated T, 4.3k)

Intoxicated by @envydean, prompt: too many beers

Cas finds Dean drunk in the fourth bar he searches after Dean sends some worrying texts to him. Dean has surpassed his flirty, chatty self and fallen headfirst into feeling utter desolation. It leaves Castiel to pick up the pieces. (Rated T, 1.4k)

The Case of the Missing Paper by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: origami

Dean has always been sure the bunker is haunted, even when everything pointed to the fact that it’s not. But when all of the paper in the bunker starts to go missing, Dean starts to think that maybe he’s right or there’s someone messing with him. (Rated G, 3.6k)

A Lost Teddy Bear and a New Found Love by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: stuffed animal

Dean has always been very responsible, especially when he needs to take care of his niece, Mary. But when they can't find her stuffed animal (a Stitch that's a few years younger than Sam), Dean starts to panic, not knowing what to do. Good thing the hot neighbor comes to save the day. (Rated G, 4.7k)

Meeting Emma by @deansrightfulangerissue, prompt: stuffed animal

Dean’s pacing the hospital corridor like some nervous expecting father. After all, that’s who he is right now. And the daughter he didn’t know he had will be here any moment. (Rated G, 1.9k)

Ambiguitatis Error Est by @fangirlingtodeath513, prompt: i miss how you were here

Dean's pulling away from his close-knit friend group and Castiel is determined to find out why. If he finds some other things out along the way, he won't complain. (Rated G, 1.6k)

Up On The Rooftop Greenhouse by @envydean, prompt: fighting destiny

Michael Shurley is Dean Winchester's true mate. Except, Dean has been in love and dating the Winchester house gardener, Castiel Novak, for nearly three years and Dean doesn't want that to stop. He needs to find a way out of the impending wedding before it's too late, especially when Michael shows his true colours. (Rated T, 5.0k)

With Eyes Wide Open by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: insomnia

Insomnia wasn’t one of Castiel’s favourite parts about humanity, but he loved what he could do in that free time—which, most of the time, involved Dean. (Rated G, 0.9k)

Cheer-Up Food by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: baking

Cas and Sam decide to make a pie for a grumpy Dean. (Rated G, 1.4k)

If Castiel Was A Cake by @envydean, prompt: baking

Castiel comes home to a stressed Dean baking a lot of cakes. So, he decides that a gathering of friends is the best way to keep Dean's mind off everything and it comes with a bonus extra Castiel has been waiting on for years. (Rated T, 2.0k)

As Many Kisses As You Want by @gii-heylittleangel, prompt: kiss me

Dean gets really hurt in a hunt and Castiel has no idea what he's supposed to do. He really doesn't. (Rated T, 4.4k)

Kiss Me by @peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim), prompt: kiss me

Dean’s spur-of-the-moment ideas aren’t always the best, as lots of people are able to attest. And his last one really took the cake. Because now he’s unable to forget the taste of Castiel’s lips and he’s got no freaking clue how to deal with this. (Rated T, 4.2k)

The Dare On Your Lips by @envydean, prompt: kiss me

Dean Winchester has had the biggest crush on Castiel, but believes that Castiel isn't interested. Then on one drunken night, Dean is dared to kiss Castiel. (Rated T, 1.5k)

Not According To Plan by @peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim), prompt: proposal gone wrong

A fire truck, a smoky kitchen and an unexpected surprise are awaiting Dean after coming back home from work. (Rated G, 1.7k)

Proposal Gone... Right? by @fangirlingtodeath513, prompt: proposal gone wrong

Dean's been planning this proposal for a long time, but on the day he's actually supposed to propose, nothing seems to go his way. Will he actually manage to propose without everything falling apart? (Rated G, 1.1k)

#fic collection #writersofdestiel #destiel fanfic #destiel #event: weekly words

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

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Not Your Average Love Story (SPN x CM)

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~3490

Warnings: Show-level violence, but that’s about it! It’s bizarrely fluffy.

A/N: My first square for @cmbingo: “meet the parents.” This is essentially a rewrite of Supernatural 12x01, “Keep Calm and Carry On,” except Spencer and Sam are adorable dorky murder boyfriends.

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-through!

When Spencer realizes he’s in love with Sam, he’s on a plane, hoping to make it to Kansas before the sun goes dark.

He looks out the window at the too-orange light, thinking, this is a weird twist for a love story. He turns that thought over in his mind and realizes: love.

Oh.

It takes him by surprise, for some reason, but only for a second. He’s starting to get used to surprises.

* * *

Spencer has always been self-aware enough to realize that his intellect and his lack of social skills would not make it easy to strike up a traditional relationship. Then, of course, you factor in his obsessive tendencies, his attachment issues, and the stresses of his job, and it’s not actually surprising that he made it past the age of thirty before he fell in love for the first time. Considering how that ended, it’s definitely a surprise — if not a minor miracle — that he’s made it this far with Sam.

Then again, nothing about their relationship has been predictable. Spencer never guessed he’d meet his future partner while dissecting a dessicated brain.

Ever since Spencer Reid met Sam Winchester, his life has been one surprise after another.

* * *

The third unanswered call makes him nervous, but he figures Sam must be asleep, or at least he should be asleep. If Spencer finds himself doing ninety mph in his tiny rental car, it’s mostly because Kansas highways don’t seem to follow the usual laws of physics. They’re flat and endless and eerie in the grey pre-dawn light.

The moment he opens the door, Spencer knows something is wrong. He spares a wishful thought for his Kevlar, and then he draws his gun, falling automatically into the too-familiar stance as he silently descends the stairs.

There’s blood on the floor.

This doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

* * *

Spencer tends to spend a lot of time visualizing hypothetical problems and their solutions. He’s good at imagining all the potential outcomes of a particular scenario and calculating their likelihoods based on given variables. He frequently does this at night, instead of sleeping.

In other words, he worries a lot.

If he were in a normal relationship he would probably worry about normal things. For example: whether Spencer was misreading the situation, whether it was okay to run a thorough background check on them, and what to wear on a date. What would their first argument be about? What would their parents think of him? What would his mom think of them?

About thirty-six hours after they met, Sam saved Spencer’s mom from a wraith; first impressions don’t get much better than that.

The normal worries were rapidly eclipsed by Sam-specific worries. For example: what if he got cursed, what if he got possessed, and were there angels or demons after him this week. Why couldn’t Dean either drive a little slower or get a car with less antiquated safety features? How would Spencer help if Sam got hurt on the job? Should he tell the B.A.U. what he’s been learning about the supernatural?

He does end up telling them everything; Sam and Dean show up at a crime scene, Hotch almost arrests them, and it turns out that one of the serial killers they’ve been hunting for a decade is actually a skinwalker.

But the point is that when Spencer sees blood on the floor, he isn’t surprised. He’s visualized this scenario — and several hundred variations on it — before.

* * *

He hears a raised voice in the library and takes the steps two at a time. There are two complete strangers there, a blonde woman aiming a gun at a man, and Spencer’s training kicks in before he can figure out why she looks familiar.

“Federal agent, hands in the air,” he barks.

He can see the split-second when the woman thinks about turning her gun on him, but she seems to think better of it, and she sets the gun down slowly before putting her hands in the air.

“Who are you?” the man demands. “What did you do with Sam?”

“What — Sam?” Spencer asks, panic rising in his throat. “Spencer Reid, FBI. Who —”

“You’re Spencer?” he asks, brow furrowed.

Spencer realizes: “You’re Castiel.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, gun down,” Dean interrupts. “It’s okay! She’s okay, Spence!”

“Dean? You’re alive?” Castiel grabs him before he can say anything else.

Spencer lowers his gun slowly. He’s starting to hyperventilate. He wants to know how Dean is still alive, yes, but he’s watching the way they embrace, the smile on Cas’s face and the way Dean’s shoulders seem to drop like he’s relaxing for the first time in a long time, and all he can think about is —

“Can somebody tell me where the hell Sam is?” Spencer asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

“He’s not here,” Castiel says.

The woman looks between Cas and Spencer, eyes wide, and it’s not clear who she’s talking to when she asks, “Who are you?”

“He’s my —” Dean starts.

Cas cuts him off by saying, “He’s Sam’s —” at the same time Spencer blurts out, “He’s an angel.”

“Come again?” the woman asks, and when she sees the way Dean shifts nervously, she adds, “Not that, I don’t care about — you said angel?”

“Angel. You know. Wings, harp.”

“Not actually,” Spencer tells her, just as Cas scowls and says, “No, I don’t have a harp.”

“Cas, Spencer,” Dean says, and he pauses, swallowing hard. “This is Mary. Mary Winchester.”

Spencer and Cas speak in unison again, Cas in a gruff monotone as Spencer’s voice goes squeaky: “Your mother?”

Of all the things Spencer has worried about, he never thought he would never have to worry about making a bad first impression on Sam’s parents. Sam’s parents are dead.

Except… apparently not. Apparently Sam’s mom has been resurrected, and Spencer just pulled a gun on her.

“Nice to meet you,” Mary says softly, with a tentative smile.

For a second he freezes, staring at her, and his mind starts racing, recalculating, replanning, getting his worrying done after the fact, and Spencer has no idea what to say. He never made a plan for this.

“Nice to meet you,” he responds, flushing. “Um. Sorry about that.”

“I’d have done the same thing if I were you.” She smiles, and she doesn’t look much like Sam, but the kindness in her eyes is so very familiar. Spencer’s breath catches.

“She’s not kidding, shoulda seen the way she pinned me when I tried to introduce myself,” Dean grumbles. Then he turns to Castiel and says, “Tell me what happened to Sam.”

As Castiel starts to explain the details, Spencer calls Penelope.

“FBI, office of the brilliant but under-caffeinated,” she says, slightly less chirpy than he’s used to, and Spencer realizes how early it is. Oops.

“It’s me.”

“Oh! Boy genius! They did it, huh? Hotch called us back in, like, as soon as the sun came back on, because apparently criminals don’t stop just because the world is ending, or whatever, but he wanted to give you a day at least — hey, are you okay? How’s that handsome lumberjack of yours?”

“Sam’s missing,” Spencer says without preamble. “I need your help.”

It takes Penelope approximately a minute to find the car and identify the driver, but the identity of his passenger is a little more elusive. She types away, keys clattering ceaselessly in the background, as Spencer yawns.

“Got it! Okay, I have a cell number. If you call her, I can track it. You ready?”

“Dean, give me your phone?” Spencer asks, holding out a hand. “You stay on the line with Penelope. She can tell you as soon as she gets the address.”

“I can make the call,” Dean says. “I want to have a word with this bitch.”

“Dean,” Spencer snaps. “First of all, I’m the only person here who’s trained in hostage negotiation. Finding people is literally in my job description.”

“This isn’t a fuckin’ bank holdup, this is my brother,” Dean retorts. “It’s my job to take care of him.”

“If you call her a bitch and start in on your threatening macho bullshit, she’s going to hang up, or worse, she’s going to believe you, and then she’ll be trying to get you before you can get to Sam. I know how to talk to people like this. If I can convince her I’m scared, that I’m not a real threat, she might give something away.”

“But —”

“Secondly, the only people who know you’re alive are in this room right now, which means you’re our best chance to take her by surprise when we get there, so shut up and let me do my job.”

“You really think you can find him,” Dean says, and it’s not a question. He holds out his phone with a look of begrudging respect.

“Yes.”

Spencer thinks, I have to.

* * *

People aren’t all the same, but if you could quantify the concept of normal, if you could look at it statistically, most people would fall within the standard deviation. Most of their lives take an even, predictable shape, Spencer thinks. There are plenty of other people like them, and they seem to fit with each other, too, interlocking in an easy way that Spencer has always envied.

Spencer’s got all these awkward uneven edges and strange angles. He’s not normal, and he’s always known that.

For a long time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find someone who’ll fit easily, not without changing him, trying to reshape him in some way. He doesn’t want to change, but he gets lonely. Most people (friends, let alone lovers) don’t last long before they get sick of his quirks. Some try longer than others, but one way or another, there’s always some jarring part of him that doesn’t match what they want.

What if they like to sleep with the windows open, even in the winter? Or if they sleep with the air conditioning cranked up in the summer? Spencer knows he should be better about compromising on little things like that, but he really prefers things a certain way. He knows it’s neurotic. He can’t help it.

Spencer is used to people staring blankly when he starts talking, but at what point will it drive someone away? When will they stop pretending to care about his Doctor Who opinions? When will they get bored of his info-dumping?

And then there are the really difficult questions. How does he tell someone he used to be an addict? What if he doesn’t want to tell them about being kidnapped and tortured? What if he does, and then they start asking questions? How does he explain his PTSD, or his nightmares, or his bedtime routine of triple-checking every lock and setting his gun within arm’s reach?

At first, when he met Sam, Spencer worried about arguments and parents and all the other normal things, but more importantly, he worried about himself. He wondered which of his irregularities would finally make Sam give up on his attempts to fit Spencer into his life.

Neither of them sleep much, but when they do end up sharing a bed, Sam has his own routine; while Spencer checks the locks, Sam draws warding symbols, lines each window and door with salt, and sets his gun within reach. He likes the windows closed and the thermostat above 68, because, he explains simply, “Lucifer runs cold.”

Speaking of Lucifer. Sam understands addiction, kidnapping, torture, PTSD, and nightmares, and he doesn’t ask Spencer to tell his stories before he’s ready. Sam has stories of his own.

Sam also has his own Doctor Who opinions, and those opinions were the cause of their very first argument. Sam is wrong, but Spencer loves that he cares enough to argue.

The first time Spencer started rambling about serial killers, he noticed Sam frowning and cut himself off, embarrassed, ready to apologize. Sam just pulled out a journal and asked him to repeat what he’d said, so that Sam could do more research on the subject later.

Sam doesn’t expect him to change. He doesn’t try to re-shape Spencer. His life is just as weird, and by all logic they shouldn’t fit, but they do. And Spencer doesn’t feel any less himself, but suddenly he realizes that he must’ve changed along the way, because he can’t imagine his life without Sam any more; if they can’t find him, his absence is going to tear Spencer apart.

* * *

It’s a tense car ride, to say the least.

Hell of a first impression, Spencer thinks again, glancing at Mary’s pale, worried face in the rearview.

Castiel and Mary are in the backseat, and they’re trying to make small talk, but Castiel seems to be about as good as Spencer at the whole “casual conversation” thing. Sam’s told him so much about Castiel, Spencer feels like he knows him, but they’ve never actually crossed paths before.

And then there’s Dean, who’s got his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Spencer gives him directions, and he grunts or nods, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Dean intimidates the hell out of him, but they’ve always gotten along fine, maybe because Spencer’s never yelled at him before. He’s very aware that arguing with Dean Winchester is usually fruitless at best (and deadly at worst), but he’s never been good at holding his tongue when he’s upset.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer manages to mutter eventually.

“Huh?” Dean looks at him, frowning.

“About earlier. I didn’t mean to — um.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean says gruffly.

“I was upset. I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs, and he hesitates before adding, “You were right.” He looks as surprised to be saying it as Spencer is to hear it.

Spencer blinks at him a couple times before hurriedly saying, “Turn left. There.”

Cas and Mary are having a quiet conversation about the weirdness of technology, and Spencer is about to join them when Dean speaks up again.

“Garcia — she said something funny.”

“Uh oh.”

Dean snorts. “Nah, not like that. Before she hung up, she told me not to worry. Said of everybody she knows, Sam probably has the second-best odds of escaping any poor sap who tries to abduct him.”

“Second best?”

“That’s what I said. But apparently that title belongs to you.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. All I can do is talk myself out, he’s stronger.” Spencer gives him a crooked attempt at a smile; it feels awkward on his face, but he means it when he says, “He’ll be okay.”

* * *

The funny thing is, Spencer has been in this situation before.

When it was Maeve, though, he panicked, because all he could think about was how she must feel: scared, helpless. Spencer has too much empathy sometimes. Imagining Maeve’s helplessness made him feel like he was drowning.

This is different. He’s not exactly zen about the whole situation, of course; it feels like a piece of him is missing, but he’s clear-headed, because he knows that Sam is anything but helpless. He trusts Sam to take care of himself.

Aside from the supernatural element, Sam’s job is astoundingly similar to Spencer’s, and he’s astoundingly good at it. The Winchesters have consulted on a couple cases, now, for the B.A.U. (Spencer’s still not sure how Hotch manages the paperwork) and they try to find cases in the same general area as wherever Spencer winds up, so they’ve gotten to work together a few times. Sam’s sheer competence at his job might be the most attractive thing Spencer has ever seen.

Spencer used to imagine a quiet, mundane romance. He always just assumed he’d find someone whose life was more normal than his, and he was resigned to the stress it would cause in a relationship. He’d forget to call, he’d miss dinner, he’d have to cancel plans and be absent from so much of what constituted a normal domestic life, and his partner would be left at home, alone, all too aware of how much danger Spencer could be in, helpless to do anything about it.

Instead, Spencer found Sam. Spencer never has to feel guilty about missing dinner, because Sam isn’t at home worrying about him. Sam is out there saving the world.

Sam is not going to wait for Spencer to rescue him; he might not even need rescuing, at this point. Instead of worrying about what Sam is doing and whether he’s scared, Spencer can focus on his own plan.

* * *

He and Dean circle slowly around the house. They spot the entrance to the basement, and Dean almost runs right to it, but Spencer grabs his arm and points to the sigils around the door.

Spencer notices movement through a window next to the back door, and when they creep up to get a glimpse inside, he sees two women. One is the blonde — the brains of the operation — and the other is stockier, clearly the muscle.

After a quick conversation in whispers and gestures, Dean sneaks around to the side of the house opposite the basement, and a second later Spencer hears him shout. He waits a couple seconds and glances in the window again, and sure enough, the bigger woman is gone while the blonde is watching something on a computer monitor, looking agitated. Security cameras, maybe.

Spencer is about to go inside when he sees the blonde start, look around, and grab a cattle prod. Then she’s hurrying toward a door, sliding back a heavy deadbolt, and Spencer sees a dark stairwell that must lead to the basement.

He slips through the door and follows her.

For a split-second, the scene in the basement almost stops his heart. Sam is lying on the floor, completely still, his head surrounded by a puddle of blood.

But before Spencer can really process what he’s seeing, let alone react, Sam is in motion: lashing out, grabbing her by the throat, shoving her against the wall. Spencer descends the stairs quietly with his gun at the ready, trying not to make any noise that might distract Sam right now.

Sam doesn’t need his help. There’s blood on his damp clothes and his arms are shaking as the blonde goes limp in his grip, but he’s alive; he doesn’t need Spencer’s help, and Spencer isn’t the slightest bit surprised.

When Sam turns and sees him, he doesn’t look surprised either. He just smiles, all dimples and sparkling eyes in spite of his obvious pain as he limps over.

“Sorry that took me so long,” Spencer says casually, trying to control his grin. He doesn’t want to holster his gun yet, so he keeps it trained on the woman and hugs Sam one-armed.

Sam wraps his arms around Spencer, holding on tight. Spencer rests his forehead on Sam’s shoulder, taking a second to breathe as he feels missing pieces sliding neatly into place.

“Love you,” Sam says, and the words sound like a sigh of relief. He pulls back, and he looks surprised, like he didn’t actually mean to say that out loud.

Spencer’s about to reply when he sees the woman struggling to her feet, reaching for her cattle prod, and so instead he says, “Look out.”

Sam steps sideways to give him a clear shot. Spencer shoots her in the thigh and she screams as she falls to the floor.

“See how you like it,” Sam tells her, with a vicious little smile.

“I love you too,” Spencer blurts out.

For a second they both pause, grinning at each other like idiots, their surroundings forgotten.

Then there’s a sound from overhead, and Sam asks hurriedly, “The other one. Did you take her out already?”

“Dean’s got her,” Spencer tells him. “We should check on him, then we can come back down and deal with — Sam?”

At first he can’t figure out why Sam’s mouth drops open like that, shocked and disbelieving. Then he remembers.

“Dean’s alive?” Sam asks, a smile spreading slowly over his face. Spencer nods, wrapping an arm around Sam’s ribs, supporting him as he limps gingerly toward the stairs. It feels like he’s forgetting something.

There’s another noise, and then Mary is in the doorway, looking down at them.

Oh.

Sam turns to Spencer silently, like he’s waiting for confirmation that she’s real.

Spencer nods. “Yeah. So — um. Surprise?”

Sam doesn’t actually seem all that surprised, because… of course he doesn’t. He blinks at Spencer a couple times and then he grins.

“You met my mom before I did,” Sam says, breathless and amused, and grabs the banister to haul himself up the stairs. Spencer laughs and follows him, smiling to himself.

It’s not your average “meet the parents” scene, but somehow, it fits Sam and Spencer perfectly.

Nothing about their love story has been normal. Why start now?

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #supernatural #sam winchester x spencer reid #spencer reid fic #sam winchester fic

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chaoticdean · 4 years

Note

Can I pls pls pls get a sweet fic with Cas contemplating just how exquisitely his husband (i am a sucker for loving married destiel fics) has aged into this *swoons* beautiful beautiful devastatingly handsome man (his beard and the length of his hair *swoons again*) plsss

Sorry it took me an actual eternity, but here ya go! ❤️

[READ ON AO3]

The sun shining light through the curtain slots slowly pulls Dean from a very comfortable sleep, with a side of light grumbling (who the fuck decided it was a good idea to put blinds instead of blackout curtains in that goddamn room?!). The hunter reaches for the other half of the bed, only meeting emptiness and cold sheets, which makes the grumbles turn into groans. He hops on his feet then, making his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, knowing very well he’ll find him here.

“Hi,” he says lightly, his voice still rough with sleep, dropping a soft kiss right there in the hollow of his neck, where it’s warm and inviting and smells just like Cas, “Watcha doing? I woke up and you weren’t in bed with me.”

And I hated it, you know I hate waking up without you all tangled up around me like a goddamn koala, it makes me scared that maybe all of this is a dream and I’m finally waking up to an empty bed in a ghost house.

Both his arms have found their way around the former angel’s waist and are now tucked under his shirt — well, really, Dean’s shirt, but the hunter stopped keeping track of what’s his and what’s his husbands, well over a decade ago already — resting against his bare skin, and Dean tightens against Castiel’s back, even letting his eyes fall shut again as he instantly relaxes against him.

“Hey,” Cas respond with a smile, raising his head and turning just enough to get a look at his sleepy, grumpy husband, “wanted to make breakfast before we head out. There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the counter, if you want.”

“You’re a fucking saint.”

“Well, technically…”

“Babe, I know, shut it,” Dean groans as he smiles, dropping another kiss behind Cas’ ear before he lets go of his warmth and makes his way to said fresh pot of coffee, “Thank you.”

He pours himself a cup — in that stupid one that Jack gifted him last Christmas, the one that says “My son went to Canada and all I got was this stupid coffee mug” and that Dean loves so much — and watches as Castiel finishes making scrambled eggs, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and that old faded black rock band shirt that suited Dean just fine but somehow fits tighter on Castiel’s broad shoulders and muscular body (which is truly infuriating and slightly hot, by the way).

Ten years might have passed since they defeated Chuck, and sure they might have gotten older, hair might have turned grayer, but Cas is looking just as fine as he did 10 years ago (which means he looks like a goddamn model).

Not that Dean has any complaint whatsoever, but he’s self-conscious about himself enough to know he doesn’t look as good as he used to, flat tummy turned into small pudge and love handles be damned.

“How old are you again?” Dean asks over his cup, sipping his coffee as he watches his husband turn around and put the scrambled eggs in one single plate.

“Mhm, 3.92 billion years, give or take one or two millennia,” Cas answers absent-mindedly as he proceeds to wash the pan right away, “but you know that already.”

“Ya, I do,” Dean grins as Castiel dries his hand, looking at Dean curiously.

The former angel grabs the plate and sets it in front of Dean, “eat.”

“C’mere,” Dean motions for Cas to come and sit on his lap, and suddenly his husband his right against him, Ocean blues meet Forrest green, “God, you look beautiful.”

Castiel’s hand finds its way to Dean’s face, cupping his cheek as he smiles wide, and Dean’s find their way under Cas’ shirt again, resting on his back. The silver wedding ring on the former angel’s finger attracts the sun’s light as he lowers his face to kiss his husband.

Dean had thought, back then, that at some point the feeling going with kissing his angel would fade, that it would turn into something normal, some kind of routine, but it never did.

It still tastes like the sun on his face, like he’s riding some stupid rainbow and discovering a whole new galaxy altogether.

“Happy Anniversary, babe,” Cas murmurs against his lips once they part, and Dean kisses him again right here and there, just because he can.

“I love you.”

“I know,” the former angel smiles, “I love you, too.”

It’s not like it’s as taboo as it used to be for Dean. It took him a long time to be able to say it without feeling like he might explode, and he still remembers the first time it passed his lips to land on Castiel’s ecstatic face. But there’s still this thrill going down his spine every time his husband does, this deep feeling of possessiveness, of feeling like he finally belongs. With him.

Castiel glides a finger over Dean’s scruff along his jaw, watching him closely with half a smile on his lips, “you look just like you did back then.”

“Which is?”

“Magnificent.”

His lips are on Dean’s jaw now, making their way to his temple, and Dean delights in the little shiver that goes through his body as Castiel’s lips move on his skin.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

“Beautiful. Superb. Marvelous. Do I get to keep going?” Castiel says, his voice muffled as he goes down Dean’s neck, a silent moan rising from the hunter's throat.

“Mhm, as much as I’d like to believe you, I know you’re lying.”

“I don’t lie.”

Dean rolls his eyes then, because of fucking course Castiel fucking Winchester who “doesn’t get words wrong”, doesn’t lie, except when he wants his husband to feel good.

“All the extra weight on my body and grey hair on my head and face would like to kindly disagree,” he answers with a self-deprecating smile.

“Dean,” Castiel grabs him by the chin, locking-eyes with him, “If you don’t stop bringing yourself down I’m seriously going to get mad.”

“I like it when you get mad,” Dean answers, turning his smile into a mischievous one.

Castiel fits his lips against Dean’s once more and they share a truly filthy kiss, just because they can do that now in the middle of their kitchen, in the house they’ve bought for themselves all those years ago. When they part, Dean still has that dazed look on his face as he watches his husband rise from his lap and feels him press against his back Hal a second later, lips back on his neck.

“You look beautiful to me. I don’t care if your hair turns grey, or if you gain weight, or if you need your 8 hours instead of 4, or if you fall asleep in front of Jeopardy every night. I don’t give a shit, Dean.”

Dean smiles then, Castiel’s lips kissing inside his neck, because goddamit Castiel swearing has a way of going straight to Dean’s dick.

“You’re my husband, and you look beautiful, and I love you,” he drops a soft kiss on his cheek then, both his hand roaming on Dean’s chest, and Dean can’t resist but holding on to those strong arms that still make his night feel safe after so long already, “but if you don’t think you look good, maybe we should head for our bed right now and I’ll show you how beautiful you look to me.”

“That certainly sounds exciting.”

“It does, right?”

“Not sure Sam and Eileen will be on board if we arrive 3 hours late to Charlotte’s christening though,” Dean smiles, already feeling the arousal rise.

“Bold of you to assume it’s going to take me this long to toss you into oblivion, but I also don’t give a shit.”

“Language.”

“Fuck you,” Cas giggles as Dean rises up.

They make it 20 minutes late, and neither Sam nor Eileen has the heart to call them out on it, because both of them are beaming like actual rays of sunshine, and little Charlie can’t get enough of her uncles “Ca’n’Dee”.

Send me a quick prompt and I’ll do my best

(also, if you’ve send me one already and I haven’t done it yet, it’s on my to-do lost, I’m just being terribly and fashionably late as usual)

#look at them being married and soft #married destiel #human!cas #destiel #deancas #deancas fic #deancas ficlet #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #jus writes #a tumblr prompts collection #prompts #domestic dean winchester/castiel #soft #fluff #spn #spn writing

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mattzerella-sticks · 3 years

Text

Tribute to What Almost Was

Dean/Cas 1.6k fic

(ao3 link)

When Cas died, Dean spread his ashes in a field he believed Cas would have liked.

Here's how that went.

He doesn’t know why he lit the joint. He can’t explain why, when he caught sight of the dealer half-hidden by gas station shadows, palming a dime bag into their buyer’s hand with a jerky handshake, Dean diverted from his path back to Baby. He didn’t remember flashing his fake badge or barking at the pair to face the wall and place their hands on the wall behind them, but he must have because he stood there, watching panic briefly flitting across their faces, eyes screaming for them to flee and legs that refused to listen, before complying. Dean pushed a plastic bag stuffed with jerky and candy and energy drinks he bought up his arm, then, freeing his hands to search their pockets. He stole their weed – evidence, he gruffly explained – and set them loose with a vague warning. Dean’s latest acquisition joined his other purchases, tucked safely inside. He continued on with his mission, climbing into Baby and driving the rest of the way towards his destination. These events replayed in the smoke off his first drag, joint dangling from Dean’s limp fingers. He still doesn’t know why he lit it.

Dean glances at his watch, then above to see the sun shining in a clear, blue sky.

A few more minutes, he reasons, bringing the joint back to his lips for another drag. He shifts the jar in his lap, moving Cas so the bits of ash that fall from him toking won’t mix with the bits of ash he gathered long after Cas’s body burned atop the pyre.

Dean studies his angel, raising the glass jar to almost eye-level. If he imagines hard enough, Dean can discern features from the cinders and clumps. He tries picturing Cas in his glory, in the moments between battles, in times where Dean’s heart skipped. Visions of the other man, his eyes aglow and jaw unhinged by agony, are what appears. Their freshness overpowers his better memories.

Sighing, Dean sets Cas aside to appreciate the scenery again.

His gaze barely lingers on the windmill slowly spinning near the edge of the clearing, already too familiar with its shape. Dean pays closer attention to the surrounding plant life, instead. With the hand not currently holding his quickly dwindling joint, Dean runs his fingers down a blade of the tall, reedy grass. He loops it around his finger and then releases it. He repeats this a few more times until he discovers a new distraction. Dean reaches out, a caricature of the First Man, as he tries meeting the thin branch of a wild, overgrown bramble halfway. A soft, hollow laugh ekes out past Dean’s lips when his fingertip brushes against a leaf. Dean sucks in more smoke as his watery eyes bounce around the treetops, stopping only because he feels the joint’s nub burning him.

Dean squeezes the ends of the joint, snuffing it. He brought just the one with him.

He glances at his watch, then above to find the sun’s shuffled further along in its journey.

Dean’s waited all he can.

Slowly, Dean rises to his feet. The glass jar is heavy in his hands, like it was when he first grabbed it out of Kelly’s cabinets, except it’s Cas making the bulk of its weight and not the jam he tirelessly scooped out of it.

He stands, fingers laced together on the jar’s surface. Dean bows his head, looking past the hole and at the remnants of his best friend, and is suddenly struck with the need to speak. He tries but can’t utter a single syllable. Those words stay stuck in his throat, colliding into each other; prevented from becoming real, from being spoken now that it’s too late.

Where words fail, Dean’s actions act as a substitute. He shrugs free from his jacket, one arm at a time, refusing to let go of Cas. Dean drops his jacket to the side, overshirt joining it as he slides that off, too. He unloops his belt, buckle hitting the piled fabric with a soft thwack. Dean steps on his laces, unlooping them without using his hands and kicking his boots far into the field. His socks find their way onto the growing heap of Dean’s clothes, followed by Dean’s t-shirt, jeans and boxer briefs. Finally unburdened of his clothes, Dean breathes deeply, then sinks to his knees.

He feels vulnerable, exposed and defenseless. It’s the closest he’s come to recreating the thrill of being caught by Cas’s searching gaze. His angel’s eyes were able to peel away the walls and layers of bullshit Dean had built, defenses Dean thought impenetrable that failed innumerably when set against Cas. Cas saw through all, into Dean’s soul and, somehow, stayed. Cas chose Dean repeatedly, and he’ll never hear how much that meant to him, how much Cas meant to him.

Dean stripped to avoid voicing his thoughts, since he couldn’t. For some odd reason, he overcomes his impasse. Words begin tumbling out of his mouth, filling the silent emptiness of the field. “Y’know, Cas… I always wanted to do this with you,” he says, “never thought it’d… it’d be like this.” He hiccups with laughter, thick and wet. A tear drips down, heading for his chin but interrupted as Dean shudders for breath. It stains the corner of his mouth, forcing it from the false smile and into a more appropriate, more natural, glower.

“I’m not just talkin’ bout the being naked thing,” he whispers, “When I first passed this here patch of land, I immediately thought of you, about how you’d like it. How you might look if I brought you here. How I pictured it you’d… you get this wrinkle between your brows,” Dean taps at his forehead, his eyes screwed shut, “and your head’d tilt like it usually does when you’re confused” – he mimics Cas by skewing his head to the side – “and you’d ask me why we’re here. And I’d go on about how it might not be the beach, but it’s a little slice of heaven where we can exist outside of the raging shitstorm our lives were, without enemies, without battles. A place us soldiers can go and… not be that, y’know? Some peace… for the both of us.” Despite his eyes being closed, tears continue to fall. “Then, while you were taking all that in, I’d grab your hand real smooth like, tell you I love…” He chokes on it. Dean pushes against his fear, straining. “Telling you I love you, and how loving you makes life feel like being in this field all the time. That, in spite of our pasts, we can have peace and we can be together – we can be Dean and we can be Cas, together, because I’ve never thought I could love anyone like this until you showed me it was possible, Cas and –“

He stutters to a halt, grip on the jar slipping. Dean places it over his heart, winding his arms around it. “I’m sorry I never took you here ‘till now,” he says, “I was always too afraid. Because after telling you all that, the next thing I’d see was you pulling your hand out of mine, and your face… you’d smile, but it’d be sadder, because you’d have to explain how you don’t feel the same. Angel stuff that I’d tune out since all I’d hear is the echo of my heart shattering.” Dean cries into his shoulder, muffling his next few sentences. “I held it in. Kept it, and this, from you. And now you won’t know about either…”

Dean clears his throat, uncurling from his position. He rests on his heels, tilting his face towards the sun to let it dry his tears. The sun warms him, allows him to carry on with his goodbye. “I still want you to have this peace. You deserve it… deserve a lot more than what you got, that’s for sure. You deserved a better life, one clear from all the bullshit that I seem to attract… one where you were with someone who could love you proudly, in the open, the way you deserved.”

A strong gust of wind cuts through the field, cueing Dean to upend the jar in his hands. Ashes pour out its lip. The wind carries Cas and scatters him, leaving Dean with an empty jar in his hands.

He’s not done.

Dean roots around his jacket pocket, uncovering the mixtape he made Cas. He pocketed it, refusing to let it burn with the rest of his angel. However, holding it in his hands then, Dean knew he could never listen to it, nor any of those songs contained within, anymore. He saved the mixtape for this moment. Dean digs a small grave for his ‘Top Traxx’, placing it inside and covering his work with a sweep of his hands.

“I won’t ever forget you, Cas,” Dean releases his words to the wind, too, “I can’t. I’ll love you until I can join you, and then some.”

It’s like a weight was lifted off his chest. In doing so, however, Dean reveals a hollowness he doubts will ever be filled.

He glances at his watch, then above to steal a peek at the sun before he leaves Cas’s field.

Dean gathers his things methodically; he steps into his boxer briefs and jeans, hooks his belt closed tight, and throws on his tee and overshirt. He drapes his jacket over his arm, tucks his socks into his boots and carries them in the crook of his fingers. Dean ambles barefoot towards Baby, not in much of a rush to be elsewhere.

He’ll have to go back to the Bunker at some point, Sam probably worried since Dean is out much longer than he promised. But Sam also has other worries he can preoccupy himself for a few more hours.

Dean does, too. He can finish off the weed he stole. Then, after smoking all of it, he can decide on what to do next.

It’s not a perfect plan, but it works for him.

#supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #dean spreading cas's ashes #because everyone else is doing it lol

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petrichoravellichor · 3 years

Text

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Chapter 3 (of 5) (Ch. 1, Ch. 2., Chs. 4 & 5)

"When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental. But...there is one story about Cain that I might have...forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me...no, it wasn't truly until you left that cheese burger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true. Listen to me, Dean Winchester: what you're feeling right now—it's not death. It's life—a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

—Crowley to Dean, 09x23 "Do You Believe in Miracles?"

**********

The following evening, there’s a knock on his door. “Crowley? Hey, you in there?”

Crowley looks up from his book. He hasn’t spoken to Dean since that day in the war room, when they’d all returned from the Empty. From a tactical standpoint, it’s been very easy: all Crowley’s had to do is keep largely to his room during the day and save visits to any common spaces for the late night hours. This is the first time in a good long while Dean’s made it a point to seek him out alone, and it’s that more than anything that makes Crowley decide he actually wants to hear what Dean has to say.

Still, no point in making it easy on the bastard. “That depends,” Crowley calls back, aiming for nonchalance. “What have you brought me?”

“Ha ha. Open up, asshole,” says Dean, but the epithet contains about as much malice as the bitch he occasionally lobs at Sam. “We, uh. We need to talk.”

Crowley arches a brow; is it just him, or does Dean sound nervous? He sets his book aside and shifts to sit on the edge of his bed. “It’s open.”

Dean enters, and Crowley sees that he was right: Dean does indeed look nervous, perhaps even guilty. He nods sheepishly in Crowley’s direction as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey,” Dean says, smiling slightly, and the gesture stirs a painful kind of longing in Crowley’s gut. Looking at Dean has always felt to Crowley like reaching for something without knowing what it is he’s grasping at or why, the way a weed arches without thinking towards the sun. It’s maddening in a way Crowley doesn’t have words for, because he knows, in the way he supposes a weed does, that the light isn’t there for his benefit; experience has shown him that much.

And yet, for as much hurt and anger Crowley’s felt because of Dean, he’s also realized that he just...can’t find it in himself to hate Dean, not in any way that lasts. They’ve been through too much together, and maybe none of it mattered to Dean, but it matters to Crowley. He wishes it didn’t, but it does; it always has. And he can no more deny that than he can the sun.

But he can’t very well say all that to Dean, so he pushes his thoughts aside and schools his features into a neutral expression. “Hello, Dean,” he says evenly, rising to stand with his hands in his pockets. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean reaches up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “You, uh. You settling in okay?”

Crowley snorts. “Surely you can do better than that. Go on, let’s have it.” He takes a step towards Dean and flashes a smirk. “I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well...That’s kinda what I came to talk to you about.” He gestures at the desk next to the bed. “Mind if I have a seat?”

Crowley shrugs. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Dean walks over to the desk and turns to lean against it, not quite sitting but also not quite standing. Crowley stands next to the bed, waiting.

Eventually, Dean clears his throat. “So, uh. Cas said the two of you talked—”

He expects his words to get a rise out of Dean, to throw him off kilter so their conversation is easier to manage.

“Oh for the love of—Is that what this is about?” Crowley grumbles; just how much of their conversation had Castiel felt the need to share? “Allow me to save you some time, then. You and your long-suffering Angel of Thursday have my blessings, for what they’re worth. Slow clap, mazel tov, etcetera, etcetera. If you like, I could even pull a few strings, see if I can get you Hell as a venue for the wedding.” He smiles darkly, adding, “Although based on recent events, your influence there probably exceeds my own.”

Instead, Dean just raises a brow and says mildly, “So you and Rowena still aren’t talkin’, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, just figured I’d let you finish first.”

Still aren’t—?! “Really?” Crowley sputters angrily. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Ever the gentleman,” Crowley sneers.

“I try.”

“You really think I didn’t miss you when you were gone?”

“Well, try to get to the bloody point!”

And whatever barb Crowley was about to hurl dies on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then closes it, shifting awkwardly under Dean’s level stare. Eventually Dean sighs; he pushes up off the desk and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress next to him. Crowley sits down without a word.

“Listen,” Dean says, once Crowley is settled, “I don’t know how much Sam told you, but you weren’t the only one we lost that night. Cas died, Lucifer made off with our mom, Kelly didn’t survive the birth, and Jack bolted after I took a shot at him. Which...yeah, in hindsight, I’m not proud of, but that’s where I was at the time.” Dean looks down at his hands. “It wasn’t good. If Sam hadn’t stepped up and been a dad, things with Jack woulda turned out different, and not in a good way. If it’d been up to me, if I’d known how...I probably woulda killed the kid.”

Dean snorts softly. “Yeah, maybe, only you were too busy offing yourself to keep Lucifer locked over in Apocalypse World. Man, you don’t even know how huge that was, do you?” Dean looks up at him then, earnest. “You think everything would be the way it is now if Lucifer had gotten his hands on the kid before we’d figured things out?”

Crowley swallows. He tries to think what he would have done if his and Dean’s places had been reversed, if Dean had died that day instead of him, and comes to only one possible conclusion. “To be perfectly honest,” he says, quietly, “I’d have done the same.”

Crowley can only stare back, stunned. He’d sacrificed himself to thwart Lucifer; that his death had also made it possible for Jack to grow up in the Winchesters’ charge, free of Lucifer’s poisonous early influence, and thereby helped shape who Jack was, who God was...It’s honestly never occurred to him until now.

A protective sort of rage boils up in Crowley on Dean’s behalf. Sam hadn’t gone into all the gory details during his explanation, but Crowley knows enough. “Michael.”

“Anyway,” Dean continues, when Crowley says nothing, “then Jack brought Cas back, which we didn’t even know was possible. Thought maybe it was just a fluke, but we didn’t have time to really think about it because we had to go get our mom back, and then there was all the crap with Lucifer, so we had to deal with that, and then...” Dean trails off, his jaw tight.

Dean inhales steadily, nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that. And then...after…” He sighs. “Jack lost his soul and killed Mom, and I damn near killed him, and then everything with Chuck...Man, it was just non-stop. Then we finally beat Chuck, and with Jack all souped up, we had a way into the Empty, and hell yeah, we were gonna get Cas out, but the plan was always to look for you, too. Oh come on, don’t look at me like that,” Dean says, frowning at Crowley’s shell-shocked expression. “You’re a royal pain in the ass, and there’ve been plenty of times I wanted to stab you in the face, but you think that means I don’t give a damn what happens to you? Like it or not, man, you’re family, and we don’t leave family behind, not when we can help it.”

Crowley studies Dean carefully, looking for the lie...and not finding it. Then, that means...Is he really...?

“Family,” murmurs Crowley, experimentally. “You know, I’ve never had much luck with that word.”

Dean gives him a sad sort of smile. “Yeah, me neither. Not the one I was born to, anyway, 'cept for Sam. The one me and him made, though…” His smile turns genuine. “That one’s pretty damn awesome.”

They sit in silence, neither speaking for several moments; then—

Crowley clears his throat. “Can I ask you something, Dean?”

“Shoot.”

“That first day, after you brought me back, Sam said I should talk to Mother, said she has...regrets.”

Dean regards him thoughtfully. “You thinkin’ about giving her another chance?”

“I honestly don't know what I’m thinking,” Crowley admits. “There’s a lot of bad blood there: hers, mine, both of ours. When I saw her here, in this room, she said she’d missed me, that she loved me, and...”

Crowley feels his throat tighten, and he doesn’t know how to say the rest: that for all he hates himself for it, for all the times it’s blown up in his face, for all the horrible things Rowena has done to him—

“You don’t know if you should believe her,” Dean finishes quietly, “but you want to.”

Crowley sighs. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” Dean says firmly. “It’s not stupid to want to be loved, not by family: that’s kinda how it’s supposed to be. The stupid part is that it doesn’t always go that way, and then we gotta deal with the fallout.” Dean hesitates, then adds, “And...and sometimes that means we think we don’t deserve love when we do, and other times, it’s people sayin’ they deserve our love when they don’t.”

Crowley mulls that over. “Does she deserve it, do you think?”

“From you?” Dean shakes his head. “Man, that ain’t for me to say.”

Bollocks, thinks Crowley, barely managing to suppress a groan of frustration; if only there were a way to know which decision was the right one ahead of time...“How did you decide?" he asks after a moment. "With your father, I mean.”

Dean looks taken aback, and Crowley thinks perhaps he shouldn’t have asked; but before he can change the topic, Dean sucks in a breath and says, “Look, my father was an obsessed bastard. He left me and Sam alone for weeks on end, and when he was around, he was more of a drill sergeant than a dad. Some of the shit he pulled...” One of Dean’s hands closes into a fist. “It’s not the kind of stuff you just...forgive.”

Then Dean lets out a slow breath, and the fist relaxes. “Thing is, though, a lot of the crap he put us through, raisin’ us the way he did...He was tryin’ to protect what was left of his family, and...and I get that, you know? I’ve done a lot of really messed up shit for the same reason, for family. Doesn’t mean I forgive him, it’s just...complicated.” Dean sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Like, really freaking complicated. Honestly, I’m still kinda trying to figure it out. But, yeah...all that to say, I don’t know if Rowena deserves your love or whatever else you wanna give her. She’s done a lot for me and Sam, helped us save our mom and Jack, and then her whole swan dive into Hell and all that, but when it comes to the two of you...That’s something you gotta decide for yourself.”

Crowley studies his hands. His left palm still bears thin scars from that day in the war room, when Sam had told him Rowena had changed and Crowley had gripped his fist tightly enough to draw blood. He still isn’t sure he believes his mother is actually capable of being anything other than what he's always known her as. Maybe she isn't, and if that’s the case, then she doesn’t deserve his love. Crowley can live with that; he has his entire life. If Sam was right, though, if his mother has changed...that’s something Crowley needs to see to believe.

And there it is, Crowley realizes: he needs to see her.

“I think,” he says, after a moment, “that I’ll meet with her and hear what she has to say, and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell her to bugger off, this time for good.”

Dean gives a hum of approval. “Sounds fair to me." He claps Crowley on the knee and stands. "Okay, then, I’m gonna go hit the hay. Lemme know if me or Sam can help with the Rowena thing, okay? You don’t gotta deal with her on your own.”

“I will,” Crowley says; then, as Dean’s about to leave, “and Dean?”

Dean looks back, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

And Crowley once again feels something stirring in his gut, but this time, it isn’t longing, but gratitude, gratitude that he has Dean in his life and gratitude that, at the end of the day, everything they’ve been through together, the good and the bad, it matters to Dean, too, and that's important. It's fundamental.

“Thank you,” Crowley says, and means it. “For everything.”

For a moment, Dean regards him in silence; then he smiles. “Yeah. You too.”

He slips out of the room and leaves Crowley alone with his thoughts, which are...actually rather optimistic. For the first time in a long time, Crowley feels alive. It’s a new kind of life, one with family, one where he matters, and Crowley doesn’t know for certain what it’s going to bring, but he knows he wants to see it, experience it, eyes wide open.

#crowley #spn crowley #fergus macleod #crowley macleod #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #spn fic #spn fix-it fic #a new kind of life #my writing #i was going to wait till tomorrow to post this but i've realized that i lack self-control when it comes to multi-chapter fics #meh

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destieltropecollection · 4 years

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Destiel Trope Collection Day 18: Magical Realism

Runs in the Family | @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: General Word Count: 1497 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Kid Fic Summary: Dean's new boyfriend, Cas, has been wary about him meeting his child, Claire. Dean gets it, they've only been seeing each other for a few weeks. What Dean doesn't know is that Cas might have more reasons for worry than just a premature attachment.

The Magic of Mistletoes | @Destielshipper4Cas

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1610 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch Cas, First Kiss, Fluff, Christmas Fluff Summary: Dean has been coming to Cas’ witch shop for a while now. (Not because of the pretty owner, but to buy things he needed for a hunt, of course. That was the official version, in any case.) When Christmas time rolls around, and an enchanted mistletoe appears in the shop, will Dean get up the courage to act on the magical bond that is forming between them?

secret of the sea | @saltnhalo

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2465 Main Tags/Warnings: Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Selkie Castiel (Supernatural), Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Castiel (Supernatural), First Meetings, Injured Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: Dean is ten years old when he finds the injured seal, exhausted and adrift in the moonlit ocean.

Memory Lane | @thebloggerbloggerfun

Rating: General Word Count: 4421 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch!Castiel, Love Confessions, Cursed!Dean Summary: Dean's best friend Castiel is a genuine, bonafide witch with potions and magic spells to prove it. You'd think he'd have learned by now to be more careful around Castiel's things.

A Different Kind of Magic | @thebloggerbloggerfun

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4775 Main Tags/Warnings: Cursed!Dean, Witch!Castiel, Shop owner!Castiel, Summary: Castiel is a witch that prides himself on his healing spells and Dean is that one customer that keeps coming into his shop with a different illness that needs curing. - Castiel looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Well, Dean, you’ve been cursed.” Dean’s eyes widened at the buzzword. “Cursed? What do you mean?” Castiel looked at him sympathetically as he pulled out a small, square bottle. “You either made a witch very angry or made someone that knows a witch very angry.”

A Sacrifice Worth Keeping | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5151 Main Tags/Warnings: Pagan Gods, Pagan God Castiel, Sacrifice Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Sex God Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Tattoos, Light Bondage, Dom/sub Undertones Summary: The sun rises over the treetops and touches Dean’s face, and still, he waits. The villagers have retreated back to the village to pray, allowing the god his privacy, and it is just Dean out here now. He closes his eyes, tips his face up towards the sun and allows its rays to caress his skin, knowing full well that it could be for the last time. When he opens them again, there is a man standing in front of him.

Into the Dark | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7092 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Creatures & Monsters, AU - Modern with Magic, Witch!Castiel, Cambion!Dean, Summary: Castiel looked at Dean's hand and started towards taking it before realizing what was in front of him. ""How did you get in here?"" ""Little bit of B and E. Nothing's broken. I promise."" Dean smiled, and Castiel found himself enchanted a little. But not that much. ""This place is warded against Demons."" Castiel turned his head back towards Sam and focused on him. ""How did not just one, but two of you get in here?""

Flowers in the Snow | @MsJojo96

Rating: Mature Word Count: 8141 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch, witch!cas, barista!cas, familiar, au, alternate universe, destiel Summary: Dean did not plan his christmas to be this way. Snowed in with a total stranger and his two creepy cats. But destiny has a funny way of bringing people together, especially when one of the two people has it's hands in the bowl.

Stone Bline Love | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8823 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Modern with Magic, AU - Creatures and Monsters, Blind!Dean, Demigod!Dean, Gorgon!Cas Summary: In modern society, creatures are accepted among humans - assuming that the creature can pass as human. Enter Cas, a Gorgon who moved to the city to get away from his judgmental clan, only to find himself judged for the crimes of the ancient past. With the help of a Siren named Charlie, Cas finds home, and a handsome Demigod named Dean.

Burn Out this Love | @spnsmile

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9389 Main Tags/Warnings: NonCon, Curses, Dubcon, fluff, Romance, jealous Cas, Top!Cas, Bunker Summary: Complete blackout in the Bunker during a stormy night has TFW 2.0 setting up candles in the war room except Dean accidentally lights one of the cursed candles that extracted a part of himself that believes he loves Castiel. A shaman comes to help but not really, resulting in the angel’s short temper and taking matters in his own hands to make Dean remember. Dean did not forget his name after. #written for supernaturalpromptchallenge March prompt: candle:fire

Touch Bonded (WIP) | @Destielshipper4Cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9600 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch Castiel, Alternate Universe - Magic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Touching Summary: Whenever Dean gets hurt on a hunt, Cas (his witch friend he has a crush on) heals him with a gentle touch that Dean secretly cherishes. When it happens more and more often, the witch gives him a protection amulet that is supposed to keep Dean from getting hurt. Suddenly, Dean notices injuries appear on Cas, and the witch’s explanations for how he got them don’t make much sense. Being touch bonded to a witch can have its perks too, though, and soon Dean finds a way to turn the tables on Cas and show him how good the right kind of touch can feel.

Ensnared | @saltnhalo

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10359 Main Tags/Warnings: Shipwrecked, Creature Castiel, Sailor Dean, Siren Castiel, Fluff, Angst, Masturbation, Desert Island Summary: As the current pulls him a little closer to the island, the singing grows stronger. It’s deep and lyrical and the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard and he’s suddenly overcome by the desperate, searing need to be closer, to hear it in all its intended glory. And as he passes a single spur of rock that juts out a little further into the ocean than the others, Dean sees him.

No Man's Waters | @envydean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 21092 Main Tags/Warnings: merman!cas, merman!Dean, merfolk, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, War, Treason, Touch-Starved Summary: When Castiel is cast out of his territory for disobeying orders for war, he’s left to perish in No Man’s Waters, the treacherous depth between the Garrison Territory and the Huntsman’s Territory. Nothing survives there, and Castiel is barely holding on to life when one of the Huntsmen Merfolk comes to his aid.

Bards and Buskers | @mrshays

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 21620 Main Tags/Warnings: au - modern setting, urban fantasy, museum archivist Castiel, musician Dean Winchester, asexual character, dungeons and dragons mythology, bardic inspiration, quest Summary: Castiel Novak, the archivist for a folk-art museum, has inherited an exhibit from his colleague and best friend, Charlie Bradbury. He’s introverted and only interacts with the public via the museum’s social media, but the exhibit requires him to interview local street musicians. After reading Charlie’s notes on bards, Castiel is reminded of the man he sees at the transit station each morning. Dean Winchester has been busking around the US since his parents died in a car accident, playing the guitar his mother left behind. He visits his brother, Sam, in Palo Alto and funds his next trip playing in a transit station. He would have traveled along some time ago, but a studious man with ocean blue eyes keeps giving him a smile and his pocket money and Dean is ensnared. Will the pair form a more profound bond?

Magic in the Moonlight | @ialwayscomewhenyoucall

Rating: Mature Word Count: 26143 Main Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, happy ending, dean has anxiety, mechanic!dean, baker!charlie, bird!cas Summary: Once upon a time a boy named Dean lived with his mother, father, and little brother in a world filled with magic. When tragic circumstances left the young brothers without a mom, their father declared that no magic would touch their lives ever again. Years later Dean’s brother has learned to live with magic again, but Dean still lives on the outskirts of town, choosing to befriend the birds in his backyard rather than try to build relationships with people who use magic for nearly everything in life. But then, one ordinary February morning, two things happen that turn Dean’s world upside down: a magical accident leads to him making a most surprising new friend, and a very out-of-place bird--bright blue with messy black feathers on its head and a rather captivating gaze--shows up in his backyard. Suddenly Dean is facing magic again, in very unexpected ways. Can he fly these turbulent skies to find his happily ever after?

Gardens Of Elembor | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 31447 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe Fantasy Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester Top Dean WinchesterBottom Castiel Switching Wizard Castiel Elemental Dean Winchester Magic Explicit Sexual Content Magic Summary: Castiel is cast into the world that was his favorite book growing up. He always knew it felt real, but when he finds a talking unicorn on the busy street while on his way to work, he finds himself transported to Elembor and finds Dean of Winchester waiting for him. When Dean tells him he is a powerful wizard, he knows he's lost his mind. It's a world he's sworn to protect, and he takes it seriously. Especially when Dean tells him he's there to kill the beast.

Contracts and crosswords | @wingsandimpalas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 45657 Main Tags/Warnings: Warnings: graphic depictions of violence Mentions and flashbacks to child abuse Tags: Enemies to lovers, Angel Dean, Demon castiel, Lawyer Castiel, Bigotry & Prejudice, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - Magic realism, Hate to Love, Social Worker Dean, Drunk Sex, Misunderstandings, Angst with Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Background - Rowena/Sam Winchester/Gabriel, Background Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak Summary: After years of working as Claire’s Guardian angel, Dean's getting ready to let his Charge go. It’s time to let her make a life without him being there to protect her. He probably would have done it too, if he didn't discover that Claire went behind his back making a deal with the infamous lawyer Castiel Gladius. With his past experiences making him wary of demon deals, Dean offers to take Claire's place. Working for a demon he hates, just so his kid doesn’t have too. But will spending 66 days in the presence of the alluring Castiel lead to more than he ever bargained for?

so bitter and so sweet | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 57205 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern with Magic, Magic User Dean, Cop Castiel, Ghosts, Possession, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Curses, Past Dean/Benny, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean, Referenced Switching, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Dean has known about the family curse ever since it claimed the life of his mother: anyone who dares to love a Winchester is fated to die. When he takes a chance on love and loses his husband Benny, his belief in its power only grows stronger. Two years later, a late-night phone call from his brother Sam sends both of their lives spinning wildly out of control. Then Officer Cas Novak arrives in town, looking into the disappearance of Sam’s girlfriend Ruby, and starts asking questions Sam and Dean can’t answer. Complicating matters even further, Dean feels an immediate, overwhelming connection to the intense, blue-eyed source of their problems. Dealing with all the secrets, the lies, and a brother slowly crumbling under the weight of his guilt doesn’t leave much time for romance, but as Cas gets closer to the truth, he also gets closer to Dean. Inspired by the film Practical Magic.

Lifetime Piling Up | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 58916 Main Tags/Warnings: modern AU, tattoo artist!Dean, trauma surgeon!Cas, canon typical violence, fluff and smut Summary: Cas is having a bad day. He burned his bagel, missed his ride to work and had to run to the hospital in the pouring rain, and then witnessed his attending accidentally kill a patient during a routine surgery. Now he might be on the hook for his boss’s mistake, but was it really a mistake, or is he the next target of Dr. Nick Morningstar’s sick mind games? Dean is also having a bad day. His brother nearly set his kitchen on fire, he’s training a new apprentice in his tattoo shop, and then he gets a mysterious call that Sam needs a ride to the hospital after a freak accident in the pouring rain left him with an injured shoulder. A chance encounter at the hospital leads Dean and Cas to each other after a decade of coincidences and premonitions, and suddenly their worst day might become the foundation for all of their best. A story of choice and destiny, and the power of found family, foretold through uncanny tattoos.

The Closest Thing We Have To Magic | @ellen-of-oz

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 221231 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate universe - university, Alternate universe - magical realism, Professor Cas, Grad student Dean, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pining Summary: Dean Winchester is a graduate student at Stanford University’s School of the Occult. A naturally-talented mage but a lazy professor and student, he figures he’ll coast through his final year the way he always has: with charisma, charm, and a natural aptitude for magic. All that changes when his thesis advisor, Dr. Castiel Novak, turns out to be the strictest and most challenging educator on-campus. Unfortunately for Dean, the uptight professor is nearly his age and infuriatingly gorgeous. But Castiel is keeping a secret, a powerful talent that’s more a curse than a blessing when he’s targeted by seditious parts of magical society. Can Dean and Cas put aside their animosity—and undeniable chemistry—long enough to instill real change in the magical community? Or will sinister plots and hidden agendas keep them apart?

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #destiel #magical realism #day 18

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dragonologist-phd · 3 years

Note

Could I request something with, “What am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?” or, “You see everyone so clearly except yourself,” using one of your Pillars OCs?

thank you for the prompt! I got You see everyone so clearly except yourself from someone else, so I’ll do What am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?

For this one Rudi grabbed my inspiration, so have some Rudi & Eder BroTP!

(AO3)

When Edér first wakes up and realizes Rudi is gone, he isn’t too worried. Over the course of their travels, he’s learned that she’s got a habit of up and wandering off whenever she can’t sleep. He himself is usually the first one of their little group to rise in the morning- an old habit from years of farmwork that still hasn’t died off- and it’s no strange thing for her to come waltzing back into camp just as he’s relighting the fire, brandishing a rabbit or two for breakfast. So rather than wonder where she’s gone, Edér simply follows their routine and waits for her to return.

When the sun has crept up above the horizon and the others are beginning to stir awake, Edér does begin to get a bit concerned. The woods along the river pass aren’t especially thick, and Rudi is more than able to handle any stray bandits or wandering beasts… but still, with her luck it’s hard to tell what she might encounter. Best to check in on her, Edér decides, even if she makes fun of his hovering later on.

It doesn’t take long to find her- she didn’t bother to cover her tracks, and it’s hard to miss the lion footprints leading down dirt path. The first moment Edér catches sight of her, he thinks that maybe she actually fell asleep after all. She’s nestled on the ground, back against a tree, knees curled up to her chest so she can rest her chin on them. Sol is curled up at her feet, his tail flicking lazily through the leaves that cover the ground.

Then his foot comes down on a twig with a sharp snap, and Rudi’s head shoots up. Sol is on his feet at once, teeth bared and every hair in his mane standing on end.

“Whoa there, buddy,” Edér says, holding up his hands and giving the big cat a grin. “It’s just me.”

The lion only snarls in response, not relaxing until Rudi lays a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sol.” She stands, stretching out her arms as she does, and turns to give Edér a weak smile. “Checking up on me now? Sorry, I guess I lost track of time out here.”

Her tone is casual and unworried, but it doesn’t match up to her appearance. She just looks so damn tired- bags under her eyes, unsteady on her feet, and a half-hearted grin that just doesn’t quite do the job. “Now, I know it ain’t polite to comments on a lady’s appearance,” Edér says, keeping his tone light, “But did you get a wink of sleep last night?”

He’s hoping to draw a laugh out of her- and normally he might have- but today Rudi’s mood instantly shifts, her eyes narrowing and her mouth setting into a hard line. It’s the same look she gets when she’s deciding whether to shoot something or not, and if she weren’t looking too exhausted to aim straight Edér might consider hiding behind a tree. Eventually she settles for crossing her arms and fixing Edér with a stern look. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need sleep. I need to hunt down Thaos before…”

She stops and looks away, blinking hard and lifting a hand to her temple. The moment passes quickly, and then she’s pushing past Edér with a scowl. “Let’s just get going.”

“Whoa, there,” Edér says, putting a hand on her shoulder as she passes. “You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, pulling away.

“Right. You’re actin’ exactly a person who’s fine.”

Rudi turns her glare on him again, to which Edér only raises an eyebrow. And then the fight goes out of her, just as suddenly as it came, and her shoulders slump as she lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine, yes, I got some sleep. For all the good it did.”

“What does that mean?”

“I had…dreams.” Rudi looks down and kicks at the dirt. “Memories, I guess, I don’t know. And then I woke up and I didn’t even know where I was, I just kept thinking I had to find…someone. Like it was the most important thing in the world that I find her right away.”

Watcher stuff, Edér thinks, worry sinking into his stomach. He knows Rudi’s been having nightmares and visions and a whole mess of strange stuff. But he’s been hoping it’s the sort of the thing to get better with time, not worse. “Who were looking for?”

Rudi shrugs, but her eyes flicker upward, and for a moment they flash as Rudi stares at something that isn’t there. “Iovara.” She speaks the name heavily, as if each syllable carries an unfathomable weight.

Rudi goes silent then, until Edér finally has to ask, “Who’s that?”

The questions breaks her from her reverie, and she scowls and throws her hands into the air. “I don’t know!!” she exclaims, turning to pace in a circle. “I just had to find her, and I started moving- with no idea where I was or why I was here- and then Sol came up to me and for a split second I was scared. Of Sol. Like I didn’t even know who he was.”

Her voice gets thick, and she stops to take a breath, sinking once again to the ground with her back against the tree. Sol watches her with concern, and approaches to nuzzle against her shoulder. A small, sad smile creeps onto her face as she runs a hand through his mane.

As Edér watches the two of them, it occurs to him that he’s never actually seen them separated. Sol sleeps at Rudi’s bedside, shares her meals, even sit next to her in the receiving hall at Caed Nua. For Rudi to not even recognize him, even for a second…he can’t imagine it.

And apparently she can’t, either.

Eventually, Rudi recovers herself enough to continue. “After that, I guess I just…woke up. I remembered who I was, and the other memories went away but I…gods, Edér, I couldn’t go to sleep again. I couldn’t risk going away like that.” She closes her eyes, her hands trembling as they continue to stroke Sol’s mane. “I’ve always been able to take care of myself. But what am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?”

It’s a big question, that’s for sure. And yet to Edér, the answer is immediate and obvious.

“You trust us, of course.”

Whatever Rudi is expecting, apparently that isn’t it. She blinks, looking up at Edér in silence, and he takes advantage of her surprise to continue. “Hey, I know you haven’t really known us all that long. But you know we’re your friends, right?” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, maybe not Durance. I wouldn’t put much trust in him. But me and Sagani and everyone else- we got your back.”

He bends over and holds his hand out to Rudi. “We’re gonna look out for you, and we’re gonna find this Leaden Key guy, and we’re gonna put you right as rain again. So don’t worry too much about bad dreams and memories and such.”

Rudi hesitates, watching Edér with unveiled skepticism. “And if I forget again?”

He shrugs. “Bucket of cold water. It’s a cure-all, and I bet anything it’ll wake you right back up.”

Rudi regards him for a moment, then snorts as she takes his hand, letting him pull her up. When she’s on her feet again, she shakes her head and punches him in the arm. “That’s your first instinct? Really?”

“It’s an incentive, too,” Edér answers with a grin. “Keeps you on your toes.”

“Ass,” she says, but she’s laughing, and the tensions seems to have left her shoulders. She still looks exhausted, and maybe still a little worried…but she also looks much more like the Rudi Edér knows so well.

“Alright, let’s get back. For real this time.” She starts walking in the directions of the camp, rubbing your back and groaning as she goes. “Gods, I’m too old to be staying up all night. And we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Edér grins, falling into step beside her. “Bet you could convince Maneha to carry you for a while.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. First good idea you’ve had all day.” She continues like that, talking and making jokes as they approach the campsite, Sol padding quietly at her side. Just before they arrive in sight of the others, however, she pauses and glances at Edér from the corner of her eye.

“Thanks, by the way,” she says hurriedly, as if embarrassed by the words. “I do trust you, you know. I haven’t had someone like that for a long time, but…you’re a good friend.”

Edér nods- of course he knows. ‘Cause Rudi’s his friend, too- probably the best one he’s had since his brother- and looking out for each other is just what friends do.

#ch: rudi #prompt fill #thanks for the prompt!#pillars of eternity #risualto

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supertransural · 3 years

Text

thinking about dean cas and baby jack going on a road trip. dean’s used to being in the impala for long lapses of time, but it’s usually stressful, it’s tiring, it’s always in the expectancy of another job, another monster to be defeated. it’s always going from point A where a killer was killed to point B where another one awaits. it’s always about the job.

so this time, concentrating on the road as dusk was slowly creeping up on them, with cas dozing off beside him or maybe thinking hard about... something (this was cas after all, how was dean supposed to know what went on in his (his!! he still couldn’t believe that) angel’s head), squinting as always, his eyes almost shut; with 4yo jack in the backseat, drooling all over the fine black leather (if this wasn’t his kid, dean would’ve stopped the car already and thrown the child out just for this punishable-by-death-atrocity) and dreaming about a future dean gets to be a part of (goddammit how did he get so lucky), he was surprised when he didn’t feel the much-too-common tension in his shoulders. he felt... relaxed, yes that’s the word. it’s a word he was beginning to understand, a word that cas was teaching him how to feel.

a small smile cracked its way through dean’s face as he turned his attention back to the road. they were on their way to Louisiana, not set on a town yet. he may have been retired, but dean hadn’t lost his taste for adventure, so he had convinced his little family to just, wing it. he wondered if he should switch routes and see where the new one lead him, but that might upset cas who was really excited about eating the good food he’d heard his husband talk so much about. louisiana it is, then, he thought.

in the corner of his eye, he could see cas breathing deeply, no doubt already mapping out every possible resting spot for tonight, every corner store that sold kids food, maybe emergency stuff (cas could get a bit overwhelming when he listed off every single potential thing that may go terribly wrong with jack when they leave the safety of their house) or diners that cas deemed appropriate enough for their special kid. because he really was special, every smile, every laugh, every new drawing or string of words he puts together seemingly just so he can see his dads smile, every single thing this baby does is special. unique. and dean gets to see all those things, he gets to be there for everyone of them. jesus he’s getting emotional, should stop that now or cas will be teasing him about it for the rest of the trip. ok, deep breaths now, he thought. the road, the wheel in his hands, baby’s engine humming quietly. right. got it.

they packed frantically two days prior, because cas. jack was giggling the whole way through, observing them from his stool, since apparently dean looked really funny with peach fuzz he hadn’t had the time to shave yet (cas woke him up in a panic at 6am dammit) pink pajama shorts, his boots and a unicorn tshirt he only wore in cas’ presence (sam is a lovey kid, but hell if dean is ever going to let him see the collection of tshirts this one comes from). 4 suitcases, a couple inflatable duck-floaties, way too many towels, every single one of jack’s stuffed animals (except the little purple dinosaur one that jack was firmly holding onto during his inspection of his parents’ packing ordeal) and a thousand other useless things cas seemed to find essential to their survival.

“jesus, it’s only a couple weeks, honey!” dean had told him, trying to fit the last suitcase into the trunk of the impala (and miserably failing, to his own bitter disappointment).

“yes, a “couple weeks” within which we will apparently be doing things and going places we cannot foresee, as was your wish. i simply want to be prepared for any alternative your resourceful mind might come up with. and jack requires all his stuffies, he cannot sleep without counting each one of them before bed. you do not wish to see your child cry for two weeks, do you? you would not purposely cause him any pain, would you? right then the matter is settled. these items must find their way into this car you love so much, and i must attend to our son. his breakfast awaits!” cas had responded, mischievous smile growing larger with each sentence. “good luck!” he then added, giving dean a long and deep kiss, as if this was to be their last.

after a kiss like that, how was dean supposed to keep on complaining? he wasn’t, and that was exactly what cas intended, dean knew that. doesn’t mean he protested, or argued against his miraculous-bitch of a husband. so he had finished packing, muttering to himself, but unable to push down the grin that cas’ kiss had brought upon his face. or the flush of his cheeks for that matter.

here he was, happy as he’d ever been, relaxed for the first time ever while being on a long drive (first of many times, he hoped), with the love of his life on his right side, and the other light of his existence in the backseat, little hands still clutching the purple dinosaur.

“hey.” he heard a raspy and sleepy voice say. cas had indeed been asleep for the past 30 minutes.

“good morning, sleepyhead!” answered dean, chuckling.

he looked at cas’ beautifully hazy face, his icy blue eyes shining in the pink-orange light of the fading sun. god, how could this man be his, and how could dean ever refuse him anything. he reached out his right hand to place it on cas’ left thigh, stroking it lovingly in round patterns with his thumb. smiling at him, he wondered if giving him a quick kiss would cause his husband to start lecturing him again (for the thousandth time probably) about driving safely when jack was in the car.

fuck it, he thought. he glanced at the empty road, and lunged quickly towards cas before the former angel could refuse, and placed his lips on his for a few seconds. grinning to himself as he sat back, directing his gaze back to the highway, he waited for cas’ annoyed voice, no doubt already preparing a stern talking-to and threatening him to rat him out to the police to get his license taken away (not that it would matter, dean still had all his fake ID’s in a secret box back home, carefully tucked between baby clothes and pacifiers at the bottom of a drawer).

“dean.” cas started, a frown already carved into his forehead.

“oh no you don’t” dean cut him off. “if you lecture me, jack’s gonna feel it and he’ll wake up from what seems to be a very pleasant dream. save it for the hotel room, i know a few ways you can make me feel the weight of my wrongdoing.” he added with a wink.

cas turned to look at his son, still happily asleep in the back. frown disappearing, a sweet smile starting to lighten his expression (wow, he really could just look that magnificent whenever he felt like it) he turned back to face his partner.

“fine. just because he’s asleep. where are we?” cas said, squinting disapprovingly, then yawning silently.

“just passed the northern border of arkensas.” answered dean with a sigh. “gonna be a pretty boring drive from here on out”.

“i see. there’s a motel not far from here, with a town nearby where we could find sustenance, appropriate for jack too.” cas said, not even looking at his phone: he’d memorized each town’s location, every name of every motel, roadhouse, diner that they might encounter, because he was like that. and god did dean love him for it. “it’s getting a bit late, and i would rather see jack in a bed tonight than sleeping in the car” he remarked. “no offense to her” he added hurriedly when he felt dean’s glare after what could be interpreted as an insult to his baby.

“alright. when’s the exit for this town of yours?” dean asked absentmindedly.

“15 more miles, i believe.” cas answered, propping up an elbow on the windowsill.

“cool. tell me when you see it, i might forget, with you looking so handsome right next to me and all. tired father really is a good look on you.” dean whispered with a side smile.

“oh stop it. jack is right there.” cas answered, chuckling and fiddling with his wedding ring.

they stared at each other, peace settling comfortably between them.

“you know i love you, right?” said dean, without a hint of humor in his voice.

“yes, you’ve taken the habit of telling me, roughly 28 times a day, give or take.” joked cas as he saw dean scowl. “i love you too, now and forever, when the seas rise and swallow the land, when the heavens fall and the stars burn out, i will still love you, the only light that ever mattered, the first soul i ever really saw, the one i followed to hell and back. but you already knew that, right?” cas uttered with warmth, with the same voice he’d used at their wedding.

“jesus, cas. if you’re not careful, i might just end up falling for you. oh wait, i already did.” answered dean, face reddened and heart full. this is where he belonged.

dean’s hand was still on cas’ thigh, and their gazes were still locked together when jack woke from his sleep in an adorable mumble. he immediately started babbling to his fathers about the dream he had had (probably making up new details, but you could never know with that kid). as the family laughed together, dean looked to his window, and time stilled for a split second.

he saw a ghost of who he was, staring back at him in his reflection, eyes glossy with tears (joy? terror? sadness? love? hate? too hard to tell). the face in the makeshift mirror seemed to ask “is this really what is coming? will i truly get to where you are one day?”. dean smiled, nodding a silent “yes, yes you will. in time.” and the face faded away slowly, a little less scared than it had seemed at first.

when he looked back towards his husband and his son, his own eyes were glossy too.

“what’s wrong?” cas asked, worried.

“nothing, i’m just happy.” dean answered, wiping away a tear that was slipping down his cheek with a sure smile. “i’m just... happy.”

they drove until cas pointed at the exit, ate, and fell asleep contentedly.

18 years ago, dean dozed off without the need for strong booze in the very same motel, and the same tear (joy, maybe?) danced down his face into the pillow. a low hum of a voice saying “in time” ringing brightly in his mind, he fell asleep into the deepest slumber he’d ever gotten. “all will be well”, a voice kept repeating.

#oof ok this was supposed to be a short post about a fun road trip #i’m thinking i need to get better at writing so i can turn this into an actual fic #anyways imma be thinking about this for the rest of this evening bye #spn #supernatural #destiel #cas #dean #dean winchester #deancas #bidean #baby jack #ficlet

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bijoharvelle · 4 years

Text

i saw this post from @top13zepptraxx and uh...... i wrote the angst. cw: major character death [cas]

Faintly, Dean realizes that the wordless shout of rage, of despair, came from him. Some part of him is still lunging forward, stopped only by Sam holding him. He fights, blindly, only registering Cas, Cas’s body, Cas falling to his knees and then collapsing back and then the searing flash of grace released. Cas was so diminished that it only lasts a second.

Between one blink and the next, Cas is dead on the ground, his tarnished wings spreading ash across tallgrass and dandelions.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before,” Chuck says, as if he’s just solved an insect infestation. “It was always Castiel, wasn’t it? What did Naomi call him -- the famous spanner in the works?” Chuck laughs, almost fondly. Crouching, he leans close to Cas’s face.

“Get away from him!” Dean yells and he’s staggering forward. Sam let his guard down, so Dean is up in God’s face in a second.

He can remember a roadside fast-food shack. A last ditch prayer with desolation crowding in on his chest. He can remember, forever, the silence in answer.

There’s a cruel twist to Chuck’s grin as he looks up from the husk of Castiel to Dean. “I created so many worlds,” he says, his tone one of wonder, “so many universes. And in all of them -- every one of them, Dean -- he loved you.”

There’s something rising up in Dean and it might be bile, it might be tears. It might be that hollow, choking feeling that has followed every defeat they’ve found their way into, every unforced error, every blockade that’s risen from the snowmelt of every almost-success. All that comes out, though, is a strangled out cry.

He trades positions with God. Chuck rises to his feet as Dean drops to knees. He reaches out, strokes at the sweaty fringe that falls over Cas’s forehead.

“Did you know that? That he loved you?”

He thought it, maybe. Had considered it, some dark nights. He thought it as he watched Cas walk back into a Gas ‘N’ Sip in Idaho and he thought it as he watched the angel back from the dead next to a payphone and he thought it as Cas showed him the truth of Purgatory and he thought it as he said, lost, “For what it’s worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.” He thought it and rejected it and thought it and rationalized why it couldn’t be.

“Some part of you must have,” Chuck is saying but he’s mostly white noise to Dean. Everything else is white noise, except Cas. “He wasn’t exactly subtle about it, was he?”

There was one time. The night before he let Cas go in Idaho. There were looks and thick swallows and there was Cas’s hand at his shoulder and Dean’s hands at Cas’s hips, suddenly, and Cas’s back against a motel wall. And then…there was nothing.

Because Dean shuddered through an inhale and ducked his head and Cas said his name and Dean stuttered something about a shower and then…that was it.

Maybe Dean’s whole life has just been a series of missed chances, one after another, with the biggest, most important one laid out before him. Some part of him, some deep twist at the base of his stomach, knows that this isn’t like any of the times before. Isn’t even like the time with Lucifer at the lake. Because Cas is really gone (like that time) but something sure and certain and crippling inside Dean is whispering that he’s not coming back. You don’t come back when God personally kills you.

“Hey!”

Similarly, when God wants your attention, you’re a little powerless.

“What?” Dean barks. Because Chuck might be God but he still just killed Cas.

“You’re not listening,” Chuck says, sounding like a petulant second-grader.

Dean is halfway to spitting out a “fuck you” when Chuck reaches out. And Dean thinks, This is it and This is how I die and, optimistically, Coming, Cas.

But it doesn’t come, Death. Chuck puts his fingers to Dean’s forehead and it hits him like lightning. Knowledge… It takes him a minute to realize what exactly he’s seeing: those other universes. All the ways Cas has loved him.

There’s the horrible world taken over by Croatoans. There’s a pink-cheeked, dazed Cas sprawled over a dilapidated armchair in a cabin with a beaded curtain. His hair is dirty and a mess and when that terrible version of Dean from 2014 stalks forward, he fists his hand in the hair. Cas grins with all his teeth and tips his chin to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean says something, close and soft and heated. Cas’s face changes, warms, melts, and his eyes go to half-mast. Dean leans forward into him.

There’s a world shot through with grayscale and Cas has a soldier’s set to his shoulders and hair that’s so neat it almost looks messy again. He’s standing in some barren wasteland and his eyes are to the sky. He’s staring and staring and staring and Dean can remember his Cas staring at a motel’s ceiling, cursing his deadbeat dad.

There’s a park and there are children running happily. There’s sun, so much sun, and there’s Jack and Sam laughing as they chase some toddler and there’s Cas looking at Dean, who’s watching the mismatched game of tag. And there’s Dean, looking back and finding Cas’s eyes and smiling. Dean reaches back and his hand is open and waiting, for Cas. All for Cas.

There’s a barn, and there’s a prophet’s house, and there’s a ring of holy fire, and there’s a reservoir, and there’s Purgatory, and there’s a crypt, and there’s the bunker, and there’s a Mark on his arm, and there are arms around him from behind, and there’s Lucifer’s sick grin, and there’re wings burned into a lake shore, and there’s a call coming through as Steppenwolf plays, and there’s a Jack’s body cradled in a graveyard, and there’s Cas’s dejected shoulders, and Cas’s angry spine, and there’s a blossom from Purgatory and there’s Cas, there’s Cas, there’s Cas.

There’s, finally, a bed.

It’s in a room of mostly mid-tone wood and there’s sunlight coming in from a window, casting lines across the bed.

There’s Cas, sprawled on his stomach with his hair even more of a wreck than usual and he’s not wearing a shirt and his face is tipped so the soft smile there is obvious. And Dean is underneath him. It’s not some other Dean that he’s watching like out-of-body, no, this is Dean. He can feel the weight of him, the heat. He can feel the slight shift as Cas breathes in and out, he can feel the smooth skin between Cas’s shoulder blades, where his hand is running up and down.

Dean is crying and he slides his fingers into Cas’s hair. He snuffles at the touch and stirs and his smile goes even wider. Dean cries harder, full sobs that wrack through his chest but Castiel doesn’t seem to notice.

He opens his eyes and smiles at Dean. Reaching, he laces their fingers together and cocks his head. “Hello, Dean,” he says, like he’s said a hundred, a thousand, times before and Dean can’t breathe. A cloud moves and the sun is brighter. Dean can feel it on his bare skin, he can see the shadows it makes over Cas’s cheeks. “I love you,” Cas says quietly. Dean’s never seen him so easy, so calm, so...at peace.

The bed falls out from under him and Dean is landing on hands and knees and there’s just bluegrass and ash under his fingers. “No, no, no,” he’s chanting. He can feel his stomach turning and he can’t breathe.

“Maybe now you’ll learn to play by my rules,” Chuck says, and then he’s gone.

A moment later, or maybe it’s an hour, or maybe it’s a second, Sam is at his side and holding onto his shoulders. “Dean, c’mon,” he’s saying. His words are waterlogged. “Please, Dean…”

It must have been more than just seconds, though, because when Dean comes back to his sight, Jack is on the ground too, his head on Cas’s chest. All curled up on the corpse of his father.

Dean shakes his head. He stands, dirt sifting through his hands as he goes.

The imprint of Cas’s wings burnt into the ground bear a handprint, high on the left, where Dean levels himself up off the ground.

“Dean?” he hears behind him as he turns, sees the Impala shining in the setting sun.

“C’mon, Sam,” he says. He shrugs one arm up, wiping at the raw-red of his eyes. He worries his bottom lip with his tongue and then, more to himself than anyone else, murmurs, “We got work to do.”

@prayedtoyou • @vcastiel • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you • @bianca29753 • @spaceshipkat • @wanderingcas • @601218764 • @nickelkit • @dizzypinwheel • @epple-benene • @kayrosebee • @randomlikes24 • @feraladoration • @queenvee08 • @thursdaysangels

#destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #destiel #deancas #spncreatorsdaily #WHAT MAKES YOU HAHA . MP3 #wow look i actually wrote angst #my stuff

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leahxx129 · 4 years

Text

His Name (demon!Dean Winchester x Reader)

This is a submission for the immensely talented @fvckingavengers ‘ quarantine writing challenge. Also, I’d like to credit @angelkurenai since her soulmate AU imagines provided the main idea for this fic.

My prompt for inspiration was:

You’re all I need when I’m holding you tight / If you walk away I will suffer tonightI found a man I can trust / And boy, I believe in us / I am terrified to love for the first time / Can’t you see that I’m bound in chains? / I finally found my way / I am bound to you - Bound to You by Christina Aguilera

Summary: Nobody knew why or how, but on their thirteenth birthday every person on planet Earth would start feeling this burning sensation on their left lower arm, which intensifies as the day carries on. By the time the sun goes down, the burning sensation would leave a scar, forming a name. It’s believed to be the name of the person one belongs with. The letters on your skin spell out Dean Winchester.

Warnings: angst, mild swearing

Word count: 3.275-ish

Sam Winchester is staring intensely on the map in the War room as if he watched it closely enough, it would show where his brother went from the last place he’d been spotted at. Sam is tired beyond words – he has spent every waking hour searching for Dean, even though he is not sure that the demon curing ritual would work on a Knight of Hell.

„You know we’re gonna find him, right?” Cas speaks up, making Sam jump a little.

„Cas... didn’t see you there... Uhm, sure, I know. It’s just harder than I thought.” his words don’t really comply with his facial expression.

„Well, I do not know if this is helpful, but Crowley sent me a photo a few minutes ago with a text saying ’Show this to Moose’. It depicts a woman I have never seen before.” he hands Sam the phone.

„Oh my God!” Sam’s eyes light up with excitement. „Why haven’t I thought of that?!”

„Thought of what? I think I’m in the dark here, Sam.”

But Sam is too busy looking for something in his pockets to answer. A couple of seconds later a familiar rattle indicates he found his car keys and he claps Cas on the shoulder.

„We have a long drive ahead of us, buddy.”

It‘s 2. a.m. on a Thursday night, you are wiping the bar counter with a cloth. Nothing out of the ordinary happened all evening. You started your shift around 6 p.m. at the local bar, only the regulars came in. The air was heavy with the scent of liquor and cigarette smoke. Even the old jukebox in the corner and the clatter of billiard balls sounded pretty much the same as every night.

Just as you’ve finished wiping and start washing the glasses, the main door opens then closes slowly with a squeak.

„I’m sorry but were closed! Try tomorrow, pal.” you say without looking at the newly arrived guest. It’s not a rare phenomenon that someone wants to stick around for a couple more drinks after closing time, so you don’t suspect anything. Not until the person begins talking, anyway.

’Really? I thought you’d make an exception for an old friend...”

Hearing Sam Winchester’s voice makes your blood run cold, numbing you to an extent that the glass you are holding slips out of your grasp and shatters to a dozen pieces on the floor.

„Sam...” despite your best efforts you can’t muster anything other than his name.

„I mean, I was hoping you’d be excited to see me, Y/N, but breaking glasses is not necessary. Or safe.” he chuckles, sitting down on a bar stool.

„Shut up, smartass!” you intend to look serious, but a smile creeps on your face, nevertheless.

There’s a long moment of silence. Neither of you want to spoil the joy of reunion so you just look at one another, taking in how the other has changed over the years. You pour two scotches and finally Sam clears his throat.

„I see you’re still covering up his name.” he states, referring to your bracelets that hide most of your left lower arm.

Oh, right. His name. Frankly, you tend to forget about those words burnt in your skin quite easily.

Nobody knew why or how, but on their thirteenth birthday every person on planet Earth would start feeling this burning sensation on their left lower arm, which intensifies as the day carries on. By the time the sun goes down, the burning sensation would leave a scar, forming a name. It’s believed to be the name of the person one belongs with. The letters on your skin spell out Dean Winchester.

You can still picture the day you got it crystal clearly.

It was around 10 p.m. when it finished burning and you were able to read it. Your father’s face turned to an ashy color and he drove you to Bobby Singer’s house where the Winchesters were staying at the time. Hearing an engine die, Bobby and John came out to see who the unexpected visitors were.

“Stay in the car!” your father ordered through gritted teeth as he got out and you obeyed.

John smiled when he recognized him, but his smile soon turned to a painful grimace – courtesy of your father’s amazing left hook.

“What the hell, man?!” he shouted in disbelief, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand. Bobby was visibly indecisive whether to stop the fight or let it play out.

“I could ask you the very same question, Winchester!” your father bellowed in response.

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

“I’m talking about the name that formed on my little girl’s arm, John! You have some dark connections, you must’ve got something to do with it!”

“It’s Dean, isn’t it?” you could see the epiphany on his face even in the poor light that filtered through Bobby’s kitchen window. “Look, pal... you and I both know damn well that this cannot be controlled.”

A long silence ensued. Only the crickets could be heard.

“Ever since my girl’s name showed up on your boy’s arm, I prayed every single night for it to be a mistake. For her to get a different name when the time comes, and you know I don’t believe in God, John!” your father’s voice cracked. “I prayed for her to get the name of a lawyer, a doctor or a dentist… somebody that’ll provide for her. And she got a hunter. Out of seven billion people, she got a hunter… I don’t want her to end up like Mary, or her Mom.”

John took a step closer and squeezed your father’s shoulder.

“Dean will take good care of her, I promise.”

You banish the memory as quickly as you can. The only thing you’re thankful for is the fact that none of your dads lived long enough to see how much of a lie John’s promise would prove to be.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cover it up.” you answer Sam coldly and he shoots you an apologetic look.

“What about yours? Have you found your, uhm... what’s her face… Eileen Leahy?” your pronunciation earns a genuine smile from him.

“No, not yet. I’m starting to think she’s a myth.”

“Well then, she’s the luckiest myth in this whole damn world, I can tell you that much.”

You down your drink in one gulp and decide to ask what’s been bothering you ever since he set foot in the bar.

“Alright, Sam, honest talk. Why are you here? What’s up? I gave you this address for emergencies and the fact that we’re having a face-to-face conversation right here, right now is a bad sign in my book.”

He looks like he’s contemplating the way to present the situation to you, but you’re having none of it.

“No need for sugarcoating, hot stuff, just spill it.”

“Dean’s a demon.”

You’re not sure if you’ve heard it right or the scotch you’ve just drunk was spiked.

“Excuse me?”

“Dean’s a demon. He died with the Mark of Cain on his arm and he turned into a Knight of Hell. Gone rogue. I want to fix him, but you know Dean... it’s damn hard to find him when he doesn’t wanna be found.” he flashes you a smile but when you don’t replicate it, he continues “I’m here because he’s here, Y/N. Based on my intel, he’s been visiting this bar to see you. Will you help me cure him?”

With a blank stare you pour yourself another drink, now wishing for it to be spiked.

The next day after closing you don’t get into your car immediately; you decide to light a cigarette first. Sam’s words are still echoing in your ears. A demon? And he’s been visiting the bar to see you? Why the hell would he do that? You’re about to stub the remainder of your cigarette when you hear his voice from behind you.

“I always thought you looked incredibly sexy when you smoked, darlin’. Turned me on so much.”

You spin around on your heels just to bump straight into Dean’s chest. He grabs hold of your arms to steady you. His touch gives you goosebumps, but you compose yourself swiftly. You cannot allow him to see the effect he still has on you, even after everything that happened.

“I know, Dean, you made it clear quite a few times with your actions… what I don’t know, however, is the reason behind your little visit... so, a fucking explanation would be nice. But first, let go of me!”

“That’s such an ugly word from such a pretty mouth… and to be honest, I think you know damn well what I’m doing here. A birdy tells me Sammy paid you a visit and I doubt that he didn’t share a few things about me, Y/N. As for letting you go… sorry, no can do.” he smirks.

“What do you mean ‘no can do’, Winchester?!” you ask sharply, panic rising withing you.

“Well, more precisely, I don’t want to. I’ve missed you.” he leans in closer to your face “And frankly, I don’t want you to put those engraved demon cuffs on me that peek from your back pocket, sweetie.” he whispers against your lips.

“Okay. How ‘bout the ones Sam is about to put on you?” you whisper back, causing him to furrow his brows in confusion and lean away. This gives you enough space to headbutt him and he automatically stumbles a step backwards, allowing Sam to cuff him from behind.

With united forces you manage to hustle Dean into the trunk of your car.

“You know, demon or not, it’s nice to know some things never change. You’ve always let your dick do the thinking instead of your brain.” you tell him condescendingly before closing the trunk.

When Dean wakes up in the Men of Letters’ dungeon restrained, at first, he’s perplexed. Then as realization slowly hits him, his face becomes distorted with fury and he starts wriggling in an attempt to break free, but he doesn’t succeed. A frustrated, unhuman-like growl leaves his throat. You watch this with undeniable pleasure.

„Mornin’, sunshine!” you greet him jovially.

There’s a short silence as he watches you prepare some syringes on the nearby iron table.

„So, you’re the one who’s gonna do it, huh? Or at least try...” he says arrogantly.

„Yup!”

„Now that’s funny ’cause you see I thought you hated needl-„ but you don’t let him complete his sentence as you pierce your skin faster than he could finish it. Your blood fills up the syringe in no time.

You walk over to him and sit on his lap in a straddling position.

„I do hate needles, Dean.” You admit „Kudos for remembering. But I’m pretty sure that you’ll hate what comes next even more than I hate them and that makes it worth it.”

Before he could react, you stab him in the neck with the syringe, completely emptying its content into his artery. The unhuman growl breaks out once again, but this time it turns into manic laughter.

„Wow, that was exciting!” he exclaims as his eyes turn black „Almost as exciting as Jo holding me at gunpoint when we first met. But just almost... You know, there were times I wished it was her name on my arm instead of yours.”

„Interesting. Because there were times I wished it was your brother’s name on mine, but I guess we can’t always get what we want, now can we?” you shrug and walk back to the table, not minding Dean’s pitch-black stare. He thought he could hurt you since Jo was your best friend, but you manage to hit closer to home.

You sit down on a chair, place your legs on the table and put your headphones on.

„What are doing?” Dean asks, clearly upset.

„You didn’t seriously think I was gonna listen to your annoying blabber until the next shot, did you?” he opens his mouth to reply but you turn on the music on your phone and start lip-syncing to ’Dream on’ by Aerosmith.

In the following four hours you administer the next four shots, each at every clock turn. Dean says something insulting each time and you try to ignore him each time - with more or less success.

“Alright, hot stuff, time for the sixth shot!” examining your arm you realize it starts resembling to a needle pillow, but you draw another fix for him all the same.

This time he appears calmer. He’s not trying to pull his head away or even bite you like at some previous occasions. No shouting or growls either. You can see he started sweating, the small drops glisten on his skin like illuminated diamonds. Could the ritual actually be working?

You’re halfway back to the table when he calls you by the nickname he gave you, forcing you to turn back.

“I just want you to know I admire you. I really do, Y/N. Seeing you put this much effort into this makes me wish I put more in our relationship.” he shoots you a sad, crooked smile.

“Careful, Dean. If you don’t stop attempting to manipulate my emotions, I’m gonna punch you in the face. Again. But this time harder.” you warn him.

“I’m not toying with you. I honestly wish.”

“Well it’s kind of too late for that, isn’t it?” you take a step closer to him and pull up the bracelets on your arm. “See these words? They are the sole reason I’m here and doing this. Okay?”

“Who are you trying to fool, sweet thing? Me or yourself?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Your hands tremble when you get back to the table and put the headphones on. You feared this moment would come and here it is. He’s trying to get under your skin. And it’s working.

Later on when you approach him with the seventh shot, he tilts his head to the side, offering his neck.

“Go on.” he encourages you and you take the opportunity. The ferocious, invincible being Sam chained down is nowhere to be seen – a broken man with beautiful green eyes looks longingly at you instead.

“There’s one more to go and you’ll be your annoying self again, hot stuff.” you tell him softly, relenting a little.

“And you?”

“I’ll be on my way to the farthest place from here.” you decide to tell him the truth, which seems to render him speechless for a minute.

“Why do you hate me so much, Y/N?” I mean, I know I’ve never been the high definition of an awesome boyfriend, trust me, but the amount of resentment I sense baffles me.” he asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

The ball of uneasiness in your stomach grows two sizes in the span of a minute.

“You’ve lost your right to ask such personal questions four years ago, Winchester. You’ve lost it when you left that letter on the kitchen counter, and you walked out on us!” you say in a strained voice.

Suddenly, all the memories you‘ve worked so hard to suppress flood back in.

When Sam jumped in the pit, Dean was lost. His self-destructive behavior foreshadowed a gruesome end and you just couldn’t let him spiral down like that. You made arrangements and got out of the life. Rented a house in the countryside and started living like a normal couple. Beforehand, your relationship was stormy to say the least, but settling down steadied it a lot. Everything was picture perfect for about a year - then you found that damn letter when you arrived home from work. Dean explained in it that Sam was alive, and he needed some time to figure stuff out. You didn’t even get the chance to tell him what you learned that day… and this was the last straw. You never contacted Dean Winchester again, nor did you speak to him directly. Your liaison was Sam up until that night in the bar’s parking lot.

Dean’s voice brings you back to reality.

“My brother came back from the dead… I was confused, Y/N. Just like I wrote, I needed time! After a while I was trying to reach out to you, but you refused to even-“he stops mid-sentence “Wait a minute… walked out on you… as in… plural?”

You nod mechanically and his eyes widen.

“Wha-what happened?” he chokes out eventually.

“I was pregnant. Then miscarried. Don’t worry about it.”

Is that really a teardrop running down his cheek, or are you imagining things?

“Don’t worry about it?” he raises his voice in disbelief. “That’s all you’re gonna say about it?!”

“I don’t want to say anything else, Dean. Because if I pull on that thread again, my mind will go to a dark, lonely place and I think I deserve better than that.”

“Goddamnit…” he exhales loudly, then continues “When all of this is over, I want you to stay.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I want you to stay with me. Here. I want a clean slate, a-a new beginning.”

You can’t comprehend what’s happening. One minute you were curing your ex-boyfriend from demonism, and the other he wants to start things over despite your history together.

Instead of replying, you fill up the last syringe and administer the eighth shot quickly, then deliver the required incantation. Just as you finish, Sam enters the dungeon and you run past him straight to your car. You open the door but before you could sit in somebody closes it from behind. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is, but you do it anyway. Dean takes your left arm and reveals his own name.

“I remember the night you got this thing. I was in the house when you and your dad arrived at Bobby’s and I witnessed the whole ordeal. I know that ‘til now I did a crappy job keeping the promise my dad made to yours but give me one last chance to do it right, okay?”

You look away, trying to blink back a few tears that want to escape your eyes deperately.

“I don’t know, Dean…”

He gently grasps your chin to make you face him.

“You know, when Sam gave me your message saying you don’t need me anymore, I thought – fine. If you don’t need me, I don’t need you, simple as that. But it was a lie. I only realized how big when I became a Knight of Hell… I enjoyed killing, Y/N. I enjoyed killing so much that it scared the crap out of me. But all this darkness and anger brought on by the mark alleviated one night when I accidentally stopped at that bar and saw you…”

“Damn, Winchester, are we having a chick-flick moment here?” you ask, trying to take the edge off the situation while wiping your eyes.

“Yeah…I guess we are. But don’t tell anyone ‘cause it would ruin my reputation.” he whispers the last part.

You scoff loudly.

“What reputation are you talking about, exactly? I think you lost every bit of it back in the parking lot when I kicked your demon ass.”

“Oh, well, I guess you’re right, sweet thing.” he admits with a breathy laughter.

“As for a second chance… fine. But fail to keep that promise once more and I’ll be gone for good. Understood?”

At first a look of genuine surprise spreads on his face but it soon gets switched up by gratitude. He places a feather light kiss on your lips as confirmation.

Truth be told, you could never leave him just as he could never leave you – at least not permanently. No matter the pain and the misery, you belong with each other. Your souls are bound by an invisible lace that nothing can tear apart.

#dean winchester #reader #dean x reader #supernatural #SPN #spnfic #deanmon

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spnfanficpond · 4 years

Text

January Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle or Mana to check and make sure we got your submission.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE THE FIRST ANGEL FISH AWARDS OF 2020!

Cabin Fever (a long oneshot) by @slytherkins was nominated three times!

I said all of this in my reblog, but this is FUCKING GOLD. It depicts life with chronic pain so beautifully, I read most of this with my heart in my throat. Have tissues, heed the warnings, but definitely read this! - @mrswhozeewhatsis

Tara is the Queen of Angst. She never fails to break my heart but this fic was something else entirely. I always feel like her stories could be canon and this is no exception!! Dean was exactly how I imagine he would be, Sam too. Without giving any spoilers: the scene setting - I was there, I could see them preparing dinner, sat around the table eating, I felt the coldness of the snow.

The raw emotions were sublime, I cried with Dean. I felt I could feel his pain, I was with him every step of the way, I felt his desperation. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. - @princessmisery666

O. M. G. I don’t expect anything less than incredible when I read Tara’s stuff, but this is on another level. The angst is painful (literally, sometimes), the detail is exquisite. She put heart and soul into this, and it shows. And as always, her Dean is spot-tf-on. Tara’s a brilliant writer, and this fic is amazing. ❤❤❤ - @risingphoenix761

Nominated by @manawhaat

Satin (oneshot) by @wingedcatninja

This fic has some out of the box, vulnerable, sexy, surprising Dean feels! I went into it expecting one thing and what I got was so different from what I could have imagined, but it was so wonderful and refreshing to read!

Next Year (series) by @wingedcatninja

Holy crap, the intensity and control in this fic is astounding. It’s so palpable from start to end and this is only the first fucking part. Seriously stellar and surprisingly reverential.

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

For Better or Worst (ongoing series) by @stunudo

There’s so much mystery and intrigue in this series and I just can’t stop wondering how it’s all going to work out! Sam made some kind of deal to save the world and the deal involved marrying this woman and getting out of hunting. But what was the deal, exactly? And where’s Dean? And who is this woman? What about Cas and Jack? I’m so freaking hooked and I can’t wait to find out!!

Nominated by @princessmisery666

Love You To Death (series) by @negans-lucille-tblr

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not into AU’s but this had me hooked from the beginning. I hate Y/N, I hope she gets whats coming to her, but I also so desperately want to be her, which is a testament to the wonderful writing of both Lisa and Bee. I can’t wait to see how this one unfolds.

These two together are a force to be reckoned with.

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

One And One Make Three (series) by @supernatural-jackles

This series was absolutely stunning, beautifully written, and an amazing rollercoaster of emotion. Jen handled some very sensitive subject matters with grace and wit. It has ALL the feels; I cried, laughed, and loved right along with the characters.

Nominated by @flamencodiva

Skeptics and True Believers (series) by @d-s-winchester

I love this story! It had me on the edge of my seat when I read through the master list. the way she wove the story together made me happy for the ending to the story!

Good Things (series) by @crashdevlin

This is Part one to four parts of writing GOLD! Cassie knows how to completely put you in the story and envision what is happening.

How Do You Spell Forever? (series) by @kittenofdoomage

This is part one of a four parter and OMG! Can I say that this is sweet and cute and full of A/B/O goodness? because this is! and it should be read and shared!

Nominated by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

Heathens (series) by @pink1031

Why: I have been 1000000% hooked on this story since the first chapter was published. It’s a little bit twisted, a little bit wrong, a whole lot dirty, and a whole lot of amazing writing! At the time of this submission, the last chapter is in progress (don’t get me started on the fact that it’s ending D:). It is without a doubt, one of the few stories I stop what I am doing (life permitting) and read the new chapter when I get notified. READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY THOUGH, this is not a story for the faint of heart or those that get squicked out (is that even a term?). But if you like dark and dirty, this fic will absolutely be your jam.

Nominated by @risingphoenix761

My Home (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage

Short and sweet, but it got me all choked up. To repeat what I said in tags, bless this fic and the hands that typed it.

Feels Like The First Time (oneshot) by @stusbunker

This gets better every time I reread it. Sweet and sexy and kinda touching. Any time I need a Samwitch fix, I come back to this one. ❤

Nominated by @lovetusk ( @fictionalabyss )

Turning Into Butter (oneshot) by @thing-you-do-with-that-thing

Lets be honest with this one, shall we? We’d ALL get that distracted by a half naked Dean.

Please Don’t Go (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

Dawn tested out her Angsting abilities in this Adam x Reader fic, and I’m hoping we get to see more of it. Like why is Dean so angry? I NEED TO KNOW!

Someone You Loved (oneshot) by @ne-gans

So glad ne-gans is now part of the pond because now I can nominate this beautiful thing that made me cry.

Nominated by @impala-dreamer

Stupor (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

The hottest hot to ever hot in the hottest way possible - SOULLESS!DOM!SAM!! I ded. Very hot. Much smut. Very good.

Hurt So Good (oneshot) by @alleiradayne

This was tasty. Pun intended. I have such a biting thing and Sam would be so amazing. Yes. Devour me, Winchester!! Loved it.

Nominated by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

Isn’t That My Line (oneshot) by @princessmisery666

I went into this one intrigued by the concept and I got even more than I was hoping for. A little twist I didn’t expect here, a perfect ending there. Amazing.

Control And Release (series) by @thecleverdame

I just needed to bring this one back. Started rereading the entire series and it’s still as amazing as the first time I read this masterpiece.

Photographs and Gasoline (oneshot) by @ne-gans

Always gotta check the new pond member list when I’m making my rounds. Found this fic and fell in love. It’s absolutely heartbreaking but I loved every second of it. Guess if I have to torture myself, I prefer to do it with beautiful writing like this.

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Smokes and Sex Toys (oneshot) by @wayward-and-worn

This is delightfully fucking filthy. But that’s not all; Dean’s characterization is SO DEAN - flirty yet straightforward - it reminded me of the scene with the bartender in Defending Your Life, I love the simple yet creative premise, and I adore that it’s left open-ended.

Sick Day - @fangirlxwritesx67

Viv wrote this for me - it’s true - but that isn’t the reason I’m nominating this; it’s because this is so warm and comfortable and just feels like Dean. Like I actually felt like I was in his lap while I feel asleep reading this. (Also, check out my girl’s other works. She’s fairly new but balls to the wall and bursting with ideas and words for just about anyone.)

Nominated by @slytherkins

Isn’t That My Line (oneshot) by @princessmisery666

Short. Sinful. Sexy. It’s like a smutty snack that hits the spot. (And so does Dean.)

Nominated by @kittenofdoomage

What Goes Bump In The Night (series) by @saxxxology

A phenomenal series, historic and dark, with all the fantastic detail you’d expect from Saxxy and more! Please heed the warnings though!

The World Doesn’t Know (oneshot) by @negans-lucille-tblr

A wonderful little smutty J2 fic, for those who enjoy that fantasy.

Marked (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

I’ve only read the first chapter so far, but hot damn! This is a spectacular start to a promisingly dark series. AND The Right Spot - a smutty smutty follow up to another oneshot that literally made me sweat.

Just Like A Pill by @princessmisery666

The angsty sequel to In Spite Of What My Heart Says and you should totally read both parts, just keep tissues by you in case of heartbreak!

Nominated by @focusonspn

House Of The Rising Sun (series) by @kittenofdoomage

I’ve never liked BDSM themes too much but, OH MY GOOD!! This series is AMAZING!! It even has a sequel: The Ones You Love. Go and read it, you won’t regret it.

Yes, Sir (series) by @evansrogerskitten

Ash must be tired of me praising this fic but I can’t help myself, it’s one of my favorite series ever and deserves this recognition. This is a series that every John girl out there should be reading RIGHT NOW. It has everything! Smut, fluff and a tiny bit of angst and drama.

Good Vibrations (series) by @impala-dreamer

At first I wasn’t sure if I should bring this fic here because all the drama I heard it existed about it but, then I thought it twice, and I came to the conclusion that this fic definitely deserve to be part of these awards. This piece of writing was the first (after Dear John, I have to admit) that actually made me cry. It’s dark, it’s sad as fuck, it’s damn well written, and makes you easily get inside the characters and feel what they’re feeling. That being said, if you’re thinking of reading it, please HEED THE WARNINGS.

Take a Drunk Girl Home (oneshot) by @amanda-teaches

This fic is so beautiful and so well written that I promise you even can end up tearing up a little, but it’s so worth it that you won’t care a bit.

Nominated by @emilyshurley

His Property (series) by @negans-lucille-tblr

I freaking love this series to the point that i binged the series (and it’s sequel, Yours) in a single day.

Just Me & My Baby (oneshot) by @deanwinchesterswitch

Can’t get over how adorable it is.

Guns and Ribbons (series) by @myinconnelly1

What can I say Dean Winchester deserves all the love in this world and so does this series.

I Can See Clearly Now (oneshot) by @katehuntington

I can’t. I don’t have words. This is perfection.

In the Heat of the Night (series) by @evansrogerskitten

Nominated by @impalaimagining

Goals (oneshot) by @atc74

Okay. It's been a long time since I've found Sam smut that really gets me into it. This though - it's a whole different level of wonderful. I love the way it explores a woman finding and embracing her own sexuality, and the frustration that can come along with it. It's obvious how much effort and research and actual planning went into this. My favorite kinds of fics are those that draw from real life experiences, which I think it what makes this one so special. And the end? Yes please!

Nominated by @fangirlxwritesx67

Everything (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

I can’t even talk about how great this J2 x reader series is without incoherent fangirl flailing. It’s wildly creative, sharply well written, and absolutely panty-melting filthy! And then just when you’re so hot and bothered that you can’t see straight, *boom*, it’s sweet and intimate and loving. I don’t think there’s a series out there I’ve read this many times!

Hark and Hush by @thoughtslikeaminefield

This is a luscious, dark and twisted fairy tale about Dean and the spirit of the Big Bad Wolf. It’s written so vividly that you can see and smell and taste the whole story. Sexy af, of course, and so intense- take the warnings seriously!

The Kind of Girl You Like (series) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

To me, MJ will always be the Queen of the Winchester threesome and this series shows exactly why. Smoking hot story about the brothers sharing a sub that quickly unfolds into something complex and beautiful. The last chapter especially is written with so much emotional depth- the first time I read it, I was swearing and crying and smiling all at once because it was so well done! Just the best!

Nominated by @supersassyprobablysad

How You & I Will Be (series) by @katehuntington

Hey so I wanted to do an angel fish award nom for Kate for her How You & I Will Be fic. In 5 parts she not only developed believable characters but by the end I was ugly crying (and I don’t cry a lot so that’s saying something). The ending feels totally necessary too, not like it was just done for shock value. Anyway I love it, it’s the best I’ve read in a long time.

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

As with the BFAs, these are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#afa masterlist #angel fish awards #spnfanficpond #spn fic rec #spn fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fic rec #supernatural fic rec #spn fan fic

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zmediaoutlet · 5 years

Text

side two, track one

(read on AO3)

Mom bails that same night, with her eyes still puffed-red from crying, her face drawn in haggard lines that make her look the age she ought to be. I'm sorry, she says, voice thin, I just—and Sam nods but doesn't say anything. He wants to say sorry, too, for different reasons, but it's not like it will do any good. What's done is done. He goes up the stairs with her and watches her climb into that battered truck, and watches her curl her hands around the steering wheel and bend her forehead down to it and watches her shoulders shake, and he goes back inside because no one should have to be seen going through that, especially not for the second time.

Castiel's been hovering, not sure what to do. He's still sitting at the map table when Sam comes down the stairs. "Where's Dean?" Sam says, to forestall Cas asking any other, harder questions, and Cas's face is set in a kind of still sympathy but he only says, "His room, I think," and, yeah. That makes sense. Sam drags his hand over his face, scraping over the growth on his jaw. He can't even imagine the nightmares he's going to have tonight, which is saying something. Life goes on, though, until it can't, and that's not an option tonight or for a long time, so he says to the ground, "Sounds like a good plan," and gives Cas a smile even if it doesn't feel too genuine, and he goes out down the halls and walks past Dean's door and doesn't do more than just touching the wood as he passes, and then he closes his own door behind himself and crawls fully-clothed onto the bed and shuts his eyes, and sleeps like that.

In the morning, it doesn't feel as gutting. He wakes up before his alarm. If he had nightmares he doesn't remember them, which as far as he's concerned means they didn't happen, or at least certainly don't count if they did. He's kind of cold and his belt is digging into his stomach, and he turns onto his back, and looks at the ceiling, and it just—it doesn't feel like he thought it would. Dad's face, grey beard and a shorter haircut than he remembers. He must have trimmed it up sometime while Sam was away at Stanford, let it grow out again. What a strange, jagged kind of relief to think of him and see the man from yesterday, rather than the one on the hospital floor. The pearl didn't change a thing, except for the things that it did.

Cas is still hanging around when Sam comes out to make coffee. He looks the same as he always does. "Dean up?" Sam says, like that's even a possibility, and Castiel to his credit does huff. Too much time around people, he's learned humor.

"What will you do now?" Cas says. He follows Sam into the kitchen, waits while Sam does his boring, ordinary human chores. "We still need to find a way to safely remove Michael from Dean's body."

"I know," Sam says. Like it's not what he's thinking about, every time he's awake. Like looking into Dean's eyes doesn't make his back tingle with anticipatory terror. He flicks the switches on the coffee machine and stands over it while it starts to hiss and bubble, heating up. His head hurts.

In his pocket, his phone alarm goes off, and he shuts off the sound through his jeans and takes a deep breath. They didn't have any plans, today, before everything got derailed. Just cataloging all of those strange artifacts, stolen from who knows how many hunters and collectors and witches throughout the years. How many people had to die for them, he wonders. Ghosts, clinging in every corner to a past that can't be left behind.

The coffeemaker starts dribbling and Sam swaps the pot for one of the mugs, speeding up the process of getting into his veins. "Cas," he says, and has to pause for a second. He watches the level on the mug rise and Cas is patient, waiting. "I don't, uh. I don't think we're going to—work on that, today." Silence, again. Sam picks up the mug when it's full and swaps the pot back in, only loses a couple of sizzling drips to the burner. When he turns around Cas looks sympathetic, as much as he can be, and Sam sits down at the kitchen table. His shoulders hurt, for some reason.

"I'll go and meet Jack," Cas says, after a minute. "He is with Maggie, I believe. I can help them finish the hunt they're on and then we will return to the bunker. It may take a few days."

Sam bites the inside of his cheek, nods. Sometimes, Cas is a really good friend. They don't reciprocate enough.

Another two hours, before Dean emerges. Sam's taken a shower, and two aspirin. The dusty shards of the pearl have been burned. He's waiting in the kitchen when Dean comes in, brutal shadows under his eyes. Looks like he hasn't slept at all. He looks at Sam and then away, and says, "Sleep well?" Like a joke.

"Kind of," Sam says, honest. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Dean says back. He pours his own mug and then comes and sits down across from Sam, sinking down slow like an old man. His elbows on the table, his shoulders popped high around his ears, defensive enough to shield him from a blow. They do keep coming. He just holds the mug in both hands, looking down into it without drinking. "Guess everyone's gone."

"Just you and me," Sam agrees, quiet to match Dean's voice. Dean nods, rubs his thumb around the mug's red rim. There are lines around his eyes that seem new, to Sam, though of course they must have crept up without him noticing. A little grey in his hair, though not as much as there is in Sam's, as Dean has been fond of pointing out the last few years. He still has those freckles on his knuckles, and in the fine shell of his ears, and his eyes are—the same. Almost the same. What's changed is what's behind them.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sam says, and Dean flicks a look up to him, his eyes narrowing just a touch. Sam takes a deep breath but—just then, he can't ask, not really. He drains his coffee, instead, and puts the mug down. "Do you want to—let's go. Let's get out, go for a drive."

"Roadtrip?" Dean says, frowning. "I ain't taking you to Wally World, you're too tall for the rides."

Sam knocks his knee into Dean's, under the table. "Come on. I need to stretch my legs. We can do the cataloging when we get back."

"You can do the cataloging," Dean says, but he looks into Sam's eyes, and licks his lips, and then nods. Sam's shoulders relax, somehow. He didn't even know he was holding the tension.

They have to get gas first, at the co-op in town. Nothing's different there. Proof, if they needed it, that things went back to the way they were. Dean points them west and Sam settles back into his seat, and lines up the first four Zeppelin albums to take them through the cold empty farms, and then the bare land, and the little inconsequential towns all the way along 36 across the north edge of Kansas. Around Going to California they stop in Idalia, Colorado, for gas and food. It's almost smaller than Lebanon, but they've got a bar and a real restaurant, so it practically counts as urban comparatively.

Two beers, two burgers. They sit by the window, the matronly waitress reading a book at the register and ignoring them, and Dean picks up his beer and holds it out for Sam to click his bottle against, and then takes a long, deep swallow. Sam watches him, for a few seconds, before he sips at his own. Lunch on the road, some town they've never been to and probably won't ever be through again, unless something very bad starts happening to the folks who live here. What does it say about the kind of people they are, that this is their comfort place.

"What did you and Dad talk about?" he says. Away from the golden light of the bunker, it feels easier to ask. Dean puts his burger down, swallows his bite. Sam shrugs at the look Dean gives him. "You know, I was thinking. You aren't that much younger now than he was then."

"You calling me old?" Dean says, and Sam smiles at him, just to be annoying. Dean rolls his eyes, wipes his mouth with the paper napkin. "Yeah, funny." He licks his lips, bites them between his teeth, and Sam feels his smile get smaller. "Nothing, really. I mean, what—we got him caught up, and then Mom was there, and there wasn't—it wouldn't have mattered. The stuff I—"

He shakes his head, takes another swallow of beer. Another customer comes in and the waitress bustles up, gets them menus. Little patter under the soft-rock station playing. "He wanted to talk to me," Sam says. Dean's eyes jump up to his and Sam laughs, sort of. "Yeah, I don't know. First time for everything, I guess." Dean snorts, and sits back in his chair, crumpling the napkin restlessly in his free hand. He's watching Sam, though, really listening, and Sam doesn't know how to say it. How something tangled up, some old weird wound, has eased. "Do you think we made the right call?" he says, instead. Dean frowns. "I know, we—but isn't it… I don't know. Selfish?"

Dean doesn't take any time to think about it. "Maybe. Yeah." Sam raises his eyebrows and Dean taps his knuckles on the linoleum table. "Do I wish Dad could be alive, that him and Mom could be together? That we could have—whatever, Sunday lunch every week, back in Lawrence? 'Course I do." He leans forward, suddenly, over the table, and his eyes slide away from Sam's, down to his chest. "But there's some deals, some wishes, the trade-off isn't worth it."

Sam chews the inside of his lip. He nods, and Dean nods too, and stands up abruptly to pay the bill. The waitress dimples at him, round-faced and cheery, and Sam sits back and watches him. His hands. The corner of smile as he flirts absently with the waitress, second-nature kindness.

They pile into the car and drive again. Pointed a little more north this time, and Sam still doesn't know where Dean's headed but it doesn't really matter. The sun's coming in the windows, warm on his right shoulder. He slouches down, spreads his knees out wide so he still sort of fits, watches the road slide past through the windshield. Dean's steering with two fingers, his other arm stretched out over the back of the seat. They're on Houses of the Holy now and Sam sighs reflexively when The Crunge comes on—it was Dean's favorite song for about two months when Sam was fifteen and he's heard it enough times to want to go back in time and kill Robert Plant—and Dean tugs his hair, tweaks hard enough that Sam flinches. He's smiling, though, when Sam looks over, and Sam just shoves at his side through his jacket, grinning too.

Dean wouldn't have gone to hell. Sam wouldn't have followed. There would've been no Ruby, encouraging all his worst impulses until he let out Lucifer. There would've been no Lucifer, and later no Castiel wrecking Heaven, and no Leviathan or Purgatory, and no long year of aching absence, no girl in Kermit. No dog. No nephilim. No furious, other-world archangel, taking what he wanted by manipulation and by force, and no ticking time-bomb sitting somewhere around Dean's heart, ready to wipe him out and take him from Sam, some morning when Sam will wake up and find his world destroyed. But, if Sam was right about how time would have corrected itself, then Dean would have been somewhere else, anyway. Would've been someone else. Sam would have been some person he didn't want to recognize. Not a possibility Dean was willing to consider, not for a minute. Sam puts his knuckles to his lips and listens to the hum of the Impala beneath him, around him, and the track runs out on the song and Dean flips the tape, and it's side two, track one: Dancing Days. Sam's always liked this one better.

Jackson Lake. They get there late afternoon, and it's cold as hell still so no one sane is out camping. They stop at a liquor store and get a twelve-pack and a fifth, and then Dean swings through a KFC drive-through for a bucket and cups of the radioactive mashed potatoes—"Shut up," he says, "they're delicious and you know it"—and then they drive out into the park, through the dead grass, the bare trees in between the faithful evergreens. They eat sitting on the hood, looking out at the lake in the dwindling day, and then Dean hauls the cooler out for easy access on the grass and they sit with their shoulders and elbows bumping, drinking companionably in the cold.

Dean's taking nips of the whiskey, in between beers. Sam flicks his fingers and Dean hands it over, leaning in against Sam's shoulder, and a swallow goes down hot—ah, ow—but it sits warmly in his belly once he's through the grimacing stage. He hands it back to Dean and Dean takes it, and rests it on his thigh, and then he says, looking down at the bottle, "What about you?"

Like it's a conversation they've been having for hours. Sam hums, and Dean breathes out a long dragon-smoke breath, hanging in the air. "Do you wish we'd—" He cuts himself off, shakes his head, impatient. "Guess it doesn't matter. We already decided, huh? Little late to be second-guessing, even if he'd agreed to stay."

"Yeah," Sam says. He sits there, Dean's warmth solid all against his side. He hopes Dean doesn't feel too awful about it, when Sam feels… He swallows. "Hey, Dean?"

Dean looks at him, sidelong. Sam sucks in one cheek. In the sunset, a lot of the details of his face are blurred away. The fine lines disappear; the deep ones are deeper. His eyes aren't any color but dull gold and his mouth is a flat line, his lips bitten between his teeth. Sam stands up, takes a few steps away toward the shore. His chest feels tight. "Sammy," Dean says, soft, and Sam runs his hand through his hair, scrubs at the back of his head.

"I'm glad we are who we are," Sam says, out at the lake. "Even with—everything. Selfish or not."

A touch to the small of his back, and he turns, and Dean's there, and he pulls at Sam's shoulders and they're hugging, like that. He bends his head down like he always does, his cold nose against Dean's neck, Dean's hands gripping at his shoulder, low on his back. He slides his hands up Dean's spine and sighs, settles in.

Dean's thumb drags against his shoulder, and he shifts his weight, his thigh pushing against Sam's. Sam slides his hands back down, holding the small of Dean's back, breathes in his smell. Familiar, even through the fast-food grease, and the car. Dean's head turns, and his mouth brushes Sam's neck. The still-lingering warmth in Sam's belly takes a deeper turn.

A breath, and two. Sam pulls back an inch but keeps his hands where they are, and Dean's head drops down to Sam's chest, his shoulders moving as he shakily pulls in air. A moment of hung stillness and Sam drags up an arm, puts his hand on the back of Dean's neck with his thumb brushing the soft edge of his hair, and Dean picks up his head, looks Sam in the eye. Swallows, visibly, but the pinking edge of the sunset doesn't hide the flush in his cheeks, nor the curl of his fingers against Sam's waist. Sam opens his mouth and then thinks, dizzily, that—if ever there were a time that words weren't required, this might be it. They're pressed together, knees and hips, chests, their hands on each other, and no matter the strangeness, the swoop in his gut that feels like danger, he's holding Dean's eyes and he isn't pulling away. He licks his lips and Dean's eyelashes flicker, not quite a blink, and Sam ducks his head, leans in. Their foreheads touch, and his nose brushes Dean's cheek. Cold air between them displaced by the warmth of their mingling breath, and enough space still to pretend they could wedge a crowbar into it and pull away—only Dean's hand creeps up and fists into Sam's flannel, in the middle of his chest, and Sam dips that last inch and presses their lips together.

Warm, is the first stupid thing he thinks. Warm, and so soft, and then Dean's mouth moves against his and there's the brush of stubble against his chin and the world snaps back into place. Dean, Dean—his brother, and he kisses him like he means it, then, tipping for a better angle, sliding his hand up to cup the back of Dean's head, his lips and skin prickling with all the blood that's rushing to his face. No tongue, just the soft wet moving of their mouths together, a buzzing inside Sam's skull like alarm sirens only—only it feels nothing but good, nothing but a strange kind of at last when he'd never, never really—

Dean tugs back, abrupt, and Sam opens his eyes—when did he close them?—to find Dean blinking at him, panic and a faint tremble to his bottom lip. Sam shakes his head, grips Dean's shoulder, and Dean frowns at him but his eyes drop to Sam's mouth, too. His hand comes up, touches Sam's jaw, pets over the side of his head and tucks his hair behind his ear, and an immediate shudder crawls up Sam's spine, shivering out across his skin in a teeth rattling second. Dean turns his face away, eyes scrunching shut like something that's almost pain, and Sam noses against his temple, breathes against his cheek, clutches at his arm—and Dean breathes out and turns back and Sam can kiss him again, catches the beautiful soft curve of his lower lip and then presses him open, licks careful inside, and Dean grips him tight by the waist and opens up, a whine on the edge of the breath he gives up, his hips pressing in against Sam's, and—oh, the curl in Sam's belly gets deeper, stronger. Fuck, he wants—intensely, all of a sudden, like he hasn't wanted anyone in years, in a decade.

He slides his hands down, gets his fingers under jacket, shirt, shirt, to bare warm skin, the smooth plane of Dean's side, his back. He's touched this skin before but not like this, not—knowing, in this new way that's making it hard to keep breathing, keep thinking. Dean's touching him, too, faint points of pressure, on his back, his chest, his stomach, resting there just below Sam's navel, and he scrapes his teeth over Dean's lower lip and then whispers, barely able to voice it—it's okay—and Dean huffs a laugh and says, head tipped down, "I don't know if that's true, Sam."

Rough, uncompromising, but his fingers are still there on Sam's stomach and Sam catches them, curls them together. He leans his temple against Dean's, pushes Dean's hand under his layered shirts, and his skin flinches at first from the cold touch but Dean's hand flattens against his abs, pressed down underneath Sam's. He doesn't—this isn't something he ever thought could happen, would happen. Distant dreams, maybe, the odd jumbling of acquaintance the sleeping brain gropes for; he'd never, ever considered, in the real world, that maybe, one day—

Dean's fingers curl against his belly and he looks up, meets Sam's eyes. There's a bubbling unreality fizzing through Sam's chest but he keeps getting shocked into the concrete, meaty consequence, here. He drags his thumb over Dean's jaw and Dean turns his face away, like it's a bruise Sam's trying to check, but when Sam curls his fingers under he comes back, he turns and lets Sam look at him, straight on. He licks his lips and Sam brushes over the wet left behind there, and Dean's eyes close, and they scrunch shut when Sam fumbles his hand around and brushes the front of Dean's jeans, where—yeah. Yeah, he's hard, or getting there. From this, from them. "Is it bad," Sam starts, pushing his fingers down. God, it's warm. He clears his throat, tries again. "Is it bad if I don't care. I don't care if it's okay."

Dean's mouth has parted, wet. His fingers drag from Sam's stomach to his side, pulling him in. "I don't know," he says, on a breath, and then swallows wet enough to hear it, and then he says, huffing in Sam's face, "Shit, someone could—see us."

There's no one out, not with the sun nearly gone, not with it being barely above freezing out here. "Yeah," Sam says, though, and: "Back seat, come on," and Dean's eyelids slit slow enough that he could be drunk, and he follows Sam's hand on his arm, on his wrist, and they're both too big—god, Sam barely fits back here alone, when he's sleeping—but he scoots in backwards and Dean gets in beside him, closes the door so as to keep the cold out at least a little, and then Sam drags him in and kisses him, hard and real, Dean's hands going into his hair, crushed together in the backseat with Sam's arms around him, feeling him heavy, solid, a weight Sam knows in every particular.

He slides his hand down, palms Dean again, and Dean mutters fuck into his mouth, so startled-hot that Sam's own dick throbs. Tug at Dean's belt and Dean groans, and then says, "Okay, okay," and he reaches down and starts opening up his pants himself, says, "You, too," and Sam blinks and stares at him and then works as fast as he can, unbuckling and unzipping, his dick swelling up the front of his boxer-briefs, and Dean shakes his head, panicky looking again, and Sam slides down on the seat and says, "C'mere," and holds out his hand, and Dean curses inexplicably but he takes Sam's hand and swings a leg over, hits his head on the ceiling immediately. "Ow," he says, and Sam laughs kinda breathless, and Dean rubs his head and says, "Screw you, Giganto, this shit was your idea," and Sam leans up as much as he can under Dean's weight and says, "I know, I know it was, come here," and Dean meets him and kisses him again, and there between them—in the split of Dean's fly there's his dick, thick in his boxers, and Sam puts both hands to Dean's chest under his shirt and rubs over his nipples, his stomach, and then over the warm stiff pole through the cotton, catches Dean's explosion of a groan in his mouth, grips awkward, as best he can, and Dean's lips smear fat and hot over his cheek as he drags away and he whispers soft jesus, Sammy, jesus, and sweaty-warm fingers peel down Sam's briefs and grab him two-handed where he's already blindingly hard. Oh, god.

Dean shifts, hits his head on the roof again, but he sits back a little with his knees tucked tight around Sam's hips, his thighs curving warm against Sam's, and they have enough space between them like that so they can move, their hands working. Dean's grip is wrong, a little too soft, but he tightens it up when Sam squeezes him, and Dean's leaking so much that Sam doesn't need a thing—god, to know that Dean gets wet like that, Sam's face is flushing up so high and bright that if they could see a damn thing back here he's sure Dean would be ragging him. Big brother, always looking for an in, and Sam's stomach rolls oddly but—but it's so good, still. He tips his face up and Dean kisses him, like it's instinct, and he picks up Dean's hand and breaks away from his mouth enough to lick his palm, sloppy-wet and hot, and he drags it back to his own dick and Dean groans and says, "Fuck, I knew you'd be a control freak," but he says it like how he used to talk to the girls Sam would hear him bring home when they were kids, a moan laced through his voice, and he squeezes Sam and jerks him right, finally, and Sam plays his fingers over the head of Dean's dick and reaches down and brushes his balls in a gentle question and feels Dean jerk from what feels like his spine, and then he settles down and grabs him warm and tight and does what feels right, his arm around Dean's shoulders, their mouths bumping and glancing against each other, and Dean's thighs squeeze around him and Sam's imagination is rocked by images he—he doesn't even know how to deal with, thoughts and insane wanting that feel like they're peeling out of some distant id he didn't know he had, and too soon he feels his stomach clamping and he feels himself swell, his balls tight, his toes curling in his boots, and then he's shooting, slicking up Dean's hand, and he drags Dean in closer, makes Dean cuss and squirm but he wants the weight, squeezes Dean's ass just to feel it, oh—fuck, it feels so damn good. Dean breathes in his face, shocked, his hand slow and barely moving when Sam could, oh, he could take more—but even if his bones feel like they're melting out of his ears they're not done. He licks his lips, tries to get his shit together, and then he wipes through the mess and grabs up Dean's dick again, starts jerking him fast, slick and hard and uncompromising. "Oh," Dean says, clear, and then he curls forward, lifting up on his knees a little, his elbow on the seat, his face tucked next to Sam's. Sam kisses what he can, his jaw and his neck, breathes the sweaty good smell of him up in the curve of his shoulder, and then he—he lets go, he shifts his grip to Dean's hips and drags him in so close that his dick is rubbing wet all over Sam's belly and he says soft and quick come on and Dean humps at him, dragging through the hair and hard against Sam's own muscle, and Sam pushes back and holds Dean's ass and Dean comes quick and spurting, up against Sam's skin and into his shirt, fuck, so hot Sam's dick twitches and his balls clutch, wishing they could do more.

Dean shakes, after he comes. Sam never knew that. Muscle and skin, quivering shudders, and Sam gets his hands under Dean's shirt and strokes in long pulls, feeling his back, down to his ass again, rubbing over his thighs. A deep breath, that comes out stuttered, and Dean's clean hand comes and lifts up Sam's jaw and kisses him again. Different, this time. Slow, terribly soft. Sam doesn't take over like he would with most other people—like he has already, with Dean—just lets Dean lick at his mouth and tug as his lips, and it's plush as velvet. He thinks he knows why the girls Dean leaves in the morning are always so pleased, even if they have to watch him go.

Sam doesn't have to, though. Their lips part, and he licks his lips, feels them buzz gently with overwork. They've agreed. No matter what comes, no matter what insanity or second chances or other lives, or death. Dean pushes back, as much as he can before his head's brushing the roof, and Sam can basically only see the shine of his eyes and his lips in the last traces of light from where the sun's streaked the dome of the sky to violet. He wonders what Dean's thinking.

"My knees are killing me," Dean says. Sam snorts and Dean socks him lightly in the shoulder. "I don't want to hear a single age joke."

"My lips are sealed," Sam says, and helps Dean lift off, shuffling out of the way enough that he can plop down to the seat. Some joint does crack, like a gunshot, and Dean groans when he stretches his legs out into the footwell. Sam smiles. "Feel better?"

"That might've been better than sex," Dean says, and it's sort of light except for the way he tips his head over, and looks at Sam.

Sam's grimy, sweating into his jacket, his dick smeared and gross and Dean's come all over his stomach. He doesn't care. He leans his head onto the seat back and slips his hand over Dean's thigh, high, feeling it flex up against him. "Thanks a lot," he says, dry, and sees the gleam of Dean's teeth, if only for a second.

"Sammy," Dean says. Like it's the start of something, only he doesn't keep talking. He touches the back of Sam's hand, light, and looks away.

Sam's had sex that was wrong, that he knew even in the moment was wrong. Queasy-making, where he wishes he could wash out the inside of his skin. This isn't that. It should be, and it's not.

"There's so much—" He pauses, tries to think it through. Dean waits for him. "I didn't know. Did you?"

Dean sighs, and drags his hand over his mouth. "No. Or, not—not like, like that."

"Do you feel worse than you did this morning?" Sam says.

A huff, and Dean's hand settles on the back of Sam's, fully. Squeezing. "No. Not even close. Who knew, right. Fucking my kid brother, like a damn aspirin."

Edge of acid, there, even if his hand's warm and gripping. Sam sits up a little, puts his elbow on the back of the seat, leans in. "Don't," he says, soft, and Dean's eyelashes move in the dark. He dips in and they kiss, easy again, and Dean's mouth moves with his, his fingers curling against Sam's. "These are the people we are," he says. Close against Dean as he is, it feels like a secret between them, something no angel can hear. "All those choices, everything. Right? All of that got us here. I don't regret it, do you?"

He knows the answer before Dean says it, but it still feels good to hear. "You know I don't," Dean says, on a sigh.

"All right, then," Sam says, and Dean shivers for some reason, but he nods too. Sam drops back against the seat. He's sweating like he just ran a mile and the air in here—oh. He laughs. "Foggy night?"

The windows are all steamed. Dean shoves his knee into Sam's. "This is your fault," he says, grumbly. "Like a freakin' lookout point in high school."

"I'm not the one who chose the scenic location, you dork," Sam says, and wrestles off his jacket, and then his flannel shirt so he can use it to mop up his lap, his tender dick. He tucks himself away, and offers the shirt to Dean so he can do the same. Dean mutters something, about the laundry for some reason, and Sam feels something flickering cautiously in his chest. Hope, maybe. Something that's been in short supply, lately.

He lets Dean zip up and then he ducks in and kisses him again, just quick, testing. It feels good. Dean's hand finds the side of his neck, his thumb against Sam's jaw. "You want to sleep here tonight?" Dean says. Not a come-on, but there's a warmth to it.

Sam shakes his head. "Let's go, find a motel." He grins, thinking of it. "Hey, what are you going to say when they ask you what kind of room?"

Dean makes a disgusted noise and pushes his face away, unlatching his door. "What, you think I'm springing for the honeymoon suite?" he says, and Sam snickers, watches him get out. He gets out too, goes around to grab the cooler, the fifth they abandoned in the dead grass. "You put out once, dude, that's not honeymoon material."

Sam stretches, reaching up to the emerging stars. In just his undershirt the air prickles chilly against his arms. When he shakes his hands and finishes cracking his neck, Dean's watching him, his arms folded over the top of the car. Voice is light but his expression isn't, and Sam smiles, shrugging. "You wined and dined me, what can I say," he says, and puts his hand on the cool metal of the car. "And you made me a promise. Right?"

Dean taps his fingers on the roof, a slow rhythm. "And I'm never gonna hear the end of it," he says, but he says it like it's another promise. He looks off, out at the horizon past the lake and the trees, where smeary orange is now all that's left of the day. It's quiet, no insects chirping, no birds. Just the soft sounds of the lake, and their own breathing. Sam looks at Dean. There's always another sunset.

#wincest #spn fic #14.13 lebanon #my writing

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almaasi · 6 years

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Understanding Your Body in Ten Easy Steps · 12.2k · NC-17

All Dean has to do is track down a decent porno for Cas to watch, help him find his sensitive spots, then hang back and let him do his thing. Easy-peasy. No homo. …Absolutely no homo at all.

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Welcome All Winchesters · 60.2k · NC-17

When Dean’s engagement breaks off three days before Christmas, he’s left with nobody to accompany him on a road trip to his family’s mountain log cabin. His best friend Castiel happens to be available, and is willing to help him through a tough time. But when Dean’s mother and brother arrive, expecting to meet the person Dean plans to marry, they understandably assume Castiel is Dean’s fiancé. After a weekend of comfortable domesticity, sharing clothes, intimate conversations, and definitely-one-time-only therapy sex, it feels almost too easy for Dean and Cas to fake a loving, romantic relationship. The hard part is going back to being friends afterwards. They can’t keep their hands off each other, and they’ve discovered some fun things to do together which they’d never tell another soul about. And, oh boy, feelings. Now being ‘just friends’ is so impossible, it seems as if fate had another plan for them all along…

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Snow Place Like Home (But My Home Is With You) · 47.8k · NC-17

It’s Christmas Eve, and Dean, Sam and Castiel are snowed into a small town with a big festive spirit. They splurge on a fancy room in a B&B – hey, they deserve a treat. There’s a tiny plastic tree and a working TV, so they could perhaps overlook the lack of hot water and Dean having to bunk with Sam. Sleeping arrangements soon reach a happier equilibrium: Dean’s just cuddling Cas to keep him warm, he swears – the tingly feeling means nothing! Christmas Day arrives, and Cas still doesn’t have a gift for Dean. Dean doesn’t know what to give Cas, either. Sam has a few ideas, but will the other two truly understand what he means?

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Love Him in His Sleep (Love Him Always) · 32.7k · NC-17

After Cas banishes Dean’s nightmares, Dean starts to have wet dreams… about being cuddled. When he wakes, he’s sticky and aroused - and he loves it. Oh, he loves it a lot. Castiel, meanwhile, is struggling with his own descent into the murky waters of human morality. How is he supposed to explore all these new lustful feelings if Dean insists on keeping him at arm’s length?

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Cowboys and Real Estate Angels · 36.8k · NC-17

Castiel crosses paths with the ever-charming Dean Winchester at a rodeo show in Texas, of all places. Dean’s singing days are long bygone, but his crowd-pleasing skills haven’t waned one iota. Unexpectedly, Castiel finds himself in Dean’s bedroom; they take and they give, and discover that sometimes strangers can find love like this, too. (And if a man’s faith can’t be put in God, it needs to go somewhere…)

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Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted · 58.4k · NC-17

On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Mr. Castiel Quinn discovers that one of his young students has smuggled male pornography into the classroom. Upon being told that the photos belong to the boy’s uncle, Castiel vows to himself that he will keep the other man’s preferences a secret. It’s 1947; a man experiencing attraction to another man or fantasising about his sexual touch are transgressive faults, which could potentially result in imprisonment - or worse. But then the uncle walks in. The photos are of him: Dean Winchester, a rogue with an empty pocket and a child to feed. Castiel doesn’t know it yet, but his life is never going to be the same again. Years pass between chance meetings, but even though they live their lives apart, Dean and Castiel’s story is proof that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.

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Angelhawke · 407k · NC-17

A Dean/Cas Fantasy-Drama AU, set in a medieval world where two men are separated by a curse: every sunrise and sunset, both are eternally bound to transform into animals. Every night when darkness falls, Dean Winchester becomes a wolf, and his human mind is lost until the dawn. As the sun rises, his lover Castiel becomes a hawk. Their story has been the same for five years - until the day that a young thief named Sam stumbles into their twisted lives. Without even realising it, he becomes a part of their destiny, their paths entwined in prophecy and fate. Together with a few old friends, they set off on a journey to break the curse, but it won’t be easy. To pass the time, Dean and Castiel take turns to recount their past to Sam, narrating the tale of how they met, how they formed their profound bond, and how they found themselves wanting what no man should ever want: the touch of another man.

‘Angelhawke’ is a saga of forbidden love, friendship, and magic - but above all, family. Partially based on the 1985 movie ‘Ladyhawke’.

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Sharing the Rain Dog · 19.8k · M

When some asshole hits a dog with his car and drives off, the first two people on the scene are Dean and Castiel. Castiel’s an FBI agent with a plane to catch, and he doesn’t have time to take the dog to the vet. Dean’s a musician, and he doesn’t have the money. An agreement is reached: Dean goes, Castiel pays, and they’ll exchange details and meet again to work things out. But who gets the dog? Sooner or later they’re going to realise that having shared custody of one pitbull isn’t ideal. She needs one home, not two. One stable, loving home…

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Our Garden Home · 36.3k · G

Flower fairy Dean has caught a thief in his trap. As it turns out, it wasn’t a mouse stealing his food. It was Castiel: a hissy, bitey bat sprite with one wing and a forlorn, lonely heart. Dean offers a warm space in his nest, where Castiel can stay until Springtime comes around again. However, Castiel becomes more than just a guest. With a little effort, he helps make Dean’s nest a home.

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diminuel · 6 years

Text

Fic Reading List: January

I’ve done this before, but I thought I’d try to keep track of the fics I’m reading and share them with you too. I added little notes after the summary. There are all types of genres, from canon to A/B/O.

I’ve added the archive warnings in the brackets in case there were any, but didn’t include the tags. So make sure to read them.

Enjoy! ♥

I Wished for This by Piper_Halliwell1979 (Mature, 3.5k)

After the decision is made for Heaven to repopulate, Castiel is excluded from selective pairing. Since his biology will be affected anyway, he and Dean discuss the possibility of having a biological child of their own.

Post S13 mpreg. One-shot, with a calm and fluffy atmosphere.

Family by Piper_Halliwell1979 (Mature, 5.5k)

After a one night stand Castiel finds himself pregnant by Dean. After some miscommunication they come together to bring a new Winchester into the world.

Not season specific canon compliant story. A lovely story about an unexpected pregnancy and how it makes everything else fall into place.

How to Romance a Human by cloudyjenn (4k)

Based on a prompt from moonlettuce for the Renegade Angels challenge. The prompt was "Castiel tries to woo Dean using a Cosmo article entitled 20 ways to get your man."

S5 is canon compliant story. An immensely amusing fic.

A Song of Wind and Wings by triedunture (Explicit, 10k)

The Angelborn have not been seen in Westeros in hundreds of years. Lord Dean Winchester and his brother Ser Sam arrive in Lady Ellen's Highroad Keep after receiving word that one has been taken captive.

A lovely one shot that borrows from Game of Thrones, but it’s easy to read it as a wonderful fantasy AU without any knowledge of GoT! Also features some wing care~

Untitled by jinxedambitions (Explicit)

Castiel woke in an unfamiliar bed with the aches and pains of a night spent debauching.

A nsfw one shot where Cas wakes up in a Dean’s bed and can’t remember the sex they had. So Dean decides they should do it again.

Long Exposure by Rosewhipped (Explicit, Rape/ Non-Con, 107k, WIP)

When Dean kicks Castiel out of the bunker, they have no contact for months. Once the Gadreel/Ezekiel situation is finally resolved, Dean tries to reach out, but cannot get in touch with Cas. To his horror, he soon discovers his friend has been in trouble for a long time. Dark Fic.

Still a WIP, but it’s really long and it’s a wonderful hurt!Cas story. I’ve read it twice now and it’s been a delight both times!

Timer by galaxystiel (2.1k)

Dean doesn't have a soulmate, but if he did, he swears it would be Castiel Novak.

Cute soulmate AU one-shot with a dash of angst!

To Build On Ruins by SillyBlue (18.8k)

When Dean comes of age, he's presented with a choice that is supposed to keep the Winchester pack strong and unified: exile or submission. With war having recently ended and the winter being bitter and dangerous for a young exiled alpha, Dean doesn't really have a choice but to submit. But less than four years later Sam is presented with the same impossible question and Dean's forced to act.

Dean-centric, gen story.

You Send Me by thelonelywriter (26k)

Some months go by of Dean and Cas living together without a hitch.

Some months go by of Cas and Dean living together without Cas' heats being an issue.

And some more months go by before something shifts.

It takes awhile, but Dean realizes soon enough that he's in a little too deep...

Lovely a/b/o, friends with benefits/ room mates to real mates story!

The Unclean by TheIttyBitty (Mature, 53k)

Dean should know by now to expect the worst when his brother calls him in the middle of the night with words like, we have a situation on his tongue. Still, he's more than a little surprised when Sam asks him to take in a young man recently rescued from a cult.

Castiel - malnourished, abused, and afraid - might be more than Dean can handle, but someone's got to do it. Dean searches and finds a bright, loving man buried under those years of abuse, and he'll do just about anything to help Castiel feel whole again.

This is a hurt!Cas story that focuses on the healing afterwards! Also, Dean’s a witch, but the good kind.

What Once Was Sacred by saltandbyrne (Explicit, 55k)

Los Angeles detective Dean Winchester works tirelessly to atone for the sins of his father one case at a time. When his best friend Charlie drags him to visit Sam at his new job, Dean stumbles onto a bizarre string of deaths that brings him uncomfortably close to his past.

Dean can't stop thinking about Castiel, an enigmatic DJ who plays the sexiest music Dean's ever heard. A chance encounter at Castiel's house reveals that Castiel is an incubus, and Dean must face the lies and the reality of his childhood as a hunter. Dean comes to see that he and Castiel have more in common than he thought, and that guilt can be the hardest thing to cast aside.

What I loved a lot about this story was that even though Dean had been hunting as a child, Dean convinced himself that his father had just been delusional. It’s also got great scenes scenes and an interesting plot!

Daughter of a Killer by xHaruka17x (Explicit, Violence, Rape/Non-con, 8.2k)

Her Father was a Killer. But she wanted to know why and Papa wouldn't tell her.

Dean was in prison for 16 years and this is set after he is released. It focuses on his daughter (who never met him) finding out what exactly has happened.

No Vacancy by 60r3d0m (Explicit, 2.8k)

The shower water’s ice cold but the sweat and grime on his body is enough to make him stay.

For a long time, he holds Dean’s borrowed shorts in his hands. He turns them over, feels the fabric worn soft with age. They’re favoured shorts. Slept in often because they’re comfortable and loved and maybe echo of home.

Something that Cas doesn’t have.

After the Rit Zien attacks Cas at Nora's house, Dean takes him to his motel room to treat his injuries. He ends up staying the night.

(or in other words, the very famous fanfiction gap of 9.06 Heaven Can't Wait)

I can’t get enough of fics who address 9x06, but if you’re looking for something that fixes it? This fic isn’t it, this fic attacks your emotions. Just the kind of pain I enjoy!

He Can't Sleep by 60r3d0m (mature, 18.9k)

“I wish I could stand,” Cas says.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

Cas holds up his hand, flexes it, stares and then drops it.

“This weakness is unsettling. I can’t—I can’t even hold a pitcher of water, Dean.”

Dean makes a small sound in his throat, a non-committal hum.

He’s done soaping up Cas’ hair. He grabs the sponge at his side and starts to scrub at Cas’ skin, up along his arms, his neck, down his chest. When he runs it up his legs, to his thighs, Cas shudders and then there’s a hand cupping Dean’s cheek, cold and dripping water and soap, and Dean falters, looks at him for the first time.

“Will you sleep with me?” Cas says. “Tonight?”

Dean swallows.

He says yes.

After Lucifer's possession, Castiel stops talking.

This story spans a couple of years and gives me the worst case of second-hand pining ever. All the time Dean and Cas lost to silence...! So sad! But with a happy ending.

Sunrise, once more by 60r3d0m (Mature, 3.2k)

It’s the sun rising. It’s what he thinks as he’s walking back to the cabin, where Jack and Sam will pretend that his eyes aren’t swollen red, where they’ll pretend that they didn’t see him cry as hard as he did. But the great light that comes from behind him isn’t that. The fire that ignites from the heart of the pyre isn’t the goddamn sun.

It’s Cas.

(fix-it coda for 13.01 where Cas comes back because I miss him)

Very sad at first, but then fixes everything! ;w; I also like Jack in this one. (Attention for Dean’s suicide attempt. It’s not explicit and very short, but he drives the car into a pole. Jack fixes him up.)

Rain, Rain, Go Away by angvlicmish (Explicit, 3.5k)

Cas and Dean are in love but when they’re caught by Cas’ mother Naomi she accuses Dean of rape and lands him in jail. When he is let out for insufficient evidence a few years later he has trouble adjusting and finding work. He leaves town and goes under several different alias to try and start a new life. Cas is determined to find him to apologise and when he does find Dean he continues to pursue him even though Dean is still mad at Cas for not standing up for him.

The fic is slightly different from the summary, which was the original prompt for the story. It’s a sad story, but one with a hopeful ending. Attention: for mentions of Cas harming himself and wanting to commit suicide.

A Winter’s Tale by NorthernSparrow (64k)

Summary: Set in mid S9. Cas is sick and Dean finds a journal that Cas kept about his time alone as a human. Retelling of first half of S9 from Cas’s POV. Sick fic, hurt/comfort, journal fic. Lots of Cas angst/loneliness and a correspondingly equal volume of Dean guilt. Holiday fic too - covers Cas’s Thanksgiving and ends with Christmas.

Canon compliant hurt!Cas story that never fails to wound me and comfort me at the same time.

Spontaneous combustion by KoshiSekisen (18.4k)

Summary: “So you’re saying,” Sam repeated, his eyebrows arched high in disbelief, a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. “Janine just…”

“She… poofed,” Sheriff Emily Burke insisted, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

An interesting case fic. It’s gen and it’s got some nice hurt!Cas~

Rutnam Shore by mnwood (21k)

Summary: Dean Winchester has never been past the city limits of the sleepy town of Rutnam Shore. Except in his dreams, where he travels the country in a classic car and fights mythical beings with his little brother. It's the only time he gets to see his brother, since Sam died in a car crash when they were kids. Dean wants nothing more than to get as far away from Rutnam Shore as he can, but unfortunately he's afraid of driving and feels like he's stuck.

I can’t say too much about the story without spoiling a major plot point! It’s interesting and satisfying to read! It focuses almost exclusively on Dean and him trying to figure our just what exactly is going on.

#Supernatural #Destiel #reading list #fic rec

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