#DeanCas fic

[supernaturallyafreak]

Peanut Butter Bunker || February 5, 2025

By Haden: @Supernaturallyafreak || #Destiel

Dean sat in the library, leaning back in one of the creaky office chairs, a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich in his hand and another one sitting on the table in front of him. He’d been thumbing through a lore book, but his attention kept drifting to Castiel, who was pacing nearby with his usual quiet intensity.

Castiel stopped, tilting his head as if considering something deeply. “Dean,” he began, his voice calm but curious, “why do humans often sit on each other’s laps? I’ve seen it depicted in your television shows, often in moments of intimacy or amusement.”

Dean froze mid-bite, eyebrows shooting up as he turned to look at Castiel. “Uh… well, I mean, it’s not something you usually ask about. It just kinda… happens. You sit on someone’s lap when you’re close, I guess.”

Castiel nodded thoughtfully, and before Dean could fully process what was happening, Castiel stepped forward and perched himself on Dean’s lap, his movements precise but somehow endearingly awkward. “Like this?”

Dean sputtered, nearly dropping his sandwich as Castiel settled his weight on him. “Cas! What—what’re you doing?” Dean’s voice cracked with a mixture of surprise and laughter, his free hand hovering in the air as if he didn’t know where to put it.

“You said it just happens,” Castiel replied, his tone entirely serious, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. “I wanted to understand the significance. Is this appropriate?”

Dean stared at him for a long moment, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to form a response. “I mean… I guess? You don’t just—people don’t usually announce it first, Cas. They just… do it.”

“I see.” Castiel nodded solemnly, then adjusted slightly, getting more comfortable in Dean’s lap as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Dean groaned, shaking his head, but there was a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He leaned back, balancing Castiel’s weight with surprising ease. “If you’re gonna park yourself there, at least make yourself useful. Hand me the other sandwich.”

Castiel reached over, grabbing the second sandwich from the table and passing it to Dean with a small, satisfied smile. “Does this fulfill the requirements of sitting on one’s lap?” he asked, his voice steady but with a hint of what might have been amusement.

Dean laughed, shaking his head as he took the sandwich. “Yeah, Cas. You nailed it.” For a moment, they sat there in companionable silence, Dean munching on his sandwich and Castiel perched comfortably in his lap, his curious gaze wandering around the room.

“You know,” Dean said after a while, his voice light, “this is probably the weirdest peanut butter break I’ve ever had.”

Castiel tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Weird… but not unwelcome?”

Dean chuckled, leaning back and resting his hand on the arm of the chair. “Not unwelcome, Cas. Not at all.”

[redroses07]

destiel my babies

[thevioletcaptain]

today dean fucked up 😪

[ohsc]

destiel, 1.1k words, nsfw 18+, kind of somno, handjob, spitting, kissing

There was a hand against his abdomen and the touch made him sigh, eyelids fluttering. The weight pressed up against his back was nice, too, steady and firm and warm.

The shifting of covers, soft breath on his ear, and the hands dipped lower.

Still caught in the clutches of sleep, Dean only grunted and nuzzled further into his pillow, his breathing started to even out again. It wasn’t often he got to sleep in, and since all they had to do that day was just drive back home, he was grabbing the opportunity with both hands. He didn’t even register what was going on until the fingers dipped beneath his waistband and there was a hand taking ahold of his cock and that’s when his eyes snapped open, inhaling sharply through his nose.

A sound hadn’t even escaped him and a hand was clasping over his mouth, skin warm against his face.

“Shh, it’s just me,” the breath that tickled his ear was warm, too, in fact all of him was warm, prickling with a familiar heat as the fingers tightened around his cock, encouraging a groan into the palm over his mouth. “Dean, Sam is next door.”

If he could, he would have told his angel that the predicament was entirely not his fault, and Cas was the one who had shoved his hand down his pants, but his fucking hand was over his mouth and all he could do was nod shakily as he took sharp breaths through his nose.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been woken up like this, sometimes with Castiel’s hand and sometimes with his mouth, but usually they were shut away in the privacy of their room in the bunker where Dean had the freedom to be as loud as he wanted to be. Not with Sam one room over, with all that was between them being the shitty motel walls probably thinner than cardboard.

His hand shifted and Dean’s jaw clenched shut as another sound rumbled up and out of his chest, fingers grasping tight to the covers still around him that didn’t help with the overwhelming heat of the moment. Jesus Christ he was a mess.

A whine left his throat as Cas’ hand let go of him, though it was only brought up in front of his face as his other hand released its grip on his face. “Spit,” his voice came from behind him, chest rumbled against Dean’s back with the deep cadence, and the command was enough for him to exhale shakily as he spat into the palm cupped beneath his face. “Good.”

The other hand returned to cover his mouth and he was back to the sharp breathing through his nose, a little thankful that he was being kept quiet when his hand went back to his dick, slick enough with his spit to stroke him smoothly, and the groan that left his chest was filthy.

They hadn’t even been doing this for long. This being the kissing and the sex and the fact that Dean couldn’t be in the same room with Cas for too long without his heart almost giving out on him. One thing he had learned in that short stretch of time was that Cas was fucking horny, horny a lot of the time. Angel of the lord his ass.

Castiel’s hand shucked forwards again and he fucking whimpered, his hand releasing from the white-knuckled grip on the sheets to reach back and cling to the angel’s thigh, instead, breathing sharp and hard with each pump of his cock. And Christ his head was spinning, eyes squeezed shut and panting and he wasn’t even sure if he was thinking of anything outside of bright blue eyes and the strong hand wrapped around his cock.

His nails dug into Cas’ thigh and all it earned him was a warm mouth on the back of his neck, nipping and sucking another mark he’d have to hide from Sam since he wasn’t entirely fucking sure how to even explain all of this to his brother.

His thumb swiped over the head of his cock and he whimpered again, hips jerking forwards towards the hand working magic on him, and all it took was a few more pumps and he came with a moan, brain fuzzing like tv static and body going all tingly. Castiel kept stroking him until he was groaning at the sensitivity and went all twitchy, and only then did the two hands let go of him. His boxers were now wet and he wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to breathe properly anymore, but fuck did he feel good.

Finally able to, Dean rolled onto his side to look up at the other, still panting and hot all over, and he was met with a smirk.

“Good morning, Dean.”

His jaw dropped open, actually physically just fell, and for a moment he just stared. Did he have any sort of idea what he did to him? Did to his head? His heart?

Dean wasn’t keen on figuring it out right then, though, so instead he lifted his hand to cup the back of his neck and brought him down to kiss him with a groan, all tongue and teeth and want. That’s all that had been between them for weeks, this deep-rooted all consuming want that burned and sizzled beneath his skin whenever his angel was near.

What was happening to him?

His hand unconsciously searched for Cas’ belt, only aware he’d even moved when a hand clamped down around his wrist and pulled his hand away.

“But you—” Dean’s breath stuttered a little pathetically. God, he was pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that right then. That kind of thinking was for when he was behind the wheel of his Baby and had time to spiral over these things. “Cas, you—”

“I’ll be fine,” he was still smirking, fucker, a hand lifting to stroke Dean’s cheek. “You should get cleaned up and dressed, I’m sure Sam will want to leave soon.”

Dean was still panting when Castiel got up and off of the bed with one last kiss and murmur of, “I will meet you out by the car to prevent any distractions.”

The door shut behind him and Dean exhaled hard as his head fell back down on the pillow. He still felt all tingly and hot and he still hadn’t quite gotten his breathing back to normal yet, all he knew and that whatever this was, they were deep in it.

Hands fell over his face and he groaned. “Son of a bitch.”

[deancaspinefest]

Registration for the 2025 round is now open!

In the eight years since our first round, Pinefest authors have written 253 incredible fics comprising a collective 9.8 million words worth of pining, and artists have been inspired to create 811 gorgeous works of art to be viewed alongside them.

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Registration will remain open until September 30th for authors, while artists may continue to sign up until December 1st.

Artists and authors will be paired through an anonymous claims process on December 14th, and artists will have 3 months to work on their art before posting commences on pi(e) day – March 14, 2025!

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Until then... happy pining, everyone!

2025 Schedule | Rules & Requirements | FAQs | Previous Rounds

[casblackfeathers]

So Maybe You're My Fairytale

written by @casblackfeathers

When his dad goes missing, Dean follows a trail that leads to a small town seemingly plagued by monsters in the nearby woodland. Motivated by the growing count of missing persons and tales surrounding a terrifying beast, Dean embarks on a hunt to investigate the mysterious forest. The last thing he is expecting to find is an enchanted castle with talking furniture and cutlery. It's straight out of one of those Disney movies Sammy used to make Dean watch when they were kids. But Dean’s life has never been a fairytale, not since that dreadful night when he was four. Now trapped within the fortress’s walls and with no way to contact the outside world, Dean turns his attention to finding a way to break the curse and free himself and the castle's inhabitants. Dean is certain this Beast, Castiel, is the source of the mess they’re all in. But he can’t shake the feeling there’s something more in those too-blue eyes and ferocious demeanor. Instead, Dean finds himself pulled to him, wondering if he could ever learn to love a beast.

Genre: Beauty and the Beast au, au, canon divergence, fairytale, enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, romance, soft!dean, grumpy!castiel Pairing: Dean/Castiel Rating: Explicit Word count: 80k

READ ON AO3

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[gwendolynnnrose]

Rewatching 8x17 "goodbye stranger" and holy shit guys the amount of Dean's it took before Castiel could completely detach and just kill him. Wow don't touch me I'm sick.

[insomniacirl]

Thinking about Cas losing his mind watching Dean ride a horse like it's completely normal and natural for him- perfectly balanced with his strong thighs spread, tightened against the horse's sides.

Thinking about Dean having the time of his life, being too busy tipping his cowboy hat to people to notice Cas losing all his sensibilities in the background.

[angelsdean]

THE RESURRECTION OF DEAN WINCHESTER

Another body was placed before him on the rack. A fresh one. Soul unbroken. They wept, dripping light onto the blood-soaked dungeon floor.

The knife in his hand stung, hellfire shot down his throat, turned his insides to ash. He could not speak, had not spoken in a decade. Not since he finally uttered that broken, "Yes."

A clammy hand slithered over his shoulder. Hot, putrid breath against his cheek.

"Go on, boy. Make me proud."

He lifted his knife. His caged heart sobbed. Rattled. Squeezed itself, vice-like.

It beat outside his body. Or, his chest had been gouged open long ago. A gory window in, putting it right there for all to see. Alastair just laughed. He loved this part. Seeing Dean tear himself in two.

"What's the matter, Dean?" he cooed, pressing up close. "You know you love it." Alastair lifted Dean's chin with a finger. "Got a freshie, just for you. They always scream so pretty, no?"

Dean shuttered his eyes. It did nothing to change the scene. Please, he cried, inside. Please, end this torture. Someone, please.

He'd been begging for an eternity. Salvation never came. Still, he prayed, small and childlike. Four years old, asking for his mother. Forty years in Hell, asking for this fire to stop burning.

"Do you need me to break you a little?" Alastair continued in that same false sweetness. "Will that get you going?" His hands were all over. More hands growing and groping. Dean shook as knives were plunged into him. Twisting hooks. Two hands 'round his neck. One finger probing at his caged heart.

Dean sobbed, screamed out. His own light leaked onto the floor, out of the dark void that had come to mask his soul.

He couldn't hurt another soul. He couldn't stand it. He let the knife fall. Clattering like a thunderclap. Light continued to spill out, filling the room. Alastair increased his onslaught, displeased by Dean's disobedience.

"I will put you back on the rack," he roared. "I will take you apart piece by piece. You will never be whole again. Deep down. You know it. You are rotten to the core." His hand shot through Dean's guts, scooping him clean, leaving him empty.

A ringing filled his ears. Dean couldn't hear himself anymore. Even Alastair's voice faded away. The room continued to fill with light. Different now. Blue-white mingling with the gold of Dean's soul.

Opening his eyes against the brilliance he caught glimpses of massive wings and shifting heads, changing colors and claws. Millions of eyes looked at him. Dean shut his own eyes once more, and the image he'd seen fizzled away, incomprehensible to his mind.

Then the being gripped him. His shoulder burned at the point of contact, but it was a pleasant burn.

The searing sensation zipped through him. Warm and cool all at once. The cage around his heart fell away.

He was pulled upwards, like a fish on a hook, shooting through the water up towards the light.

For the first time in forty years, he felt no pain. Breaking the surface, he drank his first breath from the being that enveloped him.

Then, deep and clear as a bell, a voice proclaimed: DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED.

➥ supernatural september prompts: rotten, reanimated, between heaven and hell, trueform

[infinitecakes]

IT'S FINALLY HERE!

Author and Artist Sign ups for the Infinite Cakes Great Big Bang are OPEN!

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Well, its unlike any other bang out there. Still have more questions? Learn all about the "Two Cakes Theory" and how this bang came to be here.

Intrigued?

Check out the rules for both bangs (that's right two bangs at once!)

All-Ships Bang

Destiel Bang

Schedule

But how does this bang actually work?

Well, there are three prompts that you can choose from for each bang. These prompts are selected specifically for either the Destiel or the All-Ships bang. So, you can't take an All-Ships prompt and write a Destiel story (at least for this bang).

Check out the prompts here.

Find a prompt that sparks your imagination? Awesome. Here's the sign up form.

Have more questions? Feel free to reach out to any of the mods or send us an ask.

Hope to see you there and there's always room for MOAR CAKE!

[valleydean]

Final Chapter: Chapter 19 [Read Here]

CHAMPION Part III of Heavyweight a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from the beginning | playlist

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1933. Dean Winchester, the number one contender, trains to become the next Heavyweight Champion of the World, and this time he won't let anything get in his way. Title holder Castiel Novak has second thoughts about retiring, especially when someone from his past arrives in New York and asks for his help. Meanwhile, a new contender rises to fame and threatens to complicate both of Dean and Cas' ambitions - and their relationship.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

Winchester v Webb: Heavyweight Title Fight Set for Early May

That had been the newspaper headline all across America that morning.

May gave Dean four months to get his eyes on the prize. Cas and Bobby made training schedules; Benny bought bleacher tickets to Lee’s first bout post-recovery in February, to recon how Lee’s fighting style might have changed after his surgery; Rufus kept his ear to the ground, listening for any rumors about ways Luc might try to fix the fight; Sam spent a full two weeks going through the bout’s contract with a fine-tooth comb.

Dean let them deal with the details. He focused on getting his head in the game. It was like stretching a muscle he’d let weaken after much time of disuse. He’d thought he’d been ready for a title bout for at least a year now, but maybe a part of him had expected Cas to pull the rug out from under him after all, because it finally felt real now. For the first time in years, Dean had a shot at being the champion. He wasn’t about to miss it.

Apparently, Cas wasn’t going to let him do that either.

Today was Cas’ first official-unofficial day as part of Team Winchester, and he’d started the training before Dean even woke up. The son of a bitch got out of bed at the crack of dawn, stole Dean’s car keys, and left a note saying he and Sam took the Superior to drop off Jack at school and they’d see you at the gym at 8. He’d also stolen Dean’s wallet so that Dean couldn’t take a taxi to the gym. Dean had to start his morning off with a run.

When he got in a little after 8 AM, Cas made him warm up on the jump rope, which was pretty standard. But then he told Dean to run again—that time, up and down the stairs twenty times.

Dean looked at Bobby for help, but Bobby only grumbled, “You asked for this.” Sam laughed and laughed at Dean’s expense.

Finally, Dean was able to freestyle on a bag as the rest of the boxers trickled in for the morning session. Victor was the first to arrive. He took one look at the way Dean had already sweated through his sweat suit and gave a leering grin. “Had enough already, Winchester?” he teased, and Dean would have flipped him off if he hadn’t been wearing his gloves, so he did it with his arms instead. It didn’t have as much of an effect, but he was pretty sure Victor would have laughed at him either way.

By midday, the gym was filled with all the usual faces. They all hung off the ropes, watching Dean and Cas on the mitts inside the ring.

Dean had known that Cas was faster with the mitts than Rufus was, but he must have been trying to pick up the pace at certain points, because he was merciless. Dean’s breath was tight in his chest and there was a dry, burning stitch in his sides. Cas hadn’t even broken a sweat. No one would have ever been able to tell that he’d been laid up in the hospital only a month ago.

It was annoying—not to mention pretty distracting.

Dean followed the way Cas was angling and moving the mitts. He jabbed and crossed, jabbed and crossed again. Cas thrust his arm forward, and Dean slipped to the front, the mitt glancing off his shoulder. He shoveled a front uppercut into the mitt when Cas angled it downward. Cas moved forward, making Dean step back and throw a cross at the same time. Dean moved forward again and threw a rear uppercut.

Cas pivoted to the side and swung the mitt, making Dean roll under it and step around Cas to keep them toe-to-toe. A hook and another uppercut. Cas held up the mitts so Dean could throw a few fast ones and twos until Bobby called time.

A few members of their little audience started whistling and clapping—but probably not for Dean, even though he was the one doing all the hard work. Aside from the newbies, nobody ever gawked at him when he was training. Cas was the one who had their attention. Maybe a month ago, that would have pissed Dean off. Now, he was just glad Cas was around for people to swoon over at all.

Dean stretched his neck from side to side and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the fatigue from them. Sweat dripped down from the ends of his hair and got into his eyes. His throat was dry from panting so hard.

He’d asked Cas to help him get faster, and Cas was definitely delivering.

“Alright, show’s over. Get back to it or get out,” Bobby barked at the boxers. Slowly, everyone started trickling away, headed to the weight benches or various bags. Rufus followed a few of the palookas to the speed bags to show them how it was done.

Cas pulled off his mitts and shoved them under his armpit before drifting closer to Dean. “Good work,” he complimented sincerely.

Dean tried not to blush. He didn’t even know why he felt one coming on. He wasn’t exactly a mitt practice virgin.

He cleared his throat and muttered, “Thanks.”

He glanced over to where his water and sweat towel were waiting for him on a stool in the corner of the ring. Sam and Bobby were just on the other side of the ropes, Sam with his hands casually on his hips while he and Bobby spoke. He looked like a natural in the gym, like he fit in there as well as Dean did. Secretly, Dean hoped it took Sam a damn long time to find a new job. He liked having him there—and something told him Sam was enjoying it, too. Maybe Sam had just needed to get out from under their father’s thumb for him to realize he belonged here.

“Can I get a water break,” Dean gasped out, “or do you have some new way to torture me?”

Cas’ eyes lit up in a humored smile. He tipped his head toward the corner. “Go.”

Dean knocked his shoulder playfully against Cas’ before heading for the water. As he went, he undid the knots of his gloves with his teeth and pulled them off, then put them on the stool and snatched up the water bottle.

Cas followed closely behind him and leaned back against the ropes, resting his elbows over the top.

“Lookin’ good,” Sam told Dean. He reached inside the ring and picked up Dean’s gloves.

Dean chugged his water until he ran out of oxygen. It dribbled down his chin and neck, but he wasn’t mad about it because it cooled him down. Through ragged breaths, he said, “Thanks. Don’t have much of a choice with this one—” he nodded toward Cas. “It’s either keep up or risk getting punched.”

Cas scoffed in amusement. “Now you know how I felt when we first met.”

Dean gave him a crooked grin. “I think it worked out for you.”

“Okay, enough flirting,” Bobby scolded, exasperated. “Dean, go do some core work and cool down. We’ll pick this up again after lunch.” He looked at Cas. “Maybe you can get him to actually touch the reaction bag.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ve used it plenty’a times.” So what if it wasn’t his favorite thing to do? He didn’t like getting a face full of leather if he happened to be too slow, and he especially didn’t like it when Benny saw it happen—as he somehow always seemed to do—and started laughing at him.

“I’ll see that he does it,” Cas promised Bobby. He turned his blue eyes on Dean. “After he gets his energy back.”

Dean was pretty excited for the prospect of food and a nap. The hunger gnawing at his gut was starting to turn ravenous, but he’d rather drive home to eat instead of picking something up around the gym. It’d be easier to snooze for an hour afterward.

He walked up to Cas and placed his wrapped hands on Cas’ sides. “I’ll be quick cooling off. Wanna head home after that?”

Cas nodded gently, his eyes scanning Dean up and down with appreciation and affection. Dean’s lips buzzed to kiss him, but he settled for planting one on Cas’ temple.

“Would you two cut it out? I want you keeping it vertical in my ring, got it?” Bobby snapped. Next to him, Sam pulled a grossed-out face.

“Little late for that,” Dean murmured into Cas’ ear. He pulled away and saw the way Cas dipped his head to hide his smile. Dean let his hands slide off Cas’ ribs and headed for the stairs on the other side of the ring, then for the mats near the weights.

[milquetoast-er]

Hey y’all! I’ve never promoted my fic on here but I thought I’d give it a shot. This is my first SPN work and first completed long fic, and my pride and joy 🥹 Full of hijinks, husbandism, angst/bickering, cuddling and making up, Cas being a flirty bitchy bastard, Dadstiel, Dad!Dean, and healing. I included an excerpt so you can get a feel for the formatting and see if you like it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54793849/chapters/138880636

(If you liked Kenopsia (Talk Some Sense to Me) by ImYourHoneyBee you might like the vibes of this one, but I swear I read that AFTER I wrote 80% of this 😭😭 PLEASE READ THAT IT IS A FANDOM MUST)

[folkbloodbaths]

While the warm wind blows through the Eastern Halls, the Angel tends to the Dead. 

Dean / Cas Horrorfest presents: 

The Forgotten Halls

Art by @thestarsmakemedream-art Story by allthismusic 

Rated: T  Word count: 9k

Tags/Warnings: Inspired by Piranesi by Susannah Clarke, post-canon, the Empty, amnesia, non-euclidean space

Summary: A long time from now — maybe decades, maybe centuries — there are only the Halls, and the Entity, and the Angel. They exist in harmony, mostly. When an outsider changes their routine, a routine so long-standing that the Angel remembers nothing that had come before it, the disturbance will threaten the fabric of their entire universe.

Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest 

Preview: 

“You could be like them,” the Entity says when it comes upon the Angel gently moving the remains of a boy in red clothing so that he does not get washed away by the next tide. The Angel looks up from his task to greet his visitor. “Still, you do not rest,” the Entity says. Its face is familiar to the Angel in a way that reminds him of his own, but there’s something about it, something behind it that seems to shift and change and somehow makes the Angel feel as though he is looking through the Entity rather than at it.  “They need me,” the Angel explains. “And you have asked me to observe the Halls.”  “Your selflessness knows no bounds,” the Entity says dryly. The Angel does not understand why this does not sound like a compliment. “But yes. If you cannot find it in yourself to diminish, then it is very useful for you to expand our knowledge of these… Halls.”  The Angel follows the Entity’s gaze around the Halls, with its dark recesses and its gothic arches. There are three statues in the chamber where the Red-Clothing Boy rests: a sweet-looking cherub, a lion’s-head bust, and an intricately carved bird that the Angel thinks might be a phoenix. It is one of the most interesting chambers of the Halls, but the Entity’s eyes seem to slide past its elaborate statues and its intriguing nooks and crannies. “Have you seen anyone else here?” the Entity asks. Its tone is carefully calm, but there is a metallic scrape to its words that betrays a sense of intensity.  “Yes, of course,” the Angel says, and the Entity looks taken aback. But when he starts reminding his visitor of the other Dead, like the Red-Clothing Boy, who dwell stilly and silently within the Halls, it quickly becomes clear that the Angel’s charges are not who the Entity is asking about.  “There are Others who seek to find this place,” the Entity explains gravely. “There may be as many as three, but I think only one will come. The Hunter.”  “What is he hunting?” the Angel asks.  “You,” the Entity says, and though a hint of threat is present in its answer, the Angel feels unexpectedly hopeful. “Me,” the Entity continues. “These Halls… if the Hunter finds his way here, the very architecture of this place is in danger, along with all its inhabitants. If you see him, you must tell me immediately, and you must not speak to him.”

[shineforthee]

ghost, zero, suitcase, and the moon

Author: @shineforthee | Artist: @witchy-worm

Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Grief & Loss, Ambiguous Ending, Derealization, Apocalypse, Suicidal Ideation Summary: Dean has always known it was ending. The world, that is. He knew it when he was three, awake and screaming in the middle of the night with the image of fire leaving an afterburn behind his eyelids. He knew it while he learned to ride a bike, while he went to his first school dance, had his first kiss, tipped back his first beer with his dad. He knew it when dad left, too. When Sammy died. When it all began to crumble.

He has always known it was ending. Now he's alone in a cabin somewhere so far north and so far west that he thinks half the continent never knew it existed in the first place, and he's got the same damn nightmares, the same burn behind his eyes, and the sense that ending is a verb that goes on and on into eternity and outside of time.

Excerpt:

There are only five things:

The sky, vibrant violet, swirling clouds like eyes staring, blinking down at him.

Clarity, sharp and unbidden. He wakes as if he’s slept a thousand years, as if he’s never slept before this one singular moment.

With that clarity, pain. Sharp. Unbidden.

Screaming. God there’s screaming and it’s coming from inside him. It’s trying to get out so badly. Ripping from his throat. He didn’t know fish could scream. Didn’t know worms could scream. Didn’t know bones could scream.

The hard rock knuckles are gone from behind and beneath him and whatever has replaced them is palm-soft. He cannot remember the last time something was soft.

Coming to @deancashorrorfest this October

[ohsc]

Do you think you could do some Destiel fluff? <3

destiel, 1.1k, finale doesn’t exist, fluff, domesticity, background saileen, unedited

Honestly, it’s a wonder that Dean was able to breathe at all, sometimes.

He and Cas had been… whatever they were for two weeks. Kissing and cuddling and indulging in each other for two weeks. It was fucking scary, shoving past the part of his brain that said he was undeserving, that said he didn’t get to be happy, that eventually it would end like everything else good he’d ever had. But whenever he got too in his head, Cas was there with his stupidly soft smile and stupidly soft lips, and melted any coherent thought from his brain entirely.

His heart still stopped whenever he kissed him, sometimes he had to remind himself to keep breathing, or more embarrassingly, Cas had to remind him.

Whatever. Who fucking cares. He finally had what he wanted — Castiel.

Bacon was sizzling in the pan in front of him when he felt warm palms against his waist, and Dean honestly felt butterflies. And fuck off, he wasn’t a thirteen year old girl, but Cas had an unfairly huge talent at getting him speechless and flustered.

The arms slid forwards and around his waist, strong arms squeezed, and his heart stuttered in his chest when he felt a kiss pressed between his shoulder blades. Jesus Christ.

“Last time you distracted me in here we almost started a fire.” Dean scoffed, voice still a little deep with the lingering cling of sleep. Stood in an old tatty Metallica shirt and boxers, it was clearly the angel’s favourite look on him. In the mornings he was handsy.

“I promise to not let you start another fire, Dean,” he murmured into his shoulder blade where another kiss was pressed. Dean shivered. “I simply wanted to hug you.”

It should have been criminal how gooey he went inside. Cas had attached himself to his back like they were a pair of stickle bricks, and he didn’t have it in him to make him let go. He’d never been comforted by the touch of another before. On the hard days, days after bad cases or nights plagued by nightmares, the angel’s touch was enough to break through the fog in his head and soothe him entirely. He’d spend an entire lifetime in his touch if he could.

“Sap,” he scoffed instead, not mentally there enough to convey just how sweet it was, though his hand left the handle of the frying pan and reached down, squeezed one of the tanned arms snaked around him. “Gonna stay there all morning, facehugger?”

A soft huff of breath against the back of his neck. “I’m attached to your back, Dean, not your face.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, pity.”

The arms around him shifted, and before he could make the connection to his brain what exactly happened, a warm palm was on his cheek and tipped his head to the side in time for his mouth to slot over Dean’s easily, and it felt like his heart was on the way to just giving out. A breathy little sound escaped up and out of his throat and his hands clutched at his shirt, frying pan and breakfast and the fire from last time completely forgotten.

It wasn’t even a particularly steamy kiss. Cas’ mouth moved slowly against his own, a thumb stroked along the skin of his cheek like he was being committed to memory, and when the angel finally pulled back his expression was so soft.

“Dean.”

“Mm?”

“Breathe.”

His inhale was shuddery as he clung to the other’s shirt, absolutely detesting the way his ears heated up in embarrassment, even more so when he was being smirked at. “Asshole.”

Cas just kept smirking, amused. “I’m sorry, it’s just a very nice feeling, knowing that I can get you like that.”

His face was hot too by the time he turned back to the pan to flip the bacon again, grumbling as he did so.

There was a soft laugh behind him before Cas was velcro against his back once more. Warm palms that once held blades and fought in the battles of heaven dipped beneath his shirt and stroked the soft skin of his abdomen, and Dean couldn’t imagine the idea that his heaven could be anywhere else but right there.

They stayed in a comfortable silence as he plated up the bacon and eggs from the stove. Every now and then he heard a soft hum behind him, or a kiss to his shoulder blades, and every now and then Dean lifted one of the angel’s hands and pressed a kiss to his knuckles with a smile.

Fuck the white picket fence and the mortgage, this was the apple pie life he desired.

Eileen’s soft laugh from down the hallway drew Dean’s attention from the soft mouth on the back of his neck and his hands reached down to pry the arms off of his waist. “Let go, you’re like a weed.”

Castiel grumbled against his shoulder. “Why won’t you just tell them?”

“Because it’s funnier not to.” Dean snorted.

He and Cas had already been having sex for a whole week when Sam came to him and gave him a lecture about feelings and how much you mean to Castiel. And instead of spilling the beans on the whole relationship thing, he’d bit the inside of his cheek to hide his smile until he laughed about it to his angel later. In his eyes it was hilarious, he honestly just wanted to see how long it took his giant baby brother to figure it all out.

Cas huffed again, though that time he did let go, and stepped across the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine as Sam and Eileen wandered into the kitchen. His brother’s hair looked like a bird’s nest and she was wearing one of his shirts like a dress — something he teased her for with a wiggle of his eyebrows to get Sam to glare at him with pink cheeks — but it was just nice to see his brother so happy. All those years ago, he hadn’t got to see what Sam was like with Jess, the girl who had once been it for him. It left a warm feeling in his chest whenever he got to watch Sam smile all dopey at Eileen, sickly-sweet in love.

He dished out plates of food, meeting his angel’s eyes across the room whilst Sam and Eileen talked away at the table in their own bubble.

“You owe me.” Cas mouthed, and the look on his face made Dean’s insides go all silly stupid with want again.

“Love you too.” He mouthed back, grinning.

[deancaspinefest]

Congratulations to all of the incredible artists and authors who participated in the eighth round of the Dean/Cas Pinefest!

Over the past month, 34 authors and 23 artists teamed up to share a collective 1,420,869 words of pine-filled fic and 117 works of art. The talent and artistry of this fandom absolutely floors us every year, and we're so happy that you're all still here sharing your wonderful creations with us 🌲 

With that in mind, we'll definitely be back for more! An official announcement for the 2025 Pinefest -- our ninth year -- will come sometime in July. Follow us here on Tumblr to make sure you don’t miss out on any details!

Under the cut, you’ll find links to every fic & art masterpost from the 2024 round, and you can also check out the collection on Ao3. Make sure to let the authors and artists know how much you enjoyed their creations with a like, kudos, or best of all, a reblog, rec, or comment!

following the light

One Drop, when What You Need is the Ocean

Of Dust, Gunpowder and Holy Water

Books, Pies, and Roommates

A Fairy Tale Cliche!

All in Honesty

Another Kind of Memory

Not our kind of thing

Different Currencies

In The Dog Days

Whatever Makes You Happy

Significant severe

all that we intend

Something Happening Somewhen

Two Princes

Broken (The Worst Is Over Now)

Well, I Never Been To Heaven

The Reel Deal

A Fabulous Evening's Apocalypse

Foxfire

Super Double Bus

Suddenly I See

Lavender Fireflies

Heartland Flyer

Something Blue

Wouldn't It Be Nice

If Only You Return to Me

all out to sea

Dear Father

Opposites Distract

Faking It?

Given to Fly

Take The Long Way Home

A Glacial Pace

All caught up on this year’s crop of pine? There are 694 more works of art and 219 more fics to be found in the previous seven Pinefest rounds -- and if you're into numbers, you can find a full breakdown of this and past year’s stats here!

Until next time… happy pining!