#I spent too many hours in CAS making them and they deserve to see the light

[duusheen]

some teens 💀

[q1mblrrd]

In The Eyes of God

Castiel x Dean (Destiel, Fantasy AU) 💚💙

Word Count: 3,436

Cas and Dean are forbidden lovers, prince x peasant. PART TWO!! SMUT!!

Part one: https://www.tumblr.com/q1mblrrd/771172101847728128/in-the-eyes-of-god?source=share

Part three: https://www.tumblr.com/q1mblrrd/771529942829793280/in-the-eyes-of-god?source=share

Warnings: oral sex, masterbation, slight violence (a single slap), hints of an eating disorder

Seasons changed, leaves fell and winter came, bringing bitter cold and light snowfall. Shirts turned to layers and elaborate designs of lace on thick capes and coats. Picnics turned to long dinners in a grand hall lit by a big fireplace. Castiel still remained forever uninterested in the meetings with his potential wives, which only angered his Father more by the day. The only seemingly good thing brought about by the winter was that Dean spent more time inside than he did in the stables.

 Tonight Castiel sat at the grand table staring down at his food. Nothing looked appetizing anymore, and he’d only started to eat less the longer the days ran. Dean had noticed from his post standing silent by the door, but he refrained from commenting. He couldn’t, not in front of the entire Royal family. They weren’t even supposed to know each other, much less be acquainted. Nobody noticed that Castiel didn’t eat, nobody besides Dean. The plates were cleared away and Castiel was dismissed back to his chambers. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his clothing and letting his mind wander. 

What was in store for the next day? More meetings with young ladies, fencing lessons, if he remembered correctly he had some studying to do for an exam. He slipped his feet from the boots, resting them against the cool stone, shivering slightly at the difference in temperature. His sleeping clothes had already been laid out on the bed, the soft silk running smoothly through his fingers and over his shoulders. It was a deep solid blue, silver embroidery along the sleeves and collar. He felt he didn’t deserve such lavish things, all of these belongings, not after his sins. They seemed to only grow stronger by the day, impossible to wash clean no matter how long he scrubbed at his skin or how many hours he spent in the chapel. 

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. 

“Coming.”

Castiel called over his shoulder, finishing the buttons along the front of his shirt as he walked over and opened the door. He stilled being met face to face with Dean, who gave hints of a smile in his eyes to hide it from anyone else but Castiel. 

“Dean.” Castiel let out a breath, his arm slowly dropping to his sides. He lowered his voice, checking down the hall to make sure nobody else was around. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here, this is dangerous.”

”You didn’t eat at dinner.” Dean replied quietly, seemingly unbothered by his words. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Yes, I’m fine, still—why are you here? You can’t be seen with me,”

Dean pushed himself into Castiel’s room, ignoring as the other sputtered for a moment, and quickly shut his door, locking it. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I was worried.” 

“Well, I’m perfectly fine, so you can go.” 

Castiel stepped up to him, turning his head up slightly to meet the other’s eyes. Dean didn’t move or speak for a moment, taking a deep breath and watching the other. He didn’t want to leave, and in all honesty, the words he wanted to say felt stuck in his throat. Castiel felt too close, too warm, like the sun. Dean was nothing in front of this beautiful person in front of him. He could see the other talking, speaking to him, trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t listen. Those gorgeous blue eyes, pulled him under, drowning him in a way he hadn’t been before. 

Castiel slapped him. Dean’s head jerked to the side, pulling a gasp from his chest as he put a hand over the forming red mark on his cheek. He knew he should be angry, but for some reason it only made him want to kiss him more. 

“What the hell are you doing here like this? You know you’re not supposed to be—”

Dean grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward but meeting his lips gently. Castiel gasped, his eyes widening as he froze. Surely he’d thought about this very moment endlessly for weeks, months even, but now that he was living it? It wasn’t supposed to happen. All that work he’d put into trying to forget the other, and now it was gone. He felt Dean’s hand on his shirt, his warm breath, the way he could’ve easily tossed him around but he didn’t. This sort of sweet serenity lasted only a few moments before Castiel came to his senses, breaking the kiss and shoving Dean away so roughly that he tripped over the rug and fell to the ground with a hiss of pain. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you even—“ Castiel started shouting before he realized he was far too loud, stumbling back a half step as heat flushed through his whole body. Dean just looked up at him with wide eyes and bated breath. Had he fucked it all up? Had he been misreading this whole time? Castiel lowered his volume, bordering on anger. “Dean, you can’t just— We can’t. Do you understand that? Fuck, why would you…” He trailed off, running his hands through his hair as he shut his eyes and tried to get his mind to work properly. All his work, all his progress at trying to force the other into a box he could lock away was gone. Useless. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean said quietly as if his words might shatter a very thin plane of glass. That’s what it felt like, walking on glass, knowing if he fell through he’d only get cut. Part of the danger was what made it so appealing though, the risk, the looming knowledge that this, whatever this was, wasn’t right. Or so they say. Carefully he pushed himself to his feet, hesitating before moving a step forward. Castiel moved back in tandem, dropping his hands, and tilting his head away in shame. He wasn’t supposed to like it, it was wrong and bad, he was broken. “I’m sorry, Cas—”

”Don’t.” Castiel brought a hand up, whether it was to shield himself or hit the other again he couldn’t remember, “Don’t call me that. You shouldn’t.”

”I shouldn’t, or you don't want me to?”

Castiel cursed under his breath, scoffing and lifting his head only to glare at Dean. Now it was his turn to move forward and grab his shirt, yanking him close enough he could smell that familiar aroma of burning wood and ash. The way his eyes widened a fraction, showing those gorgeous forest green eyes. No—

“What— Why? Why are you doing this?” Castiel started sharply, forcing down those other thoughts. “Why are you making this more difficult for me? You must like it, seeing me suffer. I wonder if you might be the devil himself, tempting me like this. How— How?” His breath caught, a strange feeling pooling in his gut. Dean remained quiet, somehow only more and more attracted now that the other was angry with him. “You know this is wrong. You know it in your head and you know I can’t. We can’t. Imagine what they’ll do to—“

”To me?” Dean interjected, daring to push himself just a little bit closer. “I know what they’d do. I know, and yet I can’t bring myself to care. You say it's a sin, but you don't believe it. You know you don't, so stop lying to yourself. Let me in Castiel, please, it only hurts because you— you force it away! Let it happen, let me help you, please. I don’t want to hurt you.” Castiel struggled to figure out what to do, tossing the idea of shoving him away and pulling him closer back and forth in his mind. He didn’t want him closer, Dean being closer made him feel hot and flushed, and it made it impossible to think. It made him anxious and scared and somehow so weak he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. Dean being close made him get lost in those eyes and in his own head, planning all the ways the other would probably make him beg. But Dean being away meant Castiel was left to suffer on his own. It meant the thought lingered, it meant he was left with nothing but a sense of pain deep in his chest, something that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he pleaded for forgiveness from God or no matter how many times he touched himself hoping that just one more time might make things go back to normal.

“We can’t Dean,” Castiel started quietly, shaking his head, the fear pulling him further and further away. “You know we can’t, it’s a sin.” He fell into a pained whisper, Dean’s expression only becoming more determined. He was tired of pretending like he didn’t care, he was tired of Castiel forcing the truth away. He could make the other understand, he was sure of it. He knew Castiel would listen, he knew because he recognized the way he would watch Dean’s eyes. He knew the way the other cast glances over his shoulder, the way his fingers would linger just a little longer than they were supposed to, and he knew because Castiel still hadn’t let go of his shirt. 

“Why then?” Dean spoke up, grabbing onto Castiel’s wrist with one hand. “Why is it such a sin? Why does God bid me to love you if it is such a sin? Why does the world turn if not for love? You and I, only exist because of love. Why is ours different? It shouldn’t matter if the world hates our love because it is ours! It’s ours, not theirs Castiel! I shouldn’t care if they strung me up tomorrow for loving you, because even as my neck breaks I would still love you!” Tears were in his eyes, even if he hadn’t meant for them to be there. He wanted to be strong, that’s what this was meant to be, something solid, not shaky.

 “I will die before I should walk away from you and from this, and if God says our love is a sin, then I curse him. I curse God, and I curse his angels, and I should curse the world before I ever turn my back on you. Do you understand that?” By now his hands were on Castiel’s shoulders, shaking him slightly to prove his point as a single tear slipped down one cheek, and then another on the other. His voice had cracked, trying his best to get through to the other. It wasn’t bad, Dean could feel it in his soul. Castiel was struck into stunned silence, the internal conflict causing more turmoil than he would’ve liked. 

“I— I understand.” Castiel stammered softly, managing a nod. He couldn’t understand how Dean said everything he wanted to say with such ease, just letting the words fall from his lips like a smooth liquor. He couldn’t get enough, of listening to that voice, letting it soothe him. Dean was right. Who needed the world when the world was standing right in front of him, holding him, begging him to understand? “I understand,” Castiel said again, this time softer, firmer. He did understand. He knew it just the same as Dean did, and that knowledge was what pulled his gaze down to the other’s lips.

They had been so soft and gentle, so kind to him. Did he deserve that kindness? Dean made him feel like he did and for a moment he could force that little voice yelling at him down, put the voice crying it was wrong into a box, and shove it somewhere dark and quiet. Dean let out a soft breath, carefully letting go of Castiel’s shoulders to bring one hand to his cheek, holding his face steady, tilting him up just slightly. For a while, they just looked and admired what they’d been missing. Finally, it was at their fingertips and not just imagination. This was real. 

Castiel let out a gentle breath, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips against Dean’s. Dean didn’t hesitate to kiss back, the hand on Castiel’s cheek shifting to the back of his head, making sure he stayed close as his eyes closed. They pressed together and Castiel moved his hands to Dean’s waist, holding him steady. It felt like months of waiting came crashing down over him all at once, and Dean could feel it against his leg. Not that he was complaining. 

Dean's other hand moved to the front of Castiel’s shirt, fiddling with the buttons and slowly undoing them as their kiss deepened and he tilted his head to the side to let them be closer. Castiel could’ve stopped breathing, the heat making him want those hands to move much quicker. It was tortuously slow, and it frustrated him. Dean was taking his sweet time, savoring every moment he got to taste the other, every second that their skin was together felt like lightning in his veins. He broke the kiss to watch as he slipped the garment off Castiel’s shoulders, running curious fingers across his skin. It was dusted with light freckles, untouched by work or weather, the softest thing Dean had ever felt. There were no scars, no bruises, no burns or cuts, nothing Dean seemed to sport every few inches.

Castiel was beautiful. 

Dean’s lips connected against his neck, kissing his skin in what could only be described as worship. Castiel felt choked of air, shivers racking up his spine as the other pushed him back until his calves touched the mattress, then pushed him further until his bare back rested against the cool fabric. He couldn’t think, eyes closing as hands ran over his body, guiding him to relax, to trust Dean. Dean was beyond lost, lapping at Castiel’s neck, holding him steady when he whimpered or gave those perfect little shivers. He didn’t know such a drug existed, but listening to the other when he tried to keep quiet might as well have nailed his coffin right shut. It took physical effort to continue, so utterly paralyzed with emotion that he didn’t know how to go slowly. His breath came in heavier and heavier, panting and moaning into his shoulders, down his chest, greedy hands pulling away the rest of his clothes. 

By now Castiel was trembling, it was hard to stay still when each wet print left a burning cold sensation on his body. He had to stay quiet, nobody could hear them. It would mean death, he knew that. It made him harder than he’d ever been. He struggled and gasped for air, gulping it down between suppressed whines and mumbled apologies for one reason for another. He knew his cries for mercy would fall on deaf ears once more, but as Dean’s lips ran down his navel and his tongue slipped under the band of his underwear he didn’t think it mattered anymore. His fingers threaded into his own hair, trying desperately to avoid reaching down and forcing the other to just do it already. He didn’t know if he could stand this much longer, sitting in this burning heat. 

Dean was on his knees at the edge of the bed, hands against Castiel’s knees before slipping up his thighs. He was thoroughly enjoying every sound, every little squirm, the way he had to hold Castiel’s legs open. It was amazing, keeping him waiting, watching as he looked away, either too scared or too embarrassed to look down and meet his eyes. Eventually, he didn’t have the heart to tease the other anymore, running cold fingertips along the length of his dick, salivating at the moan it ripped from Castiel’s chest. He was clearly struggling so much, it felt mean to deny it any longer. Dean’s tongue met his tip, taking him down carefully inch after inch, running his tongue up and down. It was like music to his ears, the sounds Castiel was making. It was completely involuntary, but Dean’s other hand slipped beneath his trousers, gripping himself and moving in tandem with his mouth. 

At some point Castiel had the sense to grab a pillow and bite down, muffling every low moan that fell from his lips before he could bother stopping it. His hand had threaded into Dean’s hair at some point too, but he couldn’t remember that either. All he could think about was the warm, wet feeling of Dean’s mouth all over his cock. It was painful, and the only antidote was the way Dean’s tongue ran along that one little vein. It was beyond addictive, the sound of short breaths growing shorter, soft whines growing higher. His whole body felt as if he were on fire and suspended in heaven all at once. Nothing he’d ever done to himself even came close to this, gripping Dean’s hair and pulling when it felt like too much but all he wanted was more. 

Dean wasn’t much better, panting against Castiel’s heated flesh, whimpering quietly as he ran a thumb around his own tip. It wasn’t his turn yet, Castiel had to go first, that’s what he’d decided. So he worked harder, going deeper, forcing down the urge to gag, shutting his eyes when his hips jerked into his hand. He had to calm down, but how could he when the most responsive, needy excuse of a man was lying right in front of him, squirming around all because of his tongue? Dean would’ve done this much sooner if he had known Castiel would be arching up like that, his chest rising and falling in quick gasps, his skin dripping with a thin sheen of sweat. 

Castiel tried to say his name to warn him, but the pillow muffled too much and he couldn’t even think straight. His eyes rolled back, the grip on Dean’s hair tightening to hold him in place as his hips rolled up instinctively. Warm liquid exploded on Dean’s tongue and he was quick to swallow, the hand that wasn’t jerking himself off rubbing against Castiel’s thigh in hopes of communicating it was alright. 

Castiel felt like he was on another plane of existence, stars exploding in his vision, white-hot tension like a knife cutting up his spine and making it impossible to stay still. After a minute or so of helpless rutting into Dean’s mouth, he managed to catch his breath, the body slowly stilling as he let the pillow fall away from his mouth and panted heavily for air. Dean pulled his mouth away gently, the sensation forcing out one last soft whimper from Castiel’s lips. Dean kisses along his twitching thighs, his hand moving faster, pre acting as his own lubricant. It didn’t take but another minute before he was groaning into Castiel’s skin, a tight feeling causing him to tense before the glass roof shattered and he came. He caught his breath, wiping his dirtied hand against the side of his pant leg. 

“Are you alright?” Dean asked the other as he stood up and looked down at him. Castiel was a mess. A very attractive mess, one that Dean was sure he’d be fucking again very soon. Castiel just nodded, starting to calm down. Dean waited a moment to be sure before leaving to find a square of fabric and dip it in a bowl of water. It was cold, but it was the most he could do. He came back over, whispering soft phrases to Castiel as he cleaned him up to his best abilities. Once they were both clean and calm exhaustion set in, pulling Dean into bed beside Castiel. These sheets felt so soft against Dean’s body, something he wasn’t quite used to. It felt out of place, but Castiel under his arm didn’t. Years of sleeping on piles of hay and cobblestone had taught him to be grateful for the bare minimum.

He pressed his nose against the back of Castiel’s neck, feeling the soft strands of hair against his cheek, smelling the hints of eucalyptus and lavender in whatever lavish soap the other probably used. He wondered how he was this lucky, fingers tracing patterns on Castiel’s side, his mind wandering back to when his mother used to do the same thing for him. He wondered if it brought the same comfort to Castiel. For a man who had sworn he’d never find a home again after being sold away from his own, he sure felt at home right here. 

[deancasbigbang]

Title: In the Rolling Up of Sleeves

Author: Elf Barbarian

Artist: Li

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy (minor)

Length: 20000

Warnings: Major Character Deaths (Offscreen), Implied past child abuse, Alcohol

Tags: Domestic Dean/Cas, Universe Alteration from 15x19, (Basically) Established Relationship, (Basically) Canon Heaven, Serious/Angsty Failure to Communicate, Not Hurt/Comfort but Pain/Growth, They Find a Kid, Weird Dream Sequences, Magical Realism, The Unrelenting Search for Peace

Posting Date: November 9, 2021

Summary: What was that, wayward sons, about there being peace when you were done? When Cas arrives in heaven, sometime after sacrificing himself to the Empty - he and Jack realize just how wrong Chuck got it when he built heaven. And, just how much work they have in store to prepare heaven for the arrival of those they love. On earth, in the wake of Chuck’s defeat, Dean and Sam find a way to forge a life with this new world while Dean grapples with the knowledge of Cas’ true feelings, information learned too late. When they finally reconnect in heaven, will Dean and Cas finally get the afterlife they deserve - learning and building, to make the Heaven they have spent so long fighting for - or will Cas’ fears about how he escaped The Empty endanger it all? 

Excerpt: Cas is working the boundary fence when he notices the change in the air. It fills him with certainty, the truth electrostatic like a coming storm. He is some distance away from the house, he knows. Not so far that heaven could not allow him to reach it in just a few steps, but the large farmhouse - the house he forged with his own hands - is sitting nestled in the long grass and wildflowers of the fields between them. It has occurred to him several - many - times since he started tending the area, that heaven does not have the predators that prompted humanity to erect fences so many eras ago. But - as he always eventually returns to in his mind - while the post and board fence would do very little to protect against a bear or mountain lion (or even a particularly persistent neighbour), he had truly enjoyed the hours spent driving the stakes into the ground sweating against the blazing sun that heaven had selected for him that day. There was also the comfort in the physicality of the fence - in it acting as a boundary against the wilds of heaven lapping just outside - the same comfort he had taken in so many salt circles in his previous life. At this reminder of his past life, he pulls himself from contemplation to the presence in front of him. He steels himself before looking up. “Dean.” Because, of course, above all, he had found fulfillment in knowing that… if Dean were to stop by, he may appreciate it.  He hears Dean’s breath catch - feels his own too, in a call and response he cannot will his body to ignore. “Hey Cas.” Dean is soft, out there in the abstraction - his edges tug and pull. Cas pulls himself up, stepping forward and up to the fence. He feels the ether pulling at him too - scouring his hands, working the dirt under the nail loose until it brushes away, lost into the heavenly storm.  “I, ah-” Dean pauses and starts again, maybe changing his mind or maybe continuing in the same direction, just slow and uncertain. “Jack showed me ‘round. Told me what you’d been doing up here.” Dean approaches, feet loose in the air, to rest a hand on the fence, inches away from Cas’. And that fear that has been lying coiled in his guts these many years, loosens.  Too much to go into now.  “After our time on earth, heaven seemed so... out of touch with humanity. The idea that everyone existed within their own memories - many, alone, with only the past to keep them company. To think that a true heaven could exist without -” Cas stumbles through the next part, still raw, even for the decades since their last talk. “ - at least the potential to see those you loved on earth, again.” Dean’s gaze doesn’t forgive him the stumble - the weight it holds.

DCBB 2021 Posting Schedule

[talesmaniac89]

Choices - The Beginning

Pairing: Dean x Reader OR Sam x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome.  You go on a hunt with the two Winchester brothers, one of whom you love. You decide who your Winchester is and what happens along the way. Each part is a fully independently written section and no parts are copies of others, so the story can be read a full 8 different ways with 15 parts in total and 8 endings!

Total word count: 45k+ words (over 15 parts)

Triggers: Dark, torture, reader death, angst, loss, pain, blood, serious injuries, heartbreak, implied possible major character death, fear of abandonment, loneliness, hostage situation, gore (series levels blood, torture and fatal injuries)

Triggers depend on your choices, so if you are easily upset by any of the above please proceed with caution.

[Your Story Starts Here] - You’ll be asked to make your first choice at the bottom of this chapter.

Y/N = Your Name

---

“(Y/N)! Get a move on!” 

Dean’s deep voice echoed down the hallway just as you shouldered your duffle bag with a roll of your eyes. It hadn't even been 10 minutes since the call for help had come in. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’d been busy cleaning your guns when the call came, you would’ve already been out there in the library with them, ready to go. It wasn’t as if you’d been standing around fussing over which ratty t-shirt to pack for an hour.

“On my way!” You shouted back, grimacing as the heightened volume easily erased the annoyance you’d wanted to subtly lace each word with. Throwing another quick look around your room in the Men of Letters bunker you sighed at the mess. 

T-shirts and jeans were everywhere, as you’d pulled out everything to quickly stuff a few items in your overnight bag just in case the hunt took longer than planned. Not to mention the cleaning supplies you’d left abandoned on the floor from where you’d been sitting cross-legged polishing your favourite revolver.

It would all have to wait till you got back. Even though you knew you’d regret it once you made it back, bruised and stiff from the fight and the subsequent ride back in the Impala. Having to clean your room before you could fall into your bed feeling sorry for your aching bones was never fun. 

Yet, sticking to a decision you knew you’d come to regret; you got a move on before Dean could call out for you again. Swiping up your phone, you hurried out into the hallway and nearly ran straight into Sam as he came barrelling out of his own room. 

“Dean?” He asked, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a raised eyebrow a clear sign that your annoyance at being rushed was showing on your features. Though it didn’t matter, since the youngest Winchester clearly shared your irritation as he threw you a glance, underscored by an eye roll that put yours to shame.

“Yeah… Dean,” You said with a sigh as you lifted the straps of the duffle bag off of your shoulder. Attempting to bring some blood flow back into your arm from the heavy load of guns, knives, holy water and other goodies. As well as the clothes thrown in for good measure. 

“Let’s not keep our oh so righteous leader waiting then. C’mon (Y/N),” Sam smirked, teasing a small smile out of you as well. Before quickly reaching down and effortlessly snatching your duffle bag from your hands and hurrying down the hallway. If it wasn’t for your relief of having the bag off of your shoulders you would have stopped him. Reminded him that you could easily kick his ass if you went one on one. 

But, you knew that there were no hidden meanings in Sam’s gesture. He was just trying to be helpful.

You’d realised quite quickly after getting to know him that one of the things the youngest Winchester feared more than anything else was being abandoned; seen as useless or a burden and left standing in the dust. The shadows of his childhood fears were still clinging to him, little tendrils that he’d never managed to shake. Old fears from a youth spent in constant worry that his father would just drop him off somewhere and drive off without ever coming back. That, coupled with the many lost friends, lovers and hunters that had left him, willingly or unwillingly, made him try twice as hard at being of use to those he loved, every step of the way. From small kind gestures, like carrying your bag, to willingly offering himself up as a sacrifice to the big baddies of the world, in hopes of rescuing Dean, Cas, and now you.

Rolling your shoulders to shake off the rest of the strain from the bag, you pocketed your phone before hurrying after Sam down the hallway. No point in being grumpy when there were bad guys to gank. And neither of the two men in your life deserved your grumbled dissatisfaction. Both the bag and Dean’s insistence of getting on the road as fast as possible were just their own little ways of showing they cared. 

Sam was just trying to be helpful and Dean was always worried about losing another civilian by being just a second too late. And you loved them both for it. After all, one was your best friend in the whole world, while the other already secretly had your heart. Though you’d never found the courage to tell him you slipped it into his hands when he wasn’t looking. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s voice echoed down the hallway, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into your grumbled exasperation aimed at the oldest hunter. Ok… So maybe you’d allow yourself to be a tiny big grumpy until there were baddies in front of you to take it out on.

“I said I’m on my way!” You called back in a huff. Casting a quick glance at your closed bedroom door before quickly running to join the boys. Hopefully the bruises yet to come from the hunt wouldn’t make you regret your decision to leave the mess behind.

---

“So where are we headed, exactly?” You asked after about an hour’s drive and a quick case briefing from Dean. Leaning between the seats from the backseat of the Impala in a way that had Sam throwing worried glances your way for your lax seat-belt etiquette. 

“There’s a farmhouse, just 40 clicks away now, shouldn’t take long,” Dean’s voice had taken on that steely hardness it got whenever things got serious. And though the case was nothing out of the ordinary for the Winchesters and you, there had already been two reported deaths.

Which also meant that Dean had already added their names and faces to his list of sins to carry. People he could have saved if he could have somehow seen into the future. The oldest Winchester always etched the names of every lost soul into his big heart, burying them there among the many ‘should haves’ and ‘what ifs’ that weighed his broad shoulders down. He was a good leader, and a great hunter, but sometimes he cared a little too deeply. Leaving him hurt no matter how well a hunt went.

“... And put on your seatbelt (Y/N),” 

“Yeah, yeah,” 

… And sometimes he treated you like a little kid. The thought teased a wry sigh out of you. Quickly reaching out, you turned up the volume of the Led Zeppelin song that was playing, a small act of rebellion, before leaning back in your seat. Smiling innocently as Dean’s green eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror, his attempt at exasperation softened by the way his eyes crinkled in a smile. 

No matter how hard as steel the hunter tried to act, he always had a soft spot for Sam and you. To Dean, his feelings were cracks in his armour. They were the blind spots his father had told him about when teaching him to ‘always watch his back’. Yet, the man was more deserving of a family, of love, than anyone else you knew. And so, Sammy and you watched his back instead. Where he watched yours. Both of you determined for the older hunter to see you as strengths, not weaknesses.

Soldiers, shoulder by shoulder.

And, though Dean would constantly complain... You knew he was secretly happy the two of you stuck around; silently terrified of the loneliness he always tried to force onto himself by pushing others away. No matter how loudly his father’s words echoed in his mind and tried to tell him he was leaving himself vulnerable.

Letting Black Dog be your soundtrack, you watched the two most important people in your world from the backseat of the Impala. The Winchester brothers; both carrying scars from the family business they’d fallen into after their mother’s death. Each fearing abandonment and hurt in their own bruised and broken way. Both forced to give up any dream of apple pie to make the world a better place. Children turned soldiers turned martyrs, shaped into a sacrifice by a world that turned a blind eye to their suffering. Which was why you had promised yourself that you would try your damndest to give them a home, and that you would never run away from your life with them. 

Even if a certain hunter sometimes made that a hard promise to keep, as every friendly jab broke your heart at the clearly unrequited love you harboured. 

You sighed internally as you cast a careful glance in the direction of the man you’d come to love as more than just a hunting buddy or a friend, more than anything really, over the last year and a half of hunting with him. He’d probably be heartbroken to know he was hurting you, which was why you could never tell him how you felt. How your heart and body reacted, as if by reflex, whenever he was around.

Anything he did, from the smallest smile to the feel of his eyes on you, set your body on fire. In a manner not so different to what Robert Plant was promising he’d do to you as Black Dog blared over the Impala’s speaker system. And fuck if you didn’t want to echo the great artist himself and ask the man in front of you to do some not so innocent things to you whenever your eyes strayed to lips that you’d rather have on you than rambling on as they currently were about the case.

“Right… So, to make sure we’re ready…” 

---

Make your choice below to move the story along:

The man you love is speaking - who is he?

[Dean Winchester] or [Sam Winchester]

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[band--psycho]

Bucky Barnes x Reader-The Lost King(Royal AU)

A/n: This is my second entry for @girl-next-door-writes bingo writing challenge (this is probably one of the longest fics I’ve written) I hope you all enjoy it!!

Streams of sunlight began to flood into the room, the brightness of the light causing Y/n to stir in her sleep as her eyes fluttered open. Normally, she’d marvel at what a beautiful morning it was but today was different. Today, she couldn’t help but feel the dull ache in her heart as she turned to see Bucky sleeping peacefully beside her. Lightly she caressed his face, careful not to disturb what was bound to be the last peaceful sleep he’d have for a while. She tried to push the fear and worry that filled her head but in truth she was terrified, the war between their country and King Schmidts had grown fiercer and bloodier over the past few days. Bucky, wanted to show  a display of hope and strength to our people and was going to ride out to the battle with a large number of soldiers in just a small number of hours. Of course Y/n supported his decision, she knew it would give their people hope, hope which so desperately needed to be shown in these dark times but she knew what Kinf Schmidt and his men were like from the reports she’d read and the gossip that swam round the castle; these people were cut throat,ruthless and bloodthirtsy. She knew Bucky was a talented fighter, there was no denying that but still the fear that he may not return from this battle seemed to be permanently ingrained in her mind.   

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered drowsily, dragging Y/n from her thoughts. 

“Morning,” Y/n whispered before lightly pressing her lips to his. The kiss was soft but yet it seemed to convey all the emotions Y/n didn’t trust herself to say, maybe it was because Bucky knew her so well or maybe it was because he felt a familiar feeling of dread himself. He knew what he was doing was risky but it needed to be done. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know” Bucky cooed once they pulled away from the kiss, instantly seeing the sadness in her eyes. He knew that there were no words that would ease the worry from her mind so he did the only thing that he could do. He held her. He pulled her into his embrace, his hands lightly roaming over her body, not in a sexual way but in a soothing one. The pair of them stayed like that, wrapped up in each other's arms, silently comforting each other, right up until there was a dull knock at the door. Both of them wanted nothing more than to just stay in that moment but they couldn’t. It was time and they both knew it. 

“Promise me you’ll come back to me,” the pain in Y/n's voice was enough to make his heartbreak.

“I’ll always come back to you, my love,” he soothed, holding her even closer than before. 

 “Always,” he repeated like a mantra, placing a final kiss on her lips.

“I love you” 

“I love you too,” she replied back with tears in her eyes, coldness washing over her body as he pulled away from the embrace, vanishing behind the door to make his way down to the armoury.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n stood leaning against the stone railing of balcony, her gaze locked onto the horizon which she had watched the love of her life disappear into. It had been six months since she said her final farewell to the man she loved and she had been out here everyday since, no matter the weather.She remembered watching him the day he left, she had stood in this very spot, fear and anxiety plaguing her thoughts. She recalled the way the sun had glinted of his pristine armour, of the way he spoke and inspired his men, lifting their spirits from the back of his noble steed as the animal trotted along the lines.He had stopped in front, looking over the men following him as his horse pawed restlessly at the ground. His short hair was neat, every strand styled in place the way he liked, and despite the distance she remembered the spark in his eyes and the familiar smirk upon his face as the battalion of men cheered for him, ready and willing to follow their king into battle. 

He had waved to her, blew a kiss in her direction before setting off. She had stood in place for what felt like hours, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller until he vanished out of sight altogether. 

His goal and wish was for his actions to reignite hope amongst their people, and for a time it had. But it only lasted so long, they say no news is good news, but for most the disappearance of their king and his gallant men had only increased their desperation  and despair, one in particular.

“Your Majesty,” as though on que the recent bane of her existence made himself known. Sighing, Y/N turns her head towards the voice she and come to loath.

“Lord Stark, can I help you with something?” She inquired with a curt tone, already knowing what he was here to discuss with her. She had been avoiding him for this very reason, and it seems he had clicked onto her intentions. She was in no mood for this.  

She hears him sigh in response, as he, her royal advisor comes to stand a few feet behind her, “You know why I’m here your majesty. We didn’t get the chance to finish our discussion.”

“On the contrary  Lord Stark, I believe we have, on multiple occasions now. What you mean to say is that you’re unsatisfied with my answer and wish for me to reconsider my decision.” she corrected sternly, trying her hardest to maintain her composure

“I meant no disrespect my lady, I’m just saying it would be wise to-“

“To what? To marry again?”Y/N cuts him off before he can finish

“We’ve been over this Your Majesty, marrying again would protect you and it may even form a new alliance,” His words and tone felt like a dagger in her heart, how many times had they discussed this. Y/N curses herself at the feeling of tears building up, fighting to keep them in as she looks to the sky and takes a deep breath, calming herself. He was out there still, he had to be, why was it so hard for others to have faith in him.

“You’re talking as if he’s dead,”

“I cannot even begin to understand how hard this is for you-“

Pity, his tone reeked of it, if she turned to him now she knew she’d see it plain as day upon his face. He spoke to her as though she were a child, one that needed coddling and protecting. She knew the kingdom needed a king, they needed security and an heir and she had been doing her best. For him above all else. He had done so much for her, he had given her his life and his heart and in turn she had done the same and she refused to give up on him now. 

“He’s not dead, he’s out there somewhere.” Lord Stark merely sighed in response to her again, though this time there was an irritated tone to it. She could tell her stubbornness was annoying him, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, he had pushed her past that months ago.

“I understand your need for hope.” 

She couldn’t help but let a humourless laugh slip past her lips as she turned to look at her advisor. Head high and shoulders back, she knew he would see the redness in her eyes, but above all else she wanted him to see her determination and strength. Approaching him, she mutters, “Hope which you should share for your king.” Not giving him a chance to say anything else, Y/N walks towards the doors to the balcony, hope lost was as good as admitting defeat, in accepting that that which you have faith in no longer invokes to inspire you. Bucky deserves more than that.,”

~~~~~~~~

Lord Rogers, much like Y/n refused to believe that the king was dead.. Regret and guilt tended to fill his mind when he would search him, he hated that he didn’t go with him to the battle. Ever since they were boys, the two of them would always be there for each other, protecting each other from foes. As a young boy, Steve didn’t have the best life, but Bucky was always there to defend him and no one would dare harm a prince, those that dared to try normally ended up flat on their arse. When Bucky inherited the throne he gave Steve a title, land and with that came some long overdue respect. But inheriting the throne led to Bucky having to face harsher foes than just the local bullies and of course through every battle Steve was there, protecting his friend the same way Bucky had protected him for all those years before. This time it was different though, Bucky insisted that Steve stayed at the castle to keep an eye on Y/n, to protect her if anything happened to him in the battle. It worried him but he also understood Buckys reasoning so didn’t try to fight him on the matter.Steve spent days at a time searching the surrounding forests and mountains for any sign of the king's survival, only returning to the castle to check on the Queen, knowing she, like him, was struggling. But hers was for a different reason, he knew she was being pressured by her royal advisor, Lord Stark to re-marry and it pained Steve to admit it but Lord Stark had a point, their country was vulnerable without a king, Y/n was an excellent queen, there was no denying that but men from other lands failed to show her the respect she deserved without a king next to her. Steve knew Bucky was alive, he knew in his heart that he was alive,they were like brothers and he Steve was determined to find him.

Steve was riding through the woods on the border of the land, it was an area he hadn’t been to since the king first went missing. In the distance Steve saw another man on horseback, instantly his guard was up, prepared for the possibility of an attack. A few seconds passed and the figure started to become clearer but the man fell off his horse before Steve could make out any detail or features of the man. Steve dismounted his horse almost instantly and made his way over cautiously toward the man. As he got closer to the figure he noticed the all time familiar features of his best friend; his hair looked long and matter, his clothes were torn and he was covered in blood. Worry flooded over Steve’s face as he knelt down next to Bucky, letting out a small sigh of relief when he realised the blood wasn’t Buckys. Carefully he picked up the king's unconscious body and placed it on his own horse before bolting back to the castle.

~~~~~~~

A frustrated sigh left Y/ns lips as she entered her bedroom. She’d spent most of the day trying to calm the Lords who were getting more agitated by the day as well as dealing with the constant hints Lord Stark was making about finding a new suitor. She hated this. She hated being like this, passed around like she was a piece of meat to any king that would help the country. She knew in both her head and her heart that she would never remarry, if Bucky wasn’t found then she would rule the country alone like she had been doing with the hope that sooner or later the Lords would respect her the way they did Bucky. She all but collapsed on the bed she once shared with Bucky, her eyes slowly drifted shut as she got lost in the memories of her and Bucky. 

Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone burst through the door, to her relief though it was only Steve. However his boldness was something that caught her attention, normally Steve was such a gentleman and would always wait to be summoned into the room. 

“Steve? Are you okay?” She asked, confusion racing through her brain as her eyes scanned over Steve, searching for answers. 

“I found him,” those words were enough to have Y/n darting out of her bed and grabbing her robe before following Steve to the infirmary, a mixture of anxiety and relief filling her her thoughts. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she first saw him in his bloodstained clothes, she instantly thought the worst. She thought he was dead. But when she saw his chest slowly rising and falling she felt relief wash over her. He was alive. All of those months of waiting for him and he was here. He was really here, back with her. Hours passed and Y/n was still sat by Bucky's side, not wanting to leave his side ever again, she never wanted to let him go ever again. A few more hours passed before Bucky's blue eyes slowly fluttered open. Shock and terror filled his eyes when he first opened them, until he saw Y/n's face, as soon as he saw her face he felt all of the pain and terror fade away. He slowly raised his hand to her face, trying to work out if he’d wandered into a dream, but this felt more real than any dream he’d had in the months that’d passed. 

“You’re safe, you’re home,” Y/n cooed, stroking some of the stray strands of hair away from his face. Her voice was  soft and sweet just like he remembered it and at her touch he felt like he was being brought back to life, like all the terrors of the past six months hadn’t happened. 

“You came back to me,” she soothed, caressing his face as she lightly placed her forehead against his. 

“Of course I did,” Bucky whispered, moving his head slightly to press a kiss onto her palm, “I had a promise to keep.”

(Credit to the gif owners)

Tag List: 

@sarcasticallywitty15 @abadamn @wiccanmetallicrose @little-diable @xacatapelsyx @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares​

[sortasirius]

Baby’s

Don’t look at me I’m so fucking emo

I want this for Dean so bad

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Words: 1079

Dean never realized how much cleaning went into owning a bar.

He’s spent a lot of time in bars, and more often than not they’re greasy, crusty, smell like cigarette smoke and sweat and stale beer.  But not his place.  Nah, Baby’s is gonna be clean, with one of the shiny bars you always see in movies, with a ton of beers on tap.  It’s a place he’s always dreamed of, obviously, since Michael stuck him there when he was in control, but he tries not to think about that.  Those memories were hazy anyway.

He found this place by accident, maybe the last of Chuck’s luck, maybe the universe throwing him a bone.  (He has saved it a few times, after all).  The place is perfect, right in the middle of Texas, so he has the blazing summers to look forward to, but he can do without the winters in Kansas, so it’s a fair enough trade.

It’s an honest to god roadhouse, the perfect mix of bar and home, especially with the apartment situated above it.  The whole place needs some serious TLC, but he doesn’t mind.  For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have anywhere else to be.

He fixes up the little garage first, taking the tools he had scrounged from the bunker and from his own supply when he left and storing them carefully in the backseat when he leaves for the last time, taking a long look in the rearview before he matches Sam and Eileen’s tire tracks and turns the opposite direction.  He strips the wood, sands it, clears it of debris and weeds and trash, spends his first days at the new place outside in the sun, listening to his favorite songs on Spotify from his phone.

Finally, after five days, his first of many projects is done.  The garage is fit for a queen, which is, well, perfect really.  Dean parks the Impala and covers her carefully in a sheet.  She’s finally semi-retired.

He heads inside, hoping against hope that the pipes wouldn’t rust out on him and he can get a good shower.

“How’s it look?” Cas looks up from his place at the bar, where he’s in a ratty t shirt that’s already covered in wood stain, scrubbing the bar with so much vigor that Dean is kinda scared it’ll snap in half.

“It’s done.  She’s parked.”

Cas smiles at him, and Dean can’t help but return it with everything he has. 

He had thought, maybe, that Cas would want to go out on his own, being human and everything now.  Looking back, that was kind of stupid, but Dean had felt like he was twenty pounds lighter when Cas had slid into the passenger seat of the Impala saying nothing but,

“Where to?”

They spend the next six months fixing the place up from seam to seam, from the rotted floors to the dingy bathroom, to the apartment upstairs.  With their sweat and blood and ten thousand trips to Home Depot, they make the place into something that has only ever lived in Dean’s dreams.

And as they clean and repair and replace and build, that thing that he had always tried his best to force into the lowest, darkest part of himself.  That thing with Cas.  That was allowed to grow.  It was more natural than anything else.  More natural to lean over a beer and kiss Cas than it was to start the engine of the Impala.  Something that was a given, never to be questioned again.

“What’s the name?” Sam asks over the phone one Sunday morning, while Dean organizes their first ever liquor shipment and Cas tries to figure out how to put a tap together.

“I was thinking Baby’s.”

“For the Impala?” he can hear Sam’s smirk through the phone.

“Yeah...and for Dirty Dancing too.”

One last homage to Lee, even after everything.

“Wow, chick flick king over here,” Sam laughs, “Well, Eileen and I found a great little place up in Montana, you and Cas should come visit when you get a break.”

“We won’t ever get a break,” Cas cuts in, rolling his eyes and huffing in frustration, “He’s already got us working eighteen hour days.”

“What can I say, I’m a business owner now,” Dean winks at Cas, who’s mouth lifts at the flirtation.

“Well whatever, you should come see the place when you get the chance.”

“Will do Sammy.  I’ll talk to you next week.”

“Sure thing, bye man, bye Cas.”

Dean doesn’t really expect much business.  They are a little...off the beaten path, but they’re close enough to a small town that they get a few curious locals who quickly become their regulars.  And those regulars bring in people who bring in people who make Dean and Cas busier than they ever were as hunters. 

Dean’s crowning achievement is the purple neon sign, with pink and deep blue accents, that they set up above the place.  Baby’s.  His place.  He swells with pride every time he looks at it, and doesn’t even complain when Cas makes them switch sides of the bed because it bothers his eyes at four in the morning.

They have to hire two more bartenders in six months, and Dean suddenly feels like a real owner.  He loves playing bartender and slinging drinks much more than the boring paperwork, but Cas helps him with that.  They’ve always made a great team.

Dean feels like he spends most of his free time cleaning now.  If he was downstairs, he was always armed with a bottle of disinfectant spray and a dishrag.  Cas calls him a germaphobe.  Dean says he’s not and then kisses Cas to prove it.  Cas just shakes his head and goes back to wiping glasses.

Dean doesn’t realize it until about a year in, but he looks around at the bustling place, with pool tables and foosball and classic arcade games that Dean bought for a song and fixed up himself, with the line of craft beers he’d always wanted, with Cas by his side, throwing his head back at a joke one of the regulars is telling, Dean realizes that he might be really, truly happy for the first time in his life.

And it was all down to a roadhouse.

Dean finally gets the piece of Heaven he’s always deserved.  Funny enough, maybe fitting enough, it just happened to be here on earth the whole time.

[bippityboppitybibuck]

lil birthday ficlet in honour of Jack turning four, set after 15x19, the finale doesn’t exist, Cas is back from the empty (Jack brought him back), Jack zapped himself into a preschooler after the whole saving of the world thing was over with and now he gets a dinosauor themed birthday party. wc:1100

Dean’s hiding in the pantry when Cas finds him. Head down, practically on his knees on the tile, he paints himself into a stark contrast from the fearless hunter he spent his life growing into.

“Dean, what on earth are you doing in here?” Cas asks, confused.

Dean’s not exactly jumping at the chance to lay it all out there so he shrugs and stumbles through a reply. “Just grabbing some supplies, the party’s really getting going. Wouldn't wanna run out.” He doesnt turn around, and Cas doesn’t make him.

“Dean, everything we need for the party is on the counter. Sam did all of that hours ago. What’s really going on?” His tone’s gone so gentle it grates against Dean like more force than should be possible. That anger he’s so used to rumbles just below the surface, and he wants to reach for it because it’s easy, it’s safe, it's comfortable, but Cas used his dying moments to tell him that he was wrong about himself and he’s been trying desperately for that not to all have been in vain.

“He’s four.”

“I know, it’s hard to believe isn’t it? So many years gone by so quickly,” Cas says almost wistfully. Dean barely hears him.

“He’s four and he’s so little and he needs us so much, and he gets nightmares about the wars he’s had to fight while he’s wearing damn footie pajamas. He’s four.” Dean turns then, sitting down against the shelves with his hands propped on his bent knees, he doesn’t look Cas in the eye.

“Are you thinking about your childhood?” Cas asks as he joins Dean on the floor. They face the same direction, Dean’s glad for it, less pressure to look at Cas.

He scoffs, neither mention how wet it sounds. “We lost Mom when I was four, Dad started carting us all across the country when I was as little as Jack. And I can’t stop thinking, why didn’t he love me enough to take care of me. Why did he turn me into a soldier, why didn’t I get to have the birthday parties and school trips and playtime at the park where I ran screaming from girls because they had cooties. Why couldn’t he look at me and see the same thing I see when I look at Jack? But then I think: how different was I really from him?”

“Dean you can’t-” Cas starts.

“Cas don’t give me that shit. I turned that kid into a soldier the second I could. Sure he looked like a college freshman but he was days old, and I didn't hesitate to use him like my old man used me. But now, now I look at him and that ridiculous gap in his front teeth and how he’s a fucking magnet for stains and I don’t understand how my dad could have seen me like that and decided that I didn’t deserve a childhood.

“Y’know, I read my dad’s old journal. Read it like it was a fucking bible. Seventeen days after Mom died, I watched my dad put a bullet in a shifter’s head, and that was just the start. He felt bad, after I saw that, but it wasn't enough to make him stop.” Dean feels his throat constrict around itself, some scars never fade.

“Dean you are not your father. And I don’t know about Jack but I do not fault you for your actions. Jack aged himself up because he knew the world wasn’t safe, he knew that he needed to be able to fight. As horrible as it sounds, Jack knew his purpose before he was born. Had you and Sam not been there for him Jack would have been lost, easily found by the angels who wanted him dead or the demons who wanted to corrupt him. The fact that you look at him now, now that he’s aged himself down to an average human four year old, and can’t fathom raising him the way you were, proves that you couldn't be farther from your father. You are a good man Dean, despite all the hell that's befallen you. And you did not deserve the life you had or the pain you’ve suffered.” There's such a vehemence in Cas’ voice. It doesn't get rid of the pain in his chest, but it lifts it a little.

They sit in silence for long stretches, the sounds of the party just barely filtering into the small space.

“Kelly would have loved to see him like this,” Dean says eventually, smiling a little. Cas takes the topic change in stride because he’s just good to Dean like that.

“She really would have. To know that Jack brought forth peace like she was told he would, and then to have him get to live a child's life too. It's more than I think she ever could have hoped for for him.”

Cas fidgets beside him as they sit in silence again. Like there's something about that day he knows they aren't talking about. It's not hard to figure out what after talking about Kelly.

“Y’know the hardest thing about that day was losing you,” Dean confesses quietly.

Cas looks at him with his brow drawn down, almost as though he hadn’t expected Dean to remember that in the same moments Jack was born he had to watch Cas die.  

“Mary fell into an alternate dimension with Lucifer and you ended up with an adult infant, Dean, don’t be absurd.”

“I’m not Cas, I know that I didn't give you some big speech when we got you back… well any of the times we got you back but you gotta know that it messed me up. Jesus you seriously don't know how much I need you just to function like a normal person. Sam can attest to it Cas. You die and he mourns, sure, but I lose it. I'm sorry I never showed you how much you meant to me back then.”

“It’s alright, you show me enough now. Now come on, it’s definitely not fair for us to leave Sam and Eileen alone with all the party duties.” Cas stands and holds out a hand for Dean to grab. Even after he’s securely on two legs Dean doesn't let Cas’ hand go. 

“Let's go see the birthday boy.”

They aren't outside a minute before Jack runs up to them, his wide sticky smile, painted into a dinosaur Dean couldn’t name if his life depended on it, directed right at the two of them rambling on about the bouncy house and his friends from the neighbourhood and the cotton candy machine Dean wasn’t able to talk Cas and Jack out of booking. 

He’s small and vulnerable and happy and he’s four and even though he knows the pain Dean knows, he’ll never have to experience it again. Dean vows to make sure of that.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Sin

Created for: @ilysm-mybabybrother

Pairing: Dean x Reader / Sam x Reader / Dean x Sam 

Warnings: Dub-Con 

Additional tags: Cuckolding, Dirty talk, Praise kink 

Word count: 2,076

A/N: Written for my @spnsecretsantaficexchange set up by my bae @negans-lucille-tblr as a present for the lovely @ilysm-mybabybrother (who I’ve been a long time stalker of, nbd). They requested something smutty with dirty talk / praise kink / cuckolding / and the brothers touching each other - potentially with Demon!Dean or BoyKing!Sam - I’ve gone with Soulless!Sam - I hope that’s still okay! I think I managed to work all the other kinks in there... Anyways I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas 🎄

Dividers: @firefly-in-darkness 

Dean hadn’t let himself imagine this moment. 

When Sam jumped into the pit with Lucifer riding shotgun, Dean made himself accept that. Bobby came back, Cas came back, but when Sam didn’t appear with them, he had to let him go. He promised he would let him go. 

He kept his promise. He found a job in a garage in Texas. He wooed a girl who brought in a car that sounded like his old neighbours in Hell were trapped under the hood. He picked her up in the Impala and dropped her off on her doorstep with a kiss and a promise to call; and he actually called her. They weren’t living together, but they spent most of their time at each other’s apartments. Dean taught her a bunch of ways to doctor up boxed mac’n’cheese, and Y/N taught Dean how to mix cocktails with cheap whiskey that actually made it taste nice. The earth was still turning. 

But now it had stopped, because Sam was standing in front of him, dripping in holy water and cut across his arm - not a monster or a demon, it was Sam. And Dean didn’t care that he got wet too when he pulled his little brother in for a bone crushing hug, because nothing could be wrong again now that Sam was back in his arms. At least, that’s what he’d thought two hours ago. Because now, as his wrists were getting rope burn and his ears were ringing with Y/N’s soft whimpers he knew something was wrong. Something was very wrong with Sam. 

“Wow, Dean,” Sam had exclaimed when he introduced him to Y/N, who had been cooking dinner when he showed up at Dean’s door. “He’s lucky he met you first, darling.” Sam’s eyes dragged up and down her body hungrily, and Dean was taken aback because that was not like Sam at all. Usually Dean was the horndog between the two of them but, I guess you would get pretty horny being dead for a year, Dean reasoned to himself. He remembered that feeling, after he got back from Hell, of wanting something to really make him feel alive again. It would just be nice if Sam didn’t use his girlfriend to feel that. 

But as the evening progressed, and dinner turned into drinks, and beer turned into liquor, Dean felt more and more like he might not get a say in the matter. Sam was all over Y/N, flirting harder than Dean had ever seen him flirt, and way better than Dean remembered him being at it, come to think of it. And Y/N wasn’t turning him away. She was laughing and smiling and getting him another drink, and being the perfect goddamn housewife all while Dean was sitting there watching the two of them. 

And then when Y/N brought him a refill on his whiskey she shot Dean a look that he’d only seen once before, when she’d asked if they could take home the cute waitress so Dean could watch. Back then, Dean had thought he had the best damn girlfriend ever. He essentially got a front row seat to one of his favourite pornos. But the thought of her sleeping with Sammy... Dean wasn’t wild about that one. Except he didn’t know how to say that to Y/N and Sam, so he just kept drinking and hoped it didn’t come up. He wasn’t so lucky. 

He tried to step in, when Sam put his hand on Y/N’s thigh and dug his fingers in - Dean gritted his teeth and choked out a cautious “Sam…” but the warning died in his throat when he looked into his little brother’s eyes and saw empty determination and cold hunger. He didn’t see his brother. “Y/N get away from him!” Dean shouted and reached for the knife stashed in the end table next to him, but Sam was faster, drawing his own and shoving it threateningly under Dean’s chin. 

“Whatcha doing there, Dean?” 

“What are you?” 

“I’m your brother,” Sam teased, lips curled in an ugly imitation of Sam’s warm smile. 

“What happened to you down there?” Dean demanded, because if this was Sam, something changed - something was different. 

“Oh so much, big brother,” Sam laughed but there was no emotion behind it. “Learned a few things too. How ‘bout I show ya?” And now Dean’s hands were tied above his head with his own goddamn rope on his own goddamn bed, while Y/N was laid out between his legs with her head on his stomach as his own goddamn brother went down on her. 

“Mm, you’ve got such a good little pussy, sweetheart,” Sam sighed, sucking on her clit and pulling a whine from her lips. Y/N’s breath ghosted over Dean’s naked cock, making it twitch despite his best efforts to be disgusted at what was happening right now. “Hope Dean’s been giving this cunt the attention it deserves.” 

Y/N whimpered a little, but didn’t answer, prompting Sam to slap between her legs. “My brother been treating you good? Giving you enough cock to keep a pretty thing like you happy?” 

“Yes,” Y/N gasped, clenching around the fingers Sam had just pushed inside her. “Yeah he’s good - mmh - so good to me,” she moaned. 

“Yeah?” Sam sneered, twisting his fingers to push against Y/N’s clit and make her writhe. “What’s he best at? I’ve always wondered when I heard the moans from the next room.” 

“Sam…” Dean complained, finding his impertinent big brother tone despite the situation he was in at the moment. 

“His mouth,” Y/N sighed, happy to answer despite Dean’s protest. “I love his mouth, it’s so soft… and when he kisses you, it can take your breath away.” 

“How romantic,” Sam smirked. “Always knew Dean was a bit of a softie deep down.” 

“Fuck you,” Dean growled, pulling uselessly against his restraints again.

“Ladies first,” Sam laughed, and pulled his fingers from Y/N and sucked them clean, eyes boring into Dean’s while he swallowed his girlfriend’s slick. “Turn around baby, get on Dean’s cock,” Sam directed, landing a slap on Y/N’s ass when she turned and crawled over Dean. She shivered when she pressed his cock against her entrance, pulsing down slowly, working him inside her bit by bit. 

“Oh look at you,” Sam cooed, brushing her hair off her shoulder so he could bite into her neck, pulling a moan from her chest. “Such a good girl teasing him like that, I didn’t even have to tell you to.” Y/N smiled to herself as she finally got Dean fully seated inside her, revelling in the stretch and fullness of it all. “How did Dean manage to find such a good little slut, huh?” 

Y/N giggled lightly but didn’t say anything, just rolled her hips, drawing a gasp from Dean, whose eyes were squeezed tight in pleasure. Y/N felt so good around his dick. And he hated to admit it but he was in fucking heaven right now. This was so, so wrong but it was so hot, every other thought was being pushed out of his mind for the moment. He just wanted Y/N to keep moving, and he wanted Sam to keep talking. 

Sam wrapped his fingers around the back of Y/N’s neck and shoved her forward, so she was lying chest to chest with Dean. “Give her a kiss Dean. It’s her favourite after all,” he teased. Dean wanted to find some retort to throw back at his brother, but Y/N’s lips were swallowing his before he got a chance, and he decided this was a better use of his breath anyways. 

They kissed and licked and moaned as they ground together, Sam watching on and stroking himself lazily. He reached one hand forward and drew lazy patterns on Y/N’s ass which was bouncing so nicely on Dean’s cock. Sam bet it felt amazing to be inside her. “Mm, you’re fucking him so good, Y/N,” Sam praised, petting his hand down her back. “Look so hot with a cock inside you.” He crawled forward and draped himself over the couple, bumping his hips into Y/N’s and grinding against her ass. She moaned happily and fucked back harder, trying to rub against Sam as much as she could without pulling off of Dean. 

A choked whine slipped through her lips when Sam’s cock caught between her cheeks and nudged at her other entrance. “Oh,” Sam grinned at her reaction and repeated his motion, pushing against the taut, puckered skin. “You have more in common with Dean than I thought.” 

“What?” Y/N panted, confused and distracted by all the sensations she was swimming under. 

“What, Dean never told you? Never asked you to fuck him up the ass?” 

Dean’s eyes shot open, horrified. How did Sam know? 

“You didn’t really think I didn’t know, did you, Dean?” Sam smirked, still rubbing himself against Y/N’s ass, but letting his fingers trail down further, skating over Dean’s inner thigh, making him jump. “You told me about Rhonda Hurley and the panties when I was sixteen, but I knew that wasn’t the whole story. I found the strap on after you picked me up from Stanford. How many girls you given it up to, big brother?” 

“Fuck you,” Dean ground out, mortified. 

“You know what, I just might,” Sam drew small circles with his fingertip the whole way across Dean’s skin until he reached his target. “What do you think, Y/N, should I give your boyfriend what he wants?” 

“God yes,” she gasped, riding Dean hard, head buried in his shoulder. 

Sam spit on his fingers and pressed them back against Dean’s ass, teasing his hole until it was nice and slick and he could slide a finger in without too much resistance. Dean was tense, trying to fight what Sam was doing, trying to fight wanting what Sam was doing, but he didn’t think he was strong enough. Sam’s finger twisting inside him actually felt amazing. It had been over a year since he’d let anyone fuck him and god, he had forgotten how fantastic it was, feeling this full, this whole. 

Sam felt Dean accept what was happening, felt him relax around him, and took that as his cue to add more spit and another finger. Then another. He pulled them out when he felt Dean was ready and tugged Y/N back so she was sitting up against his chest. “You ready to cum, darling?” He snarled in her ear. 

“Mmhmm,” Y/N whined, bouncing faster over Dean, but Sam hoisted her off his brother and sat her down between his legs where they’d started. 

“You’re gonna get my cock nice and wet, aren’t you baby? Gonna be good and cum all over my cock?” 

“Yes, fuck yes, please,” Y/N begged. Sam slammed in place inside her and didn’t hesitate before fucking her at a furious pace, rubbing his thumb over her clit and pulling scream after scream out of the girl writhing beneath him. He felt, with satisfaction, a surge of heat between her legs, and knew her cum was trickling out from between her thighs. 

“Good girl,” Sam huffed, cold smile firmly in place. He pulled out and looked down to see veins of white dripping over his skin. “Got me nice and wet for your boyfriend, good job, sweetheart.” Y/N rolled out of the way, sated and dazed, and anxiously watched Sam climb over Dean and rub his cock between his legs. 

Dean groaned, eyes pressed tight, trying to pretend he wasn’t about to let his little brother fuck him. Trying to pretend he didn’t desperately want his little brother to fuck him. But when Sam pushed in he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t love it. It felt so different to having a dildo in his ass, and it was so much better. It was warm, flesh and blood; his flesh and blood. When Dean clenched around him, Sam moaned and thrust harder into his brother. Dean loved how responsive he was, and did it again, earning himself another thrust. 

“Think you’re being cute?” Sam panted and glared down at Dean, who smirked up at his little brother with his last vestige of self-respect. 

“I think I’m adorable.” 

“And I think you’re gonna regret that.” 

[theramseyloft]

Pigeon rescue being shut down for “Keeping nuisance animals” needs help finding homes for their birds.

From Tutu.Pigeon’s instagram;

https://www.instagram.com/tutu.pigeon/ 

Hi everyone, I don't even know how to write this post and my heart aches saying this. Our next door neighbors complained about the availability in our backyard and the Garfield NJ health department came to shut us down. 

We have a week to re-home our beautiful rescues and I've been working night and day to find them new homes. 

I've been summoned to court for the following violations: 1. Keeping of animals considered a public nuisance, 2. Having a coop that's too close to my home and the neighbor (needs to be 25 feet or more away), and 3. Having a wild bird feeder that is open. 

Apparently, we needed a permit to have the pigeons and the city is not allowing me to remedy the situation and apply for a permit. 

We do not have enough room in the yard to move the aviary (it has to be taken down) and as renters, our landlord would not be happy about all the pigeons in the home. We are cornered, and it is another reminder that people really do not understand or appreciate pigeons. 

How can animals inside their cage bother anyone? We are heartbroken and will do whatever possible to keep Tutu as a pet. 

We have been blessed to have people step up to help us, and we are arranging to drive all over the United States to find the birds placement in sanctuaries. 

If you would like to support us in any way, please donate to our fundraiser (link in bio) so we can make the necessary trips to Vermont, Oklahoma, and other neighboring states. It will be multiple days of driving but our beautiful rescues deserve another chance. 

Thank you all for the love you've shown us and we will continue to run this page as best we can. I think there is much work to be done to fix people's perception about pigeons and so so many innocent animals that need saving. 

Our disabled pigeons have been granted temporary asylum upstate NY while they find forever homes. As I write this, Beaker, Doll, Minion, Slate, Ally, Dove, and Farble (our disabled pigeons) are on their way to a new life. 

10/3/20

Hi everyone, I wanted to update you on our situation. We are still actively re-homing our beautiful birds. Yesterday, 7 of our disabled/sick pigeons (Beaker, Ally, Slate, Dove, Minion, Farble, Doll) were transported upstate NY to a safe haven while we find permanent placement. The wonderful Sue from @themiafoundation is taking care of "The Jersey Seven" and set them up in their own beautiful room where they are comfortable (pic 9 and video 10). You probably already know of Sue, her pigeon and puppy combo have won the hearts of many! (picture 8). Yesterday were able to find a great home for our beautiful one-eyed Grover with @pidgey.fred. Grover immediately went on her new mommy's shoulder and I believe she's probably still sitting there 😆 We have lined up more permanent homes for our pigeons but still have 16 pigeons that need placement. We are planning our multi-state trip and need your support to make this happen. There are people interested in adopting our birds in California, Washington, Florida and Oklahoma. If you can support us, please donate to our link in our Bio. We appreciate everyone's help and support thus far. You have been so very kind to us. The GoFundMe link is new, specifically for re-homing, so I can share updates on there about our trip. If we can make this happen, you will be able to see pics and videos of our destinations and the Pigeon's new homes. ♥️

10/5/20

Today we say goodbye to our aviary, and the so many beautiful moments we have captured. I'm blessed to have crossed paths with these beautiful creatures and been able to save them. I will keep fighting to secure them a good life, we will not give up on them. Our babies have struggled enough in their early lives and I can only hope they will all find loving homes. Thank you for your donations, it means the world to us. Please continue to support us on our GoFundMe (link in Bio). We are also blessed to have a friend who is taking the aviary and our babies until we can adopt everyone out. This buys us some time. You have all been so generous with us. Even though at moments it doesn't feel like it- the world does have good people and when we stick together we achieve the impossible.

10/15/20

Hi everyone, just wanted to update you all on the aviary takedown and this entire situation. We have successfully relocated the aviary to our friend's home a few hours away. It took us two days of taking it apart, getting some help with the lifting and then reassembling it at it's new location. It was a stressful time for the birds as they spent most of this time in their boxes and carriers. Their new safe haven is quiet and beautiful with lots of other animals such as chicken and ducks roaming in a private yard. If you recall, this is the place we rehomed Sophie (renamed Quinn) when Tutu couldn't get along with him. The last pics and videos show the aviary that Quinn lives in with friends. Our birds are being kept at this location while we secure safe homes for them. Our friend is very kind and is making updates to the aviary to make it more spacious, since the birds are a bit cramped. Here, we had an indoor room that they used as well. In the video you can see that we installed a smaller cage to the end of the aviary which the birds seem to be enjoying. With regards to adoptions, we have secured a handful of new homes and even found a great person in CA willing to adopt most of our babies. Our special needs birds such as Beaker remain upstate and have vet appointments coming up. Dove (the beautiful white wedding release bird) has been successfully rehomed after recovering from her sickness. This week we are planning to rehome in NC and GA and are driving down from NJ. Next week we will rehome in CT. Finally, we still need to raise enough money to take the week long trip to CA.

10/16/20

Hi friends, our babies are being pampered in their foster home. We've installed an extra flight cage to make them more comfortable since they've been a bit cramped in the aviary without their indoor room. Look how everyone is settling in. We estimate that it will be a few weeks before we can make our CA trip where almost all of our remaining birds are being rehomed. We still have 6 birds upstate recovering and not yet ready for adoption. Recently Dove (the wedding release pigeon) was adopted out! For us to make the Cali trip, we need to reserve an RV since it's roughly 5 days of driving each way. It will be quite impossible to check into a hotel with our birds. 😅 We will also need the room for several cages and to be able to clean the cages and keep everyone happy and fed. We need to purchase more cages and pads. The rental costs $200 a day, plus gas/tolls. We have donations saved but estimate we need another $1,700 to make this trip happen. Please help us by donating or sharing our GoFundMe campaign (link in Bio).

10/17/20

Rehoming Trip Day 1: We are driving South to North Carolina today and rehoming some of our turtles in a beautiful pond setup (we've rescued 13 turtles through the years). @tani.turtle. We will then continue down to South Carolina where we should arrive by midnight. We are driving 12 hour days this weekend. Tomorrow we plan to rehome another turtle and also our pigeons in Georgia before heading back up to SC again for the night. Day 3 will consist of driving back home. In the meantime, we have tons of cameras set up so we can keep an eye on everyone at home and so we can talk to Tutu through the monitor. Thank you all for chipping in and help us fund our trip down South. We plan to make a couple trips to rehome more locally in Connecticut and keep saving up for our Cali trip which should conclude our rehoming. From there we will continue to place our special needs birds as they complete their recovery. 

We have quarantine spaces open here at The Ramsey Loft, if needed, but they seem to have fosters covered and, understandably, they would prefer their remaining pigeons to go straight to their adoptive homes.

If any one is looking to adopt a pigeon, please contact them via  Facebook messenger (https://m.me/yazmin.feliz) instagram page (@tutu.pigeon), or text�� 646-705-8047

[purplebearsoul]

This is just something I had on my mind before Acosf came out. Nessian is perfect and they deserved a mating bond, but I just thought it would be incredible too if they chose each other inspite of a bond. I really hope you guys like it.

Nesta had been pacing in that stupid room for hours. Her head was spinnig, her heart racing because of the unwanted discovery. How could that stupid autumn court brute be her mate? And, even worse, be claiming her as his property?

She felt her powers begin to surface...

Someone knocked at the door and dragged Nesta out of that spiral.

_Come in.

Cassian opened the door carefully. His gazed was meticulously looking for any signs of injury on her body, and when their eyes locked, Nesta could swear he looked right through her into her soul.

_Rhys is taking care of..._ he paused in search for words._Well, he and Feyre are dealing with everything. In the meanwhile , we're supposed to stay in the Court of Nightmares.

_Great_ she spat out.

_Can I get you anything?_ he asked.

She looked at him. At his broad shoulders and powerful wings, his unbound hair... The most handsome man she'd ever seen. While she stared, memories of the nights they spent together invaded her mind. The feeling of his body against her, his mouth trailing her skin, his fingers assaulting her repeatedly. Nesta knew she would never feel the way she did around Cassian.

_Stop, Nesta.

The way he said it, his arms crossed and jaws clenched, told her Cassian was restraining himself.

_Why?_She took a step towards him.

_Because I don't know what I will do if you keep thinking what you're thinking.

_Maybe I want you to do that, Cassian_she laced his name with a promise that he could whatever was on his mind.

The distance between them was less than an inch. Nesta put her hands on the illyrian's chest, trailing his shoulders, then his features, and finally settling on his silky strands.

_We can't, Nes_he whispered.

_We've done it so many times.

She aligned her lips with his, breathing in his snowed and lushed scence. When his hands closed at her waist, Nesta sighed with relief. Nothing would change between them.

_It's different now._ And before she knew he pushed her away.

_Why? Why the fuck this stupid bond has anything to do with me?

_Eris is your mate, Nesta_ Cassian said, his eyes gleaming with fury_ It may be something stupid to you, but it is sacred to fae, especially an arcaic bastard such as Eris. You're his and his yours, and maybe you don't feel that now, but trust me, you will.

_The only thing I feel for him is disgust.

And it was true. Nesta despised Eris, for what he did to Morrigan, for every hedious word he hissed at Cassian or Azriel, and it would not be a ridiculous notion that they were made for each other that would change it.

_Fuck, Nesta!_ Cassian's siphon flared_ Do you think I like this? I've already begged the Mother, the Cauldron, the damn gods for it to not be real. I can't_ his words got caught in his throat_ In my fucking soul, I know this is wrong, it simply shouldn't be like this._ He took a step towards her_ I can't bear the idea of not being able to see you every day on the ring or in the library reading one of your smutty books_ they both laughed at that_ Or not hearing your laugh... oh gods.

He droped his fored to hers. Nesta eyes were closed, but she opened them when she felt Cassian's body trembling. And she saw he was crying. The most feared, brave, powerful fae, the General of the Illyrian's Army was crying because he thought he'd lose her. And that unlocked something inside Nesta.

She hugged Cas close. He let go of his weight for a while which made them tumble. They ended kneeling in front of one another, their bodies pressed close, sharing the same breath, hearts beating as one. Oh gods, that felt so right. It was an intamacy she'd never shared with anyone.

_Cas_she his name softly_ Look at me.

Cassian's hazel eyes perfurated hers. In those green and brown hues she saw sorrow, fury, regret, and something soft, tender...

_This bond with Eris was something chosen for me_she said putting a hand on his cheek_It was never me. I would never choose him, or anyone else, Cassian. From the second I laid my eyes on you I knew. You were, are, and will ever be the one I chose. I'll reject Eris and a thousand more males, because none of them is you._ Nesta paused to look at him one more time._ I love you, Cassian. I'll only, ever, love *you*.

Cassian's chest heaved, and a violent sob came through him. His calused hands squeezed Nesta, pulling her closer, as if he wanted to fuse them together. She heard him whispering her name over and over again.

_Nes, Nes, Nes_ another sob escaped him_Please, tell me this is real, that you love me. Please, Nesta.

She knew that the need to reassurance had nothing to do with her which broke her heart into tiny little pieces. Cassian needed to hear that she chose him above everyone and everything else. Because all he heard, since he was a babe, was that he was a bastard, below the pure blood warriors, lessened by those who should've nurtured him. He only found love after Rhys and Az. And now, her.

_I love you, Cassian. The Mother, the gods and the Cauldron can all go to hell if they think I'll let them make me love anyone else but you.

_You're fucking perfect_ he said looking deep into her eyes_ I love you, Nes. I love you so damn much.

When he kissed her, she expected despair and hunger. Instead Cassian was tender, thourough, kind. The kiss was the seal of everything said between them. And a promise. I love you, and only you, forever.

[shirtlesssammy]

4x10: Heaven and Hell

Then:

TFW needed a little work before they got it right

Now:

We start off right where we left off in the last episode. The angels are here for Anna. She has to die.

Uriel attacks Ruby and Dean tries to stop it. Cas starts walking towards Sam, and despite Sam’s pleas, he boops him into unconsciousness. Suddenly there’s lights and Uriel and Cas are zapped to places unknown. (Cas’s wings in the flash...emotion hearts). They find Anna with a ridiculously severe wrist wound and a mysterious sigil on the mirror written in her blood. She sent them away. 

They hide Anna away at Bobby’s. Dean and Ruby bond over hex bags. It’s almost cute.

Um, Bobby’s not home because he’s in the Dominican (and I just Googled “Hedonism and Dominican” ... probably shouldn’t have). Anyway, Sam’s got exposition on Anna. This bought of psychosis isn’t her first. When she was a toddler, she was convinced her real father was “very mad -- like wanted-to-kill-her mad.” Anna interrupts their little chat. 

Sam asks her why the angels want her. She has no clue. She’s upset that her parents are dead and her life has been turned upside-down. They need to find out what her deal is. 

Enter PAM! 

(I know I’m technically not supposed to like that bit of sexual harassment but her exchange with Sam is SO funny and cute. He’s so earnest and they play the victim card with her, but she ain’t having it and she’s going to have some fun at Sam’s expense.  And Dean’s smile at the end, JOY.) 

Pam introduces herself to Anna and sets to hypnotizing her. She asks about Anna’s father and Anna freaks out. Dean tries intervening and gets knocked out. Pam wakes her and Anna remembers who she is. “I’m an angel.” 

Pam and Ruby are side-eyeing this “friendly” angel. Turns out Anna was Cas and Uriel’s boss in angel-land. She disobeyed, which is the worst thing an angel can do (WEEPS for future Cas.) She ripped out her grace and fell to Earth. Now Heaven and Hell want her. She’s determined to get her grace back. 

“So you’e just going to take some devine bong hit, and shazam, you’re Roma Downey?” Ah, Dean, you do have a way with words (Also, dude loves pop culture SO much that Touched By an Angel is on his radar. BLESS THIS BOY.) 

Sam remembers reading about a meteor about 9 months before Anna was born and Ruby responds, “You’re pretty buff for a nerd.” Get a room, you two.) 

For Real Life Jesus They’re Cute Science:

Ruby apologizes for getting Sam involved with this war. She’s afraid of Alistair too. He’s no joke in Hell. She tells Sam he should send Alistair back to Hell, but he’s got to practice to do it. Sam refuses. 

Anna’s star gazing when Dean returns from taking Pamela home. Dean asks Anna why the angels saved him. Dean then asks why she would want to be human. He lists all the bad things about the human condition, and she lists all the good. 

Ultimately, it’s the emotions of being human that matter so much to her. Obedience and emotionless faith is overrated. Only 4 angels have ever laid eyes on God (Well...five now!) Anna complains about watching over Earth, waiting for order from a father who might never return, and Dean laughs and laughs. I really love how Anna’s story shifted to Cas. Dean and Anna give each other looks, but Sam, in all his glory, interrupts. He’s found something!

They head off for a tree in Kentucky that is probably the place where Anna’s grace fell. 

They get to the tree and Anna can sense that it’s not there anymore. Someone took it. 

Later, Anna’s listening to Angel Radio and hears the angels say that if the Winchesters don’t turn over Anna, they’ll throw Dean back in Hell. Dean is speechless, but Sam wants to know what kind of weapon works on an angel. Dean’s in freak out mode --they need to find an answer. 

Later, Dean’s reading a book by flashlight and Anna approaches him to thank him for all that they’ve done. He brushes her sentiment aside. She ponders the thought that she doesn’t deserve to be saved (AND I need to stop and talk about how this parallels Cas in Purgatory...he thanks Dean for everything, he believed he didn’t deserve to be saved. BLAF. And Dean and Anna are more canon than Dean and Cas? I think not.)

Dean lets slip that there’s something he deeply regrets as well, and Anna takes the opportunity to reveal that she knows what he did last summer - er, in Hell. He crumbles when she tells him to forgive himself. (Narrator voice: and then he spent ten more years failing to do exactly that.) 

“You are not alone,” she tells him and I remember why I like her (before a later plot twist scrubs her away). Anna MAKES A MOVE and kisses him. It IS their last night on Earth, after all. (I quietly eat the script pages for “Free to be you and me” while simultaneously high-fiving Anna for her excellent taste.) 

Cut to a montage of Impala sex which cuts out all the bits of sex in a car where you’re crammed in a corner awkwardly trying to get off your clothes without kicking the other person. Anna touches Castiel’s handprint, laying her own over the lines of his fingerprints. And I know that it was likely just a way to set up the Dean-is-connected-to-Heaven parallels in this brief shining moment when both boys actually had non-dead love interests at the same time. But MAN it sure cuts me open now. 

Ruby watches Sam sleep, then heads out to a crossroads. She burns her protective hex bag and Alistair appears. 

Ruby offers to give up Anna in return for her and the Winchesters’ safety. Alistair has another proposal…

Uriel greets Dean back in the barn. Dean looks confused for a moment before he realizes that Uriel has invaded his dream so they can have a little chat. Commander Cas isn’t around - “You see, he has this weakness. He likes you.” Uriel reveals that he has Anna’s grace. But nya nya nya he won’t give it back. 

We cut to Ruby, naked and strapped down as this show is wont to do with its demon women. Alistair tortures her with the demon knife. She refuses to tell him where Anna is...but she will show him.

Back in the barn during waking hours, Dean drinks his feelings until the doors burst open and Uriel and Castiel arrive.

Sam demands to know how the angels found them, and Castiel glances meaningfully at Dean. 

Anna realizes the deal that must have been brokered: herself in exchange for Sam’s safety. We experience many sad close-ups of Dean’s self-hatred and it HURTSSSS. Anna kisses Dean and assures him that he’s forgiven.

Anna’s ready to face the angels at last. Cas apologizes, but she brushes it aside. “You don’t know the feeling.” First of all, Anna, rude.

For This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us Science:

Alistair shows up in the barn with his demon goons. The Winchesters, Anna, and Ruby skedaddle to the fringes of the barn, leaving the angels and demons to posture toxically at each other. 

Fisticuffs ensue! Alistair pins Cas, growling Latin at him until Dean whacks him in the head. Anna takes advantage of the fight to have her Ariel moment.

She orders everyone to close their eyes as her own fire consumes her. It blasts Alistair away, and Castiel gently pulls Uriel away as well. Everyone congratulates themselves for their excellent plan to pit the demons and angels against each other. 

Later, Sam and Dean recap their feelings at the Impala. 

For Rural Roads Science:

Dean brings up something Alistair said during the fight - that he “had promise.” I finally remember during this rewatch that Dean’s been denying what happened in Hell all along. Dean starts to talk. “It wasn’t four months,” he begins. “It was more like forty years. They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you-- Until there was nothing left. And then suddenly I would be whole again. Like magic. Alistair at the end of every day - every one - he would come over . He would make me an offer to take me off the rack if I put souls on. If I started to torture. And every day I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For thirty years, I told him. But then I couldn’t do it anymore, Sammy.”

“I got off that rack - god help me I got right off it - and I started ripping ‘em apart.” The weight of the torture he inflicted presses down on him. Sam tries to reassure him, but Dean continues to rip out our hearts and leave them cold and gathering refuse in the gutter. “How I feel? This inside me. I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.”

Dean Quotechester Deserved Better:

Any chance I can dick over an angel, I'm taking it

What do they want me for? Why did they save me? 

Feelings are overrated, if you ask me

When you got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass, best to get out of their way and let them fight

I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[3pirouette]

Fic: Not One Thing (1/1)

Title: Not One Thing

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Peggy and Steve set things straight after she shoots at him. Set During CA: TFA

A/N: For Steggy Week Day 2: Favorite Moment. Who doesn’t love when she shoots him? I love it. So, here’s the missing scene, because during my re-watch I noticed that the first time we hear him call her Peggy was right after Private Lorraine kisses him. Then we go from her shooting him to the bar after Bucky dies, then right to the super sexually charged “You’re late,” at the Hydra facility. This… fills that in? Maybe? Hopefully.

~*~

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

Peggy hightailed it to the ladies’ room after she put the gun down, forcing the emotion welling in her throat to stop before it became tears in her eyes. She took a deep breath as the door swung closed behind her, offering her some much-needed solitude.

She’d been fooling herself, obviously, if she’d dreamed that Steve Rogers was different. If his sharp wit and calculating mind appealed to her, that didn’t change the fact that he was a man, and seemed all too happy to get into the same trouble every man she’d ever met got into.

Hadn’t this been what he wanted, to be just like every other man?

She pressed her hand on each of the toilet stall doors, letting them swing open to be sure she was alone before she set her hands on the sink and tried to slow her pounding heart. She looked up at herself in the mirror and felt the pain morph to disgust.

And yet, she still spent two weeks’ pay on that damn dress.

She thought she’d sent a message last night. She didn’t know how much clearer she could have been.

“Get it together, Carter,” she whispered to herself, pushing away from the sink. She should have known better. She should have expected it. Even the way he stuttered at her after he was caught, calling her Peggy instead of Agent Carter, bringing up fondu… he had no idea how to talk to women, but it certainly seemed to knew how to kiss them.

She might not have been so mad about it, except she was the one hoping to be kissed by him. Dreaming of it. Fantasizing about it. She had been since he was thin boned and she was worried she’d break him if she crawled into his lap to kiss him senseless.

Peggy knew better. She’d been burned before. She shouldn’t have put all her hope in one endearing man.

She turned, pushing her way into a stall and began to unbutton her skirt when she heard the door swing open again.

“Wait, so tell me now!” The soft voice was unfamiliar to Peggy, and she couldn’t see through the stall door. She sat quietly, fully dressed, hoping to be ignored.

“Well,” a much more animated voice started, low and deep like honey, “so I start saying that all the women owe him their thanks, right?”

Private Lorraine.

Anger and frustration and betrayal welled up in Peggy’s throat, and she swallowed hard as quietly as she could, afraid of giving herself away.

“Uh huh, go on!”

Peggy can just about see Private Lorraine preening in the mirror through the crack. “And he’s all cute and nervous, hemming and hawing, so I just grabbed his tie, pulled him back into the stacks, and laid one on him.”

“You didn’t!” the other woman exclaimed, excited and scandalized at the same time.

Peggy rolled her eyes. Lorraine had a reputation around the base, as did most women if the men’s talk was to be believed. She wasn’t interested in lambasting the woman any further, deserved or not. She was, however, quite interested in whatever the woman had to say next.

“I did.” There was satisfaction in her words.

“And?”

“And what?”

“And? How was he?”

“Fine.” She could see Lorraine shrug and turn back to the mirror. “I caught him off guard. He wasn’t into it.”

“No! You can’t be serious.”

Lorraine hummed. “I mean, he’s probably a good kisser, but I couldn’t get him warmed up enough to find out. Carter interrupted us.” She sighed.

“Maybe you should try again.”

She laughed heartily. “Oh, if you saw the way those two bickered after she caught him? No. No way am I getting in the middle of that. Would have been a catch, but I’ll let him go. I’ve still got my eyes set on Washington in the 5th Airborne.”

The two chatted on, leaving the bathroom after getting the gossip out. Peggy just sat for a long, long time.

~*~

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

He shook his head, trying to find a way to keep her voice from ringing in his ears.

It didn’t work. He didn’t think he was going to get any sleep tonight.

The connection they’d had was tenuous, at best, and he’d thought it was all in his head until she showed up with that red dress on. When she’d uttered those words, “the right partner,” his heart had skipped a beat, finally feeling on steady ground. Bucky, of course, had a few things to say after she left. What Steve hadn’t anticipated was spilling the whole story to Bucky over another pint, detailing from the first punch he saw her throw at Hodge to the backseat of the car in Brooklyn, from Fondue to the red dress.

“Jesus,” Bucky had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re hopeless.” He laughed. “Still the same idiot I left back in the States.”

Steve had looked at him, confused.

“She likes you, stupid.” Bucky laughed, and tipped his head to the door she’d come through now hours ago. “You don’t put on a dress like that for someone you don’t like.”

“She just stopped in,” Steve stuttered. “I’m sure she was going to see other people.”

Bucky had looked at him, hard, and he knew he was kidding himself. Then and there he decided that the little looks, the light flirting, the line he was afraid to cross, absolutely needed some crossing.

Unfortunately, Private Lorraine had crossed a line first, and he was left as confused as when he’d started.

“I don’t think one thing, Captain. Not one thing.”

He couldn’t get it out of his head, couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d well and truly messed up.

Her shooting at him had been a pretty clear sign of that.

“I can hear you thinking from over here.” Bucky moaned from his own bunk. “How am I supposed to get any sleep with you thinking that loud?”

“Sorry, Buck- I just—”

“So, Lorraine kissed you. You know how many guys on base she’s kissed?” He laughed, folding his hands behind his head. “Pretty much all of them.”

Steve leaned back and fluffed his pillow. “I don’t think that makes it any better.”

“No, probably not.” Bucky laughed. “Steve. Just put on your big boy pants and tell her how you feel, ok?” Bucky turned at look at him. “I’m telling you, that red dress means she’s all in and you just gotta let her know that you are, too.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

~*~

He caught her in the hallway outside her office, the building mostly empty for the night as she went to lock it up. She caught his eyes and turned, opening the door again and holding it for him to follow in after her. She shut it and crossed her arms, waiting silently.

He spoke after a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Peggy’s tone was flat.

Steve nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Yeah, I—” He looked down and then back up, earnestness written on his face. “I’m bad at this. You were right, when you said I don’t know anything about women.”

Peggy looked away and then back. “I often am.”

He nodded gain, taking a breath. “She kissed me, Peg, and I froze. I didn’t know what to do.”

Peggy fought hard to avoid laughing. She might not be so quick to amusement if she hadn’t heard Lorraine’s side of it this morning. “So, you kissed her back?”

He cringed, knowing the words that were going to leave his mouth were the truth, but not what she wanted or needed to hear. “Yeah it—it seemed rude not to.”

Peggy did laugh, then. Big, loud guffaws that she couldn’t hold back. “You kissed her back,” she asked through the laughs, “because you didn’t want to be rude?”

Steve couldn’t help it, his eyebrows wrinkled and he shot right back at her. “Hey! I’ve never had a girl grab me by the shirt and kiss me before! I didn’t know what the protocol was!”

Peggy couldn’t help but keep laughing. “Protocol? Proto—” She chuckled, the laughter finally settling down. “You push her away and say no thank you, Steve.” Peggy took a deep, high breath, still letting out little twitters as she gained control over herself.

Steve, however, was still incensed. “Peggy, it’s not funny.”

She tried very hard to not laugh again, breathing in deep through her nose. “Oh, yes it is.”

He stepped forward, getting closer to her. “I’m trying to apologize here.”

She cleared her throat and stood tall. “Yes, yes. You’re…” She took a deep breath, then had to bite her lip again. “You are. Yes.”

“Peggy,” he reached out, taking her hands, and he caused her breaths to stop and her to bite her lip in a different way. “I don’t want to kiss Private Lorraine. What happened was a mistake and I’m sorry you saw it, but… I don’t want to kiss anyone but you. Just you.”

She started breathing again, her eyes bright and holding his gaze. “Steve…”

“You’re the right partner, Peggy. I just… I didn’t think someone like you could be interested in a guy like me in a million years. But when you showed up last night in that dress…” he drifted off, eyes glazing as he remembered and smile blooming on his face, “Well, Bucky says I’m an idiot, but I’m an idiot who got the hint.”

She smiled brightly. “It was quite a large hint.”

“I’m… bad at this,” he confessed, squeezing her hands gently. “I don’t have a lot of practice and sometimes you’re gonna have to just hit me over the head with things.”

She took a deep breath and puller her hands away, sliding them up his arms to his shoulders. “Then let me hit you over the head with this. I don’t want to kiss anyone but you, either. And I’ve felt that way for quite a long time. Serum or no serum, soldier or dancing monkey.” She let her hand play over his collar as her demeanor turned hard. “But I’m no fool, Steven, and if you’re serious, as I am, I won’t aim at the shield next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” he replied quickly and seriously, taking her hips in his hands and pulling her close.

Peggy smiled just a bit, looking into his eyes, hopeful. “Promise?”

He smiled back as her hands slid around his neck. “Promise.” He lifted one hand, letting it push a strand of hair back behind her ear. Their breaths mingled for a long moment, and Steve spoke quietly, a half-smile on his face that Peggy couldn’t decipher. “So, does this mean that I can kiss you now?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “If you don’t, I shall have to really hit you over the head.”

He moved almost before she finished speaking, slanting his warm lips over hers. It was mere seconds before she was melting under his kiss. A little unpracticed, a little unsure, but what he didn’t have in technique he made up for in enthusiasm. If she’d had any doubts before, she knew now: he hadn’t been lying, he didn’t want to kiss Private Lorraine. Steve wasn’t just a fine kisser, he was a lovely kisser.

And now, he was all hers.

[green-blue-heller]

Look What You Made Me Do (Cockles FanFic)

Title: Look What You Made Me Do

Pairing: Cockles (Jensen x Misha)

Fandom: Supernatural RPF

Rating: GA

A/N: Part of my 500 follower celebration. This was based off a prompt by @dolphindiluna.

If you want to send me a prompt based on the theme, coming out, check out my pinned post.

Words: 2729

Read on AO3

Jensen stood on the stage, Robbie and the boys of Louden Swain behind him, music pumping into his earbuds as he smiled at the roaring crowd. A wave of panic filled him as the opening notes of his intro music sent the crowd into a frenzy, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

In the back of his mind, there was a voice screaming at him to turn around and leave the stage as quickly as he could. That would be the smart thing to do. Especially since his stunt was about to lead to career suicide.

But as he glanced to his right, he caught sight of Misha and the smile on the other man’s face took his breath away. With a shy smile, he looked down at his feet for a moment.

You can do this, Jackles.

It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision that brought him up on stage during the con’s Saturday Night Special.

It started out as something he wanted to do for Misha. Which was totally the wrong reason to want to do this. But he’d had such a hard time after the show ended.

Truthfully, he’d been having a hard time the last couple of years, and Jensen knew he hadn’t made things easier. Misha had never shied away from his sexuality, while Jensen had still very much been in the closet except for a few close friends.

But the whole Destiel thing had been like watching a trainwreck you just couldn’t look away from. The network and studio handled things badly and forced Misha to take the brunt of it, even though it wasn’t anywhere near the scope of his responsibility.

But he did it.

And Jensen hated it.

There had been a few bigwigs in charge who hadn't known but highly suspected that Jensen and Misha had been an item. It wasn’t like they really hid it on set, but they didn’t flaunt it either.

Misha called their remarks whenever they were on set or at a con, a microaggression.

Jensen took his word for it, as he really had no clue, other than that Misha meant it was homophobic, even if they didn’t seem to be on the surface.

So, he wanted to do something for Misha. To show him that he was loved and appreciated. And that he was committed to him, even with the show being over.

Misha and Danneel were his forever. And he never wanted either of them to forget it.

He had spent long hours over the last couple of weeks leading up to Vegas Con, talking it out with not just Misha, but with Danneel and even Vicki. They, along with the kids, were his life. And he would never make a rash decision, especially a possibly life-altering one, without consulting them first.

But they understood what he wanted. And what it could mean for all of them.

And they were all ready to stand by his side, no matter what he chose.

So, two months after he first got that cursed idea, he found himself on stage, in Vegas for the first time since the show wrapped up.

What a clusterfuck that had been. He knew it was bad as soon as it had been pitched. There were too many ways that things could go wrong by the time they got to the finale. And boy, did they ever go wrong.

Not that he was against Dean and Cas ending up together.

Jensen snuck another peek at Misha and smiled to himself. No, he definitely did not mind Dean and Cas ending up together. They deserved to be as happy as he and Misha.

The only problem was that, as he suspected, by the time push came to shove, no one was able to pull the trigger.

They’d cocked the gun and pointed it, had Cas confess, but then the execs at the studio were on edge over the dailies they’d been sent. With a global pandemic knocking on their door, they were afraid to go with anything but sticking to the status quo.

Except the show had been anything but status quo for quite some time. They were just too slow to realize.

He knew some of it was personal bias but that most of it was business. Though they managed to screw up even that.

But he was at the con, and he was going to do what he could. For everyone involved who deserved some vindication. They deserved to know they weren’t crazy.

Jensen took a deep breath and looked out at the crowd and gave them the most charming Dean Winchester smile he could manage.

And it sent them wild.

“Hey, guys!” When the crowd cheered their own greeting back at him, Jensen grinned.

With another deep breath, he steeled his nerves and mentally nudged himself forward. This had been his idea, and he still knew and agreed that it was the best idea, but that didn’t make him any less nervous.

Especially since he knew he was about to piss off the studio execs who were footing a large portion of the bill for his and Danneel’s production company.

He was almost certain he could kiss that goodbye.

“Look, I know there has been a lot of discourse since the show ended, and even more questions. I wish I could give you all the answers you’re looking for, but I hope that tonight, we can clear some things up.”

He knew it wasn’t a lot, but he wanted to be able to give the fans as much as he could, as much as he was comfortable with.

“Wow,” he said with a chuckle. “I haven’t been this nervous up on stage in a long time.”

He grinned at Rob as the music morphed and the opening bars to a Taylor Swift song kicked into his ears.

Part of him felt stupid. This was a stupid song for him to sing. But it was fitting.

He didn’t like to be backed into a corner, nor did he like his loved ones to be put into uncomfortable positions. And that had happened with most of them since their twelve-to-fifteen-year tenure on Supernatural ended.

Jensen knew he made a lot of mistakes in the last decade, and tonight he planned on correcting some of them.

A cleansing breath went through his lungs as he caught sight of Misha again, who flashed him a grin and a thumbs up.

He could do it.

He needed to do it.

Misha deserved it.

Jensen deserved it.

Their wives deserved it.

He opened his mouth and as soon as he started to croon out the first line, his voice low and smooth like a fine whiskey, the fans erupted into such a frenzy. Jensen thought might never stop grinning.

“I don't like your little games

Don't like your tilted stage

The role you made me play of the fool

No, I don't like you

I don't like your perfect crime

How you laugh when you lie

You said the gun was mine

Isn't cool, no, I don't like you”

As Jensen finished the first verse of the song, he felt his confidence grow. He’d practiced - a lot. He knew what he was doing and he trusted the band to be there for him and back him up as they’d rehearsed.

They’d smoothed out some of the music, made it more fitting to his vocal style, and the crowd erupted as the music morphed into what was more likely to resemble a 90’s rock ballad than a Taylor Swift song.

In the back of his mind, he thought it was a little sacrilege, but he’d never admit it out loud.

“But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time

Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time

I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined

I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me-

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me do”

Jensen soon found himself bopping his head along with the crowd.

With a grin, he turned and strode over to Rob, who shook his head with a hearty laugh.

“I don't like your kingdom keys

They once belonged to me

You asked me for a place to sleep

Locked me out and threw a feast (what?)”

This was it.

His moment.

Their moment.

Jensen is no longer looking at the crowd. He’s all but forgotten there is even anyone else there as he continues to sing without even thinking about it.

How could he think, when he found himself lost in the perfect storm of those blue eyes that stared back into his green ones?

He moved with purpose as he marched across the stage.

“The world moves on, another day another drama, drama

But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma

And then the world moves on, but one thing's for sure

Maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours”

And in one swift motion, he pulled Misha, who had taken his outstretched hand, and pulled him out on the stage and Rob picked up the vocals and sang the chorus.

They had taken a few steps back when they let go and Jensen’s hand reached up to cup Misha’s face while his left hand, which still had his microphone, snaked its way under his boyfriend’s arm and wrapped around his back.

Jensen gently pulled Misha against him, who complied, putting both his hands on Jensen’s hips as their lips met and lazily molded together.

They fit perfectly.

Kissing Misha wasn’t even something Jensen had to think about, it just came as naturally as kissing Danneel.

He was sure the crowd was going crazy, but all he could hear was the whimper he elicited from his boyfriend as their lips parted and Jensen’s tongue caressed Misha’s.

“But I got smarter

I got harder in the nick of time (nick of time)

Honey, I rose up from the dead

I do it all the time (I do it all the time)

I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined

I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!”

Jensen pulled away, hand sliding down to Misha’s shoulder, breathless as always when Misha is near.

“I love you, babe,” Jensen whispered as he looked into Misha’s shining eyes that threatened to spill tears. Because even though he knew what Jensen was planning, it was real, at that moment, and Jensen could see that it was hitting Misha harder than he could have imagined.

His heart swelled as he moved his hand from cupping Misha’s shoulder to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him into a hug.

As he turned their bodies to face toward the crowd, Jensen smiled, his own teary eyes taking in the crowd that had gone wild, and dropped a soft kiss onto the top of Misha’s head.

With a grin, he stepped back and glanced over his shoulder to see Rob grinning at him. He threw the other man a wink as he gave a nod of appreciation for all his support and love not only given to him, but to Misha.

As he turned his gaze back to the crowd, a wicked grin spread across his face as he tilted his head at Misha, who was still securely snuggled into his side, and brought the microphone back to his mouth.

“Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me-

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me do”

Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle into the microphone as he caught Misha’s eye roll. Of course, the older man thought he was being over the top and more protective than he needed to be. But he also knew how much it meant to him.

The look in his eyes, at the unshed tears and the smile that went on for miles, was all Jensen needed at that moment.

He knew he made the right decision. His family was more important than some job. There were plenty of things he could do besides acting or having a production company, if it actually came to that.

There was the Family Business Beer Company, there was Radio Company, not to mention the profits they turned from renovating houses and flipping them. And it wasn’t like the studio or network could now retroactively go back and undo the contract he already had for residuals from the show.

Jensen tried to swoop in and steal a kiss, but Misha let out a shy laugh and playfully pushed his face away as he gave one of his patented not-so-subtle winks. He immediately found himself letting out a chuckle as he let his arm fall from Misha’s shoulder and took a step forward, really paying attention to the crowd for the first time.

They were on their feet still, and going wild. All the bright lights from the cameras snapping pictures was a little much, especially since there wasn’t supposed to be flash photography, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain about anything at the moment.

As the bridge was about to kick in, he motioned with his hand for the crowd to join him.

“I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams”

He was grinning like a loon as he dropped his arm to his side, but he really didn’t care. Especially as he made his way back over to Misha and slid his hand home within Misha’s. They were a perfect fit.

“(Ooh, look what you made me do)

(Look what you made me do)

(Look what you just made me do)

I'm sorry

But the old Jensen can't come to the phone right now

Why? Oh, 'cause he's dead (oh)”

He knew he’d get in trouble for it later, but with a dramatic flourish, Jensen held his arm out in front of him and let the mic fall to the stage.

What were they going to do? Fire him?

As Jensen stared into the endless pools of Misha’s blue eyes, he didn’t really care what they did anymore.

He was going to do what he wanted, what felt right . And not let anyone else tell him differently.

And at that moment, all he wanted to do was kiss Misha.

His movement caught the other man by surprise, as he reached over and put one hand behind his back, and one behind his head, and gave him a slight dip before he leaned down and claimed his lips.

When they came up for air, they didn’t even realize there was anyone else in the room. They only had eyes for each other as they reached for each other at the same time, took each other’s hand, and walked off the stage as Rob and the band finished out the song.

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me-

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me do

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me-

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me do

If you want to be added or taken off my tag list, please let me know either in the comments or via a DM.

@dolphindiluna @kristina710

[dickspeightjrs]

Hope (2.2k words)

sequel to Despair (I’d recommend reading that first, it’s only short)

Chuck had been defeated.

Cas was still gone. 

Those were the thoughts going through Dean’s head since the day they managed to remove Chuck from the universe for good. 

As usual for Dean, he kept on a front for the sake of Sam and Jack. He showed his relief at Chuck finally being gone, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he was overwhelmed with a fresh onslaught of despair. 

The day Chuck died, everyone who he had taken appeared outside the bunker. It seemed as if Chuck had been playing with them like toys and dropped them as he met his demise in the warded bunker dungeon. 

Dean, Sam and Jack had stepped outside the sheltered door of the bunker to find a sea of people going on for what seemed like miles. Many of them were strangers who were innocent to the reason for their disappearance. But peppered around were also their friends and family. 

Bobby. Charlie. Donna. So many more. 

Only, as he scanned through the array of faces, Dean couldn’t help but be more and more disappointed that Castiel wasn’t among them. Why would he be? His death wasn’t anything to do with Chuck. Though it didn’t stop Dean hoping. 

It was a few days until everything settled again. 

The boys helped people return to their homes and tried to give them an explanation that wouldn’t be too traumatising. Sam had led the way - he seemed born for it, being a leader. His soft demeanour despite his towering height made people warm to him. Especially compared to Dean’s stormy face and body language. 

Jack still stayed quiet most of the time. Poor kid was taking Castiel’s death hard. Dean honestly regretted being so tough on him at times. He regretted saying Jack wasn’t family. He was. Of course he was. Castiel loved Jack like a son and that made Dean love him now too. 

There were times during the busyness of the bunker that Dean and Jack’s eyes would meet and he’d give Dean a look that told him that he was thinking of Cas too. That he missed him too. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the people inhabiting the bunker were gone and it was left in a more calming silence. 

Donna and Charlie had just left together, both giving Dean an extra hard squeeze as they said goodbye. He knew what the hug was for and he was grateful neither of them had brought up Cas while they’d been there. Dean didn’t know how he would have reacted. 

Once the two women were out of sight, Dean hunched even further into himself and mumbled to Sam that he was going to bed. He didn’t care that it was the middle of the day. He was exhausted and needed refuge from his thoughts. 

Sam responded with a look of shock, which Dean wasn’t surprised by. Dean hadn’t slept properly - as properly as a hunter could anyway - since Cas died. Instead, he’d fall asleep in the library while he’d been looking through lore books. 

(Sam and Jack thought he’d been helping to look for ways to bring down Chuck but he’d actually been looking up anything that might even slightly mention the Empty. He’d thought he’d been secret about it until one day he woke up to find a new book on the table next to him, open to a chapter on a possible way to summon the Empty. Dean didn’t know who put it there, Sam or Jack, but he was grateful for their quiet support.) 

Dean trudged tiredly to his room. Truthfully, he’d been avoiding it ever since Cas died. It wasn’t even like they’d spent much time in there together but he couldn’t handle being alone in a space that was meant to bring him joy and comfort knowing that he’d never see Cas again. 

He’d never had the chance to feel the angel lying next to him and yet he missed it with his entire being. 

Dean’s head ached with a consistent, dull pain. It had been constant since he’d started visiting the woods to speak to Cas. He’d only been back there a couple of times but the night before they killed Chuck, Dean had vowed to Cas that he’d do it and get it right this time. He still looked around for any sign that Cas had heard him but there was nothing. Only the beginnings of a throbbing headache. 

Blinking slowly and shaking his head slightly to try to relieve the pain, Dean finally collapsed onto the bed and let sleep take him. 

Sleep started as a dreamless slumber but, at some point in the night, he felt that same pain again like a punch through his brain. It woke him up, panting and sweating, but when he sat up the pain was gone. And with no memory of what he could have been dreaming about, Dean lay there fighting the spindled fingers of sleep around his mind, determined that he’d never sleep again if it meant not having to feel that pain. 

Of course, it was impossible to maintain having no sleep, even for Dean Winchester - King of sleep deprivation. 

The minute Dean fell into a deep sleep he would be shocked back awake with a burning pain in his head. 

This continued for almost a week after Chuck’s death. Until one night, when Dean shot up in bed, sweat cooling on his skin, he remembered. 

He’d dreamt about the woodland clearing he’d been buried in when Cas had returned him from hell. The dream felt so real it was like he could smell, touch, taste the Earth around him as he ripped himself from the ground. 

Cursing his mind for adding to his never-ending torture, Dean left his room and got himself some coffee from the kitchen - determined not to let himself fall asleep again until he absolutely had to. 

Dean reached his breaking point a few days later. 

He’d been tired and irritable, snapping at Sam and Jack whenever they so much as looked at him. Knowing he couldn’t continue living like this, he let sleep take him once more, bracing himself for the inevitable pain. 

The pain came, but not before Dean saw fleeting images of the woodland again. Only this time, it was like he was a bird flying high above and he could see fallen tree trunks arranged in almost perfect circles. And in the centre was a figure, a person, hunched over on bent knees as if they were praying. 

The person moved to stand on their feet and as they were about to turn a white, burning heat coursed through Dean’s head. 

The pain didn’t shock Dean anymore but the recurring image of the hunched figure replayed in his mind. 

Dean thought what he’d been seeing in his dreams had been disjointed memories of the time he pulled himself out of that grave. But it couldn’t have been. There was never anyone else there when he’d risen to the surface. He’d walked for miles with no soul in sight. 

So who was this hunched figure? Why was Dean dreaming of them? 

And why was every fibre of Dean’s being telling him to get in his car and drive all night until he reached that very spot? 

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, Dean climbed out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen. 

When he arrived he was surprised to see Sam sitting at the table with a pot of coffee, freshly brewed if the rolling steam coming off it was anything to go by. 

“What’re you doing here, Sammy?” Dean asked, taking a seat opposite his brother. 

Sam pushed a cup of coffee towards Dean. “Waiting for you.” 

“Okay… trying not to be creeped out that you’re sat waiting for me in the kitchen at 3AM…” Dean replied. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been avoiding me and Jack for weeks now. And I noticed you come in here at night sometimes. So I took a chance tonight.” 

Curse his brother for knowing him so well.  

“I don’t know what to tell you, man.” Dean shrugged.

“How about the truth?”

Ha. There was no way Dean was ever telling Sam the truth. If nothing else, Cas deserved to be the first person Dean told about his feelings. And if he never got the chance to do that, well, the secret would die with Dean. 

But Dean really did want Sam’s opinion on the dreams he’d been having. Telling Sam about the dreams didn’t count as telling him the whole truth, did it? 

Dean cleared his throat. “I’ve been having these… dreams, I guess.” He sighed. “I just keep seeing the forest where Cas left me when he raised me from hell. But it’s not a memory because it’s like I'm seeing it from above and there’s this person there.” 

Sam nodded, encouraging Dean to continue. 

“I don’t know if I’m just going crazy but it feels real. Like something deep inside me is telling me that this is important.” Dean avoided Sam’s gaze. “And I get these pains in my head, it’s fucking agony.” 

After a few moments of silence, Dean raised his head to meet Sam’s eyes. 

They held nothing but warmth for his older brother. 

“Look, Dean, I know you haven’t told me and Jack the whole truth of what happened when Cas d-, when he left, but I know more than anyone what it’s like to lose someone you love.” 

Dean felt all the blood in his body rush to his face.

“Come on, Dean. You can’t be surprised that I know how you feel about Cas. Anyone who has ever seen you two together knows that you’d tear apart the Earth for each other.” Sam stated, simply.

Suddenly, Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t deal with this knowledge that apparently everyone had known about his and Cas’ mutual feelings before they even did. 

He got up from the table and stalked to the door, trying to stop his hands from shaking. 

Sam just let him go but just as Dean was about to escape to the quiet of his room, he spoke up. 

“Dean?” Sam asked, waiting for Dean’s attention to turn back on him. “Those dreams you’ve been having? I don’t know if it’s the same but I just know that I thought the visions I had of Jess were just dreams and I’d hate for you to make the same mistakes I did.” 

Dean swallowed and nodded once at Sam before exiting to his bedroom. 

Within the hour he was hurtling along the highway in the Impala. 

*  *  * 

Dean’s skin tingled with electricity as he approached the clearing. He hadn’t been back here since that day all those years ago. 

He didn’t know what he hoped to find. For the entire journey there, he’d second guessed himself a million times but ultimately he had to know. 

He had to know if he was simply going crazy or if this was some kind of sign of something else at work. 

Finally, he made it to the large expanse of fallen trees. The electricity running through his veins increased as he spotted a figure sat in the dead centre, curled in on itself. 

His heart raced to a speed he would surely die from but Dean kept carefully placing one slow foot in front of the other. 

Until he heard a crack under his foot. 

He looked down to see that he’d stepped on a twig, which snapped under the pressure, sending a ripple of sound across the clearing. 

The hunched figure went ramrod straight where they were. 

Dean swallowed and continued walking ahead. 

Only, he was stopped in his tracks when the figure turned, a slow agonising turn. 

Dean felt sick. He’d come this far thinking, hoping, praying that this would somehow be something that led him back to Cas. But what if he had come all this way only to be disappointed? He didn’t think he could handle the heartbreak. 

Taking a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes and stayed rooted to the spot. 

“Dean?” 

Dean felt euphoria storm through his every atom. 

He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Castiel, angel of the lord, standing in the middle of fallen trees, staring back at Dean like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. 

Wasting no more time, Dean broke into a sprint, running faster than he was sure he’d ever done before. 

Self-doubt tried to battle its way through, telling him that this was a trick. Castiel couldn’t possibly be back. But he ignored it. 

Dean could have been running into the arms of a devil in disguise and he’d still do it just to have one second in Castiel’s embrace. 

When he reached Cas he pulled the angel as close to his body as could be physically possible. 

“Dean.” Castiel spoke again. And, god, Dean could have cried hearing his name come from the lips of his beloved once again. “Dean. I’m sorry.”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, still holding Cas tight in his arms. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.” 

“I just didn’t know what else to do.” Castiel sobbed against Dean’s shoulder.

“I don’t care. I don’t care.” Dean said, sternly, gripping Castiel against him. “I could barely let myself hope that those dreams were you, Cas. You have no idea how fucking happy I am right now.” 

Castiel pulled away from Dean slightly to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t find any other way to find you Dean. I wasn’t even sure you’d still be alive. I used the last of my powers to project myself into you. I didn’t truly know if it would work but I hoped.” Tears poured down his face. “Coming back here was the only place I knew that you’d recognise was ours.”

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay. I’m here now. And neither of us are going anywhere without the other again.”

Castiel nodded and smiled, placing a delicate hand to Dean’s cheek. “Is it too much to hope that this means I was wrong, and you do actually return my feelings?” 

A laugh ripped through Dean in a way that it hadn’t in years, even before Cas had been taken by the empty. “Castiel, angel of the lord, ever since you saved me from hell, I’ve never been the same. You changed me. And I am hopelessly and completely in love with you.” 

Not letting a second more go to waste, Dean didn’t wait for a response from Cas. He pulled the angel into a deep kiss that he hoped told Castiel everything that there weren’t enough words in the world to say. 

(Tag list below - if you’d like to be added or removed, let me know!)

@rambleoncas @eccentriccas @joharvele @tearsofgrace @starrynightdeancas @aurastiel @dreamnovak @good-things-do-happen-dean @ccstiel @destielle @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @bend-me-shape-me

@thechaosthatismybrain @rusted-peopleskills @castiel-enthusiast @wheniwrite28 @fandomsofafeather @ripreptaytion @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @writtenmemxries @gum-believable @breathingdestiel @squintingg

@thefourthheadofcerberus @professorerudite @harmonyhelms @babyinabelstaf @monipotty @tinyroolove7

[fromparishwithlove]

Nothing But Handprints

[2,663 words, Destiel, mostly canon compliant]

A/N: Hey, hi, it’s midnight and I spent three days writing something and I actually finished it. It’s not that long, maybe 3,000 words but it’s something and I’m kinda proud of that. Ever since Supernatural ended I’ve found myself writing more and more. I’m actually working on a full fic and right now, it’s the most words I’ve ever written for one story, even though it just a shitty first draft. But before I publish that, I wanted to share something smaller, ease my way in so to speak. So this is a lot of Dean Winchester angst and a sort of continuous ‘Oh Shit’ moment in which he processes lots of memories and realises the impact Castiel had on his life, many of which are connected by the significance of the handprint. Ahhh the beloved handprint! Tbh I was kind of inspired by Jensen’s enthusiasm for bringing it back in 15x18 so you can thank him if you like this story. I think I’m going to eventually add this to Ao3 and it may get a sequel but for now, I hope you like it. Or at least don’t hate it.

Cas was gone.

Dean felt the loss as surely as if one of his lungs had been ripped out. Maybe it had. Maybe that’s why it was so fucking hard to breathe. And still he kept dragging in air, each breath a razor blade - Inhale. Exhale - forcing himself to endure the exquisite pain of survival.

Survival, he knew, was its own brand of suffering; barbed with regrets and heavy with the keen sting of memories.

Behind his eyelids bullets ripped through a dusty trenchcoat. A familiar voice admonished him; he was almost out of minutes. The cool press of fingertips brushed against his forehead. The silver streak of an angel blade caught the light. A fist collided with his jaw with a sickening crunch. A huff of involuntary laughter escaped from reluctant lips. Stubble scraped his cheek as he pulled the angel into a hug. Shades of blue crowded his vision - the garish blue of a crappy general store tabard, the endless blue of the morning sky as he wrestled his way out of his own grave, the untamed blue of angel grace, humming with raw energy. And best of all, the solemn blue of that unflinching gaze. There was a discarded cowboy hat on the backseat of the Impala. A game of Sorry pushed across a table and into his hands. A shitty four door saloon the colour of middle-aged misery.

And the brand of salvation burning on his skin - the Righteous Man, touched by an angel. The same handprint that now stained his jacket bloody.

As hard as he tried, all he could do was remember as shuddering breaths turned to wracking sobs.

*

Whatever this thing was, it had marked him. Searing it’s own handprint into the flesh of his shoulder, staking its claim.

Dean couldn’t help but feel... violated.

He looked like a walking advertisement for one of those crappy tourist spots: take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints but in his case it read: take nothing but liberties, leave nothing but handprints

He ran a tentative finger over the raised flesh and hissed at the contact. It felt raw, like a burn; still stinging and angry.

He glared at it, hoping the sheer force of his loathing would somehow dissolve it. But it remained, stubborn and resolute.

It looked human. That was the worst thing. To think there was something out there - something monstrous - masquerading in the body of an innocent person... And with enough power to pull him from the pit.

That thought alone was enough to chill the blood in his veins.

And what did that mean for him? He bore its signature on his skin after all. Did that mark him as it��s property?

He belonged to no man. And no monster.

He would rather spend a lifetime in Hell.

*

Getting up off the floor had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Turning his back on the last place he’d seen Cas near impossible.

What if, by some miracle, he came back? He deserved to know Dean had waited. After all, Cas was the only one he’d ever really had any faith in.

But Dean had given up on miracles long ago.

He let his phone ring out again and again; the sound too harsh in the grief-stricken silence. What if he never answered? What if he let Sam believe he was dead? Cas too. Because in reality, he felt as good as.

*

When she saw the mark on his shoulder, her eyes widened a fraction, her mouth parting in what Dean recognised as wonder.

Dean Winchester is saved.

The words came back to him as she aligned her palm with the echo of Castiel’s, caressing the raised skin with a gentle touch.

Something about the contact made him feel nauseous. Even though they were pressed together, not a breath between their bodies, he felt as though she had dug her nails into an open wound. A shudder of revulsion ran down his spine. He suppressed the urge to shake her off, instead drawing her attention away with a searing kiss.

The feeling of unease was harder to dislodge.

The mark itself no longer bothered him; it had faded somewhat and by the time Pamela used it to make contact with Castiel it hadn’t so much as tingled. This sudden display of hostility triggered by Anna’s touch unnerved him.

Maybe it was because she was an angel. Maybe it could sense her power, reacting with whatever traces of energy Castiel had left behind.

Or maybe it was something subconscious in Dean; something he didn’t want to acknowledge - couldn’t acknowledge - for fear of what that might mean.

But he couldn’t outrun the truth.

He noticed how Castiel turned away when Anna leaned in to kiss him goodbye. Thought he saw a flicker of jealousy contort his features. But only for a split second.

And once again that involuntary feeling of distaste rose up inside him, rearing it’s head, demanding to be heard.

And this time he listened.

And this time he recognised the ceaseless lament of his guilt.

*

Every cell in his body screamed in protest as he staggered out of the bunker. Every step a monumental effort. It was as though The Empty had created a vacuum when it had taken Castiel, and now it threatened to drag him into the same darkness.

He was exhausted; more than once he had to fight the urge to lay down and never get back up. But he knew he couldn’t.

He had to get to Sam, had to confront Chuck and demand he bring Cas back. He pinned all his hopes on it. Because if Chuck - Lord God Almighty himself - couldn’t bust Cas out of The Empty, what hope did he have of doing it himself?

So he dragged himself behind the wheel of the Impala and tried to ignore how normal it felt to sit there, as if he were just heading out on another case. As if the whole world hadn’t shattered apart and been clumsily glued back together in a matter of heartbeats.

He refused to look over at the passenger seat, refused to acknowledge the empty space beside him. Castiel had occupied that space just a few hours ago.

Could that be right? Had it only been a few hours since they’d made the journey to Lebanon, their silence weighted with shared worry yet still companionable? How had he lost so much in so little time?

*

Castiel arrived in the nick of time.

Zachariah had been gearing up to do some serious damage. He might not have been able to kill Dean on account of his status as Michael’s Vessel but he could still make him suffer. And Dean knew he had riled him. But nothing, not even the threat of what was to come would induce him to say yes. Zachariah had simply given him an advantage, a roadmap of what not to do to. He wouldn’t end up a cold, callous, merciless soldier like his future self. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe there would ever come a day when he would willingly sacrifice his friends and family - his fellow comrades - no matter what Heaven or Hell put in front of him. He would rather die than live to see himself become so despicable.

“That’s pretty nice timing Cas.”

“We had an appointment.”

His answer was so matter of fact, so practical, that Dean couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face. It implied that Dean could’ve been minutes away from death or simply completing the crossword and Castiel still would’ve come for him at that exact moment. But there was something coy about the set of his features, something like amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Dean was under no illusion that, somehow, Cas had sensed he was in danger and, despite his apparent ignorance, had slipped in and taken Dean while Zachariah’s back was turned. It was crafty, calculated, almost petty in its brilliance.

And now Castiel stood looking at him, ready to talk, to plan their next move, without even a hint of expectation in his gaze.

He didn’t boast or demand gratitude. He didn’t want Dean’s thanks; he just wanted to be included.

The realisation hit Dean all at once, Castiel’s own words coming back to him as he considered how the balance between them had shifted.

You don’t think you deserve to be saved.

But Cas had saved him. Had been trying to save him for a while now but Dean had just been too blind to see it. When he had freed him from Hell he had been following orders but now, he had simply taken it upon himself to remove Dean from trouble’s path.

Against all odds and the interests of Heaven, an angel had his back.

Dean took a step forward and, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, he said, “Don’t ever change.”

What he meant to say was: Don’t ever change back. Don’t ever serve the interests of others when you know in you’re heart they’re wrong. Don’t ever become unreachable, unknowable. Don’t ever stop being the angel on my shoulder because without you, I’d die.

There was so much he had meant to say but the words died on his lips. He hoped that Cas understood just from the look in his eyes, the force in his tone, the significance of that hand on his shoulder.

Dean knew that he didn’t always tolerate human contact but Castiel didn’t shrug him off. He allowed Dean to grip his arm, the fabric of the trenchcoat screwed up under his fingers. For a minute Dean held on and when he finally drew away, he half expected to see the shape of his palm imprinted there, just as Castiel’s handprint adorned his own shoulder.

*

He drove on autopilot, trusting his body to react accordingly; his mind was otherwise consumed by bittersweet memories that made his throat ache and his eyes sting.

He replayed every journey they’d ever made together, nothing but open road before them and unsaid words between them.

You changed me Dean.

His tears ran hot, spilling down his cheeks and splashing into his lap.

Dean had immediately recognised the truth in Cas’ words, but they still reverberated through him like the tremors of a distant earthquake. Letting himself consider the possibility that he, an insignificant stain on the Earth’s crust, had changed Castiel, a centuries old celestial warrior, was incomprehensible.

It was like... staring into the sun.

The more he told himself not to, the more he became blinded by its glare. Dean wanted to squint whenever he looked at it, shield his eyes from its radiant sincerity.

Because he had known it this whole time. Known and never admitted it to himself.

He had witnessed firsthand Castiel’s transformation from a finely tuned, emotionless instrument to a discordant orchestra of empathy and feeling and not once had he suggested it was his own influence that had inspired such a change.

Because how could he have inspired such honesty and compassion, gentle humour and tenderness? He was stubborn and defensive, worn down by years of trauma and still so full of anger.

But he was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

I cared about the whole world because of you.

It felt too big to accept so readily and yet... Dean remembered the first time he’d made Cas laugh, the first time he’d heard doubt creep into his voice, the first time his cheeks had flushed with embarrassment, his eyes had filled with sorrow, his shoulders had sagged with relief. He remembered it all and he remembered his own despair, his exhaustion, his cocky bravado. He had begged and reasoned and joked with reckless abandon. He had unwittingly smothered Cas with his humanity and instead of suffocating, Castiel had simply taken a deep breath, filling his lungs with every human emotion they’d ever dared to beat out of him.

*

His body felt beaten, his mind battered and broken.

Sam didn’t even have to ask as he forced himself out of the car to meet his younger brother’s eyes.

Understanding glimmered there. He might not know the details but Sam recognised the same heartsick anguish that gripped his own soul. The same bone-deep weariness that had settled over him ever since discovering Eileen was gone.

They had lost everything. Everyone.

Details would come later; coaxing out the truth one shot of whiskey at a time. Although, looking at the state of his brother, Sam wondered whether it wouldn’t take several bottles.

*

Dean took another pull on his beer.

He couldn’t understand why he’d done it. Maybe he hadn’t meant to. But sure enough it was gone. Every day the past slipped further and further away, fading as quickly as dreams but still he couldn’t help but reach for those memories.

There was barely anything left to remind him. Sam was... Well, Dean found it hard to think about Sam. And Cas... Dean hadn’t seen or heard from him in almost a year. He was starting to think Cas had removed the mark on purpose; some deluded attempt at helping Dean forget. Perhaps he thought it was a mercy.

But Dean didn’t want to forget. Not if it meant forgetting what it felt like to belong.

Once again he found himself in front of the mirror, beer on the counter, sleeve rolled up, his own hand pressed to the place where Castiel’s had once been.

He could hear Lisa moving around downstairs, glasses clinking, Ben’s laughter loud and jubilant out in the yard. He shouldn’t be here. Not again. Not today. He should be down there manning the barbecue, joking and celebrating with his family.

But he couldn’t seem to tear himself away. There was nothing to see and yet he kept on searching.

Mary had always said that angels were watching over him but his angel had abandoned him, leaving no trace behind.

Dean’s grip tightened, nails digging into his flesh. He relished the pain but it was not enough.

*

“You’ve got to bring him back.”

He’d ground out the words with deliberate force, still reluctant to admit Cas was gone, to admit that he alone couldn’t save him.

But Chuck had merely shrugged off their surrender. Apparently he was happy to simply watch them flounder. With no one left to fight for and no monsters left to fight, the brothers would be effectively made redundant. Just Sam and Dean and an eternity of suffering stretching out before them. How could that be the end?

In Dean’s opinion it was shitty, lazy writing. Surely Chuck would grow tired of their struggle soon enough and then what?

Stripping him of his power, his divinity, his immortality had been deeply satisfying. Dean relished the moment he turned his back on him, refusing to expend the effort it would take to kill him. That was, after all, not who he was. Not anymore.

For the first time in his life, he was going to carve his own path - without destiny or prophecy or some omniscient douchebag shoving him around on the chess board.

The thought terrified him. Did he even know how to live a life when his every movement wasn’t being dictated by someone else?

He supposed his first move would be the obvious one. But it was the only one he really wanted to make. With Jack taking on the role of God, his task of liberating Cas from The Empty seemed fractionally less intimidating. They would find a way.

Dean swore to himself that no matter how long it took, no matter the lengths he would have to go to, he would see Castiel again. And when he did, he intended to drag him out of the darkness and cover his soul with his handprints.

[casmybelovedass]

The Destiel Folder: Season 8

[Season 4; Season 5; Season 6; Season 7]

Oooohhh this is where things start getting JUICY

Episode 1:

Again, Dean copes with the idea of Cas not being there by lying to himself

Parallel from S6: Dean behaves exactly like he was while looking for Lisa and Ben, looking for Cas. "Where's the angel!" (16:57)

Dean clearly states he won't leave PurGAYtory without Cas (22:45)

Episode 2:

Since Dean has come back, he has been snappy with Sam and Crowley about Cas, but every time he remembers PurGAYtory, he is either looking for Cas or with him, and that's all he thinks of

Again with the paraparallels with Lisa and Ben (12:21), also "You'll find your angel there." (13:19) ICWAW, come on, do I have to point that out?

"There are some in Heaven who still believe, despite his mistakes, that Castiel's heart was always in the right place [...] I think... too much heart was always Castiel's problem." (22:25) Samandriel says all of this while looking directly at Dean

Look at that hug. Have we ever seen Dean hug Cas before? The gring on Dean's face. [This is so fucking funny too me, the "Nice peach fuzz" reaction to Cas' beard VS the Sam's "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen!" reaction in season 14] (23:21)

"I prayed to you, Cas, every night!" (24:37) Cas once again chose to leave/hurt Dean in order to protect him, even tho he really doesn't want to leave him. "There've been things hunting me. [...] I've a price on my head and I've been trying to stay one step ahead of them to... to keep them away from you." (24:54) Those fucking eyes kill me

Dean is willing to risk it all to get Cas out with him. "Cas, buddy... I need you." [yeah, let's see how well that ages on episode 17], also the little "Dean... " after that... BABIES (25:33)

That smile, those eyes... LOOK AT HIM. This is such a "You and me against everything" moment that, ICWAW, would be considered HELLA ROMANTIC

"I'm not leaving here without you. Understand?" (25:51) for fucking finally, also 12 seconds of STARE + LICK of the LIPS action. Oooohhh ICWAW... just imagine

Let us remember that all of this ⬆️, Dean remembers after Samandriel told him "too much heart bla bla bla"

"... [Kevin] thinks people I don't need anymore, they end up dead." (40:36) 'you', Dean? Only you? That's so much guilt you are packing. And immediately after he thinks about trying to save Cas from PurGAYtory and failing... Alrighty then

Episode 5:

I get why some people ship Dean and Benny, but they really do struck me as a bromance. When they call each other "brother", I believe that. With Cas, Dean pulls the "brother card" whenever he's opening his heart to him, basically "no-homo"ing it at the end. Weird right? (12:03)

Benny bitches about Cas being a danger to them because of the attraction monsters have to him, and Cas himself tries convincing Dean he has to leave him behind for his own good, but Dean is having none of that shit and is ready to die trying to save him (12:56)

FUCK MY LIFE we are getting flashbacks from both Sam and Dean, Sam about the time he spent with Amelia, and Dean about looking for, finding and trying to save Cas. I MEAN??!!! ICWAW you BET this would be seen as a ROMANTIC PARALLEL

"He's a friend." "A friend? Dean, you don't have any- all your friends are dead." "That's not what I called to talk about!!" Ouch (25:27)

Episode 6:

"I was in Purgatory." "Like 'purgatory' Purgatory?" "No, the one in Miami." ... that's a gay bar, Dean, how would you know? (11:23)

Dean's lying to himself about Cas letting go (35:32)

Episode 7:

Parallel to S1 Sam seeing Jess while in the car (2:31). Kill me. Also Dean allucinates Cas just like Sam did with Jess (10:15) band tries coping with it by repeating to himself that he didn't leave Cas behind

Every scene in Purgatory where Cas tries to reassure Dean that, if he doesn't make it, it's just the way it is, and Dean insisting he won't leave without him. "I'm just saying... if it doesn't work.. Thank you. For everything." (12:50) I'm dying

Cas comes back and all Dean does for the first few moments is check him out (16:16-16:21) He says he kept trying to reach for the boys, but wasn't at full power, tho somehow Dean was the only one who could see him. And Dean's eyes looking back at Cas (17:58) End me now

FUCKING👏BONER👏SHIFT👏 (20:38)

LOOK AT HIM!! He's checking him out, making THAT face and SHIFTING IN HIS SEAT WHILE PRESSING A HAND TO HIS CROTCH. THAT'S A BONER SHIFT. Look at Sam and then at Dean (20:44) One is a friendly fond reaction, one ISN'T.

ICWAW, we wouldn't even be QUESTIONING it!

The amount of checking out in this episode is crazy. Look at Dean checking out Cas. Look at his face! THE EYES (24:08) ICWA- OH COME ON DO I HAVE TO POINT THAT OUT?!

"Did you not trust me?" "Dean..." "I did everything I could to get you out. Everything! ... I did not leave you." "... So you think this was your fault?" OH MY GOD SO FUCKING #MARRIED LOOK AT CAS' EYES (28:06) ICWA- I'm not even trying anymore

So many soft shoulder touches (34:42) also HOT SCENE I don't know why "I'm going in." "Cas, no. You're not strong enough." (35:15) precious babies

"You could've gotten yourself killed. Why didn't you wait for me?" "Well, I didn't get killed, and it worked." "And if it didn't?!" "It would have been my problem." "Well, it's not the way I see it!" (37:36) #MARRIED they're SO MARRIED

Dean keeps blaming himself for Cas not getting out "I don't need to feel like hell for failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing I care about." SEE??! (38:16) Dean preferred believing he had let Cas down, something he is used to, than he had sacrified himself for him (38:48). Dean can't believe Cas thought he deserved to stay in Purgatory. Also THE WAY THEY'RE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER (39:38) And Dean's deeply hurt by the fact that Cas would leave him to safety and remain in Purgatory as self punishment for what Dean had painted as all Cas' fault. And he is full of regret (41:30)

Episode 8:

[How fucking cute is it that Cas wants to become a hunter. I'M SQUEELING]

They are so #MARRIED my heart ACHES (5:02) and the way Dean looks at Cas is so fucking SOFT. And 6 seconds of just staring and... well, Cas in general (5:13)

"What? I was being bad cop." "No, you were being bad everything!" (9:12) #MARRIED (12:04) I'm dying, they're so cute

"I don't sleep." "Okay, well, I need my 4 hours, so-" "I'll watch over you *puppy eyes*" (12:52)

"Hey, can you lift this?" sure, Dean, every excuse is valid to have Cas be hot by effortlessly moving an anvil. And see how Cas looks at Dean, like "Really? You even had to ask? I'll fucking show you I can lift this shit". Look at how he looks back side-eyes at Dean here (14:16), like he's making sure Dean is watching him being hot. I'm dead

This is such a fucking sweet moment [I mean, kinda looked like the begging of a porn at first] (16:01). Dean can sense Cas is not okay, and gets him to open up about his feelings. And when Cas admits being suicidal, Dean is speechless, not even being able to imagine such an outcome. Anyway, it is so fucking sweet that they're always able to show themselves vulnerable to each other

Shut up. Look at this scene (18:51-18:53). Mute the video and just look. This is Sam marrying Cas and Dean. PERIODT.

"You're so pretty, Charles. [...] You were quite the bounder." DEAN'S FACE (20:27) He's so in love, and immediately after he LICKS HIS LIPS

While Sam talks about running away from your problems (referring to Amelia), and having to wake up in order not to destroy everything, the pan focuses on Cas (35:33) Subtext, gentlethem, subtext. CAS, FACE YOUR FEELINGS. SOON

Dean's face when Cas says he's not coming back with them (38:16-39:21)

Episode 10:

I now this scene is supposed to be funny, but the way Cas looks at Dean AAAWWW (6:53-7:01) Also do you really have to walk so close to Cas, Dean? Do you? While CHECKING HIM OUT nonetheless?! (7:54)

Remember when in 7x01 Dean was totally comfortable watching porn in front of his brother? Well, Dean goes on and on about Cas being a "brother", but his fucking reaction to Cas being in the same room as him with porn on his computer, is BY FAR the same he has with Sam, hell he even keeps watching with Sam! (8:05) Is it because the last time he, porn and Cas were in the same room, Cas popped a BONER?

Random guy @ Dean: "Are you serious?" Cas: "*leans in to look at Dean* That's his serious face, yes." And Dean's reaction (12:59) SO FUCKING #MARRIED

Dean, that's not the way you look at a friend, or a BROTHER (13:38)

LOOK!! I swear to GOD ICWAW that would be seen as nothing other than CHECKING OUT YOUR CRUSH

"Hey, how about we say, if this doesn't pan out, we had back to that beer and bacon happy hour a mile back, huh?" Translation: "Since I'm starting to realize I might feel something more for you, let me take you on what is totally not a date unless you want it to be" (16:58)

(24:02) #MARRIED

Dean, will you stop checking out Cas during missions? (25:06) Same goes for you, Cas, don't check if your husband's got a boner for you being the hero here (25:08)

Since the start of this season, we've been getting parallels between Sam & Amelia and Dean & Cas. The flashbacks, the guilt for leaving the other half behind, and now Dean tells Sam he's jealous he got a chance at being happy with Amelia (37:32)!!! I MEAN- and fuck my life when I tell you there are parallels with the whole Sam-Amelia-Don & Cas-Dean-Benny thing. I'M TELLING YOU

Episode 11:

"Trust me, this life... you can't afford attachments. You just gotta... let go." "... Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone too?" (21:17) CHARLIE KNOWS. TELL HIM CHARLIE

Episode 13:

Bitch... Dean's reaction to getting publicly hit on by a dude, so not the one a straight guy, confident in his sexuality and masculinity, "no-homo bro" would have (15:36). Just saying, we have seen Dean turn down what he thought were avances, and other implications regarding his sexuality, with either sarcasm/humor or anger... this is new. Progress?! [Wait till we get to 15x7]

Episode 16:

[Keep in mind how Dean's bedroom looks. Trust me]

Episode 17: OOOOHHH BOI

Cas has been tortured, mind-fucked, obligated to kill fake Deans over 1K times, in order to be ready to kill the real one. Let that sink in

Dean prayed to Cas, I'm sure almost every night, and can already sense something is not right with him ever since he came back from Purgatory (11:31), but when Sam questions his prayers to Cas, Dean doesn't know how to respond. Like, what, do I need a reason to try and contact my crush?

"There has to be another way. [...] This isn't right! [...] I won't hurt Dean!" (29:51-31:00) "Cas, fight this! This is not you! FIGHT IT!" and he does. Cas fights it. [and as soon as Cas starts fighting back, Heaven tints with BI COLOURS! LOOK AT THEM WINDOW THINGY (31:16) OF ALL COLOURS]

Dean is on the verge of tears, kneeling in front of Cas, telling him "This isn't you!", and to fight. He is pleading. And by the end, bloody, hopeless, "Cas... it's me! We're family. We need you... I need you." and Cas stops. (33:13)

Cas breaks the connection Naomi had installed in him. Once again, when presented with the choice, he chooses Dean over Heaven. All of this because Dean needed him. And let's not forget Dean was originally ment to say "I love you.", and that would've been the reason Cas snapped out of the control. I MEAN ICWAW THIS WOULD FUCKING BE CANON

Dean, thinking Cas is going to kill him, clutches onto the coat's sleeve for dear life, to the memory of his Cas (34:21) KILL ME

"What broke the connection?" The look in Cas' eyes... "I don't know." OH YES YOU DO (36:15) and Dean's face when Cas says he needs to protect the angel tablet. Dean knows he's gonna leave again (36:23). ICWAW, this whole scene would be the UMPTEENTH CONFESSION

Episode 18:

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" "Me?" "Yeah. Cass dinged you up pretty good." "... and?" "And I just wanted to make sure you're okay." "...What, like, my feelings?!" "If that's what you wanna talk about, sure." Dean gets pissy pretty easily when talking about Cas, who left once again, and his feelings. Also, Sam knows, and he ships it. He's president of the Destiel Company (4:02)

Episode 19:

The thing with the Deanny relationship is: Dean is naturally affectionate towards Sam, and he expresses the same towards Benny. His relationship with the both of them is very very similar, while see Dean showing affection towards Cas [same as he does with Sam] only during extreme emotional moments. Dean is known for repressing his feelings, and having a tendency to maintaining a "macho" exterior. He shows himself vulnerable in front of Cas, but not enough for him to think less of Dean. So, think about it

Episode 20:

Charlie, a lesbian, who has only ever heard of Castiel through Dean, describes him as seeming "dreamy" while talking to Dean... GAYDAR ANYONE??!!! (9:16)

Episode 21:

"In the words of a good friend... 'bite me'." Cas is quoting Dean, and if I remember correctly, Dean will quote Cas' "ass-butt" later on (16:"10)

Episode 22:

I hate when Dean treats Cas poorly, badly, because he can't deal with his feelings. In the heat of the moment, Dean is always forgiving, helpful and caring, but as soon As things cool down, he goes back to being cold, bitchy and snappy, like nothing ever happened. Repressed mother fucker

The small flash of hurt on Cas' face when Dean ignores his "Good morning" (3:33) fighting coupleTM. "Dean, I can go with you. *is ignored* Dean... I'm sorry. [LOOK AT THAT FACE]" "For what?" "For everything." "Everything? Like ignoring us?" #MARRIED

Cas is buying porn, beer and pie to make amends to Dean. "Where's the pie?" "I think we're out." "*grabs store clerk* You don't understand. I need pie!" (14:50) they are so fucking #MARRIED

Episode 23:

This is such a sweet moment. Cas is about to close the doors to his old home behind himself forever, while risking getting killed by his own kind, and Dean is worried about him. They are sharing drinks while longingly staring into each other's eyes. This is so sweet. Also, Dean warned Sam he might not be coming back. Why? Cuz he would probably die while trying to protect Cas from other angels. To them, they are probably spending their last moments together, while looking at each other like THAT (22:38) And 5 seconds of STARES (23:10)

In love. Fucking fools in love, that's what they are.

This is so stupid but they have just witnessed a cupid matching up two dudes, after all of the above⬆️ (23:53) AND IT'S JUST FUNNY!! Dean is stunned and all, while Cas is complitely fine and professional (24:04-24:17-24:21) DEAN'S FACE

"Talk first, stab later." (26:21) Cas is like "Bitch, you talking? That was our first date!" #MARRIED

[I'll just leave this here (37:00)]

Now shit's getting real

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