#If he actually had Cas plans he would be leaning on that SO much wouldn’t he? Given that his whole approach to saving his show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

senashenta · 4 months ago

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Horror High: Chapter Three

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit (in future chapters)

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Some homophobia in this chapter. Can also be read HERE ON AO3. New chapter next Friday! :)

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Three By Senashenta

By Monday the bite on Cas’s neck had healed enough that he didn’t need to keep it bandaged anymore. Now when he looked at it in the mirror it just looked like a particularly bad hickey. He didn’t know which was worse. The Hickey Look would definitely be more embarrassing, he could just tell already, especially since it was starting to get around that he and Dean were... together.

There were whispers when he walked down Caspar’s halls, now, especially if Dean happened to be with him. And everyone talked about how they vanished together every lunch hour.

Not all of the chatter was negative, but a lot of it wasn’t positive, that was for sure. Cas had heard insults muttered under people’s breath more than the odd time. Dean didn’t seem bothered by it, and normally Cas wouldn’t have been, either, he didn’t really care what other people thought about him, but these insults were particularly nasty and mean-spirited. He didn’t like hearing them directed at himself, but more than that, he didn’t like hearing them directed at Dean.

“I can’t believe you’re actually dating Dean Winchester,” Charlie grinned at him, twisted around in her seat to face Cas in calculus class as usual. “He’s been totally…” Waving one hand, she finished with, “unattainable. Right since he transferred in. And you snapped him up so fast as soon as you got here!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Cas admitted, “it just kind of happened.”

“It was meant to be.” Charlie told him, “and you guys are cute together. What I see of you, anyway. I can’t believe you still won’t tell me where you eat lunch with him!”

A little, almost amused smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “It’s a secret, Charlie. I told you.”

“You know she’s never going to stop bothering you about that, right?” Garth commented idly.

Cas sighed. It was probably true. Charlie was the type to be really stubborn when she got an idea into her head. He waved her closer. “Come here.” Then he leaned to whisper in her ear—and when he sat back, he gave her a serious look. “Don’t tell anyone, Charlie. Dean would be really upset if everyone knew.”

Charlie was grinning ear-to-ear and nodded emphatically. “I promise! And I won’t even come bother you in your love nest or anything, I swear it!”

Cas flushed red at the ‘love nest’ comment and palmed over his face to cover it. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Charlie’s grin faded into something vaguely fond, “you’re my friend. I just want you to be happy. That’s why I love seeing you with Dean so much, you’re so obviously happy with him.”

“I—” Cas made a surprised noise, the red flush returning to his face, and glanced down a little. He offered a smile of his own. “I am happy. Thanks, Charlie. For being my friend.” Then he looked up and offered, “you too, Garth, Jody. I don’t know what I’d do without you three.”

“Well, you’d be really bored in calculus.” Charlie was grinning again.

“We’ll introduce you to Jo and Kevin some time,” Garth added, “I think you’ll like them, too. By the time we graduate you’ll have a whole group of friends.”

Cas had to pause and ponder that. He’d never really had a group of friends to rely on before, it was sort of a novelty for him, but so far it was… nice. He liked Charlie, and Jody, and Garth. He liked them a lot. And he hoped they would remain friends, even after their high school careers were over in a few months, but it was hard to say where they would all even be.

Cas himself was tentatively looking at Florida State University, assuming he and his father didn’t move again—and it was starting to look like his father was going to keep his word, actually—he had presented Cas with a seminar tour schedule a couple of days before and hadn’t said a word about moving house again.

And he knew Dean would be on the road, or at least assumed he would be. It was only a matter of time before the older boy left Jacksonville.

But as for his other friends…

“Hey,” He said finally, “do you think we’ll still be friends, even after we graduate?”

“Well, I hope so.” Charlie hummed, tapping a finger lightly on Cas’s desk, almost an absent motion. “I’m taking a gap year after high school is over to travel, but we can keep in touch, the Internet and all that kind of stuff, you know? And I can send you guys postcards from all the cool places I visit!”

Cas smiled at that. “That would be nice, actually.” He glanced at Jody and Garth, “what about you?”

“Law Enforcement.” Jody informed him with a shrug, “I’m already enrolled in the academy for the fall semester.” Somehow this seemed appropriate for Jody, though Cas wasn’t entirely sure why. “I’m going to start off here, but I could end up assigned somewhere else in the end, right?”

“Dental college for me.” Garth piped up, making Cas blink in surprise. He didn’t know what, exactly, he had expected from the other boy, but Dentist certainly wasn’t it. “I’m starting in the fall, too, in, but I’m moving to Fort Lauderdale for it.” He shrugged, though, and added, “but Charlie’s right, we can all keep in touch.”

Charlie looked at Cas. “What about you, Cas?”

“I want to go for Theology, and maybe World Folklore and Mythology,” He offered, “a double major? I’m thinking about Florida State, since it looks like my Father and I might actually be staying here for a while.”

“Ooh, you guys all have real goals!” Charlie laughed, “I’m impressed! I’m not really sure what I want to do after my gap year, but maybe something with computers.”

“Computers?” Cas questioned.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed, “I’m really good with computers. I can take them apart and put them back together blindfolded, practically, and I’m really good at coding and stuff. I’m definitely a computer geek. So, it’d be natural, right? Besides, you can make good money in the tech field if you know what you’re doing.”

That was a fair point. Cas nodded, but then added, “I wouldn’t have thought you were so into computers.”

“You don’t take computer class with me!” Charlie laughed, “I run circles around everyone else! Besides, I do other stuff too. See?” She held out one arm to show off the bracelets she was wearing, “I make jewelry, and sell it on Etsy. Beaded stuff like this and woven leather bracelets, friendship bracelets, that sort of thing. I do pretty well with it, actually!”

Cas stared at her blankly. “What’s an Etsy.”

Charlie patted his hand. “A store on the Internet, Cas. A store on the Internet. Uhhh, here! Have my business card!” She produced a business card for ‘Charlie’s Treasure Box’ from her backpack, then just changed the topic entirely:

“Now why don’t you tell us all about that massive hickey on your neck? Like, dude, you’re not even trying to hide it.”

-- --

That night, Cas was doing homework in his bedroom when he remembered Charlie’s business card. He dug it out of his backpack and opened his laptop up to go to her Etsy store, which was for some reason under the user name ‘charliesnotmyrealname.’ He made a mental note to ask her about that at some point.

Charlie’s Treasure Box was actually a pretty big store, and had a ton of feedback and reviews, all of it positive. She sold mostly bracelets, but a few necklaces, earrings and ornamental hair pieces as well. The store was divided into sections; bracelets, necklaces, earrings and hair pieces, and then each section was divided into sub-sections to make finding what you wanted easier.

Though she made no claims to be pagan or a wiccan, Charlie made bracelets with different gemstones for protection, healing, luck, all kinds of things. That was an interesting section. But the section that Cas found most interesting was the woven leather bracelets—some of them were feminine, but many were very masculine, and all had a sort of Celtic feel to them. He really liked those.

He had to admit that Charlie was talented, not that that had really been in question to begin with.

That got him down the Rabbit Hole of Etsy, though, from stick-and-poke tattoos to unusual candles to fake skeletons of mythological creatures—or possibly not so fake, his mind supplied—and before Cas knew it an hour and a half had passed, and he was way behind on his homework.

He was just shutting his laptop down when his phone binged with a text message from Sam:

[I know it’s none of my business, but please don’t do anything to hurt Dean. He likes you a stupid amount and I don’t want to deal with him if he gets his heart broken. Seems like he’d be a real pain in the butt like that.]

Cas stared blankly at his phone for a long, long moment before starting to reply. Typing. Then deleting what he had typed and starting over. He did that several times before finally hitting send:

[I don’t intend to. I like him a lot, too. Where is this coming from, Sam?]

There was a long pause before his phone pinged again:

[Just listening to him wax on about you, watching him stare into space while he obviously thinks about you. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s my brother, I’m allowed to worry.]

Cas smiled, just a little. Both at the thought of Dean acting like that when he wasn’t even around, and at Sam being so protective of him. Sam acted like a typical thirteen-year-old, but when no one was looking he was actually very mature for his age:

[You’re a good kid, Sam. Thank you for taking such good care of him.]

Another pause, then:

[You take good care of him, too, right? Promise?]

Another smile, this time fond:

[I promise.]

One more, brief pause before:

[Thanks, Cas.]

Cas didn’t bother to respond to that. He figured the ‘you’re welcome’ was a given. For now, he set his cell phone aside and got back to his history homework. It was going to be a late night.

-- --

The next couple of days passed mostly uneventfully, though on Wednesday when Cas finally remembered to ask Charlie about her Etsy url, she just responded with “you didn’t think ‘Charlie’ was my real name, did you?”

And Cas was somewhat stymied because yes… he… had?

But she cheerfully refused to elaborate, so he got no real answers.

Jody and Garth thought it was hilarious.

-- --

When Cas got to school on Thursday morning, he was delighted to find Dean leaning against one of the retaining walls, waiting for him. It had become habit for him to wait for Dean after school and for Dean to walk him home—especially after they’d been attacked, Dean seemed very worried it could happen again, since the thing had gotten away—but this was the first time they’d met up before classes.

Dean waved him over and Cas hurried his way through the crowd of students heading inside, over to where the older boy was waiting.

“Good morning.” He was trying not to smile too widely and probably failing miserably. Having a boyfriend was new to him, and it seemed to be dredging up a lot of happy feelings that he hadn’t even known he possessed.

Dean returned his smile with a small grin, reached to grab hold of his arm, and pulled him forward into a kiss. Cas returned it with a little pleased noise, ignoring the combination of whistles and jeers that came from the rest of the student body.

He was aware, of course, that there were a number of other kids that went to Caspar who were less than thrilled with their relationship. He’d heard the whispered insults as soon as people caught wind that they were ‘dating.’ But he supposed that no matter where you went, you would encounter people like that—so a high school was no different.

The important thing to Cas was that Dean didn’t seem to let it bother him, and also that his friends didn’t mind. Charlie, Jody and Garth didn’t give a damn that he was in a relationship with Dean—in fact, Charlie was all for it. But then again, she was gay herself, so it made sense that she would be supportive. Jody was glad he was happy, but worried about him because of the rest of the student body and Garth—well, Garth was just too laid-back to care. He had a ‘you do you as long as you’re not hurting anybody else’ kind of attitude. Cas could appreciate that.

Now, for example, he was pretty sure he wasn’t hurting anybody when he and Dean pulled apart, only for Dean to tug him close for another kiss. Cas hummed pleasantly against his lips. This was the first time they had kissed publicly like this, and it was… pleasing. To know that Dean didn’t mind. The muttered insults from some of those around them were less pleasing, though.

Still, Cas pushed them to the back of his mind and focused on kissing his boyfriend for a long couple of minutes… until they finally had to break apart to catch their breaths and Dean returned his earlier greeting with a smile and a murmured, “hi.”

Cas reached up with one hand to toy with one of the buttons on Dean’s jacket, a small smile on his face the whole time. “What was that all about?”

“Just felt like kissing you.” Dean shrugged, “it’s okay, right?”

“Definitely okay.” Cas agreed—and looked up when the warning bell rang. “We’ve got to go.”

“I hate school.” Dean grumbled.

“I know.” Cas patted his chest sympathetically, but still stepped back, waiting for Dean to join him before heading across the open front of the school toward the stairs to go into Caspar proper—and just before he hit the stairs, hands grabbed at the back of his backpack and shoved him forward, making him stumble and fall. Cas landed on the lower stairs with a pained little grunt, smacking his knees, palms and nose off the concrete, and twisted to look back—

The kid who’d pushed him spat out, “fuckin’ fag!”, but before he could say anything else Dean was on him, punching him right in the face. The guy went down like a sack of potatoes and Dean followed, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt and punching him twice more just for good measure while a crowd gathered in a wide circle around them.

Then he just let go and stood up, glaring the entire time, to turn his attention to Cas. “Shit, Cas, you alright?”

“Yeah, I think.” Cas let Dean help him up, looking down at his now-torn jeans with dismay. His knees and palms were skinned slightly and—

“Your nose is bleeding.” Dean pointed out, and Cas reached up to wipe at it, smearing the blood over the back of one hand. Dean glowered and turned another glare on the offender, who was still trying to collect himself on the ground. “Get the hell out of here, you little prick!”

The kid scrambled to his feet and dashed out of sight, though he looked like he might have more to say if Dean had been less of a threat. Cas, meanwhile, grabbed at Dean’s hand and pulled it up to look at the red-and-bruising knuckles there with a frown. He sniffed absently when blood continued to drip from his nose.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Dean.”

“I was supposed to just let him get away with that?”

“I know, but you’re going to be in trouble…”

“I don’t care.” Dean took his hand back and began steering Cas toward the front doors of the school again, “lets’ go get you cleaned up.”

They spent the entirety of first period in the first-floor boy’s bathroom getting Cas’s nosebleed under control and making sure his knees and hands were okay (they were.) Cas also fussed over Dean’s hand, which was steadily turning more and more black-and-blue, the knuckles red and angry looking. Cas knew, logically, that it wasn’t the first time Dean had ever punched someone—or something, he supposed—but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. He didn’t like seeing Dean injured, even just minorly like that.

“You really need to ice that hand,” He commented worriedly while Dean worked on his nose, packing it with toilet paper to staunch the flow of blood and ordering him to keep his head back until it stopped.

“It’s fine.” Dean replied gruffly… and then heaved a sigh and ran his good hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Cas, but he shoved you and said that and I just…”

“I understand.” Cas assured him, words coming out a little garbled because of all the tissue crammed in his nose, “I just don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”

“You’re one of the few people I would happily get in trouble for, though.” Dean admitted and offered a wry little smile. “Besides, it’s not like I’ll go to jail or anything, I’ll just get detention. It’s no big deal, really.”

“You punched that guy in the face.”

“And we’ve already established that he deserved it.”

It was about that time that the door swung open, and the Vice Principal Patterson stepped into the room. He seemed… unimpressed, to say the least, and looked over the two of them before all but bellowing, “I’VE CURRENTLY GOT A KID IN THE OFFICE WHO LOOKS LIKE HE’S BEEN PUMMELED BY A PROFESSIONAL BOXER, BUT YOU WOULDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT, WOULD YOU?” And then; “DEAN WINCHESTER, CASTIEL NOVAK, PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE. NOW.”

-- --

Cas had never been a troublemaker but got the impression that Dean was more than used to trips to the principal’s office. The other boy seemed right at home seated in front of the Vice Principal’s desk, waiting for Vice Principal Patterson to join them and, presumably, get them in trouble.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Dean informed the man as soon as he came into the room, a frown on his face and his entire posture tense. Dean twisted in his seat to watch him walk across and take a seat behind the desk.

“You punched another student in the face.” Mr. Patterson informed Dean flatly. “Several times.”

“He was asking for it!” Dean insisted, “he shoved Cas down and called him a fag!” Then; “th—that’s totally a hate crime!”

“Only if Mr. Novak is gay.”

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed hold of Cas’s shirt and pulled him over, kissing him firmly, then turned an expectant look on Mr. Patterson when he let go, leaving Cas to blink a few times in surprise. Mr. Patterson looked taken aback for a moment before he managed, “oh.”

“We’ve been together for a while now.” Dean explained almost casually, “you think I wasn’t going to defend my boyfriend from something like that?”

The older man turned his gaze to Cas, who was obviously banged up and still had bloody tissue in his nose. Cas hurried to tug it out, sniffing absently and wiping at his nose afterward, pleased that the bleeding appeared to have stopped. “I’m okay, sir. I just skinned my knees when I fell and banged my nose off the steps.”

There was a long, drawn-out silence, before Mr. Patterson cleared his throat and offered, “Mr. Downey failed to tell us this part.” Downey must have been the name of the kid who’d started this whole fiasco. Dean scoffed, but he was clenching one hand into a fist at the same time. Mr. Patterson shifted in his seat before continuing, “you can’t go unpunished, Mr. Winchester, it would set a bad precedent. But I can be lenient on you, considering.” His eyebrows lifted, “lunch time detention today, and try to stay away from Mr. Downey from now on. Alright?”

Dean was already standing. “Yes.”

“And boys,” A sigh, “please report any further incidents to myself or Principal Cavanaugh. Don’t take them into your own hands.”

This time Dean grinned. “No promises.” Then, “lets’ go, Cas.”

The two of them fled the Vice Principal’s office before he could change his mind.

-- --

Lunch hour just wasn’t the same without Dean, but they really had gotten off easy all things considered, so Cas didn’t feel like he had the right to complain. Still, he sat under the bleachers by himself and found himself wishing Dean was there, particularly when he went to dig out his lunch and came up with the usual two sandwiches.

Deciding he wasn’t all that hungry himself, he just settled for his bottle of water and fished out his needle and thread. By the time lunch hour was over he had managed to patch up the righthand knee of his jeans. The left side would have to wait until he got home later.

His classes after lunch were long, boring, and approximated torture, with the exception of calculus, where he had friends. Jody, Charlie and Garth were very interested in knowing the truth behind the rumors that were already flying around the school—and when he told them what had happened, they all came down on the Dean Was Right side of things, which was reassuring to say the least. Charlie offered to punch ‘that Downey kid’ herself, just in solidarity. Cas turned her offer down, but appreciated it nonetheless.

After classes let out for the day, Cas hurried down to where he usually waited for Dean, sitting on the steps, off to the side so as not to get trampled by the masses who were exiting the building, another school day over. It took a while longer than usual for Dean to make his appearance, but when he did Cas brightened considerably.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean’s feet brought him to a stop standing in front of Cas, and he smiled down at him with something that edged into fondness. “Sorry, Mr. Patterson cornered me after last class to reiterate that I am not to go around punching people in the face. It took a while.”

“It’s okay.” Cas smiled back at him, then looked away long enough to dig in his backpack—and held out the sandwich that had been meant for Dean at lunch. “You must be hungry.”

Dean laughed but took the sandwich anyway. Holding it with one hand, he used the other to help Cas to his feet. “You really look out for me, don’t you?”

Cas dusted himself off and shrugged into his backpack. “I packed it for you to begin with.”

“You fixed your jeans,” Dean observed as he began unwrapping the sandwich and they started to walk. Once the sandwich was unwrapped, he stuffed the wrapper into his pocket and began eating with enthusiasm. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I only got one knee done at lunch. I’m going to have to get the other one done later.” Cas shrugged slightly, then watched Dean eating out of the corner of his eye before smiling and adding, “you’re welcome, Dean.” He paused, then; “it was weird, spending lunch without you. I didn’t like it.”

“Neither did I.” Dean admitted around a mouthful of sandwich, “detention sucks. Mostly ‘cause you’re not there. At least it was just for today.”

“Mn,” The younger boy hesitated slightly, then reached one hand out to catch Dean’s free hand, tangling their fingers together and squeezing gently, “thank you for what you did. It was… a little excessive. But I appreciate it anyway. I’ve never really had anyone to stand up for me before you came along.”

The truth was, he had never really had friends before Caspar High, never mind a boyfriend to be protective of him. With all the moving around he and his father had done because of his father’s job, he had never been in any one place long enough to form lasting relationships. But for some reason, here, at Caspar, people were latching onto him right away—people that he hoped to be friends with (or more) for years to come.

“You never had friends before?”

“Not really.” It was like Dean was reading his mind. Cas smiled absently to himself—then a little more when Dean finished off his sandwich and adjusted his hand in Cas’s but didn’t pull away. “I moved around too much. But I think… maybe. Before my Father adopted me, I have this feeling like I came from a big family. I don’t actually remember it, though, it’s just… I feel it. In here.” He brought his free hand up to touch by his chest lightly. “So maybe I had people when I was really little, but… like I said, I don’t remember.”

For Dean it was different. He had Sam, and he had his dad, for better or worse, and through his dad he had a whole network of Hunters and people who were Hunter-adjacent that he could also rely on in a pinch. But when it came to actual friends, he kind of knew where Cas was coming from. It was hard to make friends your own age when you hopped schools—and cities—every six months or (usually) less.

Caspar High had thus far been usual for him, too—not so much in the friends department, he was purposely being distant with his classmates because there was no good reasoning in getting close to people he would be abandoning in a month—but because of Cas.

Right from the start there had been something about Cas that drew him in; one minute he’d been rescuing the other boy from bullies and the next he had been making out with him under the bleachers and now he was holding hands with him as they walked down the street. It was all very backwards from Dean’s hard-wired aloof character and his built-in self-preservation skills. He never let people get as close to him as Cas was getting. There was never any point.

But this, this thing with Cas…

It felt good. It felt right. Affection in a way that Dean had never felt before, and he was sure Cas felt the same, though neither of them had said anything yet. Dean didn’t believe in fate, but it was almost like they were meant to find each other the way they had.

“How’s your hand?”

Cas’s voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts, and he lifted his free hand to hold it out in front of him, looking at the bruises and contusions almost idly. “It’ll be fine. Just bruised. How’s your nose?”

“Not bleeding anymore.” Cas reached up to rub his nose absently, then; “really, Dean, you didn’t have to do that. I just got pushed down, it’s not the first time that’s happened to me.”

“He called you a slur.” Dean pointed out, “anyway, who’s pushing you around all the time?”

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’. And just kids at other schools, bullying me. I’m always the New Kid. And I’m weird. But you know how that is. Caspar’s actually been pretty good for the bullying… but I guess that’s mostly thanks to you.”

“You just called me weird.” Dean commented with a smile.

Cas tugged at Dean’s hand. “I meant the New Kid thing and you know it.”

Dean tugged back. “Why are we holding hands, again?”

Cas made a soft ‘I dunno’ kind of noise. “It just felt right. We can stop if you want.”

The older teen shook his head and squeezed Cas’s hand gently. “This is cool with me.”

The rest of the walk to Cas’s house was made in companionable silence, the two of them holding hands, fingers threaded in together comfortably and both of them wearing tiny, barely visible smiles that no one bothered to acknowledge.

When they got to the house and climbed the steps up to the front porch, there was a long hesitation before they let go of each other’s hands, and even after they had done so they stood close together for a while, just soaking each other in. Then Dean leaned in give Cas a quick kiss—and was about to leave when Cas caught his hand again, tugging gently.

“Do you want to come in?”

Dean hesitated. Even with walking Cas home every day, he had never been inside the house itself, only ever made it to the porch. “I could, at least for a little while. Then I’ve gotta get back to Sammy, though. Why?”

“I want to introduce you to my Father.” Cas informed him, “he should be home today.”

“Uh.” Dean balked significantly at that because meeting the parents? Was not something to take lightly, and even he knew that. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to introduce Cas to his dad. It would be a disaster. “Cas, are you sure that’s a good idea…? What if he hates me? What if he forbids you to see me?”

“I’d still keep seeing you anyway.” Cas blinked, then added; “but I didn’t mean I wanted to introduce you as my boyfriend, my Father is just concerned that I don’t have any friends at Caspar, so I thought it might put his mind at ease if he met one. If you’re not comfortable with it, I can bring Jody and Garth by some other day instead. But probably not Charlie quite yet, she’s the strangest friend I have. Including you and Sam.”

“Oh. Oh, okay, I get it.” Dean relaxed again. He ducked in to kiss Cas once more, then stepped back to a reasonable distance. “Yeah, we can be Just Friends for your Dad. Lets’ go inside.” But then he stopped and frowned a little as he asked, “Cas, would your Dad have a problem with us being together?”

“No, he wouldn’t mind that I was with another boy.” Cas shook his head, “I just don’t think he’s ready for me to be in a relationship at all just yet. He thinks I’m… delicate. Which I guess is true, in certain ways.”

Dean stepped closer again and tipped his head to press a kiss against Cas’s forehead. “I wouldn’t say ‘delicate’. ‘Sensitive’, maybe. And I don’t mind that you’re sensitive, it’s one of your good qualities.”

“Mm,” Cas hummed an agreement, eyes closing over, and reached with both hands to grasp at the front of Dean’s jacket, tugging him even closer. “You’re a good boyfriend, Dean. Maybe I should just introduce you that way after all.”

“You said your Dad wasn’t ready.” Dean pointed out, “we can give it some more time and then tell him.”

“I don’t want to give him a heart attack,” Cas murmured, then; “can I have another kiss before we go in? Or maybe more than one? Possibly several?”

A soft laugh, but Dean was already tilting his head to give Cas the requested kisses, “you’re going to get us caught.”

“Mm-mm,” Cas made a quiet negative noise into one kiss, pausing before the next to add, “my Father is probably in his office, he doesn’t even know we’re here.”

Making out on the porch was risky, though, because his father knew approximately what time he was supposed to be getting home, and if Cas was too late coming in the door, he might come looking for him. So, after another few, drawn-out kisses, Cas reluctantly pulled back, letting go of Dean’s jacket and moving to open the door and go inside.

“You don’t have to stay for long, I know you have to check on Sam.” He assured the older boy, “I just want to reassure my Father that I actually have friends. He worries about me a lot.”

Dean just shrugged. As much as he was always checking on Sam at the motel, most of it was because it had been drilled into him by his dad. Logically, he knew Sam was thirteen and plenty old enough to take care of himself, especially with the way they had been raised. The only problem was that Sam had been known to bolt when left to his own devices, only to be found halfway across the country a month later. If that happened (again) on Dean’s watch, he would never hear the end of it.

Still.

“Sammy can take care of himself for a little bit.”

“You should probably call him and let him know where you are, at least.” Cas said as they stepped into the house and he closed the door behind them. “Take your shoes off, please, my Father is kind of weird about that.”

“No shoes in the house, got it.” Dean nodded, stepping out of his shoes by the door. He pulled his phone out and quickly dialed Sam, letting his brother know, briefly, what was going on when he answered. Then he just hung up and dropped his phone back into his pocket. “Done!”

Cas smiled. He had already taken his shoes off as well and reached to give Dean’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll go get my Father,” He told the other boy, “you can wait in the living room if you want.”

Dean cast a look across the open concept main floor to the living room area and nodded, trying not to feel nervous. “I can do that.”

“I’ll be right back.” Cas promised, and headed for the stairs, climbing them quickly and wandering down the hall to the door of his father’s office. He paused, though, at the closed door, one hand raised to knock, to take a bit of a breath. He knew they were going to be introducing Dean as his friend, not his boyfriend, but he was still a little worried.

After a long hesitation, he finally knocked—and waited. Silence. His father was probably deep in his work. He might not have even heard Cas knock. So, Cas knocked again, louder this time, and cracked the door open to peer inside. His father was sitting at his desk, typing on his computer, the tak tak tak of the keys loud in the small room. “Father?”

The typing continued for another sentence or two and then stopped. His father turned around in his chair. “Hey, Cas. Do you need something?”

“I—um.” Cas hesitated again before clearing his throat and informing; “I brought a friend home from school. I thought you’d like to meet him? I know you’re worried about me making friends.”

His father brightened, smiling, and stood from his chair, “absolutely! This is great, Cas! You haven’t brought a friend home in ages.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Cas apologized, only for his father to wave the apology off. He stepped back out into the hall and headed downstairs with his father in tow. “Um, so Dean can’t stay long, he has to get home and look after his little brother, but he said he could come in for a little while. We just have to make this quick, that’s all.”

“Understood.” His father chuckled.

Cas made his way over to the living room where Dean was waiting, seated on the admittedly ugly but definitely comfortable couch. He stood up quickly when they approached, brushing invisible dust off his jeans, obviously nervous despite their earlier talk.

“Hello, Mr. Novak.” Dean greeted politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s Mr. Shurley, actually, Cas and I don’t share a last name.” Cas’s father corrected with a smile, “but you can call me Chuck. Dean, right?”

“Yes, sir. Dean Winchester.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Dean.” And then, “really. Call me Chuck.”

“Chuck, then.” Dean agreed with what he hoped was an easy smile. He held out his hand and Chuck shook it firmly. This really felt like meeting his boyfriend’s parents, even though they had agreed that wasn’t what it was. Not this time, anyway. “Cas tells me you’re a… motivational speaker?”

“Yes,” Chuck agreed, “I’ve written a couple books, I’m working on my next one. And I travel around the country doing seminars.”

“Mm.” Dean nodded, hands moving to his pockets because he felt like he was about to start fidgeting. “Cas said that was why he moved around so much. My family moves around a lot, too.”

“Dean’s Dad travels for his work as well.” Cas put in. So far, he was pleased with how things were going. “Right now he’s out of town, so Dean’s looking after his brother, like I said.”

“Ah. So, you’ve got something in common, hm?” Chuck’s smile was sympathetic now, “how did you two meet?”

“At lunch at school.” Dean offered truthfully, “one of the other kids was trying to pick on Cas and I stepped in. I know what it’s like to be new.”

“That was kind of you.”

Dean just shrugged and glanced toward Cas, who gave him a fond look when Chuck wasn’t looking. “I don’t like bullying.” He informed, and smiled again, “anyway, after that Cas and I just kind of hit it off. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Cas’s father seemed to like Dean a lot, and that was a relief. Cas was feeling much more relaxed about this entire idea now—and Dean appeared to be as well. Maybe having met Dean, Chuck would stop worrying about his son at school quite so much. That would be nice, to not have his father ‘mother hen’ him as much as he currently was.

Now they continued to chat for another few minutes, until Cas looked toward the clock in the kitchen and realized what time it was. It was getting late, and Dean really did need to go, unfortunately.

“Dean, it’s getting late,” He said reluctantly, “you should probably get back to Sam.”

Dean just nodded with a smile. “Yeah, you’re right.” Then he turned his attention back to Chuck; “it was nice to meet you, Chuck. Thanks for having me in your house and everything.”

“No problem, Dean, it’s just good to meet an actual friend of Cas’s.” Chuck waved one hand dismissively, but then added, “it is time for you to go, though, Cas and I still have to have dinner, and he probably has homework, right Cas?”

Cas nodded in agreement. Dean stepped out of the living room and headed over to pull his shoes back on, and Cas trailed along behind him. Chuck went to the kitchen to start preparing their dinner—Cas would help him in a minute, as much as his cooking skills would allow. For now, he reached to subtly squeeze one of Dean’s hands before the older boy could make his exit.

“Thank you,” Cas said softly.

Dean just gave him a smile and squeezed his hand back. “Anything for you, Cas.” They couldn’t do anything else, not with Chuck right there, not pretending to be Just Friends for him, but that was enough for now. “I’ll see you later.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfiction #spn #shut up sena #sena writes #horror high by senashenta

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goodsoldierandnothingelse · 1 year ago

Text

Moment of Truth

Adventures on Kik/Skype/Discord with @alwaysaweapon Blockquote: alwaysaweapon ; plain: me - Takes place in season 10, after Dean reverted back from a demon -

The brothers finally confess some shit to each other...

With everything going on in their lives, Sam was aware that he and Dean hadn’t really had time to just– be themselves. They were used to chaos; their lives thrived on it. But they also managed to get time to just relax and recover. Time between bouts of chaos where they could unwind and prepare for the next hit their lives were about to get. But this time around, there hadn’t been a break between things. It was getting to him, and he could tell Dean wasn’t himself, either. Not that either of them were really themselves these days, but even the lack of time to sit and talk was taking a bigger toll on them than he’d ever realized it would.

Ry was asleep, by now. He’d made sure Kassie was safe, at least as much as he could. Really, it was bound to happen this way; the two of them ending up awake after anyone else. Forced to admit they had let things push them too far apart. So when Sam heard his brother moving around in the library, he followed the sound and leaned against the door frame.

For several moments, he just watched. The weight of so much sat on Dean Winchester’s shoulders, and the bastard wouldn’t relinquish any of it to his brother. That was something Sam hated most; he could help, and had proven that in the past. But Dean was all about protecting him from– everything. But seeing his brother all but crumbling under the weight of the Mark, of all the crap they were dealing with, destroyed him.

“Need a hand?”

To be honest it had been a couple of weeks now that Dean had officially given up finding a cure for himself. The research was going absolutely nowhere and all he got from it was new levels of frustration and bouts of panic. He knew he had to come to terms with the fact that he was dying,–even though he wasn’t ready. Not just for selfish reasons but for the people he cared about most. Sam, he had to know would be safe and carry on without him, and that Ry– Well, he didn’t even know where to start and finish with her. He finds out this deep dark secret about her, how she’s somehow Crowley’s super charged vessel from making a deal with him in Hell and is now bound to him like some prisoner, and he’s just suppose to die and let that stand? He had be planning on making Sam, (and Cas, too), promise that they’d do whatever it took to break her free, but all this shit kept dropping on them like an endless swarm of birds flew over their heads that there really hadn’t been much time to do anything other than try and dodge it. Their dodging could definitely use some work, but it wasn’t exactly their faults. Evil just followed them around like a lost Hellhound.

Dean had been instead pouring himself over new research, looking for ways to break the connection Crowley held over Ry, and he had become obsessed. Not only did it prove a great distraction, not just from his impeding doom but also from the itch the Mark gave off. Of course, he still needed to hunt-to-kill, but it was definitely better than sitting around, feeling himself slip further and further away with every second.

Which is how Sam found him, gathering every book he could find that even remotely brushed up on Ry’s case and opening them among the two long tables that centered the library. Dean’s head had snapped up when Sam pierced the empty air with a question, and Dean had to actually take a moment to realize he was talking to him.

“’M sorry, what?” he asked, looking confused.

A weak smile crossed his feature briefly before he nodded toward the table, leading with his chin to signal toward the material spread all over. “You seem like you might need a hand.” He offered again, pushing from the door frame and actually walking into the room. His hands were dug deep into empty pockets, shoulders tight and close as he subconsciously protected himself from the stress they were all under. “I thought I could be some kind of help.”

He stopped at the edge of the table, gaze rolling over the open books and pieces of ancient looking paper strewn across the top. His brows lifted as he picked out a few key words. Not what he’d expected to find, and his gaze lifted to Dean slowly. There were a million questions he could ask right now, but he was sure his face said it all. “What’s this?” He managed at last. He kept his worry and accusations to himself. That Dean wasn’t even bothering to look up more on the Mark had stopped bothering him as much as it had. He had learned to leave that topic alone, do what he could on the side. But this was something new, and it was clearly something his brother was concerned about.

They’d always kept secrets, he and Dean. It seemed like that was just part of their interaction of late. Secrets, lies, half-truths. Whatever it took to protect each other from anything and everything. They both hated it when the other revealed they had been doing just that, and yet they were both guilty. It never occurred to either of them, he didn’t think, that others around them would start doing the very same thing. He knew this research didn’t involve him. And there was slim chance it had to do with Dean himself. That left a few options, but Sam had an idea he knew who it was. Which meant she had definitely been around them far too long. Poor woman was doomed, just as they were. Just as so many before her.

Not only had Dean been distracted but it had been a while since he had exchanged words with his brother that weren’t about whatever crap they trying to deal with, and he was caught off guard a little bit. Sam, however, clarified for him and motioned to the messy table, revealing his intention to help. Oh, he thought lamely, and then thought that it would certainly be the kind of help he would wish for. Instead of Sam trying his damnedest to find a cure for him when it was clear that there just wasn’t one.

Sam came into the room and began looking over the open tomes, trying to piece together what Dean was researching for before he asked, his expression displaying a range worry and therefore told him that he got the gist. “Somethin’ I’ve been meaning t’bring up,” he confessed to the younger, his own expression telling that he, too, was struggling from their lack of a break. “An’ somethin’ I do actually need help with.” Now and after…if they didn’t find the answer quickly. Which, given the fact that he hadn’t found it already, leaned more towards later,–as in too late for him to finish the job.

Dean stood straight, looking at his brother head on, as he presented his request to him. “Ry told me that she’s Crowley’s vessel; that they’re connected an’ that he’s somehow storin’ power in her, usin’ her like some damn external hard drive. I guess for insurance. An’ we can’t just kill the bastard or Ry’ll end up dead, too,” he explained, growling a little at the end in anger. “So I’ve been tryin’ t’find a way t’break the connection before I carve out his eyes an’ feed ‘em to him ‘til he chokes.” Just one of the scenarios he’s imagined, but it was clear that he intended for Crowley to pay for what he’s done. “So far I’ve found a couple of maybes, but they’re far from easy. An’, not t’mention, dangerous. But maybe together we could figure somethin’ out.” He looked at Sam, a small hopeful plea hidden behind his eyes, knowing he was best at this sort of stuff.

It took a moment for Dean’s words to sink in. Vessel. The word in itself sent a chill through him. The idea of anyone being a vessel was terrible, and he knew firsthand what it could entail. But for Crowley? It made him feel a little sick at the thought. Of course, it also explained a few things about Ry. More than he’d like to admit to his brother at this point in time. He took a deep slow breath and nodded his understanding.

“Of course I’ll help you, Dean, you know that.” His lips pressed together at the words he needed to say and he almost kept them to himself. But if they didn’t get said now, they’d get said during a heated moment as a weapon, as they were both so good at doing, and he wasn’t willing to allow that to happen. “Please just keep in mind the chance that– that you can’t help her. Being a vessel isn’t something typically easy to sever, and we both know that. I just– I want you to be prepared if that ends up being the case.”

Maybe with a demon it was different. Angels were connected to bloodlines, some to specific people that could contain their power. It wasn’t like that for demons, not generally. But with how little they knew– really knew– of Crowley, he wasn’t willing to make that assumption. Not when Ry was involved.

A small wave of emotion came over him as he realized that, despite his misgivings toward her of late, she meant a lot to him. Somewhere along the way, she had become more than just Dean’s woman to him. She’d become family, much like others they’d stumbled upon along their lives. The idea of Crowley, out of anything and everything, having his claim on her actually angered him more than he expected. And he couldn’t ignore the pain he saw in his brother over it. Or the blame. Of course, if it were him and Kassie? He was sure he’d be in the same state Dean was currently. Because despite their stubborn ways and heavy denial, the Winchester boys had fallen in love with two very different but equally amazing women.

“But,” he swallowed his emotions and nodded, meeting Dean’s gaze. “We’re not going to give up until that is the only thing left on the table. I promise.”

Had Dean really expected Sam to turn him down; no, Ry had come to mean something to him as well. Of course, their relationship was different, but it was obvious he cared about her and what became of her, just as he did. Especially after he had informed him that a certain demon had his hooks in her; the concern and fear forming to reflect his own. Nevertheless, a surge of relief past through the older hunter at his words, the crushing weight on his shoulders not so crushing anymore with his baby brother on board. That was until Sam brought up what he felt needed to be said, and his muscles screwed themselves up tight again.

But Dean didn’t yell, or interrupt, only listening and mulling around the scenario that Sam wanted him prepared for, just in case. Of course, the mulling was cut short when Dean refused to consider that an option. Shaking his head, he flatly said just that, “No.” He looked at Sam, his eyes hard and unwavering. “That’s not an option.” Ry couldn’t remain under Crowley’s control and be his puppet; nor could Dean accept his own fate if that was hers and that was something he needed to do before it was too late. “Sammy, you gotta promise me you’ll find a way. If we can’t–” He paused but took a bracing breath and continued. “Even if I don’t make it–” His expression developed into a visible plea, “you gotta save her, man. Please.”

What his brother was asking shouldn't be that difficult to agree to. But he had his reservations, and had good reason for them. Ry was important to him, as Dean was, and he'd do anything for them both. But he'd never put Ry before his brother. Which, essentially, was what was being asked of him at this point. Ignore Dean's-- affliction and focus on saving Ry. He'd watched his brother go through so much already, and didn't intend to just sit back and let things happen the way Dean seemed to think they would.

"I'll do my best to help her, Dean. I can at least promise that much. But I won't turn a blind eye to you. We still need to find you a cure." He declared. "Look, if what you're saying is true, then-- we've never seen anything like what you described. Hell, I didn't know that was even something that was possible, let alone something that Crowley was capable of."

Dean's expressions went through a series of phases, reacting to Sam's reply, before he settled on a more neutral look that told he was listening, even if he wasn't in one-hundred percent agreement. Sam knew of his frustration in their numerous dead ends they had met when researching the Mark, and honestly, he was too exhausted to argue. Not just because the hour of the clock, but mentally, he was fried. Fighting against the dark force rising within him took more effort than he could deal out. Sam would do what he thought was right, anyway, (stubbornness was a family trait), and his breath would only be wasted if he tried to tell him otherwise. It was best just to move past it and focus on the latter half of his reply. "Yeah, well, Crowley's a crafty sonvabitch," Dean offered as an explanation. "How else would he've climbed his way t'the top? Doubt Hell utilizes democracy." He glanced down at his piles of books, gesturing a page to Sam. "From what I can tell from these books is: that Crowley did to Ry kinda like what Gadreel did to you. Leaving his Grace behind in you. Of course, the only grace Crowley possesses is those ties he wears... Basically, though, it's the same principle. Only instead of grace, it’s demonic power. Which, as we both know, is a fuckin' party to have rampant inside of you..." He shook his head, getting lost in his memories for a moment.

"Crafty isn't the word I was thinking," he grumbled, running a hand across his eyes as he thought about what else the King of Hell might be hiding from them. They'd never really thought about how Crowley had climbed the ranks, just focused on the fact that he had and that it made him a bigger threat. And, on occasion, an asset.

Dean explained what he'd been able to find in the books, so far, and it actually made sense. And if he'd felt dirty with an angel's grace left behind in him, he could only imagine what Ry must be feeling. And that she'd made a deal for that to happen-- he didn't want to know what kind of a contract that entailed. "Yeah, it's not a good situation. How long has his power been in Ry?"

Dean shrugged, scratching his head behind his ear. "I don't know. Since Day One? Since she got out of Hell? She told me that's why he pulled her out." Of course, it was only recently she found out, actually remembered it at all, after...he kicked the living crap out of her and Crowley healed her. Again, he shook his head, but this time with hatred, mostly towards himself. That was another reason he felt like he had to help her: he owed it to her. But that was only a portion. It was no secret that he cared for her deeply, that he lo-- And this was a fate she didn't deserve to live with; a fate he wouldn't let her live with. No. But he couldn't do it on his own. Thus why he asked Sam for help, and who he trusted to see it through, even if he wouldn't be able to.

Sam nodded slowly at Dean's words, thinking over what he now knew. He remembered how it felt to have Gadreel's grace in him. He remembered what it was like having Meg possess him. He couldn't imagine what Ry felt. What it was like having Crowley's power in her, knowing that she had made a deal with him over it. Then he tried to imagine how Dean felt, knowing that the woman he cared so deeply for, maybe even loved, was a tool of Crowley. "We'll figure it out and free her from him." He assured his brother. "No matter what it takes."

There was a heavy silence as the weight from the disturbing truth, and the panic that ultimately followed, settled between them. Dean thought now, though, that they might have a chance in finding an answer. It was Sam's forte after all, coming up with solutions. Well, one of his fortes, anyway.

Sam broke the quiet with another promise, this time worded in a way Dean could accept. No talk of giving up and accepting the fact that Ry was just going to have to live with being Crowley's bitch for the rest of her life.

Some peace of mind finally found Dean, and he looked over to his brother with sincere gratitude written on his face. "Now you're talkin'," he approved with a short nod, but as he glanced back at the books on the table, he felt that flash of enthusiasm dissipate. He had lost track in how long he had been going at this; he wasn't even sure what the hour was now other than late. But how could he afford to stop now? Oh right, he couldn't.

Sam dove into the work with ease and practice. His eyes scanned the pages, not taking in much, but searching for the key words he'd set in his mind to look for. It was an easy way to get through a ton of books thoroughly, without taking months to get through. Not that he thought this was going to be quick by any means, but habits were difficult to break.

He didn't know how much time had passed as he set aside the fourth or fifth book he'd been through. He chewed the inside of his lip, deep in thought. "Have you talked to Cas? Might be possible to get Crowley's power from her the same we he got the Grace out of me."

Dean was going through numerous case files the Men of Letters had on demonic possession, but none of them told of an instance where demonic power had been left behind. At least, not to the extent that Ry currently housed. Though, Dean couldn't imagine many demons willing to separate with their power, even as a precautionary measure. Leave to Crowley and using his...whatever she was to him these days.

When Sam finally broke the silence, Dean realized that he had been reading the same sentence over and over again. He dropped the file and sat back in his chair, taking both his hands and rubbing his blood-shot eyes with his fingers. "Uh," he started when he dropped his hands from his face, keeping his eyes shut for a moment longer while he thought over that idea. "I don't think one tiny needle's gonna cut it." He opened his lids to glance over at Sam. "Besides, I already tried him. Said he'll try an' come by soon, but that he's never heard of a demon storing his power like this..."

Of course Sam had plenty to say on the subject of Cas. He had questions about how their friend brother was doing in his own mission, and more... but they had a new focus for the time. Instead he nodded his understanding of Cas not being able to help right away. "Crowley's more than just any demon," he noted. It had become significantly clearer the longer they knew him that the King of Hell was more than he appeared. "Maybe-- maybe it's a spell of some kind?" The suggestion was something he was sure his brother had thought of, but he wanted to get on the same page if he was going to help. At least it was working as a distraction for him, as well, from the thoughts he had been dwelling on the last few days.

Sam stated the obvious, that Crowley was far from the ordinary demon, and of course, Dean had factored that in, which just led to more piles of research. He pointed to one then. "Spell pile's there," he informed through his fatigue. "Like I said, I've found some things to try, but they're just a bunch of maybes; hypotheticals, no proof they actually work. I'm hopin' t'show Cas when he gets here, see what he thinks. In the meantime, however..." More and more research.

Dean didn't have to say much, as the rest of the statement was clear by the piles around them. "Did you make a list of the possibilities?" Sam wondered. "I could try finding more on them." It was no secret that he had spent more time going through the massive library the Men of Letters had amassed than his brother had. He knew the layout of the books pretty well by now. A blessing when they were in a tight spot, but it also gave Dean and Ry something more to tease him about.

Make a list? How could he make a list when he wasn’t even sure what exactly he was looking for. “I pulled out all an’ every file, book, film reel, I could find that even remotely related. If we don’t find an answer in here,” his eyes roamed the table top, “we’re gonna have t'start lookin’ elsewhere.” Which would mean their chances would drop exponentially if that happened. Dean didn’t even want to consider what would happen to Ry if they weren’t able to free her, for the thought alone was enough to make him lose it. And him losing it wasn't exactly in anyone's best interests.

He suddenly stood up and walked over to their mini-fridge he had set up, but instead of reaching inside for a beer, he grabbed the whiskey he had placed on top of it.

Sam sighed, nodding. He thought that was probably the situation. That was always their luck. He let silence settle for a while longer, then sighed again. Not looking up from the book he was reading, he broke the silence again. "You really love her, don't you?"

Dean almost overflowed the glass he was pouring the whiskey into as Sam asked him a single but loaded question. He stopped the flow just in time, recapping the bottle, and then bending down to sip off the excess of the amber liquid. He made sure to swallow down more of the drink before he supplied a response, his memories taking him back and the feelings they brought on. "Yeah," he eventually said quietly, just above a whisper, looking down at his drink. "I guess I do... Wish t'God I could stop." He shook his head and took another gulp.

He let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, nodding. "Yeah, I know the feeling." He muttered, then stood straight. "Look, it's obvious you love her; even she can see it, I'm sure. And I know you'd do a lot for her but-- how far will you go for her? As far as you would for me?" History itself said that Dean would literally do anything for his younger brother. Sam didn't know for sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his brother would do the same for the woman he loved.

Sam muttered a response that sounded like he could relate, which just confused Dean, but before he could question him on it, Sam continued. Another loaded question was thrown at him, that felt even heavier than the last, and Dean had to take a second to consider his answer. "Yeah," he breathed, nodded. "Yeah, I would."

Sam nodded, figuring that was going to be the answer. "Okay," he said, pushing away from the table and moving to the bookshelves. He scanned the bindings, grabbing a few as he went. It wasn't his first choice of action, but it may be what was needed. That was, if he could find what he was searching for.

There was a long pause of silence that followed his affirmation as it seemed to hang in the air, but Dean broke the quiet after so long. "I wouldn't, though, y'know," he admitted quietly, or at least the best he could considering he hated talking about this kind of stuff. And he felt kinda guilty, too, but it was still the truth. "Over you... I wouldn't. I still mean what I said back in that church... An' that just ain't ever gonna change. No matter how you feel towards me..." Mostly, he was just muttering, not even sure if Sam could hear him, but the fatigue and the drink was loosening his tongue. And he just sorta needed his brother to know that.

Sam set the books he'd grabbed on the table, looking at Dean as he spoke. A small smile formed at his brother's words, nodding. "I know, Dean. But-- I wouldn't be angry if you did. You've spent my whole life with me. You deserve to have love like you do with Ry."

"Yeah, well-- still." He took another drink. Deserving was a bit of a stretch. Honestly, it was a damn miracle Ry was even still around, let alone felt something akin to what he felt for her. But, deep down, he knew Sam would always come first, no matter what. It had been woven into his being since the beginning; that wasn't something he could change.

"What'd'ya mean?" he asked after another pause, looking over at Sam as he turned to rest against the fridge. "That you know the feeling?"

Sam's brows furrowed as he scanned through the books. He wasn't going to bother pushing the subject anymore. Besides, he was pretty sure he'd found-- oh. "Uh," he looked up, scowling as he thought about how best to respond. A hand moved to rub the back of his neck as he let out a heavy sigh. "Look Dean I--" he let out a breath. "I think I love her-- Kassie, I mean. And that-- that scares the shit out of me."

Dean was thankful to find Sam wasn't as drained and discouraged as he felt currently, needing at least one of them to keep going before he regained some strength back and took another swing. Because as he said before, he couldn't just give up. He wouldn't, not on her. But even so, he couldn't help but wonder what Sam had meant, when he could relate to how he felt about Ry, or the weird, slightly uncomfortable feeling it gave him. The British witch hadn't even occurred to him, honestly, as he was stuck on the few thoughts that had popped into his head, but when she was brought up, Dean mentally scoffed at himself for forgetting what should have been his first guess. But at least that duh moment spared Sam what would have been Dean's initial reaction to that news. Especially when he led off with, 'I think I love her.' Truthfully, now he was just relieved he hadn't meant Ry. "Really?" Dean questioned, just hinting on skeptical. "Do you even know her that well? I mean, other than the fact that she's a witch." And all the unpleasant details that entailed. But even as he questioned, he remembered seeing that look on his brother's face when she had trespassed on their home and he had brought her inside. He had even defended her 'til he was red in the face. Dean had hoped, he guessed, that whatever he had felt for the supernatural woman would pass.

Sam dropped his hand as Dean replied, not far from the response he was expecting. He supposed it was better than yelling at him and accusing him of repeating the past. He gulped a little, nodding in response, to start. "Yeah, I do. I've-- uh, I've spent a lot of time with her. She saved my life in London. I met her parents, even." He chuckled at that thought, remembering how her parents had been when he was there. "She's-- unlike anyone I've ever met. So strong and intelligent. She's been through war. She cares about everyone and everything-- maybe more than they deserve sometimes." He sighed. "Yeah, I know her. The fact that she's a witch doesn't even come close to the top ten amazing things about her, Dean. And I wish you could see past that part of her."

Dean knew, of course, how the two met-- though, arguably it was more like he saved her life, despite how Sam put it now-- and then when she had shown up, knocking on their door, one early morning, but besides that he wasn't sure of other times the two could have been together. But he had noticed when Sam would go missing, usually without him telling him first, or giving him some excuse that didn't always seem to sit right, so that explained some things. Dean had guessed it had been a woman, who was sirening her way with his little brother, he just, again, hoped that it hadn't been the witch but someone normal, safe. But that just wasn't Sam, was it? Dean had remained quiet, processing as he watched Sam from where he leaned, taking gulps of his drink now and again, and realized just how far his brother fallen for the woman he spoke of. Especially when he categorized of her being a witch as something amazing. Man, he really had to have it bad... Sam said then that he wished he could see past that; Dean clicked his tongue. "Look, Sammy," he said, not unkindly but just stating how things were, "you might be up to drinkin' the Kool-Aid-- or brew, or whatever-- but I ain't." He paused for a second, thinking. "But you're right. That should scare the shit out of you."

"Yeah," Sam scoffed and shook his head. "Never mind, Dean. Forget I even said anything." If his tone didn't tell Dean he was done talking, the fact that he went back to scanning books should have. In fact, he was focusing extra hard on the pages, now. How could he have thought that Dean would be even slightly willing to listen to him and have an actual conversation without insulting him or Kassie? Clearly that was far too much to ask for. His jaw clenched as anger filled him. This was different than his past mistake. Yes, he loved Ruby, somehow, at some point. But she was literally pure evil, a demon. Kassie was about as far from that as anyone could get, but getting Dean to see that was impossible. He'd always find a reason why Sam saw her the way he did, and apparently now why he felt about her the way he did.

Sam took the usual way out, opting to shut the conversation down before words could be said and feelings bruised, turning his attention back to the books in front of him. But what Dean couldn't figure out was-- "You're so defensive when it comes to her," he pointed out, shaking his head. "I just-- I don't get it. Or how-- How you could even fall for someone like that. I mean, it's not like she's The Girl Next Door." Although, Sam's track record with supernatural woman wasn't exactly a clean slate, but it wasn't like Dean understood then, either. And not to mention, how well those turned out. "She's-- dangerous. Tiny, but..." So, so tiny... "Dangerous."

Sam was now just letting Dean talk and choosing not to respond. He wished he could say he wasn't listening. But, unlike Dean, he couldn't tune people out so easily. Instead, he heard and internalized every word, but didn't react in any way. It was safer, anyway. There had been enough arguments lately.

And again, Dean was met with silence, even though he was trying to understand. He might've pushed the subject, but ultimately, Sam first brought it up. And now he didn't want to talk about it? Dean sighed, scratching at the bridge of his nose, before saying, "Sam, look." He dropped his hand, his tired gaze going back to his little brother. "I'm not tryin' t'piss you off, okay? 'M not. Just tryin' t'understand." And he was, truthfully. He just wasn't great at not coming off like an asshole about it. But he had a reason for that; he had his reasons for not trusting the witch, that went beyond the obvious.

Sam looked up again at his brother, lips pressed together to keep himself from saying anything he knew he'd regret. "I can't make you understand something when you don't believe what I'm saying is true. That it's truly me and not some spell. And especially when you hate the woman I'm talking about."

Dean didn't believe Sam was under a spell-- At least, not anymore. Not since he had asked Cas to discreetly check on him and discovered nothing abnormal about his brother. He had moved past the idea that Sam had found himself in another Becky situation. However, the latter half to Sam's argument held true and Dean couldn't deny that. He pursed his lips, looking down at his glass he held for a moment.

"I believe ya," he admitted to him, glancing back. "As much as I wish I could blame it all on her... I know this isn't because of some spell." He stood up and turned to pour another glass for Sam, sensing he needed some as well. "Though, it's too bad." He held out the drink, a peace offering of sorts, to the younger Winchester. "No reason to be scared if it ain't real, right?"

Sam eyed the glass a moment, then took the peace offering. "I guess," he admitted, taking a gulp of the alcohol. "I don't even know how it happened. I have been careful to keep just enough distance, y'know?" He sighed, shaking his head as he set the glass down. "How'd you handle it when you realized how you really felt about Ry?"

It took him a moment, but before long Sam took the glass from Dean, seeming to stow the riled up anger for now. Dean took that opportunity to pull up a chair next to him, ready to be the older big brother and actually listen to what Sam had to say, despite their different feelings toward the matter.

"Mmh," he hummed, that said he did know, and nodded. Same thing had happened to him with Ry, only by the time he realized and tried to put up a wall, it was too late. He'd already let her in. At Sam's question, Dean focused back on the present. "Denial. Lots an' lots of denial. I don't think I was actually straight with myself until after you locked us in my room. An', well, it was far too late then." He gave Sam a look and non-committal shrug. "So, what are you gonna do?"

He listened to Dean and thought that it sounded all too familiar. Shaking his head, he took another swig of his drink. "What can I do? I let her in, and she ends up dead or worse. I don't let her in and probably the same happens, but she'll hate me because I pushed her away. Not sure which is the lesser of the two evils at this point." Of course, there was probably a middle ground that he wasn't seeing, but he was a Winchester and they had a bad habit of seeing things in black and white with very little gray.

Dean smirked slightly to himself. Not because Sam's dilemma was funny, but because his mindset practically matched his when he had been faced with the same choice. Though, really, he could barely call it a choice. There was no saying goodbye when his body craved that woman like nothing else. "You're thinkin' too much," Dean pointed out. "Trust me. You're just gonna go 'round in circles like that." Or think about doing one thing and then do the exact opposite, just like he had. "But since you only think you love her-- it's not too late t'make a choice. But you're gonna hafta make it soon, or it'll be decided for ya."

"Yeah," Sam scoffed. He wasn't about to admit that he more than thought he loved Kassie. Admitting anything to Dean had been a gamble. Having his brother not yelling at him or telling him he was stupid was a miracle he didn't want to risk losing hold of. So, instead, he drank his alcohol and stared thoughtfully at the books they had just been going through. "How did we get here; both of us falling for a woman who seems made for us?"

As much as Dean would like to yell and judge Sam for falling for a witch, he knew from experience this type of thing wasn't so simple. Like Sam said, he didn't even know how it happened, just that it had, despite any efforts he made to ensure otherwise. That all definitely sounded familiar. There was just only so much resisting a guy could do. Especially when it came to attractive women.

The two brothers drank as they wallowed in the web they both had gotten caught in, wondering what they could've done more to avoid such a trap, or, really, if they had even tried to dodge in the first place. Apparently, they were both weak in this sense. Sam then asked out loud a question they were both thinking-- or at least, the first half of the question. "'Made for us'?" Dean asked, raising a brow at Sam's cheesy form of words. "Really?"

"Shut up," he grumbled. "You know what I mean. And you know I'm right, if not those exact words." Of course, there was so much more to their situations, and so many pieces to it all. But the basics were just that plain and simple. Ry was made for Dean, he was sure of it. And Kassie was the closest thing he had found to what he'd felt with Jess. That had to mean something.

Dean shook his head, for two reasons, but mostly because of the statement that had come out of Sam's mouth. "What I know is that you gotta watch something other than Lifetime movies, Man," he replied with a tease but kept a solemn tone, like he was actually worried about the effect it was having on him. "Seriously, it can't be good for what's left of your testosterone." He had joked before that Ry held more than Sam, and damn, if it didn't feel like that at times. But, after a moment, Dean regained some seriousness back. "You really think that? You an' a witch?"

"Let's forget, for one minute, that she was born a witch. Imagine she's just a regular, quirky, adorable, intelligent woman I got involved with. What would you think, then?" He wondered. He truly needed to know what Dean thought of Kassie as a person, barring her being a witch.

Sam asked him to forget that Kassie was a witch, so that he could focus on the other parts of her without any hindrance and honestly answer his follow up question. It was a tad difficult to do, separate her from what she was since he really didn't know much more about her, but he tried his best. "If she was just some normal, run-of-the-mill woman," Dean started, forcing himself to look past her fatal flaw. "Then... I would say mazel tov, ya know. As long as you were happy. 'Cause you do deserve to be with someone who makes you happy.--However small that someone may be." He paused before he sighed. "But, Sammy... That's not the case with her. She's not some Jane Doe." His tone was quiet but not harsh, just stating. "Even if her school-girl crush on you keeps her from physically hurting you... I have no way of knowing if she's doing something else to you. Or if she'll get over her feelings for you an'--" A thousand different scenarios past through his eye, each more disturbing than the last. He swallowed, refocusing on Sam. "I'm worried, Sam.--I mean, what if I can't get to you in time? Or what if I can't reverse what she does to you? What if--" What if I lose you?

He understood where his brother was coming from. He did, and he knew exactly why Dean had the concerns he did. Ruby. She’d come between them and Sam was so sure she was safe and that she loved him and wanted to help them. But Dean had been right all along. It was different this time, but Sam had no way to prove that to Dean. Hell, some days he wasn't sure he could prove that to himself. He just knew this time was different. "I know," he said quietly, giving a nod. His brow furrowed. "Dean, I don't know how to ensure any of that to you. And I know history makes you more cautious, but enough time has passed that-- that I'm asking you to trust me. And if, somehow, I come out of this wrong? You do what you need to and I won't stop you. But please, trust me-- if not her."

Dean's issue with Sam's newfound love interest wasn't just about Sam's disastrous romantic history,-- though, he did have to admit it played its part,-- but it mostly boiled down to the fact that she was what she was; a monster he was taught to hate and fear, toying with his brother's emotions whilst she threatened him just by being near. How was he supposed to look out for him when a witch held his heart? And while yes, he had come to accept not all supernatural-like creatures were evil, murderous beings that needed to be put down, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with Sam shacking up with one. The very idea just gave him constant anxiety, honestly terrified that this is what could punch his number. He knew he wasn't giving Sam enough credit, as he wasn't some amateur who had never actually faced the harsh reality of what goes bump in the night, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stand the thought of losing him again, even if that probability was slight in this instance.

Sam replied saying that he understood where he was coming from, no longer upset with him for hating on his girlfriend. The two of them were actually talking, listening, without tempers flaring. It felt kinda weird but good, definitely good.

Finally, Sam asked him to trust him, if not Kassie; to which Dean knew he couldn't deny that to him. He owed him that. He just had one condition. "If you're sure-- I mean, one-hundred percent sure-- that she doesn't pose a threat... Then I trust you," he complied solemnly, giving his word, before he lightened up slightly. "But if she so much as looks at you wrong, I will not hesitate. You're not going out by Sabrina. Okay? That's just... Too embarrassing. An' I won't stand for it."

He let his brother ramble on, less inclined to speak right now than he had been before. He wasn't stupid; he knew that Ruby was only part of this. But the idea that, after everything they had seen in their lives, Dean was still so close-minded about things really bothered him. He wanted to believe that his brother had been able to accept there were good monsters and more out there. Hell, there were several that they had let go because they were. And then there was Benny. But he figured it was best not to bring any of that up.

Dean was done talking, and Sam realized he hadn't heard all of it. He had caught the last of it, though, and was able to guess from there what had been said. "Yeah," he nodded. "I know. You need to trust me, though."

Dean nodded, physically conveying his agreement before he did the same verbally. "I do.--Just don't ask me to like her." He didn't have that in him quite yet, and he still didn't trust her specifically, but he would follow through on his word and give Sammy the trust he deserved.

Dean finished off his drink, dipping his head back to catch the last few drops before asking aloud a question he had floating around in his head. "How do you do it? I mean, with the height difference, ya gotta be well over a foot taller than she is, an' there really isn't much to her. Is she on top the whole time? For safety purposes?--Does anything weird happen during it? Like some kinky, binding spell or something? Or her suddenly tasting like candy corn...?" Now he was just reaching, but he was legitimately curious... And, well, he had to give his little brother some shit, as is his duty.

"No, I won't. You'll reach that point on your own, or you won't. Just-- please stop trying to imprison and kill her." He let the silence settle as he sipped his drink and went back to the page he was sure he had attempted to read seven times over. But the silence didn't last, soon punctured by a series of inquiries that had him wishing he had never said a word about his feelings for the woman.

"Wow. Okay, seriously, dude? How is that any of your business?" It was all he could think to respond with at the moment. Not that he would ever admit to Dean that that hadn't happened. And even if it had, he wouldn't divulge those details. Not so explicitly as Dean was insisting, at least.

Dean doubted that there even was an existing point where he would like the witch, let alone him ever actually reaching it, but he said nothing more on the matter. He couldn't help but make a small face at Sam's adjacent request, though. That would be the real challenge, wouldn't it, since his instincts told him to neutralize the threat every time he laid eyes on her. But his promise to Sam, to trust him, he supposed encapsulated that, and therefore would be followed through-- To a point, of course.

A brief silence had seeped over them before Dean spouted off some-- admittedly not-so-innocent-- questions; much to Sam's chagrin. But what else were big brothers for? Dean shrugged. "'S not," he acknowledged, "but can you blame me for being curious?" He cracked a small smirk with some raised brows before his face crinkled with slight disgust as he imagined another scenario. "Is there blood-play? Are maggots involved? She likes t'be choked, doesn't she?"

He blinked, not believing (but not entirely surprised at) the words coming out of his brother's mouth. "You're seriously disturbed. You know that, right?" He couldn't help the smirk and chuckle as he shook his head, wishing he didn't find what was said actually pretty funny.

"Oh, no, I know," Dean answered with a straight face, not denying the statement. "But, if ya think about it, who's really more disturbed? The guy who just asks the questions or the guy that likes getting all freaky? Huh?" He raised his brows as his smirk re-bloomed. "Next thing ya know is I'll be stumbling into some kind of sex dungeon the next time I come back from a hunt. Havin’ gone the full Fifty Shades..." He pursed his lips as his imagination swept him away for a moment before he joked, "...I might hafta move."

"There's so much wrong with this entire conversation." Sam claimed, wrinkling his nose. "I'm not opposed to you moving if you keep up with this," he added, waving his hand vaguely to indicate he had meant the current conversation. "You can visit Ry when I'm not here." A smirk, teasing. Potentially taunting.

The only thing wrong with this conversation was that Sam was holding out on him, instead of sharing his experience with the supernatural on a level Dean had only briefly experimented with. And only once had it been willingly. Unlike his brother...who seemed to openly seek out those extraordinary partners before falling head over heels for them. Of course, the normal girls he had also become entangled with hadn't worked out so well, either...but at least with those, the issues were one-sided. With a witch? Obstacles could and have come at them from all sides-- Dean's distrust being just one of them. But he'd try and back off, just like he said, and trust Sam. He'd need him to be there if or when things didn't work out, he just prayed that the only cleanup would be emotional.

Sam claimed he wouldn't fight him on moving if he didn't lay off and that he could visit Ry when he wasn't there. "Like I'd leave her in that kind of environment," Dean argued, giving Sam a small bitch face. "You'd probably have her roped in-- maybe even literally-- on some kinky roleplaying game before you an' the witch go off t'have even kinkier sex." He shook his head in mock disapproval. "You nasty sonavbitch, have you no shame?"

"Dean, seriously?" The scolding was lessened by the laugh he let out. "You are possibly the biggest ass I know," he admitted, shaking his head. "Can we just-- not have this conversation? I like having something to myself." Yeah, he knew he wasn't denying anything at this point, but it was a better option than pushing his brother further into his obsession with the current topic.

Dean was fully aware how ridiculous he was being, but his questions and imaginings had now become less about reality and more about teasing the hell out of his brother. And the fact that he had gotten him to laugh, and therefore loosen up, was just the whip cream on the pie. When Sam called him him an ass, he had to grin then. "Thank you," he chuckled, owning up to that title with a kind of pride that only made sense to asses like him. But then Sam asked if they could just stop this conversation, claiming that he liked having something private, causing Dean's expression to fall slightly but he was far from deterred. "We're brothers. Our something to ourselves is each other," he responded, but really, he wanted to see how red Sam would get over it. Plus, this topic was a whole lot lighter than most of what passed between them, and Dean was enjoying the freeing feeling of it. "Would it help if I told ya 'bout me an' Ry?"

Of course Dean didn't drop the subject. Sam fighting it was just fueling the older man's need to torture him. "Right. You're my brother and, honestly, I've seen and heard enough over the years to fill a lifetime so please don't tell me anything about you and Ry." He scrunched up his face at the very thought. "You can't seriously enjoy being an ass that much."

Dean chuckled again and then shrugged. "Your loss." Though, he knew that even without him telling, that what Sam had seen and heard over the years definitely included them specifically-- most likely enough to create an already fairly clear picture-- but those are the dangers one faces when all are living under one roof. He got up from his seat and retrieved the whiskey, bringing it over to the table; he poured himself another before offering Sam more. "I can an' do," he announced with a small grin when Sam accused otherwise on his stance of being an ass. "Life's more fun when you're not a stick in the mud. You should try it more often.--Might even help with your lady issues..."

Sam was shaking his head at that. "Nope, not a loss at all." He stated plainly, shuddering at the very thought. Though, probably a little more dramatic than was needed simply because it would elicit a reaction from his brother. He watched Dean pour himself some more whiskey before offering him some, as well. He nodded, glancing at his empty glass. He was tempted to tell him to fill it to the top, but he knew what that would get him from the hypocrite with the bottle. "I don't have--" he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I like to practice a little restraint. You should try that sometime."

As Dean tipped the bottle into Sam's glass, after his nod of approval for more, Sam started to argue defensively that he didn't have lady issues, which caused his eyebrows to shoot up in challenge. Concluding from what he just told him-- yeah, that's exactly what he had. But instead of letting the remark fire him up, Sam chose to reevaluate his response, finally saying that he was practicing restraint. So, that's what he called it, huh? Dean shook his head slightly in disappointment until Sam lashed out his frustration by claiming that he should follow his lead. He blinked. "Why the Hell would I do that?" he asked incredulously. "Restraint gets you absolutely nowhere. 'Cept maybe frustrated beyond all reason. Like you obviously are. It's no wonder you're still on the fence." He shook his head again. "Nah, 'M good. Life's too damn short t'play it overly cautious. Especially our lives."

As he took a swig of the alcohol his brother responded in just the way he suspected. Of course. And yeah, Dean had a point. Their lives often didn't allow for taking things in a leisurely fashion. But Sam tried hard not to focus on that as much as Dean seemed to. He enjoyed having something as close to normal in his life as possible. So, instead of arguing, he gave a short nod of understanding and agreement. “Right,” he added. Another swig of his drink, and he let out a heavy sigh. “You know... I don't remember the last time we just sat around and talked like this. S'kind of nice.”

Unlike his brother, Sam appeared entirely done with their current subject of conversation and let it die with a simple agreeing 'right' and trailed off, drinking from his glass. But after a heavy sigh, Sam admitted it that their little bout of brother time was nice as he couldn't remember the last time they had had the chance. To be honest, Dean couldn't quite remember, either, when it had just been the two of them and it made him feel guilty he hadn't made any time for just them. Granted, it wasn't entirely his fault, as it wasn't like they were just sitting on their asses, twiddling their thumbs,--their lives were hectic to say the least, but he could've attempted more of an effort. "’M up for makin' a day of it, if you are," Dean replied, throwing up a crooked, half grin. "We could drive to a beach somewhere, leave our ol' ball an' chains at home; be just the two of us. Just like old times." He didn't really like the idea of leaving Ry on her own, considering everything, or taking a step back from the endless combing-through of research, but if he was being honest, he needed a break, too, before it snapped him in half. Besides, he wasn't sure if the two of them would get another chance to do so before things reached the point of no return for him and obviously he'd like to have some of whatever time he had left spent with his little brother.

#moment of truth #alwaysaweapon #adventures elsewhere #season 10 thread

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theostrophywife · 2 years ago

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stars in your eyes.

masterlist (azriel x reader) author's note: more azriel fluff because you know I love to hurt myself. summary: you’re struggling to find the perfect birthday gift for your mate so you enlist the help of one illyrian general.

“This is quite honestly the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Your gaze travels down to the skimpy lingerie scattered across the shelves and back up at the hulking figure of the male standing before you. The sight of your friend standing in the middle of a lingerie store was definitely turning heads. Though to be fair, you were wholly to blame for dragging Cassian out for a day of shopping on the Rainbow.

“Scratch that. Letting you talk me into coming here is the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

Cassian gives you a nonchalant shrug, draping an arm over the mannequin positioned at the store’s front display. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

The other shoppers were actively avoiding looking in your direction, but you could still feel their curious glances either way. Somehow you doubted that Illyrian warriors and sirens were the usual crowd at this lingerie store.

The pretty shopkeeper approaches you with a bright smile and nearly swoons in Cassian’s presence. “Did you two need any help?”

You could’ve sworn that you caught a glimpse of Cassian flexing his biceps underneath his leathers as he points at the sheer underclothes hanging off the mannequin. “Yes, actually. Do you have this in cobalt blue?” He leans in conspiratorially and the female blushes. A shameless flirt, that one. “It’s a birthday present for my brother.”

It’s your turn to flush as the shopkeeper smiles, taking in the silky negligee and its intricate lace pattern. The fabric wouldn’t even cover your pinky finger, much less your entire torso.

“He’s joking,” you interject with mortified laughter. “But we appreciate the offer. You have a lovely store.”

“Of course, my lady. Let me know if anything catches your eye.”

Once she’s out of earshot, you swat Cassian over the head.

“Ow!” He exclaims dramatically, narrowing his eyes at you with accusation as he rubs the back of his neck. “What was that for?”

“For telling a random stranger that I plan on wearing a shoelace for Azriel’s birthday.”

Your friend rolls his eyes. “Come on, Az will love it.”

You groan. Your mate's birthday was only a few days away and you have yet to find a suitable present for him. Between buying decorations, ordering all of Azriel’s favorite dishes, and making sure everyone’s schedule matched up for the surprise party at the end of the week, shopping got pushed to the side. The problem with buying Azriel a present is that it needed to be perfect. You knew he’d appreciate any gift from you, but you wanted it to be heartfelt and personal. Your mate put so much thought and care into everything he did for you, it was the least you could do to return the favor.

Perhaps you were putting way too much pressure on yourself, but this was Azriel. He deserved the best of the best.

“Be serious, Cas. I only have a few days left to figure this out.”

“I am being serious!” Cassian exclaims. “If Nes got this for me on my birthday, I’d be a very happy male.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

That earned the Illyrian general another thwack on the head. “Nudity is not the solution to everything.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ve never met a problem that couldn’t be solved by getting naked.”

“I knew I should’ve asked Rhys to come with me instead,” you mumble under your breath.

“One, I’m highly offended. Two, Rhysand would have told you to buy Az something ridiculous like a palace or a pegasus.”

Cassian had a point. The High Lord had a tendency to go overboard when it came to presents. Last Winter Solstice, Feyre had to talk him out of buying a boat for Nyx. What a toddler needed a boat for, you had no idea, but Rhys was convinced that his son absolutely needed one after a swim in the Sidra.

“Do you think it’s too late to ask Helion for one of his?” You say half-jokingly. At this point, you weren’t above begging the High Lord of Day if it meant making your mate happy.

“Helion’s more likely to invite both you and Azriel into his bed than give you one of his most prized possessions. Cauldron knows he’s been trying to get Az to agree to it for centuries.”

You snort. “Can��t blame him. The High Lord has great taste.”

“So do I,” Cassian declares with a huff. “Which is why I think you should buy this.” He waves a hand to the skimpy negligee again. “While you’re at it, throw in some handcuffs. You two may have everyone else fooled, but I know what you and Az get up to. It’s always the quiet ones that you have to watch out for.”

You slapped his arm, nearly choking with laughter. If only he knew what Azriel was really like in bed. Everyone always said that Cassian and Nesta were the worst out of the mated couples, but you and your mate couldn’t keep your hands off of each other for nearly a full decade after accepting the bond and a handful of those encounters may or may not have involved whips, chains, and handcuffs. Sometimes all three.

“You’re just mad that Azriel has the biggest wingspan.”

After much contemplation, you, Feyre, and Nesta finally decided to put the argument to rest and measured each of your respective mates and the verdict was final. It was officially confirmed that Azriel did in fact have the biggest wingspan out of the three brothers. Rhys and Cas were in obvious denial, but the ironic part was that Feyre’s wings were the biggest of them all.

“I haven’t heard any complaints this far, so I’d say I’m faring quite well.”

“Focus, Cas.” You drag him out of the store and into the busy street. Shops flank you from both sides and while you bopped in and out of them, you found nothing of note. “Between planning the party and hiding the fact that I’m planning said party from Az, I’ve been a nervous wreck. Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret from him? He's literally the Spymaster. Not to mention, I don't even know if he’s going to like it. Oh gods, what if he hates it?”

“He’s going to love it.” Cassian remarks, striding along the Sidra. “And if he doesn’t, there’s always the threesome with Helion.”

You groan in frustration, rubbing your temples. “That’s not funny, Cas.”

Cassian’s face softens as he nudges you with his hip. “You really care about this, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. It’s Azriel. I want it to be special.”

“And it will be,” your friend says reassuringly. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this birthday party and Az will see that. My brother is a simple male. All he really wants is for his loved ones to be happy.”

“I know,” you say with a sigh. “I just want everything to be perfect. He does so much for me, for all of us. I want him to feel how loved he is.”

Cassian smiles. “I’m glad,” his eyes meet yours and his voice is softer when he speaks again. “I’m glad Azriel has you. I knew it was hard for him when Rhys and I found our mates, but then you came along and…I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this. You bring out a different side of him. He’s happier, lighter even, and he’s finally accepted the love that he’s deserved all along. I’ve always wanted that for him.”

Your eyes brim with tears. Cassian has seen Azriel in his darkest times. Stood by him through war, sickness, and hardships that no one should ever have to endure. It meant a lot to hear him say that.

The bond between you and Azriel wasn’t always easy. There were walls and barriers that you two had to break through to get where you are now, but you continue to choose to love each other day after day.

You swipe a tear away and Cas ruffles your hair. “Hey, none of that. Azriel would kick my ass if he knew I made you cry.”

Cassian drapes an arm over your shoulder while you sniffle. “Don't worry, I’m sure you’ll come up with the perfect present. With Nes, I just choose gifts that I know would mean a lot to her. Sometimes it’s the simple things in life that we cherish the most.”

“When did you become such a romantic?” You tease.

“What can I say? The mating bond has made an honest male out of me.”

“Thank you, Cas. For helping with the party and coming out with me today.”

The breeze blows through Cassian’s raven locks as he smiles down at you. “And thank you. For loving my brother the way that you do.”

“I’m lucky to have him,” you say with a smile. “I think that’s what makes this so hard. Azriel deserves the damn moon and stars.”

Cassian chuckles. “If only you could wrap up the skies and tie it up in a neat bow, you wouldn’t need me as a shopping companion.”

Just like that, the idea takes form in your mind. You dart out into the cobblestone streets so quickly that you nearly trip over your own feet. “Cas, you’re a genius!”

You’re already several paces ahead of him before Cassian could even comprehend what was happening. “Where in the Cauldron are you going?”

“To get my mate the perfect present!”

When Azriel’s birthday finally rolls around, you had everything planned down to the tiniest detail. The townhouse was decorated, the food was plated, and with the exception of the High Lord and your mate, the members of the Inner Circle were all gathered on your roof.

“Rhys says Azriel just left the house.” Feyre announces as she drapes streamers from the rafters. Rhysand had been vital in making sure your mate would be out of the house this afternoon so you and the others could set everything up. They were debriefing on reports from the Continent while you put the finishing touches for tonight’s party.

Nyx darts in between Feyre’s legs and tugs at your hand. He’s dragging a framed painting that was nearly double his size behind him. He bounces on the balls of his feet excitedly. “Can uncle Az open my gift first? Mommy helped me paint him in her studio.”

You chuckle, peeking behind his back. The painting was indeed of Azriel and it even included an adorable depiction of your mate’s dancing shadows and glowing blue siphons, complete with his signature wings. “Of course, Nyx. I’m sure uncle Az will love it. We can even hang it up in his office.”

The adorable toddler claps his hands together as Feyre scoops him up into her arms. “Remember, love. We have to hide and be very quiet so we can surprise your uncle.”

Nyx nods, placing a finger to his lips. You can't help but pinch his cheek.

“Ready?” The High Lady asks you with a smile.

You nod at your friend. “Let’s go, everyone. Az is on his way.”

You signal for the rest of your guests to get into their hiding place. Mor and Amren duck behind the table containing the food and drinks, while Nesta and Cassian scamper towards the reading hammock Azriel built for you last summer. Elain and Lucien take cover behind the cushioned seats that you, Feyre, and Mor often lounged in when it was sunny out. Feyre and Nyx squeezed in next to them as you made your way downstairs.

You open the door just as Azriel lands in front of your home. A smile instantly brightens his face when he sees you walking towards him. When he looks at you like that, it feels like time itself was standing still to savor the beauty of your mate.

Gods, you were so in love with him that it hurt.

Tucking his wings tightly behind him, Azriel lifts you off the ground and greets you with a kiss. You giggle as he twirls you around before setting you down.

“I have a surprise for you.” you say with a smile. You wave a blindfold in the air, causing Azriel to raise a brow. The devious smirk that made its way onto his beautiful face made you chuckle. “Not that kind of surprise.”

“Too bad,” Azriel says with a laugh. “It’s been a while since we used one of those.”

“There’s plenty of time for that later,” you say with a wink. “But for now, it’s meant to cover your eyes.”

He crouches down, allowing you to tie the fabric behind his head. After ensuring that he couldn’t peek through the blindfold, you slowly guide him towards the door. Rhys winnows in behind you and slips past Azriel with a wink.

Your mate’s shadows peer over his shoulder in curiosity, but they keep silent as you continue to lead Azriel further into the house. Sometimes you couldn’t believe that all of this was real. As you looked around with fresh eyes, you could see traces of the life you lived with Azriel. The neat stacks of your favorite books that lined the walls, which your mate insisted on sorting alphabetically, reminded you of all the nights that you sat under the stars reading together.

The kitchen floor where you sat together, giggling like children as you spoiled your dinner with sweets just because you could. The bed that you crawled into every night, cocooned in the safety of Azriel’s arms with your limbs tangled together like you were afraid that he’d disappear if you didn’t hold onto him tightly enough.

As if sensing your thoughts, Azriel squeezed your hand. It was his way of telling you that he was here and that he wasn’t going anywhere. You squeeze back three times.

I love you.

The golden faelights glow against the setting sun just as you step out onto the rooftop.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Azriel obliges just as everyone pops out from their hiding place.

“Surprise!”

Azriel hasn’t stopped smiling since he stepped foot on the roof. You weren’t sure how your mate was going to react since he usually avoided being the center of attention at all costs, but as everyone watched him open his gifts, you could tell that he was genuinely happy to have his family celebrating with him.

Nyx’s gift was obviously in the lead for most adorable. Azriel was basically putty in the little Illyrian’s hands and he knew he had his uncle wrapped around his finger. Rhys and Feyre were up next.

The High Lord slides a key towards Azriel and your eyes widen.

“Don’t worry,” Rhys says with a grin. “It’s not what you think it is. Feyre darling and I spoke with Tarquin and he’s lending you one of his properties in Adriata for a week. You’re free to take the time off whenever you want. You two lovebirds have certainly earned it.”

Azriel’s eyes meet yours and you feel a playful tug down the bond. You had a feeling that you’d hardly get any sleep on the vacation that Rhys and Feyre so kindly offered.

A mischievous grin touches Azriel’s lips. “Thank you, that’s incredibly thoughtful of you both.”

“You’ve never offered me and Nesta a vacation in Adriata,” Cassian jests.

Rhys rolls his eyes. “Unlike you, Azriel isn’t banned from the Summer Court. Tarquin would have a heart attack if you so much as think about stepping foot within his borders.”

The Illyrian general crosses his arms. “It was one building!”

Nothing topped a stay at the Summer Court, but the rest of Azriel’s presents were still incredibly thoughtful and sweet. Amren gifted him with an incredibly rare history book that looked like it was nearly as old as her. Cassian presented him with a scabbard that had three sets of wings engraved on the soft leather, symbolizing the bond between Azriel and his brothers.

Nesta approached next with a leatherbound journal that had Azriel’s initials stamped on the cover. Everyone braced themselves for Mor’s questionable choices when it came to gift giving, but she surprised everyone with a cask of fine wine that was made in the year that Az was born. Elain and Lucien were up next and the couple’s gift was a combined effort. Elain provided a small lemon tree while Lucien planted it in your backyard.

Finally, everyone turns to you.

“I’m saving mine for later.”

Cassian claps Azriel on the shoulder. “You’ll be thanking me later, brother. I helped her pick it out.”

“Mother save me,” Azriel mutters under his breath.

It’s nearly midnight when the party finally winds down. As you wave the last of your friends off, you and Azriel head back upstairs and sit side by side on the hammock. His wings cocoon you with warmth while you sit under the stars. You felt incredibly grateful that somehow, someway, you and Azriel found each other.

Your mate wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek. “Thank you, my love. Tonight was amazing.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” you ask, peering up at him through your lashes. He pulls you closer, burying his cheek into your neck.

“It’s hard not to with you by my side. I couldn’t have asked for a better day.”

You sit up, retrieving a small box from your pocket. “I'm not done celebrating you yet."

Azriel takes the velvet box from your hands and carefully unravels the ribbon tied around it. You watch in anticipation as he pulls out the small crystal orb. At first glance, the glass is small and unassuming, but that was the point.

“Tap it.”

Your mate holds up the orb and nudges it with his fingers. The crystal comes alive with the night sky, the moon and stars shining brightly within its reflection. If you looked closely enough, you could see the mountain peaks rising up from the horizon while the heavens sparkled with showers of light.

“It’s what the stars looked like on the night we met,” you explain softly. “Cassian actually gave me the idea and Rhys helped me retrieve the memory. I found a small shop that was able to contain it in this orb. Do you remember?”

Hazel eyes search your face as he nods slowly. “How could I ever forget? It was your first Starfall. When you walked in wearing that blue dress, I think I knew. Even then, I knew it was you.”

You smile, full and bright, just for him. The memory of that night was so vivid, it felt like it was just yesterday. As one of your oldest friends, Rhys had invited you to celebrate Starfall with the rest of his Court. You were only meant to visit for one night, but you ended up staying for longer than you ever expected.

You and Azriel just clicked. As soon as you saw him, there was this unexplainable pull. It was like he'd become your center of gravity. You spent the whole night talking on the balcony and getting to know one another. When the sun finally rose, neither one of you wanted to let the other go.

So you never really did.

“I did too. When I looked at you, it was like I’d finally found the answer to every wish I made on every shooting star. You gave me the moon and stars that night and every night after, so I’m giving it back.”

Azriel kisses you gently, squeezing your hand three times. I love you.

“I’d give you the whole damn sky if you asked me to,” he says as he kisses the tip of your nose. Azriel cups your cheek, his hazel eyes full of adoration. “I love it and I love you. I have since the night we met.”

When you kiss him, you thanked the heavens above for granting you all you’ve ever asked for and more. Forever and always, Azriel was your wish come true. The shooting star that lit up your night sky.

“Happy birthday, Az.”

#azriel #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #sjm books #sjm #masterlist #jess writes

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perlukafarinn · 4 years ago

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coda to 15x20, not because i liked it but because i hated it and it needed fixing. don’t mistake anything in here as justifying the choices made in the finale, i just needed to fix it up in order to write an actually happy ending

Dean doesn’t know how long he’s been driving - it feels simultaneously like ten minutes, ten hours, ten days. He’s not sure how time works in heaven.

Not sure how prayer works, either, or at least has forgotten since the last time he was here. Either way, it might be different now, with Jack in charge. Dean just has to hold on tight and pray and hope that just once more, he gets an answer.

He feels it before he lands and then Cas is there, in the corner of his eye, sitting in the shotgun seat.

Dean wants to pull over, pull Cas into his arms. Doesn’t. He’s got stuff he needs to say and it’s easier to get out like this, hands on the steering wheel and eyes on the road.

“So,” he says. “Got out of the empty?”

“Yes,” Cas answers and Dean can hear the smile on his lips, can picture it, tender and proud. “Jack has grown so much.”

Dean clears his throat, uncertain of how to continue.

“I’m sorry you died,” Cas says as the silence grows too long.

“Yeah, me too. Sorry your big sacrifice was all for nothing.”

Cas puts his hand on Dean’s arm, tugging, and now Dean has to pull over. He’s not sure if cars can crash in heaven and he’s not eager to find out. He kills the engine and finally, reluctantly looks at Cas.

He looks... the same. Maybe a little more relaxed, a little less tense around the eyes.

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Cas says. His hand is still on Dean’s arm, warm and heavy. “Dean, if you had died then who knows how things would have ended? Chuck might have won, Jack and Sam could be dead, and you wouldn’t have gotten the rest you deserve. It truly would all have been for nothing.”

His eyes soften, his grip relaxing. “Of course I wish it hadn’t come to you so soon. You had earned a long life, it shouldn’t have ended so quick. But I’m not sorry I saved you and I don’t regret what it cost me. And I don’t regret...” he takes a deep breath, for the first time looking hesitant. “I don’t regret telling you I loved you.”

Dean laughs. It’s weak, wavering. At some point he started crying, full-on weeping in a way he’d have been embarrassed to let anyone see before. He’s not embarrassed now.

“You’re kind of scooping my big speech here,” Dean admits. “I had a whole thing planned out.”

Cas looks him over. Dean has never seen this look on his face before, this mixture of fear and hope, and he hates and loves that he has this power. But he’s damn well not gonna misuse it, not anymore.

“You- you can’t just tell a guy you love him and then die on him without waiting for an answer.”

“I wasn’t aware you had an answer,” Cas says softly.

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugs. “I didn’t really, not right then. But if I can’t nut up and tell the guy I’ve been in l-love with,” he blushes, ducking his eyes as he stumbles on the word, “for fucking years how I feel, even after we’re both dead, then when can I?”

He waits. Shoulder tense, stomach coiling, and how is it that even now, with everything on the table between them, he’s still so scared?

He startles when Cas’ hand lands on his shoulder. Looks up, gaze catching Cas’, and his breath stutters at the wonder, at the overwhelming love and adoration in Cas’ eyes.

“Dean.” Cas raises his hand, brings it up to cup Dean’s cheek, and Dean leans into the touch without even meaning to.

Before he can lose his nerve, Dean leans in.

It’s like coming home.

#deancas #destiel #spn fanfic #episode coda #perlukafarinn writes #first kiss #post-canon #you know what? writing this actually made me feel better #i'm just glad to know this mess of a finale didn't kill off my love for these two #and i know we'll treat them better now that they're out of the show writers' hands #spn spoilers

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icefire149 · 3 years ago

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Certain parts of season 14 and 15 just rub me the wrong way. Everything about the shift when Mary dies again to set up conflict between Dean and Cas just doesn’t hit right. So here’s a new way I’d do it:

Jack still accidentally murders Mary, but after zipping around the Earth in a panic, he goes to Castiel. He has no fear that he’ll lose Cas over this. It’s Sam and Dean that he’s worried about. Especially Dean since he was horrible when he was born. Dean only more recently seemed like he really cared about him. He can’t mess this up. Jack brings Cas back to the house and explains what happened.

We know Cas is a strategist and his mind would be in overdrive, because of course the Winchesters weren’t going to be okay with any of this. Hell, he’s barely keeping it together. Mary was his friend. But, Jack is his child and responsibility. And he loves him too much to let him suffer. So he devises a plan: Nick was trying to summon Lucifer from the Empty. He was succeeding. Jack and Mary were trying to stop him and Lucifer obliterated Mary. Jack wasn’t quick enough but he was able to send Lucifer back into the Empty and in a rage killed Nick. Now Jack is panicking because it’s still his fault, but not his fault. It’s Nick and Lucifer’s. And Jack while being mostly soulless is still a bit hesitant to weave such a lie to their family, but he agrees. Cas reassures him that the Winchesters will be devastated, but they’ll understand better this way. As a family, all of them will be able to grieve and move on eventually. Because: Nick shouldn’t have done what he did. It was high tension and everyone was upset, and it was inevitable an accident happened. It was just a terrible accident.

Distraught, Jack asks if there’s anything they can do to fix things? If they can bring Mary back? If they had a body....maybe. This leads Jack to want to see Rowena to see if she could just bring Mary back. They decide to try, but stick to the story. Cas gets zapped back to his truck and Jack goes to Rowena. So we have the similar situation where Jack in a panic tries to force Rowena to fix things and she tries, but also still tips off the Winchesters. Still the magic doesn’t work and Jack is scared. Sam and Dean get to the house and are a mess trying to make heads or tails of the mess. Automatically the blame is on Jack. They’ve been worried about his soul. He must have gone completely dark side. And we’ll note that Dean is the one crawling out of his skin pacing and ranting. Sam is more withdrawn. Jack flies into Cas’ truck when he’s almost there. Cas goes into the house first. He tells Jack to wait in the truck. Cas bars the doorway with his body while he tries to explain the ‘tale’ Jack told him in the car and how devastated he is over Mary and terrified of what they, Sam & Dean, will do next.

Dean believes Cas. It’s Cas. His anger rolls into grief & tears. His mom died. How did he get here where he has to bury her again. Cas comforts Dean with soft touch and words. He’s sorry. He’s so sorry. Cas gives into his own grief a bit. It’s Sam that continues to stand there in quiet rage. It’s like his whole lifetime of trauma is torn open again. And now there’s this new angry wound that’s only festered since Amara brought Mary back. Yes, he should be grateful that he’s gotten to know her at all, but.....it was never right. She never stayed long enough to really know him. Emotionally her bond with Dean was always stronger. He was always just a fly on the wall. She was his mom too. And now...even Cas is crying more than him. When the hell was she ever anything to him? Sam’s anger spirals, but he’s trying to keep it down. He keeps going over the house there. Something about everything isn’t sitting right with him. There’s something off. He knows it.

So with the funeral and going home to the bunker, things feel flipped. Jack and Cas were most worried about Dean, but it’s Sam they should be worried about. Dean is angry and upset, but he’s not blaming Jack. He’s actually trying to be there for Jack. This development has Cas over the moon, because this is all he ever wanted. For them to be a family. While Dean fell into the cycle of his father’s anger when Cas died s12/13....this time he’s being what he/John should have been. And Sam is the one sinking into John’s cycle of anger. Sam’s the one drinking a bit more. He’s quiet, but there’s an anger that’s clearly there. He’s distancing himself from Jack and Cas. Eventually he blows up and admits that he blames Jack and his soullessness. For all they know he hurt her / let her get hurt purposely. Which gets Cas angry and Sam flat out admits that he doesn’t trust Cas’ word. Something feels off to him, and this isn’t the first time Cas has tried to go behind their backs. He has quite the history of it.

This causes Sam, Dean, and Cas to go at it yelling. Jack overhears some and blames himself for ruining everything again. He’s been nothing but trouble for their family. Maybe it would be better if he just left. So he does. This ties us back to Jack being manipulated by Heaven. Dean and Cas are out trying to find him. All ties back in to Jack goes home and finds Sam alone in the bunker. And it’s easy to fall back into the trust Jack has always had with Sam. He’s always had Jack’s back. And he manipulates Jack, telling him that they’ve worked out a spell to bring Mary back. They altered the malak box spell work to harness and focus Jack’s powers. It should be enough. Dean and Cas will be back any minute with Rowena. Jack eagerly believes him and does as he’s told. Jack gets in the box and he stares up at Sam nervous. Sam tells him that there’s nothing to worry about anymore. Cas told them everything. They can fix things now. And Jack looks at him confused, everything? Sam presses that yes, Cas explained how it was an accident. Jack breathes a sigh of relief and then crumbles into tears, how he didn’t mean to. He asked her to stop, but she wouldn’t give him a moment to breathe and then..it was an accident. He didn’t mean to hurt her. And cold as ice Sam goes, I know, and closes the lid. Locking the box.

It’s a while before Dean and Cas make it back. Jack has enough time to completely unravel in his grief, and anger, and realization that Sam lied and tricked him. Everyone keeps manipulating him and lying. Dean and Cas get back and start arguing with Sam. Just like in the show, Jack breaks out and leaves. Sam still goes into it explaining the truth he got from Jack. Cas LIED. He covered up Mary’s death. He’s known the truth all along. Dean refuses to believe Sam. He’s mistaken.

Things roll into Moriah and Jack makes it so no one can lie. And because of that the truth finally comes out of Cas’ mouth. And Dean breaks. He tells Cas that he’s dead to him. Cas leaves to look for Jack on his own. Dean’s fury goes in on Jack. He never should have gotten attached. Jack was always a monster. All of this rolls into Chuck’s return and manipulation. He pushes Dean to kill Jack. And the puzzle pieces click into place for Sam. He realizes how much this is all a game to Chuck. Chuck pulled the strings to make every bad thing that’s happened in his life happen just for his own entertainment: Mom, their childhood, dad’s shitty parenting, Jess, demon deals, demon blood, Dean going to Hell, Ruby, the apocalypse, visions, unanswered prayers, EVERYTHING..... Chuck’s newest episode of entertainment was causing Jack to accidentally kill Mary and have to live with the consequences of losing his only family over it. Sam’s anger goes directly into Chuck.

He needs to get to Dean. Meanwhile Dean finds Cas and Jack in the cemetery. Cas gets between them and tries to talk Dean down. Dean is shaking with fury. He’s never been this mad before. He hated Jack for being born and getting Cas killed, and then he grew to love the kid as family, and he hates him for making him feel this much. He killed his mom, and lied about it. Cas tries to explain that he was trying to protect all of them. He was trying to maintain their family. Dean coldly goes, there’s no family here to maintain. I’m a hunter. Saving people and hunting monsters is the family business, and....I see two monsters in front of me. And he holds the equalizer up, shakily. Jack sends Cas flying so he can approach Dean. He understands what Dean has to do. He accepts it and he’s sorry. Jack gets on his knees and waits. Dean can’t quite do it. He’s trying.

Sam and Chuck get there. Sam starts yelling how Chuck set this whole thing up. Chuck is trying to make Dean do this...for his own entertainment. And everything rolls back into what the actual show did. Dean can’t kill Jack and Sam shoots Chuck. Everything continues to roll similarly as s15 did, but the divorce arc is leaning heavily on Dean is angry about Cas betraying him.

#spn #save #i hope this makes sense because i haven't reread it yet. i'm just seeing these ideas tie together in a painful vision

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plus-size-reader · 4 years ago

Text

Sport

Billy Loomis x Plus size!reader x Stu Macher x Plus!size reader

Word Count: 1871 words

Warnings: Usual horror warning stuff.

Summary: The reader starting a friendship with Casey Becker for a bit in order to start off the whole murder thing

—————————————————————————————————

You never really wanted to be her friend.

There was nothing wrong with Casey Becker, of course, but you didn’t care too much for anyone in Woodsboro. Aside from Billy and Stu, you sort of saw the rest of them as a sort of inconvenience, but that didn’t mean you weren’t a team player.

The plan you and your boys were taking on was nearly a year in the making, and whatever it was you had to do to make it go off without a hitch, you would do. Even if that meant playing nice with someone you couldn’t have found more dull.

Which was exactly why you were here in the first place.

You each had a role to play in this whole thing. Billy had a handle on Sydney, Stu managed most of the business with Tatum, and you were in charge of figuring out everything with Casey Becker.

To start off a murder spree like you had planned, you couldn’t just jump right into it with the main focus of your anger, or so Billy had informed you. This all had to go according to his plan and to lead up to the main event, and Casey was the perfect ice breaker.

Stu hated her, Billy hated everyone, and it didn’t hurt that Steve Oris had been added in there at some point, who made you increasingly uncomfortable.

It just worked out that way, but you had to find a way to get in and get information, which they guys just couldn’t get. Billy approaching her out of nowhere would be too suspicious, and she and Stu didn’t get along.

That was why it had to be you.

After Marleen Prescott’s death, you had plenty of time to get on her good side without putting yourself in a place where you would ever be a suspect. If nothing else, after the deed was done, you could play the heartbroken best friend.

No one would ever put the pieces together, but you got all you needed. Casey trusted you, she cared about you, and that meant you knew everything that was going on in her life. That included, among quite a bit of other crap, when her parents would be home, when they wouldn’t, and what she would be doing with Steve.

She never had a prayer, not after you started that conversation with her at school.

...And after all this time, tonight was the night.

You made your way to the house, as you had pretty often at this point in your friendship without anything out of the ordinary. Anyone looking in would have just seen two best friends, ready to hang out and have a good time, though the truth was far more sinister.

Somewhere, headed this way was Steve Oris undoubtedly going to meet up with Stu and Billy before getting anywhere near his girlfriend tonight.

Not that you were going to get off easy just because time was ticking down for them. You still had to finish this whole thing out strong, even if there was a little bit of wiggle room.

No matter what happened, Casey wasn’t getting out of her alive, but just because you could loosen up a little didn’t mean you could be reckless. You still had plenty of time to kill, and the night was far from over.

After all, you had just knocked on her front door.

“Open the door” you called, knocking a few times on her front door. You were friends, best friends in her eyes, but you had become so in the perfect way.

No one would even know you were here, with the only person familiar with you being Casey, who wouldn’t live to incriminate you.

“I thought I told you that Steve and I were hanging out tonight, I’m just waiting for him to get here” she hummed, opening the door with an almost apologetic look on her face. She had told you, of course, but you didn’t care.

You knew something that she didn’t.

“I’ll just keep you company till he shows up, besides, I brought ice cream” you tried, presenting the bag to her as proof that you had really just come to hang out with her. It was her all time favorite flavor, cookies and cream, which you knew she couldn’t turn down.

So, she let you in.

You followed her into the house, closing the door behind you, though you decided to leave it unlocked. It was a casual action, one that the blonde didn’t even notice as she made her way into the kitchen, intent on putting on some popcorn.

She still had a movie night planned with Steve, after all.

You were casual as you moved through the foyer of the house, just barely catching a glimpse of Billy in one of the far windows. Clearly, Steve would be a little preoccupied, or at least, far too busy for popcorn, .

“I guess I should just put the ice cream in the freezer” you decided, talking more to yourself than anything as you passed behind her, opening the door casually. You had been here enough times before to know what you were doing.

In fact, you were almost sure that not even Casey knew this house as well as you did. You had been doing extensive research over it, all these months, keeping track of what was where and who would be in the house on certain nights of the week.

You were good at this, lying and all that.

So good that you didn’t even flinch when you heard the phone start ringing on the hook, which Casey was quick to retrieve all the way in the living room. All you could do was stand still for a moment, doing your best to listen in to figure out who was on the other line.

She spoke for a few moments before hanging up, and when it rang a second time, you knew for sure who it was.

It was happening.

There was a noticeable change in the space after she picked the phone up a second time, with the air growing more and more still with each breath she took. Clearly, something was wrong and while you briefly considered to act concerned, you abandoned that quickly.

Keeping up appearances wouldn’t matter now.

“Boo”

The blonde jumped, understandably given the circumstances, when you spoke behind her. Between the things Billy was muttering through the phone and the fact that Steve still wasn’t here, she was stressing herself out.

“Who’s on the phone?” you mouthed, holding your hand up to your face like a mock phone. Something had changed in your demeanor since how you were before and this moment but she didn’t even have time to process it.

Too much was happening at once.

When she didn’t answer, you couldn’t help but sigh, plopping down against the armchair in her living room. After all this time, this was what you were doing this for? You just had to sit back and watch her pace around.

It was hardly the excitement Billy had promised you.

Gingerly, you leaned back to stretch the muscles in your back, your arms over your head for a moment. Glancing behind you, there was just enough of the patio visible to you for you to catch a bit of something there in the darkness but you couldn’t make it out.

Not that you had to be a rocket scientist to figure it out.

By the time Casey caught on though, there was screaming and begging and freaking out going on which made it a little difficult to relax.

“We have to get out of here” she decided, under her breath, the sicko on the phone still occupying most of her attention. The blonde was in a full panic, and had yet to connect the dots, fairly assuming you had no part in this.

Though, as soon as she said it, Casey noticed that you didn’t seem even a bit concerned by what was happening.

Something was wrong with you.

All at once, she went through several possibilities. She thought that maybe you were in shock, still a little lost over what was going down over the phone, or that maybe you just weren’t the kind to panic.

...but the truth was obvious.

You clearly weren’t surprised by this.

Then, before she could really come to any real conclusion, you grinned, standing from your place and walking across the room. You didn’t stop until you reached the patio doors, allowing yourself to gaze out into the darkness for a moment before flicking on the light.

Billy was still spouting horrors into her ear, but the girl could only focus on you, trying to figure out what was happening. Though, she didn’t get very far before even more panic set in. Evidently, he’d asked her his first question, and she’d gotten it wrong.

Of course she had.

All in all, it was a trick. Stu had come up with it, knowing that only real horror buffs like the three of you could really answer it. The added panic only served to guarantee that she’d get it wrong, not that any of that even mattered.

Once she spoke his name, “Jason”, you flicked the light off again, waiting for the auditory cue from Billy to turn it back on. Of course, when you did, Steve’s insides were splayed all over the pavement, dripping out of him like wax onto a birthday cake.

“You lost, you know the rules” you shrugged, turning around carelessly toward the kitchen.

“You smell burning?” you asked, briefly taking note of the fire that had started on the stovetop, long forgotten between Casey answering the phone, and Steve’s untimely death. At this point, she was a blubbering mess, which couldn’t have been more boring.

Surely your job here was done.

“Hey Cas? I think the front door is unlocked, you should probably go check that” you teased, taking the phone from the girl, and sitting back down in the chair you’d previously been in, as she scrambled in that direction.

It wouldn’t have mattered how quickly she went, as Stu was surely already in the house, but that didn’t phase you either. In truth, the actual killing was of no interest to you at all.

That was really where the boys came in.

You just liked the sport of it all.

“How’d I do?” you asked, casually placing the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you made your way out the broken patio door, which had gotten shattered shortly after Steve took his final breath.

You were careful to avoid the glass, making quick strides of it as you listened to Billy breathing into the phone. He didn’t answer you, of course, with Casey having gotten outside at some point, making him her problem but you didn’t mind.

You just kept walking until you found a nice little tree swing on the other side of the yard to sit in while you waited. They would be done soon enough anyway, and then you could go home and get a shower or something.

Maybe you’d even give Sidney a call for an alibi.

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draco-and-tom · 4 years ago

Text

Whose name?- George Weasley

WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, Dom!George, slight dry humping, Public sex, Unprotected sex, teasing, jealousy, slight hickey kink, possessive kink

A/N: barely edited on 3/29/21 for accuracy.

You were so excited for the summer this year. Normally you hate going home, but this year you get to spend it with your boyfriend. Your parents aren't normally nice to you, so when George told you that you could stay all summer you were ecstatic. All five of you walked inside the cozy home and set your trunks down. “I know it’s not much and you're going to have to sleep with me an-” you walk over to George quickly and hug him tightly “thank you,” you say into his chest. When you pull away you see a big smile on his face and can't help but smile back. He was the sweetest person you’ve ever known. “Come on then,” he said, grabbing your hand to hold in one of his, the other holding both of you’s trunks. You wave to the rest of the group as you walk up the stairs to Fred and George’s room. As room as the door opens you look at him, not able to help the huge smile that comes across your face. “I love it here,” you say “which bed is yours?”. George points to a bed and smiles. You walk over to your boyfriend’s bed and lay down, “Everything is so cozy”. George chuckled “glad you like it, love,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I don't know why you thought I wouldn't like sleeping with yall. I mean come on….. I get to snuggle with George Weasley” you laugh and he lays down with you. “You would like that huh?” he asked, wrapping you in his arms, you humming in response. “Love you” you mumbled, “love you too darling”.

You wake up to an owl squawking at your window. George could sleep through almost anything, not that he had a choice with how many siblings he has. You get up and walk over to the window opening it for the bird. You recognized the owl, it was Oliver's. You take the letter from the bird’s beak and read who it’s for. To: Fred & George. From: Oliver Wood You walk over to where your boyfriend is sleeping and smile at how peaceful he looked. You pepper George’s face with kisses, not being able to help yourself. George starts to wiggle in his sleep before he smirks with his eyes closed. You noticed, but keep on kissing him. “Nice way to wake up might I say” George opens his eyes to look at you when you stop kissing him. You rolled your eyes “Sorry” you said, trying not to blush, but feeling your cheeks burn. He chuckled “no please don't be sorry. It’s adorable honestly.” He leaned in and gave you a soft meaning full kiss before pulling away. “What’s that?” he said pointing to the letter. “Oliver wrote to you and Fred” George closed his eyes and put his hands over his face mumbling something like “goddammit Fred, fucking ass-” you pulled his hands away and could tell he was frustrated “What’s wrong?”. George looked up at you and rolled his eyes “Fred invited Oliver to play quidditch. I told him not to invite him” he groaned “It’s hard not to punch him in the face when he’s looking at you like he would take you up against the wall”. You blushed “George...he doesn’t like me like that. And even if he did I love you and only you. I'm all yours.” George nods. “Promise?” he asked “I promise”. George leaned up and kissed you softly and kissed you passionately. You kissed back, loving the feeling of his lips touching yours. You could always tell how much he cared when he kissed you. George flipped you over to where he was on top and started to kiss down your neck. You began to whimper as he sucked a mark on your skin until his hands started to tickle your sides. “AH GEORGE STOP THAT YOU T-TWAT” you screamed through your laughter. George stopped and you both laughed. “Thanks, George I was kinda getting into that before you ruined it!” he smiled “I know. I mean you should’ve seen it. You were whimpering and I could see your lip quivering, I even heard my name a couple of times,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows and you. You blushed and rolled your eyes. You look over to see Fred in the doorway with an almost scared look on his face. “Bloody hell you two, get a room”

When Oliver arrives

You and George are cuddling on the couch and watching some muggle movie when Oliver opens the door he walks in and looks you up and down. “Hello there Y/N,” he said “Hey” you responded before looking at your boyfriend to find he was already looking at you and tightening his grip on your body. “Hey y/n” Oliver tried to get your attention. You gave George a reassuring peck on the lips before looking at Oliver “Yeah?” you asked. “What's that bruise on your neck?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look at it. “Well if you must know wood, it’s a hickey” Oliver backed up to his original spot and made a surprised face “hmm… kinda weird looking don't you think. It’s got a weird blob shape to it eh’? “. You rolled your eyes, starting to see what your boyfriend was talking about. You could feel George stiffen at his words. He tended to be confident in the moment, but self-conscious afterward. “Actually I like them,” you say looking at Oliver “you know sometimes I wish he would do it more often to be honest with you”. Oliver looked at you like he didn’t know what to say, so you turned your attention to someone more important, your boyfriend. George leaned over to whisper in your ear “Is that true love? Cause if so… I'm sure I can make some arrangements”. George pulled back to watch your reaction. You felt your cheeks get hot and look at your hands in your lap, biting your lip “Mhm” you mumble. George chuckles and kisses your cheek and you hear Oliver walk out of the room. “You know…” he whispered “I can't tell if seeing you flustered makes me want to fuck you into my mattress or cuddle with you, but I'm debating doing both,” he said, causing you to whimper. George kissed you on the cheeks and got up from his spot on the couch. “Well, I should go get the others so that we can plan out the whole quidditch thing,” he said. Once everyone was in the living room George and Fred spoke up “what are the teams?”. Ginny smiled “Well, I was thinking we could change our plans” she smirked. “Mom and Dad left a little while ago, so I thought we should play truth or dare”. Ron rolled his eyes “Really ginny, we aren't little kids anymore”. Ginny scoffed “Actually Ronald, you didn’t let me finish” you fought to keep in your laugh. Ron really does have a problem with cutting people off. “I was going to tell you that I have some veritaserum,” she said grabbing a glass bottle out of her pocket, “thought we’d make the steaks higher. If you refuse a dare, or pick truth, then you have to take some” she smirked. “Oh, I'm so in,” you and George said at the same time. George and you looked at each other and started laughing, making Oliver roll his eyes. The six of you all began to walk outside to the fire that Fred made for the game, before sitting in a circle beside it, Ginny set the bottle in the middle. “y/n” she asked “truth or dare”. You rolled your eyes and chuckled “truth”. She nodded her head and people around the circle laughed “okay. Take a drop” she gestured to the potion. You reach for the veritaserum and put a drop on your tongue. “Okay y/n” she giggles “Have you and George had sex, and if you have how good was he”. You can't stop the words from coming out of your mouth and immediately respond. “Oh yeah, a few times actually.” people around the circle laughed. “And for the second question… god yes. Don't even get me started on how good he feels,” you said “okay y/n that’s enough” but you continued “I mean god, I would be down to let him fuck me right now if you all weren't here.” Everyone in the circle starts to laugh except for Oliver and George. Oliver looked pissed and George was well smirking proudly. “I mean he knows a lot more than he’ll tell you I ca-” Ginny cuts you off, giggling “Okay y/n, we get it,” she said, trying to catch her breath “it’s another turn,” she said and turned to George. “Truth or dare?” she asked. “Do you even know me?!” he asked, pretending to be offended. Ginny rolled her eyes “I dare you to go have 40 minutes in heaven with y/n”. George smirked and grabbed your hand, pulling you with him back into the burrow. Once you were inside George kissed you “Did the potion wear off yet?”. You nodded your head, “I think so.”. He hums “Do you touch yourself thinking about me?” he asked. You looked down at the ground and blushed. “Yep. It’s worn off,” he said and pulled you over to the couch. He lightly pushed you onto the couch and climbed on top of you. George kissed you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling how hard he was. He took his lips off of yours and started trailing them down your neck, leaving marks along the way. “You’re already s-so hard” you whimpered “How could I not be? A few minutes ago you were bragging about how good I make you feel. As soon as you started talking I knew that I was going to have to take care of you later. Ginny’s a good wingman” he said, moving back up to your jawline. You whimpered at his words and the feel of his lips on your skin. “George I want you so bad. Please make me feel good” you said through your whimpers, causing his hips to buck against yours on accident. You moaned loud at the friction you’ve been needing. George smirks at your reaction, this time rolling his hips against yours on purpose. You moan louder “George! Please”. George moves his mouth up to your ear “Did you want something darling?” he asked. “Please fuck me George. I need you, all yours” you whine out. George groans “Damn right you are”. He gets off of you and starts to take off his clothes as quickly as possible, you soon follow his reactions. George moves over to the couch “come here beautiful” he said and you oblige. You get on top of him, unable to hold in your whines. You knew what was about to happen, George has fucked you like this before, It’s probably your favorite position. Your boyfriend helped you lift your hips and aligned himself with your throbbing pussy before slowly pushing your hips down. “Fuck you’ve got such a tight little hole” he grunts. George’s grip on your hips tightened as he lifted you off of his cock and slid you back down. George got faster with every thrust. He was fucking up into you and you lived for it. “George” you moaned loudly, making the boy fuck harder and deeper into you. You writhed above him, taking everything he gave you. You started feeling yourself clench around George’s cock. “I'm so close George'' you whined “Me too,” he said between uneven breaths. George’s movements stop for a moment, hearing the front door squeak. George looked to the door frame and saw Oliver looking at them, deciding to let him hear you. He was going to make it clear that when you moan, you moan for him and him only. You didn’t know that Oliver was there, you were feeling too good to pay attention to your surroundings. George pounded roughly into you. You cried out broken moans of his name with every thrust. George kept eye contact with Oliver. George could tell that Oliver was pissed and didn’t give a fuck, he wanted George's girl. “Who do you belong to again?” he growled “You!” you moaned out and tucked your head to suck marks on his skin. “I'm sorry darling. I didn’t catch their name” he groaned “who makes you feel this good?” you moaned louder for him “George Weasley!”. George smirked at Oliver and knew how close you were, you get louder and -if possible- tighter. You cum hard, tightening around George’s cock and whimpering his name. George couldn't handle going much longer after hearing your pretty little whimpers and came inside of you. You lift your head and look to see what George was staring at “oh, hey Oliver”

TAGLIST: @georgeswh0re

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birdiefw · 4 years ago

Text

LET ME SHOW YOU | SAM WINCHESTER [SMUT 18+]

Summary: Having been turned on all day, you decide you can’t wait any longer and lead somewhere more private.

Warnings: swearing, teasing, oral (female receiving), impala sex (unprotected but y’all can pretend otherwise)

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written an imagine, and technically this one is meant for my Sam Winchester fic on Wattpad so it wasn’t intended to be an imagine, but I figured it could work as one so here it is lmao. Also, destiel is pretty much implied in this, but you’re free to see Dean and Cas however you want. I also edited this, but I apologize for any errors or if it says her/she/birdie (who is my spn oc) instead of you/your/etc!

You felt like your entire body had been set on fire without warning. Your skin was incredibly warm as you tried to remain still, feeling like your body was getting hotter and hotter despite how cold it actually was inside the bunker. Your hair was pushed back so it would stop clinging to your neck/sides of your face, your mind unable to focus on your laptop that was placed in front of you as something else was taking over all of your senses.

You were very aware of the fact that you weren’t alone in the library, twisting and pursing your lips together as you tried to ignore the rampant thoughts that kept popping into your mind every time your gaze flickered over to Sam. But, every time your eyes fell on your husband, you couldn’t help but admire his stunning features, picturing all of the sides you’d seen of him in your many years of being a couple—some of which only made the ache between your legs increase.

You bit her lip when you looked away from him again, trying to force the thoughts aside; you desperately hoped you’d be alone soon.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up from your laptop that had started dim from your lack of actually doing anything on it in the last few minutes, eyes slightly widened as you looked across at Castiel who was sat in front of you, his bright blue eyes pinned to your features.

“What?” you asked, glancing aside at Sam and Dean who were both staring at you with confusion much like Castiel.

“We were askin’ if you found anything,” Dean said, noticing how your laptop had dimmed.

“Oh, uh, I—no. Not yet, anyways,” you answered with a heavy sigh, briefly glancing towards Sam before your eyes swiveled to Dean and then Castiel.

“Are you feeling okay?” Castiel wondered, curiously tilting his head at you. “You don’t look like you’re feeling well.”

“Thanks, Cas,” you sarcastically said, giving him a fake smile as you folded your arms over your chest and crossed your legs. “I can always count on you for a pick me up, can’t I?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, a faint frown appearing on his lips.

Sam’s lips turned into a frown, noting that you did look rather pale compared to usual. You looked slightly sweaty, eyes looking more dark than normal. You easily noticed the change in Sam’s expression, quickly shaking your head as you closed your laptop; there was no point in keeping it open, anyways. “I’m fine,” you firmly told him, giving him a look when you saw him shoot you a similar look.

“You sure?” Dean asked, curiously eyeing you from the seat next to you.

“Yes, I’m sure, Dean,” you said, flashing a perky smile on your lips as if it would assure the three men.

Dean shook his head with a small smile appearing on his lips, closing his own laptop. He could tell something was off with you, but knowing Sam wouldn’t let it go, he decided against pushing the subject. “Alright, whatever you say, Y/N,” he said. Then his eyes flickered over to Castiel, nudging his head to the side as he started to stand up from the table. “Come on, you still gotta finish watchin’ Seven.”

Castiel warmly smiled, looking at Sam and you as he stood up from the chair. “Night, guys.”

“Night, Cas,” you and Sam said in unison, smiling back at the angel.

Dean tucked his laptop under his arm, silently nodding towards his brother and you as he waited for Castiel. You and Sam quietly watched them walk away, a grin lingering on your lips until they were gone.

You let out a heavily sigh and leaned your head back, puffing out your cheeks. Sam stood up from his own chair and headed over to you, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. You jumped at the sudden touch, looking at him with wide eyes. “Fuck,” you whispered, letting out a breath of relief as you realized it was only Sam, “You almost sent me into cardiac arrest.”

Sam softly laughed, innocently raising his hands as he sat on the table, peering down at you. You shook her head as you stood up, adjusting Sam’s flannel that you wore over a pair of leggings, pushing the sleeves up to your elbows. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, babe?” he asked, genuine concern etched on his features as you stood in front of him. “You’re pretty warm.”

You let out a sigh, glancing around to make sure Dean nor Castiel were around at the moment. “I-I’m not sick, I promise,” you said, looking at your husband. “I’m just. . .”

Sam softly gazed at you when she lowered you head, warmly smiling as he lifted his hand to you chin to make you look at him again. “Just what?”

You coyly smiled, a thought suddenly occurring to you. “Let me show you.”

The corners of Sam’s lips tweaked up into a smirk, finally noticing the look that was swirling around in your eyes. ‘I should’ve known,’ he thought to himself, already feeling himself start to grow hot with anticipation. You eagerly took his larger hand in yours, tugging him in the opposite direction of their shared bedroom.

You giddily giggled as you hurried down the narrow halls of the bunker, tugging Sam towards the garage with a devilish smirk appearing on your lips, stealing a glance behind you to make sure that Dean nor Castiel hadn’t left the room for some reason. “You don’t think they have plans to actually go anywhere tonight after their movie, do you?” You asked Sam, carefully walking with your back facing the spacious garage while your intense gaze was pinned to Sam as your warm hand still clutched his in your own.

“God I fuckin’ hope not,” Sam breathlessly replied, eyes lighting up with a rush of excitement as you guided him over to the Impala.

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as the two of you came up to the side of the Impala, standing beside one of the back doors as you fully faced Sam, body even warmer than before.

“Well, even if they do. . .” You softly said, trailing one of your hands up one of Sam’s buff arms, fingertips trailing up until they reached his stubbly jaw. Your eyes flickered to his, seeing his usually bright eyes had darkened a few shades as they took in your features. Your smirk instantly widened, peering up at Sam. “They’ll just have to wait.”

“Is that so?” Sam asked in a low tone, taking a few steps closer so you were pressed up against the Impala, your chests almost pressed together as he stood in front of you with his hands softly caressing your hips. “Well, how much longer are you gonna make me wait?”

“I don’t know yet,” you teased, running a few of your fingers along his bottom lip. “You were teasing me all day pretty much with your soft hair, your kissable lips. . .”

Sam darkly chuckled, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes as your words made his excitement increase. “Then let me make it up to you.”

You leaned forward in response, Sam quickly bending his head down to connect you lips when she moved towards him. One of your hands automatically went to his shaggy hair, gently tugging on it to elicit a low groan from Sam. You smiled with approval, feeling one of his hands go to your lower back and press your body up against his while the other went to the back of your head, fingers combing through your hair. Your soft lips parted as the kiss became more needy, giving Sam access to explore your mouth like his life depended on it.

Sam’s hand moved from your back and to the handle off to the side, quickly finding it and pulling it open with a grunt. “After you,” Sam panted.

You excitedly grinned and crawled into the backseat, seeing Sam steal a glance around the garage to make sure no one was around before climbing inside as well and closing the door behind him. You eagerly leaned forward, connecting your lips once more as your fingers started to undo the buttons of the flannel Sam wore. Sam grinned into the kiss, assisting you with removing the shirt before carelessly tossing it to the side. Then he broke apart from the kiss, discarding the plain gray shirt he’d been wearing underneath as you started to undo the buttons of the flannel you had on.

Sam reconnected your lips just as she finished unbuttoning it. You giggled, going to shrug it off until one of Sam’s hands stopped you. “Seeing you in my clothes drives me absolutely crazy. . .I wanna see you come undone with it on.”

You let out a shaky breath at his words, lowering your hands. You bit her lip and cupped his cheeks in your clammy hands, firmly kissing him. “I love you,” you told him.

Sam grinned, giving you a quick peck in return. “I love you too,” he murmured, one hand trailing down your sides, stopping along the side of your thigh as his other hand guided you to scoot back more and lay against the back of the leather seat. “And, I wanna show you. . .just how. . .much,” he gruffly said, pecking your cheek, nose, and chin as he spoke.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sucked in a deep breath, feeling Sam kiss along your neck. “God. . .” You whispered, involuntarily bucking your hips up as one hand gripped his hair again.

“Someone’s eager,” Sam murmured against your hot skin, his hand still caressing her thigh, setting her entire body on fire even more with just a simple touch.

“Please, Sam,” you whimpered, catching his gaze.

Sam slowly moved down your body, reaching for the hem of your leggings. “Wearing a skirt today woulda made this a lot easier,” he said, causing a laugh to erupt from you as he started to tug down your skin tight leggings. You lifted your hips, helping him to discard both your leggings and panties as quick as possible. “But, they don’t show off your ass as well as these do.”

You bit her lip at his words, your heart starting to beat even faster as Sam settled himself between your legs. The corner of his lips were pulled up into a smirk, easing your legs apart with one leg settling over his shoulder and the other over the seat with your foot planted on the ground. Sam’s gaze remained locked on yours as he scooted closer, blowing on you gently. Your head instantly fell back, a gasp escaping your lips.

“I really was turnin’ you on without even touching you, huh,” Sam said, one hand caressing your inner thigh. You merely whimpered in response, lifting your head just in time to see him dive in to your center.

A loud moan escaped your lips as he expertly dragged his tongue through her heat, feeling Sam slip one arm under your leg, keeping her close. “Shit, Sam!” You gasped in pure pleasure, lips parted and brows furrowed as you sat up on her elbows, breathlessly watching him move against you core; he knew just what to do to get you even more turned on and screaming his name. He looked up at you, groaning against you when you bit her lip and leaned your head back again. “Oh, fuck!”

He swirled his tongue through your center, circling around your clit as he fastened his pace. “You’re being more quiet than usual,” Sam said in between licks, causing you to groan at the uneven pace. “Don’t want Dean or Cas to hear how gorgeous you sound?”

“I—please, Sam,” you gasped.

“What was that?” Sam asked, lightly licking at you heat.

You panted, looking at him with desperation. “Please, Sam! Fuck!”

Sam flattened his tongue against your center to give you exactly what you wanted, seeing you close your eyes in pleasure. He got a steady movement, going faster when you started to moan louder. One of your hands reached down, tightly gripping his hair as you moved against his mouth. Sam moaned against you, nearly getting off just by watching you fall apart with only the use of his skillful tongue.

“Holy fuck,” you moaned, eyes screwed shut as you felt herself getting closer and closer. Sam could tell too, fastening his pace as you tightened your grip on his hair, a loud moan erupting from your parted lips as you arched your back. “Sam! Shit, I-I—”

“I got you, baby,” Sam said, knowing you were incredibly close. “I got you.”

With those words, you came against his mouth, your loud moans filling the Impala as Sam continued to suck and lick you through your orgasm. Your grip on his hair loosened while your hips stilled against his mouth, chest rising and falling quickly as your eyes remained closed with complete bliss.

“Holy fuck,” you said after a few moments, opening your eyes when you felt Sam crawl on top of you. You wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing him in for a sloppy kiss without a second thought. He eagerly kissed you back, lowering his body so you were closer together while one of his hands traveled down between your legs.

You gasped against his mouth when his fingers slipped through you, opening your eyes to look at him. “I think it’s your turn now,” you told him, going to reach down to his pants until he shifted to sit up.

“Later,” he breathed out, starting to undo the buttons of his pants. “I just need you.”

You sat up as well, Sam’s flannel sticking to her skin even more than before, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. Your hands quickly moved to help Sam, giggling with joy as he removed his pants and boxers, kicking them off into the floor. Your eyes flickered up to his again, biting your lip. “Can I be on top?”

“Fuck yes,” Sam eagerly said, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to his lap without a moment to waist.

You giggled again, looking down at his hard member as you straddled his waist. “Someone sure is excited.”

“Hard not to be when I just watched you get off on my tongue,” Sam replied in a gruff voice, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you, not just with lust, but also pure love.

You whimpered at that, reaching down and giving him a few strokes. You watched Sam’s eyes flutter close at your gentle touch, lips parting with a breathy moan; you got turned on by his reactions just as much as Sam did with you. You shifted slightly, lining yourself up with him before slowly sinking down.

Your and Sam’s moans filled the Impala at the feeling, Sam’s hands automatically going to grip your waist as he filled you up. Sam bit his lip with anticipation, waiting for you to make sure it was okay to move before he did anything. You leaned forward slightly, planting your hands on Sam’s chiseled chest, starting to move against him as you locked eyes with him.

“Fuuuuck,” Sam groaned, his nails digging into your hips as you slid up and down. “Just like that, baby.”

“I’ve wanted to do this since this morning,” you breathlessly admitted, fastening your pace. You and Sam moaned again, your nails scratching at his chest as you moved your hands up and down his body. Sam loudly groaned at the sensation, thrusting up to meet your movements, making you cry out with pleasure.

“God, I love you so fucking much,” Sam panted, his eyes rolling back as you leaned down and gave attention to his neck. “So fucking perfect.”

You moaned as well, connecting your lips in a messy kiss while Sam’s thrusts got faster. “Fuck. . .” You whispered, “I love you too. . .so so fucking much.”

“Shit, Y/N,” Sam moaned as you nipped at his dampened neck, hands running up and down his abs.

“Faster, baby,” you whispered into his ear, heart beating faster as you and Sam got closer.

Sam grunted, tightening his grip on you as he picked up the pace. You started to lose her own rhythm, your hips shaking as you rode him, your orgasm growing closer and closer. “Sam, I’m. . .”

Sam lurched forward, pulling you further into his lap with your bare chest pressed against his own, the flannel pushed back and exposing your entire chest to him. His hips moved up into you as he hungrily kissed you again, his tongue dominating yours while his hands moved to cradle the back of your head.

Sam grunted, his forehead resting against yours as the Impala rocked back and forth, no doubt making it obvious what was going on inside if anyone were to enter the garage.

You meekly whimpered, feeling the knot in your stomach getting closer to finally snapping. “Sam!” You loudly moaned, many swear words and the repeat of his name getting drowned out as Sam pressed his mouth to yours again. Your hands went to his cheeks, holding him closer while Sam’s orgasm got closer and his fingers gently tugged on your hair. His hips smacked against yours faster, the sound filling the steamy Impala alongside your loud moans. You clenched around him as you came, making Sam groan into your mouth as he came seconds after you.

You pulled apart after a few moments, resting your clammy foreheads together as you finally started to catch your breaths, you still sat in Sam’s lap and his hands in your hair.

You warmly smiled as you locked eyes with Sam, his lips curling into a grin as his dimples poked out as well. “Maybe I should tease you more often, huh?” Sam asked.

You softly laughed, playfully rolling your eyes as you moved your hands to rest them on his damp shoulders. “You could, but two can play at that game, babe.”

“Is that a challenge?” Sam taunted.

You playfully narrowed your eyes, running a hand up and down one of his arms like you were in deep thought. “No, because you and I both know you would lose the first day.”

Sam breathed out a laugh, tilting his head. “Says the one who almost couldn’t wait till we were alone.”

You simply shrugged, a small smirk starting to appear on your lips. “Today I couldn’t,” you said, gently pushing him back down on the seat. Sam’s eyes slightly widened, brows raising. “But you just looked extra sexy and handsome today. You, on the other hand, can hardly keep your hands to yourself when you’re horny.”

“That’s not true,” Sam protested, going to speak again until you moved your hips, causing his head to fall back with pleasure.

You proudly smirked at his reaction, peering down at him. “Tell you what—let’s go again, and if you manage not to touch me, we can do that challenge.”

Sam breathed out a faint laugh, smirking back at you. “As long as you’re okay with not touching me. But, you and I both know that’ll be even harder for you than me.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said, moving your hips again.

Sam let out a shaky breath, gazing up at you as his hands returned to your hips. “Yeah, we will.”

———

A/N: Feel free to leave some feedback or send me some requests!

#supernatural #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural smut #spn #spn smut #spn imagine

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 8)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut... a minor injury... a motorcycle... a teeny tiny bit of angst?? honestly it's just pretty normal aside from the smut

You actually fell asleep without anything too untoward happening, just kissing and cuddling and whispers that didn't make much sense to each other but still made your heart flutter each time.

Waking up, though, was another story entirely.

"Arăți frumos în timp ce dormi," he mumbled into the crook of your neck, pulling your hips back so you could feel his hard cock against your ass. You hummed and snuggled up closer to him, bathing in his warmth as much as possible.

“I swear I’ve never slept so well in my life,” you mumbled as you reached back to run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you in my bed all the time so I can finally get some rest.”

He smiled against your skin, sucking on that spot just behind your ear that made your eyes roll back in your head. “Il vrei?” he asked huskily, and you didn’t even care what he was asking; when he said it like that, the answer was always ‘yes.’ You nodded happily, biting your lip, as he started to push your panties down and helped you arch your back so he could guide his cock to your entrance.

You still gasped and clutched at the sheets beneath you, you couldn’t help it even if it wasn’t your first time discovering how thick he was. It was just barely painful for one fleeting moment before it faded into that delightful fullness, his strokes long and slow as he sighed against your ear. “Seba,” you whimpered under your breath.

“Sunt mai bun decât el, nu-i așa? Nu te-a futut niciodată atât de bine,” he growled a little, holding you tighter. “Sper că știe. Sper că știe că am făcut dragoste cu tine și că sunt îndrăgostit de tine.”

You couldn’t be sure if it was his words in your ear or his arms so tight around your chest that made it a little hard to breathe, but something was so different about the way he was speaking now than you’d ever heard him before. It was difficult to describe— not quite angry, but so passionate it could almost seem that way. You could feel it in the way he moved inside you, too; he was clearly holding back, like there was a storm beneath his calm surface.

You wanted all of it. Turning back, you kissed him and pulled his hair a little, hoping it would get the point across. It seemed to, considering how he gasped and sped up, fucking you harder and deeper as you moaned a little louder than you meant to.

“Când a fost aici, am vrut să te sărut,” he continued in a low voice, speaking right against your parted lips. “Am vrut ca soțul tău să vadă. Am vrut să te arunc în patul ăsta și să te fac să țipi, pentru ca toată lumea să te audă. Am vrut să știe că sunt eu.”

“Yours,” you said before you could stop yourself, and thankfully you didn’t have to worry too much about the implications of it because he couldn’t understand what you meant. He grabbed your face anyways, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he stared into your eyes.

“A mea,” he purred, fucking you faster until you started to whine and arch your back harder.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered, but he nodded before you could finish, encouraging you with whispered words and a hand slipping down between your legs to rub your swollen clit. You cried out, instinctively reaching out to grab his arm, but he held fast and kept up the pace, sending you tumbling over the edge before you had really prepared yourself for it. Unintentionally, you held your breath for a few moments as it washed over you, the tension releasing finally with a long sigh.

The very moment you began the denouement from your peak, he pulled out and rolled you onto your back, slipping right back in as he slotted his body between your legs. You whimpered and gripped his shoulders, and he got right back to his pace— but this time your body couldn’t take as much of the force and so it began to rock the bed, his headboard slamming into the wall. At first neither of you cared until he glanced up and hissed, “rahat.”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and craning your head around to see he’d clearly damaged the wallpaper there. “Oops,” you giggled, “guess we should take a break and fix that—”

He pushed you back down onto the bed as you yelped, capturing you in a hungry kiss; one arm slipped under your shoulders, holding you tight, while the other reached up so his hand could grip the headboard and hold it still as he started to pound into you again. You moaned weakly and relaxed in his embrace, feeling the bed still rock slightly under you but much more interested in the feeling of his cock slamming right into the most sensitive and overstimulated spots inside your channel.

“Oh god,” you sighed as you couldn’t stop your head from falling back into the pillow, closing your eyes to dodge the way he stared down at you with an intensity that bordered on fury. He moved in to bite at your neck instead, and if you were any more in touch with reality you would’ve complained that you didn’t bring many clothes that would cover his bite marks, but you were much too lost in the sensation he was bringing you for that.

“Atât de bine, atât de bine,” he chanted with a growl, “voi veni… atât de aproape…”

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please, Seba— yes, right there, oh fuck!”

You came again, technically, but it was nothing like the first time— more shallow but less brief, like the pleasure was spread thinner and wider, until you worried your vision would go completely black. He grunted loudly as he filled you, still thrusting roughly with each pump of his release into you, but finally he slowed and sighed, his breaths coming hard and fast as he let go of the headboard and held you tightly.

He seemed exhausted, honestly, and you laughed breathlessly as he collapsed on top of you. “You can’t be so worn out this early in the morning,” you scolded as you kissed his shoulder.

“Nu voi mai părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he groaned.

“At least let me up so I can shower!” you protested, trying to push his limp weight off of you and failing pitifully as you laughed.

“Nu, nici tu nu vei părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he cooed, covering your face in kisses as you laughed harder. Only when you defensively pinched his arm did he pull back and pull out, letting you slip out from under him.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised as kissed him on the cheek, dashing to the bathroom and getting one last glance at him shaking out his sore hand before you shut the door.

Chapter 38 done… only five more to go, if your outline was to be trusted (which it most certainly should not). Still, you were finally reaching the real height of the tension, the climax of the story likely to hit as soon as the next chapter.

But it wasn’t what you were expecting. It wasn’t what you thought you would write when you sat down here months ago and began with page 1. In fact, it was better.

You sighed a little, looking away from the typewriter for the first time in maybe an hour or more, glancing out the window where the sun was starting to set and painting the whole countryside in an orange glow; but it wasn’t the only thing making the leaves change colors— fall was undeniably on the way, enough so that poor Sebastian was raking leaves already. And, because evil is a real and powerful force in this world, he had started wearing a shirt while working outside.

Not that it wasn’t still buckets of fun to watch him go: you found yourself leaning against the window frame to drink in the sight of him, smiling widely to yourself as he sighed and wiped his brow.

All of a sudden, he turned and caught you ogling, making him grin and you laugh with embarrassment. He waved at you, and you waved back, resigning to getting back to work for just a few more pages…

The creaking of the stairs made you realize someone was coming, but with Sebastian just outside it could only be Mrs. Alberti. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you ran to the closet to rifle through your sweaters, hoping to find something with a high neck. Nothing looked long enough, making you groan in frustration.

She knocked on the door and you jumped slightly. “One moment!” you called out to her, digging up a random scarf and throwing it around your neck to hastily cover the bruises Sebastian had left on you. “Yes, come in,” you finally sighed with relief as you threw yourself back into the chair.

“Good evening,” Mrs. Alberti smiled sweetly as she peeked through the crack in the door, “I just wanted to offer to cook dinner here tonight. I’m making a big recipe so I figured I might as well, unless you had your own plans.”

“No, that would be lovely,” you nodded, “thank you.”

“Just come downstairs in about, oh, fifteen minutes and it’ll be ready,” she explained.

“You don’t want any help in the kitchen?”

She scoffed a little. “From you?”

You chuckled at her brutal honesty. “Okay, point taken.”

“Sorry, dear, it’s just that I wouldn’t want your… Western sensibilities to muck up the recipe,” she defended.

“I can’t blame you,” you smirked. “I’ll be down in a quarter hour.”

She nodded and shut the door again, leaving you to unwrap the itchy scarf from your neck and let out a slow breath.

Of course, with an imminent deadline you couldn’t actually get any good work done, so you just read back over some older chapters and made a couple simple edits. All too soon, you checked the clock and realized you should go ahead and make your way to the kitchen.

You took a deep breath as you stepped into the entryway where the smell of Mrs. Alberti’s cooking emanated through the rest of the house. It brought back memories of when you were here with Michael and she cooked for the both of you. Those memories were wonderful once, then soured, but now you were coming to appreciate them again. Although, it was easier to enjoy them when you imagined the black eye your soon-to-be-ex was likely sporting now.

You took a seat at the table and let her serve you, even though it made you feel a little guilty; you knew she would never let you serve yourself when she was cooking.

“How’s your novel coming along, dear?” she asked as she took her own seat and you began eating.

“Well,” you began with a little sigh, “stories have a mind of their own, Mrs. Alberti. All this time I thought I was writing a thriller— something scary, gritty, maybe even tragic. But I’m coming up on the end of it and I’m realizing that all this time, I’ve been writing a romance.”

She smiled, glancing behind you to the doorway. “Yes, things have a funny way of turning out differently than we expect.”

Wondering what she was looking at, you turned to find Sebastian leaning against the wood frame, wiping his hands on a towel. “Bună seara,” he greeted.

“Sit down, Sebastian, have some dinner,” she offered to him as she stood up to pour him a new portion of soup.

He nodded and sat at the table, “multumesc,” he mumbled when she put a bowl in front of him.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, everyone eating their meals quietly. It was nice to have a moment of normalcy— your new normal— after such an eventful day previous.

“So,” Mrs. Alberti broke the silence unexpectedly, “you two had sex?”

You instantly spat out your sip of soup, making Sebastian give you a concerned look; you waved dismissively as if to say you were fine, though you coughed a couple times. “I… uhm— how did you—?”

“He was whistling while he gardened today,” she explained, “and you look the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“To be fair, I think the first thing is because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you added with a little laugh.

“And the second thing?”

“...at least partially because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you admitted.

“Fair enough,” she chuckled, “but don’t think I don’t see the way your shoulders aren’t so tense and you’re smiling all the time. I know a woman in love when I see one.”

“L-love?” you questioned instantly, choking on the word.

“Oh, honey,” she sighed, almost a look of pity on her face, “did you not know? It’s all over your face.”

You took a slow breath and pondered your meal before taking another bite. “No… I knew,” you admitted, “I guess you just put it really bluntly.”

She smiled. “It’s how we do things in Hungary. You should be honest with him.”

“With what words?”

“Sounds like you don’t need them,” she smirked. “I’ll leave you two be, then. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

She bid Sebastian goodnight with a little wave, and he nodded back happily; with the back door shut as she headed to her own house, you two were alone again. He took a sip of his soup and you finally noticed the marks on his spoon-holding hand.

“Your hand…” you realized, pointing to it, remembering with burning cheeks how he got that injury.

“Ah,” he smiled, looking down at the purple knuckles and smiling as he rubbed them gently. “Un sacrificiu demn.”

After dinner, you picked up with some reading (so much more relaxing than writing, believe it or not) and Sebastian joined you for the same on the couch.

Just laying together like this— quiet, relaxed, and totally at peace— was igniting feelings inside you that you had gone without for so long that you’d forgotten they existed completely. Resting your head on his chest, between the unbuttoned halves of his shirt, you could hear his heartbeat and it was soothing yet invigorating somehow.

He held his book up over your head while you used one hand to hold yours open and read through the space between his chest and his arm. It wasn’t the most ergonomic position necessarily, and your arm was definitely getting tired, but it was worth it to be close to him in these little ways.

"Book?" he asked innocently after a long stint of silent reading, setting his own aside to look down at you.

You closed your book and looked back up at him, resting your chin on his chest. "The book I'm reading? It's good," you nodded (as much as you could without stabbing him in the sternum with your chin, that is).

"Nu, book ta," he clarified, poking your forehead, before making a motion like he was typing.

"My book!" you realized. "Yes, the book I'm writing, it's nearly done…"

Your heart started to sink inside your chest.

"And when it's done, I'll go back to London. Like I planned from the beginning. And it'll be published and I'll start from scratch at a new life… alone.”

You cleared your throat and looked away. “Ești în regulă?” he asked quietly, sounding concerned.

You shook yourself out of it, smiling back up at him. “Let’s go into the city tomorrow,” you decided. “I need some things, if I’m going to be staying longer…”

He seemed to appreciate that you were telling him something, but couldn’t determine what. “Nyíregyháza,” you explained, “let’s drive into the city.” You pantomimed a steering wheel to explain yourself better.

“Ah,” he nodded, “nu într-o mașină. Îmi luăm bicicleta.” He returned with the motion of steering a bike— and when he curled his fingers to rev the proverbial engine, you realized he meant a motorbike. “Motocicletă,” he smiled.

“You drive a motorcycle?” you realized with a little gasp.

“Da,” he grinned, a little more mischievous than before.

“Oh, you really are gonna be the death of me,” you laughed. “Let’s go see this bike of yours.”

He helped you up off the couch and escorted you to the shed across from the house, the last light of sunset just barely enough to illuminate the way. You knew he worked in here sometimes, but you never realized he was doing mechanic work— indeed there it was: a motorcycle, right by Mrs. Alberti’s car, clearly quite old but restored to decent condition. “Iată-o, fetița mea,” he announced as he raised his arms to present it to you.

“Wow, you’ve been working hard,” you realized as you looked around at all the parts and tools strewn about.

“Avea nevoie de un alternator nou și ceva de lucru în interiorul motorului, dar acum funcționează la fel de bine ca nou... dacă nu chiar mai bine,” he enumerated as he knelt down in front of it, grabbing a towel to rub a spot of dirt from the headlight. “Vrei să conduci acum?”

You tilted your head.

“Acum,” he repeated, standing up and pulling you closer, tilting his head back toward the bike. “Sa mergem acum.”

“You want to go for a drive now? It’s pretty late, I was about to go to bed,” you protested meekly.

“Haide,” he smiled, stepping back and pulling you with him. “Plimbare pe spate.”

He handed you a helmet that had been resting on one of the handlebars, and you dutifully put it on as he got on the bike and fiddled around with it for a moment, kicking out the kickstand and finding his balance before getting it to start with a roar that echoed around the shed. He beamed proudly, looking up at you. “Eh?” he prompted with a nod.

“Yeah, it sounds great,” you encouraged with a thumbs up.

“Ce mai face casca?” he asked, leaning forward to knock his fist on your helmet lightly, making you laugh.

“Yeah, it’s good,” you nodded.

“Atunci alătură-te mie,” he instructed as he patted the seat behind him. You took a quick breath and got on, wrapping your arms around him. “Mai strâns,” he mumbled, pulling your arms in to hold him tighter. You smiled and rested your head on his back, yelping slightly when the bike lurched forward and he steered you out of the shed and into the grass outside. He was very slow at first until he steered to the gravel road, at which point he instantly picked up speed until the wind whipped at your face. His unbuttoned shirt was flying in every direction, leaving him totally unprotected from the night air, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding fast as he took you down the road, hugging the turns letting the headlight illuminate only as much as he needed to see.

When you looked up, you could see the stars more clearly than ever. You sighed and hugged him tighter, amazed at how they didn’t move at all while the world on the ground flew by. It made sense, obviously, with them being millions of miles away, but it was jarring how different the speed of the world could look from different perspectives. And as exhilarating as it was to see the countryside roll by in a blur, you preferred the steady night sky; you didn’t want to think about this moment flying by, about the fleeting nature of all of this. You wanted to believe this would always be here, just like the stars. You wanted to focus on the things that would never leave you, the moments that would become lifelong memories, and not on the reality of how beautiful things are not usually permanent things.

“I love you,” you whispered against his ear, quiet enough for your words to be blown away into the night. A small tear left a hot trail on your chilled skin, blown back over your temple instantly by Sebastian’s acceleration.

In silence, you drove into the unknown with him, letting yourself forget about the rest of the world for just a little while longer. You deserved that.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au

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starlightinhumanform · 3 years ago

Text

Nothing Sweeter

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Moxiety, Platonic Analoceit (only mentioned)

Summary: When Virgil agreed to work a cashier shift at the bakery, Logan had assured him that they never get customers that late. Instead, Virgil comes face to face with the cutest customer he’s ever seen.

Warnings: None! (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Bakery AU, Tooth-rotting Fluff

A/N: This was written for a request for @catemons-blog ! I haven’t written these babies in such a long time and to was so nice to write them again!! All reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated <3 Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Virgil could feel flour beneath his nails, the warm dough under his hands, his arms moving automatically in the comforting, repetitive shifts of kneading bread. The bakery was like a second home to him but, more specifically, he loved the kitchen. He loved the whole cafe but the front wasn’t where he belonged— Logan and Janus took care of that— but this world of warmth and sweetness and soft scents, that was his.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, they just didn’t seem to click. It seemed like he was always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time or missing some social cue that was apparently obvious to everyone else but invisible to him. No, Virgil loved people and he loved to share what he made with them; it was just a lot lower stress to work behind the scenes.

So he surprised even himself when he agreed to run both the front and the back of the cafe for the night. Maybe it was Logan’s promise that nobody came in on a weekday in the late evening. Maybe it was Janus’ bribe that he would make Virgil an extra special mocha coffee tomorrow. Maybe it was the combined power of their pleading eyes. Whatever the case, Virgil found himself alone in the cafe on a late Wednesday evening, with nothing but his hands and his work for company.

Logan had been right— Virgil hadn’t seen a customer since his shift started at 7:00 and as the time stretched forward, it began to seem less and less likely that some would order a coffee this late at night.

When the door chime ran at 10 pm, Virgil was half-expecting it to be Logan or Janus stopping by to see how he was doing (and probably to steal a jam-filled cookie or two).

Virgil walked into the front of the store to say hello but was instead faced by a stranger. They had a round face with large blue eyes and a mop of curly blond hair sweeping down their forehead— their face wasn’t ringing any bells. But Virgil didn’t really know the customer’s; he knew their orders .

He quirked an eyebrow as went down the list of regular customers this stranger could be and began taking guesses, “A dozen maple doughnut bars?”

“Um, no actually I want—” Their voice was soft but had a gravely quality that bite at the ends of their words. The voice was unfamiliar to Virgil but for some reason, he wanted to hear it more.

“Hmm, a ciabatta loaf and three everything bagels?”

“No… I was hoping you had—”

“Oh, I know! A loaf of rye, a loaf of pumpernickel, and a loaf of sourdough?”

The stranger began laughing. It was a nice laugh, Virgil guessed, but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny. He could feel his cheeks beginning to turn red; he had said something wrong again, hadn’t he?

They stopped laughing long enough to flash Virgil a bright, amused smile, “Are you going to keep guessing the entire night until you get my order right?”

The customer didn’t seem mad, he wasn’t even laughing at Virgil; he was laughing… because of Virgil? Virgil had made them laugh and that felt very very different than being laughed at. Their laughs ran through the empty little dining area and bounced off the display case, almost entirely empty by this time of day. Their laughs made Virgil feel good, even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

Virgil let himself take another look at the person in front of him. There was a warm, sweet sensation beginning to flutter in his stomach and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The customer was cute, no doubt about it. They were wearing large, round-framed glasses, nearly as gold as their hair. Behind the glasses, their eyes were one of the bluest blue Virgil had ever seen— like water drawn in a saturated kid’s cartoon. They were wearing a blue top tucked into a white pleated skirt and white mary-jane shoes. The skirt had attached suspender straps, one of which had a small pin on it. Looking closer, Virgil realized the pin was a small transgender pride flag with the pronouns “he/him” stamped over it. Ok, so the customer was a he ; and he was really, really cute.

Virgil tried to snap his mind back on focus. The man in front of him had stopped laughing but was still looking at him with a soft, somewhat lopsided smile.

Virgil looked down at his hands, feeling like making eye contact with this person was just a little too much right now. He cleared his throat, “So, uh, do you want to order something?”

“No, I actually was just planning on standing here for the rest of the night.”

“Really?” Virgil could feel his eyebrows furrowing together.

“No, no,” He stepped closer to the counter Virgil was behind, “I was just joking, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Virgil had a hard time catching social cues but the way he said “sweetheart” held too much kindness and sincerity for Virgil to miss its meaning. Virgil’s blush grew to a deep crimson.

He walked all the way to the counter so he and Virgil were only a foot apart. Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to flirt with him or run away to the kitchen. Somehow, putting a stove fire out seemed easier than talking to this customer.

Virgil shook his hands below the counter, hoping stimming would help release all of the energy and feelings bouncing around in his body. He tried to remember what Logan had told him in case customers did come in; there were specifically steps Logan was very particular about, “Could I get a name for your order?”

“Of course! My name’s Patton!”

God, even his name is cute.

“Your name’s Virgil?”

Virgil glanced down at his name tag as if he needed reminding of what it said. He nodded in confirmation of Patton’s question.

“That’s such a pretty name,” Patton’s smile reminded him of opening an oven door on a cold day, the warmth and sweetness rolling over him in waves. He felt like he was melting.

Patton’s eyes wandered over the menu board, licking his lips absentmindedly as he tried to make a decision. Virgil wished he could stop looking at his lips.

Finally he looked back over at Virgil, “Could I get three muffins—”

“Uh huh,” Virgil nodded as he jotted the words down on the receipt the way Logan had asked him to.

“—and, uh,” Patton leaned forward even a little closer, “Could I get your number?”

Virgil forgot how to talk in that moment, feelings of happiness practically vibrating through him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he just exploded, just nodding his head to answer Patton like his life depended on it.

Virgil moved as if he were in a dream, packaging the muffins as Patton paid. He felt like the planet’s gravity had suddenly been turned down and he was floating a few inches off the ground. He quickly scribbled his phone number on the bag before handing it to Patton.

“Oh! I almost forgot something!”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow at Patton’s exclamation, “You did?”

“Yeah! Your tip for such great service.”

“No, no you already gave a tip. See, it’s on your receipt beneath—”

Virgil froze as Patton leaned forward and planted a kiss on Virgil’s cheek.

“There! Extra tip for being so cute,” Patton gave him that lovely, warm smile before turning with a wave and walking out of the bakery.

Virgil sank to the floor, disregarding whether or not that was a health code violation. He didn’t care about that right now. His face was tingling and his heart was racing and he felt out of breath. He clapped his hands together, happy stims taking over for a moment as he processed the interaction he had just had with the cutest boy he had ever seen. Maybe working in the front of the bakery had its own benefits…

Virgil couldn’t stop smiling.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist just send me an ask or reply to this post :)

General Sanders Sides Taglist: ~ @centimeter-tries-to-communicate @bee-syndrome @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @mossdeemo @im-actually-ok@softnic @catolicabuena @queer-disaster106 @lunawolf89 ~

#moxiety #romantic moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #virgil x patton #moxiety fluff #moxiety bakery au #moxiety fanfic #sanders sides #sanders sides fluff #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides bakery au #tooth rotting fluff #moxiety meet cute #platonic analoceit #autistic!virgil #trans!patton #my fics #starlight writes

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gracie-rosee · 4 years ago

Text

Nessian + Nyx

Just some Nessian fluff for you <3

Summary: Cassian and Nesta take care of baby Nyx while Feyre and Rhys sleep.

Word count: 1,166

"What the hell are you doing to that poor child, Cassian?" Nesta said as she walked through the door of their room at Feyre and Rhys' estate. Her mate was sitting on their bed, Nyx laying on his lap looking like he was about to throw up on him.

Feyre and Rhys were currently upstairs sleeping. They haven't been able to rest much since Nyx's birth and neither parent had wanted their child out of their arms for more than a minute. Their exhaustion took hold of them however, and left babysitting duty to the newly mated couple.

Cassian was ecstatic, making silly faces and tickling little Nyx until his shrill laughter filled the room. Though he would never admit it, Nesta could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes at one point or another.

"He doesn't seem to want to go to sleep, apparently." Cassian's eyes were fixed on the baby Illyrian in his lap. "You just love giving your uncle a hard time, don't you?" he added quieter, softly tickling Nyx's little feet, making his tiny face widen in a toothless smile.

Nesta stood in the doorway, watching her mate and nephew together. Her mate.

The term was still so new to her. She still couldn't believe that this male could possibly love her. She doesn't know what she did to deserve him, but she thanks the mother every single day for being blessed to have him.

Leaning against the doorway, she gazed at the pair on the bed. The look of pure love in Cassian's eyes nearly stole the breath right from her lungs. A look that was directed at her too many times to count. Seeing Cassian with Nyx made her heart do somersaults in her chest. She knew, without a doubt that he would be an incredible father one day.

Yes, she thinks with a smile on her face. One day.

A soft gasp pulled her from her thoughts. Looking back at the two, she saw that Nyx had indeed thrown up all over Cassian's shirt. Nyx was being held an arms length away, a devilish smile on his face. The child was only a few weeks old and he's already perfected his father's stupid smirk. This child will certainly be a handful, but Nesta knew without a doubt that there isn't a single thing his parents wouldn't do for him.

Cassian sighed and pivoted towards the doorway where Nesta still stood. He sent her a glare as she bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

She crossed the room, taking a seat on the plush mattress next to him. "You probably deserved that," she chuckled, an unrestrained smile spread across her face. Cassian, however, didn't laugh. She looked over at him to find his gaze locked on her, that adoring look in his eyes once more as he stared at her in awe.

"What?" she whispers, suddenly feeling as if she were out of place.

The corner of Cassian's lips curved upward as he brushed a finger along her jaw. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back to rest his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered, so softly she barely even heard it. Even Nyx was silent as he watched his aunt and uncle with wide eyes.

Nesta felt tears starting to form in her eyes at the sincerity of his words. He had yet to actually say the words out loud to her, but she knew it wasn't the first time he said them. He may not have uttered the words out loud, but she knew he didn't need words to tell her. He says I love you in the way he kisses her. The way he holds her. The way he looks at her.

Blinking back tears, she lays her hand softly against his cheek. His hand comes up to cover hers as he turns his head and places a kiss to the palm of her hand.

Nesta smiles, and looks down at Cassian's ruined shirt. "I love you too, but you really smell," she says, unable to stop her laugh this time.

Cassian looked down, as if just realizing there was vomit on his shirt. Nyx, the little devil, laughed happily, as if he too just saw what he did to his uncle's clothing.

Cassian sighed and shifted to place Nyx in Nesta's arms. She stiffens slightly as her mate carefully hands her the baby wrapped in the midnight blue blanket Elain had made. With his entire family fawning over him, Nesta hasn't yet gotten the chance to hold him.

Nyx babbles happily as he's placed in his aunt's arms, his small fingers playing with the end of her braided hair. His little wings are tucked behind him, and it takes her breath away at how delicate he looks. His wings are so tiny, so fragile that she's afraid to even move lest she accidentally hurt him.

She's still getting used to it – the emptiness. The lack of that dark power. The power that was pure death. It feels as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders once it was gone. Yet holding this child didn't frighten her as much as she expected it to. The reassuring presence of her mate next to her helped ground her. She knew he would always be there for her, reaching out his hand. Knew that every time she was plagued by nightmares in the dead of night, he would be there to wake her, to hold her as he does every night.

Nyx continues to smile and giggle in Nesta's arms as Cassian gets up to change his shirt. She scoots up the large bed and situates them both comfortably amongst the pillows.

Cassian reappears in the room momentarily and plops down on the bed beside his mate and his nephew. He doesn't even try to hide his smile as he wraps an arm around Nesta and places his free hand on hers where it rests on top of Nyx's blanket.

Nyx's chubby fingers wrap around Nesta's and he immediately tries to shove them in his gummy mouth. A laugh bubbles out of her at his attempts and she looks up to find Cassian gazing at them, a look of pure love in his eyes.

Looking back at him, she found that the future, for once, didn't scare her. That she was happy- no, excited to live her life. With her mate, her family and friends.

She leaned her head over to rest on Cassian's shoulder. Though she couldn't see his face, she could feel his smile, his happiness. She felt it down their bond. She felt it in her soul. And as she gazed down at the now sleeping infant in their arms, Cassian's arms wrapped around her, she found that she too was happy. Happier than she had ever been before. And she didn't plan on ever letting this feeling go.

Tags:

@perseusannabeth @laraexia @sleeping-and-books @mu-si-ca-l @superspiritfestival @althelkingshorses @danibutterr @morganofthewildfire @booksofthemoon @tswaney17

#my writing #Nessian #nessian oneshot #nessian fluff #nesta archeron #Cassian #Rhysand #Feyre archeron #Acosf #acosf spoilers #Acotar #Feysand #nyx archeron

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scones-and-texting-and-murder · 3 years ago

Text

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.

#deancas #destiel #my writing #growing old together #this came well before the finale #but it feels like a fix it fic nonetheless

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perlukafarinn · 4 years ago

Text

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again.

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less.

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago.

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to.

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas.

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it.

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married.

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place.

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly.

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account).

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone.

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips.

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely.

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up.

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters.

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

#deancas #destiel #spn fanfic #perlukafarinn writes #fluff #domestic #post-canon #established relationship #thank u to miriam who read through most of this #and assured me that it's plenty gay!

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littlegnoblin · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Valentine’s Day to my best friend and other half @donestiel

read on ao3

Dean comes home from work to find Cas and Jack sitting at the table, red heart-shaped lollipops strewn in front of them.

He gives Cas a quick kiss. “You trying to give the kid a sugar rush or what?”

“Daddy! It’s for Valemtime’s Day!” Jack yells excitedly, hopping off his chair to hug Dean’s legs.

“It’s pronounced valentine, Jack.”

“I don’t know, valemtime kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean says. Jack beams up at him and he can’t help but ruffle his hair.

“Yes, well, the holiday has become so bastardized that I suppose renaming it wouldn’t hurt.” Cas squints at the box the candy came in. “Does no one find it odd that their children are passing around cards demanding others belong to them?”

Dean sits down and pulls Jack into his lap, flipping through the little pink cards. “I don’t know that you’re supposed to think about it that hard, dude.” He comes across a card that reads ‘kiss me’ and holds it up. “This, on the other hand-- they’re five, what the hell do they need to be kissin’ for?”

“I want kisses!” Jack protests.

“You’re a little kiss monster.” Cas leans in and presses a big, exaggerated smooch to Jack’s cheek. “How was that? Did it satisfy the beast?”

Jack giggles and nods enthusiastically.

“Hey, I’m gonna need to sample one of those kisses myself. Make sure they’re regulation-- standard procedure.”

“Is that right?”

“‘Fraid so,” Dean says with a shit eating grin.

He’s expecting a goofy kiss like the one he gave Jack but Cas uses his thumb to tilt Dean’s chin just so and kisses him deeply.

They break apart when two tiny hands push at their faces and Jack tells them to knock it off.

“This is what Valentine’s Day is all about, champ. Besides, I thought you liked kisses.”

“You guys do it gross.”

Dean smiles and bounces his eyebrows at Cas, who rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small curl of his mouth.

“Perhaps your father will help you write your classmates’ names on the cards while I get dinner ready.”

“I can cook,” Dean says quickly. The thought of Cas’ last attempt at cooking has his stomach churning and he’s pretty sure feeding that toxic waste to Jack would be considered child abuse.

Cas holds up a cardboard box. “It’s frozen pizza.”

“Alright, I’ll do babysitting duty. Just make sure you take the plastic off this time.”

“It’s not babysitting when it’s your own child and that was one time.”

“One time too many,” Dean mutters.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, dear.”

Cas glares at him. “I expect you to eat a healthy portion of salad along with your pizza tonight.”

“You making it yourself or is it bagged?”

The glare intensifies.

Jack tugs on his sleeve. “Daddy, did you like doing valentine’s stuff in school?”

“Nah, it, uh-- it wasn’t really a thing when I was your age.”

That’s a blatant lie but Dean’s not going to tell him the truth and bum him out. What five year old wants to hear that their dad didn’t do Valentine’s Day exchanges because there was barely enough money for food, let alone candy, and he never really stuck around any school long enough to get included in the holiday stuff. Shit’s depressing.

“So you never got no cards or nothin’?”

“Nope.” Dean never got cards but he did get invited under the bleachers a few times in high school to unwrap a different kind of present. He’s not telling him that either, though.

“That sucks. Can I have a lollipop?”

“Nice try, kid.” Dean taps on the card in front of them. “Get to writing.”

He oversees the careful labelling of the cards, reminding Jack to double check the list of names anytime he spells something wrong and corrects a few backwards letters. They debate who gets what card and Jack complains that he has to give one to Tom who keeps cutting him in line.

Cas rejoins them in the middle of Jack’s impassioned rant, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“While I agree that Tom is a-- what was it you called him?”

“A butthead.”

“Yes, right, a butthead. While I agree he is a butthead, unfortunately I think you need to be the bigger person. Maybe this will even convince him to stop cutting in line and you two can be friends.”

“No way. I don’t wanna be friends with Tom.”

“You never know,” Dean says. “I didn’t like your dad when we first met, but I think he’s a pretty okay guy now.”

Jack looks at him wide eyed. “You didn’t like Daddy?”

“No way, he was a butthead.”

“It was more of a misunderstanding,” Cas explains.

“Oh is that what we’re calling it?”

Cas lifts an eyebrow and stares him down. “What would you call it, Dean?”

Shit, that should not be so hot.

“Not the point; the point is that I didn’t think I would ever like your dad and now we’re married. Things change.”

Jack furrows his brows, considering. “I don’t want to marry Tom.”

Dean snorts. “You don’t have to. In fact, please don’t. His mom is a nightmare.” Cas kicks him under the table. “What! She is!”

“You don’t have to marry him and you don’t have to be friends with him,” Cas says, ignoring Dean completely, “but you do have to give him a card and some candy.”

Jack grumbles but does as he’s told. Dean’s legs are starting to fall asleep but he’s become increasingly aware of how fast Jack is growing up and soon-- way too fucking soon, if you ask him-- he won’t be sitting in his lap at all so he silently resigns to not feeling his legs for the next ten minutes.

“All done!” Jack yells and throws his hands in the air.

“Sweet, now let's stick some candy in these bad boys and call it a night.”

“Wait, there’s a extra, what should I do with it?”

“Is there anyone who’s not in your class that you’d like to give a valentine to?”

Jack gasps and slaps a hand over Dean’s eyes, nearly poking one out in the process. “Close your eyes, Daddy!”

Dean dutifully closes his eyes until Jack tells him he’s finished. He slowly opens one eye and sees the pink card held about an inch from his face.

“For me?” he gasps dramatically.

“Yes!”

The front of the card reads ‘You’re the best!’ and when he opens it, he finds ‘Daddy’ written in some of the neatest handwriting from Jack he’s ever seen. Beneath it he’s signed his name, the K backwards like it always is on his first try.

“I gave it to you because you never had one before and also you’re the best daddy ever, who makes me yummy chocolate chip pancakes and cheeseburgers and does funny voices for bedtime stories,” Jack explains.

Dean wraps his arms around his son and rests his cheek on top of his head, his heart feeling fit to burst. “Thank you, Jack. I’m gonna keep this forever.” And he means it.

“Welcome. Can I have a lollipop now?”

Cas points at Dean. “He gets that from you.”

After the valentines are carefully put away and they’ve had dinner (plastic free and edible, which Cas seems proud of), Jack gets a bath and is tucked in bed. Dean and Cas spend the rest of the night sprawled out on the couch watching reruns of Doctor Sexy and drinking beer. Party city.

When the Doctor Sexy reruns switch to Jeopardy, Dean knows it’s officially midnight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess.”

They tip their bottles together.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint you by not planning anything,” Cas says, picking at the label on his beer.

“What? No, of course not. We never do anything. I thought we were on the same page about avoiding that shit after our first Valentine’s together.”

They both shudder thinking about the sweaty cupid ‘handshake’.

“We are, but we never actually discussed it and I…” Cas pauses and tilts his head. “I think having Jack around and seeing the world through his eyes, experiencing things in a new way, it makes me wonder if we’re not missing out on some of the little things.”

“Hey, we appreciate lots of the little things-- like you not cooking frozen pizza with the plastic still on.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, okay. So you sayin’ you wanna celebrate now?”

“Sam and Eileen do.”

“Sam and Eileen are saps. And they don’t have a five year old running around.”

Cas makes a sound of agreement and softly strokes the back of Dean’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “You make a fair point. In all honesty, I don’t want to do anything extravagant but I would like to take the opportunity to remind you how much I love you. Am I allowed to be sappy for a moment?”

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess you deserve one day to get it all out.” He puts their bottles down and faces his husband. “Lay it on me, big guy.”

Instead of looking annoyed, Cas just looks fond. “You know, it’s ironic that a man as full of love as you are is so quick to dismiss any sentimentality. You are a fascinating creature.” A thumb sweeps under his eye where he’s got permanent dark circles and settles at the corner where his lines get deeper every day. It makes Dean want to squirm but he holds still under the reverent touch. “Perhaps that’s why I never stood a chance.”

“C’mon, man,” Dean says, dropping his eyes to the couch.

“Hush, I’m allowed, I’ll have you know. My husband gave me explicit permission.”

“Well, your husband is thinking about rescinding the offer.”

“I love you.”

Cas says it with such conviction that Dean can’t help but look back at him, at his bright eyes and soft smile; at the evidence of his love written all over his face.

“I love you, endlessly, Dean Winchester. For everything that you are; the good and the bad. From the moment I saw your soul in hell, so bright it was almost blinding, I knew I would never be the same. You breathed life into me, gave me meaning and purpose, taught me the value of love, and you did it all, selflessly, simply by being the man that you are.” Cas draws him close, presses their foreheads together. “I can never give back all that you’ve given me but I promise you will have my love until we are nothing but a forgotten memory, and longer still.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and they breath together in the small space between them.

“You can’t-- you can’t just say shit like that,” he whispers.

“And why not?”

“Because it’s not true, first of all.” Cas opens his mouth to argue but Dean covers it with his hand and hurries on. “You’ve already given all of that back and more. God, Cas, if it weren’t for you I’d have been dead years ago. I needed to stick around-- to take care of Sammy, to stop whatever or whoever was trying to end the world next-- but you… you made me want to live. Really live, not just survive, you know? I fuckin’ love you, man.”

Cas pushes Dean’s hand away and presses his lips against Dean’s fervently.

When they finally break apart for desperately needed air, they both pretend they aren’t sniffling like little girls.

“You happy now? Can we go back to not doing this?”

Cas laughs. “I hadn’t planned on making it quite so emotional, I apologize. You always bring out the most in me.”

“Ugh, enough,” Dean groans, shoving Cas’ smiling face away. “You aren’t allowed to say anything even approaching romantic for the next twenty four hours, capiche?”

“I can agree to that, as long as I’m allowed to give you a gift later.”

“I thought you said you didn’t plan anything?”

“It’s nothing big.” Cas’ fingers sneak under Dean’s shirt and trail along his stomach, dipping to his waistband. “I just happened to walk by Victoria’s Secret and see a pair of pink satin panties in the window.”

Dean’s heart beats a little faster. “Oh yeah?” he says breathlessly. “Not gonna lie, that seems more like a present for you.”

Cas hums and leans over Dean, forcing him to lie back on the couch. “Well then I suppose I’ll just have to do whatever you want while you wear them.”

When he kisses him he tastes like cherry candy and Dean thinks could learn to like this holiday.

#spn #destiel #deancas #bend-me-shape-me #sweatercas #rambleoncas #acklesy #alivedean #userpris #usersila #goodthingsclara #shelikestv #hope you guys dont mind me tagging you!!!#sarah writes

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