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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 2 years ago

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The Deal

Supernatural Masterlist

Summary: Since they were stuck in Purgatory together, they had a deal and that deal was simple. Daylight was for survival, fights, and finding Cas. Night time was for what they craved the most. For Benny, it was his blood. And for Dean, it was something he could never tell anyone.

Pairing: Dean x Benny

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut, p in a, unprotected sex, bottom!Dean, top!Benny, pain kink, biting, biting kink, rough sex, blood, blood drinking, spn level of violence

Square: Free space for @spnkinkevents / Pain kink for @anyfandomgoesbingo / Biting for @mfbingo

A/n: I’m very close to the deadline, but here you go! This is set in season 7, Dean is in purgatory with Benny. Enjoy and don’t forget to leave a feedback!

Can be also read on AO3

It was pure.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins seemed insatiable. At every moment, it burned his limbs with a sudden energy, and here he was again. To the right he moved, then it was behind him, another one on his left, they were all around but he saw everything. Felt everything. The heavy machete in his hand, the bark of the wood he had used to make it now smooth against his skin due to wear. The blade that could split even the air in two. And when it met the flesh of his enemy to sink into it, it was easy, soft and fluid, like a knife through butter. It cut through everything in its path, skin, muscle, bone, without encountering any resistance. The head falling to the ground, the dull sound it made, no matter if it fell in the water or on the soft earth. And the scents… The metallic smell of blood was so steeped in his nose, he couldn't even smell it anymore.

He felt all of that like he was connected to it.

His muscles were burning with fatigue after all those days and nights spent without really resting. But that burn, he barely felt it, because the adrenaline never stopped flowing in him... Just like the blood of his enemies that flowed red, one of the only colors still alive in this place.

The world here was black and white. The sensations were like a mirage, moving, walking, everything seemed to slow down. It was like he had to walk underwater, his body felt lighter, but moving was more difficult.

Maybe it was just the dangerous buildup of fatigue. He had no idea. Because he couldn't stop, not for more than a few hours when they had the chance.

The dull sound reached his ears again, his now desaturated green eyes stared at the head rolling in front of him. Red invaded his sight.

“I think this was the last one of the pack, chief. We should head back soon.”

Red. So much red. His gaze stayed on the decapitated head and he didn't flinch. Completely still, he continued to stare at what was left of their enemy, only his heavy breathing could be heard. His shoulders rose and fell almost exaggeratedly, it was harsh and noisy.

“Dean.”

Hearing his name brought him back to himself, like a rope pulling him out of the water. His name, his last part of humanity. Down here, there was nothing that connected him to the real world, where his friends and family still were. His only motivation was to find his lost friend and leave this place because it was the right thing to do.

And because the longer Dean stayed in purgatory… The more he seemed to blend into this apocalyptic world. And the less attractive the idea of getting out of it was.

"Let's go."

Benny nodded even though his friend wasn't looking at him. The hunter's eyes were still on the head lying at his feet. A few seconds later and it was as if nothing had happened, and Dean was walking in the opposite direction without looking back.

The cave where they rested was not far away, and it took no less than an hour for them to get there. They never stayed in one place for too long, Dean’s human and delicious scent attracted all kinds of monsters, and not even Benny could detect them all. When the sun was shining in this colorless sky, the duo had only one goal. Survive. Find Castiel. And the night was for what they needed most.

And while the hunter rested, the vampire stood guard. It wasn't like Dean really slept anyway, the adrenaline was still there in him, he could feel it continually in him. But Benny still preferred to keep an eye out.

“You need to rest, chief.”

They had just arrived and Dean refused to lay down or even sit. That was nothing new, especially after a fight. It was the moment when the adrenaline was the strongest in him, it was like a drug. His high was strong, he was still experiencing it, and it was hard to get off.

"I don't care about resting, Benny. We had a deal.” The hunter was pacing in front of the cave, his dirty hands running through his hair which was starting to get really long. It didn’t matter how many times Benny cut it with his blade, it was always too long and grew too fast. Dean tugged his locks in frustration and turned to his friend. “What, you want your part first? I don’t care, take it.”

"It's not that Dean," Benny sighed as he took a few steps towards him, but Dean ignored his words and pulled his jacket off. The vampire rubbed his eyes and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You need to rest.”

“What can happen anyway,” Dean groaned and when Benny looked up, he found himself so close to Dean that his eyes had to focus to see him properly. "I'm already in hell."

“You know you can die in purgatory, right?” Benny asked, still hesitant. However, it was getting increasingly difficult to say no. Especially when Dean started to unbutton his shirt a few buttons, enough to slide his hand under his collar and pull it aside. He always wore the collar up as extra protection against the fangs he battled by day. But by night… He didn’t need the protection and recklessly exposed his throat to the monster in front of him. “Dean…”

“I know you want it. You don't crave blood like when you were alive, but you like it.” Seeing that Benny still seemed to hesitate, a long growl of frustration sounded in Dean's chest. “Fine.” Disappearing from the vampire’s sight for a few moments, Dean came back quickly but now he was holding something in his hands. His weapon he used to fight.

"Dean, no," Benny grabbed Dean's wrist and sighed again. The hunter waited patiently without moving. "With that, you'll just bleed to death." Benny picked up the blade and put it on the ground. Thirst and hunger, he no longer felt them. However… “You still haven't healed,” his cold fingers brushed the scars still present on Dean's neck. Small holes in rows one behind the other, two half-moons meeting each on their side.

Since he was still holding Dean's wrist, Benny began to examine it. And the longer he stared at that part of the human's body, the more he began to salivate. His fangs came out in spite of himself, sharp, and his mouth parted as his eyes were obsessed with that fragile skin.

“Go on,” Dean hastily rolled his sleeve up to his elbow. “But be sure to not make a mess, we don’t want to- fuck!”

Dean couldn't even finish his sentence that a strong burn spread through his forearm. After several times, he got used to the pain, but the feeling... It was still unpleasant. And not because he didn't like it.

As Benny drank his blood, he held Dean's arm with both hands. He was feeding and letting out moans of appreciation without holding back, he loved it. Loved the taste of blood. Even if he didn't feel the unbearable hunger for it, he liked it and wasn’t ashamed of showing it.

Dean liked it too. A bit too much.

After a few seconds, the pressure on his wrist disappeared and Benny took a few steps back, wiping his mouth. Immediately, Dean wrapped a piece of cloth around the wound, wincing at how sore it still was.

“Satisfied?” Dean grumbled, trying to hide his true feelings by showing displeasure.

"Yes," Benny replied, his breathing rapid and deep. He looked at the human with a surprisingly even hungrier look than before he fed, his eyes burning and unsated. “I think you enjoyed it too, Dean.”

Without looking at it, Dean knew what his friend was talking about. Last time, he attributed it to the excitement that it was his turn to finally get what he needed. But he couldn't deny it anymore… The uncomfortable lump that was deforming his pants was strictly caused by Benny's bite. "Shut up," Dean swore, entering the cave after picking up his jacket. "It's my turn now."

Of course, he wasn't going to talk about it with Benny. Talking about his feelings, how what they shared was the only thing that still made him feel alive. How much he loved that control he had over his own pain. How giving his trust and literally putting his life in Benny's hands made him feel human. And how the pain… Burning, pinching, feeling his blood leave his body, excited him.

It was very dark in the cave, and that was exactly what Dean wanted. He didn't want to see, he just wanted to feel. To feel the touch, the weight of another body against his, anything to remember what it was like before.

That was the deal. The day was for survival. Find Castiel. And the night was for what they both needed most. For Benny, it was the gluttony of being able to drink human blood without feeling hungry. And for Dean, it was something he could never tell anyone. Something he refused to even think about. Something he refused to look at.

In the cave, he settled his jacket on the cold ground. Then he took off his shirt and put it next to it, and finally his pants and underwear. He didn't have to undress for that, he didn't have to do anything. He was the one who wanted it, after all. Benny didn't force anything.

Dean laid on his side on his clothes. It was more comfortable than lying on the cold hard rock directly, but Dean was shaking all the same. In purgatory, it was impossible to feel. Neither hunger, nor thirst, nor cold. But it wasn't necessary. Because the place was so empty and full at the same time, so dead and alive, so bare that it was overwhelming. And all those things Dean couldn't physically feel were omnipresent in him. Hunger, but not for food. The hunger for a touch, for a reality, for the heat of the sun on his skin. Thirst for control, even if it was only one thing. And cold. It was so cold… He needed a presence with him and that was one of the reasons for the deal he made with Benny.

Benny’s skin wasn't warm, but feeling the body pressing behind him filled Dean with heat. A single moan of relief escaped his mouth as the vampire’s naked chest pressed against his back. His hips were placed against his butt and Dean could feel the hardness poking his back, meaning that, like him, Benny wanted it. Eventually, his legs intertwined with his and strong arms wrapped around his figure.

It always started like this. Only a touch, body against body, to exist in the same space. Then, slowly, things became more… Intense.

Benny didn't move at first, but after a while when only their breathing could be heard echoing in the cave, his hands wandered. Caressing Dean's shoulders first, he traveled the body in front of him, exploring it with his fingertips and tracing every muscle of his chest. Chills immediately swept over Dean, his skin filling with goosebumps at the vampire's touch. A growl followed and Benny got the message.

The exploration of his hands descended to finally stop near Dean's hips. There, he gripped the flesh and squeezed, knowing without words that this was one of those times. It was not the time for hugs and touches. Dean wanted it now and without delay.

It was one of those times he needed to feel something intense, just to have something to feel.

No words were needed to understand each other. It wasn't the first time they'd done this, the bite marks that covered Dean's body were proof of that. The older ones were only beginning to fade.

With one of his hands still firmly gripping Dean's hip, Benny roughly turned him onto his stomach and forced him to raise his pelvis. Dean let himself be manipulated like he was only a rag doll waiting to be used. Benny didn’t wait, because neither of them wanted that or were patient enough, and entered a finger directly into him. There was no preparation or care, it had to be raw and rough, that’s what Dean wanted. Benny only used his spit as lubricant, and even if it helped a bit, it removed none of the pain.

Dean welcomed the intrusion, the pain and the burn with pleasure. A small moan mixed with a growl of discomfort escaped his lips, but Benny didn't stop. Dean rested his head against his clothes and took deep breaths as Benny started moving his finger and added a second without waiting. The hunter's body tensed, he clutched his clothes and gritted his teeth, but all his muscles relaxed when the vampire finally touched his sore spot.

A long moan shook his body as Benny continued to press on his prostate every time his fingers found themselves inside to their fullest. But it was too long, the preparation took too long. To signify that he was ready, Dean reached back to grab Benny's wrist.

The absence of his fingers in him was not very long. Because as soon as the vampire pulled them out, Dean could feel something bigger pressing against his entrance, straining to enter despite the incomplete preparation. But that's what Dean wanted, he wanted to feel that pain, that burning, the divine sensation when the head finally went through the ring...

“Oh fuck…”

Dean’s length spilled some precum that fell all over his clothes, he didn't see it, but he felt it. At the same time that Benny's cock was finally inside him, Dean almost came straight away, but he managed to hold himself back.

“Can’t go further if you keep clenching, stop being a little prude and let me fuck you, will ya?”

Without waiting for his response or for him to obey, Benny continued to push into Dean. It was slow, desperately slow and a real torture for Dean as he felt every inch of the cock entering and stretching his insides to the max. He felt so full, and yet Benny kept pushing in, and when he thought he was finally completely inside, Dean was surprised there were still inches to go.

Finally, Dean felt the vampire's pelvis against his ass and understood he was completely buried inside him. Dean’s cock was so hard it hurt, but again, the human welcomed the pain as pleasure. Finally, he felt. He felt something, even if it was pain. He felt it.

"Move," Dean ordered, and the word was barely out of his mouth that Benny obeyed. Pulling completely out of him quickly took the breath out of Dean's lungs, he hadn't expected it, but what was even more intense was how Benny buried himself fully in him again. The burn spread down his back, he felt like he was being torn apart, overrun, though he knew Benny would never go that far to hurt him. He couldn’t bleed any more, or else their little arrangement would be interrupted by hungry creatures attracted by his blood.

Benny repeated the movement and this time his growl accompanied Dean's moan. It felt so good, feeling used like this, like a mere toy, being fucked without any respite or restraint. Leaving control to another but without losing it completely. It didn't take long for Dean to cum the first time, and it felt so good that he didn't even think of taking the clothes off under him so he wouldn't get them dirty. It didn't matter right now, nothing mattered except Benny and him. Benny's cock that continued to rip inside him and hit his prostate, causing moans so loud that Benny had no choice but to act.

The vampire grabbed the human's hair to pull him on his elbows and clapped his hand over his mouth with more force than intended. But that abrupt move only sent a jolt of pleasure through Dean, who tensed as a second orgasm took hold of him. It was almost dry, his balls were tight and pulled up so he could eject what little seed he had left in him. Dean's eyes rolled into the back of his head, his vision turning white as the orgasm seemed to last forever.

Benny continued his thrusts without slowing down, but Dean was so caught up in his pleasure that he didn't notice. He didn't hear Benny's swearing or his breathing becoming more jerky and heavy. He didn't feel the hand squeeze his hip hard enough to leave a blue mark on his skin.

All he felt was the pain and pleasure of being human as Benny poured into him in a growl he couldn't hear. Then, fatigue engulfed him in a long dark tunnel and he fell asleep a few moments later.

∼ ∼ ∼

It might seem like a pretty unfair deal to some. After all, Benny was making a lot out of it. He could drink human blood in purgatory, savor it, feel the heat of the delicious liquid in his throat. And he could fuck a submissive human and break him in any way he wanted.

But in reality, he was the one who suffered the most.

The only way to get Dean to rest was to fuck him until he passed out. It was also the only way he could make him feel anything and give him a reason to keep fighting when giving up would be so easy. Not give up on Castiel, or give up on the idea of getting out of here. But giving up his humanity and simply becoming the killer machine he was meant to be. A monster like all the others here. Killing for pleasure and not for survival.

The deal kept the human sane.

And it was the same for Benny.

For Dean, it was just a deal. Fuck to forget, fuck to feel, fuck to stay alive. But for Benny, it was a way to feed his obsessions. His bloodlust would only increase tenfold when they would be out of here, but not only that. Because even if it was only sex...

Benny was beginning to feel an attachment to the human. And it was not a sane one.

The vampire watched the hunter sleep. Like that, so peaceful, so vulnerable, he didn’t look dangerous at all and yet he was his deadly predator. And Benny was his.

In here, he didn’t feel the need to feed, he did it because he could. He did it because he liked it. But out there…

Benny had no idea what he would do to not completely lose his mind over these two obsessions that lay in one sleeping person next to him.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @b3autyfuldisast3r @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations @fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @siospins2 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse @djs8891 @this-is-me19 @syrma-sensei

#spnkinkevent #anyfandomgoesbingo #mfbingo #Dean Winchester x Benny Lafitte #supernatural dean x benny #supernatural dean winchester x benny #supernatural smut #supernatural dean smut #supernatural dean x benny smut #supernatural denny #supernatural dean x benny lafitte #smut #purgatory!dean #the deal #biting #biting kink #pain kink

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bloodsalteds · 8 months ago

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a wild shudder wriggles its way up dean's spine when he feels cas mouth those words against his mouth. his tongue dips out to lick the taste of his name off the angel's bottom lip. fuck. he'd happily drown in the way it feels. desire washes through his whole body and burns him to his core. fuck! the way he's coming back to life in that touch is so fast now it's making his head spin as the blood rushes towards cas's palm against him. "good, good. me, too," he whines pitched and breathless as cas looks between them and he dares to do the same. there's not much he can see but he can feel everything the shadows hide. cas is left watching as his chin tilts up and lips part with a shuddering breath that doesn't feel does a good enough job at getting air into his lungs but that's more than okay.

thumb pushes against the tip of cas's cock gathering a bit of the slick moisture that's gathered there and using it to coat over his skin. it's okay when cas gets caught up and pauses touching him. cause he knows that the angel's not felt much of this before. dean indulges him by picking up the pace only a little, thumb working in half-circles over the crown to coax more moans out of him. because they sound absolutely sinful in a way an angel should never be able to sound. his name's on repeat until their mouths meet again and it's hungry and messy and dean loves it. his tongue rushes to catch up, coiling against the teeth that've bitten his bottom lip twice before diving back into cas's mouth. he can't stop his hips from squirming when cas starts to stroke along his tip, thumb gliding easily as he pants and pleads to go faster.

dean nods and thinks of one better. his arm hooks under cas. fingers curl into dark strands of hair as his leg presses to the bed enough to sink under him. one strong push and the angel's rolled on top of him. dean's brain's derailed from his original thought for a second. his hand still holding onto him gently between their pressed together bodies but he quickly rushes to think of what the fuck he's doing. because this...this...he fucking played himself. lifting up and meeting cas's mouth, he shows him what to do when his hand grips around both of their lengths the best it can and his hips push up. "oh fuck.. fuck, cas.." his teeth bump against cas's lip with every word, eyes stare up at him round and wide. yeah. he definitely just fucking played himself. big time.

CASTIEL DOESN'T THINK IT'S OKAY IF THE NUMBERS ARE UNEVEN. They should each have the same amount of fun, after all, it's only fair. Luckily, Dean seems to agree right now; Castiel eagerly rolls to his side to kiss Dean back, allowing him to move his hand wherever he wants, gently curling it around Dean's growing erection and following his silent instructions. "I like that, Dean," he murmurs solemnly against the hunter's lips. He loves hearing Dean's voice like that, husky and raw and full of emotions — nothing is faked, nothing is suppressed, and it shows Castiel that he's doing it right.

He breaks the kiss to peer down at where their hands move in tandem. Due to the low light, he can't see much, but his mind fills in the gaps with the wet sound of skin moving on skin and the smooth velvet beneath his fingertips. Then Dean leaves him to it and reaches for Castiel's own length, which coaxes a soft "oh" out of the angel. Divine stamina is excellent because even though Castiel just experienced an orgasm a couple of minutes before, his erection immediately wakes up beneath Dean's skilled touch (or maybe, Castiel thinks a little hysterically, if it's true that male genitals have a life of their own, maybe his penis just really likes Dean). His hand stops automatically, his entire focus on the sparks of pleasure that Dean tickles out of him again. Dear Lord, Castiel wants this night to never end. Is that possible? He could just move them back in time again. It won't be too difficult, not when it's only a couple of hours.

"Dean, Dean," he says, realizes that he's just lying there like an idiot even though it's Dean's turn to experience lust, and quickly gets back to work, turning his head back up to catch Dean's mouth for kisses. It's sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth knocking and noses bumping, but he's skilled at copying Dean's movements on him, his thumb brushing over the tip now and then to spread the pearls of liquid. "Can I — can I go quicker? Dean, please, let's go quicker," he half-orders after about three minutes between pants.

#featuring: castiel (qapsiel)#qapsiel #OH MY #lay your weary head to rest. (chapter i.)

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halevetica · 2 years ago

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I posted 2,037 times in 2022

25 posts created (1%)

2,012 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@quinn-of-aebradore

@mcdannoangelwolf

@thatelyguy

@livebloggingmydescentintomadness

@dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you

I tagged 161 of my posts in 2022

#malex - 25 posts

#roswell new mexico - 22 posts

#arcane - 21 posts

#sterek - 14 posts

#stiles stilinski - 10 posts

#derek hale - 10 posts

#veti talks - 10 posts

#viktor - 9 posts

#my writing-h - 8 posts

#stiles x derek - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 88 characters

#i was literally ran off the road by a group of 30 that were taking up an entire backroad

My Top Posts in 2022:

Leave Me In Ruins(Sterek)

The sound of close footsteps pulled Derek from his slumber. Without opening his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh, “Stiles.”

Stiles stopped his pacing and whirled towards the bed where Derek was now pinching the sleep from his eyes. As he sat up, the blanket fell from his bare chest.

Stiles swallowed as he recalled bracing himself on that exact spot the night before.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, his brows raised in question.

“I…didn’t want to just…leave but I didn’t think you’d want me to stay and so…” Stiles gestured to the room as if that was explanation enough. His teeth worried the bottom of his lip as his widened eyes remained on Derek.

“So you’re pacing in front of my bed?”

Stiles licked his lips, “I don’t want this to change anything,” he spoke quietly between them.

Derek’s expression darkened slightly, “You regret it,” despite the serious look on his face, his tone was apologetic.

“No,” Stiles blurted, “No, no way. Uh uh, definitely don’t regret…any of it,” Stiles pushed down the memory of Derek’s mouth on him as he gestured wildly in an attempt to convince Derek.

A small smile pulled at Derek’s lips briefly.

“Do…you?” Stiles asked, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he waited for Derek’s answer.

Derek remained silent for a moment. His immediate response was yes, but not in the way Stiles would think. He regretted the circumstances. He regretted that they weren’t on the same page. But he didn’t for a second regret being able to touch and hold Stiles the way he had last night. Even now the smell of Stiles was still heavy on his sheets and there was nothing that could make him regret that.

“You can say yes,” Stiles’ voice was small yet understanding.

He was unnervingly still for the first time. It was always a sure sign that something was wrong. It made Derek’s wolf squirm. He hated when something was wrong with a pack member.

“I don’t,” Derek answered though his tone was unsteady.

“That was convincing,” Stiles nodded, running a hand over his face. “Listen, I don’t want you to think that I…expect anything to come of that. We both…were…in a delicate place and…I recognize that we made a mistake.”

Derek’s shoulders straightened.

“I mean, if it had to be anybody, I’m glad it was you because I…think…you won’t let this change anything. Cause Derek this can’t change anything. I can’t…you’re too important to…I just need you to tell me this isn’t gonna change anything,” Stiles’ tongue swiped across his bottom lip before he dug his teeth into it once again.

The smell of worry and anxiety swept over Derek. He could hear the heavy thudding of Stiles’ heartbeat. The gentle tapping of his fingers against the side of his leg was nearly as deafening.

“This won’t change anything,” Derek agreed, desperate to comfort Stiles.

Stiles deflated as he let out a relieved sigh, “Good. Good. Thank you.”

“But I don’t regret it,” Derek couldn’t let Stiles think that was true. “I very much enjoyed it. But I recognize that it was…” Derek paused. “A mistake.”

The words were sour on his tongue.

Stiles nodded, “Yeah. Okay. Umm, maybe we don’t tell anyone?”

“I think that’s best,” Derek nodded. He did not want to have to explain to Scott or Malia that he had slept with their best friend and ex-boyfriend.

“Great, then I will…go,” Stiles gestured towards the door, studying Derek’s face for any clue that this conversation wasn’t over.

“Wait,” Derek slid from between the covers.

Stiles swallowed, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Derek’s face.

Derek stepped close, and inhaled, “You smell like me.” He closed his eyes, trying to commit the scent to memory. The smell of him on Stiles like this was…euphoric.

See the full post

28 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

So, I rarely do any kind of 'self promotion' on here but I thought why not... so for all my Sterek fans:

These are two current WIPs of mine:

Leave Me in Ruins - Derek finds himself in a difficult spot when he mistakenly sleeps with Stiles. The two agree to forget it but Derek can't.

Before long its becoming a regular thing, now Derek has to deal with the issue of falling even more for Stiles or losing him all together.

Stiles never dreamed of waking up next to Derek but it's now a regular thing. However, he has to keep his emotions in check so Derek doesn't realize how he truly feels all while keep their 'relationship' a secret from the pack and dealing with the new big bad of Beacon Hills.

Like it or Not- Stiles works as the editorial assistant at Vogue. He loves everything about his job except for his boss, Derek Hale. Derek Hale is the worst and Stiles hates him.

But when Derek drags him to the yearly awards dinner within the company, he is forced to play boyfriend for the night to make Derek's ex jealous. Things couldn't get much worse...or so Stiles thought.

See the full post

54 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

Here it is guys! It's finally done! 125k words! What a journey! Thank you all for your comments and kudos and support!! Love you all!

86 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

Some of you need a reminder that fanfic is not written for you. It is shared with you. Act accordingly.

175 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Feels Like Home

Derek sat outside of the small coffee shop watching young couples, overworked mothers, and tired college students come and go. He held his own steaming cup in his hands. His jacket pulled tightly around him, his scarf wrapped around his neck. It was a bit too cold to be sitting outside. Not many others were and not for long, but Derek needed this. He needed something to kill the whirring in his chest. It felt like a hurricane under his skin. At first he thought it was him being homesick but when he visited Beacon Hills, nothing was the same. Stiles had joined the FBI. Isaac had moved to France. Lydia went off to some fancy school. Scott became a vet in Los Angeles. His house had been torn down and was now being turned into a park.

The feeling only continued to get worse. He felt restless. He had been traveling since he split from Braden almost four years ago. He never stayed anywhere long because it felt wrong. Nowhere felt like home anymore. He was a drifter with nothing to root him into place. He'd even visited Cora for a few months before having to move on.

Now he sat at a small coffee shop in New York City seeking comfort in the faint memories he'd made here years ago with Laura. They'd sit at this very table and people watch for hours. Laura would make up stories about the bickering couple that walked by, or the teenagers seeking their caffeine high for the day.

Derek watched a mother with their teenage daughter walk by. He imagined what Laura would say about them.

Perhaps she'd claim the mother was lecturing her daughter about choosing boys over her grades while the daughter ignored her in favor of texting her friends.

The thought brought a smile to his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The cold November air burned his lungs. The sun would be setting soon and it would be too cold to people watch. He tipped back the last of his coffee and stood to make his way...somewhere. Back to the hotel he was staying in? That thought made his chest tighten. Perhaps he'd find something to occupy himself on the way.

He tossed his empty cup into the nearby trash and headed down the busy sidewalk. He was never a fan of big cities. It had too many scents and noises. Laura said that was what made it the perfect place to live until they knew they were safe from hunters.

Derek tried not to breath too deep as he continued down the sidewalk. He let his feet carry him aimlessly through the crowded streets, navigating traffic and pedestrians with ease, until he found himself standing at the entrance of central park.

Laura loved to go running here. It was the closest thing to home at the time. Derek had rolled his eyes claiming the handful of trees didn't compare to the reserve. He stood by that even now. Though lately even the reserve didn't feel like home.

He closed his eyes and imagined Laura's laughter as she taunted him for lagging behind. She had always been faster and stronger than him.

"Derek?" A familiar voice yanked him from his memory.

He opened his eyes to see Stiles Stilinski walking towards him from the park's entrance. He looked older than the last time Derek had seen him. His hair was longer and his jaw more chiseled. He had stubble that shadowed his chin and cheeks. It was a good look.

"Dude, what are you doing here?" Stiles asked, coming in for a hug.

Derek reciprocated the hug awkwardly, still caught off guard by the sudden appearance of an old pack member.

"I uh, I'm in town for a bit," Derek answered lamely. He didn't know what he was doing here. Chasing old memories in search of comfort? That wasn't something he wanted to admit to.

"How long?" Stiles asked shifting a bag on his shoulder.

"I'm not sure. What are you doing here?" Derek had thought Stiles was in Virgina.

"I took a job here about six months ago, working with the local FBI."

"Oh. That's great." Derek forced a smile. Stiles seemed different. Happy maybe.

"Are you busy?" Stiles glanced around as if expecting to see someone else with Derek.

"No, I was just..." Derek gestured to the park.

Stiles raised a brow but didn't pry when Derek didn't elaborate.

Derek's chest warmed. He forgot how understanding Stiles was. He never had to explain himself to him.

"Well, I was thinking of grabbing something to eat. If you have the time...you should join me."

Derek smelled the caution in Stiles' scent. He smiled. "I'd like that."

Stiles beamed. He'd clearly been expecting a rejection.

As they walked, Stiles caught Derek up on his life. Derek listened intently being sure to ask questions to keep the conversation on Stiles.

It wasn't until they were seated at the table in the small Italian restaurant that Stiles gave Derek a pointed look.

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315 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

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#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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schmerzerling · 4 years ago

Text

A saccharine, pointless fix-it fic, set post-15x19. Because you deserve it.

Dean doesn’t even make it down the stairs into the bunker before he’s already praying.

Dear Jack, who art in heaven, hope you’re eating your vegetables and wearing deodorant—being a noncorporeal celestial entity is no excuse not to—and, oh, could you please bring your dad back from black goo mega hell?

It seems a little selfish at this point to pray to Jack—kid just brought back the entire human race, so he could probably use a bit of a breather, but it can’t hurt to add just a little tick to his to-do list. Besides, maybe Dean’s earned being a little selfish. Maybe it’s finally Dean’s opportunity to cash in his “whoops, I killed your mom” favor with his wayward antichrist slash omniscient deity slash son.

He gets to the bottom of the stairs, tosses his bag down on the war room table, starts down the hallway toward his bedroom, and.

Oh. There’s Cas.

“It was the first thing he did,” Cas says, like he heard Dean’s prayer. He’s in the kitchen, looking consideringly between a frying pan and a recipe on his phone. From the smell of it, he could be making French toast, maybe, if French toast were black and hard and dense as a brick. “Well, after resurrecting all life on earth, I suppose.” Then Cas says, wistfully, like a proud father who’s just seen his son off to kindergarten, “I hope he’s having a good first day.”

His nose gets that—wrinkle it gets. Dean’s memorized that wrinkle. He knows that wrinkle, and yeah. That’s definitely his Cas filling his kitchen with toxic French toast smog.

“I got back early,” Cas continues, casual like he didn’t do anything more than dodge out of work at four to miss rush hour, “and I figured you and Sam would be hungry when you got home.”

Dean gapes like a fish, mouth open to gulp in toast fumes. Behind him, he hears Sam clang down the spiral stairs in the war room. When he hits the bottom step and clunks onto the concrete floor, he says, “Hey, what do you bet Chuck’s already knee deep in Naked and Afraid territory—”

He rounds the corner, sees Cas in the kitchen, and smiles like it’s his birthday. Then he looks at Dean briefly, uses two fingers under Dean’s chin to close his hanging jaw with an audible click-pop teeth-jowl combo, and flashes Dean a double thumbs up before he retreats quietly down the hallway.

Because he’s an asshole.

Cas looks up from the mess he’s making of Dean’s favorite pan and the nose wrinkle is still there, right above a sweet, wistful smile. He’s really fucking—cute. But he’s an asshole too. The absolute king of the assholes. Because the last time he saw Cas, saw Cas’s eyes, they were spilling over with tears that Dean put there, that loving Dean put there. They were wide and clear and almost reflective, so that Dean could see himself crying back, and so that Dean could see his own devastated face when he realized that Cas was saying goodbye a-fucking-gain. And the worst thing, the absolute worst thing about all that is that he’s smiling now like he was smiling then, like giving up his life for Dean makes him happy in the same way cooking Dean shitty French toast does.

Cas’s smile fades the longer Dean looks at him and doesn’t say anything, and Dean sees when the skittish uncertainty starts taking him over.

“Dean. We can—I know…” He licks his perpetually chapped lips and huffs a quick, fortifying breath. “I didn’t mean to ‘make it weird.’”

He curls his fingers around air quotes when he says it, and a feeling of nostalgic fondness swells up inside Dean so fast it hurts his chest, bursts up against his throat to produce a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. He’s the same fucking Cas he’s always been, Dean realizes. He hasn’t changed, just like Dean asked him not to all that time ago. So the only explanation for the paralyzing feeling of earnest affection bubbling up his throat like top-shelf sangria vomit is—

That Dean has. That Cas hasn’t changed, but he has cast a new light on everything he’s ever done, and now Dean can plainly see that their whole history is painted over in colorful shades of I love you. Dean knew it before, he thinks. That Castiel loved him. But there’s knowing, abstractly, and then there’s seeing and hearing. There’s believing. There’s recognizing that Cas has a secret smile, just for Dean. There’s internalizing his I love you until it buoys him, until it keeps his head above water long enough to see that maybe that secret smile means exactly what he always hoped it did, because maybe he’s been worth that secret smile all along.

Dean lurches clumsily forward, promptly forgetting the two steps that lead down into the kitchen. He trips over his own feet, straight into the kitchen island, with a disastrous clatter. Every spoon and spatula and pot and pan hanging over the top of the island clatters. He can almost sense Sam listening from his bedroom, can almost hear him laughing about how Dean just went toe to toe with God, but one awkward blink of Cas’s baby blues turns him into an bumbling, lovestruck idiot.

Dean skitters around the island, straight into Cas’s space like Cas is always up in his. He says, “No, no,” desperately like that means anything, like he’s afraid Cas is going to disappear before he can make it clear. He breathes right into Cas’s mouth, sharing air like he can’t stand not to. Cas exhales softly as those fucking eyes flit worriedly over Dean’s face. He says, “Oh, Dean, you’re hurt—”

And Dean plants his lips right on Castiel’s.

It’s not much of a kiss. It’s chaste and subdued against the subtle background chime of settling pots and pans. But Cas brings up both hands to cup Dean’s cheeks, just gently, like he’s afraid of exacerbating wounds but can’t stand to let Dean pull away, either. And when Cas finally does pull back to look into Dean’s unfocussed eyes, the sense of beaming contentment that Castiel positively glows with pours directly into Dean through a long, lingering look.

It settles something tumultuous inside Dean. A quiet leaches down into his bones, nestles up against his heart like a purring kitten. And in the sudden silence of his scattered head, he can actually hear himself when he says, “I—I mean. You too. I do too. Love. You, I mean.” He almost ruins it by giving Cas his patented no-homo back pat, but he restrains himself at the last second. He finger-combs Cas’s fringe back from his wrinkled forehead instead.

He wasn’t expecting to say it, because he doesn’t say it, not even in the pathetic, fragmented way he just managed. And Cas clearly wasn’t expecting it either, because his eyes go wide like they were then and he says, “Oh,” on a gentle exhale. “Oh.”

Dean sees his own lovestruck astonishment, reflected again in Cas’s eyes.

Cas drops his hands from Dean’s face and says, all business, “Well. Good.”

“Good.”

Dean clears his throat and steps back. Then he nods down at Castiel’s disaster toast and says, “Can I help you not burn the bunker down?” And Cas nods, slowly and fondly, and laughs because there’s no one to tell him not to. They bump shoulders while they cook and sit on the same side of the dining table while Dean eats and that’s that.

That’s all there is.

#spn #supernatural #destiel #s15 #15x19 #15x20 #deancas #it's nine am so i should probably go to bed now

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years ago

Text

sunsets for somebody else

Daphne runs into her long lost husband arguing with another man in the grocery store. Things start to take a turn when she realizes they're married.

The bottle of bleach drops from Daphne’s hand into her cart, landing with a sloshing thud as she takes in the scene in front of her, frozen in her tracks. Emmanuel is standing right in front of her, arguing with another man about cleaning supplies.

Wearing a beige trench coat for some inexplicable reason—it’s almost 90 degrees outside—Emmanuel listens to a man who’s explaining in minute detail how to clean an oven. They’re both wearing wedding rings, and Daphne’s heart swells for a moment before she realizes it’s a different ring from the one she gave Emmanuel all those years ago.

“Dean, I don’t think this is safe for Jack. This is going to create noxious fumes,” Emmanuel says, squinting at the ingredients of the cleaner apparently-Dean had thrust at him.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and Daphne squeezes the handle of her shopping cart harder, feeling faint. It’s not every day you come across your long lost husband at the Stop N’ Shop.

“I think the kid can take some fumes,” Dean says, plucking the bottle out of Emmanuel’s hands and putting it in the cart. “We wouldn’t even have to worry about this if someone didn’t let the pizza fall onto the bottom of the oven.”

“The directions said to put it directly on the middle rack!” Emmanuel protests, and Dean rubs a hand down Emmanuel’s back in a familiar way that makes Daphne’s stomach roil.

She’s not jealous, she’s not. She was just helping Emmanuel when she found him, after all. Their marriage was simply one of…convenience for Emmanuel. It’s not like he had a birth certificate with him, or a social security number. What did Daphne get out of all this? Well. Daphne looks at his cheek bones wistfully, her gaze dipping down to his strong forearms his trench coat is rolled up to reveal.

Dean rolls his eyes fondly, and then he tugs Emmanuel into his side, kissing him on the temple. Daphne jerks her stare away for a moment before returning it, noticing now that their wedding rings match.

“Emmanuel?” she chokes out, against her better judgment.

For a long second, she doesn’t think Emmanuel heard her, but he turns around. “Daphne?”

Daphne nods, her words forsaking her. She doesn’t miss the way Dean clutches possessively at Emmanuel’s hip.

“I…thought you were dead,” she finally says. “I filed a missing person report.”

Dean squints at her, before something like recognition passes over her face, and now that she thinks about it, Daphne recognizes him, too. He’s the one who showed up right before everything went to shit. Horror stories of Stockholm syndrome flash through her mind.

“Emmanuel, are you…happy?” she settles on.

Emmanuel gives her a smile, leaning harder into Dean. “I am.”

“Good. That’s. Good,” she says, a strangled look on her face, she’s sure. “Would you want to catch up some time?” she asks before she fully registers what’s coming out of her mouth.

Emmanuel gives her a warm smile. “I’d love that.”

As they set up a time to get coffee, Daphne tries to ignore the glare Dean levels at her throughout the whole conversation. He insists that their meeting be tomorrow, since apparently they won’t be in the area for long. Daphne tries to ignore the warning bells in her mind that tell her she’s about to get murdered and takes solace in the fact that at least they’re meeting in a public place.

Besides, even if Emmanuel’s husband is a serial killer, surely Emmanuel won’t let him murder her, right?

The next day, Daphne hems and haws as she debates what to wear. Whatever this is, it’s the exact opposite of a date, anyway. She knocks on the door of her foster child, Alex, to wake them up before she goes into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. Really, she’s just doing it for herself. She’s allowed to want to look nice!

When she finally deems herself as ready as she’s going to get, she goes back to Alex’s room to make sure they’re actually up. To her pleasant surprise, they’re sitting on the edge of their bed putting on their socks and almost ready. “Excited for school today?” she asks.

Alex makes a face at her. “Never,” they say, but their voice at least has the edge of a smile to it.

They’ve come a long way since they were first placed with her, and even though Daphne knows she shouldn’t be getting overly attached, she can’t help it. She walks down the steps and into the kitchen, deliberating for a moment on breakfast before putting frozen waffles into the toaster. If she’s about to get murdered while Alex is at school, she can at least make sure the last thing she made for them wasn’t cereal.

Alex tromps down the steps, dragging their bookbag behind them, and Daphne hides her smile behind her glass of orange juice. Alex lights up at the sight of the waffles, disturbingly easy to please, as always. They inhale them, as teenagers do, before putting their dishes in the sink. Daphne cracks open her laptop as they wait for the bus, attempting to get some of her work done for the day since she’ll be taking a break later for the coffee. She really hopes her boss doesn’t try and call her while she’s out.

Or, maybe she does. She’s not sure she’s prepared for the level of awkwardness that she’s about to go through, but maybe it won’t be as bad as she thinks. She really wants to know what Emmanuel has been up to for all of this time. She’s still…embarrassingly hung up on him, and it would be nice to get some closure.

The bus pulling up in front of the house jerks her out of her thoughts, and she gives Alex a wave before they race off to get on. She watches them settle into a seat with one of their friends, and smiles at the fact that they even have friends now.

In the end, Daphne doesn’t manage to get much work done before she clambers into her car and drives to the coffee shop they agreed on. She doesn’t really think she needs caffeine with the way her leg is bouncing already.

Emmanuel and Dean are already there when she walks in, Emmanuel with a cup of black coffee he’s dumping sugar packets into and Dean with something with whipped cream and chocolate syrup drizzled on top. She gives them a tentative wave before ordering hot chocolate for herself, settling herself delicately in the seat across from them.

“So,” Dean says. “You were Cas’s wife?”

She squints. “Cas?”

Emmanuel speaks up. “After I regained my memories, I remembered that was my name.”

“Oh.” Smiling weakly, she tries to reconcile that. “You have them all back now?”

Emman—Cas nods.

“Just forgot about me, though?” she tries to ask lightly, but it comes out a little garbled.

“You took advantage of him!” Dean explodes from the other side of the table, making Daphne flinch. “Who the fuck finds someone naked with no memories and marries them?”

“Dean,” Cas chastises, his arm shifting like he’s putting his hand on Dean’s thigh under the table.

“I was helping him,” Daphne says hotly. “Would you have just wanted me to leave him there?”

Cutting Dean off before he can say anything else, Cas looks at Daphne and smiles in a way that makes her heart flutter. “I’m very grateful. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to let you know I was alright.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his sugar monstrosity. He comes away with a whipped cream mustache, and it’s hard not to laugh as he wipes it away in total seriousness.

“So,” Daphne says. “You two have a kid? Jack?”

Scowling, which seems to be Dean’s automatic reflex, he exchanges a glance with Cas before softening. “Yeah, we have a kid. He’s four.”

Daphne thinks maybe Dean should have been a little bit more concerned about the fumes of cleaning chemicals if they have a four year old, but she keeps her judgments to herself. Cas beams. “He’s very bright.”

Returning the smile tentatively, Daphne asks, “How long have you two been married?”

“It’s almost our one year anniversary,” Dean says gruffly.

Daphne tries not to let it affect her, even if that’s more time than she ever got with Cas. “Practically newly weds, then!”

“It’s been an adventure; that’s certain,” Cas says, smiling serenely even as Dean elbows his ribs. “Tell us about you, Daphne. What have you been doing?”

Daphne shrugs a shoulder. “Oh, not too much.” Mourning the man I pulled out of the woods and saved and married, she doesn’t say. She knows Emmanuel never felt the same way about her that she did him. “I got approved to be a foster parent, so I’ve had a few kids come through.”

“Helping people has always been your calling,” Cas says softly.

Daphne takes a few minutes to gush about Alex, and her previous kids before them, before she notices Dean’s not actively glaring at her anymore.

“That’s…nice,” he begrudges when she finishes.

“What do you do, Dean?”

Looking like he just dropped something on his foot, he stammers before he hastily says, “I work construction.”

Daphne squints at him. She has the feeling he’s lying to her, but she has no idea why he would be.

“And what about you, Cas?”

“Oh, I mostly just take care of Jack.”

“You’re a stay at home dad?” she asks, the thought making her stomach twist into knots and heat rise to her face.

“Of a sorts,” Cas agrees.

God, they’re making it impossible to carry on a conversation with them. Daphne keeps a smile pasted to her face. “What do you two do for fun?”

“I’m convinced Dean thinks fun is superfluous,” Cas confides, even as Dean splutters at him. “But I like to drag him to thrift stores with me. Dean likes to bake, also.”

“I work on cars, too,” Dean says, and Daphne can feel his desperation to maintain his facade.

She tries not to quirk a smile at his discomfort. They chat for a while longer, Dean getting increasingly dodgy about the questions she asks before she finally excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She shuts the door behind her and looks down at the dank floor. Is she getting what she wanted out of this? She has no idea what she even imagined happening when she asked to catch up. Emmanuel running away with her? Maybe in her wildest fantasies. Taking a deep breath to ground herself, she looks in the mirror and checks her makeup, rubbing at her under eye circles before walking back out of the bathroom.

Cas is at the counter ordering another drink, for Dean, by the sound of the sugar content, and she walks over to him. Hesitating before she bites the bullet, she asks, “You’re not…like, being held against your will, right? That Dean seems,” she pauses, “interesting.”

Cas laughs warmly, putting a hand over Daphne’s. “No, nothing like that. This is a choice of my own free will, believe it or not. Dean is much more caring than he lets on.”

Well, Daphne’s not sure she believes it, but. At least he’s happy, and in the end, that’s all she’s ever wanted for him.

#supernatural #destiel #castiel #outsider pov #daphne allen #the born again identity #contemplative writing

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deansawthetvglow · 4 years ago

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still beautiful

dean rescues cas from the empty. it’s a long process, seven weeks from when cas left, but he does it, hauls him out, graceless, and smiles.

they toast, cas seems worried, but dean doesn’t let that affect him. sam pours them whiskey, they drink, not too much, just a few fingers. sam heads to bed, he’s got a date with eileen tomorrow.

dean sits beside castiel, observing him. cas is looking at his fingers, playing with the glass there.

dean reaches out, soft, and lets his fingers touch castiel’s. blue eyes dart up to meet his. dean gives a small smile, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know if he could, what with his heartbeat drowning everything out and all.

he lets his fingers do the work, more insistent, pulling cas’ from the glass and into some semblance of holding. he moves to stand, pulls cas up. he goes willingly, doesn’t ask any questions, just lets dean lead him. lead him out of the kitchen, down the hallway, to a familiar door.

dean’s shaking. “let’s get some rest.”

castiel lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. it’s a lot, to be human again, to feel, he thinks he may explode like a star, from the sheer force of emotion threatening to burst out of him.

dean opens the door, shoos miracle from her spot on the floor, tells her to ‘go get sammy.’

he chuckles to himself at that.

he finally lets castiel’s fingers drop from his light grip, and he moves to his dresser. he pulls out a soft blue henley and flannel bottoms for himself, and then throws a shirt and a pair of sweatpants at cas. cas is standing in the middle of the room, unmoving. dean undresses, redresses, facing the other way, he doesn’t want awkward, he wants to rest, to feel castiel beside him, breathing, breathing, alive

he moves to the bed, only then letting himself look to cas. cas is still. holding the clothes, looking nervous.

“come to bed, cas.”

cas nods, the confirmation that dean wants him to stay seeming to comfort him.

he changes, dean averts his eyes best he can.

and then castiel is there, next to the bed, and dean is slipping under the covers and holding up a side for his best friend to slip in beside him.

dean and castiel are lying in dean’s bed. it’s warm, burning, in the embrace of cas’ arms. dean’s there, listening to cas’ heartbeat through the soft, worn tshirt. he can feel cas’ breath hit his hair. they lie there for a long time, dean’s not sure how much has passed, just that they dimmed the lights some time ago and the glow makes the room feel like home, even more so now.

he looks up when he senses castiel looking at him, he rolls to his tummy, places his arm and his chin on castiel’s chest so he can look back.

“hi”

cas gives a small smile, lets his eyes drift to the ceiling

“cas, what’s up?”

he hears a shaky breath, feels it exhaled through compressing lungs.

“i never thought i could have this.”

dean props himself up a little better, balances himself so he can place a hand on cas’ jaw and angle his head back down to make eye contact.

“you can, cas. you can.”

“dean-”

“yeah?”

“i...i have to tell you something”

worry rolls in dean’s stomach, what if this isnt what castiel wants. what if that’s not what he meant before the empty took him, what if he didn’t want dean to save him what if-

a gentle hand brushing his arm grounds him. he didn’t notice how far he’d pulled away, but he lets himself sink into the touch.

“dean, i-” dean gets a good look at the angel—no...human now—beneath him. he’s blushing, a flush pink spreading across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears and his nose. dean quirks his head, a movement probably picked up from cas. his voice is softer now when he speaks, still low and rolling, but soft,

“i think you’re beautiful.”

and dean’s heart leaps right up out of his chest. he doesn’t want to break the moment so he just stares, lets his eyebrows pinch, lets cas’ hand come up to his hairline and brush a piece, out of place, from his forehead.

“you’re beautiful, dean.”

dean reacts then, pushing himself down and bringing his lips to cas’. his heart is tight, his stomach alight with butterflies, and his lips are moving against cas’. it’s the first time he’s kissed cas. the first time he’s let himself have this. this is the one thing dean wants. the one thing cas wants. and so he lets himself want and want and take and take and take and when he emerges, full and shaking and breathless, he can’t open his eyes. he can’t let himself fall into pools of too blue, too bright, too beautiful.

he feels a finger on his cheekbone, a finger brushing his eyelid, a finger on his top lip, tracing.

“look at me”

and so dean, heavy lidded and nervous, opens his eyes.

castiel is looking up at him, a former angel looking up above and acting as though dean is heaven. and dean sees his cheeks are burning and his lips are shining and his eyes are bright and searching, and he swallows.

“i...i think you’re beautiful too, cas”

#destiel #deancas #destiel ficlet #the empty #spn 15x18 #destiel fix it #angel !!#king !!#i should add a read more but im on mobile #sorry #long post #my fics #still beautiful #still dean winchester

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spnsisterimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Mario Kart

Summary - Y/N decides to engage her brothers and Castiel into Mario Kart, not realizing what she was getting herself into.

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Jack Kline x Platonic!Winchester!Reader, Castiel x Winchester!Reader

Word Count - 1,911 words

"Let's get it!" Y/N squeals, claiming her spot on the middle of the couch. She was practically bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for everyone to join her. The Dean Cave had brightened considerably since she had added a few redecorations. While Dean initially denied her, she had forced him to allow her to put up LED lights, several polaroids from her camera(they were mostly of herself smiling widely at the camera while Sam and Dean looked mildly annoyed with fake smiles. There was also a real funny one where Sam was unconscious on a hunt and Y/N decided to pose beside him), as well as posters from their favorite bands. Not to mention the added dock to the TV stand to hold her Nintendo Switch that Sam had bought her for her previous birthday.

She supposed he regretted it now, since she was forcing him to play a game he'd never even heard of.

He entered the room first, holding a big bowl of popcorn and a soda. Dean followed close behind, Little Debbie packages hanging from his mouth since his arms were occupied with pillows from their bedrooms and a pack of beers for himself. Jack was the only one to come empty handed. He happily took the spot beside Y/N, waving merrily as Castiel also appeared with two sodas(both of them for Beth because he was just so considerate), taking the spot on her other side.

"I'll give this an hour before we switch to movie night, Y/N," Dean warned as he occupied his armchair, which was to the left of the couch. She had discovered this old thing at a garage sale. It had been a rather stressful day because Dean had refused to strap it to Baby and they had to hound what little friends they had for a truck. Since most of their friends were dead, Y/N had hot wired one outside of a bar and returned it before the drunk redneck inside could notice it had even left. She was sure the dent in the bed was there before they put the couch on it. Sam had not been happy about that.

Sam took his own armchair, which was to the right of the couch.

"What is it, again?" he asked curiously.

"Is the only thing in the media you've ever heard Facebook? You've seriously never heard of Mario Kart?" Y/N asked, happily accepting one of the sodas from Castiel. "Dad really did a number on us. I was introduced to this through Charlie." She got up to grab the number of controllers necessary for four. Jack was eager to try the game, but he was always open to trying new things, something Y/N could appreciate.

After connecting them to the Switch, she handed them out to her brothers along with Jack before returning to her spot on the couch between the angel and nephilim.

"If I remember correctly from what you've told me, it's a racing game, right?" Castiel asked.

"Exactly, except with a few quirks to make it interesting. Like, um...I could throw a shell and hit one of them and vice versa. Or a banana peel. I'll give them a trial run before we actually get into it. Are you sure you don't want to try it, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head. "I have seen how you play with Charlie, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of your anger. And I rather like watching you in your element."

Y/N smiled, blushing, before playfully pushing him.

"I need to get drunk to stomach this," Dean said, offended as he popped one of the beers open and took a gulp. "Keep the PDA to a minimum guys, you've got a kid next to you. Alright, what buttons do I push to hit Sam?"

"What the hell?" Sam scoffed.

"What?"

"We haven't even started and you're gunnin' for me?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"Alright, alright! First we gotta pick our player," Y/N mediated, pressing the buttons to get them to the screen full of Mario players. "I already got mine." She moved her icon until it landed on Wendy, before selecting her. "Obviously the best character, hands down."

The three boys maneuvered their icons over different characters, for some reason taking it a little too seriously on who they would choose. Sam selected his first.

"Luigi?" Dean scoffed.

"You got a problem?" Sam asked.

"No, but...why Luigi?"

"Who cares, I just chose him."

"You have to have a reason, man." Dean shook his head, before selecting his own.

"Why'd you choose Bowser, then?"

"Because he's a badass. And he'd beat the holy hell out of Luigi if the games lost their PG rating," Dean shrugged.

Jack hummed thoughtfully, still scrolling. "I choose him!"

He selected Toad.

"Why him, Jack?" she asked.

"I like his hat."

Y/N snorted, but it was a valid enough answer. Once everyone was ready, she selected the settings for the game and then decided to use the time to explain to them how the controls worked and anything else they were curious about. After a few trial races, they were ready for the real thing. Castiel was sitting patiently, his hands on his lap.

"You assholes are going down," Dean declared, bringing his remote closer to him.

"So much for being appropriate in front of the kid," Y/N sneered, but she was just as ready.

She set the game to go through ten races with a random select for the roads.

And with that, they were off.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Dean yelled, nearly jumping to his feet. His first empty beer bottle slide across the floor from his rapid movement. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH IT! I DIDN'T GO NEAR THE GODDAMN PEEL!"

"That might've been mine," Sam stated, smugly. "But Bowser also takes up half the road, so avoiding it was probably impossible anyway."

Dean squinted. "You callin' me fat, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged. "Luigi's doing just fine."

Y/N hid her smile as she hit her own item, snatching that smile right from Sam's face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, incredulous, the red shell sending Luigi off the edge of the map.

"You got in my way!" Y/N sang.

It only seemed to get worse from there. What was supposed to be an hour of playing turned into four with the bowl of popcorn thrown across the room at Dean when he had decided to hit Sam three times with three separate shells before snagging first place and doing a lewd dance as a way to declare his victory. Y/N's hair had bristled up, becoming bushier almost as though it were alive. Her right eye was twitching, and her hands were cramping by now.

Jack, however, was having a good time. He has gotten last place the entire time, but he was still having fun, and that's what truly mattered.

Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, not knowing whose side he should take because all three Winchester siblings were completely out of their minds, including Y/N.

Finally, it was the last race. Everyone's nerves were shot. Sam's hair seemed even more raggedy than Y/N's, and his shirt was stained with soda because Dean decided to take vengeance by chucking his pillow at him when Sam was taking a big gulp. They had to pause the game for several minutes while Sam fought for his life coughing and wheezing because the soda went down the wrong pipe.

"I'm afraid I must at least attempt to deter you guys from participating in another race. There aren't any weapons in the Dean Cave, but I'm sure you three will find a way to kill each other," Castiel said, worried. "Jack, are you okay?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I'm having fun!"

"I will let it be known if I lose, someone is dying tonight. I will call Billie to fix it, but someone has to die tonight if I lose," Y/N threatened.

"Good luck with that, I'm kicking all of your asses, and you can kiss mine when it crosses the finish line," Dean said.

"I don't even care if I win, as long as you guys lose. And I'll make sure it happens." Sam jeered.

With that, the race began. Aside from Jack and Castiel, everyone was bloodthirsty. Surely no matter who won, someone was gonna be pissed off. Castiel was making a mental note to grab Jack as soon as possible and escort him out of the room while the siblings brawled.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Y/N shouted, jumping to her feet. "WHO DID IT! WHO DID IT?"

"I did!" Sam happily announced, moving to and fro with the turn of his controller, as though he were in the game himself.

"I'm gonna get you, Sam," Y/N snarled, pressing hard on the buttons, trying her best to catch up to her brother, collecting any items she came across, but none of them were good enough, so she kept using them without thinking until she heard Dean curse and also jump to his feet.

"THAT WAS ME, JACKASS!" he yelled, completely distraught. "I didn't even do anything this time!"

"You probably deserved it anyway!" Sam shrugged, continuing to maneuver through the AIs to get to the front.

By that time, Dean and Y/N had caught up, and with all they had, they used their items to completely screw each other over up until every kart had passed them. In the end, they were the bottom three with Sam first, Y/N second, and Dean in dead last. And for a moment there after, nobody said anything. They were completely beside themselves in utter shock at what just occurred.

"What just happened?" Y/N asked, deflating considerably.

"We lost..." Sam mumbled.

"Screw you guys, I lost overall!" Dean scoffed.

"I won!" Jack suddenly cheered, leaping to his feet and jumping up and down. "I won!"

"You what?" Y/N asked, shocked as her eyes trailed to the top. Sure enough, Toad was in first place. "You're kidding!"

"I can't believe I won!" Jack said, smiling as he high-fived a proud Castiel.

"I want a rematch," Dean commanded, sitting back down and retrieving his controller.

"Yeah, me, too!" Sam agreed.

"I'm down!" Y/N eagerly agreed, about to grab hers when Castiel snatched it. He went around the room, taking up all the controllers.

"Given that it's five in the morning, and just a couple moments ago you three were ready to quite literally rip each other's throats out, I'm going to recommend everyone get up and get to bed instead," he instructed curtly. "I think we should postpone a future night of games indefinitely, at least for a little while until you three can learn to control yourselves."

"What-but-you can't-" Y/N sputtered.

"Quite literally, I can shut off whatever is necessary so you can never play the game again with just a snap of my fingers," Castiel warned. "Shower and get some sleep. Jody already told us she needed to discuss something at noon tomorrow, and it would be rude if we were tardy. C'mon, let's go!"

With a grumble, everyone got up and cleaned their mess, ignoring each other vehemently as they walked out. Except for Jack; he was practically skipping.

There was another good thing about tonight that he knew about. He was the one that triggered the lightning item that really stumped the three siblings and put them at the bottom three.

332 notes · View notes

curlynerd · 3 years ago

Text

Just Say It

Happy gift posting day for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! I had two assignees, so I'm posting two fics today! My 2nd gift recipient is @deanwinchesteradjacent! She requested canon-adjacent Destiel with fluff, action, and a happy ending. I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 7.5K Rating: T Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong? Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Dean is bad at feelings, case fic, beach fic.

Also read it on AO3!

“Alright, I’m heading out.”

“Did you pack deodorant?”

“Dean…”

“Toothpaste? Mouthwash?”

“...”

“Those fancy hair products? Cuz there’s just. So. Many--”

“Dean! I’ve lived my whole life on the road. I know how to pack a damn dufflebag!”

Dean smirked, unperturbed by Sam’s whining. “Yeah but Eileen is a classy lady. She’s not gonna put up with your usual road stank.”

Sam sighed in annoyance as he readjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’m not the one who wears his underwear three days in a row, jerk.”

“Better leave that attitude at home, bitch,” Dean said cheerfully. “It’s your anniversary, after all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a shy grin despite his best efforts. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said, letting Dean have one last bit of fun before he left. “You and Cas too. Don’t get into trouble.” He nodded in farewell before he climbed the stairs to the bunker door.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Sam paused at the top of the stairs and turned around. Almost like he could sense what was coming, his eyebrow twitched in irritation. Dean hucked a box up to the landing, and Sam fumbled to catch it. Dean flashed a shit-eating grin as Sam read the Trojan label and fixed him with a scowl. “Make sure you wrap it before you tap it, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

Dean laughed to himself as he turned back to his laptop, scrolling through news articles looking for a hunt. He was still at it an hour later when Cas came shuffling into the room still in his pajamas, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean crooned cheerfully. Cas’ hair was in wild disarray, and between that and his worn, brown sweatshirt and loose pajama bottoms, he looked more like a bear stumbling out of hibernation than a guy just waking up. “Sam already left.”

Cas set a mug down in front of Dean before slumping down into the chair beside him. “I hope he and Eileen have fun this week,” he mumbled as he hunched over his coffee.

Dean smiled at how adorable Cas looked, all grumpy and sleep-ruffled. He was still an angel...somewhat. He had Grace, if only a little. So close to mortality, Cas often needed mundane human things like sleep and food. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. In fact, he was so irritated about the whole thing that Dean hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to invite him to sleep in his room, instead of alone. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe after this case, things would change.

“Are you looking up a case?” Cas asked, tilting toward Dean’s screen.

“Uh...yeah.” With forced casualness, Dean turned the laptop so Cas could read a headline from last year: “Gruesome Death at Bed and Breakfast Leaves Locals Worried.” “Over the past forty years, there’ve been six deaths at this B&B. All either heart attacks or a brain hemorrhage. All without a scratch on ‘em. Always a couple. Always on the same night: this Friday. That sure screams ‘ghost’ to me.”

“Key West?” Cas asked as he scanned the article. “Florida? That’s quite a drive.”

Dean shrugged. His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “It is, but hell, why not? Sam gets the week off with Eileen, why can’t we have a little vacation too?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. Suspicious. He was suspicious. Was a little time off really so bad? “You haven’t taken a vacation the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean struggled to come up with a good excuse. “That was, ya know. Before.”

“Before,” Cas repeated stiffly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Before everything.” He gestured around his head. Before Cas told him he loved him and immediately died. Before Dean rescued him from The Empty. Before they wound up in this awkward, stilted Angel’s-First-Romance training wheels relationship Dean found them in.

That seemed to placate Cas. He nodded and took another sip of coffee. “The beach would be nice…”

Dean broke into a grin. “Better than nice! Toes in the sand, drinks with little umbrellas… That’s better than paradise.” He gave Cas’ shoulder a friendly pat. Then--because he could, couldn’t he?--Dean let his hand run along the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and gently cup the back of his neck.

This was okay, right? He’d held back on any sort of real PDA because of how uncomfortable Cas would act. And that was okay. He understood. Angels and intimacy...Well, angels just worked differently than humans. And it was all new to Cas! It took him over a decade to say he loved Dean. It would probably take awhile before he was ready to hold hands.

But this wasn’t very much, right? Just a light hand on the back of his neck. This was about as innocent as things got!

Except Cas went stiff under Dean, and Dean took the hint and pulled his hand away as he bit back a sigh. So much for that.

His eyes trailed back to his laptop. Hopefully this getaway would change things, help Cas loosen up and finally see that they could act even a little like a couple now. A romantic beach, warm sunshine, half-naked romps in the water, a cozy and only slightly haunted bed and breakfast…

What could go wrong?

----

Three days and one slightly terrifying highway over the ocean later, Dean and Cas pulled into a parking space for a charming bed and breakfast painted in a lovely pale--

“Lavender?” Dean balked at the decidedly dainty color of the siding. “I know they like their pastels here, but geez…”

“It’s just a paint color,” Cas said as he crossed around to the trunk and started unloading their bags. The duffle full of salt, shotguns, and various iron weapons clanked ominously. He shouldered it carefully so it wouldn’t make so much noise.

“This whole street is like friggin’ Candy Land.” Dean eyeballed the canary yellow house across the street suspiciously as they made their way to the front door.

The inside was clearly the result of a scandalous love affair between a Jimmy Buffet concert and a Hallmark store--All tacky tropical themed furniture and a dizzying array of porcelain figurines.

Dean grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Cas. At Cas’ inquisitive eyebrow, Dean nodded his head to a shelf full of long-haired, sad-eyed blonde angels. Cas rolled his eyes while Dean laughed to himself.

“Hello! Can I help you?” An older woman sat behind a small reception desk, smiling warmly at them in the glow of her ancient computer.

Dean put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Yes you can. Hi, I’m Dean, and this is my, uh…” Dean glanced over to Cas and his eyes crinkled in delight. “Cas. This is my boyfriend, Cas.” Just the word caused a giddy bubble of effervescence to float inside Dean’s chest. After all this time, they were really here. This was real.

Cas offered the receptionist a small, tight smile before turning his studious gaze to the figurines on the wall shelves. The woman furrowed her brow, so Dean charged forward with the conversation before Cas’ awkwardness put her off. If they were going to pry into the case here, they needed her to be friendly with them. “I booked a reservation for this weekend. It--Are you guys still open? It’s kinda quiet in here.” Dean glanced around the empty living space. There weren’t any other cars parked outside either.

The woman waved off his concerns. “Oh yes, it’s just the off season right now. Some weekends are like that.” She spoke a little too quickly as she clicked through her computer. Dean suspected all the news articles about bloody deaths had something to do with it. “Not hard to find your reservation. You’re our only guests tonight.” She grabbed two keys off a hook and held them out for Dean. “You’ll be in room 4, down at the end of the hallway upstairs. It’s the largest one. If you need extra towels or anything, let me know. I’m Susan.”

Sensing they were about to be dismissed, Dean swerved into a distraction. “You know, we’ve been on the road for ages. Do you have any coffee or anything like that? A little wakeup before we hit the beach?”

Susan pushed back from the desk. “Oh of course! I was about to get some for myself, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Keep an eye out for anything suspicious, Cas,” Dean muttered as Susan disappeared down a hallway. “Anything out of place or really old. You know, haunted stuff.” Cas nodded, and Dean covertly pulled his EMF reader out of his jacket pocket and flicked it on. It was silent. They both made a pass of the room, pretending to look around.

“Here we are!” Susan said brightly, expertly holding three coffee mugs in her hands. Dean jumped a little and hastily put his device away before turning around. “I hope cream and sugar is okay.”

“Any caffeine is fine,” he assured her as he and Cas took their mugs. “So Susan, what is there to do around here? You know, other than what Yelp says. The insider’s scoop.” Dean winked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Susan smiled. “Well, if nightlife is your thing, there are some great spots within walking distance.”

Dean chuckled. “C’mon, Susan. Does this guy look like much of a dancer?” He grinned fondly at Cas as he draped his arm over his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much his stomach fluttered from the small action, but dammit, after all they’d been through to get here, Dean had earned a few butterflies. He squeezed Cas’ shoulder even though Cas didn’t really react. Dean was definitely going to have to clarify that the personal space rule didn’t apply anymore.

“Well, the restaurant down the street also does an excellent brunch,” Susan offered instead.

“Now that’s more our speed.” Maybe if the hunt went well they could actually stay the night, instead of getting the hell out of Dodge before the cops chased them down. Keep their salt and burn quiet and enjoy a nice night in. Dean tried not to get his hopes up for sharing a bed with Cas.

And he did mean sharing a bed. Things were moving so slowly between him and Cas he’d be thrilled just to spoon, nevermind anything else. Dean bit back a sigh as he swept over all of the knick-knacks and decorations, hoping for some sort of clue as to the identity of their ghost. “I’ve gotta say, I love the decor. Is all of this your collection?” Maybe a haunted object? Or a cursed one?

“Most of it.” A faint twinge of wistfulness colored Susan’s words as she looked over the porcelain figurines. “My Marcy liked to collect the angels, but that was years and years ago.”

On a high shelf was a large urn next to an oil painting of a young woman that immediately pinged Dean’s hunter’s instincts. “That’s a lovely painting over there,” he said, catching Cas’ eye meaningfully. Cas turned around to look too.

Susan’s face melted into a quiet, sad smile. “Yes, that’s my Marcy right there. A self-portrait. She was such a talented artist.”

Cas tilted his head. “She was your...wife?” he guessed.

Susan’s face crumpled. “No. No we were never…” She took a deep breath and continued in a steadier tone. “She was my business partner, but I loved her. Very much. And I knew she loved me too. So I suppose you could say we were almost together. Should have been together.” Her lower lip trembled.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what stopped you?” Dean felt bad for pressing her for information that was clearly upsetting, but people’s lives were at stake. Possibly Susan’s own.

Susan curled her hands around her mug, staring into the steaming coffee with a far off look in her eyes. “I was afraid. Of my own feelings. Of opening myself to getting hurt. So I...When Marcy needed me to be honest about how I felt I...I let her down. She got mad...We fought...She ran off. There was an accident, and...Well...” Susan took another deep breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears and heavy with regret. “Today is the anniversary of the day she died.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dean said, injecting even more sincerity into his words even though he expected as much. Marcy was the best lead so far. Was she attacking people on the anniversary of her death? She was obviously cremated, but perhaps there was something keeping her tied here?

“Not your fault,” she said with the heaviness of one who had heard those words hundreds of times. She shook her head. “You’re not the reason she--” Susan cut herself off and swallowed down her tears. Despite her best efforts, a single tear trailed down her cheek.

“It sounds like you loved her very much,” Cas said, his voice infused with genuine sympathy.

“She was my world. I loved her more than she’ll ever know...” Again Susan fell silent, this time lost in thought.

Then, with a deep, resettling breath, she wiped at her eyes with the edge of her finger and forced a cheerful expression. “But enough of that. You’re my guests. You don’t need to hear all of that! Do you need anything while you get settled in? More towels? Recommendations for restaurants?”

Dean shook his head, “Appreciate it ma’am, but we’ll probably just grab whatever’s convenient around here.”

“Well, would you like to eat here? Usually I don’t serve dinner for guests, but since it’s only the two of you, I can cook up something if you’d like. I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.”

Sensing another opportunity to interview Susan, Dean smiled his very best ‘comforting the bereaved’ smile. “We’d like that very much, Susan. Thank you for offering.” Then, carefully timed almost like an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and what’s the wifi password?”

Upstairs their room was somewhat small but airy. The walls were a crisp, breezy blue, the linens bright white. There was even a gauzy white canopy draped around the four-poster bed. Dean grinned. One bed. Surely that was cause for some optimism about tonight.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster as he grabbed the weapons bag off Cas’ shoulder and deposited it on the duvet. “What about you? Think you’ll need a couple z’s?” ‘Please say yes.’

Cas eyed the bed. Something strange flickered across his face. Something heavy, even sad. Dean immediately felt like a jackass for reminding Cas about his weak Grace. “I mean, who knows how you’ll feel tonight,” Dean added hastily. He started digging through his bag for his laptop. “Get some sea air in your lungs, and you might wake right up.”

Cas pursed his lips. “I suppose so,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. He turned away from Dean and started roaming the room, looking over the artwork on the walls and the little beachy decorations on the furniture. He came to a stop.

“This looks like Susan and Marcy,” he said, letting his fingers trail along the frame of a painting over the dresser.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up from his booting laptop. It was an oil painting like the one downstairs, with a young couple in bright dresses making each other laugh in front of a backdrop of a stormy gray ocean. One was undeniably a much younger Susan. Marcy looked the same as she did in the painting downstairs.

Cas frowned a little and pulled his hand back from the frame. He glanced around the ceiling and only relaxed when he saw an air-conditioning vent gently humming nearby. Dean shrugged it off and turned back to his laptop. He set right to work searching through the local newspaper archives and breaking into the coroner’s office servers. Finding their ghost was only a matter of time.

“Got it. Marcy Daniels. Died forty-three years ago tonight.” Dean flipped his laptop around so Cas could read the news article. “Hit by a car. Right outside this house. Died before she even got to the hospital.”

Cas squinted at the screen. The photo attached to the article looked just like the woman in the paintings. “And you think she’s the ghost?”

Dean shrugged. “Seems as good a guess as any. Violent death. Susan said they were fighting right before. Probably something happened between them that left Marcy pissed off enough to stay in the veil.”

Cas nodded. “We should ask her about it.”

“Nah, she’s not gonna let us grill her about her dead partner like that. We’ll strike up a conversation at dinner. That should give us enough time to figure out what’s keeping Marcy here before she attacks tonight.”

Cas deferred to Dean’s hunting experience. “Well then what should we do until then?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “What do you think we should do? To the beach!”

---

Dean shut the trunk of the Impala and straightened his back, lifting his face to the breeze blowing in from the sea. He breathed in deeply. “God, smell that salt air…” he said with a wistful smile. When he turned to Cas, the angel was looking at him with fondness, warmth making his blue eyes brighter. Dean’s smile grew, and he lifted up his sunglasses to flash Cas a playful wink. Cas quickly ducked his head and started walking.

Dean bit back a groan as he followed behind him with their beach bag. What was he doing wrong? He was trying to be gentle, to give Cas enough space to adjust to the idea that they were together now on his own. After all of the crap they’d been through together, after so many things keeping them apart, he understood why Cas was struggling. Hell, he’d been squashing down his feelings for so long, Cas probably didn’t know how to let himself have this happiness.

At least, that was what Dean kept telling himself. Deep down, though, he was afraid that Cas’ feelings were changing.

“There’s a good spot,” Dean said, jogging up behind Cas and forcing down his depressing thoughts before they could meet up with his self-loathing and really cause problems. He grabbed Cas’ arm and tugged him toward an unoccupied part of the sand. The weather was a little too temperamental this time of year to attract huge crowds, but there were still plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine.

Cas let himself be led, his flip-flops flapping awkwardly over the sand. Dean laughed a little, even though his footing wasn’t much better. When they’d walked far enough away from the boardwalk, Dean unceremoniously dropped their bag and dug out a large blanket to lay out.

“Perfect,” he declared as he tipped up his sunglasses to survey his work. He plopped down on the blanket and shucked off his shirt. A quick glance up let him catch the way Cas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed over. Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Cas, but he didn’t see because he turned around like a friggin’ Victorian lady in order to pull off his own shirt before he sat down in front of Dean, facing the ocean. Dean’s gaze swept down the broad, muscular expanse of Cas’ back, and he could barely contain the heat in his eyes and in his grin.

Only then did Cas glance over his shoulder and catch Dean’s eye. Dean bit his lip suggestively, his grin widening, but Cas’ cheeks turned lightly pink and turned his head away. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Nervous, huh? Well that was alright. Dean could lighten the mood.

He held up the bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, let’s spackle your back.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Dean,” Cas said, not turning around. His voice sounded even more gruff than usual, which was certainly saying something.

“Nonsense!” Dean was already squirting a healthy dollop of sunscreen in his palm. “You can get sunburned, same as the rest of us.”

Cas sighed heavily. His shoulders twitched, tense, but he didn’t protest when Dean slapped his hand at the middle of his back.

Dean set to work rubbing the cream into Cas’ warm skin. “See? This is nice. It’s like a mini-massage.” He made sure to move slowly, almost caressing him. His stomach fluttered with the faintest whisper of excitement. This was the closest thing he’d gotten to action in months, after all. And Cas’ back was nice. Broad and firm and far more muscular than Dean would have guessed. His heart did a little tapdance at knowing that he was allowed to freely ogle now.

“I like seeing you out of the trenchcoat,” Dean said, now using both hands to stroke up and down Cas’ skin. Cas tensed again. “I mean, you look good under all those layers,” Dean said hastily, afraid that the reminder of his waning Grace was too painful. “When did you get so beefy?” Dean slid his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and then down his thick arms. He squeezed them playfully as he shifted closer, letting his knees bump against him.

He leaned in close so he could almost whisper, “Wish I could see it somewhere other than the beach.”

Cas’ back became hard as marble. He lowered his head. “That’s enough, Dean,” he said softly. His voice trembled with some barely contained emotion Dean didn’t understand.

Disappointment rose up Dean’s throat like bile. “Seriously? I’m almost done!”

Cas twisted around, his face pulled into a scowl. His cheeks were flushed. “Dean! I’m an angel! I don’t need this!”

Dean pulled back. “What? I can’t even put sunscreen on you now?” he demanded.

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He only glared, his eyes flickering with something Dean couldn’t quite figure out. Pain? Longing? Regret?

Knowing Dean’s penchant for screwing things up all the time, it was almost certainly the latter.

Cas breathed out a long, frustrated breath and rose to his feet. “I’m...going for a walk,” he said. He folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. What had he done wrong? Why was Cas so mad?

Cas shook his head. “Please, Dean.” With one last glance filled with that strange, heartache-inducing emotion, Cas turned and started walking down the beach alone.

Dean stared after him as he left. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. The sting of rejection quietly throbbed in his chest as he turned his gaze to the ocean. What had he done to piss Cas off? Had he really crossed a boundary, or was something else wrong? Cas had been so weird since he’d been back. Shouldn’t he be happy? Hell, telling Dean he loved him was the happiest Cas had ever been, right? That was part of his deal with The Empty!

Did he regret it? Did he change his mind? Maybe Cas really didn’t want to have Dean. Not for real. Maybe that was why Cas never told him how he felt before. He had to have known Dean loved him long before his deal with The Empty came along. Maybe there was a reason Cas hadn’t said anything about it before.

Maybe Cas knew that Dean would screw things up if they got together. Maybe he was trying to pull away from Dean, make it easier to break things off when it all came crashing down.

Dean stewed in his thoughts, his expression dark as he watched the waves. He lost track of time until a pair of children came racing past him, screaming in delight and startling him out of his thoughts. He pulled at his phone to glance at the time. Cas had been gone over half an hour. Way too long. Dean looked down the beach, almost expecting to see Cas trudging back up the beach back to him, but he didn’t see any sign of him. But Cas couldn’t have left left. Dean had the car keys! Quietly cursing, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Cas’ number.

...And heard a familiar ringtone coming out of their bag.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled as he hung up. He stood up, but he still couldn’t see Cas. Had something happened? What if he’d gone in the water? What if he’d gotten pulled out to sea by a riptide? Despite knowing Cas didn’t even know how to swim, worry dripped ice cold down Dean’s spine, and before he knew it he was walking down the beach along the path Cas had taken.

“Cas!” he called out, but he didn’t see him. Dean started walking faster. He scanned the beach for a familiar dark head of hair and the bright orange swim trunks Dean had picked out for him. “CAS!” He was beginning to fear the worst.

“You lookin’ for someone?” a concerned voice called out. Dean whipped his head around to a small family sitting underneath an umbrella.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my buddy Cas.” Dean jogged over to them. “You see him walk by? Kinda beefy, kinda dorky. Dark hair, orange trunks, about yea high.” He held his palm flat about eye level.

The woman who spoke nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I saw him walking back toward town, though.” She pointed over her shoulder.

Dean furrowed his brow. Did Cas walk back on his own? Irritation flared in his chest as he forced a cordial smile and thanked the woman before jogging back the way he came. He didn’t see any sign of Cas back at their blanket either.

Dean scowled. Maybe he had walked back. Running off without a word was infuriatingly in-character for him. Dean cursed under his breath as he hastily packed up their things and started stomping up the beach toward the car.

What was even such a big deal? If Cas supposedly loved him so much, was rubbing his back that bad? Dean was trying to give him space, he really was, but the way Cas was acting, it was like he didn’t even like Dean, nevermind love him!

The thought clenched tight around Dean’s heart as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe Cas was getting sick of him. Twelve years in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maybe what angels considered love and what humans considered love was just different.

Dark thoughts still swirled in Dean’s head as he returned to the bed and breakfast and marched up the stairs.

“Dude, what the hell?!” Dean charged into their room, anger burning hot as his glare zeroed in on the angel sitting in a chair. “You can’t just go running off like that! You left your phone behind!”

Cas carefully closed the book he was reading. He was fully clothed again. “It’s not a long walk back here. I assumed you’d know where I’d gone.”

“I was worried sick about you! What if you went in the ocean and something happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t swim.”

“You can’t just go stomping off whenever you get mad!”

Cas closed his eyes. “I’m not mad,” he said, though the growl in his voice suggested otherwise.

“Like hell you’re not!” Dean shot back. “So what is it? I can’t touch you now? It’s freakin’ sunscreen, Cas. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Cas’ eyes flew open. “Yes!” he said, deeply pained. “Dean, does it really matter so little to you that you’re okay with just ignoring it?”

Dean was brought up short. “Does what matter?”

“Me!” Cas plastered his hand over his chest. He almost looked like he could cry. “I told you how I felt and you insist on acting like nothing happened!”

Dean blinked. “What? That’s...that’s not true, Cas!”

“Dean! You didn’t say anything! Not once since you brought me back, have you said anything about the fact that I love you! And you may think that by ignoring it and trying to force things back the way they were before that you can lock up that Pandora’s Box again, but you can’t! I can’t. I can’t…”

Dean took a step forward, his expression darkening with confusion. “Cas, what’re you talking about?” He didn’t understand. Why did Cas look so hurt? So heartbroken? Cas loved him. Dean loved Cas. So why wasn’t he happy? What had Dean done wrong? “Cas, I--”

Cold mist curled up from Dean’s mouth.

They both went tense and still as they noticed just how cold the room had gotten. The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

“Shit,” Dean muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the open dufflebag on their bed with all of their weapons.

He made a move for it, but a figure flickered into being in front of him. She was wearing a torn, bloody sundress. Her long, straw-colored hair was plastered to the half of her gaunt face where it was smashed in, blood staining it crimson. The ghost took a step toward Dean. Thick, dark blood dripped from her head but never reached the floor.

“Marcy,” Dean breathed. Guess she didn’t need to wait for nightfall after all.

“Coward,” the ghost menaced as she took another step closer. Dean carefully backed up. “Can’t even say it. Even when you’re hurting him. Coward!”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas, who was edging toward their weapons bag. He tried to make the movement quick, but the ghost noticed. With a vicious growl she flung out her hand and Cas went flying into the far wall.

“Don’t worry,” the ghost said to Cas, and the venom in her voice dropped into twisted sympathy. “I’ll take your pain away soon.”

Cas struggled to his feet as the ghost rounded on Dean again. Her outstretched hand aimed directly at Dean’s head, fingers curled into a wicked claw. But before she could touch him, Cas made another attempt at the duffle. She shrieked in fury and sent it spinning through the air toward the window. A single iron poker tumbled out of the open zipper as it flipped over and smashed against the glass, shattering it. The bag tumbled to the ground below.

Cas lurched for the poker. “Dean!” he called as he tossed it through the air, directly through the ghost. She howled and dissipated into smoke while Dean barely managed to close his fingers around the weapon. Cas and Dean stood back to back as they circled the room, Dean holding the iron poker at the ready.

“Salt,” Dean barked. “We need salt!” Except all of theirs was now two stories below. Dean silently cursed. “The kitchen! Go! I’m right behind you!”

Cas nodded and made for the door. The lights were flickering again. He and Dean narrowly made it into the hallway when their bedroom door slammed shut behind them. They raced for the stairs and nearly collided with Susan.

“Cas, Dean, what’s going on?” Her eyes were panicked, taking in the cut on Cas’ temple and the iron poker in Dean’s grip. Mist followed her words out of her mouth.

“Look out!” Dean reached for Susan, but he was flung backward by an invisible force. Marcy flickered into existence over him again. “Salt, Susan! We need salt!” he cried out before the ghost clamped its cold hand around his throat. Dean scrambled from his poker, but it had fallen just out of reach. His other hand grappled with Marcy’s, trying to pull it away.

He couldn’t see with the ghost pinning him down, but he was pretty sure he heard Susan’s footsteps racing away. Good. Even if she didn’t come back, at least she was somewhere safer. Black dots started to swim in Dean’s vision.

“Hey! Marcy!” A ceramic angel went flying through the air and smashed into a framed photo on the wall next to them, shattering the glass. Marcy snarled and whipped her head around. Her grip on Dean’s neck loosened a little, and Dean sucked in as many painful gasps as he could get.

“This is what you’re about, huh?” Cas goaded. He stood next to an accent table full of figurines, another ceramic angel in his hand, fat load of good that would do against a ghost. “Exacting revenge against shitty lovers?” Dean stretched his arm until his muscles strained. He could barely feel the length of the iron rod brush against his fingertips. If Cas could keep stalling for just a little longer... “I think anger has clouded your judgement.” Cas’ lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “You have no reason to attack Dean. Can’t you tell? He doesn’t love me.”

The statement caught Dean completely off-guard. His hand stilled as he gaped at Cas. “What?” he rasped around the ghostly hand on his throat. Didn’t love him!?

The ghost growled at Cas. She raised her arm as if to psychically toss him toward the stairway, but right at that moment, Susan barreled up the stairs, a blue canister of salt in her hand.

“I have the salt!” she said, and with panic and desperation in her eyes she blindly flung the open canister at Dean and the ghost. Salt flung in a wide arc and rained down on Marcy, who screamed and disappeared instantly.

Dean rolled onto his side, coughing weakly as he grabbed onto the iron poker and clutched it against his chest. Cas ran to him, only stopping to grab the canister of salt. He hastily drew a circle around them, draining the last of the salt on their protection ring. “Susan, get in the circle!” he commanded as he knelt beside Dean.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean choked out between gasps for air. His head was spinning. Cas’ hand on his shoulder helped a lot, but when Dean asked his question Cas quickly yanked it away. “How could you think that?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What’s going on? Why did that...that thing look like my Marcy?!” Susan nearly flung herself into the circle with them. She clutched at her chest, casting her terrified gaze around the room.

“Her ghost,” Cas said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Dean. His brow furrowed. “Dean, you haven’t--”

“Ghost?!” Susan screeched. “Then what the hell are we doing standing here?!”

“Salt repels ghosts,” Cas replied with way more patience than Dean would have had. “She can’t come into the circle.”

“What’s going on?” Susan’s eyes went huge, her face going pale. “She...She killed those people last year, didn’t she? How do we stop her?”

“Usually burn her remains, if anything is left,” Cas said, “but she was cremated, wasn’t she? So something else is tethering her here. Perhaps a locket? Something she cherishes.”

Susan frowned, panicked eyes darting around in front of her as she mulled it over. “Her painting,” she said with a gasp. “The one in your room. She finished it right before our argument! Right before she ran out into the street and was hit by the car. It was precious to her. She put her everything into it, tried to use it to confess her love for me, and I...I was too much of a coward to say it back. That’s why we fought.”

Cas and Dean’s eyes met, and they both nodded. Dean grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, poker still clutched to his chest. “Susan, stay here. Whatever happens, don’t leave the circle. Cas, I’ll keep her busy. You burn the painting.”

As one unit Cas and Dean left the salt circle.

Immediately the hallway burst into chaos. Doors slammed shut everywhere. The knick-knacks and travel guides on the accent table went flying through the air. The lights flickered until their bulbs burst, leaving only the light of the window at the far end to help them see.

They ran.

“You don’t think I love you?” Dean demanded, because a deadly ghost hunt seemed as good a time as any to have this conversation. Some things were too damn important to wait for downtime.

“Because you don’t!” Cas snapped. He threw himself at the shut door of their room, but it was supernaturally sealed. He grunted and tried again. Marcy appeared at his side, a ghostly hand reaching for his chest, a snarl on her lips.

“Cas, of course I love you, you idiot!” Dean swung at Marcy, forcing her to disappear again. Cas slammed himself against the unmoving door. “How could you think I don’t?”

“Dean, I died--” Cas slammed into the door again. His eyes glowed faintly with his weakened Grace. “Telling you how I felt. And you said--” Another crash; the door cracked ominously. “Nothing about it since I’ve been back!”

Marcy flickered into being next to them again. Dean knocked her away with the poker.

“I thought you knew! I thought you didn’t love me and that’s why you never said anything!”

“I told you!” With one final crash, Cas burst through the door and into the room, Dean hot on his heels. They ran for the dresser. “I told you the one thing I wanted, I couldn’t have! That thing was you, Dean!” Cas yanked the painting off the wall and threw it on the ground, shattering its glass and exposing the paper.

Marcy screamed in fury and appeared in front of him. She flung him at the dresser just as Dean dispersed her with a forceful swing. He flipped the poker in his hand, readying himself to strike again while Cas scrambled to his feet, lighter freed from his pocket and held at the ready.

“Because of the Empty!” Dean insisted. Marcy’s form materialized again, and Dean raised his weapon as she approached. “You couldn’t have me because of the deal with the Empty!”

Cas fumbled with the lighter. “I can’t have you because. You. Don’t. Love me!” It finally lit. Cas threw it onto the painting, sending it up in flames.

Marcy howled in agony as her body sparked and burned. She raised her head skyward as if to escape from the rising flames, but in a flash of heat and bright orange light, she was gone, and Cas and Dean were left standing alone in the room.

They stared at each other in the sudden, violent silence. Cas’ face was a mask of frustration and pain.

“Dean, I’ve been back for months. Months. And you have said nothing about how you feel. Do not lie to me now because you feel sorry for me.” With one last heartbroken glare, Cas stomped out of the room, leaving Dean behind to stamp out the flaming remains of the painting.

Once Dean didn’t need to worry about burning the house down, he went looking for Cas. He found him outside, loading up their scattered weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

He looked shattered. His face was crumpled with pain, his eyes dull, deep furrows in his brow. It brought Dean up short. Guilt welled up so intense that Dean almost couldn’t say anything at all. Except, well, that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

“I thought you knew,” Dean called across the distance between them. Cas stopped and turned to look at him. The bitterness in his eyes made Dean’s stomach churn. “I thought you knew,” he said again. He took a step toward Cas. “For years I thought you knew. But, you know, you’re an angel. I thought you didn’t...I thought you couldn’t…” He trailed off. Cas’ forehead was furrowed in confusion, but he was at least listening, so Dean swallowed down his discomfort and barreled forward. “I thought angels couldn’t fall in love. Except...then you died telling me you did. Telling me that the reason you couldn’t even tell me how you felt was because being happy would trigger your deal and…” He shrugged.

“You thought I was deliberately keeping us apart?”

“Because if you told me you felt the same, then we’d be together and you’d be happy and you’d die.”

The bitterness had faded from Cas’ eyes, replaced with something that Dean was loath to acknowledge looked a little bit like pity mixed with profound frustration. “So when I came back, you thought there wasn’t anything left to talk about?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and took another step forward. “Yeah well…What else was there to say? You said you, you know, loved me. And I thought you knew that I, you know…” He trailed off.

“Dean.” Dean had never heard Cas sound so pained just saying his name. “You.” Cas scrubbed at his face. His mouth twitched as he struggled to find words for all the ways Dean had screwed up. Was continuing to screw up.

“The hoops that you jump through to avoid talking about your feelings astound me,” Cas finally said. He dropped his hand with a sigh of defeat, and Dean’s heart sank. This was it. The death rattles of a relationship that hadn’t even really started. Dean never had what he truly wanted, and he never would.

Dean ducked his head, unable to look Cas in the eye. “Right. Yeah. That’s me, alright.” He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. The long drive back to Kansas was going to be awful.

“Say it,” Cas said softly. His words were a command, but when Dean looked up in surprise, his eyes were pleading. “Please,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t deserve to even ask, and something inside Dean cracked.

“I love you, Cas.” One step, two steps, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around Cas’ shoulders, clinging to him the way he wished he could have before the Empty took Cas away. “It’s you, Cas. It can only be you. It’s only been you for years. I promise.”

Cas’ next breath stuttered in his lungs. His arms wound tightly around Dean, desperate. “Dean,” he sighed, this time like a prayer.

“I’m right here, buddy.” Dean held him tightly, the way he should have when he first got Cas back from the Empty. The way Dean wanted to all these months when he thought...Well, when he was an idiot. “You can have me, you know. You already have me.”

Cas pulled back enough to look Dean in the eye. His eyes were glassy. Dean’s didn’t exactly feel dry either. ‘I wonder if I can kiss him,’ Dean thought, milliseconds before Cas did just that.

Cas’ lips were warm against his own, and Dean gasped softly as his hand wound through Cas’ thick hair to cradle the back of his head. His kiss was eager, if not clumsy, and Dean smiled a little as he let Cas take the lead anyway. When they finally pulled apart, Cas’ normally pale lips were flushed pink, and Dean’s soft smile morphed into a huge, affectionate grin.

“Hey,” Dean said, his voice surprisingly husky after a largely innocent kiss.

Cas smiled back. “Hello, Dean,” he said, and Dean couldn’t help it. He laughed. God, how he loved this angel.

“So whadya say, Cas?” Dean said when his laughter quieted. “Ready to get the hell outta Dodge?”

Cas’ hands slid down Dean’s back until they were resting on his hips. “Actually…” His gaze turned wistfully in the direction of the distant beach. “I had a different idea.”

---

“You sure this is okay, Cas?”

“Dean…”

“Cuz I mean, I want to respect your boundaries.”

“Dean!”

“And I totally understand if I’m crossing a line here.”

Cas twisted around and gave Dean and his closed bottle of sunscreen a baleful look. Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “If I get sunburned, you can get your own room tonight.”

“You’re probably not even going to sleep anyway,” Dean shot back.

“I’ll sleep just to spite you.” Cas scowled, but Dean could see the corners of his lips twitching playfully. With a rush of affection, Dean shifted so that Cas’ bare back was pressed against his chest and Dean could rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder. Cas went stiff against his body, but it only lasted a second before he practically melted into Dean’s hold. Dean wrapped his arms around him as he watched the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said with a sigh.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the sea.

Heat rushed to Dean’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and kept his gaze solidly on the ocean. “You’re such a sap,” he grumbled weakly.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dean could see Cas’ smirk in the corner of his eye. Dean tightened his embrace.

“I dunno if I ever will,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his lips as he finally got to hold his angel.

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #userstarry #deanwinchesteradjacent #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #katie writes things #long post

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siriusblacksbxtch · 4 years ago

Note

since you wanted supernatural requests 😳 i really need a destiel x reader smut bc there is a SHORTAGE in the world

A/N: ohhhhh boy did you come to the right place (unedited)

Dirty Thoughts

Pairings: Dean Winchester x you, Castiel x you, Dean Winchester x Castiel

Warnings: nsfw , double penatration , dom/sub undertones , hair pulling , deep throating , face fucking , come play if you squint , I forget anything else but very smutty

Summary: Note to self, don’t think about angels while masturbating

You noticed. Dean was so smug and so sure that you hadn’t noticed his lingering eyes, as well as Cas’, but being a hunter you had learned how to be observant.

For a while you thought you had been imagining it, Dean’s eyes looking you up and down when he thought you weren’t looking, Castiel whispering to his boyfriend with his eyes trained on you.

“Y/n!” Sam snapped in front of your eyes, causing you to jump in your seat as your eyes readjusted on your computer screen. “Find anything?”

“Nope,” you shook your head tiredly. “Freaking vampires are always nesting in some run down building.”

You rubbed at your eyes, feeling a sudden heat come over you. Your eyes fell to the seat across from you, Castiel’s bright eyes staring you down.

“Okay, Cas?”

“Perfect.”

You snorted quietly at the reply, closing your laptop as you exaggerated a yawn. You waved goodnight to Cas and Sam, nodding to Dean who was sipping on his beer.

You could feel a boner coming to life in your jeans, hurrying to your room and dropping your laptop on to your desk.

Unbuttoning your jeans, a sigh fell past your lips as you palmed your bulge, soft gasps falling past your lips as you did so. You lifted your hips up slightly, moving your free hand to your entrance and slowly circling your finger.

“Dean.” A gasp passed your lips as you imagined the Winchester pressing his finger into you, stretching and reaching places you could only imagine.

You worked another finger into your hole, throwing your head back as you felt release building in your stomach.

You couldn’t help but think of Cas, the angel’s cold glare on you, what he would think if you saw you with your fingers stretching yourself open and a hang lazily pumping your dick.

Just as you reached your release, come spilling all over your stomach and your jeans, your door flew open.

You stood, trying to cover the mess you had made as Castiel and Dean stared at you from the doorway.

“What the hell, Cas?” You glared, trying to ignore your face flushing at the situation you had just been caught in.

“You prayed to me,” Cas replied.

“Do I look like I pray?” You asked sarcastically, gesturing for them both to leave.

Cas ignored you, stalking deeper into the room, Dean coming in after him and softly shutting your door.

Without warning, the angel lightly wrapped a hand around your throat, a small grin gracing his lips when he felt you swallow harshly.

“Prayers can be a lot of things, Y/n.” His lips brushed against your ear and you could feel him smirking. “Even thoughts.”

Cas’ hand moved lower under your jeans, squeezing your half hard dick and smearing some of your come on his fingers.

He brought his fingers to your lips, smearing your release on your skin. Cas held your eyes, almost seeming to challenge you to see what you would do.

Your eyes trailed to Dean, now realizing the hunter was in reaching distance, pulling him closer and pressing your lips to his.

Cas let go of your throat, letting Dean pull you closer and rub his hard on into your leg. Muffled moans escaped your lips as Cas pulled down your jeans, spreading your cheeks to see your already stretched hole.

The angel pressed his thumb into you, drawing a whine from you that made Dean chuckle against your lips.

Castiel pushed Dean back on to your bed, placing a hand on your shoulder to push you to your knees in front of the hunter.

His hands were wound tightly in your hair, pulling it harder to make you look up at him while Dean undid his belt.

“Such a whore, wanting an angel’s dick inside of you.”

You moaned at the words, glancing to see Dean giving his dick a few good strokes. The head was a light red, dripping precum.

Castiel stepped closer to Dean, pulling you forward by the hair to take his dick down your throat.

You tried your best not to gag, tears burning your eyes as Cas held you down on Dean’s dick, looking up to see the angel making out with the hunter.

Dean was palming Cas through his pants, the sight making you grow hard once again as you rubbed your thighs together for friction.

The angel suddenly pulled away from Dean, moving the hunter to stand and replacing his own hand with Dean’s.

Dean had a vice grip, twisting so hard it was almost painful as he placed his tip on your lips.

“Open up,” he gave you an obnoxious wink.

You wanted to tell him to fuck off, but before you could he snapped his hips forward, his dick lunging down your throat.

You almost gagged around his dick, falling forward so your nose was in his pubes, Dean relentlessly fucking into your throat.

He wanted to wrap his hand around your throat, feel his cock going in and out as you whimpered and moaned around him.

“Don’t come,” Cas whispered, his voice deeper than usual.

Tears were freely streaming down your face, barely being able to breathe as Dean continued a brutal pace.

Castiel came to Dean’s side, his hand moving toward the hunter’s hole as he whispered in the man’s ear.

Dean grinned at the angel’s words, pulling his dick out of your mouth, a hand still in your hair as he pulled you on to the bed.

“All fours, Princess.”

“Fuck you,” you glared.

Castiel was suddenly behind you, pressing a hand into the back of your neck and shoving your face into the mattress, his free hand slapping your ass hard and making you hiss through your teeth.

Dean moved back in front of you with a teasing smirk, letting a long trail of spit fall from his lips and on to his dick, shoving it back into your mouth soon after.

However, this time he didn’t move, just letting the weight of his dick settle on your tongue.

You gave him a questioning look, to which he merely winked.

Suddenly, two fingers were breaching your entrance, gasping around the hunter’s dick as you pushed back into them.

“He’s such a slut for cock,” Castiel’s voice seemed shocked as he spoke to Dean.

“Sammy and I always had a bet on who he’d spread his legs for first.” Dean trailed his fingers over your lips, puffy and red from being stretched over his dick for so long.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it Y/n?” Cas asked gruffly. “On all fours for me and Dean.”

You moaned in answer, trying desperately to get Cas to reach deeper inside you.

The angel pulled out his fingers, pushing his dick inside of you in one swift motion.

You quickly pulled off of Dean’s dick, a strangled moan leaving you as you felt Cas stretch you even further, a slight burn accompanying his girth.

Even after you had fingered yourself opened, Cas completely filled you, reaching the places inside of you that had you ready to come one again after one thrust.

Dean took your face in his hands, shoving your face back on his dick.

Cas’ hands moved your nipples as he violently snapped his hips into yours, twisting and pulling as your vulgar moans filled the room.

“You like that?” Dean muttered, a hand returning to your (h/c) hair. “Like being our little whore?”

You nodded, as best you could, a whimper coming from you as Cas brushed against your prostate.

Suddenly, Dean pulled from your lips and moved behind you where Cas was.

You leaned forward onto your arms, loud moans continuing to roll off your lips.

This was better than porn, Dean thought. So much freakin’ better than porn.

Cas had caught his boyfriend watching an explicit video, with a boy all too similar to you taking dick. Two dicks to be exact.

While Dean was usually on the bottom of things, the angel figured he’d let Dean top you as well.

You whimpered as Cas slowed to a stop, feeling pressure at your entrance, and slowly but surely another head pushing past your ring of muscle.

“Let us hear you gorgeous,” Dean panted, noticing your right grip on the sheets.

“Fuck me,” you whined as the Winchester seethed into you, both him and Cas making your whole body feel as if it were on fire.

“That is the plan, Y/n.”

Before you could offer Cas a sarcastic reply, the two started moving. You couldn’t hold back your moans, even the slightest bit of movement from either man causing extreme pleasure to take over your body.

“‘M so close,” you panted, moving your hips back to meet their thrusts.

“Dean.” The one word from the angel seemed to be enough for Dean to spill inside of you, a long moan drawing from him as he did so.

“Jesus, Dean!” You tried to muffle your yell, feeling Castiel finish inside you as well.

He pulled you back by your hair, the angel’s scruff scratching against your neck as he bit down.

“Come, now.”

And you did, for the second time that night, spilling all over your bed as you felt the two’s come spilling down your thighs.

Your soft pants filled the room as you fell backward on to Cas’ chest, the angel softly moving you to lay down.

As sleep pulled at your eyes, you could still see Dean’s stupid grin.

“We’ll be here all week.”

#smut #x male reader #x male reader smut #x male smut #dean winchester x male reader #dean winchester x castiel #castiel x male reader

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deancasbigbang · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Completely Mine

Author: markofcain

Artist: starsdahb

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Other - Relationship, Jo/Charlie (minor)

Length: 33380

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: College AU, Crush, Underage drinking, Internalized homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Anal Sex, Top Cas/Bottom Dean Winchester

Posting Date: November 15, 2021

Summary: Emotional but excited about leaving home and moving to college, Dean got enamored by a genius named Castiel on the second day of college. He couldn’t stop thinking about him even though he has known himself to be straight all his life. If coming to terms with his sexuality was hard enough, what makes everything harder was that he had hots for the guy who was already in a relationship and lived on the floor above him. It seems the universe is against Dean because surely there’s no chance that he can actually be with the man he loves or is there?

Excerpt: The fairy lights that were strung around the room gave a warm glow and the blue ball of light gave off just enough brightness to add to the atmosphere. There were around fifteen to twenty people in the room. Some were sitting around the dining table, playing cards, some were standing in groups with beer bottles in their hands, others were lounging on the couch. Before Dean could completely take in the vibe, he heard a voice that shifted the ground below him. "Babe, who do we have here?" Dean followed the sound of the voice and saw Castiel coming towards them with lazy strides. In a mere second, thoughts started buzzing in Dean's brain like a swarm of bees. He didn't know what to hold onto first. His first thought was, What's this guy doing here? His second thought was, What should I do now? Or, more precisely, Where should I hide? But the thought that dominated the rest was how badly he wished to be the "babe" Castiel was referring to. Until Dean could hold onto any of these thoughts and ruminate on them, Castiel stood right in front of him and Dean could do nothing else but stare. Even in the dim light, he could see the beautiful blue irises of his eyes. Just then Damien stepped in front of him and gave Castiel a kiss on the lips. The sudden urge to beat the shit out of him rose in Dean, but he rationalised himself out of it. "This is..uh... Dean. He's living downstairs with Charlie and Jo," Damien replied to Castiel's earlier question. Castiel refocused his attention on Dean, mulling over something before saying, "Interesting." He said the word like he was feeling the taste of wine on his tongue. "We share some classes, don't we?" Dean couldn't figure out why he felt so elated at being recognized. "Yeah... I guess," he replied with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "Hello, Dean. I am Castiel. Welcome to our building and to the party. I am sure you are thrilled to have these girls as your flatmates. I sure have been loving them as my neighbours and now I hope we will be spending a lot of time together too," Castiel said, staring deep into Dean’s eyes in a way that made Dean question the stability of his legs. He attempted to give a nod and smile while his heart was racing. Shit. Shit. Castiel lives here! Castiel is his neighbor!

DCBB 2021 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2021 #fic preview #2021 promo #deancas #destiel

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manic-wentz · 4 years ago

Text

Can I Help You Groom Them

Pairing: Destiel

Warnings: Gay sex, blow job, Dean not getting any, wing!kink, friends to lovers

I couldn't stop watching Cas. I didn't know what it was about him that was making me feel this way, but the concentration on his face was amazing.

"Hey, Cas?" I asked softly.

He looked at me with those huge innocent eyes that he has and I swear I almost moaned. "Yes, Dean?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"I haven't groomed my wings in a few months and I was considering doing it now but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

I thought about that. "It wouldn't make me uncomfortable. I actually want to see them."

He looked astonished. "Would you really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll have to remove some of my clothing. Would that make you uncomfortable, Dean?"

Keep it cool, Winchester. "No, of course not, Cas."

He locks eyes with me, seemingly making sure that I meant that. But of course I did. He was Castiel.

And so our own personal angel, took off his trench coat, tie, and dress shirt, leaving his surprisingly muscular chest. I wasn't really expecting that.

The focused look on his face returned and within seconds a pair of beautiful black wings sprang into existence. I was rendered speechless.

Cas looked concerned. "Are you okay, Dean?"

I mentally shook myself. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm fine. I was just a bit awestruck by them. They're beautiful, Cas." I hesitated. "Uh... can I help you groom them?"

Cas once again looked astonished. "You would really like to help me?"

"Why does that surprise you?"

"I just wasn't expecting you to see them the way you do, I suppose." He looked at me and smiled. "We should go to my room, though." I didn't question this.

When we got in he sat down on his bed, and I clambered up to sit behind him.

"Will you teach what I need to do to groom them?" I asked

His smile returned. "Of course."

He took my hand and lead it to the feathers at the top of one of his wings and let me go just before I touched it.

"Just use your fingers to comb through the feathers and straighten them out."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me because he had already turned back around. I lightly brushed my hand across the top of his right wing, just trying to see if they were as soft as they looked. I barely had a second to comprehend that they were before I heard Cas groan. I immediately became concerned.

"You okay, Cas? Am I hurting you?"

"You are fine, Dean. They're just a little sensitive is all. You may continue if you wish."

And so I began to rake my fingers through them, but it didn't take long for me to notice that Cas was groaning again. At this point I had decided that I would simply trust him to tell me if i was hurting him.

"Dean?"

I stopped. "Yeah, Cas?"

"Your fingers are too dry. There is a gland at the base of each wing that should be secreting oil to help you groom them."

"Okay." I felt around for them and found them, and as he had said, they were definitely leaking. I gathered up some of the oil and began to apply it to his wings, but then he did something I wasn't expecting. He moaned. Loudly. I only paused for a second, then decided that playing it off would be the best move in this situation. I continued applying the oil, and I could tell that something was happening in his head, but I didn't want to stop.

Once I got to the downy feathers at the base, he gave a particularly loud moan and whirled around faster than any mere mortal could. I must have looked shocked, because I saw regret flood his face.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I've just never let anyone else groom them before, and it's giving me these feelings. It doesn't feel the same as whenever I do it."

"Is it bad?" I asked tentatively.

He smiled again. "No, it's not, Dean. It feels really good."

I began my work on the second wing after he had turned back around.

"So, you said it feels good," I started. He nodded his agreement. "Feels good how?"

For a second I thought I had crossed a line because he didn't say anything. Just as I was about to apologize, he spoke.

"Look down, Dean."

I was confused. "Down where?"

In his profile, I saw him blush. "My pants, Dean."

I looked down and saw the obvious strain in his dress pants. I was surprised. I didn't I would ever be able to do anything that would turn on the angel.

"Do you want me to help you with that, Cas?"

He stopped moving for a second. "I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

I almost laughed. "That wouldn't make me uncomfortable, Cas. Just let me finish this wing."

He nodded, and after I had finished to Cas's satisfaction, he turned around to face me. I had about half a second to comprehend this before he roughly pressed his lips to mine. I was surprised for that exact same amount of time before I kissed him back. I slid my tongue across his bottom lip, wordlessly asking for his permission to enter. He granted it. I got the feeling he wasn't very familiar with the idea of gay sex. I flipped him over on his bed so I was on top. I could feel him hardening against me, but I wanted to see just how turned on I could get him, since I had wanted this since I first saw him.

And so, the first thing I did was slide my tongue against his. I felt him groan into the kiss as I began to explore every corner of his mouth with my tongue. But that wasn't all I had planned to get him worked up. Continuing my work in his mouth, I also reached behind him and gave the feather a slight, experimental tug. It seemed to have the desired effect on him, because he pulled back to mewl a bit while he bit my lower lip. I couldn't stop the slight moan that escaped me at the feeling of it.

He started to unbutton my flannel, and I helped him with the last few buttons. I shrugged out of it once we finished unbuttoning it. He didn't even pause to think before he pulled my undershirt over my head. I decided that I rather enjoyed Cas when he let go a bit.

It astonished it me a bit when we fought to get the others pants off first. Finally, Cas used his grace to remove every other article of clothing between us, never breaking the kiss that we had restarted at some point after he had gotten my shirt off. I could feel his hardness against my thigh, and I ran my hand down his chest to grip it in my hand and slowly stroke it. I pulled back to see his face while I did this, and it was a beautiful sight to behold. His head was tilted back against the duvet and I couldn't stop myself from shuffling down to settle my head between his legs.

He looked down at me with a slack jaw, but he threw his head back again when I ran my tongue over his slit. The moan he let out then was borderline pornographic, and he crossed that line when I groaned against him in response to the first one.

I adored the look on his face when I teased him, but I couldn't wait to see it when I made him cum.

And so, I decided that I would. At first. I only took the tip in my mouth. I gave one hard suck and reached around to tangle my fingers in his feathers. He moaned so loud that he practically screamed. I had to pull off for a second so that I could bite his thigh. Once I was sure that I wouldn't bite his dick, I jumped back up to take him in all the way until I could feel him at the back of my throat.

At that point, he was squirming around so much that I had to hold him down by his waist. I kept running my fingers through the softness of his feathers, because I couldn't get enough of the feeling of it, and it seemed like he couldn't either. He wasn't even moaning anymore, he was just gasping a lot, like he was feeling too much and he couldn't catch his breath. Occasionally, he would let out a whine, but that was only if I gave a particularly hard suck.

I could feel his legs shaking, and I knew he was close. There was one more thing I wanted him to do before he got to that point. I pulled off.

His head shot up to look at me.

"What is it, Dean?"

I cracked my best shit-eating grin. "You close, Cas?" Like I didn't already know.

"Yes, Dean," he practically growled at me.

"You wanna cum, Cas?" I purred at him.

He just glared at me.

"Use your words."

He did growl this time.

"Yes, Dean."

I hummed against his inner thigh.

"Beg for it."

His breath hitched in his throat, all of his anger disappearing.

"What?"

My smirk grew deeper. "You heard me. Beg for it."

He let out a little whine. "Please, Dean. Please, finish this."

I chuckled darkly. "Little more, Cas. Come on, I know you can do it.

He let out a louder whine. "Please, Dean." I tugged on some of his feathers, causing him to damn near scream. "Ugh. Please, Dean, PLEASE!" That's more like it, I thought to myself.

"Oh, and, uh, one more thing, Cas."

He whimpered.

"Look at me when you cum." I locked eyes with him to let him know that I was serious. He nodded frantically.

As I went back to where I was, sucking off a desperate sounding Cas, I reached back behind him to begin stroking his feathers again, making his hands shoot to my hair and these sexy, wanton noises to leave his mouth, not even meaning to let me know how close he was. I watched his head drop back against the duvet again, but I had my rules. I untangled one of my hands from his feathers to tap on his stomach to get his eyes back on mine. They seemed more blue than usual, but that was probably because his pupils were practically pinpoints from how close he was. They were glassy, but they could still see me and comprehend everything I was doing, that much I could tell. With his eyes back on me, I returned my hands to his feathers, tugging hard to get him over the edge as fast as I could.

When he came, it was glorious. His eyes widened, his mouth went slack, he barely managed to keep his eyes on me, but he did, he was alternating between panting, whining, and moaning my name. His seed shot down my throat in a total of three bursts, after which he pushed me off of him and let his head fall back as he dealt with the aftershocks. I crawled up to him to kiss his forehead and actually, literally pass out before he was even done, because blow jobs make me exhausted. Can't say I regret it though. I'm glad Cas let me help him groom.

Tag list: @fanddoms4love @draco-slytherin-malfoy @lucifers-golden-bitch-apparently (u don't HAVE to reblog dude.)

#destiel #deancas #destiel smut #deancas smut #deastiel smut #deastiel #spn #supernatural smut #spn smut #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #cas #castiel #cas smut #castiel smut #supernarural

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occult-castiel · 4 years ago

Text

The Same Page

This is my @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @eclypseaf!!! The request was open, but bonus points for Miracle being present. So I wrote some post empty rescue fic!

This one honestly gave me a really hard time and I have no idea why. I hope you like it and have has an awesome christmas!

[Ao3 Link]

The portal spits them out in the dungeon.

Dean stumbles out first, a half step ahead of Cas. Human, malleable, and very much alive with one of the little dude's arms draped over Dean's shoulder.

Cas stumbles forward. Dean shoots an arm out in front of him, places a hand firmly against his chest. He maneuvers his other arms under his trenchcoat, grips his side firm.

His skins almost cool to the touch — much too cold to be safe. Not for a human, especially a brand new one.

And what if he's sick? Or gets sick and can't get better? Without his grace, there's a whole new set of worries. A bad flu that gets worse until he's gone, a hunt going wrong, fucking cancer. Heart disease kills pretty much everyone, doesn't it?

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the gentle thud of Cas' heart against his palm.

The last eight months haven't been easy. Not between the alcohol Sam eventually cut him off from, and the hunts getting sparse, and Jack being terrifying and gone until he wasn't.

Cas lulls his head to the side. His inky heart sticks to his forehead, and his blueberry-sweet eyes are unfocused but still manage to catch Dean's.

It's achingly familiar, and he smiles easy. "Hey there, sunshine."

Cas pinches his brows together as his head swims to stay upright. He slurs through some half-baked, nonsense question about coral reef bleaching, and Dean's so relieved he laughs.

Cas smiles at the sound, dazed and feather-light, but the joy is unmistakable.

It's the best thing Dean's ever seen. Fuck, he missed him. Missed him so much he didn't know what to do with himself.

Cas winces — what little help he was giving Dean in holding him up falls. He makes up the difference quick. Weak fingers curl around Dean's wrist.

"Sorry —"

"S'okay. Gonna —" he swallows hard. Tries to shove away the distinct pin-prick in his tear ducts that always means he needs to man the hell up. "Gonna get you to a bed, okay?"

Cas grunts, a pitiful noise that's mostly air and entirely feeble. "Tired."

"Rest then. It ain't far. I gotcha, buddy."

When he nods, his hair brushes Dean's neck.

It's not well thought out. The lack of work and overload of carbs haven't done Dean's muscles any favors. His joints creak and protest every step, but his room isn't far, and he'd be damned before he let's Cas feel like he has to do anything alone this time.

Miracle hops off the bed the moment the door opens.

Dean lays Cas on top of the bunched up blanket. Once he's down, Dean slowly works the trencoast and suit jacket off, his hands careful as they trail across the thin cotton of his shirt.

Cas shivers, and Dean wrestles to tug the blanket out from under him, Miracle nuzzling the side of his leg the whole time.

She's probably hungry. Or just wants attention. He hasn't exactly been available the last couple weeks, too busy with his nose in piles of research. But it all payed off.

Cas grimaces in his sleep, and it twists the cords in Dean's chest. He reaches his hand out and ghosts his fingers across the sweat-stained hair stuck to his skin, gently pushing it to the side.

He'd said it once, not more than a month ago, in the darkness of his room, Miracle tucked as close as he could get her.

He said he loved me, and I — I didn't say it back. But I do. God I do.

Dean trails his hand from his forehead to the flushed pillow of his cheeks. The other knuckles roughly at his eyes and comes back wet.

He has no god damn idea what he wouldve done without Miracle to talk to. Cause he could never get it out to Sam. Not those last moments. Not what Cas really means to him. Always too close to an edge of something larger than any apocalypse they've ever dealt with.

He traces down low enough to brush across Cas' wrist, the pained look still on his face.

Dean swallows, his heart hammers hard in his throat. Timid even though the guy is unconscious, Dean grabs his hand.

His mind blanks. Turns to complete static — a jumble of half-formed thoughts about every reason he ever told himself not to.

He's an angel. The worlds ending. Always ending. He doesn't feel that way. Can't, the equipment for it's not there. It's why he leaves, isn't it? And what the fuck could ever hope to start when it's all always falling apart? When they could fall apart.

Everyone leaves.

A flash of cold prickles down his back, and he tries to takes a deep breath. It goes down ragged. There was something he read once, about picking out a sense.

Cas' breath, slow and steady. The clink of Mircale's claws on the floor. A muted buzz from the florescent lights in the hall.

He breaths again, a little easier. His fingers curls into Cas' palm, and his finger twitch against Dean in response. The dent in his brows relax, his jaw goes slack.

"S'okay Cas." He squeezes. "Just... be okay."

When his phone rings, dumped and forgotten on the other side of the room, he isn't quite sure how to let go. Like the ligaments in his hand have cemented in place, forgotten the muscle memory to make the movements happen.

When the second call comes through, Cas mumbles something. Dean's shoulder slack, and he pulls his hands back, clammy and with a slight tremor.

It's Sam. There's a small tug of guilt — he should've called him the moment he put Cas down. He knows he would've been worried sick if Sam was the one that had to go.

Sam's relieved too, promises to buy stuff for dinner on his way back from where Dean went in the Empty about fifty miles out. And he must hear something in his voice, because he stresses to go watch a movie or something and let Cas sleep it off.

Of course he's right. They knew Cas would be out cold. But leaving the room is still hard, and he lingers in the doorway until he gets a good look at Miracle's mess of tangled fur.

He hasn't brushed her hair, since that's practically what the fur is, in weeks.

"C'mon girl."

He grabs the brush from the bedside table, casts on last look at Cas, and takes Miracle to the TV room.

She hops on the couch next to him, tail thumping with excitement.

"You wanna get pretty to meet Cas later?"

She nuzzles his hand, sticks her nose against the brush, and a little bit of the stress from today lightens up.

He flips on some netflix show about baking food, and talks to Miracle as he starts in on her snout.

It's ritualistic to touch on whatevers going on with her, at this point.

As her fur smooths, he tells her about the Empty. Its piss-poor lighting, the mind boggling way directions work, how it has this awful burnt-licorice and gasoline stench clung to the nothingness of its everything.

It kinda makes his head hurt.

Almost two full episodes in, he has all her fur neat and tidy, and his little monologue has circled back to Cas. She'd know a lot about him if she could talk.

"It's hard to believe he's really back. And — and maybe it'll be good. We could, I dunno, get you a yard?" He nods, smiles. "Yeah, I bet your spoiled ass would like that. The bunker ain't a place for pets."

Miracle leaps from the couch, and someone clears their throat from the door.

Cas stands in the doorway, hunched in on himself. Dark strands of hair twist up in random directions, and the casual clothes Dean left him fit snugly.

He looks... comfortable. Like he slipped into humanity ages ago, not this afternoon.

"Cas."

He tilts his lips up, tight and sheepish. "I see you have a dog now."

"Yeah. Miracle. She uh — she helped me." He motions vaguely to his head. "Might not be batting a hundred up here if not for her."

Cas glances down at her, and the tense smile softens. "I'm very grateful then."

Almost reverent, he scratches the side of her ear.

Dean shakes his head. Blinks. Two things he never thought he'd see side by side mixed with the insanity of the day make none of this seem real.

Deep breath.

"She can — she can be there for you too," Dean says. "If you need it. Dogs are great listeners. Even the Madonna types like this one."

Cas gives a contemplative hum. "They are both blonde."

He puffs a breath of air. It's easy to forget Cas actually knows what he's talking about now, sometimes. Even if he does still miss the point by a mile.

"It was your turn."

Cas raises an eyebrow.

"To, uh, pick a movie." He motions to the seat next to him. "If you want."

Cas runs his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn't look at Dean. Doesn't say anything either. Just nods, walks over, and sinks into the couch.

It's a respectable distance. Close enough Dean would be able to sense him, far enough away they won't touch.

Miracle curls up on the other side of Cas, head flopped on his lap, right next to his balled up hands.

"Is it over?" His voice is small.

Dean doesn't have to ask. "Chuck isn't aproblem anymore." Cas sighs, slinks down bonelessly into the cushions. "We figured it out, took his powers. Jack's fixing up Heaven with it. Says he's gunna do that, find a way to put Amara back together, and then come home."

"Good. I don't think I'm up to fighting standards." He rolls his head to the side. They're close enough Dean can make out each muscle in his neck when he swallows. "You didn't have to save me, Dean. I'd — made peace with that fate."

It's bullshit. It's bullshit and Cas has to know it. He almost tells him a much, but if he can't have that talk now, then he never will.

He licks his lips. It doesn't help the dryness.

"Did you mean it?"

It's a dumb question, but one he needs answered.

Cas doesn't miss a beat. "That and more." The serenity in his words is endearing as it is cutting when he adds, "But we don't have to address it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

It's Dean's turn to melt with relief. "Good — that's good."

Cas winces. "I understand if you'd like some space —"

He starts to stand up, and panic seizes Dean's chest like a vice grip. He grabs his wrist and Cas freezes.

"No! God no. Cas, it — it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

He looks confused, before some amount of understanding smoothes out some of the worried lines in his face. His eyes flick down to Dean's mouth for an instant. "How was it supposed to happen, then?"

"I thought, maybe on a hunt? Or — I don't know. Just... " some place I could say it back.

Its not good enough, saying it without saying it. Cas gave a speech. He saved Dean's life, saved the god damn world. All without knowing.

He shakes his head. Starts again. He had enough practice between thoughts he couldn't shove away and late night pet-therapy. "I thought you knew. Hell, I've been scared everyone knows. And if they did, you did too, right?"

"Subtly isn't always my strongest suit."

He laughs, and it's almost on the wrong side of sane. "Don't I know it."

He can do direct.

Slow enough that Cas has time to pull back, he runs his hand up his arm, cradles it against the back of Cas' neck. He leans across the small distance and kisses him.

It's clumsy and unsure, and Cas places a skittish hand on Dean's side like he's not sure what he's allowed to have even now, but their lips mesh together in a way that feels better than anything he can remember.

When they part, he's not sure either one of them are breathing. And he can't look at Cas, not when he says it. Not yet. So he presses their foreheads together, keeps his eyes fully lidded.

"I don't know how you could think you aren't worth saving. You — you're it for me."

"Dean —"

He shakes his head, and the tips of their noses brush. "I love you more than I know what to do with. You know that right?"

Bewildered, Cas says, "I didn't."

"Yean, well. Now you do."

He scoots back in place, flushed firm against the cushion. Their hands tangle together, and their knees are touching, and it's too much and not enough. But mostly not enough. Dean dares a glance over. Cas is staring at their hands, a pleased smile on his face.

And they're on the same page.

"I think you said something about a yard when I walked in?"

Instead of answering he says, "We should retire. I'm too old for this shit."

"Entirely?"

Dean shrugs. "A hunt here and there wouldn't hurt I guess."

"We'll talk about it later." He reaches over him, grabs the remote. "I think you said it was my turn?"

Dean grins, full and toothy. "Yeah, just no more romcoms, dude. I can only take so many."

Cas nods, curt and serious. "Of course."

He does anyway, and it's the best shitty movie Dean's ever seen.

#destiel secret santa #sorry this is being posted so late in the day!!!#my internets broken at the moment so it was very difficult to get it up #and i also couldnt run it through any spelling/grammer checkers #hopefully theres nothing atrociously wrong with it #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic

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saxxxology · 4 years ago

Text

Freedom | oneshot

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader WORD COUNT: 2,446 WARNINGS: spoilers for “Inherit the Earth,” character death, drinking to cope, minor trauma processing, smut, post-sex feels, stress/anxiety NOTE: This fic is set post 15x19 - “Inherit the Earth.” Do not save or repost my work without my consent. This work is 18+ only.

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“So we’re free.”

Sam glances up, casting his eyes over the rim of his beer bottle to where you’re perched on the edge of the counter. Legs slightly parted under the hem of your knee-length nightshirt, back slouched, eyes boring into him like you can see right through his skin and into his soul.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Chuck’s gone, Jack’s… doin’ his thing, I guess. There’s nobody calling the shots for us anymore.”

You hum, tipping back your bottle of vodka to take a long swallow. The clear alcohol burns your throat, and you let out a sigh that turns warm in your chest. “Where’s Dean?”

“Holed up in his room.” Sam swipes his tongue over his teeth. “He hasn’t really been able to process Cas, I figured we could give him a few days.”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly and raise the bottle to your lips again. “Fuckin’ Cas, man.”

“I know.” Sam chuckles. “He was one of the good ones.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ll second that.”

There’s a long silence, interrupted only by the dull clink of glass on metal, the swish of liquid in an almost-empty glass, and a repetitive shuffle of paper as Sam flips absentmindedly through a two-day-old newspaper.

“How are you?” you ask, eager to break the quiet. Sam’s eyes flicker up to you once again, and you shift a little on the counter. “I’m just asking because you haven’t said much since we got back.”

Sam tightens his lips and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, really. I feel numb. Like, I don’t know if it just hasn’t hit yet, but… yeah, I feel numb.” He rolls his shoulders back and downs the rest of his beer in a single swallow.

“Same here.” You sniff, screwing the cap back onto the tall vodka bottle and setting it aside. “I’m so tired of it. Dean said Cas died and I felt nothing.”

“You’re in shock,” Sam excuses, “and we’ve been dealing with so much shit, we can’t process all of it at once. Cas deserves to be… he deserves for us to grieve for him, without thinking about anything else.”

You chew on your lower lip, surveying him as he rubs his forehead with one hand. He’s tense, the relief of having Chuck gone only half-there. All three of you are used to things being too good to be true, only for shit to hit the fan right after you’ve booked a beach vacation or a weekend in Vegas.

But hell, you deserve to take a little bit of this newfound freedom for granted. Besides, it’s been a while since you had the time or energy to get laid. Sam’s hot, you’re needy… one night of not considering fallout from anything might be nice.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

You take a quick breath, leaning back to brace one hand just behind your hip. “If I asked you to fuck me, would you?”

He stiffens, unable to keep his gaze from drifting over to you. He looks beat; tired and lost and just a little scared of the world. For a second you regret asking, thinking he might just say no and get to blame it all on the alcohol.

“I…” he blows air through his lips as pink stains his cheeks. “Are you drunk?”

“Not really.” You speak a little too soon, as your focus begins to drift and you blink twice to clear your vision. “Well, maybe not enough.”

“No, don’t drink any more.” Sam stands up, abandoning his empty bottle on the table as he shuffles over to you. The toes of his boots drag on the polished concrete floor; he’s so cautious about it, like he’s scared to indulge in something other than people prying him for answers or questions. He hates selfishness, and taking this, taking you… it’ll be the ultimate self-indulgence that he may or may not come out of feeling like he deserved it.

“You scared of me?” you tease, tipping your head back as he leans a hip against the side of the counter.

“Never.” He chuckles softly. “You really okay? You want this?”

You lick your lower lip. “Am I ever okay?”

“That’s true.” He sighs heavily, raking his eyes down the column of your neck, over your nipples pressing through the dark blue fabric of your shirt, your stomach, the rise of your thighs, and then right back up to yours…

It’s like he’s a virgin all over again, you think to yourself. He needs a little help getting into it.

You reach for his hand. He lets you take it, guiding his fingers under the hem of your nightshirt. The tips of his fingers are still cold, chilly from his beer, and you shiver a little when he guides them against the inside of your thigh, creeping closer and closer to your core.

He inhales sharply through his nose when his fingers slip against the smooth, warm lips of your pussy. Your thighs part a little more, and you let out a little sigh when he takes the lead, nudging the tip of his index finger down into wet heat.

“Why are you not wearin’ any panties?” he asks.

You arch an eyebrow. “Why are you questioning it?”

He chuckles, bracing his free hand on the metal countertop next to your hip, and slips his fingers a little farther into your folds. You shimmy a little to encourage him, and he lowers his head, the tip of his nose pressing against your cheek to nudge your head back.

He kisses you hungrily, humming against your lips as you reciprocate eagerly. You can taste the beer on his lower lip, and he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth as his fingers explore deeper between your legs. He finds your clit, targeting smooth, gentle rolls over it as your hand wanders over the front of his jeans.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, “please, Sam, I need you.”

He growls, stepping quickly between your thighs. “Not here.”

He scoops you up, striding towards the steps and feeling his way into the hall. You wrap your legs around his waist. The door to his bedroom is open, and you giggle when he kicks it shut, lips still glued to yours. He lowers you to the ground, waiting for you to stand still before running his hands under the fabric of your nightshirt.

“Get this off,” he murmurs, stripping it roughly over your head and tossing it to the floor. He palms your tits, thumbs rubbing over your nipples, and you arch into the sensation, pulling at the buttons of his flannel, popping each metal clasp until he can shrug it off. He cups your face with both hands, pushing his hips closer as you tug at his belt. His jeans fall to the ground with a dull thud, leaving him in just a pair of navy blue boxers.

He pulls back when you slide a hand into the waistband of his boxers, wrapping your fingers around the hard length of his dick. His pelvis jerks into your touch, and you grin up at him, stretching up onto your toes to claim his mouth in a deep, dirty kiss.

“Condom,” he whispers, “in the nightstand—”

“No,” you reply breathlessly, “I’m on the pill.”

Sam smirks, his hands sliding down to grope your ass. “That works, too.”

He kisses you hard, lifting you up just enough to dump you on the bed. He crawls over you eagerly, reaching down to stroke himself, and you whimper when the thick tip drags through your folds.

He sinks inside with a loud sigh, fisting his cock to push deeper as you squirm underneath him. Your knees fall open, giving him as much room as possible, and his hand falls beside your waist to brace when he gets himself deep enough to thrust comfortably.

Your nails dig into his hips on the first deep, desperate grind. He hisses at the sting and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, panting hard as he thrusts into a rhythm that has the frame of his bed shuddering under the force.

He feels like heaven. Thick and hot and hard as his belly slides against yours, skin already dotted with sweat. His hand comes up to cup your face, fingers curling against your hair as his lips dot a line down your throat, over your chest, and then wrap around a swollen nipple. Your head falls back against a pillow, and you plant your toes firmly against the mattress for leverage. He grunts when you push up against him, allowing him to move even deeper inside until he bottoms out.

“Stay right there,” he mutters. He heaves himself up in one smooth motion, eyes locking on your face as he drops his entire weight into his thrusts. The loud slap of flesh on flesh echoes through the room, and you’re unable to stop your gasps and moans when you feel the ache of it. He grabs your wrists when you try and touch him, pinning them down on either side of your head, and you let out a long sigh of his name that earns a feral growl in reply. The roll of his hips changes when you squeeze around him, deep scoops that have your belly clenching.

“Oh my God, don’t stop,” you breathe, “make me cum, baby, please…”

“That’s the fuckin’ plan.” Sam dips his head to kiss you, and you wiggle playfully in his grip, the tease only making his fingers curl tighter. “You need to touch yourself?”

“No.” You catch a breath when he pauses, lips feather light against yours. “Just keep movin’ like that.”

He chuckles, shifting his weight for balance before resuming the same delicious, expert strokes. His eyes drift down your body until they land between your legs, and he groans at the sight of his cock plunging in and out of your cunt, shiny with your slick.

“Yeah, that’s it, honey,” he murmurs, “c’mon and cum for me.”

You push up against his thrusts, mouth falling open as the hot skin above his dick rubs against your clit. You’re almost there, you can feel it brimming in the pit of your belly, and when Sam’s thrusts turn into hard, bestial shoves, you spiral into bliss, convulsing between Sam’s body and the mattress as he fucks you through it. His grip on your wrists loosens, and you wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, dragging him down on top of you. He slows, then stops, lifting his head from the crook of your neck to press a lazy kiss to your cheek.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly, “you didn’t—”

He stops you with a kiss. “I will. C’mere.”

He rolls onto his back, keeping you close with an arm looped around your waist. You situate yourself on top of him, eyes falling closed as your head spins.

“Whoa, there,” he chuckles, “here, baby, put your hands right here.”

“I know how to ride a dick, dummy.” You arch your back, leaning forward far enough to brace your palms over his shoulders, tits just inches away from his kiss-swollen lips. He huffs, fingers splaying out on your hips as you begin to ride him, rolling your hips and bouncing down on his cock. He grunts, mouth opening in a soft O, and you moan when he gives an instinctive little push of his hips, meeting you halfway as you find your own rhythm.

“Fuck,” he moans, craning his neck to lap his tongue against one nipple. You pull back before he can get a real taste, scraping your nails over his chest as you work him harder, faster, until his soft pants and grunts turn into full-fledged moans.

He cums with a strangled groan, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. You keep moving, giggling when he arches and bucks underneath you, breathing high in his throat as he crosses the brink from pleasure to overstimulation. Unable to take any more, he pushes you off with a hoarse laugh, and you collapse beside him, giggling with your lower lip between your teeth.

“Fuck, I needed that,” you sigh, turning your head to gaze at him.

“Me too.” He stretches one arm under your head, allowing you to scoot close into his side and rest your cheek against his chest. His heart is a steady beat, thumping slower and slower as his body calms, and you tip your head back to kiss under his jaw. He smiles, allowing his eyes to flutter closed, and skims his thumb over your shoulder.

You lie together in silence for a long time, calming down with soft kisses and touches. You’re the one to break the silence, running a hand over a small scar on his opposite shoulder.

“I don’t know why we never did this before,” you comment.

“Me either.” Sam kisses you tenderly. “It was good.”

You sigh against his lips, gazing up into his eyes as an ache suddenly builds in your throat. “Cas died.”

He nods slowly, exhaling long and slow through his nose. “Yeah. You wanna talk?”

You shrug. “I guess.”

“Tell you what.” Sam props himself on one elbow, leaning down to nuzzle your shoulder. “How about we take a shower, put something on the TV, we can take our time.”

“Uh… yeah,” you sigh, trying to keep your voice steady. “You go ahead.”

Sam gives you a soft, sad smile. “Don’t take too long, ‘kay?”

“I won’t.” You let your head roll back onto a pillow and close your eyes. “I just… I need to cry for a few minutes and I wanna be alone.”

He clicks his tongue and grazes his fingers over your cheek. “All right. I’ll save some hot water for you.”

“Don’t steal it all.”

“I won’t.” He kisses your cheek. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You sigh deeply. “I know. Go on, I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” He slides out of bed, and you watch him tread slowly to the door and disappear into the hallway. Rolling onto your side, you bury your face against his pillow, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath and holding it.

Your strokes of luck lately have been too good to be true, and there’s a weight in your stomach that usually only means one thing. All the big, heavy-hitting players are gone. It’s just you, Sam, and Dean now, left alone to form your own little path in the world for the first time ever. It’s terrifying.

Shit’s going to hit the fan, and when it does, this time, it’ll be the worst thing to happen to you.

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