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awakenthemusic · 7 months

Text

Inspired

Summary:

Tags: Short fic, ~1,600 words, Destiel, Fluff

For Suptober 2023 Day 3 - Inspired

Under the cut or on Ao3

Dean grit his teeth as the bunker door once again screeched shut behind Cas.

Everything was fine.

Cas was just going… somewhere he wouldn’t say, to do... something he wouldn’t talk about, for several hours while Dean was left at home wondering what the hell was going on… again.

Dean had thought they were doing well. They’d cleared the air after Cas came back, everyone said what they needed to say, and the two of them had been… dating, or whatever you want to call it... ever since.

Then, a couple of months ago, everything had changed.

Well, not everything. He and Cas still shared a bed, Cas was just as affectionate as ever, and they still snuggled up close enough to make Sam roll his eyes during movie nights. But twice a week, every week, Cas walked out the bunker door for hours at a shot, alone, and refused to talk about where he went or what he was doing.

Dean had tried not to let it worry him, he really had.

After all, there was zero chance that Cas was fooling around on him. Dean trusted Cas completely, he just didn’t like being left out of the loop.

Sam was no help at all. When Dean had tried to talk to him about it, Sam had just shrugged and said, “Dude’s got his own life, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

And it was. Of course it was. Cas should feel free to leave whenever he wanted and go into town. Hell, now that he’d got his wings back, he could go pretty much anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye.

Dean tried not to think about that option too often; it made him break out in a cold sweat. He shook his head and started pulling out the ingredients for burgers, absolutely refusing to examine the need to make Cas’ favorite food nearly every time Cas went on one of his mystery jaunts.

Dean stabbed his fingers into the raw beef chuck harder than necessary, viciously tearing into it and working the spices deeper. Just focus on makin’ dinner, He told himself. Cas is always back in time for dinner.

—————

Cas wasn’t back in time for dinner.

Dean sat alone in the library, whiskey tumbler held loosely in one hand and his phone in the other. One, lone text from about 10pm glowed up at him from the screen.

Running late. Don’t wait up.

The words mocked him now, over three hours later, as he sat in the dim light and tried not to feel like an idiot. Everything is fine. Cas is an adult. Better than that, he’s an angel, he can take care of himself. He’ll come home when he damn well wants to…

A few minutes later, the bunker door finally screeched open and the wave of relief that washed over Dean at the sound highlighted exactly how little he’d believed his own bullshit.

Dean stepped into the war room just in time to see Cas sneaking down the stairs, a large wooden box clasped tight in his hands. “Hey, Cas.”

Cas jerked, nearly losing hold of the box, then met Dean’s eyes with a guilty look. “Dean! You um… You waited up, you really didn’t have to do that.”

Cas shuffled awkwardly, moving like he was trying to hide the box, which, considering the thing was at least two feet square and Cas was trapped without cover in the middle of the iron work stairs, would have been comical in any other circumstances.

Dean’s heart sank. First, Cas was staying out later and later; now, he was hiding things? He said, “Look, man, I know you’ve got your…” he gestured vaguely at the box and the door Cas kept walking out of, “Stuff you’ve got going on, and if you don’t want to tell me about where you’re going, or whatever the hell’s in that box you don’t want me to see, that’s fine. Well, it’s not really... it’s whatever, I guess.”

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Dean steamrolled right over him.

“I’m doing my best to give you your ‘space’ or whatever, but if you’re going to be six hours late for dinner, I’m gonna need more than a five-word text message.”

Cas stared blankly at Dean for a long moment before light dawned. “Oh no, that’s not…” He rushed down the stairs and set the box down on the map table. “That’s… I don’t want space, Dean, I just…” He glanced at the box as though arguing with himself about something. “I do not want space,” He said firmly, turning back to Dean.

Dean nodded, some of the tension draining from his aching shoulders at the certainty in Cas’ voice. “Okay, then whatever this is, we can work through it, but you gotta talk to me, man.”

Cas abruptly stilled. Some emotion crinkled up the corners of his eyes and he said softly, “Oh, my love. I had no idea I was worrying you so much.”

Dean squirmed. On the one hand, he loved when Cas called him that, the one word that Dean had struggled to say for so long tripping from Cas’ mouth like Dean was its purest embodiment. On the other hand, an entire lifetime of instincts screamed at him that he was being too demanding, a burden, and he should have hidden his feelings better. He ducked his head, fighting the need to make a joke and pretend nothing was wrong.

Cas, who knew him too damn well, was having none of it. He crooked a finger under Dean’s chin and gently lifted until he could stare straight through Dean’s eyes down to his soul. “Dean,” Cas said, quietly enough that Dean had to lean in a little to make sure he didn’t miss anything Cas said. “I love you more than words can ever express. If I could, I would spend every moment by your side for all eternity. I did not mean to worry you, but I see that I have, and for that I’m sorry.”

Dean fought the urge to hide his face again as his cheeks burned red.

Cas said, “I wanted so badly to make you something special for tomorrow, I didn’t think about how it would appear from your point of view.”

Dean frowned, doing the mental math on the date and coming up dry. It wasn’t his birthday, wasn’t Valentine’s or any other sappy made-up holiday for people who were… it wasn’t Valentine’s. It wasn’t their anniversary… and fuck if Dean wasn’t still getting used to the fact that they had a fucking anniversary. Biting the bullet and ready to admit he was a terrible person for not remembering, he cleared his throat and asked, “What’s tomorrow?”

Now Cas was the one who looked nervous. “Well, it’s not anything really. I just wanted… you said I should find a hobby now that we’re not hunting so much anymore, and I…” Cas turned back around, one hand playing with the clasps holding the lid on the box he’d brought home, cleared his throat, and said, “I made you something for our six-month anniversary.”

Warmth flowed into Dean’s chest, both at the realization that Cas cared enough about their relationship that he was tracking their anniversary by month and at Cas’ clear nerves explaining that he was tracking it that closely. “Six whole months, huh?” A huge grin took over his face and he bumped Cas’ shoulder as he teased, “You big sap.”

Cas relaxed into a matching grin before he said knowingly, “Well, if you don’t want it—”

“Shut up, ‘course I do.” Dean grinned even wider. “You know, Cas, it’s after midnight already so… technically…”

Cas’ smirk didn’t do much to hide his excitement. “Alright, let me just…” Cas glanced around the room with his strategizing face on. “Okay, close your eyes for a minute.”

Dean nodded, scrunching his eyes closed. He listened intently to the sounds of Cas opening the box and pulling out a truly impressive amount of what sounded like crumpled-up newspaper, before something landed on top of the map table with a heavy thunk.

There was a bit more shuffling around, then Cas said, “Alright, open your eyes.”

There, glowing on top of the map table’s bright light stood a blown-glass sculpture. The center of the sculpture was human-shaped, with a cloud of delicate, twisting strands of glass twirling around it like translucent cotton candy. It seemed almost like it was a living, breathing thing as its mesmerizing swirls of colored glass shot through with gold dust caught and reflected the glow from the table.

Dean stared, completely transfixed.

“It’s not perfect,” Cas said, nervously fiddling with the remains of the packing materials. “The color’s not quite right, and I would have liked to get the outer strands thinner, but glass is an imperfect medium—”

Dean cut Cas off with an awed, “It’s beautiful.”

Cas let out a relieved breath and smiled down at the sculpture. “Yes. It’s you.”

Dean stared at Cas, dumbfounded.

Cas continued, “It’s your soul. As I said, it’s not perfect, there’s no way to truly capture the magnificence of your soul in any crude materials of the earthly plane, but, it’s close.” He darted a shy look at Dean. “I wanted you to see how beautiful you are to me, just in case you ever doubt… well, just in case.”

“Shut up,” Dean whispered reflexively, his cheeks so hot you could fry an egg on them, Looney Tunes style. He grabbed Cas, yanking him in for a kiss, mumbling a quick, “Love you,” against Cas’ lips.

#suptober23 #destiel #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #myfics

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deancaskiss · 1 year

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7, 18 or 21 for the kisses? <3

7. I know we're fighting but come here (swoons) and 18. stealing kiss after stealing last slice of pizza

Movie nights really were Dean’s favorite type of date night. Maybe it was the Western movies that he got to share with Cas. Maybe it was the way his legs were tangled with Cas’ and the way Cas’ hands traced patterns over Dean’s thighs or up along his hip. Or maybe it was the pizza on the table and the spilling packets of candy and empty bag of popcorn on the motel table.

It was just… home. Even with them being on the road, traveling anywhere and everywhere just because they wanted to. Cas was home.

With one hand resting on Cas’ knee, Dean reached out to the pizza box blindly without taking his eyes from the TV. But when his hand fumbled around the empty box, he quickly dragged his gaze away from the screen.

What the…?

That couldn’t be right.

Yet, his eyes didn’t deceive him. There was no pizza left. Dean turned his gaze up to Cas, shooting him a look of betrayal. They had a deal.

“You dirty filthy little cheat,” Dean said, shoving at Cas’ shoulder, bumping the angel from his place tucked against Dean’s side.

Cas played innocent, flashing Dean a little pout. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you’re interrupting the movie.”

“You took my last pizza slice,” Dean grumbled, faux-glaring at Cas.

“Are you sure you didn’t eat it already and just forgot?” Cas said.

Dean’s face scrunched up as he made a face at Cas and rolled his eyes. “No. You’re a pizza thief. And now you don’t deserve this,” Dean said, gesturing at their curled up position together as he shifted away and tucked himself into the corner of the couch away from Cas.

That pout was back on Cas’ face, but there was a playful glint in his eyes that had Dean fighting to tamper down the smile tugging at his own lips.

“No cuddles because I ate the last slice of pizza?”

“My. My last slice of pizza,” Dean said, crossing his arms and huffing.

Cas shifted a little closer on the couch, gaze flickering down to Dean’s lips. “What about kisses?”

Dean turned his eyes back to the TV. “You don’t deserve to be kissed, pizza stealer.”

“Stealer, huh?” Cas murmured, closing that final gap between them so he was hovering in Dean’s space. “And what if I steal a kiss right now?” Leaning close, Cas ghosted his lips against Dean’s in just a hint of a kiss before backing away a little with a little smirk on his lips.

“Still mad at you,” Dean muttered, a clearly blatant lie as he snagged Cas by the waist and pulled him close. “Now come back here and kiss me again.”

Cas laughed, happy and soft, as their mouths met again in a slow kiss that stole Dean’s breath away.

Okay, maybe he could forgive Cas for stealing the last slice of pizza, only if Cas kept kissing him like that.

Roadtrip kisses drabbles!

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thebiggerbear · 4 months

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Anael x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: Anael calls you to pick her up after she leaves Cas back at the Emporium. Having just come off of a rough hunt, you're really not that inclined to be at the angel's beck and call.

Pairing: Anael x Female!Reader; Anael x Female!Huntress Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). For Anael's version of this prompt response, I had quite a few ideas that got written but just didn't seem to work out for one reason or another. Eventually, I settled on this and the more I wrote it, the more it felt right to me. So, I hope it's okay.

This is meant to take place right after 14x17.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: mentions of drug-like usage/using behavior; implied sex; mentions of child death

Word Count: 4186

Anael Taglist: @nancymcl; @brightlilith

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Your phone started to buzz on the table and when you glanced at the screen, you let out a snort. You seriously contemplated letting the call go to voicemail but you figured that would be more trouble than it was worth in the end. You swiped up on the screen and held the phone to your ear.

“Yeah,” You greeted.

“It’s me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know. What do you want?”

You heard her scoff on the other end. Good, maybe she was finally getting the message. “Wow, bypassing the small talk and getting right to it, huh? Why, I’m doing well, Y/N, and thanks for asking. I’m so glad I called.”

You wiped your hands on a rag. “Cut the crap, Ana. You and I both know you wouldn’t have called if you didn’t need something. So, what do you need?”

She was silent for a moment and you could just imagine the scowl on her face. “I need a ride,” she sniffed.

“A ride?” You nearly laughed. “Last I checked, you’re an angel. Can’t you, you know, fly wherever you need to?” You knew you were being a bit of an ass but you didn’t care; it was better this way.

“You know I can’t fly.” You could practically hear her eyes roll through the phone. “And even if I could, with everything that’s going on right now, it’s better to keep a low profile.”

“Michael’s gone, Ana. Well, that Michael anyway. You don’t need to worry anymore,” you assured her, a bit of compassion leaking from your tone. You couldn’t help it; you’d seen how unsettled she’d been after Michael, who was wearing Dean Winchester at the time, paid her a visit. She’d almost looked scared and as she told you all too often, angels didn’t get scared. It had taken some coaxing (not as much as you expected though) but you managed to finally get her to do the right thing and call Sam Winchester to give him a heads up about his brother’s location as well as Michael’s plan. That was the thing about the angel you were currently on the line with. She talked a big game and pretended she didn’t care, she appeared to only be interested in money, couture, and having the table tilted towards her. However, you knew differently.

For instance, when she counted money, yes she was committing the amount to mind, but she also did it as a nervous tic (which was weird for an angel to have). While as a super-strong celestial being she could brazenly count her money anywhere in front of anyone and never worry, she never did it in front of the people she was helping. “Bad for business.” That’s what she’d told you when you first asked but you noticed that she counted the same bills that she had counted an hour beforehand and the amount hadn’t changed. There was something comforting to her about having the cash in hand, whether because she had been smart and made it on her own, or it gave her a sense of freedom from the existence she had known previously as well as instilling a feeling of value within her. Before she’d been a button pusher and punished for asking questions; now she was a self-made businesswoman and her own boss, answering to no one.

She also appeared to be vain and completely full of herself, thanks to her vessel’s beautiful looks and how she presented herself through the actual Jo. Though through your association together, when she believed you and the others weren’t looking, you caught her healing a hurt child or a sick old woman without asking for any form of payment. You’d gotten to know her and you believed there was a good side to her, when she wasn’t being self-serving that is. But then again what did you know about celestial beings?

Which is what had you straightening up and clearing your throat quietly, removing all softness from your voice. “So you can get someone else to pick you up, hell take an Uber for all I care, but I’m in the middle of something and I can’t just drop everything to come get you whenever the hell you decide to call.”

Silence.

You tossed the rag you had been using onto the workbench. You had been changing the oil on your car, having just arrived back from a particularly brutal case the night before. Maintaining the classic car you drove, keeping to routine, that was your own source of comfort. You waited for her to respond to you, most likely some snippy yet witty reply. Most other hunters might not be willing to risk pissing off an angel, but Ana was no ordinary angel and you weren’t any other hunter. You two might not have the bond Dean Winchester had with Castiel, but you and Ana seemed to share an understanding. Well, most of the time.

“How bad?”

“What?”

“How bad?” She repeated. “The case. How bad was it?”

You hung your head, pressing your lips into a thin line. She definitely knew you more than you gave her credit for. “Pretty bad,” you mumbled.

“Your crew?”

You let out a breath. “Still all accounted for. Though they’ll be taking a well-earned short vacation for the time being.” The truth was you all needed a breather after that.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Come pick me up,” she urged, not sounding so demanding this time. “I’m not that far from you.”

This wasn’t a good idea. “Ana, I don’t—”

“Come see me,” she coaxed softly. “You need me, I can tell.”

Your reflex was to automatically protest her words. “I don’t need—” But then you thought about how you hadn’t slept a wink since what happened and how you’d had to consistently bury yourself into something to occupy your mind, trying not to think of the sound of the kids’ screams or how they’d looked after. You also thought about how you were running on fumes, hanging by a thread, and you were struggling really hard to put this one behind you.

“You do,” she insisted, almost as if she heard your thoughts.

You thought it over for a moment. You really could go for a drive, to try to clear your head if for nothing else. But at the same time, you wanted your space and company was the last thing you wanted, especially hers. She had a way of seeing right through you; you supposed it was her being an angel and all. But right now all you wanted to do was curl into yourself and retreat from the world until things in your head made sense again (because the world never would).

“Y/N,” she tried again, her tone still gentle yet also letting you know she wasn’t going to let this go. The more you resisted, the more she was going to push. Even if she did indeed have to get a ride from someone else. You could almost guarantee, somehow, someway, she’d be on your doorstep before the night’s end.

Fuck it. You sighed and moved over to the sink to wash your hands. “What’s the address?”

You watched as Ana approached the old pick-up you’d chosen to drive instead of your car, opting to stay lowkey, and she got in. Her brown eyes were intent on you from the moment she settled into her seat. You knew she could see just how broken you were after last night, how you were barely hanging on, and you hated it.

“Find us a place,” she commanded.

You shot her a look. “Ana…”

“Find one.” Her tone brooked no argument.

You flashed a glare over at her but shifted the truck into gear regardless and did as she said. You knew she wouldn’t let up until you did.

You coasted to a stop and put the truck into park before turning it off. You had found an inconspicuous spot at what looked to be a park for bike riders, power walkers, and wanderers alike. There appeared to be a pond in the middle and ducks were floating along the glassy surface that was studded with flowers and lilypads. The wind rustled through the trees and the sun was just starting to sink down behind the mountains, painting the sky in hues of pink, purple, yellow, and orange — a marriage of shades of color that Man had not been able to replicate entirely, leaving Nature as the sole artist to achieve that palette. It was beautiful and all you could think about was how the family you’d tried to save would never get to see a sky like this ever again (or any sky for that matter). It poured salt into the wound when you spied two young children running around, laughing, as their mother playfully chased after them, smiling wide. You hoped they would stay as happy as they were in this moment and that they would never know the horrors that you knew all too well, that they would never know what existed in the shadows of this world around them, just waiting to gobble them up and snuff them out.

“You’re not injured,” Ana determined, her penetrative gaze still roaming over you. “Not physically at least.”

Your eyes flickered to hers and you gave her a look, but you didn’t say anything before you turned back to the sunset.

You felt her hand begin to cover yours and you moved it quickly away, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Ana…”

“Y/N.” She sounded completely unfazed by your pulling away, so much so that you turned to look at her. She was focused on you, her eyes never moving from yours, as she reached out to you. “Let me help,” she urged.

“Ana, I don’t think—”

She huffed out an impatient breath. “That’s your problem. Stop thinking.” She slid closer to you in the bucket seat and her hands framed your face. “Let me help you,” she murmured before leaning in and placing her lips over yours.

As expected, a warm tingly feeling shot through you from where her lips and hands connected to your skin. It was almost like that warm feeling you get in your gut after taking your first shot of liquor that feels like fanning an ember back into a slow-building flame. Though this particular warmth was now throughout every single inch of your body, touching every single cell of your existence. And it grew and grew until a huge wave of warm and light washed over you. Once it did, your head slowly fell back against the headrest and a bright blue-white haze covered your vision. You could see Ana smiling down at you, from her perch on your lap that she had somehow moved into during the kiss. She looked even more beautiful in this light though you still couldn’t see past the face of Jo to Ana’s true form. That disappointed you a little though you expected it. She had told you some time ago that you would never be able to see it, that it was dangerous to humans if they tried and could even prove fatal. It still didn’t mean you didn’t want to see a glimpse of it though someday. You had no idea why you wanted to see it; you just did.

Ana moved some loose strands of hair out of your face. “There. Feel better?”

“Mmm.” You slowly closed your eyes, enjoying the feelings coursing through you. “Much.” It was true. You felt like you could jump out of the truck and go run a 5K or climb the highest mountain without having to take one single break. You even felt like you could swim the English Channel. It was amazing what a little angelic grace could do to the human body.

“Good.” She laid her hands against your cheeks and forced your gaze up to meet hers. You noticed that she was inches from your lips again. “Now, take me somewhere nice.”

The nicest place ended up being a motel on the edge of town (the best room they had of course, one that the clerk assured Ana was cleaned regularly while he looked clearly annoyed that she had the nerve to ask) where you holed up for the next day or so. It was a blur of moans, tender caresses, and grace injections as you’d come to refer to them. Each time you were about to crash, Ana would take your angel blade and cut a tiny slice on the skin of her neck that immediately glowed bluish-white. You loved it when she did that because you would latch your lips to that spot and consume the little bit of grace you could get before the wound closed, and she would arch her back before prettily moaning into your ear, gently holding the back of your head to that spot.

You weren’t a grace junkie as Ana liked to call you sometimes but you couldn’t deny that when she offered up trace amounts of grace like this, especially when you needed a boost, you absolutely took it. In your line of work, with what you’d see on the daily, how could you not take it when offered? The thin thread you’d been hanging on now felt as if it wouldn’t snap so easily, like it had been fortified in steel or something. But at the same time, you hated yourself for allowing the energy into your system, allowing her to be the one to feed it to you, though you would never take it from any other angel.

One of the rare moments in between injections, Ana was laying next to you, holding herself up by her elbow, her head in her hand as she studied you. You were on your back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Feel like talking about it now?”

You briefly glanced over at her, huffing a laugh, as you folded an arm behind your head. “Is that what this was all about? Getting me to talk about it?”

“You were in pain,” she defended.

Your eyes met hers and you could see the tender concern behind them. It always caught you off guard, the genuine care she seemed to have for you. That certainly hadn’t been the case when you two first met. It seemed like a lifetime ago when you’d held an angel blade to her throat, demanding to know where a certain rogue angel was located. And now, here you were…in this very weird space otherwise known as your working relationship.

You supposed she was right; you had been in pain, in a way. You turned your head to stare back up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at Ana for this part. “It was a Rugaru. It got to a family before we could stop it.” You briefly squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting those images to come back. “It was feeding on the two small kids when we got there. The parents were already gone. The screams, Ana…” You shook your head. “We killed it right there. But, um, it was too late for the kids.” You wiped a stray tear that had made its way down your cheek. “They hadn’t even made it to double digits yet.” You clenched your jaw. “We should have figured it out and gotten there sooner.”

Ana tenderly brushed hair away from your face. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, it is,” you whispered. “Any other hunter would have picked up on what they were dealing with and saved that family.”

“Okay, first off, that’s not true. Second, you were not the only hunter there. And third, who’s to say if other hunters had been in your place that they would have been able to save the family?”

“They would’ve. Had it been the Winchesters, they definitely would’ve.”

Ana gripped your chin and turned you to look at her. “Don’t do this to yourself. The monster killed that family, not you. And you put an end to it so it will never hurt anyone again. You hunters do more for this flawed world in a week than most people do in their lifetimes. You do more than angels or Heaven or God himself even. You put your life on the line every single day to help people you’ve never met before, to keep them safe. You stand in between them and the monsters. You don’t get paid, you hardly get any thanks, you see some of the worst things that most humans will never see, and yet, you still continue to do it.”

“Isn’t that the job? Saving people, hunting things?” You teased.

She frowned down at you. “Don’t do that. Don’t make light of what I’m saying because you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you insisted. “I just…” You threw up a hand, shaking your head.

Her expression softened and she stroked your cheek. “You’re a good person, Y/N, and a good hunter. Don’t ever doubt yourself. You can’t save everyone though you try. By killing that monster, you saved many families. Don’t forget that.”

You pressed your lips together and dropped your gaze. You knew she meant well and she was right, you couldn’t save everyone, but it still was going to take you some time to get past this one. You weren’t the only one feeling that way, either. You weren’t entirely sure if all of the hunters in your group would be coming back, two individuals in particular. They’d been the ones to tend to the kids and hold them as they died while you and the others took down the Rugaru. You couldn’t blame them if they decided to hang it up after this.

Ana gripped your chin a little tighter, making your eyes dart up to her face, and you watched as she studied you, appearing to be contemplating something. Before you could ask what she was thinking, she slowly leaned down and pressed her lips to yours. This time, though, you didn’t feel any grace coursing through your skin.

She pulled away after a few moments and you stared up at her in confusion. Giving you a tender smile, she trailed her finger along your jawline. “I like you, Y/N. You’re one of the better humans I’ve met since I’ve been down here.”

“You like me?” You asked in disbelief.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Um, yeah? I thought you couldn’t stand me most of the time.”

“Not most of the time, just sometimes. I certainly can stomach you more than any other human.”

“Wow. I feel special.”

“You should.” She ran her finger down the bridge of your nose to the tip. “Do you think I go around giving my grace to just anyone?”

“Well, there was Lucifer.”

“That was different,” she snapped.

“You heal a lot of people, which I’m all for by the way.”

She leaned back in. “But they don’t get it directly from the source and they don’t get the perks I give you,” she finished right above your lips before kissing you again. This time, you could feel grace being infused into your skin and running rampant through your system. When she broke away from you, you opened your eyes to find that familiar bluish-white haze covering your vision. It was like seeing in 20/20 vision, only a hundred thousand times better.

Ana ran a finger along your lips and as always, you could feel the touch that much more, sending tingles through your body. Glancing up at her, you started thinking about other touches and how they would feel magnified like this. Then you remembered what some people usually did to feel alive again after seeing death and how fleeting life could be.

Within seconds, you were sitting up and you grabbed her and moved her to your lap, very aware that she had let you do it. You saw her smirking down at you as she framed your face with your hands.

“You know, you say you like me but I’m wondering just how much.”

“Oh really?”

“I think we should find out.” You yanked her closer against you and she shook her head, smirking even wider. You tugged the back of her hair, forcing her to arch her neck and she let out a tiny gasp. You knew it was more for theatrical effect than anything else.

“Don’t forget, this is Mulberry silk,” she warned you. “You get blood on it, I’ll kill you, no matter if I like you.”

You used your free hand to place a finger to her lips. “You’re talking way too much. All I want to hear out of this mouth right now are the pretty sounds you make or you begging me for more.” Normally, unless you were in the bedroom you didn’t talk like this, but you could feel the grace fueling everything deep within you, even your ego.

“I won’t be begging.”

“You will,” you whispered into her ear before nibbling on the lobe. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You grabbed the angel blade and created a tiny slice in her skin, seeing the grace peeking out at you from within. Ana placed her hands on your shoulders but she didn’t resist as you swiped your tongue over the wound. “I hate you,” she finished in a moan.

You huffed out a laugh when you felt her pull you closer, her fingers winding into your hair to hold you to her. “You have a weird way of showing that.” You dropped the angel blade on the floor and moved in for the kill.

You had been right; not only did you get Ana to beg, you felt everything a hundred million times more than you normally would. And she had been right; not only did she like you, the shattered glass littering the room and the car horns blaring outside when you were finished proved just how much.

You licked your lips nervously as you parked the pickup, your body having returned to its normal state less than an hour ago. “Listen,” you started. “That was a one time thing.”

Ana turned a smirk onto you, knowing full well how this little back and forth went between you afterwards. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Yeah, it was.”

She turned in her seat to fully face you, laying a hand on your shoulder. “It wasn’t the last few times it happened and it won’t be the next few times. Not to mention we have another motel we nearly destroyed.” She squeezed your shoulder. “I know you don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you like me, too.”

Your jaw tightened and you glared at her, but kept quiet.

She leaned in and you didn’t stop her when she kissed you, no grace involved this time. “Now, you go enjoy your well-deserved break from hunting. Me? I’ve got some business to take care of.” She inclined her head towards the church you were dropping her off at, the sign welcoming Sister Jo, the faith healer. “I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

You watched as she got out of the truck and turned back to you, resting her hand on the open window ledge. Her smirk was cocky, knowing, but her eyes appeared a little softer when she trained them on you. “Until then, Y/N.” She shot you a wink and then walked away.

You watched as she made her way into the church. You thought over what she said. Yeah, you liked her, but you weren’t about to admit that to her. It didn’t matter if she admitted it to you first. She was still an angel, a fallen angel who lied when it suited her and money was the name of the game for her. At least on the outside. But the Ana you’d gotten to know over the last year, ever since you’d crossed her path in your quest for revenge against one of her fallen brothers who had murdered your hunting partner…she was different and she was who you liked. You just wished…well, that things could be different. That she wasn’t an angel and that you could have met some other way. But no matter what you wished, this was your reality and there was no changing it. Ana was an angel and you were having whatever this was with one. If your old hunting partner could see you now…

You shook that thought out of your head and started the pickup, driving away from the church, headed back to your place. You told yourself for the millionth time that the next time Ana called you, you wouldn’t pick up. But a part of you knew that you would, and this scenario would play out again, as it had many times before. You knew she was right and you hated her for that. The disappointment you felt at yourself knew no bounds.

You switched on the radio, picking a familiar song and choosing to get lost in the music instead of your thoughts. Until then.

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mlobsters · 6 months

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supernatural s11e14 the vessel (w. robert berens)

don't judge, nic. (generally historical fiction is not my jam. the sigh i sighed when the title screen with nazi-occupied france came up... also why i immediately get tired over old timey men of letters stuff)

hold the phone, i know that music intro! it's non, je ne regrette rien by edith piaf - which was used to wonderful effect in inception. spent far, far too long trying to find a clip of it, everything is garbage quality and it's not streaming anywhere i can get it easily

well, i am definitely on board with stabbing nazis, with impunity. (and gee, men of letters related, color me surprised :p)

haha ok but wait

SAM 'Cause I found something. I mean, we need something. Magic. A weapon strong enough to give us a shot against Amara. So, I've been looking outside the lore in history. And I found this, the Vichy Memorandems. They were Nazi communications that puzzle historians to this day. And they speak of a super weapon obtained by the Ahnenerbe, said to be strong enough to win the war.

reminds me of the magicians rhinemann ultra

the magicians s2e2 hotel spa potions

I mean, it was amazing reading about how you used the Rhinemann at Gettysburg to help win the war for the Union. And it was you who slipped it to Rupert Chatwin for the Battle of the Bulge. I mean, you changed history.

the magicians s2e3 divine elimination

The spell that won World War II is called the Rhinemann Ultra? Sounds like a not-so-great beer.

and someone had to power-up with god .... juice (semen) to be able to cast it. anyway. god this is going to take forever.

SAM Well, these memos refer to it as "The Hand of God." I mean, that was sort of a catch all term for several objects he touched on Earth in Biblical times. But they're believed to contain traces of His power. DEAN Yeah, well the Nazis believed a lot of things. SAM Dean, Lucifer's caged. God's MIA, the only beings strong enough to battle Amara are gone. If we're gonna fight her, what better way to arm up than with an actual dose of His power?

just sayin. familiar!

so dean i got a pro-tip here for you. have more than one source of caffeine on-hand at all times. that way even if you're out of power or machine breaks or no grounds or whatever, you can have coffee. personal fan of starbucks doubleshot cans. and it reminded me of the self-heating coffee cans in the neuromancer universe way back when they first came out and i've been drinking them for my first coffee of the day since :p (william gibson writes about coffee a lot.)

answers the incapacitated crowley question i had

distressing. i generally like crowley, even if i don't like what he's getting up to. and having him in this forced pet play torture thing is pushing some really upsetting and unpleasant buttons for me. at least they let us know he's still in there fighting i guess sooner rather than later

DEAN Just in case things go sideways, somebody needs to be left standing to take care of the Darkness. We can't risk us both! And at the moment, I'm the least valuable player! You both know that I can't kill Amara, so the least I could do is get the thing that we need so that you can! SAM So you expect me to sit here and ride pine while you can Cas go play Jules Verne? DEAN Yes! No. I - who?

so he just used a 20,000 leagues under the sea reference but doesn't know who jules verne is? sure, jan. anyway. sure, yes, get dean and lucifer!cas alone on a sub together, sounds great. handwave away sam's confusion about logistics of time travel without wings

SAM (Resigned) Be safe. DEAN When am I not?

ha ha.

oh, sam, i feel you.

LUCIFER Right. We'll double down on what screwed us the first time. You're really bringing your A ideas today. I can't believe I lost it. (sighs) Him. Can't believe I lost Dean.

and now dean is alone there, great. trying to figure out what submarine movie this is reminding me of but all i can figure i've seen enough is the hunt for red october (which is cold war) mashed with some vague memory of enigma machine on a sub thing - maybe from cryptonomicon? (book by neal stephenson which was kind of a mashup of current and historical fiction)

jackles is doing a good job with this and the production quality is nice but i'm emotionally detached and just want it to be over with. lucifer isn't even half assing his castiel cosplay but i guess sam is too distracted with imminent death for dean if they don't fix the problem

SAM Wait a second. I remember Bobby told me when you needed strength to retrieve us from the past, you used him to power up, you touched his soul, right?

LUCIFER That's right, I did that. But that procedure can be fatal. SAM Use my soul. That way maybe you'll have enough power to wield the spell. LUCIFER That isn't necessary. SAM It's worth the risk. Cas, Dean needs our help. I trust you.

ugh. the unknowingly begging for torture from the thing that tortured you for (an unknown but presumably) very long time, yeah. turns my stomach. is this over yet. at least the cat is out of the bag right after.

DEAN So. Cas. SAM Yeah. What do we do? DEAN What else? We hunt Lucifer, trap the bastard, and save Cas. SAM Like I said. Lucifer may be in control now, but Cas may not come back willingly. I mean he chose it. DEAN No. No, not possible.

guess we're not mad about him saying yes to lucifer? all righty.

getting in a lingering beauty shot

and closing with non, je ne regrette rien again

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 11x14 #robert berens #non je ne regrette rien #music #tm spn thoughts #is my tag for the magicians spn parallels or whatever #the magicians #very vaguely

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 2 years

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A Vacation: Dean Winchester x f!Reader (Part 2)

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst?, mentions of sex/sexual themes

Words: 6.6k

Synopsis: Dean takes you to the beach...

I caved and ended up making this long. Oh well, I hope you all enjoy, I'll try to write more Dean fanfics in the future

Part 1

A small sigh left your mouth as you stared at your computer screen. You were back home in the bunker on your bed looking at beach rentals again just to torture yourself.

You had just gotten back from the hunt but the thought of the beach hadn’t left you. In fact, they were more prominent as you remembered how Sam and Dean didn’t seem too fond of the idea.

They were right. There was no time to go on vacation and there was no way you’d be able to pull it off with the few hundred dollars you had. If you really wanted to go, you would have to save up for a few years just to rent the house.

You could just use a motel, but you wanted to splurge since you never got to.

Maybe you’d be able to go one day.

You closed your laptop and left your room. It was best if you didn’t spend all of your time in your room lamenting over it. You were given a small break since no one wanted to go back out hunting so soon, so you decided you would enjoy hanging around the ones you loved.

“Y/n.” Cas greeted from behind you a few feet down the hallway.

“Oh, hey!” You turned around and gave him a smile as you waited for him to walk up beside you. “What’s up?”

“What kind of sunscreen would you get if you were out in the sun for long periods of time?” He wondered with a serious look on his face which made you raise an eyebrow.

That was an odd question but then again Cas was a little odd. Even if he’d been on earth for quite a while now, he still had that angel charm that made him stand out. You wouldn’t have it any other way though. He was your friend and you would never change anything about him.

“It depends on how long you’re going to be out in it but I’d say 100 SPF or 50 SPF.” You explained and he nodded.

“Thank you.” He gave you a quick smile and went to walk past you but you stopped him.

“Why?”

“No particular reason. I think it’s good for one to protect their skin from the sun to limit the risk of getting skin cancer.”

You stared at him with knitted eyebrows but didn’t press him any further. Instead, you watched him walk past you towards the entrance of the bunker with confusion as you tried to think up of the reason why he was interested in sunscreen.

Someone must’ve said something that made him think about it. It was probably Jack. Since the kid hadn’t been around on earth for very long, he still had a lot of questions and something had to have come up for him to tell Cas.

You hoped he hadn’t gotten sunburnt or if he did it wasn’t too bad. Could he even be sunburnt? You weren’t sure but you wanted to find him and ask if he was okay. This would be the first time it’s happened to him and he would most likely need someone to tell him it would be okay.

You searched through the bunker but there was no sign of him anywhere. You weren’t panicked, but you did feel a little sense of urgency to make sure he was at least not freaking out.

Maybe he was in the kitchen.

When you entered the kitchen, Sam and Dean were at the table with lunch in front of them. They were in the middle of talking about something you didn’t catch, but they went quiet when they noticed you.

“Hey, Sam made lunch.” Dean gestured to the plate of food on the counter for you. “If you like rabbit food.”

“I’m telling you, if you keep eating the way you do you’re going to get a heart attack.” Sam argued with a huff.

You chuckled and shook your head. You weren’t particularly hungry but after you figured out where Jack was you wouldn’t mind trying what Sam made. As long as it was edible you didn’t care if it was healthy.

“Thanks. Do you guys know where Jack is?” You asked them and they both raised an eyebrow.

“No-”

“Hi, Y/n.”

Jack stood a few feet from you with a smile. You swore he had grown a few inches since you were gone those few days. He was in a good mood, which was a good sign even if he was regularly like that.

“Hey, kiddo.” You smiled and studied him. You couldn’t see any signs of a sunburn on his face, neck, or hands which meant he most likely didn’t have a burn anywhere else on his body.

“What are you doing?” He wondered curiously as you turned him around to look at the back of his neck.

“Cas was asking me about sunscreen and I was worried that maybe you had gotten a sunburn.”

“I am. If I had gotten sunburnt, it would have gone away quickly anyway.”

You smiled and nodded. You figured that his body would heal it before it became a problem but you had to make sure. The anxiety and guilt for not checking would’ve taken over your entire day and you didn’t want that to happen.

But now you were curious why Cas asked. If Jack wasn’t burnt and you assumed no one else was, then what other reason would he have to ask you about sunscreen.

“Do you know why Cas was asking about it?” You looked at Jack, Sam, and Dean for an answer.

Sam and Dean shook their heads, but internally Dean was panicking.

He had planned a surprise for you. It was going to be simple; he was going to show you a picture of the beach rental he managed to get through his knowledge of credit card fraud and when you asked him why he was showing it to you, he was going to reveal that’s where you all were staying. He’d watch you burst with excitement and become so happy you would smile at him, and maybe even hug him.

He had planned to do that later this evening to give you the entire day tomorrow to pack and get ready.

But he knew now that the surprise was ruined, especially when Jack opened his mouth, and now he was worried things were all going to fall apart.

“Did Dean not tell you about the surprise beach trip?” Jack wondered and tilted his head innocently.

Dean placed a hand over his face and kept his head down. If he could disappear he would to avoid this as he felt his entire upper half burn hot. He didn’t want to look up to see your reaction and it was a good thing he didn’t.

You raised an eyebrow and stared at the older Winchester. You still found the fact that he had been so hung up on the idea on the hunt weird and now Jack was talking about it as if something was actually going to happen.

Why would something after he had made it known it wasn’t possible? Was this a joke? Dean was known to pull jokes like that before and you weren’t sure if that was happening now or not, but you weren’t too happy.

“No, he didn’t.” You crossed your arms with a serious voice.

You hoped it wasn’t a joke. It was just a harmless idea, one that had been spawned because you had been nostalgic and wanted to have a break. If it was however, you wanted Dean to go ahead and say it now before your feelings got hurt more.

“Um, Jack.” Sam cleared his throat. “A surprise is meant to be kept secret from the person you’re surprising.”

“Oh,” Jack’s eyes widened and he looked at you seriously. “Forget what I said, there’s no surprise.”

Your eyebrows knitted together as you looked between all of them. You weren’t about to let this go one any longer, not when all four of them were in on it. Honestly you were a little hurt that Dean would go this far over something like a vacation.

“I get you don’t like the idea of a vacation, but messing with me about it is rude.” Your eyebrows were knitted together as you gave Dean a slight glare.

Dean’s eyes widened and his head shot up. This was going bad quicker and worse than he expected. He knew why you would come to that conclusion, he hadn’t been very open about the idea at first and then asked vague questions about it. But he wasn’t about to let that continue.

He hated when you were mad at him and this was the first time he had done something this big for someone. He didn’t want to screw this up.

“It’s not a joke.” He pulled out his phone and went to the email he got about the beach rental.

He stood up and held out his phone for you to take, his eyes never leaving you. He hated the way his palms were getting sweaty and he really hoped you would take the phone before it slipped from his shaky hands.

You gave him a suspicious look but took the phone. However your eyebrows knitted together and your arms fell to your side as you stared at the email. The longer you did, the more your stomach flipped and your heart raced.

“What is this?” You looked back up at Dean with confusion.

Dean swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. He cleared his throat and gave you his trademark smirk while he scratched the back of his head.

“The beach rental we’re staying at.” He explained and felt his stomach drop when your face dropped. “I found the website you were looking at last night and booked it before we hit the road.”

“Seriously?” You scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, seriously.”

You couldn’t believe it. Dean Winchester rented a beach house because you said something about it. He wasn’t asking those questions to make a joke, he had actually wanted to know what you wanted on a vacation.

The thought of him thinking of you alone made your chest warm and made you feel as if you were floating on cloud nine. But he had actually gone and done something that no one had done for you. He had planned to surprise you with it too.

You could kiss him. You wanted to, but you had to hold yourself back because that would make it awkward and that was something you didn’t want right now. Instead, you grinned and laughed. You pulled Dean into a bone crushing hug that he returned almost immediately.

The relief Dean felt almost made his knees buckle. His shoulders relaxed and he left out a silent sigh as he hugged you back. A smile stretched across his face when you bounced on the balls of your feet.

“I can’t believe it! You actually want to go to the beach?” You pulled back and looked at Dean.

“Yeah.” His heart skipped a beat when you became more excited. “A beer in one hand and toes in the sand doesn’t sound like a bad vacation to me.”

“Dean!”

You pulled him into another hug. This one was quick however because when you pulled away, you were already making a mental list of what needed to be done before you left.

Meal plans needed to be made, you needed to get better close suited for the hot weather. You also needed beach supplies like chairs and all that stuff but how were you going to transport that in the impala? No, that didn’t matter right now because you needed to get it first.

“Wait, when are we going?” You stopped and looked at Dean.

“A few days? We’ll be there for a week.” He said and your eyes widened as your stomach flipped again.

“A week? Dean, how the hell did you afford that?”

He didn’t really want to tell you. It wasn’t like you would be mad at him for the credit card fraud but telling you that made him feel…embarrassed. He didn’t have enough of his own money to get you what you wanted so he had to commit a crime. There was no other way and for the first time he felt a little shitty about it.

Just a bit.

“Actually, don’t tell me, it doesn’t matter.” You cut him off before he said anything but he was grateful. “We need to go shopping, I doubt any of us has a bathing suit.”

“You’re right about that.” Dean chuckled.

He watched as you excitedly urged Sam and Jack out of the kitchen while you raved on about what everyone needed to get. He went to follow after you when it struck him and he felt his body heat up.

You. At the beach. In a bathing suit.

Why that hadn’t even crossed his mind he didn’t know, but now that it was he couldn’t get the image out of his mind. His heart raced when he thought about your body being exposed to the sun without anything covering your skin except the suit. The water would drip off your skin and roll across it in places he wished his hands could touch.

Dean caught himself before he continued any further. As much as he wanted to feel your skin against his, he couldn’t allow himself to act on any of that. He just couldn’t.

Not when you were about to have your moment, your vacation.

He also would have to excuse himself and take care of business before he left to go shopping, which brought along the risk of you getting suspicious because why else would he be in his room for a few minutes longer than normal.

No, he would take care of that later tonight. Right now he wanted to be with you and maybe see what bathing suit you were going to pick out.

This was heaven.

Obviously not literally, but you were damn near close to it because of how relaxed you were and it was only the second day on vacation. You never thought you would’ve been able to hear the sounds of the waves hitting the sand again so the sound brought along extra comfort.

The waves would occasionally touch your skin as you knelt down on the sand. You had a small bag of sand castle making tools by you as you built one alongside Jack, giving him tips every now and then.

Not that he needed them really, he was natural at it. He had already built a castle that rivaled even your best ones in childhood, which wasn’t hard to beat, but he was still good at it.

“Nice job.” You said and he smiled. “You gonna dig a moat?”

“I think I might. It’ll catch the waves.” He began to dig one around his castle with his hands.

You smiled and dusted the sand off your hands. He seemed pretty occupied with playing in the sand which meant you could go off on your own. Not too far of course, since you didn’t want to leave him all alone.

“I’m going to see what the others are doing.” You told him and he nodded. “Don’t go into the ocean without telling one of us.”

“Okay!”

You walked up the beach towards the beach house.

It wasn’t very long before you saw Sam, Dean, and Cas relaxing in the sand a few hundred feet from the ocean. Sam sat under the beach umbrella with a book and Case sat under it while he watched the waves from behind his sunglasses.

Dean sat out in the sun on a chair. He had his head tilted back and his feet buried in the sand with a cold beer in his hand. His eyes were closed behind his sunglasses but he was fully awake as he listened to the waves.

He also felt like he was in heaven. He never thought that he would enjoy the beach this much but he was fully relaxed. This was unlike any vacation he had ever taken before because for the first time, he didn’t think about hunting.

Dean hadn’t thought about a monster in the 48 hours it’s been since you all got there and he was completely fine with that.

You made your way up to them and tried hard not to stare at Dean. You had seen him without his shirt a few times but nothing like this. He wasn’t wearing four different layers of shirts and instead was wearing nothing but swim trunks.

No shirt. Just slightly tanned skin and swim trunks that hung off his hip in a tortuous way that made you think some rather dirty thoughts. The image of what was below the hem of those shorts was plastered all over your mind and you quickly had to push them away as you approached them.

Dean perked up when he heard you. He gave you a smile which you returned as you grabbed a cold drink from the cooler. He was grateful for the sunglasses because they hid how his eyes checked you out when you bent over to pull out a water bottle.

Yeah, you looked really hot in a bathing suit.

“I don’t know why I didn’t suggest this sooner.” You hummed after you took a sip of the drink. “You guys seem right at home.”

“I agree.” Dean nodded and you smiled. “Who knew the sounds of the ocean were this relaxing?”

You chuckled and took another sip of your drink as you looked at the ocean. The waves were pretty calm and the water wasn’t too cold which made for perfect swimming conditions.

You had gone swimming earlier this morning and now you were itching to get back into the water. The only problem was that you had a rule about going into the ocean which was to always have someone go with you. It limited the risk of someone getting hurt or drowning and it was always more fun to be in the waves with someone else anyway.

You could ask Jack to go with you. He loved the water as much as you did, but he was busy playing in the sand and you didn’t want to pull him away from that.

A thought crossed your mind and you glanced at Dean. You hadn’t seen any of the Winchesters get in the water and the one that you could try to convince would be him.

Ever since a few days ago in that motel, you were able to convince him to do a lot of things. He was wearing just swim trunks when he had tried to wear a shirt with it, for one reason or another, when you told him that he would probably get too hot. That was all it took to convince him to go half naked.

“You been in the water yet?” You wondered as you set your bottle down in the sand.

“Uh, not yet.” Dean glanced at the waves and felt a pit form in his stomach.

Dean knew how to swim and he’d argue that he was a pretty damn good one, but the ocean was a lot different than a pool or a lake. There were waves, some that looked a little too big for his comfort, and currents that he couldn’t see.

It was much like his anxiety with flying…well a little more manageable than that but it was similar. He wasn’t sure if he would be okay if he went out into the waves and got carried out.

“Well, I feel like going for a swim? Wanna come?” You offered with a kind smile and Dean mentally cursed to himself.

How was he supposed to say no to that smile? To you?

Before he still had trouble saying no but he at least had some control over his brain when it came to certain things. Now that he knew how head over heels, wrapped around your finger, in love he was with you, all of his willpower to say no had been thrown out the window.

It was a little concerning. You weren’t forcing him, if you were he wouldn’t be having any of it, but the fact that it was you who was asking for things or to do things, he was so ready to do it in a heartbeat.

Love was doing weird things to him.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and took a long sip of his beer to calm his nerves. “I think the ocean is for me.”

You were a little disappointed but that was okay. You wanted him to have fun and if not going into the ocean was how that was going to be achieved then so be it. You could always sit in the surf and dig for shells.

“Okay-”

“Let’s go.” Dean stood up and tossed his glasses on the chair.

Your eyebrows knitted together. That was strange and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. You didn’t have time to say anything as he grabbed your hand to lead you to the water.

Dean didn’t mean to change his mind that quickly but the moment he saw that slight flicker of disappointment in your eyes, he panicked. He wanted this vacation to be perfect since it was your idea and if that meant going into the ocean then he’d get over it.

He might end up liking it if he got past the slight fear of it.

The ocean waves washed over your feet and your hand slipped out of Dean’s. You glanced at him to see that he was looking at the water with a clenched jaw. You gave him a sympathetic smile as he fidgeted with his hands.

“We can hold hands.” You suggested and his eyes widened when he looked at you. “I promise I won’t let go or force you to go very far.”

“I’m not a baby.” He grumbled and scratched the back of neck.

“The ocean is scary, why do you think I asked you to come with me?”

That made his heart swell a little more than it should. He wasn’t really sure why that made him proud but now he felt like he could conquer anything which was definitely not a good thing.

“Alright, show me how it’s done.” He grabbed your hand with a crooked smile that made you laugh.

“Don’t get too cocky, Winchester.” You wrapped your fingers around his hand tightly.

The water felt warm when you both waded out. When the waves would hit, Dean would squeeze your hand to make sure he still had a good hold. He was careful to watch what was in the water and to watch you as you guided him far enough to where the water reached his hips.

You let him get used to the water while you splashed each other occasionally. At some point you had moved up close to Dean, enough to where you both were practically holding each other, as waves hit.

It didn’t take long for Dean to feel comfortable to go further out. He was grateful that you were right there beside him to teach him how to dive through the waves and to keep himself from being pushed under.

He was also grateful that he got to hold your hand after every wave.

He was right. Now that he got over his fear of it, he really did like the ocean. Especially now when he saw you in every wave that hit the beach and knew he would be safe.

Your hand felt right at home in Dean’s. You were honestly surprised that he had reached out to hold hands before you did on your walk on the beach but you definitely weren’t complaining.

This was a lot considering Dean wasn’t really a touchy person. Sure he gave hugs when saying goodbye but holding hands? No, he didn’t really do that…well not until today that is. Something awoke in him when he held your hand earlier today and now all he wanted to was feel your hand in his.

“So, what are we going to do tonight?” You wondered out loud as you looked out at the evening sun.

“You know my answer.” Dean watched the waves before he looked at you with a smirk. “Whatever you want to do.”

“C’mon! This is as much of a vacation for you as it is for me.”

You were flattered that Dean and the others had given you full control of the plans on the vacation, but you felt a little bad about it. The entire idea of having them come along was for them to have fun and there was no way that was really going to be achieved if it was just you calling the shots. You wanted someone else to decide what to do and who better than the one who actually rented the house.

“I’m telling you, I’m fine with whatever you wanna do as long as you're happy.” He chuckled when you gave him a pout.

“Then you choosing what we do tonight will make me happy.” You declared and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t play me like that.”

You laughed. Even if you were both joking around, you really wanted him to choose this time. You were honestly excited to see what he would say. Dean could come up with some pretty fun ideas if he put his brain to it.

“But seriously, come up with something.” You squeezed his hand and gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m down for anything.”

He had been truthful when he said that whatever would make you happy he’d be happy to do it, but he also had a few ideas. Namely, ideas that were a little more romantic than what friends normally did and he hoped you wouldn’t notice that.

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d do if you found out he loved you. Die probably. He didn’t want to think of the possible outcomes. What if you were disgusted by it or became so creeped out that you left? He would never forgive himself if that happened, he couldn’t lose you.

So the only thing he could do was pretend. Pretend that they weren’t romantic dates and that he didn’t love you with his entire being.

Unfortunately he was blind to the fact that you loved him just as much.

You watched as he scratched the back of his neck in thought. He had a lazy smirk on his face and you tilted your head with an affectionate smile. Sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his head since he rarely spoke about what was exactly on his mind.

This time however, you wanted him to.

“How about we check out the pier?” He gave you a sheepish smile but relief washed over him when you grinned.

“Yeah! They probably got some good food there.” You cheered and he grinned back.

“Then let’s go.” He took the lead and held firmly onto your hand.

He hadn’t even thought about the food and he just realized he was hungry. This would be a good plan as long as he kept his cool and didn’t let his feelings get the better of him.

“Jesus this is amazing.” You exclaimed around a mouthful of ice cream.

“Are you eating or having sex over there?” Dean took a bite of your shared ice cream with a smirk as you lightly punched him in the arm.

“Shut up!”

The two of you stood at the end of the pier with a plastic bowl of ice cream. Your voices carried across the air as there weren’t that many other people. The sun had gotten a little lower in the sky and created a golden glow across the surface of the water that reflected the clear sky.

Dean glanced at you as you stuck the spoon in your mouth to eat the ice cream. In this lighting you looked like a goddess. He always knew you were beautiful and he would fight anyone who disagreed, but lately he found himself being awestruck by you. There was just something about you that captivated him and made him have to take a few moments to take it in.

Even when you had a melted spot of ice cream on the corner of your lips you were beautiful and god did he want to kiss you in that spot now.

“I know we only just got here but thank you.” You said softly as you wiped your mouth and gave him a smile. “This…it means a lot to me.”

“It was nothing.” Dean nonchalantly shrugged but on the inside he was having the time of his life.

He had never felt so proud before until now.

“It is though.” You set the ice cream down and leaned on the railing of the pier. “I know it’s not easy for you to take breaks, so I’m really happy that you’re having fun.”

You were being honest. Even if you had wanted him to come along, you worried that maybe he wouldn’t be able to turn off his hunter instincts. It definitely would be stressful if he was looking out for a potential case instead of enjoying himself and you didn’t want that.

You really wanted him to see that there was a lot more to life than just hunting monsters and you hoped this did the job.

Dean scoffed and looked out at the ocean. You were right about your worries of course and he kinda hated that. Being able to relax like this gave him the time to reflect a lot on himself and he had to agree that taking breaks was like pulling teeth for him.

He wasn’t sure why he struggled with that and he wasn’t ready to unpack those problems just yet. But he had you to thank for even considering working on it.

“It was all you really.” He looked at you with affectionate eyes. “Just don’t expect me to be a beach bum because of this.”

“You’ve already got a tan!” You pointed out and he chuckled.

“I’m just adding onto my sex appeal.”

Dean smiled when you laughed. Now would be a good moment to kiss you or to ask you out on a proper date. It was like a scene out of a movie; the two main leads on the pier having a moment and then they fell in love with just one kiss. It would be perfect and he so desperately wanted to make it happen.

But he couldn’t. Not when you finished off the rest of the ice cream and not when you asked him what he wanted to do next.

‘I want to kiss you’. That’s what he wanted to do but his fear had a tight hold on him.

“Just walk on the beach.” His smile was sad but he tried to make it look normal. “We’ll take it slow going back.”

“Sounds good to me.” You tossed the ice cream bowl in the trash and grabbed his hand without asking.

You were making this so hard for him.

But on your end it was going great. Not only was the ice cream the best you ever had, the beach looked breathtaking and you got to spend it with your favorite person. It just proved your point that Dean could come up with good ideas and that he should do it more often.

You were also a little ecstatic that this was starting to feel like a date. You were sure it wasn’t intentional but you were getting romance vibes that were welcomed with open arms.

The atmosphere definitely helped with that as well.

The waves curled around your feet as you both slowly made your way back to the beach rental. A comfortable silence fell over you two as you listened and watched as the tide left.

Your eyes began to scan the sand. You could see pieces of broken shells scattered on top of it but you were searching for whole shells. It was fun to pick shells especially when you planned to find one for each of the boys because then it became a game.

“So tell me,” You began and he raised an amused eyebrow. “What kind of shells do you like?”

“Shells?” His eyebrows knitted together and he looked at the sand with confusion. “I don’t know…I don’t have any.”

“Well you’re in luck, there’s always shells at the beach!”

You broke away from him and stepped over to a patch of broken shells. There were always good ones hidden within the fragments and if there wasn’t one suited for him there, then the sand closer to the waves had to have one. You bent over to look close as you gently sifted through the pieces with your fingers as you beckoned Dean to join you.

Dean came up beside you and mimicked your movements. He watched you carefully and began to search through the shells too. He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for but if you wanted to do this, he didn’t have any complaints.

There were tiny ones and a few good sized ones he could see. A lot of them were plain and looked to be part of a clam, but they held a sort of wonder to them as he picked them up to look at them. The ones that really caught his interest were the small spiral ones that looked like something may have lived inside.

He held one that was intact in the palm of his hand before he showed it to you.

“What about these?” He wondered, as if there was a right or wrong answer, but you smiled.

“The spiral ones are cool.” You stood up straight and scanned the sand near the waves.

Now that you had type in mind, you were on the hunt. Determination fueled your search and nothing was going to stop you.

Dean watched you with curiosity. He continued to hold the shell in his palm as he stood up with his eyes stuck on you as if you were the most interesting thing in the world. He noted how meticulous you were in combing through the sand and scoffed when he realized you didn’t put that much effort into cases sometimes.

He wondered if you would even need their help if you did. At that thought he hoped that you would never be this thorough with cases ever. He didn’t want to go on a case on your own ever again, not after you being gone for months with little contact.

You watched as your footprints and the small holes disappeared with the waves. It was possible you wouldn’t be able to find a shell that was worthy to give to Dean right now but you’d be damned if you didn’t try. You at least wanted to make sure you wouldn't miss any if there were any.

Just as you were about to give up, you saw a piece of white poking out of the sand. With a smile on your face, you dug your fingers in the wet sand and pulled out a good sized shell.

It had brown stripes on it and it was in pretty good shape with only a few chips in it. It was the perfect shell for Dean.

You hid it behind your back as you made your way back towards him. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you approached him and he looked at you with adoring eyes.

Dean knew you found something. He saw you pick it up but it was cute that you were treating it as if it was a surprise.

You were so goddamn cute.

“Mr. Winchester.” You tried to fake being serious but it wasn’t working. “Would you like a present?”

“Present? What’s the occasion?” He smirked as he leaned in close but was careful not to ruin the ‘surprise’.

“No occasion, just that I think you’re wonderful.”

You presented the shell out for him to see and take. Your heart thumped against your chest as you looked from the shell to him. You knew he would take it but it still made you nervous as he stared down at it with wide eyes.

He wasn’t upset, far from it, he was ecstatic. He was on cloud nine just from the fact that you called him wonderful and you were giving him a seashell that you just spent fifteen minutes to find. You made him feel so good, so full of life that he couldn’t take this anymore.

Dean didn’t care about the consequences right now. He needed you to know how much he loved you and if that meant turning you away so be it. He wouldn’t stop loving you if you left.

“Dean?” You looked at him with concern until he cupped your face with his hands.

Was this really about to happen?

“You make me feel a lot of things that I didn’t know I could feel.” He huffed as he looked you in the eyes. “I don’t know how to tell them to you but I need you to know.”

“Then show me.” You whispered as you leaned a little closer.

Dean closed the gap and the world disappeared.

There were a lot of things in his life that didn’t feel right but this was not one of them. Everything about your lips against his, how soft they were, how you kissed him back just as passionately, to the way you sighed.

He felt a weight lift from his chest. All of those stupid thoughts that kept him from doing this earlier meant nothing anymore. You were kissing him back like he was water in a desert.

You were also relieved. You never would’ve thought that the older Winchester would harbor these feelings for you. It just didn’t seem plausible, but as his lips moved against yours and his hands moved to your hips to pull you closer, you understood everything he couldn’t say.

You never expected him to say it out loud, not now anyway. That just wasn’t how Dean was but you knew it. Deep within your heart you knew that he loved you.

Dean Winchester loved you.

The both of you broke apart. You stared into each other’s eyes as you caught your breath before you both broke out into grins like idiots.

“Don’t know what I was worried about.” He chuckled softly as he kept you close.

“You were worried?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a gentle look. “Why?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me and I want you in my life so…”

He trailed off but you understood. You wanted to make sure that he knew you wanted him in your life and that you weren’t going anywhere. You were going to stay with him for as long as you could, just like you already have.

The only thing that was different was now you could do it while being openly in love.

Dean pressed a kiss to your forehead before he kissed you on the lips. He took his time as he gently bit your lip and explored your mouth with his tongue when you let him. His hands roamed down where he squeezed your ass which caused him to smirk when you gasped.

“You know,” He began as he moved his lips to your neck. “There’s something else we can do tonight.”

“Preferably in a place where sand won’t get stuck?” You smirked before you let out a breathless moan when he left marks on your neck.

Dean chuckled and he leaned back to look at you as he felt his heart swell. He definitely had never felt like this right before sex but god was it welcomed. He smirked as he pulled your body against his.

“Good thing we’re sharing a room.”

Tags: @globetrotter28 @spideysimpossiblegirl

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural #dean winchester fluff #dean whinchester #dean winchester imagine

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twofrontteethstillcrooked · 2 years

Text

Suptober 25 Oct.: Flames

Ten seconds later Cas stifled a sigh as Dean hit pause on the movie for the thirty-third time in the last hour and a half.

deancas, established relationship

It was good to be hunkered down for the night, casework postponed until the morning. The cabin they were renting – on the outskirts of a town plagued by what might be crocottas, some other type of soul-eating monster, or average teenagers – creaked in the October wind. A cold draft was winding its way across the floor at irregular intervals. Dean shivered under the throw blanket and Cas wrapped his arms around him a little more tightly.

Ten seconds later Cas stifled a sigh as Dean hit pause on the movie for the thirty-third time in the last hour and a half.

"Here's what I don't understand," Dean said, in the paranoid podcaster tone of voice he often adopted (subconsciously, Cas assumed) when dissecting films he hadn't seen before. "Why is this romantic?" He pointed at the boxy television like it had gained sentience and was to blame for many of the world's woes.

"I am not an expert in these matters," Cas said, "but I'm given to understand that many people, at least in western society, find bubble baths to be romantic."

Dean waved his hand around. "No, no, no, not the bath. Although, that is too many bubbles. A guy'd get lost in there. I'm talking about the candles."

Cas squinted at the frame captured on screen. He wasn't sure what Dean was upset about, although he also didn't know why candles were so ubiquitous in stores almost everywhere they went. It seemed prudent to keep a few on hand for emergencies – certain blood magics, for instance. But Americans' candles often smelled funny, and not in the funny way they used to since tallow had gone out of style. He'd read the label on a heavy, "locally poured" jar candle at the grocery the other day; the scent was described as "having notes of sawdust, sandalwood, and cedar, to invoke the woodsy nostalgia of youthful camp." It smelled exactly like one of those pine tree-shaped car fresheners, which was to say not much like a real pine tree, and cost thirty dollars.

"Lit candles provide light?" Cas finally guessed.

Dean flung out his hand again, all wound up about the issue. "This much light? From this many candles? That room is a death trap: if any one of the three dozen taper candles tipped over anywhere but directly into the bathtub, the whole place would go up in flames. Just turn on a goddamn overhead light, already."

Cas opened his mouth to comment and Dean held up his hand one more time. "And before you go all Sam on me, no, this isn't because our childhood home caught on fire." He shook his head like he and Cas had sincerely been debating the topic. "I just think it's a waste of wax, is all, and unnecessarily dangerous to boot."

"You've convinced me." Cas sat up more straightly and Dean turned to look at him. "I solemnly swear to never fill a room with candles and light them for the purposes of sexual congress."

That seemed to clear out the haze of outrage Dean had worked himself into; he collapsed into laughter for a few seconds. "Okay, fair enough," he was eventually able to say.

His smile faded slowly as his gaze dipped to Cas's mouth. Cas let him look. Outside, the wind whipped around the cabin's corners and whistled low, a warning, or a promise. The television screen and the lamp by the window both flickered.

"What about just one candle instead?" Cas asked, thrilled by the mesmerization he saw in Dean's eyes.

He nosed right at Dean's earlobe; Dean leaned in, making the softest, most involuntary sound.

"One flame would cast a golden glow onto the whole bed." Cas cupped Dean's head in his hands. "Just enough light to undress you by, and then I could put my mouth all over you," he whispered.

Dean stopped him from saying anything else. Cas felt the heat of the kiss spark through him and returned the favor.

They never bothered to finish watching the movie, but they did dig out the unscented travel candle Cas kept in his duffle bag with toiletries and extra socks. That one candle lasted for hours, and so did they.

#suptober22 #deancas #destiel #spn #snippetfic #fic #suptober

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ashtraythief · 1 year

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do you have any big misses when it comes to the show? more when it comes to sam and deans relationship than the plot of the show; because that has a lot of misses when it comes to that. for me, i’m sad sam never knew the voice mail that dean left him in season four was fake. that just really breaks my heart.

There are some I think, but not so much in the beginning.

Omg, the voicemail. Yeah, that was rough. Though they never explicitly say that it wasn't resolved, so I headcanon that at some point they talked about it because everything else is just too sad.

I really personally hated the Amelia storyline. Which is a fairly common occurrence in fandom that both hardcore Sam fans and hardcore Dean fans agree on which really says a lot on its crappiness. For one what it meant for their relationship but also of course that I thought it was super out of character for Sam. Even if he let Dean go just like that which is already insane, how would he abandon Kevin??? Who's helpless and a fucking kid and just… no. And the beginning, the weird filter on the flashbacks could have been a hallucination, a mental breakdown, whatever and it felt like they pivoted? Though I don't know why. And at least the Dean thing would be so easy to explain, just Sam telling Dean he was looking, was running himself ragged, but he had no way of finding out anything about purgatory (which I think is realistic) and then when Sam hit that dog he realized he wasn't getting anywhere and was just destroying himself so he had to quit. And that I think would have been perfectly logical and would have taken 30 seconds of screen time (doesn't resolve the Kevin thing but at least the Dean thing). So I really don't know what the fuck the show runners were thinking. It didn't help that Amelia was supremely unlikable, especially compared to Sam's other hookups.

Another thing that bugged me in later seasons was that Dean kept blaming Sam for the whole soulless thing. Like, Cas was the one who screwed that up and Sam tried to make amends when he was back to normal. And Dean should be smart enough to realize that so I cringed every time that came up.

There's more probably, but I haven't rewatched anything post s7 in a while (except for the occasional Red Meat/Safe House double feature of course) and I'm mostly happy with the early season stuff. Though I have mixed feelings on the Dean ditching the samulet.

#anon ask

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gringolet · 2 years

Note

A month before our story starts, Castiel informed Dean he was going on vacation.

“I’m going on vacation,” he informed. “In Miami. Don’t look for me, I will be drunk.”

“No, you won’t be,” said Dean, paying about a quarter cup’s worth of attention. “You never drink with me.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t drink. And maybe Miami will tell me something about myself.”

“That you hate the heat?”

“I lived in Jerusalem for a time. But you wouldn’t remember.”

“Oh, you’re just being dramatic.”

But Dean wouldn’t remember. And he didn’t remember that Castiel had already filed his PTO request the month earlier (“You don’t need to file PTO to me, I’m not your boss. And you aren’t even going anywhere.” “Yes I am, I’m going to Miami.”). So when Cas turned up gone the morning of October 16th, Dean panicked.

“It’s not like he lives with us,” said Sam. “He’s probably just wandering around somewhere. We’re not angel keepers.”

“We’re not brother keepers,” Dean corrected, smugly. It wasn’t often he out-Bible trivia’ed Sam. “Because we aren’t going to, you know— clobber each other to death with sticks.” When Sam didn’t respond immediately, he frowned. “Right? You’re not going to clobber me to death with a stick, right, Sam?”

“Look, I don’t think you need to worry about Cas.”

“That’s not an answer about the stick bit.”

Sam gave him a long look and then one very brief pat on the shoulder. “You need to get your mind off of this. Let’s go on the road, yeah? I’ve heard New York needs some hunters.”

“City? Eugh.” Sam had always been trying to get them to take trips to NYC together, for inexplicable, out of character, reasons. Dean had always thought this was a thinly veiled trick to get him to sit through a musical production and the concept made him nervous and vaguely threatened. “Alright, one of your gay little Broadway shows. And then look for Cas?”

Sam frowned at his brother. “Dean, how many times do I have to tell you, just because I starred in a high school production of RENT doesn’t mean I’m gay. That was a stage kiss.”

Dean shrugged. “Whatever.”

“And even if I was, that would be an unproductive and unsupportive way to speak to your gay brother. I, personally, would never make fun of a family member for his attraction to men or otherwise.” Sam looked at Dean. “I mean, what would Cas think?”

Dean squinted. “Um. Okay.”

“So New York then?”

This time Dean went for the double combo of squinting and shrugging. “Sure. I hate New York. Sure. I guess.”

So New York it was.

They had been in New York for two days when Sam’s incessant fiddling around on the internet paid off. “I think,” he said, worrying his lower lip in concentration, “that there might be some sort of haunting in a record shop a couple miles from here. Some of the more serious true crime Subreddits are speculating about a serial killer hunting there, but… take a look at this.”

Dean accepted the laptop he was being handed and squinted at the screen. “Four people beaten to death in two months?” he said after a moment’s reading. “Really? Serves them right for buying vinyl, I guess.”

Miasma Records was a dingy basement level shop, with the general smell and air of a dive bar at 11 o’clock in the morning. They seemed to only sell BritPop records and Bob Dylan, with a small collection of buckets labeled things like “funny guys.”, “sex.”, and “things that remind you of the Mountain Goats but we don’t have the Mountain Goats.” Dean didn’t know who the Mountain Goats were. “Funny guys.” was just a handful of stand up comedy albums from the 1950’s, plus one with no cover art that was Sharpied over with a drawing of a cartoon cactus. Dean looked discreetly in the “sex.” bucket, only to find that every single record was Neil Diamond’s ‘Hot August Night’. He held up the first one and made eye contact with the bored-looking teenage clerk.

“Really?” he asked. “Neil Diamond?” The clerk shrugged and went back to scribbling on his arm with a pen.

“Hey, is that Neil Diamond’s ‘Hot August Night?’” said Sam, wandering over and peering over Dean’s shoulder. “I love that guy!”

“Oh, god, Sam.” Dean cringed. “Please tell me you aren’t going to buy this — wait. Cas?”

In the very back of the BritPop section, a trenchcoated figure huddled over a stack of records. His hair was blonde — did Cas bleach his hair? Did angels even need to do that, or could they just snap their fingers and boom, Justin Timberlake circa ‘99. Not that Dean followed Justin Timberlake closely.

“Cas, what are you doing here?”

He didn’t turn around, instead inspecting a Manic Street Preachers album. ‘The Holy Bible’. Of course.

“Hey, I don’t think that’s what you think it is, buddy.”

Cas — no, definitely not Cas — turned around then. “Oh? Enlighten me,” he said, in a pronounced accent. It was something British— Dean didn’t care to differentiate between the types.

“Who the hell are you?”

“You ask that to every stranger you meet in a record store?”

“Just the ones wearing my friend’s coat.”

The man’s eyebrows crept to his hairline. “Wow. Your friend owns this coat? That’s fascinating. Here I was thinking I bought it at Marks and Spencer as a teenager. Why don’t you give me his number so I can get it back to him?”

Dean almost had the instinct to be embarrassed. Of course it wasn’t Cas’ coat. But he wouldn’t be shown up by a bleach blonde Brit in the middle of a trashy vinyl shop. “What are you doing on this side of the pond anyway, London?”

“I’m from Liverpool, mate,” said the man, after a brief pause indicating that Dean had committed some horrible transgression against his dignity. “Unless you want me to be from London.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Sam had made his way to Dean’s side. “I’m sorry about my brother, he’s—” Sam glanced to his side. “Passionate about coats.”

“A man must have some hobbies,” the Brit said generously, and turned back to the Manic Street Preachers.

“We need to solve this case soon, Sammy,” Dean said under his breath, turning away from the Britpop corner. “I don’t think I can tolerate much more vinyl shop customer action.”

“We barely know what’s going on. Let’s scout some info first. Hi!” He looked up at the record clerk and leaned politely on the counter. “Could my partner and I ask you a few questions about your shop here?”

The clerk, who looked like the sort of young man who thought chemistry was a ‘soft science,’ gave them a suspicious look. “Yeah…?"

“When was this store established?”

Blank stare. Blinking. A faint perplexed look. “Uh—”

“Jordon, what’s going on out there?” a voice called from the room behind the clerk. After a moment, a very elderly man hobbled out, squinting at the customers. “Well? What’s going on out here?”

“I was asking this— nice young man— about the history of the store?”

The old man’s face split into a wide grin. “Oh! Well, isn’t that nice of you?” A pause. “I said, isn’t that nice of him, Jordon?”

Jordon rolled his eyes. “So nice.”

The old man eagerly shook Sam’s hand. “Gordon Orgney. What can I answer for you?”

“Hold on,” Dean said, his finger swivelling between the clerk and the owner. “Your names are Gordon and Jordon?”

“He’s my uncle,” said Jordon the clerk miserably. This didn’t explain anything.

Sam cleared his throat with a look of slight annoyance. “I was wondering when the store was established?”

“1969!” said Gordon triumphantly. “I said to myself, Greenwich Village is going by the wayside, yes I did. That’s what I said to myself. I said, soon it’s going to be nothing but hipsters and artistes. Got to preserve something of the original, I said to myself. I said it.”

Sam nodded, while Jordon grew increasingly annoyed.

“Right,” Sam said. “And has there ever been anything strange going on in the building? Any crime? Disappearances?”

Gordon’s expression shifted instantly. “You tell your cop friends that I have nothing to do with all those bodies! It’s just a coincidence. I never even heard of them until the papers came out, and now everyone’s knocking down my door about it. It’s that damn Darnielle…” He trailed off and walked entirely away from the counter, back into his office, and locked the door.

“Well,” said Sam. “That was quite the answer.”

“Don’t mind him,” said Jordon. “He just hates John Darnielle. He thinks he caused all of the world’s problems with his combination Christian/Heretic music and the fact that everyone expects the store to carry his albums.”

“Who’s John Darnielle?”

Jordon’s eyes lit up. “You don’t know the Mountain Goats? Oh man, you’re gonna love this. Hold on, I think I have an extra tape.” He rustled around in the cash register drawer and pulled out a faded cassette tape labeled “Goat tunes.” “Got it! Here, do you have a tape player?”

The Impala had one, so Sam nodded, but Dean narrowed his eyes. “We’re not playing that in Baby.”

Sam elbowed him as he took the tape from Jordon. “Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be a great mix.”

Jordon nodded and then leaned forward. “Between you and me, don’t worry about this place.” He shifted his eyes to somewhere behind them and back. “There’s nothing going on here.”

There was no more they could get with the Brit lurking irritatingly close. They left.

“Dude, have you heard this?” Sam yelled from the Impala in their hotel roof parking lot. Dean was sitting on the hood, attempting to look laid back, but he was sliding very slowly and it didn’t really have the same effect.

“I refuse to listen to this, Sammy.”

“It’s incredible. I mean, he’s the most brilliant lyricist in the 21st century. Have you heard his song cycle about failed love and divorce? It touches your soul.”

“I don’t relate to the concept of divorce,” said Dean. “I’m not a child of divorce.”

“But you could be a parent of divorce,” said Sam. “You never know.”

“What are you talking about, man? I’d never get divorced.” Dean looked offended. “Marriage is about, like, love and everything.”

“Next you’ll say it’s between a man and a woman.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not— are you sure you’re not gay?”

“I don’t have to be gay to support gay marriage, Dean.”

“That’s not what I even— dude, you’re the one that brought it up. I hate when you find weird music. I’m going to get a coke.”

Miasma closed at 9pm on Sundays. Dean thought this was wildly optimistic for how late people would still be coming to a record store that serviced maybe three niches of music listeners total, but it gave them the cloak of night to break in.

“There has to be an easier way to do this,” groused Dean, hanging halfway through a very small window. Below him, Sam let out an exhausted sigh.

“Do you need me to push your legs up?”

“No! No, I don’t.”

With a monumental amount of exertion, Dean managed to haul himself through the window and avoided breaking his neck on the way down. Sam followed with much less fanfare. The inside of the record store was not as dark as they had expected, and for a second both thought that the clerk had simply left the light on. “So, what do you figure we’re looking for, Sammy?”

That was when someone coughed with an incredible amount of sarcasm, and they discovered that the lights were in fact on because the pair of them were not the first trespassers of the night. “Come here often?” said the weird blond man from earlier that day.

“Um.” Dean exchanged looks with Sam. “This is private property.”

“Not yours, though, if I’m correct.” The man cast a look over the store. “Doesn’t seem like your scene. Well, maybe yours.” He gestured to Sam.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Oh, my apologies. John Constantine. You’ve never heard of me, and if you’d like to continue living your lives at an average, not dead rate, it’ll stay that way.”

The Winchester brothers exchanged a look. It was a look that, to them, very clearly communicated the sentence: oh, this man doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. For Sam, this was an expression of earnest concern. For Dean, it was not. “Yeah? I will say, I’m not used to getting called average.”

Constantine quirked a smile. “Okay. What are you then? Or shall I find out later?”

“What?” Dean furrowed his brows at Constantine, then turned to Sam and continued to furrow them. “What does that mean?”

“All in good time. So tell me, why should I be so impressed with you two?”

“The several apocalypses we’ve saved you from, for one.”

Constantine looked bemused. “Right. Anything else? We’ve all been around the apocalypse block a few times, boys.”

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Sam offered. He shoved Dean to the side, who was beginning to fume. “Are you a hunter?”

“I don’t kill animals recreationally, no.”

Crossing his arms, Dean shot Constantine a look that indicated: I know you think you’re so funny, and I disagree. “Right. Well, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that over here in the good old US of A, we’ve got a good hand on any… problems.”

“A good hand, eh?”

“Uh, so, I think we’ve all gotten a bit tense here,” Sam said, turning to look at the door as though someone would enter and defuse the situation. He did not in fact expect anyone to be there, and was thus very startled to find a young man who looked like an off-brand Beatle, but slightly more whimsical. He wore a ragged black coat and an expression like he was looking behind Sam to see if the bus was coming. Sam took a step back to avoid bumping into him. “Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.”

The young man’s eyes drifted over his face without entirely settling anywhere. “Don’t think twice, it’s alright.”

Dean gave an incredulous scoff. “What is this, your sidekick?”

Constantine cocked his head at the same time as the young man met Dean’s eyes and said, “It ain’t me, babe.”

He stiffened. “I don’t know who you’re calling babe, pal, but it better not be me.”

“No, I ain't lookin' to fight with you,” the man said, and opened his mouth to continue, but a voice cut in before he could say anything.

“Don’t listen to him… I am not a fan… I try to ignore him.”

The man who had suddenly appeared in between Constantine and Dean looked a bit like a sailor, or at least what someone who had only ever heard of them from the packaging of Gorton’s fish sticks might describe as a sailor. This effect was mitigated by the fact that he was wearing cargo shorts and no shoes. Dean cursed. “Ghost! Fuck!”

“Don’t speak too soon,” said the moody young man.

“Another Side…” the sailor said, as though it were a normal name, “...shut up...”

“Oh Christ,” said Constantine. “It’s Bob Dylan.”

“Who?” said Sam.

“I don’t need your organization,” said Another Side of Bob Dylan, scornfully and quotatiously.

The sailor sneered at him. “You can do better than that.”

“Right.” Before anyone could say anything else incomprehensible or dramatic, Constantine spread his hands out. The overhead light flickered in accordance with his narrative importance. “If we’re all quite finished being abysmally Woodstock, I think perhaps we ought to have a little chat about this situation.”

Another Side exchanged a patronizing look with the sailor, and then raised an eyebrow at Constantine. “Something is happening here, but you don’t know what it is.”

“Shut the fuck up!” yelled Dean, who hated artists on principle. “Shut up! We’re hunting some kind of murderous ghost, and somehow I doubt that Knockoff Jimi Hendrix or— whoever the fuck you are— would haul off and beat three people to death over the last couple months, yeah?”

“I’m David Crosby…” said the apparent ghost of David Crosby.

“Who?” said Sam again.

Constantine spun around like a cat on the prowl and stalked over to a box labelled ‘drugs,’ flipping through the records before pulling out one marked CROSBY, STILLS, NASH, AND YOUNG. He lifted it up suspiciously. “Are the rest of you in there, then?”

For a second no one responded. Then a very sad British voice said. “Croz doesn’t let us out. I haven’t seen the sun in twenty-five years… I just want to see daylight again.”

Constantine blinked. “I’m just, I’m not going to deal with that.” He put the record back and the voice faded away.

“Is there anyone here that we can talk to, like any normal human being we can speak with?” Dean asked, exasperated.

“Mm… Swift…” said Crosby, pointing to the box that read ‘linda please come back’.

Dean wandered over to it with the rising suspicion that nothing good was going to come of this affair and rifled through. The only record with the name Swift on it was Taylor Swift’s ‘Red.’

(Dean listened to Taylor Swift with a devotion approaching religion. He did not tell this to anyone.)

It took a second for the ghost to apparate. In that time, Sam said, “Hold on, Taylor Swift isn’t dead. Or wasn’t, last time I checked.”

Dean’s heart plummeted. “God. She must have been murdered since we last read the news. That’s— that’s fine, you know, I don’t listen to Taylor Swift at all. So it’s fine.”

This was an inopportune thing to say right as the ghost of Taylor Swift manifested in front of him. Fortunately for Dean, she had eyes only for Another Side of Bob Dylan, and the eyes were very angry ones. “You!” she hissed, one finger flying out to point at him with malice. “All that time in the storage cabinet in the back of the store together when the owner accidentally ordered multiple copies of us… and now you say you won’t talk to me? How can you be so casually cruel? Do I mean nothing to you?”

Another Side held up his hands forlornly and shrugged at her. “It’s all over now, Baby Blue.”

“I’m Red! And as for the rest of you, I won’t say anything if he’s there!” In a poof, she vanished.

“Okay,” Dean said. “Anyone else?”

“Visions of Johanna are now all that remain.” Another Side nodded as if this made perfect sense.

It took them a few minutes to track down what on earth he was talking about, because after that he got into a protracted argument with David Crosby about the best types of drugs to take right before a recording session. How he did this speaking only in lyrics was a mystery, but Crosby seemed to understand and, moreover, disagree vehemently. Finally Sam heaved a relieved sigh and lifted up an album cover. “Do you think this could be it?”

The front of the album was inked with the portrait of a woman in profile, the name “JOAN” stencilled beside her in an art nouveau font. Another Side hummed thoughtfully.

Johanna— Joan— appeared on the stool behind the register, picking absentmindedly on a guitar. She looked up, then scanned the three non-ghosts in the room. “Oh,” she said, looking a bit skeptical. “I don’t suppose you want to interview me about my own contributions to the folk rock genre?”

“Shit! That’s Joan Baez!” Constantine opened his mouth, closed it again, and pointed in awe. “When I spent a year hanging out with hippies, all of them wanted to marry her! Hello, Joan Baez! Do you want a cigarette?”

She gave him a once-over. “From you? No.”

“Oh.” Constantine looked down. He now appeared slightly self conscious and shoved the cigarette back in his coat pocket. “I’m sorry.”

“Anyway,” said Dean, who did not know who Joan Baez was and did not care, “ma’am, would you be inclined to explain why on earth a bunch of famous ghosts are all hanging out in this piece of shit shop?”

“I mean,” she said, exchanging glances with Crosby and Another Side. “We’re folk rock musicians. Where else would we hang out?”

A new voice popped up, light and wistful. “Greenwich Village…” said a just-manifested woman who looked like what would happen if you googled ‘folk singer stock image.’

“Good point, Judy,” Joan said. “There’s always Greenwich Village.”

“Enough about Greenwich Village!” snapped Sam, who had had enough of feeling like he wasn’t artistic enough to keep up with the conversation. He was generally the most hipster person in any given room, and the current situation was unbalancing to him. “Ms. Baez, this may come as a surprise to you, but strange things have been happening in this record shop and the fact that you— a ghost— are here is probably related. Can you tell us anything about that?”

Joan nodded. “Not really.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Well, actually, maybe I can. Can you get my guitar?”

“What?” asked Sam. “That’s not really— you have it?”

“No, I don’t.” The guitar that was previously in Joan’s hands was no longer there. “Are you trying to gaslight me?”

Sam wasn’t. Dean didn’t know what gaslighting was. Constantine didn’t care. “Alright, love,” he said, crossing his arms. “If we get your guitar for you, will you give us some answers about the dead bodies that have been cropping up around here?”

“Maybe so.”

Another Side coughed, breaking the spell of Joan’s intense stare. “My friend(s),” he said, effortlessly pronouncing the punctuation, “you’d better leave.”

Joan held up a peace sign and disappeared. The rest of the musicians followed suit in an instant, leaving Constantine and the Winchesters alone in the record shop.

“Well,” said Constantine. “Shall we?”

“What, all together? Do what?”

“Find Joan Baez’ guitar. Were you not listening?”

Dean scoffed. “I was a bit distracted by the sexy hipster chick! The one with the long hair, not the mysterious ghost.”

For a long second, both of them stared at him. “They were all ghosts, Dean,” said Sam.

“What? Oh, fuck, nevermind, then.”

The three of them placed any records back in their extremely specifically named boxes and made their way back out of the small window onto the street.

A long while after they had gone, a dozen or so hazy figures popped back into existence inside the shop, glancing at each other nervously.

“Not good…” said Crosby, his form flickering slightly from the strain of keeping Stills, Nash, and Young imprisoned in their case. “I think… this is bad…”

Joan Baez heaved out a sigh. “So what do we do?”

“God said to Abraham, kill me a son,” Another Side of Bob Dylan said, with a meaningful look at one particular record hanging on the wall. Its ghost was notably invisible, as he was feeling very embarrassed.

Judy Collins favoured him with a wry smile. “Like Judas of old,” she said. She was always the only one who humoured his determination to only speak in quotes. Everyone else thought it was annoying, which it was, and nonsensical, as he did not even stick to quotes from songs on his own album. “We lie and deceive.”

“Oh… shut up…” jeered David Crosby, and no one wanted to deal with him, so one by one they faded away.

The time was 11:34pm, and the patrons of The Lonely Rabbit Bar, Disco, and Armenian Delicatessen were suffering the presence of three very confused occult detectives. They had decided that drinks were in order after the perplexing interaction they had had, and also that since neither party was inclined to give up the chase, they might as well work together. Constantine flagged down a deli worker and leaned on the glass to chat.

“Augustus, the usual please. And a sample for the two of them.”

Augustus nodded and slipped to the back, beginning to clean the large and very sharp looking cheese and meat slicer behind the counter.

Dean stood uncomfortably in the area between the deli and the disco room, but not quite in bar territory. Sam was looking intently at the pickled goods in the display fridge. He had recently become quite the pickled goods enthusiast since being gifted a book on how to put things in jars and age them, and had a small pickling station running out one of the bunker’s many empty rooms.

“So are these salt-brined or vinegar-brined? Maybe fermented?” He asked another deli worker, who stared at him like a deer.

“I think we put them in things.” The deli worker walked away without waiting for a response. Sam looked vaguely embarrassed.

“They’re paid minimum wage, love,” Constantine advised. “Don’t expect enthusiasm. Anyhow, since I’m being so kind as to take you to the best bar, disco, and Armenian delicatessen for at least several blocks, I think you two should tell me just who you are.”

“I don’t know what a delicatessen is,” Dean said defensively. He pointed to the writing on his hat, which read ‘Women Want Me, Demons Fear Me.’

“I see,” said Constantine, who didn’t. “What do you know?”

“Women want me, demons fear me.” He pointed to the hat again.

“Sam,” Constantine said, turning away from Dean without comment. “What do you know?”

“Uh, I know how to handle situations like this,” Sam said, with an impressive amount of acumen. “I can assure you we can deal with a little haunting. I’m sure you have some experience, but—”

“—we have more,” Dean finished, with a smirk.

Augustus came back then, with two bags of Armenian string cheese. One of them — so massive it looked comical even next to Augustus’ 6 foot frame — he handed to Constantine. The other, a smaller but still impressively sized quantity, he handed to the Winchesters.

“This is a token of my— friendship is a strong word. My decision to bear with the two of you. Trust me, it’s taking a lot of self-restraint. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop patronizing me.”

Dean, who had never considered a non patronizing approach to anyone, stifled a scoff. “What do we get out of bearing with you?” he said.

Constantine pointed at the string cheese.

Sam shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen, Dean? He obviously knows his stuff.” He took a bite of the string cheese. “And this is remarkable.”

“Isn’t it? Anyway, drinks are on you two.”

Neither of them quite new how to object, so they didn’t. After a long, uncomfortable silence filled with vague Armenian disco music and the sound of chewing,

thats all we have so far. happy birthday.

love, rey and ev <3

enjoy

evelyn my dear friend evelyn. rey whos scheming mind i would know was behind this even without the signoff. i dont know what to say. the fact that this ends in the middle of a sentence. the fact that you decided the best place for the john constantine/supernatural/60s folk crossover fic was my medieval literature side blog. the presence of the orgneys. 10/10

#long post #what do i even —

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sarah-dipitous · 9 months

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 202

Blade Runners/The Crimson Horror

“Blade Runners”

Plot Description: when Crowley confesses he’s been injecting human blood, Sam and Dean enlist the help of a former member of the Men of Letters to find the First Blade

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: well, um…I don’t necessarily know that I’d be in the situation the one human besides the Winchesters is in but it doesn’t look like he’s dead…yet…

CROWLEY FUCKED?! First Cas, now Crowley?!!

(for some reason though, I didn’t expect it to be a woman…)

Anyway, I can’t believe Crowley also drunk dialed Dean…there’s a lot that happens in these first few minutes

Part of me thinks this demon Crowley’s been with will sell him out to Abaddon….and I was right…ish. She was working for Abaddon all along

I knew Snooki was in an episode, but I didn’t remember it being THIS episode and as a crossroads demon

The way every demon backstabs every other demon

Oh no, he’s patheticccccccccc

This impromptu intervention for Crowley is actually really funny. With all the feeling he could muster (and somehow with a straight face) Crowley told Dean that Dean doesn’t know what it’s like to be human…

Aw, Sam, he’s just trying to bond with you

I just love how they’re treating the KING OF HELL like a misbehaving cat trying to sneak off with treats

Somehow Hell being at war is more predictable yet more fun than the angels’ war

I know Magnus is the name the Men of Letters use incognito but my first thought was “BURNSIDES?!”

Excuse me. WHAT?!?! I’ve been asked to suspend my disbelief a LOT for this show but just some dude who for names “master of spells” or whatever has a magical portal to his invisible fortress? I just…come ON

Ewwwww this guy sucks…called whatever the beings Sam and Dean killed as part of his test for them part of his ZOO.

The First Blade looks sick as fuck. Is it just half of the bottom jaw of some animal put on a makeshift handle? Yeah, that’s why it looks cool. It doesn’t even have all the teeth. That’s GOTTA be brutal to use

EWWW, I hate this guy MORE now. He’s added Dean to his “collection”

Every moment this guy is on screen, I hate him more. Thank god Crowley freed Dean….except Dean can’t seem to drop the blade after killing him. I knew this was going to be a problem (partly because I’ve seen this bit before, partly because of COURSE it was going to)

Poor Baby, she didn’t deserve to be ransacked and keyed

I can’t believe Sam was dumb enough to scheme about killing Crowley 10 feet away from Crowley…

It’s called self preservation, Sam, look it up

“The Crimson Horror”

Plot Description: in Victorian Yorkshire, the Doctor finds bodies with their skin waxy and glowing red

Me, muttering: it’s vastra. Vastra, not vriska. Vastra vastra vastra

Fascinating that the Victorians are allowing this woman to do this very-near-preaching

Vastra and Strax are actually a funny duo when just trying to get things done. I’d read domestic platonic fic of them when Jenny’s away

Oh I could not live in Sweetville if this noise is at all audible literally anywhere other than this giant weird room…sensory nightmare. Actually it sounds like the evil version of the TARDIS landing

Oooooooo, the look in vastra’s eyes when she turned around after saying she’s seen these symptoms once before, a long time ago. And when asked how long, she turns, does a little smirk and says “sixty-five million years” MA’AM

Not only do I not trust this old lady (because she’s kind of an obvious villain), but she’s gone and put salt down the front of her dress. Wtf is that about??

I love how Vastra sent Jenny here to be Doctor bait. She’s explicitly told to ignore all good sense and run towards every danger. But it’s okay because she’s very smart and capable

Oh shit. The Doctor is a victim of whatever’s going on in Sweetville?? I was wondering why we hadn’t seen him yet, roughly a third of the way through the episode

What the FUCK??? What are they…dipping those people in? What’s going on with the blind daughter?

Ew, people are so weird tonight. The blind daughter (I mean, thankfully) saved the Doctor from what would be certain death for a human but she’s keeping him like a chained up pet. You can’t do that!!

Why’s this kid speaking like a gps?? Literally ended with….ended with “you have reached your destination” HIS NAME IS THOMAS THOMAS? HE’S TOMTOM??? DW is pulling ahead in the “stretching my suspension of disbelief to its limits” competition

Ok what the daughter did was wrong, yes, but on a certain level she was just looking for a sort of companionship because her mom is horrendous

The fact that he can have compassion for her still is really nice. Oh good. He asked the question I’d been wondering: who is the mysterious Mr Sweet this weird factory is named after? And now that I know, I kind of wish I didn’t. A large, prehistoric red leech

Dude, THIS bitch sucks. She experimented on her daughter and played with her emotions and attachment and is now holding a gun to her head

This is like the bad version of the Magic Brian death monologue. Magic Bryan wouldn’t abandon Magic Brian…Mr Sweet is TOTALLY abandoning Mrs Gillyflower

Omg kill Mr Sweet. YEAH!!!!!! Go daughter!! Beat it to death!!

I love Jenny’s earnestness

These kids she nannies for are so clever. It’s fun

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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lulu-zodiac · 3 years

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the cinematography of destiel

so to cope with spn ending, I’ve been re-watching it from the beginning and have just been massively hit by the cinematography of destiel. it’s not something I really picked up on the first time round – I was too busy falling in love with their relationship – but HOLY SHIT. everything about the cinematography of cas and dean’s relationship plays so heavily into romantic cinematography tropes.

we all know that destiel was heavily (heavily) implied through the storyline, the dialogue, that goddamn electric chemistry between jensen and misha and the way they played dean and cas. but (until the finale season ofc), none of that was made explicit, and the showrunners often claimed destiel was just a “fan interpretation” and nothing deliberate on their part in creating the show. after re-watching spn recently (and I’m only up to s9), I’m sorry but I have to say that this is so blatantly bullshit. the directing choices and cinematography of destiel were clear, deliberate choices that were made about how to portray the relationship between dean and cas. and it’s precisely these choices that so clearly places them in a romantic setting right from the start.

as much as the script and their chemistry, the cinematography of destiel is what marks their relationship as undeniably romantic. I mean, seriously. their scenes legit feature all the hallmarks of romantic cinematography. like, things that are literally only ever used to portray a romantic on-screen dynamic???

Soft, romantic lighting

look at this shit. the soft glow full of warm hues and gentle shadow is the trademark of romantic scenes. there are a RIDICULOUS number of destiel scenes lit this way. in fact, I’d go so far as to say the majority of ones where it’s just cas and dean are like this: driving at night in the impala; countless scenes outside in the dark with soft light behind them like this one; even their goddamn fight scene is lit like a romantic movie scene.

as with stereotypical romantic scenes, this soft, intimate lighting is generally combined with emotional intimacy and vulnerability. this kind of lighting is purposely used for this type of scene because it makes people’s eyes twinkle and thus draws attention to emotional tension and intimacy of expression that are so typical of romantic scenes. I mean, you’d never have a scene with dean and bobby lit like the gif above, would you?

other examples:

Focus on communication through eye contact and body language

as with romantic movies, with destiel there’s a LOT of focus on non-verbal communication, particularly through eye contact. much more so than with any other relationship on the show, destiel depends on these, as is typical for the portrayal of a romantic on-screen dynamic; it ups the tension between the characters and gives the sense of a fundamentally deeper connection between them that explains their devotion and actions towards each other.

other examples:

Interaction in quiet, intimate scenes

the scenes where cas and dean are on their own are typically quiet, softly lit environments where they’re completely alone and the outside world fades out, narrowing their focus down to each other. the intimacy of these settings implies in turn the emotional intimacy of their relationship and feelings towards each other. these are all settings where emotional vulnerability is made much more possible, and give the characters the opportunity to give light to versions of themselves that otherwise stay hidden.

again, this is something so typical of romantic cinematography, as it builds the emotional intimacy between the characters and gives deliberate focus to the unique dynamic that exists between them.

Camera close-ups, implying emotional and physical closeness

this has been the case literally since the moment cas and dean first interaction:

this close, intimate camerawork is one of the defining features of the scenes between dean and cas. it places the focus on all that is unsaid between them but is implied, the complexity and nuance of the way they interact and what they feel towards each other. how closely focused they are on each other. the choice to film their expressions at such close range gives space to this in a way that the show doesn’t do with any other characters, even when the emotional storyline between them is important. sam and dean come the closest to this, but even then it isn’t shot as closely as dean and cas’s scenes often are.

this close camerawork provides a kind of intimacy that we don’t see anywhere else in the show apart from in romantic contexts (and even then rarely on the level it is with destiel). this intense focus that draws attention eye contact, expression, connection, and non-verbal communication is another hallmark of romantic cinematography, serving to further emphasise the emotional intimacy between them.

gif credit: @softjensen

(I could go on forever with these ones, it’s literally the entire show)

Reaction shots like this

romantic movies like to use show not tell to reveal how the characters really feel about each other - typically by using reaction shots of their disappointment/jealousy/pain, e.g. when they see the person they love with someone else. here are SO MANY instances of this with destiel. the reaction shots of dean and cas responding to the other in romantic situations are used ridiculously often, and literally don’t make any sense if they’re not intended to imply a romantic dynamic between them. these reactions are completely irrelevant to the storyline - they only serve to give us information about the cas and dean’s true feelings about each other. THERE IS LITERALLY NO OTHER REASON FOR A DIRECTOR TO MAKE THE DECISION TO INCLUDE THESE.

(don’t even get me started on how quietly heartbroken dean looks in this scene)

other examples: cas’s reaction all the way back in s4 to dean kissing anna, and dean’s reaction to cas kissing meg.

so yeah. those are some of the main things I’ve noticed. it’s also very worth noting that the majority of destiel scenes (i.e. just cas and dean) employ ALL OF THESE KEY FEATURES OF ROMANTIC CINEMATOGRAPHY AT ONCE.

I really don’t think it’s possible, from this, that the showrunners weren’t deliberately hinting at the romantic nature of destiel from the very beginning. the cinematography speaks for itself.

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thekingslover · 2 years

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Months have passed since Cas came back from the Empty and saved Dean. Since one close call too many brought forward questions of the future for the Winchesters and their found family. Someone whispered, retirement, and the thought took hold.

Sam and Eileen settled enough to talk of marriage and family. They picked out a farmhouse at the edge of a small town. Sam showed Dean pictures of a matching one, across the street.

“For you and Cas,” Sam said.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean laughed, as Sam frowned and Cas turned his gaze down to the floor.

Sam moved out first. Dean bought the house across the street, but wasn’t in as big a hurry to leave the bunker. It had been their home for longer than anywhere; it was a good enough place.

Cas stayed too. Dean saw him at breakfast and dinner, and sometimes at lunch, if Cas came to the garage where Dean tuned and retuned the car. Keeping busy was important. Too many thoughts were the enemy.

Cas would sit beside him at the table, or on the couch, or on the cool concrete floor, back pressed up against the side of the Impala. They talked some, at first, about the weather, about Sam and Eileen, about breakfast and lunch and dinner. Soon Dean stopped trying. Cas tried a little longer.

Then there was silence and missed meals and excuses. Shuffling footsteps down a dimly lit hallway. A shadow under a bedroom door, but never any knock.

Until tonight.

“You haven’t even packed.”

Dean glances at the doorway, away from the monster-movie marathon on the television screen. The room was a bit hot earlier; he’d left the door open.

“I’m beginning to think that you don’t want to move,” Cas says. He’s traded in his ill-fitting suit and overcoat for a pair of equally ill-fitting button down pajamas and fuzzy gray slippers. “Maybe you didn’t want to retire.”

Dean looks back to the television, but it has commercials on now. No escape there. So he licks his lips, shoves down the growing dread, and asks, “You got a lead?”

“A... lead?”

“For a hunt.” Dean’s out of practice. He has been kind of enjoying the lazier life, without almost dying all the time, but he’d go back for Cas.

Cas stands taller, even as his face falls. “You do want to go back.”

“Don’t you?”

Cas looks him dead in the face. “No.”

Dean, startled, nearly falls off the bed. “No?” He scrambles to right himself, and then to fully stand. Then why are they having this conversation at all? Why aren’t things good enough as they are?

“No, Dean.” Bags hang heavy under Cas’s eyes. Dean moves closer for a better look. Cas has always been rumpled, but Dean can’t remember the last time he’d seen him look so... tired.

So human.

“Cas.” Dean’s dread crawls up his throat, choking his words so they come out tight and breathless. “What did you do?”

Cas won’t meet his gaze, guilty, and all Dean can do is try to brace himself for --

“I asked Jack to make me human.”

“What? Why?”

Cas shrinks in his pajamas, shoulders dipping, chin falling. The cuffs of his sleeves cover the meat of his hands. Only his fingertips are visible. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” Dean’s ready to call Jack down here right this second and reverse this. Why would he do this? Why would Cas ask him to? None of it made sense! “Tell me so we can fix this. Whatever it is.”

Cas makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and takes a tiny step backwards.

On reflex, Dean grabs him by the shoulders, thinking he might fall. Or leave. They haven’t talked. They should have been talking. “Tell me,” Dean says, still too gruff. He exhales, inhales, and tries again. “Talk to me.”

Cas looks up at Dean, and misery shines bright in those ocean blue eyes.

“I wanted to grow old...”

“Why would--?”

“With you.”

“You...” Dean, blindsided, falls quiet. Cas... He couldn’t mean... He wouldn’t give that up for... No one would... “Cas.”

“I should go.” Cas takes another step back. Dean, still holding his shoulders, fingers curled tighter now, moves with him.

Dean hasn’t forgotten Cas’s last words before the Empty stole him away, but he hasn’t given them much thought either. They hurt too much to stay with for long, like putting his hand on a red-hot kitchen burner.

But the words, the emotions, still found him in quiet moments when he could not escape them with distraction. I love you, coupled so closely with, Goodbye.

“Cas,” Dean says, desperate. He clings to Cas’s shoulders, bunching Cas’s pajamas in his fists. “Cas, please.” He wants, but he doesn’t deserve. Everyone he’s ever cared about gets hurt. Everyone he’s ever loved leaves him.

Cas’s puppy-eyed sadness slowly tilts into confusion. Then, in the span somewhere between two heartbeats and eternity, that too smooths away into understanding.

Dean could never hide anything from Cas. Or maybe Cas is the only one patient enough to take the time, by choice, to figure him out.

Cas reaches up and places his warm hands over Dean’s bare forearms. He stands tall again, lifting his chin. A small smile curves his lips, a secret little thing that grows and grows, as he says, “I want to grow old with you, Dean.”

Dean’s heart races wildly. Any minute, it might jump clear from his chest.

“I want to be with you for the rest of our mortal lives,” Cas says, his voice a lighthouse in a storm of doubt and despair and so many decades of negative reinforcement. “And then longer, when we both reach Heaven.”

“Cas,” is all Dean can say, raw and overwrought, still afraid he might wake up and find this all a dream.

“I will stay by your side.” Cas rubs his thumbs along the delicate bones of Dean’s wrist. Gently, so gently. “You will never be alone again.”

“I don’t want to hunt anymore,” Dean says.

“Okay.”

“I want to move into that house. Together.”

“Me, too.”

“I want you to stay,” Dean says, and then again, because once didn’t feel like enough. “Please stay with me.”

“I will,” Cas says with such unreserved affection that Dean thinks he might collapse. “I will stay.”

Dean does collapse then, into Cas, and into Cas’s waiting, open arms. “Cas, I...”

“You don’t have to say it,” Cas says. “I know now. I won’t question again.”

Dean wraps his arms around Cas, buries his face in the crook of Cas’s neck and shoulder, and holds on for dear life.

Later, when they untangle, Dean will lead Cas to the bed. They’ll lie side by side, facing each other, as the monster movies cast shadows around them. They will slide their hands together in the space between them. They’ll watch each other until their eyes grow heavy and they can’t keep them open anymore.

Much later, when they move into their farmhouse, they’ll quietly unpack their separate clothes into the same bedroom. And when the sun goes down, Dean will find Cas’s mouth in the dark and Cas will press his hands to the bare skin under Dean’s shirt. And Dean will say I love you again and again until he’s sure Cas can feel the words next to his heartbeat.

But for now, Dean holds onto Cas and whispers his own small promise, a mere hint of every good thing yet to come. “I'll stay with you too.”

#i wrote something #destiel #deancas #post-canon #season 15 ts #fix it #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #sam x eileen mention /#jack mention /

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awakenthemusic · 2 years

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Suptober 2022 Day 17 - Muse

Destiel, Short fic, 1,315 words, Fluff, Songfic

Things are a bit awkward for Cas as he tries to resettle in the bunker after coming back from the empty.

Under the cut or on Ao3

Muse

Cas had been back from the empty for nearly a month, but he just couldn’t seem to settle in. Things had been good… quiet. Monster activity had been way down since Chuck was no longer around to stir the pot for more interesting storylines.

Sam was settling gratefully into a more advisory role for the hunting community at large, helping Garth coordinate hunters and take calls when necessary.

And Dean…

Cas sighed.

In some ways, Dean was just the same as he'd always been… In some ways, he'd never been further away.

Every morning, Cas would stumble bleary-eyed and yawning, into the kitchen to find Dean cooking breakfast. Dean would say, "Mornin', Sunshine" and hand him a mug of coffee with cream and two sugars, just the way he liked it. Sam would come back from his morning jog and the three of them would chat about whatever hunt was most interesting or any lore on which he needed their input. Jack would even pop down from heaven occasionally, not to interfere, but just to visit.

There was just something… off between Cas and Dean. Cas had never expected to come back after his confession, of course. He also knew that there was slim chance that Dean would be interested in talking about it. So it hung in the air between them, not heavy, per se, just there , always.

Cas tried to tell himself that it was fine. At least Dean hadn’t pushed him away or kicked him out of the bunker. Some days Dean would even seek Cas’ company out, just two days ago he had padded into the library and settled into one of the reading chairs with his latest Vonnegut book while Cas researched at the table.

It should be fine, peaceful even. This was really the best possible outcome that Cas could have ever hoped for, but… they weren’t talking. Not like they used to.

They used to sit together and tell each other everything, all their frustrations, all their fears, and now… now they talked about mundane things like the weather and which show to binge-watch next.

Dean had also started disappearing in the middle of the afternoon. For the last two weeks, he’d vanished into the bowels of the bunker for hours at a time. The first time Cas had noticed it, he’d gone looking for Dean in his room but found it empty. He checked the kitchen, the garage, and even down in the dungeon, but Dean was nowhere to be found.

When Dean had reappeared, Cas had asked as casually as he could where Dean had been. Dean had brushed the question off and changed the subject.

Was Cas fooling himself? Was Dean actually uncomfortable with Cas and just waiting for Cas to take the hint and leave?

One way or the other, Cas was at a breaking point. Given the choice, he would stay by Dean’s side for the rest of eternity, but he wasn’t sure how much more of this artificial distance he could take.

He missed his friend.

Cas sighed and tried to refocus on… whatever movie was playing on the screen of his laptop as he sat alone in his room.

A tentative knock on his door pulled him out of his morose thoughts. He paused the video and called, “Come in.”

Dean opened the door, then stood on the threshold, eyes darting around the room as he shuffled from one foot to the other.

Cas’ stomach sank. He had been fooling himself; Dean wasn’t comfortable, in fact, he looked more nervous than Cas had ever seen him. A poisonous voice in the back of Cas’ mind hissed, Here it comes. The talk. We can’t be friends anymore, Cas. I tried, but I just can’t do it. You have to leave…

Cas shook his head and blinked, trying to dislodge the thought and refocus on the present.

Dean cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before stumbling out, “Hey, Cas, would you… I need to… Can I show you something?”

Cas felt his head tilt to the side. That had not been anywhere near what he’d expected to come out of Dean’s mouth. He nodded and followed Dean down the hallway toward the— shooting range?

Two folding chairs sat inside the sound-proofed space, one of them holding an acoustic guitar. Cas frowned and turned to Dean, who motioned him wordlessly into the unoccupied chair.

Dean picked up the guitar and settled into the other chair, his eyes firmly fixed on the frets as he fitted his fingers to the strings. He strummed once, then stopped to rub his hands on his jeans with a wince.

He started to play again, and Cas thought that he recognized the tune…

Every question, every thought in Cas’ mind fled as Dean began to sing, his voice quiet and unsure as his fingers clumsily picked over the strings.

You fill up my senses, Like a night in a forest, Like the mountains in springtime, Like a walk in the rain, Like a storm in the desert, Like a sleepy blue ocean. You fill up my senses, Come fill me again.

Cas stared at Dean in awe as Dean hesitated, then started humming the next part of the song.

He knew that he shouldn’t read too much into this. Dean had clearly taken up the guitar again and just wanted to show Cas what he’d been working on. Cas had even mentioned liking this particular song years ago when it had come on the radio. Dean didn’t… he couldn’t mean…

Dean reached the end of the hummed verse and his fingers were surer on the frets now, his shoulders more relaxed. He finally looked up at Cas, his eyes shining with so much emotion that Cas’ breath stuck fast in his lungs. Dean’s voice came out strong and clear as he sang:

Come, let me love you, Let me give my life to you, Let me drown in your laughter, Let me die in your arms, Let me lay down beside you, Let me always be with you, Come, let me love you, Come love me again.

Dean strummed the last few notes and all the brightness of his soul shone in his eyes as he smiled softly at Cas.

Cas wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream, to dance, to kiss Dean until neither of them could see straight. Instead, he sat frozen, not daring to breathe for fear that he would shatter this dream and wake up cold and alone once again.

Dean said, “Um, you know I’m not good with all this…” He trailed off and gestured in a way that seemed to encompass the both of them. “I, um, I know it’s not as good as… you made such a beautiful speech and I… I just wanted to do something, I dunno, kinda big and…” Dean trailed off again as his face fell. “This was dumb wasn’t it?”

Cas shook his head so hard, his neck hurt as his breath left him on a sob. Tears streamed down his face as he choked out, “You… I never… You didn’t have to…”

“Shit,” Dean said, his eyes going wide as he jumped out of his seat and rushed to Cas’ side. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry. You don’t… We can just pretend that this never happened—”

“No!” Cas shouted, his voice echoing in the large room.

Dean froze where he was stooped over Cas’ chair, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth hanging open.

Cas grabbed Dean’s shoulders and growled, “Dean Winchester, this is the nicest, sweetest, most loving thing that anyone has ever done for me, and I will cherish this memory for the rest of time.”

Cas took a moment to relish in the adorable shade of pink that suffused Dean’s face before he pulled him in and kissed him.

#suptober22 #destiel #fanfic #fanfiction #spn #supernatural #fluff #songfic

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tootiredmotel · 3 years

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Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

#gen.fics #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #userjennmish #userdorksinlove #userstarry #tuserari #plantdadcas #offbeattraxx #slipper007 #thisisapaige #lyntracks #deancas #destiel #college au #fic #spn #gen creates

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wanderingcas · 3 years

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my writer brain is like. CRYING at how much subtly they could have included, destiel-wise, or hell even cas-wise, without even having misha in the episode

when the brothers are on their laptops in that scene, and sam is asking dean a question, dean isn’t listening because he’s researching how to get cas out of the empty on the dark webs, looking for any answer

sam interrupting dean who seems to be praying at the foot of his bed with Miracle lying by his side. dean casually brushes it off with a “you’re crazy sammy, let’s get food” and then cut to the pie scene with performative!dean

after dean dies, sam goes into dean’s room and sees notes upon notes of half-written confessions to cas, things he never said. or hell, even more research of how to get cas back. even dean looking for signs that cas was alive somehow.

in heaven, we get more than a simple half baked smile from dean after bobby said “cas helped”; we get dean jumping out of his chair, excited, going “he’s alive?” and then a look of peace settles on his face. “that son of a bitch,” he could have said fondly, as he realizes that his angel will be with him for eternity in heaven.

while he was driving, he could have prayed to cas; had this huge smile on his face when cas assumedly answered, but it wasn’t for us to hear. a private moment between them before dean reaches the bridge.

a one last iconic “hello dean” literally anywhere in the heaven sequence. it could have been thrown in before dean went to drive, as he walked off-screen to assumedly hug cas, the camera pans to bobby as he assumedly watches them, smiling big. on the bridge, before dean sees sam. on the freaking radio in the baby. it could have happened literally anytime.

i’m not even a professional writer and i could have done better than the simple “cas helped” from bobby. so many opportunities to just, sneak it into the plot, even if for fan service. like god damn.

#I'M BACK TO BITTER #ok writing my fix it fic again #destiel #spn finale #spn spoilers

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mlobsters · 1 month

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supernatural s15e8 our father, who aren't in heaven (w. eugenie ross-leming, brad buckner)

full on snorted when adam showed up in the recap

EILEEN Hey! Were you tailing me? SAM You could have left a note. EILEEN You're worried about me. SAM You- You think I'm being overprotective? EILEEN A little bit.

this all continues to feel completely out of left field. on a show that has had the number of episodes to develop a love interest, to plonk one down in the last season without any buildup prior to 3 years ago and that was very slight... is she just gonna live at the bunker? she did have a whole ass life outside of them. argh. i'm annoyed with myself being annoyed with this situation when i really liked eileen but this plotline is making me so grumpy

i was rereading a few posts from s12-13 because i referenced them or whatever and i actually still was occasionally enthusiastic and fond and i feel like now i'm just bitter and complaining nonstop

SAM So, he has an Achilles heel. DEAN Well, I'm saying he has a weak spot.

oh come on eugenie and brad, dean would know this

edited to add, thank you superwiki! (fucking bullshit, writers)

When Sam uses the phrase "Achilles heel", Dean responds as if he is unaware of its meaning (it refers to a person's point of vulnerability). However, Dean has used the term himself at least once himself, most notably in 5.04 The End: Dean: Long story. The point is... maybe we are each other's Achilles heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know we're all we've got. More than that. We keep each other human. Dean also knew what it meant when Sam used the phrase in relation to Veritas in 6.06 You Can't Handle the Truth. Dean uses the phrase himself when arguing with Samuel Campbell about demon deals in 6.10 Caged Heat.

grinding my teeth at the quirky music for cas trying to get donatello, and then the music while they all overact staring at him while he's transcribing the demon tablet. i don't know why this season feels so much worse to me. it's like there was less editing or something. slap it on the screen and call it a day

if eileen has been working the god problem with sam, why isn't she in on this confab with donatello and cas

CASTIEL Are we seriously talking about going to hell to try to speak to Michael? Michael, who is in the Cage, and insane? SAM Yeah, and who told us that? DEAN Lucifer. And Chuck. Now, I trust them as far as I can throw them. But, Cas, if you wanna stay here, why don't you stay here?

sure, why not! also dim memory of, if chuck busted open the gates of hell and let everyone out, did that not include the cage. don't even care enough to look up when that happened 🥴

not even a catch you on the flipside to eileen. she just gets to lurk in the background and watch them go. also i know i tend to space out on castiel's stuff because i lose track of anything that's not in every episode but was there any indication before about this whole losing powers business before 15x03? urgh

ROWENA He won't be in the Cage. Every door here was flung wide when Chuck opened the fissure. Your archangel could be anywhere in hell, or out of hell, for that matter.

patting myself on the back for making the right deduction :p

sleepy rumpled puppy vibes

ROWENA What am I picking up from you two? A wee tiff? Tell your Auntie Rowena. DEAN It's fine. Don't worry about it. CASTIEL It's fine. ROWENA Boys? Fix it. I don't have many regrets, but the few I do still haunt me. Making Napoleon so short was just bitchy. Telling Mick Jagger he had no future when I dumped him. And, well, everything with dear Fergus. Then one day, you die, you go to hell, they make you queen, and you can't make it right. So fix it!

in the past, they'd have conflicts that i thought were pretty significant but the whole "family gets a clean slate, all is forgiven thing forever and ever amen" would wipe out whatever it was, but i guess this time we're gonna make more of a Deal out of them working out their problem. which is what, blaming cas for soulless!jack killing mary?

lol ok

ADAM So, what about you? You gonna go back to heaven? MICHAEL Uh, I don't know. My brothers are dead. My father never returned. In so many ways, I'm alone. ADAM Yeah. Same here. It's not like I have family waiting to see me. MICHAEL You have the Winchesters, your brothers. ADAM I met them once. And they let me rot in hell. MICHAEL Family. ADAM Family sucks.

glad they're chummy i guess? and it's true. thinnest plot device of a character that got forgotten immediately

DEAN Yeah. Eileen did good, right? Getting us back from hell. She doing okay? SAM Yeah. I guess. DEAN You guess? SAM If she needs something from me, she'll tell me. We have an agreement. DEAN You have an agreement? That's adorable. Look, man, I didn't want to say anything, okay, 'cause I was kind of in in a bad place, and, uh, yeah, I didn't want to jinx it or whatever, but, you know, I tried the family thing, right? SAM Yeah, me too. And that's not for us. DEAN No, not really. But I'm just saying if it was to work, Eileen, you know, she gets it. She gets us. She gets the life. She's hot. SAM Dean. I mean, I'm not even- DEAN Look, all I'm saying is you- you could do worse, okay? And she could certainly do better. Like, so much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy.

i hate that this is upsetting me. i try to be pretty objective while watching but dean giving his blessing to go do the family thing with eileen is freaking me out

all right so michael just super-smited lilith i guess? okie doke.

sure!

MICHAEL Sam. You look well. Last time I saw you in the Cage…

which brings up the point that if sam remembers anything of the cage then he presumably would have a pretty good idea of what michael was like then, at least. but it's like he's a blank slate

DEAN Wait, Mic- Michael lets you talk? I mean, he lets you be? ADAM Uh, yeah. In the Cage, we came to an agreement. We only had each other.

not to bring up the time passage in hell equations but :p also what was it like when lucifer was still stuck there with them? he was in there topside-wise what, 6 years? and 4 years it was just the two of them

DEAN No, he won't. Because Paradise is boring, and your dad he's just looking to be entertained. Which means we're his puppets. All of us, especially you. MICHAEL I won't hear this. You're lying. I don't know what your agenda is, but you're lying.

i mean, angels don't have free will anyway, isn't that kind of the point?

MICHAEL Yes! It would. It would mean that I doubt him. The good son, the favorite, doubts his father. ADAM You still care about that? After he left you in the Cage?

and there's the kicker. good job, adam

SUE The vamps have stopped moving just outside Omaha. They'll start setting up a nest. We need to move on them before they get their defenses in place. Can you help? EILEEN I... SUE What?! Do you have to ask for permission? EILEEN Send me the directions. SUE I just texted them to you. [SUE GASPS] Son of a bitch! SAM Hey. EILEEN I was talking to a friend. She's working a vamp case. She's in trouble. SAM Okay. Let's go.

why does this feel like we're getting set up for eileen to die (again)

lol castiel had to get into a little tussle with michael so he could show him the chuck-is-an-asshole recap via magic brain fingers

well. i didn't see eileen's buddy being actually chuck coming

cackled. michael can snap a nexus to purgatory!

to get, *checks notes* leviathan nectar for the spell to lock chuck in the cage or whatever. sure, why not

ah, i see in the deleted scene there is actually some interaction with eileen before popping down to hell

EILEEN Rugaru blood. SAM signs and mouths "Thank you" and takes the bottle from her, adding it to the compounding bowl before turning back to EILEEN. SAM Uhm, I hope my room wasn't too bad. EILEEN It was. But I don't know, kind of cool you have all that spell stuff under your bed. Most guys just have porn. DEAN looks slightly offended and confused. He raises his hand to get EILEEN'S attention and mouths "He has porn." EILEEN (whispering) I know.

mmk

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 15x08 #eugenie ross leming #brad buckner

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