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dcforts · 3 years

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fix it fic. 15.20 spoilers 1.5k. ao3

The reaper they send looks at him with compassion. It’s not anyone he knows.

“Welcome, Dean,” she says, “Are you ready to move on?”

Dean blinks, looks back at where he was a second ago, where Sam is still hunched over his lifeless body.

He says, “No, my brother – first I need to make sure he’s gonna be alright.”

She smiles reassuringly and tells him, “He will be.”

But Dean insists, says, “Look, you don’t know me, but I know your boss -”

“I know you, Dean. But without Chuck, things have changed. You’re just like everyone else now.”

Right, no Billie anymore. Just an old regular Death that doesn’t care about him.

“Yeah, well, then let me stick around awhile. As a ghost or something,” he looks back once again at Sam, carrying his body out of the barn, “After everything I did. I'm just asking for this,” he begs. “It won’t be long. Just- just give me a day.”

She accepts.

So he sees his funeral.

There’s Jody, and Donna, by Sam’s side. There are the girls, tears streaked faces and broken voices. Kaia doesn’t leave Claire’s side the whole time. Garth is there too, Charlie with Stevie and a whole bunch of hunters he met down the literal road. It’s an impressive turn up, if he’s being honest.

Dean has always thought about how his funeral would look like. Before Sam, he thought his body would just rot away in some abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere, forgotten. He’d hated that. Later, he’d pictured his brother lighted by the fire of his pyre, alone and miserable. He’d hated that even more.

But things had changed and he’d changed and he’d let people in and fought to hold on to them and to do right by them. And he is proud of what he’s done for them and for the whole world; he wouldn’t change a thing. His life had been a difficult one, but he’d known love and family and that was the important part.

Now they are there, saying thank you and goodbye. And he realizes, he was silly to worry about Sam not being alright. Of course he’s going to be alright. He can see it in the way he gets shepherd to the car, fussed over, held, in the way Eileen never lets go of his hand.

So when the reaper comes again and asks “Are you ready, Dean?”, he says, “Yeah, we can go now.”

It’s only fair Bobby is the one to welcome him. He hugs him and Dean breathes in car oil and gun powder, and the inside of his house, old books and cheap booze. He doesn’t even question how is that possible.

“Good to see you, boy,” he says in the same gruff voice.

“You know that me being here means I’m dead, right?” he jokes, but accepts the beer Bobby hands him and sits next to him.

“Everybody dies, you ain’t special,” he replies with half a smile. “How was Sam?”

“Oh, you know. I’m sure he’s dealing.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon.”

Dean scoffs, “Hell, I hope not. I hope he lives the longest life, so he can tell me all about it when he comes up.”

Bobby clinks his bottle against his in agreement.

He is the one who tells him about Heaven – points in the distance at Rufus’ house, his own house. He is the one who tells him about Jack. And Cas.

Dean is surprised and gets a little chocked up. “I thought he was in the Empty. I thought – I thought Jack couldn’t reach him there.”

If he thinks that he could have -

But Bobby smiles and takes a sip. “Well, you’re right, but you think that would’ve stopped Jack from trying? He’s your son, after all,” he says and Dean is filled with pride and affection. “But when he got there, turns out, Cas was fighting from the inside.” Dean huffs a laugh and Bobby follows suit. “They broke everyone free, sent the Empty back to sleep. They’re all at peace now.”

“Wh-when did this happen?”

“Who knows. Time is different here. You’ll get used to it.”

Dean waits for Bobby to offer up some other information, but he stays silent.

So he takes a breath and starts, “Is - Cas, is he -?”, but Bobby cuts him off with a look.

“He sure knows you’re here. You just gotta call him.”

Dean nods and swallows but stays put, beer forgotten in his hand.

Another moment passes, then Bobby says, “Go, boy,” and Dean doesn’t look but he knows for a fact there is an eye-roll involved.

That gets him out of his chair and out of the shade of the porch, under a sun that is not too warm, nor too cold. “Thanks Bobby,” he looks back.

He nods and says, “Hey, when you’re done, come over at my place. I’d like you to meet my Karen,” and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen such happiness in his eyes.

He takes a few steps from the Roadhouse but when he turns back again, the pub seems miles away and then there’s the Impala right beside him.

“Hey, Baby,” he says, touching her hood affectionately. He leans against her, closes his eyes and concentrates. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna take off in a minute. Just wanted to know if someone wants to come along for a ride?”

He feels brave and light but holds his breath in the defining silence that follows. Before he can feel like a fool though, he hears a flap of wings right in front of him.

He can’t contain the smile that takes over his face. He waits a second more before opening his eyes.

“I would love to.”

Cas is beautiful. Dean has seen him powerful, and he’s seen him determinate, but he’s never seen him so peaceful and ethereal. He looks like home and like something so out of Dean’s reach – except that’s not true. He told him himself that he was wrong about that. The light shines on his face and he’s got a little smile that reminds Dean of one time on the side of a darkly lit road a lifetime ago.

Dean closes the distance in a heartbeat and wraps his arms around him and holds tight. “Hey, Cas.”

He feels the fabric of the trenchcoat against his skin and Cas’ strong arms and warm hands around him and if he didn’t already know he was in Heaven he would have started to suspect it right then. “Hello, Dean.”

They hold each other for a long time and Dean thinks of what Bobby said and wonders how many years are going by and how many more could go by before he gets sick of that.

He pulls back a little, just enough to look at his face but not enough to get out of his hold. He jokes, “You could’ve come find me at the gates, thrown me a welcome party.”

Cas presses his lips together. “I thought it was best to let you decide where you wanted to go and who you wanted to see.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t wanna see you?”

Cas hesitates but Dean cuts him off before he can say anything.

He cradles his face and makes sure Cas is looking straight at him when he says, “Cas. I love you too. Of course, I love you too,” and it comes out a little broken and a little breathy but he feels giddy and Cas is smiling and then there’s kisses, lips and hair through his fingers and a whole new shiny beautiful world. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me,” he says. “I’m so glad you’re here, I can’t believe my luck.”

Dean keeps thinking, Cas was right. All this time he thought that the best thing that could happen was to know that Cas loved him, but the way Dean feels now, seeing his eyes shining as he hears his words, yeah, nothing can beat that. He decides then, that he’ll tell him everything that Cas always deserved to hear and he’ll make sure he never forgets it. It may not make up for the time he spent doubting, but for sure he’ll try. Cas grabs his hand, “I feel the same way.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “So, what are we gonna do?”

“I could show you around. I thought I was offered a ride?”

“Yeah,” laughs Dean, pulling him along, walking backward towards the car. “You sure I’m not keeping you? I heard you’re big shot now.”

“I am God’s father. There are perks to the position,” Cas says, as they both get inside.

“Good. Hope that means you’re gonna stay. Cause I’m kinda sick of you getting out my sight.”

Cas looks back at him from the passenger seat, and it’s a sight Dean knows very well, but this time it’s different. This time he smiles and says the most amazing thing Dean could hope for.

He says: “I’m not going anywhere.”

#deancas ficlet #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfic #fix it fic #spn spoilers #15x20 #deancas #destiel #spoilers #my first fix it #how do you guys do it it's so hard #hope it makes sense #and provides comfort #i tried to fix as much as i could #my writing

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skycruise · 3 years

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Misha virtual panel Sunday 22 Nov, 2020

Tried to type as much as I could as he spoke. I know the whole thing will probably be up fairly soon so you can watch, but for now--

--He finished shooting in March

--Thought he had mourned the passing of the show & had processed it but finale was an emotional experience, took him out for a couple days

--Thinks the fandom isn’t going anywhere

--Favorite memory making recipe with kids and Vicky, talks about how cookbook came about, West made pasta with jam sauce for Thanksgiving

--Projects for future? Worked on political elections recently, planning to do more of that particularly Georgia in January. Publishing book of poetry. Couple of film projects but not as actor, one he’s interested in directing.

--How do you think Jack brought Cas back? There was a different ending that Covid made impossible, but not supposed to talk about it. Involved bringing back lots and lots of cast members from the past. In original ending, Cas hadn’t gone to rebuild Heaven there was a DIFFERENT CONCLUSION FOR HIM. He did not read the last 2 episodes after the changes. He thinks Cas and Jack are more “ethereal” when rebuilding Heaven. Pure speculation though, he doesn’t know. Will probably be better explored in fan fiction than what he could come up with.

--Fan from Brazil thanks him and asks a question I don’t fully understand. Misha talks about watching the finale with his kids. West and Maison asked him to tell them if a scary part comes up, but he had no idea. Evil clowns “shell shocked” and probably traumatized the kids. West wanted to watch something else to get it out of his head. Went to watch Curb Your Enthusiasm lol. Misha jokes he is doing a shitty job keeping his kids away from the horrors of the world.

--Castiel “melded” with Misha. Cas was just a soldier at first but over time we saw him unfurl so that he didn’t fit in anywhere “fish out of water” but tried to be a good person.

--What is the one thing he will take with him from playing Castiel? A lot. On a professional level, it was fascinating to play a character for so many years. Talked about it with J2, how the characters became part of them over the years. Watching Dean’s death scene, he cried but because it was Cas’s friend Dean. It was a weird thing on an emotional level because the lines were blurry between himself and Cas. He feels he will literally take the character with him. Cas is part of him. Maybe he should double down on therapy to try and untangle him lol. Has a “naive” idea the fandom won’t go away, at least right away. Feels grateful to be a part of that, the fandom community does a lot of great things.

--Favorite thing to bake with the kids? Pies. Though he doesn’t love pie, but he does bake a lot of them and the kids like them. Favorite kind of pie? Probably strawberry rhubarb. Doesn’t bake enough cakes! Recently made fortune cookies and put little messages inside, he put lewd messages in.

--He wants to know if he’s naive thinking the fandom will be around awhile. Fan says NO he is not.

--Misha also teared up in 15x18.

--Anything more he can say about stuff that didn’t happen in finale that was supposed to? He doesn’t want to be the one to reveal, but what are they going to do, fire him? It was a version of Sam and Dean’s Heaven that was populated with all these people from their past, all of the characters that we love from over the years were there. But COVID.

--Favorite bts memory with the boys? He doesn’t have one, they were close friends for 12 years, lots of antics. Laughing fits, fights, got pissed off at each other, fondest memories of any work he’s done were on SPN, so much laughing and mirth, he’s going to miss that.

--Why did Cas’s trenchcoat remain intact despite all his deaths? Cas never lost the ability to magically mend his clothing. It made no sense that if he got stabbed or shot, sometimes it ripped the shirt but sometimes it wouldn’t. Or it would be cleaned up by the next episode. They wanted him to look like Constantine at the beginning, costume was 3 sizes too big, finally (he doesn’t remember what season) asked for a better fitting costume. New suit first, then lost the tie but eventually put it back. One season they just got him a whole new wardrobe and never explained it. He stole some trenchcoats.

--Cas’s confession was one scene where there wasn’t much joking around, he needed to be in an emotional state. Sat on a folding chair and ruminated on his own. Stunt coordinator noticed that and just stood by, knew Misha needed his space, it was really sweet. Made sure no one bothered him. Didn’t ask him to do that, it was intuitive & Misha was appreciative. Crew was great about that during heavy scenes.

--How did he feel reading script where Cas dies? Knew it was coming, had had conversations with Bobo, was happy with it. Felt a little risky and brave, was happy to be a part of that. Happy his character could express love like that. Has seen people complain about bury your gays trope and doesn’t think that’s what was happening. Cas is in Heaven, rebuilding Heaven, and also so much good came from that declaration. Cas saved Dean which was essential to saving the world. That declaration saved the world and was of Cas’s own volition, he wasn’t forced to do that, it was his choice & that’s important. Maybe he’s naive but he didn’t think they were playing into that trope. He’s glad Castiel got to express that. He’s proud that the show did that. He’s sure it’s a conversation that will continue to be dissected.

--Will he ever get an SPN tattoo? Hasn’t thought about it, has thought about getting one related to his kids. Is that a “has-been” tattoo? Should he get Jensen and Jared’s faces? LOL. Tattoo of Cas’s face on his abdomen? Nah probably no SPN tattoo.

--3 things he does to be kind to himself? Has a tendency to be hard on himself. Sleep, run, meditate. He feels guilty he doesn’t spend enough time with his kids so he does but doing that he sometimes doesn’t take care of himself as much which makes him grumpier and not a great dad. Balancing act.

--Fave moment of finale was Dean’s death scene. Masterfully executed, well done, excellent performances from J2. Made him cry.

--Best memory of last day on set. Everyone was being really sweet, lots of tears from crew and cast. Last scene was last thing on Friday, Him Alex, Jensen, Speight had to fly to convention next morning. Finished around 130 am, got on chartered flight, 15 minutes in flash of light and BOOM, one of the engines exploded, circled back to Vancouver and plane was shaking, really scary, during emergency landing they were texting their loved ones because they weren’t sure if they’d see them again

--Did angels get their wings back? Yeah probably. Why wouldn’t they? He misses Castiel’s car though. The Pimpmobile. Had hydraulics. Remembers car jumping up and down because JARED broke it.

--Cas would be a great security guard because he never sleeps. Would not be a great teacher or architect or artist...could be handy in a kitchen though.

--What color are Cas’s wings? Misha always thought they were black, but maybe they’re rainbow colored!

--Worst joke from J2? Jokes J2 are not good people, they got really excited leading up to him directing because they were plotting, they were going to break into his apartment and steal his furniture but Misha was tipped off by crew. Fish left under his car seat, again he was tipped off. One thing he remembers is Jared messing with his directors chair so that he would fall when he sat on it. Fell for it probably 5 times. Also Jared messing up his lines until Misha went to talk to him, which is when he got pied in the face. Everything looked blurry for like 20 minutes, Jensen brought him another shirt & apologized, then during lunchtime Jensen pied him too.

--How did Cas feel when Jack became new god? Vindicated. Like, “we did it”. Also feels concerned that Jack is no longer Jack. But at his core Jack was still himself.

--Real story behind handprint? He doesn’t know, but it was a nice touch. Doesn’t remember how they came up with that. Great call back to very beginning. Poignant.

--Favorite Dad joke? The one with the snail getting thrown across the yard and 2 years later asking what was that about.

--Didn’t hear this one well but what I picked up was Favorite con moments? He and Jensen have had really fun panels in Rome

--Favorite version of Castiel to play? Loved playing LuciferCas and HumanCas. Wishes there had been more HumanCas. But regular Cas was his overall favorite, wouldn’t have wanted to trade regular Cas for any other Cas.

--Miss you guys, love you, hopefully see you soon.

#misha collins #virtual panel #StageIt #misha panel #creation 2020

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years

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Castiel: Ocean eyes

*Not My GIF*

Pairing: Castiel x Reader [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Warnings: cussing, cuteness, blindness to love. HAPPY ending

Rating: Adult Mature

Pov: Readers

Summary: Castiel cant seem to understand that the reader is in love with him, so the reader and Dean come up with an idea.

Word count: 1,866

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We all know how blinded Castiel is to like everything, so just close your eyes sit back and let me tell you how hard it was to love him and him understand that I loved him.

i pretty much had fallen in love with Cass when I first met him. Dean had told me not do that but Cass blue eyes and jawline had me the minute I saw him. dean and Sam had seen my fawned expression when he would shoot me down.

Dean was always there at your rescue. He'd tell me that it was Cass just being Cass, and that because Cass was an angel he didnt have emotions like love or pretty much anything else. According to Dean that was the reason it was okay for Cass to be a dick to me.

So for year, I made moves, undetectable moves. The sofy touches when Cass would come back from a hunt gone wrong. Just spending time with Cass trying to get close to him, physical and emotional. I was doing it, because no matter what the boys said I was going to try.

I still wonder what pushed him to say something to me, if it seeing me with someone else or the dress I had on that night.

We had a case that night that involved us all going to a mansion, it was a party. It was almost a ball but it was wasnt so we all had to dress nice.

Dean wore a dark purple suit which brought his green eye color out. Sam wore a deep blue suit which also brought his green, blue, brownish eyes out. Cass wore a darker suit color than he already wore and insisted that he keep his trenchcoat on, his suit also bringing out his ocean blue eyes.

Me on the other hand wore a red short dress, with the only pair of black heels. You see I had to choose between the 3 boys with who I was going to walk in with. I walked up the boys they all standing in the library all staring at me.

"So you gotta choose someone Y/n" Sam said. "ummm, how about Dean?" I said Dean looked up my body shaking his head, and walking towards me grabbing my arm, qalking me towards to Impala.

When we got out the venue. We went over the pla, we'd dance a little go find and kill the monster without any of the other people noticing, and then they would continue dancing to blend in with the rest of the people.

Sam walked in with Cass. Although Cass kept looking back like he didnt believe that I had chosen Dean instead of him. "Why'd you do that y/n?" Dean asked me as we walked towards the stairs. "Why'd I do what Dean?" I said back to him. Knowing what he was referring to. "You know exactly what I am talkin about. Choosing me over everyone else, which I personally don't mind, but you must know that this is going to do something to Cass right?"

"A kick in the ass" type of thing.Dhow hom what he might not get if he doesnt get his ass in gear and finally ask me out!" I said tugging Dean towards the huge front doors.

The thought may have crossed my mind when I frist choose, and I may have choosen Dean purposefully. Maybe it qss my way of kicking some sense into Castiel, or maybe it was my way of kicking some sense that I shouldn't just be looking at Cass maybw there is someone else that can handle the type of person I am.

Dean and I walked into the main room, a make shift ballroom. We looked around seeing Sam and Cass leaning up against the wall watching the other people dancing and drinking. Cass's eyes staying on Dean and I. Dean grabbed 2 champagne glasses that were pasting by us.

Handing one to me and keeping the other for himself. While I sipped at my drink Deans hand made its way around my wasit pulling me closer to his own body. The black slim high heels I wore that night allowed me to be close to Dean height.

Ad we walked around Cass's eyes again never left Deans hand that was still wrapped tightly around my wasit. I chuckled a little at an idea had gone throught my mind. Dean looked down at me asking me."What are you chuckling at or for?" He had that look that was almost like he knew he shouldn't have asked me what I was chuckling about.

"If you must know Dean, a very good but maybe bad just came up in my mind. Do you wanna hear it?" I asked Dean shook his head confirming that in fact he did want to hear my idea.

"I was just wondering how much wr could push "us" on to each other before Cass came out here and made an ass of himself. Trying to take me away from you." I said with a smirk written across my face. Took a little bot more of explaining until Dean finally caught on to my idea.

Our eyes locked, I finshed the remaining amount of my champagne placing it on the waiters table that was conveniently walking by us. This time I didnt care to look around for Cass to see if he was really there or not, I was going to enjoy myself regardless of who was watching and what we were really here for.

I also think that Dean was on the same train of thought not caring to mention that were here for a hunt or that we had a monster to kill. I grabbed Dean collar pulling him close to me. His hands landing on my hips, and my hands losening around his collar making there way to connect around his neck. "Chuck, if i didnt know any better I would say and anybody else would say we probably look like a couple form any direction." Dean said sending a ahiver down my spine. Ny body now pressed up against Deans muscled chest.

We danced all night missing the hunt. We had only danced for a few hours but if i had to be honest those hours were the best hours of my life since I would have to say since I met the two Winchester boys and Castiel. Sam came over tell yhe both of us that him and Cass had taken care of the hunt and that Castiel was currently waiting in the Impala.

We walked out an extra pep in my step letting my hips ass show the way for Dean. I could feel Deans eyes looking up and down my ass, all the way down to heels. But I couldn't figure out where the staring was coming from more specifically that was starring at my tits. Looking over at where the Impala sat there was infact not Sam sitting on the back end of Baby, but infact Castiel who was definitely starring about my tits.

Dean close behind me smaking my ass he finally caught up to me. the yelp that fell from my lips felt like so good. The stinging that was left behind because of how hard Deans hand came down on to my ass was even better. Dean then leaded me to the back door, opening the door and kissing my forehead before slamming the door shut, and walking around to start the engine up. Cass had to stop starring at the both of us when he knew that Dean was ready to get the car started. Sam was fast asleep, Dean driving sending me into a lullaby. The entire drive back to the bunker was quiet. I was looking out the Impala window, the trees, lights, and houses passing by us in what seemed like light speed.

Sam woke up, Dean getting out after cutting the engine and coming 9over to open my door. Cass was far in front of everyone else probably to pissed to realize he didnt have a key to the bunker door. I walked with Dean taking my high heels off since the dancing had most likely given me a few blisters.

Dean walked me to my bed room door kissing my forehead once again. "I hope tonight was just has wonderfu lfor you as it was me, and I also hope that this did something to kick Cass's ass into gear to finally say something about his feelings for you." Dean said. I kissed him on the cheek thanking him "You know if nothing come of him and his feelings what do you say you and I give us a shot. I'd say we be a pretty awesome fucking pair." I said he winked back at me and hugged me tightly then went to go to his room.

I turned around cathing Dean before he went into his room. "Can I ask a favor?" He walked back over to me humming. " What can I do for you y/n?" "Can you unzip me Deano!" I said with my own wink. He shook his head up and down putting his hands on my hips and lining them up with the zipper pulling it down to my hips. Once he was done I once again thanked him and walked in to my room shutting the door behind me.

I changed into an old borrowed flannel and a pair of my shorts. To see if Deans smack had left any marks yet qhich unfortunately they hadn't. I just had got under the cover a knock came to my door "Come in" was all I said. In walked a still suited up Castiel. Without any sort of hello or goodnight Cass came at with a shit ton of questions.

"What did you do with Dean? Why'd you choose him over me? Why'd you dance with him? Why'd you let him smack your rear like that?" He said in all the same breath.

"FUCKING HELL Cass stop!" I screamed at him. " Because Cas your so fucking blind to everything I ever did I only did everything tonight with Dean because we both it was going to kick you in the ass and make you finally expresse your feelings. But all you did was question me. Castiel I have loved you since the moment I first met you."

"Good because I think I love you too Y/n." Cass said coming to the side of my bed grabbing arms pulling me up into his chest and kissing me softly. I pulled him down into my bed with a snap of his fingers his suit was off leaving him in his white t shirt and underwear, i made space for him in my bed.

I feel asleep with the man I was in love with and am still in love with. His arms wrapped around me his heartbeat keepung md grounded. After now what only seems likes months, but has been 4 years of been with Castiel I am finally able to say that I truly happy with this man this Angel.

#castiel x reader #castiel #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #misha collins #castiel gif #Casgirl

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bktynes-writes · 4 years

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Hey friends! Chapter 2 is up because I’m impatient and didn’t wanna wait to post until Tuesday. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters. Read on ao3.

The Blood of the Covenant

Chapter 2: Drinks

Dean's mouth had gone dry. He sat, frozen, hand clasped firmly in the grip of the man in front of him. He was dimly aware of the fact that he had taken far to long to respond, and the look Castiel was giving him now made him even more painfully aware of the knot forming in his stomach.

Novak. The name rang in his ears. He composed himself and managed to shake the man's hand before withdrawing his own and lifting his glass.

"Novak, huh? What is that, Serbian?" He grinned at the surprised look that crossed the face of the other man.

"Yes, actually." He turned back to face the bar. "Most people don't get that the first try."

Dean chanced a glance at him from the corner of his eye and caught the small smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. Something in Dean's chest tightened as he wondered what it would be like to see him smile in earnest.

"So, Castiel, do you make a habit of jumping into random people's bar fights?" Dean asked. He motioned to Lee for another round. The alcohol in his veins made him less aware that he was sitting with a potential rival and more aware of how attractive he found the man.

"No, I can't say that I do," Castiel replied. "But I'm new in town. And I like this bar. I would rather it not be sullied by unsavoury company." He thanked Lee with a nod as he placed down two bottles of beer on the bar.

"Well, Dean here is about the most 'unsavoury' as it usually gets in here, and you seem to have made his acquaintance rather nicely." Lee provided with a smirk.

"Dean," Castiel said to no one in particular. It was like he was testing the name, rolling it around on his tongue to see how it felt, and when he let it loose from behind is lips in that low growl of a voice, Dean felt his knees wobble, making him very thankful for the stool under him.

"Right, yeah. Dean Smith," He introduced himself, and he didn't miss the look from Lee who, mercifully, did not comment at his use of a pseudonym. "Sales representative with Sandover Enterprises." He smiled.

"Sandover?" Castiel questioned. "The steel distributor?"

"The very one," Dean replied, raising his beer to Lee and giving him a look that he hoped conveyed the importance of his silence. It must have worked because Lee turned and busied himself cutting limes on the back bar.

"I see." Said Castiel. "Tell me, Dean, can I often expect to have to jump in and save you from brutes prowling alleyways and backwater establishments? No offence." He added to Lee, who raised his hands in surrender and continued to obviously ignore their conversation.

Dean chuckled. "No, I'm usually good on my own, Cas. It's just been a long day."

Castiel's lips twitched at the use of the nickname. "Ah. I understand. The last few weeks have been...exhausting."

"Oh yeah?" Dean looked the man up and down, letting his eyes linger slightly on his broad shoulders, his throat where his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and back to his impossibly blue eyes. "You don't look like a labourer. And I'm guessing this whole tax accountant thing you've got going isn't the case either from the way you swing a punch. What do you do?" He felt like he was in grade school trying to make friends again, asking what their favourite colour was.

"My family..." Castiel began, pausing and looking down at his drink. "Let's just say we've got varied interests." He smiled slyly at Dean, who was suddenly very aware of how his hands were itching to reach out and thread themselves through Castiel's hair. He kept them clasped tightly around the cold glass of his beer bottle instead.

"Well, maybe it's a good thing I ran into you then, Cas," Dean drawled. He let his tongue dart out quickly to wet his lips and didn't miss the way Castiel's eyes flicked down at the movement. "I've got some 'varied interests' of my own."

Dean could see the man's pupils dilate over the bottle that hung at his mouth. There was a distinct red tinge to his cheeks as his eyes flitted across Dean's face, from his lips to his eyes to his throat, back to his lips. Dean pulled his lower lip between his teeth and smiled at the nearly inaudible gasp that escaped the other man.

Dean heard Lee cough, fake and dramatic, behind him. He grimaced as the trance Castiel's eyes held over him was broken. Cas shook himself and turned his face from Dean to peer sheepishly at Lee, who was now smirking at both of them.

"Well, Mr. Smith, thank you for this...eventful evening. When I say the pleasure was mine, I mean it most sincerely." He took one last long swig from his beer and clambered off of his seat. "Perhaps if I'm lucky, I'll get the chance to see you again." He turned on his heel, trenchcoat billowing behind him as the breeze from the door caught it. Then he was gone.

"Dean Smith?" Lee chided. "Really?"

Dean didn't realize he had turned to watch him leave until he heard Lee speak. He spun around to see a knowing smirk plastered across his face and rolled his eyes.

"What?" Dean scowled, taking a few more gulps from his beer.

"Nothing, man, nothing..." Lee chuckled. "Just the next time you eye fuck a dude at the bar, you should probably have the decency to give him your real name. Maybe your number?"

"Shut up." Dean groaned. "I just heard about the Novaks tonight at dinner, okay? Bela says they're trying to start a war in her district, and Sam and I are supposed to 'deal' with them." He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes until stars popped behind them. "Why did it have to be Novak..." He said quietly.

Lee roared with laughter. "Because you, Winchester, invite trouble wherever you go, and I have seen that look on your face before."

Dean flipped Lee the bird and reached over to take Castiel's abandoned beer bottle. "Yeah? What look is that?"

"You think he's cute, and you wanna feed him shots until he's drunk enough to let you blow him behind the dumpsters at Antoni's on 64th St." Lee raised an eyebrow as Dean choked on his mouthful of beer.

"That is...oddly specific," Dean said when he recovered.

"Only because it's the same way you used to look at me." Lee shrugged and turned back to his limes as Dean glowered at him. "And that's specifically what happened with us."

"That was thirteen years ago, Lee," Dean said, his voice dropping. "Things are different now."

"I know, I know. Things change, people change even more," Lee glanced over his shoulder, the same shit-eating smirk as before stuck on his face, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes, "you've always been a hopeless romantic Dean, no matter how much you hate to admit it. And I like to think, after all this time, I know you pretty well, sometimes even better than you know yourself."

Dean looked away as Lee made a few more drinks for some of the other patrons. He couldn't bring himself to look him in the eyes. He was right; Dean did find Castiel attractive.

It was getting late, and as more people rolled in off the street to escape the rapidly cooling night, Lee became too busy to chat with Dean any longer. He finished the two bottles of beer in front of him, bid Lee a quick farewell with a promise to come back again soon, and departed.

He was rather tipsy now, and the alcohol sloshed warmly in his stomach as he walked back through the city towards downtown. He wasn't ready to go home yet, but the conversation with Lee had left him feeling less than willing to engage in meaningful human interaction, and he knew there was a strip club a few blocks away that might offer just the distraction he needed.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and pulled out a crushed pack of menthol cigarettes. Dean didn't often smoke, but the alcohol combined with the thoughts in his head had him craving the sweet sting of nicotine. He stopped on the corner and lit one of the white paper tubes, hissing on the inhale as the minty smoke filled his lungs.

What did Lee know? So what if he thought the dark-haired, blue-eyed man in the trenchcoat was cute? He was a Novak, and if Bela was to be trusted - which he quickly reminded himself was questionable - that made him the enemy. Still...Dean found himself thinking more and more explicitly about Castiel as he continued to walk.

Would his pupils blow wide with desire and blackout that gorgeous blue if Dean touched him in just the right way? What would his already messy hair look like after having had fingers run through it a few times? How would Dean's name sound, groaned and gasped, in that rough voice, made deeper by lust? What would those chapped, pink lips look like slick with spit, wrapped around his -

"Hey! Watch it, buddy!" Shouted a voice as Dean's shoulder bumped into another man on the sidewalk. "Fuckin' drunk..."

Dean couldn't even be bothered to respond to the man he had walked into. He really had been deep in his thoughts. Looking up, he realized his feet had once again carried him unconsciously to his destination, and he praised his knowledge of the city for allowing him to lose himself without getting lost.

Rowena's club was one of Dean's favourite places - second only to his car - and the buzzing neon sign above the door was music to his ears. Emerald green cursive spelled out "Eden" and turned into a snake coiled around a deep red apple missing a single bite. Dean delighted in the sacrilegious nature of the name. Given the activities that went on behind its doors, it suited the place. The knowledge that Rowena had chosen "Eden" to be intentionally heretical brought a smile to his face; even in Catholic school, Dean had never had much respect for the bible.

He cut the line with a curt nod to the bouncer and walked through the doors into the dimly lit club. Dean felt the tension of the evening evaporate from his limbs as soon as the pervading scent of cherries and tequila washed over him. The black brick walls and tables draped in blood-red velvet made the room feel smaller than it really was. It was hardly past midnight, and yet every table was full of men, mostly suits from the business district here to pretend their sexless marriages weren't failing. Dean snorted. Sam could have his apple-pie life with Jess; at least Dean would never end up like these poor schmucks.

Out of habit, he scanned the crowd and saw a few familiar faces, but thankfully no sparkling blue eyes and no trenchcoats in sight. The brightest source of light came from the rotating floodlights on the main stage. Dean supposed that keeping everything in shadow allowed people to feel more comfortable here. After all, a strip club may be fine and well, but when the money changed hands and gentlemen were lead to back rooms by beautiful ladies, it was best that no one knew each other's names in the morning.

A young woman in her early twenties gyrated and slowly removed her clothes on the main stage to the beat of the rock music blaring through the speakers. Dean couldn't help but watch her as she moved, dark hair falling over pale skin as she thrust her hips sinfully against the stage. Dean once again found his mind wandering, and he forced himself to engage the bartender in conversation as a means of distracting himself.

"Hey there, handsome," She said to him as he sidled up to the bar. "What's your poison?"

Dean noticed the way she leaned enticingly on the bar as she spoke, shoulders back, chest out in invitation for him to stare. He let his gaze linger for a moment before returning her suggestive smirk.

"Just a water for now, darlin'," he said. He could feel the whiskey from Lee's slowly soaking into his brain, clouding his judgement.

"Aw, you're no fun," the bartender pouted, placing a glass in front of him and filling it with water from the gun attached to the bar. "What, are you some kinda teetotaler or something?"

"Nah, nothing like that," Dean chuckled. "Just had a few already and wouldn't wanna forget your pretty face."

The bartender smiled coyly and extended her hand for him to shake. "Pamela." She said.

"Dean." He replied, taking her hand delicately in his own. "Do you just mix drinks around here, or can I look forward to seeing you on the stage later?"

She laughed. "I dabble. But tonight's not my night. I get off around three though, and uh, well, if you're still around, maybe you can too." She winked at him before being called down the bar. Dean watched her walk away, the sway of her hips capturing his attention.

"Well, well, well..." Dean heard the unmistakable accent drawl from behind him. "A Winchester. Alone in my club. To what do I owe the honour?"

Rowena was a tiny woman who had come from Scotland and made quite the name for herself in America's lucrative sex industry. She ran a tight ship with her girls, who did everything from stripping to pornography to escort work, and, in the case of Ruby and a few others, the occasional special favour for the Winchesters. No man controlled Rowena or her girls, and if anyone ended up on the wrong side of the devious little redhead, they were likely to find themselves in a sealed box at the bottom of the river.

"Rowena," Dean stated simply, rotating his chair to face her as she stepped closer to him. Her red gown caught what little light the club offered and shimmered.

"I expected I'd be getting a visit from you boys soon." She sighed heavily and waved to Pamela, who nodded and brought her a martini glass of something pink and fruity-looking. "I was hoping it would be Samuel coming to call, but I guess you'll do."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Dean asked, sitting up straighter in his seat.

"Well, I suppose it's his well-muscled arms, his gorgeous hair, his tall, strong physique..." She mused, sipping her drink with a smirk.

"No, not that, Rowena, and ew," Dean cringed. "Why were you expecting us?

"Perhaps because of those Novak boys that Miss Talbot had Ruby go looking into." Her face darkened. "I don't know what she was thinking, but that poor girl came back beat half to death. She was a good dancer, always made a lot of money on her nights..."

"Where is she now?" Dean asked. "I wanna know what happened."

"Ah, well, we agreed it was probably for the best if Ruby took some time out of town." Rowena swirled the liquid in her glass and looked away from Dean to the stage. "I have other dancers that can fill her slot for the time being."

"Where is she?" Dean asked again, an edge to his voice that made Rowena glare.

"Not here, Winchester. And if you think for a moment that I'm so disloyal to my girls that I would tell you where she's gone, then you are sorely mistaken." She defended. Dean didn't push the issue. Her mind was made up, and there was no amount of bargaining or coercion that would change it.

"Alright, so why don't you tell me what happened then?" He directed. Rowena pursed her lips into a thin line. She was the only person Dean had ever met who could rival him and his brother for stubbornness.

Rowena sighed. "Oh, why not. The more, the merrier, I suppose." She gestured to a table next to the bar where an attractive young man stood guard, keeping the table open. She waved at Pamela for more drinks and slid into the booth's bench, touching the young man's arm gently as she did. When they were seated comfortably and had been presented with a fresh round of drinks - Pamela had ignored Dean's continued request for water and had brought him another glass of whiskey - Rowena continued. "What do you want to know?"

Dean wasted no time. "The Novaks." He said. "Who are they?"

"I can't say that I know too much, honestly." She purred. "But after the incident with Ruby, I did a little research. It would seem that the father, Chuck, had a wife years ago, Naomi, who was killed in some kind of gang war. He became obsessed with revenge and took over a good chunk of Newark, eliminating the gangs, building the communities, doing all sorts of goodwill charity work, all with funds gathered through several nefarious means."

"What sort of means?" Dean asked again.

She sipped her drink slowly before she continued. "Standard fare. Murder for hire, arms dealing, the occasional art heist. If I had to guess, that'd be what made him target Bela in the first place. I don't know if you've noticed, but that woman can be a wee bit hard to handle. Not the type to make many friends." Dean snorted. He had no arguments there.

"Now, Chuck and Naomi had four sons before she passed. Apparently, everyone is a bloody Catholic because they named them all after archangels, the poor boys. Chuck started sort of 'collecting' street kids who had lost their families to the gang wars. He took them in, made them a home, and built his own family, not out of associates and partners like you lot, but an actual family of brothers and sisters." She pushed her glass away and leaned forward into Dean, dropping her voice barely above a whisper. Dean had to move even closer to catch her words as the music from the club's speakers continued to fill his senses. "They are ruthless. Especially the four oldest brothers. They will fight and kill and bleed for their family, and they will smile while they're doing it. You think you and Samuel are close? You've got nothing on these boys."

Dean swallowed hard. Rowena wasn't one to exaggerate her claims. If she said the Novaks were dangerous, he had no reason not to believe her. "How much of a threat are they?" He asked bluntly.

"Well, they certainly aren't a problem you should ignore." She smirked. "But, I do have a feeling that some of that Winchester charm could come in handy." She reached out and tapped Dean lightly on the tip of his nose.

"Thanks, Rowena," Dean said, slipping out of the booth. "And if you see or hear anything else..."

"I'll be sure to call you, quick as a whip." She said sarcastically. He nodded and headed towards the door. Pamela's earlier proposition rang in his ears, and, as much as he wished he could stay and accept, his gut was telling him to return home and relay the information from Rowena to his brother.

He staggered out into the alley again and rubbed his hands together to stave off the rapidly cooling September night. He thought about calling Benny for a ride. The Winchester bodyguard could always be relied upon to answer his phone at any hour and never say no to Dean. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned. The screen displayed several missed calls from Sam and a few from his mother. He grinned widely. They were probably calling him to chastise him for not being present for Sam's proposal.

Quickly tapping open the screen, he dialled his brother's number. It only rang once before Sam's voice came through the other end.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean beamed into the phone, staggering a little on the uneven sidewalk. "So? Did she say yes? Is my baby brother getting married?"

"Yeah, Dean, she did. Where are you?" Sam huffed into the phone.

"Out," Dean stated. "Celebrating on your behalf."

"Are-are you drunk?" Sam stammered into the phone.

"I mean, pshhh, maybe? A bit?" Dean smiled. He was feeling great. Who cared about that pretty-eyed guy in the trenchcoat at Lee's? Dean didn't care. And he didn't care that he didn't care. "Listen, I talked to Rowena and - " Sam cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Jesus Christ, Dean!" Sam yelled into the phone, and Dean immediately began to lose whatever happy buzz he had gained through the night. Sam never yelled at him. "It is 2am, and I've been trying to call you for HOURS! I even called Lee's, but he said you left before midnight, and now you're wasted downtown by yourself and I just..." There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Dean could hear Sam taking deep breaths to calm down.

"Hey, hey, Sammy, listen, I'm okay." He tried desperately to soothe his brother's worries. The panic in Sam's tone had sobered him, and he transformed immediately into Big Brother. His primary focus was back on protecting his little brother, making sure he wasn't afraid. "Everything is fine. I'm not wasted, just a little buzzed. I'm gonna call Benny for a ride and head back to my place. I'll text you when I'm home and call you in the morning, okay?"

"No, Dean," Sam said weakly into the phone, "it's not okay."

Any remaining happiness Dean had from the alcohol was extinguished. His feet stopped moving, and his own voice seemed distant as he spoke. "What's wrong, Sammy? What happened?"

Sam sounded like he was speaking through a tub of water. "It's Dad. You need to get home."

Tags: @valleydean @fighterfortheforgotten

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fic #deancas fanfic #deancas fic #destiel mafia au #destiel fic #tw: alcohol #tw: blood #tw: smoking #borderline nsfw???#idk i mention blowjobs...

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cas-lost-grace · 4 years

Text

Candlelight

A little Christmas-y smutty fic I wrote to accompany @winchester-ofthe-lord ´s beautiful fanart.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!

The candlelight makes the main room of the Men of Letters bunker seem cozier. Or maybe it’s the huge Christmas tree, with its glistening ornaments.

Dean didn’t protest when Sam and Eileen hauled the monstrosity inside, but he didn’t give them a hand when they started decorating it. He watched them from distance, they were so immersed in their own bliss they didn’t even notice he didn’t participate in any of the festivities. He tasted the cookies they made and told Sam his gingerbread man looks like a zombie, but that was it.

It’s not like he’s not happy for them. It’s wonderful to see his brother all smiles and giggles and heart-eyes. He’s happy for them. But it doesn’t change the fact that all the domestic bliss makes him feel hollow inside like he’s painfully reminded of something missing. Not something - someone. It’s pointless to play oblivious anymore. He knows exactly who he wants by his side and he’s certain it’s a wish that won’t come true, not this Christmas and not ever because if there ever was a change, Dean screwed it up entirely.

He thinks it’s officially 25th already. He’s been sitting here for hours after Sam and Eileen retired to the room they pretend they don’t share. He watches the candlelight reflect in a glass of whiskey and thinks about things he avoided thinking about for years. Sam sneaked out of his room some time ago to put presents under the tree. Dean told him he was ridiculous. Sam told him he should sleep. Dean promised he would when he finishes his glass, but instead, he refilled it.

He jumps when he hears the main door opening and reaches for his gun. He aims it at the staircase and holds his breath. What asshole attacks on Christmas?

His heart stops when he sees the beige of a trenchcoat and the dark mop of hair. He almost drops the gun, his knees almost give up under him.

"Cas," he says instead, letting out the breath he’s been holding and lowering the gun, "what are you doing here?" His voice is rough from disuse and whiskey and his words come out harsh. Castiel’s face shifts, his expression turning to disappointed, hurt. Dean hates it.

"Eileen called me and asked me to come for Christmas dinner. She insisted." Dean realizes Castiel is still holding the doorknob when the angel turns slightly towards it. "But if you don’t want me here I-"

"No!"

Castiel jerks. His eyes are wide as he looks at Dean.

"Please don’t." Dean’s heart is beating so hard it’s almost painful. "Don’t go. Stay."

Very slowly, with his eyes still fixed on Dean’s face, Castiel walks down the stairs and towards Dean.

He’s carrying a plastic bag that Dean only notices when Cas drops it on the table next to Dean’s glass.

His expression is cold as always when he’s around Dean, these days but his face is beautiful in the candlelight.

It might be the shadows of his lashes falling on Castiel’s cheeks or the whiskey or Christmas spirit that makes something in Dean shift.

"I’m sorry," he blurts out. Castiel’s eyes meet his and his pink lips part but Dean doesn’t let him speak. He can give him the chance to ruin his resolve. So he speaks, rushed and breathless, words tumbling out of his mouth chaotically.

"I’m sorry, Cas. I’ve been an asshole. The whole thing with Chuck fucked me up badly and I... I started doubting everything and you are right that Sam and I have each other but it’s different and I’ve been an even bigger mess without you and-"

Castiel’s hand gripping the front of his shirt startles him into silence, but it’s nothing like the surprise when Cas presses his lips to Dean’s.

It takes Dean a moment to react. It’s Cas, after all. His friend, an angel of the lord.

Dean inhales through his nose and his lips finally melt against Castiel’s and they are finally kissing properly. Just lips at first, soft but insistent, then tongues meeting and exploring, hands griping at clothes and raking through hair.

When they part after what feels like hours, best hours of Dean’s life, Dean’s breathless.

He stares at Castiel’s face, much softer now. Castiel brushes Dean’s cheek with his fingers.

"Do you think Chuck would want us to have something like this?"

Dean shakes his head. "We should have done this a long time ago," he whispers.

"Maybe. Maybe not." He shifts his weight and Dean’s hands that found a resting place on Castiel’s hips twitch, afraid that he is going to move away. Instead, Cas pulls Dean into an embrace. Dean lets out a heavy breath and with it, he feels a huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

Castiel holds him tight, his face pressed against the side of Dean’s neck. He’s warm and solid.

"I’m sorry I hurt you," Dean says, his eyes suddenly prickling.

"You were hurt yourself."

"That’s not-"

"Shh, let’s not talk about it. Let’s just-"

"Okay."

They kiss again and again. Dean pushes the ugly trenchcoat off Cas’ shoulders and is surprised by the lack of resistance. He decides to push his luck and get rid of the suit jacket and tie too. Castiel doesn’t seem to mind. He seems... in awe mostly. His eyes are dark and glistening and never leaving Dean. His lips are swollen and parted to let out soft sighs and moans. He reacts to every kiss every touch so intensely it makes Dean feel greedy, addicted.

"Do you feel good?" he asks against Cas’ ear. They somehow ended up with Cas sitting in Dean’s chair, Dean straddling his thighs. At some point, Dean’s shirt has joined Castiel’s clothes on the floor.

"Yes," Cas replies with a shaky voice. His fingers are digging into the soft part of Dean’s hips so hard that Dean’s wonder if part of him is scared too. Scared of this ending too soon, scared of this being their only chance, scared of this being just a strange Christmas dream.

"I want to make you feel so good," Dean says and sucks at the pulse point on Cas’ neck. Cas gasps.

"Dean, please."

Dean’s hand slides down the center of Cas’ chest where his shirt is open. He presses his palm suggestively against the zipper of Cas’ pants.

"Are you sure?" Dean asks, looking Cas in the eyes.

"Yes. Dean, I want... I want everything with you."

Dean’s chest tightens painfully and he feels like he might fall apart if he doesn’t kiss Cas again.

When he feels steady enough, he kisses down Castiel’s chest as he slips off his lap and kneels on the floor. He fumbles a little with the buckle and zipper and then there’s the awkward part of Cas lifting his hips but not actually standing and Dean dragging his pants and underwear down.

Dean swallows when he sees Castiel’s cock, big and half-hard. He looks up and his breath hitches at the sight of Castiel’s face. It’s elated, but soft. Dean can read the adoration, the love in Cas’ eyes and it’s overwhelming.

He wishes he could express how much this moment means to him, how he lost all hope they could ever be together like this, ho he feels so happy he expects his heart to explode every minute. But he’s never been good with words. He decides to express his feelings through action instead and hopes Cas will get it.

He nuzzles at the base of Cas’ cock, cherishing the gasp that elicits.

It doesn’t take long to work Cas to full hardness with slow licks and one hand on his balls. Dean takes a last look of Cas’ face, eyes half-lidded features soft in the molten gold of the candlelight. Then he takes him into his mouth.

Cas moans and his hand lands on the back of Dean’s head, not pushing, just to ground himself.

At first, Dean’s focused, taking stock of every moan and twitch, calculating the best course of action to bring Cas as much pleasure as he can. It only lasts until Cas keeps scratching his scalp and moaning his name. Then Dean gets lost in it. He barely pays attention to what he’s doing, acting on instinct, enjoying the heady sensation of Castiel in his mouth.

It takes him a little by surprise when Cas comes. He swallows what he can but still feels come and saliva dripping down his chin. Before he can wipe it off, Cas drags him up into his lap and kisses the mess again. It makes Dean’s hard cock twitch uncomfortably in his pants.

Cas is shaky as he kisses Dean deeply. When they part, he drops his forehead on Dean’s shoulder and huffs out a little laugh. Smiling, Dean turns his head and inhales the smell of Cas’ hair.

"Good?" he asks, giddy.

"Good isn’t a word strong enough. I don’t think human language has the fitting word."

It’s Dean who laughs this time, quiet and breathless. "That’s the weirdest and at the same time the sweetest thing anyone told me after sex."

At that, Cas jerks and looks Dean in the eyes. There’s a dangerous spark in his gaze that Dean worries for a moment is anger but soon realizes is jealousy at the mention of Dean having sex with somebody else.

"I want to make you feel good too," Cas says, voice so rough it gives Dean goosebumps.

He nods, speechless as Cas’ hand slides into his sweatpants. He doesn’t want to think about where Cas learned how to do this, just buries his face in the crook of Cas’ neck and enjoys the work of Cas’ skilled hand on his cock.

He comes with a muffled cry and doesn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed for not lasting longer.

There’s a long moment of comfortable silence as they cool off holding each other.

"You should get some sleep," Cas says softly and makes Dean realize he’s been nodding off in Cas’ embrace.

"I don’t want to. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find out it was just a dream."

Cas shakes his head with an amused smile. "Would it help if I go to bed with you?"

Dean grins. "That would be great."

Castiel gets up, Dean still in his arms letting out an undignified squeal.

"What the hell, Cas! I can walk just fine."

Cas presses a kiss behind Dean’s ear. "Be quiet or you’ll wake up Sam and Eileen," he mutters and starts walking towards Dean’s room. Dean huffs but doesn’t protest further, he just holds on tighter.

As he looks over Cas’ shoulder he sees the mistletoe hanging near the table, right where Cas kissed him for the first time. He can’t help but giggle softly. Maybe miracles really happen at Christmas.

#destiel #destiel ficlet #destiel smut #destiel fluff #canon compliant #fix it fic #kinda #mine

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gii-heylittleangel · 4 years

Text

SPN Coda 15x12 - “Galaxy Brain”

Hey, there! Were you waiting for this coda? I hope so and I hope you enjoy it, especially cause there’s no angst. What, you, writing a non-angsty coda? Yes, it’s true. I already sprayed myself with holy water, don’t worry, there’s no demon possessing me.

Anyways, go enjoy it! :D

Read it on AO3!

The words kept replaying themselves in Dean’s head: You are the messengers of God’s destruction. They hadn’t really sunk in yet, and Dean didn’t know if he wanted them to or not. Just wondering about their meaning made Dean’s mind start to panic and he wasn’t sure what would happen if actually thought about them; if he decided to see their meaning for what it was.

Billie had disappeared as fast as she had appeared, leaving them after dropping the huge bomb about Chuck’s death. Dean couldn’t say he was surprised anyway; it was kind of Billie’s thing by now. And he had followed suit, sneaking unnoticed out of the library and to his room as fast as he could, closing the door behind him with a heavy sigh.

He couldn’t be blamed for that though, right? Sure, he was starting to make his peace with the fact that Jack would be the one to ace God, but he wasn’t expecting that he and Sam would have a big role in it. The only thing he thought they would do was help Jack through it, making sure he followed Billie’s—mostly-unknown—plan, and that he would have back-up when the day finally arrived; not be the messengers of God’s destruction. I mean, what the hell was that even supposed to mean? They would get there, announcing to the world that G-O-D himself was about to get killed before Jack finished him? Didn’t make any sense.

It probably wasn’t going to go like that if Billie’s tone was anything to go by. She made it sound like they would have a much bigger role in it than Dean would’ve liked.

Dean pushed himself off the door, toeing his boots from his feet before collapsing onto his bed. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it; he was supposed to be doing anything else that would get his mind off those words. Reading, hunting, eating, cooking, sleeping, anything really. But wasn’t there a thing that said if someone tells you not to think about an elephant, you will think about an elephant? At least one thing Dean was normal about.

With a sigh, Dean turned to grab the remote control and turn the TV on; hopefully, something good would be on and he would get distracted with it. He changed the channels without actually paying attention to the show or the movie, but having a background noise and something to focus on helped him keep his mind blank.

After he finally decided to leave on a random soap opera, Dean snuggled closer to his pillows, happy to watch a drama that wasn’t his own life and he got engrossed at it. Slowly, his eyes started to get heavy with sleep, his muscles relaxing against the comfortable bed, and Dean was almost asleep when someone knocked on his door, startling him awake.

Dean groaned, pressing his eyes closed until the door opened quietly and he turned to face Sam. He rubbed at his eyes as Sam rested against the door frame, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Jody called. She and Kaia are home and Claire should be there soon.”

“That’s good. I can imagine how happy Claire will be when she sees Kaia again.” Sam nodded with a small smile. “How’s Jack?”

Sam sighed softly. “He seems fine. Didn’t say much about everything Billie told us, but he seems to be holding up. Said it was worth it breaking her rules and saving Kaia.”

“Well, Chuck didn’t kill us, Billie only gave us a lecture, and we’ve got Kaia back. Can’t say I don’t agree.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Sam pushed himself off the door and walked to sit at the edge of Dean’s bed. “And how’re you doing?”

Dean shrugged, circling one arm on his pillow and pulling it closer to him. “Not sure. Haven’t let the whole ‘messengers of God’s destruction’ thing sink in yet. You?”

“Don’t know if all of it is good or bad news yet. I didn’t think we would play such a big part in it.”

“Yeah, I didn’t either. But, hey,” Dean knocked his foot on Sam’s thigh, “Guess we can get some payback too, then, right?”

Sam chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s just hope Billie’s plan works.”

Dean hummed in agreement, moving his gaze back to the TV where the characters were screaming about something. “And where’s Cas?”

“He was in the library last time I saw him, trying to talk to Claire, I think.” Dean nodded, lower lip worried between his teeth. Sam raised a brow at him. “I thought you two were working things out.”

“We are,” Dean replied, way too fast. He sighed, closing his eyes. “At least, I think we are. We haven’t been fighting so things are better, but I don’t know, man. There’s still some… some kinda tension, I think.”

Sam gave a few taps on Dean’s ankle, offering him a small smile. “I’m sure you two will get back to your intense staring contest in no time, don’t worry.”

Dean flipped him off but he felt the corner of his lips quirking up. “Yeah, I hope so. Alright, now go away. You interrupted me when I was almost asleep and I would like to go back to it.”

“Yeah, whatever. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam smiled at him before standing up and walking out of the room. The door closed softly behind him and Dean snuggled on his pillows again, feeling a little better. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one freaking out about Billie’s plan and that Sam was in the middle of it too.

Still, Dean would rather not think about it so he buried himself under his blankets, letting the movie fill the silence around him as he pretended to pay attention to it. It was easy enough and, soon, he was feeling sleepy again, letting his eyes fall closed.

Dean was mostly asleep, between conscious and unconsciousness, when the door opened again, super quietly, someone standing awkwardly between the doorframes. Dean turned on the bed sleepily, squinting his eyes to see who it was: Cas.

“Cas? Everything okay?” Cas nodded, shuffling his feet as he stared at the floor. Dean frowned, turning his body to be able to face Cas completely. He moved back on the bed, raising the blankets. “Wanna cuddle?”

Cas smiled softly and nodded, closing the door behind him. He got rid of the trenchcoat, suit jacket, pants and shoes before climbing under the blankets with Dean with a happy sigh. Dean tucked the blanket around him, opening his arms to put them around Cas and hug him tightly. He pressed his face against Cas’s neck, inhaling his scent and relaxing against the bed again.

Cas’s arm circled Dean’s waist, pulling him closer as Cas pressed a kiss on Dean’s forehead. Dean wasn’t sure what made Cas be so soft and go after him to some cuddle, but Dean was never one to put a gift horse under a microscope so he just accepted it; he enjoyed their closeness and he let Cas’s care lull him to sleep.

Before he could fall asleep completely, he raised his head to place a chaste kiss on Cas’s lips, happy to see Cas smile after, and whispered a quiet, “I love you,” before snuggling against Cas again and finally letting sleep get to him.

#littleangelwrites #spn spoilers #spoilers #spn 15x12 #15x12 #destiel coda

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casmoments · 4 years

Text

Devils and Dreams

Prompt: Imagine Castiel punishing the reader because she enjoyed Lucifer flirting with her. Reader Gender: Female Word Count: 4300 Warnings: spanking, d/s play.

As usual, you couldn’t quite discern if you were scared or aroused. If unleashed, Castiel’s anger was admittedly intimidating. But Castiel in a mood was the unwitting personification of a good, hard fuck. That damn suit, the trenchcoat, the backward, tightly knotted tie, his mussed hair, his blue eyes blazing with hot, dark intent, so irrevocably focused on you—

You swallowed, shoving those thoughts aside as he approached. He kept a reasonable distance though his wrath never dissipated.

“Your continued recklessness is insufferable,” he scolded. He’d gone off you a while ago, though he spent the majority of the day ignoring you. You wished for the silent treatment again. Not because the arguing was bad, per se, but that rough voice hit decibels low enough to light sparks.

“I’m insufferable?” you asked, allowing your own anger to bleed free.

“Yes, Y/N,” he said sharply.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Look, nothing happened. I’m not an idiot, okay? I know what I’m doing and I don’t need you breathing down my neck—”

“Do you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. He stepped a bit closer, barely a foot of space between you. You locked your eyes on his, standing at your full height instead of slouching against the motel room door. You weren’t as tall but you carried as much rage. Castiel leaned towards you, glaring, looking at you like you were little more than a foolish child. “Do you, girl?” Your jaw dropped at the dismissive title, a retort on your tongue that he interrupted. “What do you know about anything?”

“More than you think I do, jerk,” you replied, shoving at his chest. He did not budge but you banged yours firsts. Freaking celestials…

“You should learn your place,” he said. You refrained from shoving again, knowing it did nothing.

“My place?” you demanded. “And here I thought we’d finally moved past places.”

“There are intolerable assignments,” Castiel said, almost growling his words, “and there is disrespect. There is also thoughtlessness and stupidity. I repeat,” his face was almost in yours, “you should learn your place.” He leaned back and bit, “girl.”

“Call me that again, jackass, see what happens.”

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes again. “What will you do?”

It was your turn for the silent treatment. With another glare, you stormed past him and further into the room.

“Sure, I’m insufferable,” you grumbled, kicking at the bed. “I’ll give you insufferable.”

“You already do,” he said dryly, turning to face you. “Very well.”

“Bite me,” you snapped, spinning to his direction. He stepped towards you.

“That wouldn’t achieve anything,” he said. You crossed your arms again, throwing him a sarcastically wide-eyed look.

“Oh my,” you drawled, “then whatever will you do, Mister Big Bad Angel? You gonna assert yourself, huh? You gonna ‘put me in my place’?”

“Perhaps I should,” he said sharply, stepping right into your personal bubble, your chest bumping his. You couldn’t even revel in the proximity, nor lend any thought to him asserting any dominance over you, because you were so wound in your own frustration. The space between you was heated, riddled with snarls and breaths and biting words. One taut, invisible string tethered the chaos which threatened to envelope you.

“What’cha gonna do, tough guy?” you asked, throwing your arms out at your sides. “Give me ten Our Fathers? An Act of Contrition?” You all but spat your words. Castiel leaned so close, your noses almost touched.

“That would imply the capacity for mature reflection,” he said, “a task I have no expectations a child could fulfill.”

“Oh, I see!” You fisted your hands on your hips, stepping right against him so there wasn’t an inch of space between you. “That’s a real great insult, huh? So tell me,” your veritable wrath delved to sarcasm, your own eyes narrowed, “what’s the big plan? Are we sticking with the classic time-out or a front-handed spanking over your knee?”

You arguments never quite reached this level of intensity—or closeness. All the same, you expected it to unfold usually.

That did not happen.

The string between you snapped and, after a scarce moment of contemplation, Castiel moved. He grabbed your arms and you instinctively rebelled, pushing at him to no avail. He gripped you tight, not painful in the slightest but impossible to shake, and effortlessly manhandled you with a step forward. You stepped back, mostly confused—confused right until the point he plopped down on the bed. You had a two second margin to gather your bearings, then you were draped over his knees.

“Oh my god,” you snapped, punching his leg and the mattress. “You are not serious!”

“It was your proposition,” he said plainly. He leaned down to pointedly growl, “girl.”

Oh fuck.

“Cas—” The sound was not ended when he delivered an open-handed smack to the back of your thighs, causing you to yelp. “Castiel, this is ridiculous—” Another smack to the same place. You lifted upward but he pressed at your shoulder-blades, holding you down. “Real mature, buddy.”

“No,” he said, “it’s not. I believe that was your point.”

If you had a reply, it was forgotten when he smacked your ass. He obviously restrained his true power but in its wake was a sharp, human strength. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to disassociate Castiel’s mocking retaliation with the actual spanking. Your comment was flippant but its realization less so.

“Castiel,” you tried not to groan, biting your lip again when he hit your ass. “This isn’t fair.” You swallowed a sound at the next slap, ignoring the sting and definitely ignoring the heat low in your body.

“You willingly entertained an advance from Lucifer,” Castiel said, grabbing the back of your thigh and pushing a bit, effectively hoisting your ass higher. You definitely did not help lift it, of course not…

“Yeah,” you spoke through a gasp, trying to breathe evenly after another smack. “You’d have preferred I entertain you?”

He said nothing to that but he did shift beneath you. You smirked, lifting an eyebrow at nothing.

“What’s that?” you asked. “Didn’t hear you.” He smacked you again, hard enough you scooted forward. That did not help matters, your pelvis thrusting down, body rubbing against his thigh. Still, you reigned your reaction, gripping what you could of the bed. “What’cha so mad about, Cas? You wanted my eyes on you? Is that why you got me in your lap?”

“No,” he grunted, hitting the back of your thighs again, then your ass quickly. The change in rhythm startled you, freeing a small mewl, one he ignored. “You insist on behaving like a child. This is how children are reprimanded.”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever you say.” Your breath caught when he placed a hand under your chin, tilting your head back. His other hand paused, resting on your lower back, just barely brushing your already sensitive rear.

“Why are you so proud?” he asked. “You insist on starting arguments with me and you never apologize.” He smacked you before you answered. It wasn’t so easy to hide a reaction when he was staring down at your face. The line of your throat was perfectly exposed, neck stretched as you tipped your head back. His fingers under your chin moved a little lower, experimentally circling your neck. That was distracting enough without the succeeding slap to your rear. “Now is your opportunity,” he said gruffly. “Apologize.”

“Ah, it, you—”

He squinted, watching you in scrutiny as he smacked again, his other hand now firmly supporting your throat.

“Fuck,” you said, voice rougher than usual. You breathed a bit harder. You wondered if he could feel your heart racing, your chest pressed against his thigh. Your senses returned gradually. “Screw you, Cas,” you gasped. “I have all night and not one second of it will be spent apologizing to you.”

“You’re as stubborn as you are reckless and disrespectful,” he said. “Perhaps I should leave you to Lucifer’s wiles. That might be penance enough.” He smacked you on the word penance, your breath stuttering. You shuddered when his hand paused on the back of your thigh, sliding over the curve of your rear gently. It rested right on your ass and you tried to swallow, the angle of your throat awkward, resulting in a broken, strangled sound.

Castiel tipped his head, regarding you with a bit more warmth and a great breadth of curiosity.

“What is it?” he asked, then narrowed his eyes. You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. Breath came faster as he slid his hand back and forth on your ass, barely a brush but substantial—substantial enough to colour your cheeks pink.

“You’re aroused,” he said. His voice somehow sounded even rougher than before.

“What?” You talked the big talk but you blushed furiously now. “Of course I’m not.”

He said nothing but smacked your thighs again, looking at your face as he did so. You closed your eyes, biting your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. His hand slid up your throat, thumb pressing at your bottom lip as he slapped your ass.

“Open your eyes,” he said. You complied, blinking up at him while he parted your lips. Your entire bottom half was aching. You fought the desperate need to rub yourself against his thigh, remaining perfectly still as he smacked your ass again. Pain tingled sharply beneath his hand in contradiction to the heat slickening your needy sex. He kept his thumb on your lip, preventing you from closing your mouth. Your eyes did close at the next smack but you lost regardless, a soft moan tumbling from your lips. He rewarded you by gently rubbing where he smacked, an action that only spurred another obvious sound.

“You are an enigma, Y/N,” he said, with something of a resigned sigh, like he surrendered all efforts to understand you. You pressed yourself against him, gaze positively glittering when you bumped a growing ridge in his trousers.

“Really?” you rasped. “Because you seem to understand perfectly.”

His hand ran down your throat then pulled away. He glared but it was not contemptuous—it was almost teasing. It made your heart stop, the world fading to nothingness as he wet his lips, tipping his head while regarding you.

“I understand enough,” he said. With that, his hand was on your shoulder-blades again, pressing you down. You found yourself staring at nothing again. The strange peace was quickly interrupted, your thighs clamping together as he lifted your hips and slid his hand under you.

“What—what’cha doing there?” you asked, licking your lips when his fingers circled the button of your jeans.

“You shouldn’t ask such stupid questions,” he said roughly, pushing the button through its loop. “And you have not done as I said, girl.”

Oh fucking hell—you couldn’t even remember what he said, not after everything. He pried open your jeans then grabbed the material at your hips, tugging it down. You groaned a bit helplessly, unable to fight the sound. You lifted your hips so he could easier lower the jeans, shoving them past your thighs so they gathered at your knees. You breathed in short, quick pants now, thighs pressed tightly together.

“D-do what?” you stammered. You pressed your lips into a thin line, his finger tracing the edge of your panties.

“Think,” was his only answer, his entire palm settling over one side of your ass, slightly kneading the tender flesh. After the sharper assault to your skin, the motion left you moaning, rocking your hips forward. He clutched your hip, preventing your movement. You groaned and slumped against him.

“You said, uh, you said…”

He lifted his hand and you anticipated another smack, but it never came. Then suddenly he hooked his thumb into the waistband of your underwear and pulled.

“Oh my god,” your voice broke into a whimper. Was he seriously—?

He was. Castiel dragged your underwear right down, exposing your backside completely. His hand returned to your skin, barely brushing it.

“The colour has darkened,” he said thoughtfully, running his fingers over your undoubtedly pinkened rear. Given he delivered another sharp slap, he clearly decided it wasn’t quite red enough. You yelped, not quite expecting how it would feel on your naked flesh. You hadn’t realized how much your jeans padded the hit, because this time your skin stung all over—and all you did was moan like a wanton whore.

“Oh god,” you mewled, “oh god.”

“Prayer is not necessary,” he said, another slap. “God does not need your apologies.”

Oh for the love of—

“No,” was your response nonetheless. “I’m not—ugh—I’m not apologizing to you!” He smacked the back of your thighs then your ass again. You pressed your thighs together because this was getting you too damn hot and you almost feared leaving a wet spot on his thigh. Though you did grant, that thought held some allure…

“Won’t you?” he asked, smacking your ass then running his palm over the sensitive mark.

“N-no. Jerk.” Though you couldn’t deny how hot this was, your body still responded instinctively to a strike. You trembled, sharp pains crawling over your backside, and your voice caught as your eyes strained with tears—though that might have been partly attributed to your desperate, unsatisfied need, and not just the physical endurance.

“You will say it,” he said. “In detail.”

You bit your bottom lip, groaning when he smacked you again, but commentary finally kicked in and embarrassment faded. You smiled to yourself, lifting your head a bit.

“I don’t think you want me to say it,” you said. “I think you like having me like this, you great big celestial brute. You don’t want me to apologize for anything. You want me right here, rubbing myself all over you like the bad, bad girl I am—” You yelped at the next smack, though it was lighter and you should have expected it.

“Well,” he said dryly, “you are that.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, a small laugh in the sound, “can’t help it.”

He shifted beneath you and you felt the bump of his cock again, much harder than before, pressing right up again his trousers. You rocked against his thigh, moaning with more verve than strictly necessary.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he said, hand running up your spine towards your hair. He fiddled with it, slowly winding it around his fingers. “Girl,” he added, sharply tugging your hair. You tipped your head back, looking at him with a cheeky smile.

“Just ‘girl’ again? I think I like bad girl more,” you teased, squeaking when he basically threw you back down. His hand moved back down your body, sliding over your ass which caused you to tense.

“I don’t care what you like,” he said, hand on your thigh, “when you start showing me some respect, you can receive the same.”

“Well, I don’t want to be respectful,” you said, grinding forward again. You then lifted your ass, wiggling your hips. “Come on. Aren’t you gonna hit me again?”

“No,” he said, palm sliding down your thigh to the back of your knee, then returning. You shivered beneath the gentle motion, breath running ragged. Castiel was quiet for a moment, then he shifted again, grunting a bit. His voice was rougher when he spoke again, caught in a long, low growl, “I am not continuing this,” his hand slid over your ass and you made a small noise, “you enjoy it too much.” He sighed, thumb at the cleft of your ass, threatening to dip and slide. “It’s not a punishment if you enjoy it.”

“Oh, so I’m still being punished, hmm?” you asked. “What could you possibly do that the big evil devil couldn’t?”

He seemed to tempted to smack you for that one, but he did refrain. Pity. You thought for sure that would work. But he grabbed your underwear and yanked it back up. You frowned, preparing your best pout. But he removed your shoes, socks, and jeans, confusing you a bit. Then the world flipped, rushing in a blinding whirl. You yelped, reaching for something to hold. You latched onto his shoulders as he moved you, situating you upright so you straddled one of his thighs.

“What’cha gonna do from there?” you asked, rocking against him. You made a pleased sound at the friction, so much better at this vantage. Castiel’s hands slid down your arms, resting atop your hands on his shoulders. He pressed them there, meeting your eye.

“I’m not doing anything,” he said. “You are.”

“What’s that?” you asked, grinning as you rocked your hips again. You expected a frustrated glance but he actually smiled a bit, very faint behind a serious expression.

“That,” he said. It took you a minute to understand.

“What, this?” you asked, rubbing against his thigh again. He nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “That.” His hands settled heavy over yours, locking them to his shoulders. Your heart beat a little faster, body hot all over, anticipating what was to come. You wanted to remove your tank-top and bra, suddenly sweltering beneath thin layers . (You wanted to remove your underwear too but that was for a completely different reason.) Castiel looked totally unaffected despite his multitude of layers.

“You have forty-five seconds,” he suddenly said, voice gruff, demanding. “If you cannot bring yourself to climax in that time then you won’t finish at all.”

“What?” You instinctively lifted your hands away—or at least tried. He held them to his shoulders and then he pressed his thigh against you, that little smile a definite smirk now.

“Forty-five,” he said, “forty-four, forty-three…”

“Can’t I take off my underwear at least?”

“No. Forty-two…”

You made it this far, you wouldn’t back down now. You were already so turned on, an orgasm couldn’t be too far off… even with the obvious disadvantages. You started rocking against him, a careful pace that turned a little harder. You ground against his thigh after a moment, starting to pant. He counted all the while. A faint sweat broke across your skin, little sounds breaking into your pants.

“Cas,” you groaned, “Cas, I don’t think—”

“Thirty-four, thirty-three…”

He sounded so casual, looking at you like this was easy and normal and he didn’t even care. You, on the other hand, ached. The stimulation was plenty but shy of what you needed. You probably left a wet streak on his thigh, and you felt almost ridiculous, humping him desperately, but you were so so close and also so so far.

“Cas… Castiel, please…”

“Twenty-one, nineteen…”

You made a louder noise, tipping your head back as you canted your hips. He slid one hand along your arm, teasing the skin until he traced the strap of your tank top. His hand went lower and then he palmed your breast, looking at your face and watching your contorted expression.

“Look at me,” he said. You didn’t even remember closing your eyes. You opened them again, whimpering and trying to angle yourself differently, moaning when you somewhat succeeded. You dropped your head between his shoulder and neck, panting disturbed when he squeezed your breast and made you mewl.

“Eleven, ten, nine…”

“No, no, no,” you pleaded, finally approaching that magnificent crest. You could feel it right there and you tried to reach it, not even caring if you sounded and looked ridiculous. His hands settled around your waist, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you practically wept into his shoulder.

“Five, four—”

“Castiel, please, I’m almost—I’m almost—”

“Three, two—”

“Cas,” you moaned raggedly, almost screeching when his grip tightened around your waist.

“One.”

You groaned, shaking your head as he grabbed your hips and lifted you. You bucked against the air. When you tried to lower your hands he grabbed them, holding your wrists together in one hand.

“No punishment seems to affect you more than your own loss,” he said, his other hand gently running over your shoulder, gesture sweet like you weren’t just grinding yourself against his thigh. “You can apologize instead,” he said. “Then I will let you finish what you started.”

You groaned, your body begging you to surrender and your mind refusing. Your mind won out, in the end. You shook your head, biting your lip. He sighed like this displeased him greatly but you just knew he relished in it.

“I hate you,” you grumbled, fidgeting in his grip.

“That would make it easier,” he said, a knowing look in his eye. He kept holding your wrists but his other hand slid down, cupping your wet heat. Still unbelievably sensitive, you tipped your head back and moaned a little. “This, I believe, expresses a different thought.”

“Hate you, hate you so much—”

“Do you?” He pushed your underwear aside, sliding his fingers against you. You groaned, thrusting down. He pat you like it was nothing then retracted his hand, lifting you away. You stood on shaky legs, grabbing at his hair when he released your hands. You tugged, frustrated sounds falling from your lips. He grabbed your underwear and yanked it down, then reached up from where he sat and tore your shirt right down the middle.

“Cas!”

He ignored you, peeling the shirt away. You let go of his hair to remove your own bra, tossing it aside before he could ruin it. Then he stood, reaching for his tie as he did so. Like the random hair-pulling, you didn’t really have a particular goal, but you swatted at his chest like it might relieve any tension. It didn’t. All it got you was Castiel ripping off his tie and reaching for you. You knew what he intended immediately and you broke away, yelping when he grabbed you and yanked you back.

“Foolish girl,” he growled in your ear, pulling you against him, your back to his front. You were a moaning, whimpering, naked mess, slumping against him as he bound your hands behind your back with his tie.

“For pity’s sake,” you spat, “this can’t still be about Lucifer.”

He tightened the fabric around your wrists, hands sliding roughly up your sides.

“Oh my god, come on!” You stomped your foot petulantly. “Cas, it was just a dream! You’re my stupid idiot boyfriend, not fake-flirty-Lucifer, you dumb fuck—”

You couldn’t help but smile when he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back.

It was probably clear by now—but god, you loved when he got like this. Two years since you got together and he could still work you over perfectly, playing every part to the letter. Halfway between innocently-ignorant-angel and warrior-of-heaven was your personal favourite.

“Apologize,” he demanded.

“For what?”

“Straying.”

“For the last time, it was just a—” Your retort ended with a squeak, Castiel slapping your rear. You grinned again. “I thought we were done with that. Wasn’t punishment enough, remember?”

He had you face-down on the bed in a second, stepping away long enough to open his belt. You made a high-pitched sound, looking back as he tugged it off. He gave you a dark, practiced look. Your needy sex was already begging again, fresh waves of heat pulsing everywhere.

“You think that’s punishment?” you laughed. “Oh, baby, hit me and see how that plan goes.”

Much to your displeasure, he tossed the belt aside, prying open his pants.

“Not tonight,” he said. “Tonight you’re begging. And apologizing.”

“I won’t. To either.”

He dropped down behind you, spreading your thighs and teasing his fingers against your folds. You bucked back, grunting, but he did not progress any action. Without removing any clothes, just lowering his pants and boxers a bit, he freed his hard cock and started to touch himself. You rubbed against him, sighing when he allowed the head of his cock to tease at your entrance.

“Teach me a lesson, then,” you said, “fuck me, go on.”

“Absolutely not. Apologize or fuck yourself.”

“I will not! This was your damn set-up!”

“Then you won’t be fucking anything.”

If this was anyone else, you could play chicken and just wait him out; he’d fuck you eventually. But this was Castiel. The body was human but he was not. While he could feel every pleasure it offered, he had a resolve far beyond your own. Groaning in defeat, you pressed back, awkwardly trying to move from your terrible position. He only helped a bit, pushing forward until he was completely inside you and then just staying there.

“Castiel…”

“Apologize.”

“For whaaaat?”

“Thinking of someone else when you know that is not your place.”

“Ugh, fine, it’s not—it’s not my place.” You made a low noise when he pulled back and thrust forward, stopping again.

“Why is not your place?” he asked.

“I—I—” you began, groaning when he grabbed your hair and yanked on it. “Because I’m yours, damnit—fucking—yours. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Good girl.”

“Oh, don’t patronize me.”

“You’re mine,” he said sharply, finally, finally starting to move his body. “I will do as I please.”

“If I’m a good girl, then, do I get to come?”

“No.”

If you had any protest, it was forgotten. He bore down on you, clearly tired of dialogue and dedicating his energy to fucking you until words were a mushy, unimportant thing. You pressed your cheek into the mattress, your already sore bottom half thrumming with pleasured pain as he pounded into you. It was before long that you felt him finishing, as he clearly didn’t feel any reason to restrain himself. Once he had finished, he let you go, letting you flop uselessly onto the bed as he retreated to fix his clothes.

“Well,” you muttered, “good thing I didn’t tell you about the dream with Dean Winchester.”

There was a moment of silence and then you heard him picking up the belt.

“You never learn, do you?” he asked.

You bit your lip to hide a smile.

“Nope.”

He smiled too, but it was quickly replaced with something darker—and you really couldn’t think about anything else after that.

castiel x reader masterpost

#castiel x reader #casreader #castiel x y/n #castiel imagine

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horsegirlcastiel · 5 years

Text

The Queer Eye/Supernatural crossover we all need.

“Family Don’t End In Blood”

Bobby: Makes over the bunker to make it feel more like a home. He gives Castiel a minimalist room so he can have some peace in a world that has been so cruel. There’s a bench at the foot of his bed that holds a bunch of super soft blankets so he can take them out when he just needs to feel a bit more human. He also secretly makes and stashes a notebook of photos he found of Cas and Dean under the blankets for Castiel to find on a rainy day. He gives Jack a room with lots of intellectually stimulating things and a cool video game set up. He gives Sam a room with an extra long bed and a bookcase for him to keep is favorites from the library on. He’s skeptical about Dean’s gun wall, but he keeps it there. He also gives Dean a wider bed and a shelf to display his family photos on.

“I’m no Angel”

Tan: Helps them find better suits for their undercover work and also gets Dean and Sam to invest in some new jackets and flannels that are cool and functional. He also gets them pants that fit well and some waterproof ones for when they have a mission in the forest. He makes them get new sturdy shoes too, Deans have literally been to purgatory and back and it’s time for a new pair. He convinces Castiel to get some new, colorful ties and two new trenchcoats. A black one for more formal occasions, and a super fashionable one, that Castiel chooses, maybe Burberry with a fun floral pattern, just for someday when he wants to express himself. Cas also gets a bee brooch that he puts on his lapel. It makes him smile.

“I swear I’m not domestic”

Antoni: Is sincerely impressed with Dean’s cooking skills and get’s a little domestic with Dean in the kitchen. Castiel glares at them cooking until he insists that he, Sam and Jack are the one’s who need to learn how to cook. Dean gets pushed out of the kitchen so he goes on a really quick grocery run (Karamo tags along) and comes back with the ingredients for Cas’ favourite meal, insisting he teach all of them, Antoni included, how to make it. He gets a little domestic with Cas. All is well. (JVN and Tan are fangirling in the corner as Dean helps Cas work on his whisking form)

“His name is Chuck.”

Jonathan: Jonathan is appalled with Dean’s hygiene and wonders how he has managed to keep himself healthy at all. Cas admits off to the side that he’s been secretly healing any of Dean’s cavities and other little things like that. Jonathan gives Dean an easy to keep up with routine and tells Jack to never take Dean’s advice on hygiene as he gives Jack a dope new haircut with short, clean sides and keeping the little swoosh he has up top. “Yas Gawd!!!!” Jack informs him very seriously that God’s name is actually Chuck, and he prefers being addressed as such, at least according to Dean and Sam and Castiel. He tries to mess with Sam’s hair, but after many protests, he just takes a little off the sides. I mean, he’s kind of obsessed with it, and Sam, and the whole lumberjack vibe he’s got. Whew chile. But after all, he can tell the Winchester’s don’t like personal change that much, their appearance isn’t the most important thing to them, and everything is already constantly changing around them.

“It’s okay to feel deeply.”

Karamo: Boy oh BOY is he in for a treat. Karamo just kind of stares at the four men in front of him while he analyzes their little habits while the other guys work their magic. They are all so broken. Karamo decides to go with Dean to the store during Antoni’s little cooking session to find out what’s going on. Eventually, Dean gets as close to a love confession for Cas as ever (“I just...I need him, you know?”) and Karamo convinces him to get ingredients for the aforementioned favourite meal. Karamo, sad to see Dean with tears welling in his eyes brings back the old “Dean, being vulnerable is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of strength. It shows that you are in tune with yourself. It’s okay to be open. It’s okay to feel deeply. It’s a gift to care so much.” In the parking lot of the grocery store, Dean finally breaks, “It..sucks to know how I feel...and to know Cas doesn’t...he doesn’t feel the same way us humans do, you know...” Karamo pulls Cas away from the group while Dean and Sam are debating Jonathan on changing Sammy’s hair. Cas confesses his love flat out for Dean, and for the Winchesters, and for Jack. Karamo asks if there is a difference between the love he has for Dean and the love he has for the mismatched family as a whole. “I would protect all of them with my life, but I’ve made it clear to Dean how I feel. We have a profound bond. Dean has not expressed to me that it is reciprocated.” Karamo cracks up and gives the angel a little advice “Dean doesn’t believe he’s worthy of your love, unless you’re explicit with your romantic feelings, he will keep on going, heart pining for you, but never allowing himself to take the next step. You know he has trust issues. He won’t fall in love, just to be let down again.” Cas had never thought of it that way. Next, Karamo talks to Sam and realizes how much Sam wants a normal happy life, for himself and for everyone around him. “Take some time for yourself every once in a while, pick up a new hobby that you can use to escape.” Karamo gets Sam a couple succulents to put in his room. “These are resilient, like you, like Dean, like all of you. It’s not like having a dog, who would probably need more attention than you can give right now, but these can be left alone for a long while, as long as you care deeply for them when you’re around. It’ll give you something to breathe life into.” Karamo talks to Jack about his own identity, being the son of Lucifer and all. “Ultimately Jack, you decide your future.” Jack smiles at the sentiment, though he’s still unsure it’s completely up to him.

At the end of the episode, Team Free Will 2.0 returns home and sees how amazing it is. There are little fairy lights up in some of the nooks and crannies, there are a few sayings on the walls (Carry On My Wayward Son etc.), a new record player with all of Dean’s favourites next to a new liquor cabinet, and a newly organized bookshelf from A-Z based on relevancy, content and usefulness (Sam geeks out a little bit at the new system). Dean smiles when he gets into his room, he appreciates a bed bigger than the usual motel ones, and he cries when he sees his family photos up on the shelf. While Dean traces the photos, Castiel excitedly opens the box at the foot of his bed in his own room down the hall. He loves the feel of the blankets, they remind him of clouds and flying and warmth and humanity. He gets to the bottom of the pile earlier than Bobby was anticipating, but he watches eagerly from the doorway anyways, hands up to his face with bated breath. Cas opens the notebook and sits back, breath hitching. It’s an intimate moment, so Bobby is a little shocked when Castiel closes the book so suddenly. (Bobby is kind of freaked out that he did something wrong so he slips away from the door before Cas can see him). Cas gets up pointedly and walks to Dean’s room. Dean is laying on the right side of the bed, holding a photo of his Dad and him and Sammy. Castiel hesitantly slips onto the bed and curls up behind Dean. Dean holds his breath for a second until Cas speaks “I love you, Dean Winchester.” He sinks into Cas’ grip and it feels like home. His “I love you too” is interrupted and affirmed by the Fab Five, Sam and Jack all jumping on top of them on the bed in glee.

The goodbyes are the worst part, Dean lets himself cry in front of the five, and the others follow suit. After a huge group hug, the Fab Five leaves, feeling like they did well.

“That’s Family”

Dean, Sam, Cas and Jack are always doing something big, so instead of sending a video of them hosting a party or inviting people over, they decide to send in an update that’s just about them, going about their daily lives. Sam proudly presents his succulents, he bought two new ones too, and named them all after his favourite authors. Jack shows them around his room and brags about how soft his skin is, even though Dean rolls his eyes at that. Dean makes them all a meal before a family movie night. Cass helps him out and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist as he sautees some mushrooms. Dean looks over his shoulder to kiss Cas, sweet and slow, in front of the Fab Five and the rest of the world he supposes. He smiles into the camera and winks “Thanks for having the foresight of a bigger bed, Bobby”

The final shot is of the four boys sitting on the couch in their living room, whiskey on the table in front of them, popcorn between all of them, Cas fit comfortably in Deans lap. They all smile and wave, throwing popcorn at the camera and dissolving into laughter “Thank you!”

The video cuts out and the entirety of the Fab Five are a fucking mess.

Yes, even Tan

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fandomoniumflurry · 5 years

Text

The Bodyguard

Castiel x Reader

for @spnfluffbingo Square Filled: Bodyguard AU

for @spnangstbingo Square Filled: Night Terrors

for @spngenrebingo Square Filled: Watching a movie

2300 words exactly. awkwardness, talk of a lack of sex life, a bit of a butt. angst fluff, nightmares, tears, snuggles. unbetad of course. ***Not my gif***

taggers: @becs-bunker @keepcalmimthecupcake @janai-mcgarrett @hunterswearingplaid @ambermei

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You were fast asleep, had been for a few hours now. Your head was buried in your softer than a cloud-pillow and you were nice and cozy warm under your down filled comforter. The room was not too warm but not too cold either, just the way you liked it. You were spoiled, you knew that but you liked to think you weren’t a brat. The maids, drivers and bodyguards were always nice and helpful so you had no reason to be cruel or act like a diva. Your father paid them all well and though they worked for you, you liked to think they cared about you as well. It wasn’t much to ask for that those you spend most of your days with to at least tolerate you.

Really it was only on man whose opinion mattered to you. He had been in employ for your family for as long as you could remember. Though he swears it's only been ten years, you couldn’t remember a time without him. He was your own personal bodyguard, had been for three years now, ever since your eighteenth birthday. Your father said it was because an adult woman like you needed a more experienced and skilled bodyguard, someone that could keep up with you and hold more power of you. And that he did.

He was in complete control of your entire life pretty much. You couldn’t go anywhere without him and whatever plans you made had to go through him first. He held all the keys to all the locks, knew and changed all the codes on all the security systems and computers, knew all your friends by name and social security number, knew all your favorite hangouts and the owners and their information.

He was nothing less than thorough. He was the best at his job, firm, confident, domineering. And yet he was the sweetest most awkward nerdy man you had ever met. There were a few times you had gotten to see the ream man, the guy behind the trenchcoat and earpiece. He never truly let his guard down, something he learned from the military you figured. You weren’t sure what branch or where he served, he never really talked about it. It must have been traumatic because whenever the service was mentioned, he’d get this look in his eyes. Like a heavy weight of sorrow and guilt fell from the sky and landed on his heart.

You never asked but after a couple of drinks, he loosened up ever so slightly and you wouldn’t deny him if he spoke about things. Those times weren’t often. He didn’t drink much, didn’t like to be inhibited by anything that would make him lax in his duties. Protecting you was his life and he took it very seriously even though he thought you did not.

Castiel was at least twenty years your senior, an experienced veteran and trained killer. He was methodical and all business. And yet you hungered for those moments when you got to see just how clumsy he actually was. The sound of his laughter was something you longed for and the sight of his smile was enough to melt your heart. You respected him, obeyed him, cared about him and you couldn’t help but feel that you were just another job to him.

He still refused to open up, refused to let you in, wouldn’t talk to you as a real person instead of some precious artifact he was deemed to watch over. Now as you laid in your bed, like most nights, you dreamed of the tall blue eyed man. He was untouchable, forbidden and that only made him more desirable. He was oblivious to any of your flirtations and dumb to your obvious hints and forward come ons. Either he was ignoring your advances or he was just terribly dense. You hoped for the latter. Your past bodyguards were stuffy security men, noticeable and intimidating, for good reason. You never really cared about them, you were more afraid of them. There has never been anyone like Cas.

Not that Cas blended in. He stuck out like a sore thumb everywhere you went. The stiff soldier man in a dark suit, crooked tie and trench coat just standing there watching people, staring with those intense cerulean hues. He exuded dominance and was nothing but intimidating. Which made your love life quite difficult. The ebony haired man scared off the bravest of men, even making a grown man cry once when the guy dared to try and cop a feel. At least he didn’t end up with a broken nose like the guy that cornered you when you came out of the bathroom one night at a club.

These acts of masculinity could be misconstrued as jealousy or possessiveness but really it was starting to put a damper on your sex life. It was like all the guys that had a run in with your bodyguard told all their guy friends who told all their guy friends until no one would even dare to look at you. This also didn’t help your attraction to the older man, your lack of physical and emotional connection to another person only drew you to him. And so you would have to survive on wet dreams and fluffy daydreams to get you by.

Your father would probably find you a husband one day. Marry you off to the highest bidder and send you to a new kingdom where you’ll have new servants and a new bodyguard. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. Until then, well, hopefully you didn’t jump Mr. tall, dark and dreamy’s bones who was asleep in the room just across the hall.

He always went to bed so much later than you did, going around and checking all the windows, closets, making sure all the doors were locked and all the gates were secure. He went the extra mile every night to make sure you were safe. And right before he’d go to bed, he’d stop by your room, pop his head in just to check on you one last time and smile when he saw you sleeping or at least pretending to sleep before going to his room. You could never understand how he functioned on so little sleep. Late to bed and he would rise early to do the same process all over again before you woke up.

Not to mention the nightmares that woke him up and kept him up from time to time. He never spoke of them and would apologize for waking you but after hearing his cries and screams, it was hard for you to go back to sleep after that. You would offer to stay up with him but he would always just grin with a shake of his head. “Not that you need it, but you’ve got to get your beauty rest.”

A blush would form on your cheeks and you could see his own face turn slightly pink as well before saying goodnight. That was the only time he ever flirted, just that same one line over and over and yet it never failed to work on you.

Just like the other nights, the sounds of soft murmurs woke you from your slumber. You grumbled as you rolled over. Seeing the clock only seemed to make you even crankier. You had an exam in the morning and the last thing you wanted to be was sleep deprived. Listening closer, the mumbling in the distance sounded hoarse and strangled. You held your breath for a second so you could hear without interruption and that's when the mumbles turned into cries.

No time was wasted as you threw off your blanket and your bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor. With no thought of your present state, you flew open the door and sprinted across the hall. Cries turned to screams and you could hear him thrashing as you desperately pounded on the door, calling his name. Tears began to slide down your face as you waited, feeling useless standing outside his door and no way to get to him.

This was the worse you had ever heard and your heart ached for him. His night terrors were the only weakness you knew of, the one thing that could cripple the strong pillar of a man. You were sobbing, your forehead resting against the door as you continued to knock. The commotion began to quiet and his noises began to soften.

“Castiel.” You whispered softly in hopes that this meant he was waking up. A few moments of silence left you waiting with bated breath. You heart threatened to rip open your chest.

The sound of the lock turning made your whole body turn to jelly and you couldn’t help but fall into Cas’s arms when the door finally opened. He seemed startled by your appearance but as you cried into his shoulder and your arms squeezed around him, he couldn’t help but let his arms wrap around you. His face was buried in your hair, his breathing slowing the longer he breathed you in.

He was damp with sweat, hair mussed and clothes askew. You could see the bed over his shoulder through your tear blurred eyes, blankets and sheets strewn every which way, nearly bare from all of his thrashing. “Cas?” You whispered into the cushiony fabric of his gray tshirt. A shaky exhale parted his lips and it sent a shiver down your spine when his warm breath wafted across your neck.

Your hand rose to run through his hair and he seemed to further relax into your touch. He was crying, you could feel it in the faint quake of his body. Pulling back to look up at him, you placed your hands on his stubbled and sodden cheeks. Your thumbs stroked across the rough hairs, wiping away sweat and tears as they went. A soft smile played on your lips in an attempt to comfort the wounded man that held you in his arms.

You didn’t expect him to talk about it, you wouldn’t ask such a thing of him. But you did want to make sure he knew you were here for him no matter what he needed. After a moment of just staring at one another, he finally smile. It wasn’t a full smile but it was enough to bring out those adorable crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

Without a word, you slid your hand into his and turned to walk the two of you out of the room. He was puzzled for a moment, his head tilting to the side as you pulled him across the hall. He finally paused when you passed the threshold to your room.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his brow furrowed in the cutest way that always reminded you of a curious kitten. You giggled at the thought and that only added to his confusion.

You grabbed his hand with both of yours this time and tugged gently. “We both know that neither of us are going back to sleep anytime soon. So we are gonna watch a movie.” Your smile beamed and he couldn’t help but smile back, shaking his head as he gave into your demands. “Lay on the bed.” You pointed towards the pink and frilly four post canopy bed and nearly burst out laughing when you caught his sour face. “Oh, come on. The frills won’t make you any less of a man, Rambo.” You shoved him gently and he laughed and did as you said, climbing in while you moved toward the TV.

“Rom-com?” You asked as you pulled out a couple of your favorite DVDs from the cabinet from below your television. Unbeknownst to you, this action gave the bodyguard quite the show of your behind in your silky night shorts. When you turned around to look at him, the redness in his face made you realize your mistake. “Oh my, God!” Quickly you ran for the closet, closing yourself in hoping you would die from your embarrassment.

You could hear Castiel chuckling before you heard his bare feet padding across the floor. You hid your face, your knees pulled to your chest as you were curled up on the floor when the door opened. “I am SO sorry. I didn’t think-I didn’t mean- oh my, God, how humiliating.” You muttered as tears stung your eyes. But you weren’t given the time to start crying before two strong arms scooped you up and carried you out of the closet.

You squealed when he tossed you on the bed and actually giggled as you tumbled a bit on the firm pillowtop mattress. He pulled a movie blindly from your grasp and swiftly pushed it into the player before joining you on the bed again. “Oh, I like this one.” He stated factually as he folded his hands over his stomach, smiling with his full focus on the movie.

The activities of the night must have made you bold because you moved over to form yourself against him. His body grew taut for a moment, making you fear that you had made a mistake. When you went to move away, his arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer. You sighed contentedly, fitting perfectly against his lean frame. Your hand moved to rest on his stomach and he didn’t hesitate to slip his fingers between yours.

You could have sworn You stopped breathing when he placed a kiss into your hair. “Thank you.” And that’s all that was said before you clung tighter to him and he to you. As the movie played, the two of you drifted off in each other’s arms before it even ended.

#spnangstbingo #spnfluffbingo #spngenrebingo #bodyguard au #night terrors #watching a movie #spn #supernatural #castiel #castiel x reader #cas x you #cas #bodyguard!cas #angst #fluff #au #spn au

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the-witch-and-her-husbands · 6 years

Text

The Rain, Rain, Rain Came Down, Down, Down

‘I don’t like the looks of that sky.’ Castiel grumbled as he pulled the collar of his trenchcoat up around his face. Black clouds loomed overhead, looking heavy and threatening. The branches at the very tops of the trees in the forest bent in the wind that was beginning to pick up.

Flip turned to smile at him over her shoulder as she fluttered just slightly ahead of him. ‘You worry too much, Poindexter. It isn’t much further now, and its the perfect spot for a picnic. You’ll see.’ The Fairy’s tone was full of affection, her light shimmering brightly in the gathering gloom as she led the Angel on to the destination she had in mind for their date.

Cas tried not to grumble as he trailed along behind his love, shifting the picnic basket she had packed from one hand to the other. He’d watched, fascinated, as she’d loaded it with warm, crusty bread, fragrant sharp cheddar, grapes, canapés, and a bottle of Malbec. All the ingredients for a romantic picnic in a forest glade where they could escape from the demands of their callings, if only for a little while. ‘Did you pack the vial?’ He meant the one that she gave him so that he could partake of the food and enjoy it, without tasting the individual molecules.

‘Don’t I always?’ She fluttered back to toss an acorn at his ear, laughing all the while.

He wasn’t trained in combat for nothing, so he was able to reach out and grab the projectile as a matter of reflex, without even giving it conscious thought. But when she wasn’t looking, he slipped it into an inner pocket of his coat where he kept all such little mementos: a napkin from the restaurant that they’d attended with their friends Jilomena and the Metatron that comprised their first date, the Valentine’s card she’d given him, and now a little souvenir from their picnic.

Heightened senses detected a drop of moisture falling from the sky, but he chose not to comment on it. ‘Are we much further?’ he asked instead.

‘Nope. We’re here.’ She led him through a gap in the trees. Suddenly, they were standing in a clearing perhaps only some twenty or thirty feet in diameter, completely surrounded by a ring of trees. A fairy ring, some might say, and they would be correct. The branches of the surrounding trees seemed to touch, forming a canopy at the edges, though the middle was completely open to the sky. A perfect place for a couple to have some privacy: to cuddle on a blanket and feed each other treats, to be outdoors in the fresh air and yet to be as excluded as to feel that they were the earth’s last inhabitants, and to get lost in each other’s eyes.

‘Good.’ He put the picnic basket down and looked at her, waiting for some indication as to how one should behave on a romantic outing.

Flip instantly grew up to her full size, so that their heights were matched. The better to kiss him with, of course. She stepped close, tilting her head and leaning towards him as if going in for such a kiss, but stopping just short. Instead, she walked around him slowly, trailing a fingertip along his chest and shoulders, skirting over the wings only she could see as she circled him teasingly.

Cas frowned with confusion - what was she doing?! His eyes followed her as best he could as she walked around him, turning his head this way and that to follow the path she was taking. It was clear as he watched her that he was pining, pining for the beautiful woman that was circling him as if he were a sort of prey. And just when he thought that he could stand it no more, she finally brought her lips to his.

The heavens opened.

He was so involved in the kiss that he forgot to say, I told you so. The deluge was such that they couldn’t ignore it for long, as within seconds they were both soaked to the skin.

‘Nuts,’ Flip muttered. ‘There goes our picnic. I suppose we’d better get home and change into something warm and dry, ne?’ Cas merely nodded, still slightly befuddled from the taste of her. She quickly summoned up a portal, and before the Angel could react, she pushed him through to the other side.

The sound of a tinkling giggle and the faint jingling of wings met his ears as he passed through to the other side.

Soon they were standing in the living room of Flip’s London hideaway. A twirl of her wrist summoned up some fresh, dry clothes and fluffy white towels. ‘Here you go. I’ll turn my back and won’t look.’ She chuckled as she threw one of the towels at him, then turned away to sort herself out. ‘Well. What do you suppose we should do now?’ she enquired as she dried her hair with the towel.

‘We could always...listen to some music,’ Cas suggested slowly as he thought. ‘Maybe we could...have a dance? Something romantic. It would be good practice for the party that will follow the Bonding of Jilomena and the Metatron, so that I don’t embarrass myself.’

‘You hopeless romantic, you. You’ve been spending too much time around Jil.’ Flip pretended to tut as she looked over her shoulder at him, but she was only teasing.

‘It was a mere suggestion. I thought it might be a nice thing to do. We don’t have to dance.’ Cas was barely audible as he replied.

‘Oh, come here, Casserole.’ He looked slightly hurt, which she couldn’t bear to see. She held out her hands to him, inviting him to step forward and lead. ‘It’s been a hot minute since I had a good twirl ‘round the dance floor.’

The corner of his lips twitched into a slight smile as he stepped forward and took her hands in his. The Wireless on the table coughed itself into life, and they were away, moving in circles around Flip’s living room.

It wasn’t exactly the waltz or a tango, which their blonde witchy friend would have considered more suitable for a date night dance, but the moderate jive they settled into suited them just fine.

The smile on Castiel’s face slowly grew as he watched Flip’s hair flow outwards as she spun under his arm, her face alight with laughter and delight. Daringly, he pulled her closer, their bodies touching as they moved together.

‘You’re getting bolshy in your old age,’ Flip teased as she looked into her lover’s eyes.

Cas nodded, never looking away from her. ‘I’m only just getting started....’

@ask-flip-frost

#On the Wings of Love - Casip

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there-must-be-a-lock · 7 years

Text

Of Bullets and Big Buck Hunter

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: Language, as always, but this one is pretty tame.

Written for @reigningqueenofwords Aim to Misbehave challenge! Thanks for letting me participate in this :) love me some Firefly. My prompt was “Well, we may not have parted on the best of terms. I realize certain words were exchanged. Also, certain… bullets.”

“The usual?” Katie asks, before you can even flop down onto your stool.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” you say. “How’s your momma doin’? Any better today?”

“Oh, you know,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Long day?”

“You could say that,” you grimace. You’ve spent it working on a murder case, a fucking grisly one, which is not a normal thing for your tiny town, but Katie doesn’t need to know anything about that. She slides you a Jameson and ginger and you take a grateful sip.

Katie’s wiggling her eyebrows in a way that should maybe be meaningful, but mostly just looks like a seizure.

“What?” you ask. She jerks her head to the side a couple times, then raises her eyebrows and looks pointedly next to you, and you turn and look, which turns out to be a total mistake, because your mouth drops open a bit and you’re afraid your eyes are bugging out like a cartoon character. You get an impression of jaw and stubble and cheekbones, and then he’s turning to look at you. His eyes are green and gold and gorgeous, and you are 100% staring, shit.

“Hey,” he says, and his tongue flicks out over his lower lip.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Sam,” he says. The hand he holds out for you to shake is strong and rough, and you never knew you had a thing for hands but this particular hand makes you feel feverish in a really nice way.

You manage to croak out your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “You live around here?” He has dimples. Like cute little Shirley Temple dimples.

“Yup, born and raised,” you say, sorta wishing it wasn’t true. “How about you?”

“Just passing through,” he says, and you try to fight your disappointment. “My brother and I travel a lot. Here for business.”

“What do you do?”

“We’re hunters,” he says. You get the distinct impression you’re being lied to, because who the fuck makes a living as a hunter, but you don’t press it.

“Bet I can still beat you at Big Buck Hunter,” you say. He grins.

You win the first game, which is sort of a miracle, because you’re so distracted by him you can barely think straight. He’s just so tall, and he smells fucking great, and it’s sorta just not fair how attractive he is. On top of all that, he’s funny, and every time you laugh, he smiles like he’s proud of himself, and his dimples do a thing.

“I’ll get another round if you’ll give me another chance,” he says. His eyes are sparkling. So you dig up some change, and Sam orders more drinks. As soon as his back is turned Katie gives you a thumbs up. You’re just mentally high-fiving yourself for not doing anything too stupid yet.

You get your ass handed to you in the second game, which doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Maybe he wasn’t lying about being a hunter. He definitely knows his way around a gun, even a little plastic gun that looks flimsy and ridiculous set against his broad shoulder; there’s something kinda scary about how capable his hands look.

“I guess we need to have a tiebreaker,” he says.

“I’ll get drinks,” you say. He’s looking at you, smiling, with his head tilted, like the world’s sexiest puppy.

You’re halfway to the bar when you hear the rumblings of a fight about to break out: an indignant, “Hey, man!” and what sounds like a whole bunch of macho bullshit. You turn around with a sigh. Sure enough, it’s two of your regulars, guys you’ve had to book for public intoxication (and, in one case, urinating in the public park’s sandbox, which...gross) on more than one occasion.

To your surprise, Sam’s making a beeline for the little cluster of men.

“Trust me, you don’t want to do this,” you hear one of them saying, a stranger, but then he gives Sam a look, and you realize this must be his brother. He looks familiar in a way that’s going to make you crazy if you think about it too much.

“Hey!” you bark from across the room. Craig and Turner’s heads turn to you, fast, and you give them your Scary Cop face. Turner mumbles something, but they’re backing down, walking away. Good. Sam gives you a quizzical look. You realize it must look funny, those two slinking away from little old you, and you smile to yourself.

Sam and his brother have a quick, muttered conversation, and then Sam starts walking back to you. He’s frowning.

“My brother wants to go,” he says. You’re pretty sure you’re not imagining the regret on his face, which is all sorts of flattering.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” you say.

“I, uh-” he starts, and the way he shifts his weight and shoves his hands into his pockets is 100% adorable. “I’ll be around for another night or two. Rain check on the tiebreaker?”

“Yeah,” you grin. He programs your number into his phone, and smiles at you over his shoulder as they’re leaving. You wonder if you’re blushing in a cute, delicate sorta way or in a tomato sort of way. Probably the latter.

------

You’ve been at work for exactly one hour, and you are ready to scream. You’re pretty sure your head is going to explode. And sure, you stayed out a little too late last night, what with the gorgeous stranger who got your number!!!, but that gorgeous stranger is honestly the only good thing in your entire life at the moment. All hell seems to have broken loose, because nobody can make head or tail of this murder case, and you’ve spent the morning wading through paperwork.

At this point you might not even be mad if your head exploded. Maybe then it’d hurt less.

“...FBI,” comes a low, familiar voice from outside your office. You half-hear an exchange that sounds like even more paperwork headed your way, and then there’s a knock on your doorframe.

“Come in,” you say absently, still absorbed in the form you’re filling out, trying to figure out how exactly to describe the way the victim’s heart was ripped out without sounding like a complete psycho. You hear the door click closed, and you look up.

Sam. Sam wearing a suit. And yeah, okay, that’s definitely the best thing you’ve seen all week, but what the fuck are Sam and his suit and his ridiculously attractive face doing in your office?

And then you look next to Sam, at the man you assume is his brother, and you do a double take. He looks so damn familiar. You can’t place his face, and now you’ve been staring for a couple seconds too long...but he’s staring at you the same way, brow furrowed over bright green eyes (yeah, you notice his eyes, because apparently the gorgeous gene just runs in the family) and your headache intensifies.

“Shit,” the brother says suddenly, his face draining of all color, and just as suddenly, you remember.

“Hands up,” you say, and you have your gun trained on him before he can blink. “Put your hands up where I can see them.”

Sam is looking from you to his brother and back again, completely mystified.

“Dean? Do you guys know each other?” he says. And then, to you, “You’re a cop? Why didn’t you tell me you’re a cop?”

“First of all,” you say, through gritted teeth, “I didn’t not tell you. You didn’t ask. Second, your brother is about to be under all sorts of arrest, so I’d suggest shutting up.”

“I can explain-” Dean says.

“Dean, please explain why the pretty cop is pointing her gun at you,” Sam says, with the bitchiest bitchface you’ve seen this year and the tone of someone talking to a very slow toddler.

“Well, we may not have parted on the best of terms. I realize certain words were exchanged. Also, certain… bullets,” Dean says gingerly.

“You shot her?” Sam asks.

“No, I shot him,” you say. You can’t really help the note of pride that creeps into your voice. It had been a good shot, even if it had (obviously) not done its job.

“I was a demon,” Dean says, as if that explains everything. Sam rolls his eyes. You shake your head, trying to clear your ears, because you can’t have heard that right.

“Come again?”

“I think we need to have a conversation,” Sam sighs, and you give him your best “no shit” look. “I promise, we can explain everything. Here, you can handcuff Dean to the chair, if that’ll make you feel better, just give me a chance.” Dean glares at him, but sits down slowly with his hands raised. He doesn’t struggle when you cuff him.

You train your gun on Sam instead, and he winces, but also looks a little impressed.

“Talk.”

“Okay, so...we’re not exactly FBI agents.”

“No shit.”

“Well, what I told you at the bar last night...that was true. We’re hunters. Except we don’t hunt deer, we hunt monsters.”

You blink at him silently a few times.

“Ghosts are real. So are vampires, ghouls, all sorts of monsters you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Why in hell should I believe you?” you finally ask.

“You’ve had some unusual deaths in the last week, right?” Sam asks. Your head is spinning, but you manage to nod. “We’re investigating those. We think it was a werewolf.”

You look from Sam to Dean and then up to the ceiling, saying a silent prayer: whoever is out there, please save me from these raving motherfucking lunatics, amen.

“Hey, Cas, I think someone is praying to you,” Dean says with a little smirk.

And then, without any warning, there’s a man in a trenchcoat standing in your office, and it’s only because of years of training that you manage not to scream. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“What did you do this time, Dean?” the man asks, eyeing him impatiently.

“Dude, seriously? She’s freaked enough,” Sam says. Dean looks smug, like this might be retaliation for shooting him and handcuffing him to a chair.

“This is our friend Castiel,” Dean says. “He’s an angel. Angels are also real. Proof enough?”

Castiel raises a hand awkwardly. “Hi. I’m sorry for startling you.”

“Huh,” you say. It comes out all weak and shaky.

“Dean, try not to be such an asshole,” Castiel says. He rolls his eyes and vanishes.

“You’re taking this really well,” Sam says. In spite of everything, the warmth in his voice sends a rogue butterfly flapping through your stomach.

“Your brother is a demon.”

“Was!” Dean corrects.

“Your brother was a demon,” you say to Sam. He nods encouragingly. “Now he’s not?” He nods again.

“I promise, the thing you met was not Dean,” he says. “If you shot him now, he’d die.”

“Let’s not test that theory, though,” Dean says hurriedly. “You saw my eyes, right?”

“Black,” you croak.

“Yeah. That’s what demons look like,” Sam says. You stare at him stupidly.

The truth is, it makes entirely too much sense, and in spite of yourself, you’re starting to believe him. You’d always wondered about those creepy-ass eyes...and about the round you’d put right through Dean’s heart, which didn’t even slow him down.

“We can help you find the werewolf. We’re sorta experts.”

You squeeze your eyes closed for a moment.

“I need a second. Or, like, a thousand seconds.”

“As long as you need,” Sam says. His voice is like goddamn velvet.

“If you guys can help with the murders-” you say slowly, and you’re hearing your own voice as if it’s far far away, and you really can’t believe what you’re saying, but- “then yeah, we could use your help. The deputy out there can show you around.”

Both of them make near-identical expressions of shock, and for a moment it’s incredibly obvious that they’re brothers.

“Seriously?” Dean asks. You shrug.

“Explains some of the shit I’ve seen,” you say.

Sam is grinning at you, looking like he just won the lottery or some shit. “You...took that well,” he says, pushing his hair behind his ears nervously.

“I’m pretty sure I’m insane and so are you,” you say evenly. “But it’s worth a shot, right?”

“We won’t let ya down,” Dean says. “Can I be uncuffed now?”

Sam watches you fiddle with the key. “Are you going to come with us? Show us the scene?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “I told you, I need a second. And possibly a Klonopin.”

He looks disappointed.

Dean bolts the second he’s uncuffed, saying, “See you at the car, Sammy.” He seems like he wants to be as far away from you as physically possible.

Sam lingers, pausing at the door.

“Do you still want to get a drink later?” he asks tentatively.

“Do you still want to get a drink with me?” you ask, more than a little surprised. “I mean, I shot your brother...”

“Honestly? That makes me like you more,” he says, and those dimples are on full display. “I’m sure he deserved it.”

You’re grinning, and probably blushing like a tomato again. He seems to have that effect on you.

“He did,” you say. “And I’ll definitely need a drink, the way this day is going.”

“See you later, then.” He smiles at you one last time and leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

You collapse into your desk chair and take a couple deep breaths.

Demons are real. A cute guy wants to take you out.

The world is a strange place.

Sequel is HERE.

#aimtomisbehave #aim to misbehave #supernatural #fanfiction #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction

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samwinlover-blog · 7 years

Text

Penny For A Cup

Pairing: Sam x Reader Characters: Sam, Reader, Dean Warnings: fluff, light swearing, little bit of angst, businessman!Sam, barista!reader, coffee shop AU Summary: The reader owns a little coffee shop in New York city called, The Manhattan Mocha, and Sam Winchester is a frequent costumer of hers. She’s always had a slight crush on the sharp business man who comes in for coffee everyday, and has even memorized his order: black coffee, double shot of expresso- intriguing and mysterious just as he is. Tag List: @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove @evyiione@mogaruke @aliensdeservebetter @spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione@mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove @spectaculicious@bambinovak@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@padackles2010@mamaredd123@milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat@spntrista @d-s-winchester@just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride@waywardjoy@supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44@fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage@evyiione @winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke @therewillbeblood@megansescape @taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester@notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@lovekittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137

Masterlist Here!

*I work very hard on these fics and feedback is very much appreciated*

“Morning, (Y/N)!” You hear a string of your coworkers call as you walk through the front door, the jingle of its bell ringing through the shop. Looking past the counter where you’d start working in a few minutes, your eyes found a home on the blackboard above- and your shop’s name written in an exquisite cursive in the center.

The Manhattan Mocha, aka your manifestation of a dream you’d had since middle school- to own your own coffee shop. Originally you’d come to New York to go to law school- Cornell, actually- but two years in you took a look at your life and found that you hated it. The same morning you realized that even if you made it through school, the pencil pushing would never end, so you’d decided to make a change. You’d given it all up, your degree, your spot at one of the nation’s top schools, and the future financial stability you craved.

The first few months after dropping out were tough, and you had next to no money. You’d flown through odd jobs until you’d found one you loved: being a barista. It had been a childhood dream of yours to own your own coffee shop one day, but it had always been pushed aside, being as the coffee industry wasn’t exactly lucrative.

You started out working at Cup ‘O Joe, just sweeping and clearing out tables. But over time you’d worked your way up the ranks, until you were pretty much running the place. That’s when the idea first came to you: if you were doing so well at Cup ‘O Joe, then why not own your own place?

At first you hadn’t flat out quit your job, but you’d gone from full time to part time and really threw yourself into the mix. After a few weeks you’d already bought your own store front, and with the help of your roommates you had the interior set up in no time.

Decorating had been the highlight of your week, and you’d absolutely adored crafting centerpieces or message boards for the shops interior. When you were finished, it was one of the proudest moments of your life. Everywhere you looked, you fell in love with what you saw, and all that was left to do was open for business.

You didn’t know if it was because of the location, or just the time of year, but everything started off with a bang. Within no time people were lining up to buy your coffee and assorted breakfast items, and you quickly got “regulars”. Honestly, dropping out of law school had been the best decision of your life, and everything felt really complete for about a year after you first opened the Manhattan Mocha.

That was until your little brother died suddenly.

Apparently he’d had a rare blood disorder that had gone unnoticed for most of his life, until it eventually killed him. Only two years younger than you, Noah died at the age of 20 with so much more of his life left to live- and it had broken your heart.

When you first heard the news you didn’t believe it, and went on that way for a few days until it finally sunk in. You’d been wild: fits of rage plagued your days and you couldn’t stop wondering why something as trivial as his doctor’s neglect had taken Noah away from you. Over time and a lot of trial and error, your wounds eventually healed and you got your life back on track. But you never went back to the person you were before he’d died, and sometimes you’d wonder if you would ever be able to.

When you first walked into your shop, you waved hello to a few of the early birds and immediately got to work. Putting on your apron and giving your best friend Alisha, who owned the store along with you and two other friends, you started the coffees of your regulars who would be in at any moment.

You and Alisha had your own system, and, working in tandem, you effectively brewed, foamed, drizzled and served up coffee along with various breakfast items.

About 20 minutes into the morning, when the store hit its first lull after most of your customers had gone to work, Alisha approached you with a wink, “So, did you talk to lover boy today?”

She was referring to Sam, the mysterious man who showed up everyday at 8 to order his coffee. With either a witty remark or a sweet comment to you, he’d always take his drink to go and wave goodbye, usually shouting, “See you tomorrow!” over his shoulder.

He’d been one of your regulars ever since the store first opened, and you’d always had a secret crush on him. You didn’t know if it was the freshly ironed suit he always wore or his unearthly good looks, but it was fair to say that you were smitten.

He hadn’t shown up that morning though, which was unusual for Sam. From the outwardly impressions you got of him, he seemed like a pretty punctual person: arriving and leaving at the same time almost everyday.

But the clock hanging above the front door read 8:15 and he still hadn’t shown, maybe he was sick?

Looking over, you saw Alisha was smirking and shimmying her shoulders at you from across the bar, you just shook your head and groaned in response, “He’s definitely not ‘lover boy’, and no I haven’t- he probably isn’t coming today.”

She sauntered over to the counter you were sitting on and started twirling her dish towel around in the air, “You should give him your number the next time you see him!”

You just rolled your eyes but she pressed on, “Seriously! Oh! Or write a pick up line on his coffee- I did that with Mark and it totally worked!”

“Oh yeah- which one was Mark again? The one with the tattoo of his mother or the one who was actually living out of his car?” You quipped back, earning a slap across the arm with her dish towel- thank God it wasn’t wet.

“Hey! No fair-” She yelled and would have started to attack you more, but she was interrupted by the familiar jingle of the front door’s bell- which meant a customer had arrived.

You immediately straightened out and plastered a smile across your face, the one you usually donned when interacting with customers. But when you saw who it was, you relaxed and resumed your previous stance: it was Sam.

He rushed through the door and up to the counter where you were lounging, his hair unkept and his tie definitely not on correctly, “Hey! Um, black coffee, double shot of espresso to go please!”

You nodded and turned to start making it, but Alisha was already there, giving her her famous go-talk-to-him-or-I’ll-kill-you look. So, taking a deep breath, you whirled back around to face him and said, “In a hurry?”

“It’s no rush! I’m just pretty late to work, my alarm didn’t go off,” Sam smiled and shifted anxiously on his feet, you could tell he didn’t like not being on time.

You didn’t know what it was, but you suddenly felt pretty bold. So, with nobody in the store but Sam and Alisha to judge you, you leaned over the counter and said, “Come here, your ties pretty crooked!” with a small laugh.

“Oh, thanks!” He turned slightly pink before taking a step closer so you could reach him. The tie was smooth in your hands as you looped your fingers around it, going over and under until it was tied nicely.

“Couldn’t have tied it better myself,” Sam gave you a small smirk before running his hands through his hair, “How’s my hair looking?”

You felt yourself starting to laugh, and you couldn’t repress the giggle that came out as you responded, “Pretty wild,”

“Can you fix that too?” He grinned, taking one more step closer so there were only inches separating the two of you.

You reached up and ran your fingers through the hair you’d been admiring for months, shuffling it back and forth into it’s usual neat arrangement. After about a minute of you fixing and re-fixing his locks you finally took a step back and huffed, “Alright, looking good!”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get whatever he was about to say out, Alisha bounded over- his piping hot coffee in her hand, “Here you are, that would be 3.67, please!”

“Of course, here,” He reached into his wallet and handed you a five, before turning to you and grinning, “Thanks for the help, I owe you one!”

You just smiled in return and went to give him his change, but when you looked up the bell had already jingled and he was gone.

“Looks like he doesn’t want his 2.33 back!” You said, turning to Alisha, who had her hand to her mouth in disbelief at how flirty the two of you had been.

“Oh my GOD, (Y/N)! He’s so into you!” She squealed and did a twirl around the edge of the counter, to which you only rolled your eyes and blushed.

You weren’t going to get your hopes up, he probably had a girlfriend. But that was before you went to put the 5$ in the register and saw what he’d written on the back:

Call me sometime! We could get coffee together, no just kidding, we could get something else though! 978-345-7789 - Sam Winchester

You dropped the bill and watched it float to the ground as you stood there in disbelief, “ALISHA, OMG LOOK!”

“What?” She propped herself up from the other side of the counter and peered over the edge, her eyes landing on the five you’d dropped.

When she saw the note he’d written on the back in bold, black sharpie, her face lit up, “(Y/N) OH MY GOD! You have to call! You have to call!”

175 notes · View notes

xbooksandtea · 7 years

Text

"Welcome Home, Cas."

Author: xbooksandtea

Pairing: Destiel

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1.665

Genre: hurt/comfort, reunion, lots of fluff

Time Line: Takes place after the events of 12x23

Links: Read on ao3

“Cas,” he whispered, and he was able to hear the blood rushing through the veins in his ears. Shimmering lights were dancing at the corners of his vision. His skin felt both burning hot and ice cold at the same time, the way he imagined it would feel if you dove into a pool while someone branded you with a burning claw – the way that left scars.

His breath shuddered painfully inside his lungs as he stumbled a few steps forwards, just to stop again to hold onto a chair. He could feel the wooden edges cut into his skin and his knuckles were trembling underneath white skin. But he didn’t dare to let go yet.

“Sa– Sammy,” he called, his voice more husky than he had though – or hoped – it would be. He was barely able to hear the rustling from the kitchen when Sam walked over, leaning into the door frame.

“Dean, what’s going on– oh.” Sam froze right where he was standing when he finally realized.

It was nobody but Cas who had knocked his brother out, of course it was him – nobody else had been able to attract any reaction at all from Dean anymore. Not even Sam himself. And he understood why, and it was okay, because Sam knew what it was like to see the person you love die.

It was Cas.

“You seein’ him too?” Dean forcibly spit the words out.

He hadn’t told Sam about the hallucinations. He hadn’t told him when Cas had rejected him in purgatory, and he hadn’t told him now, either. He was too weak like that. Too vulnerable. It was probably the most vulnerable he had ever been. All because of some shabby broken angel in a dirty trenchcoat, and it petrified him to finally become aware of the impact that the angel had on him.

“Dean, what–“ Sam’s voice sounded confused, and Dean had no time for explanations. Or the breath for answers. His heart hurt more with every shaky breath he took.

“Just answer!” Dean snapped. His voice pierced through the night like a cork exploding out of a bottle of red wine, like a knife finding its deathly course.

His hands were shaking just as much as his legs did, and Dean wondered if they might fail him just like the night Cas had been taken from him.

A sob started to crawl up his throat, a sob he hadn’t let out ever since that excruciating night. He had thought if he didn’t cry, maybe it would get easier for him to get over it.

It hadn’t gotten easier.

“I see him,” Sam answered finally, but he didn’t turn his gaze from Dean, his brows drawn together in a concerned line.

“Dean, I’m here.” Cas eventually, finally looked up at him, and an uncontrolled sob escaped Dean’s lips, and the dam broke.

“Dean, it might be a trick–“ Sam started, but his voice was nothing but a blur within Dean’s ears.

Cas was here. His Cas. His Cas had finally come home. He didn’t care whether it was a trick or not. It was Cas, and nothing else mattered.

By the time Sam had finished his sentence, Dean had already stumbled halfway over to Cas.

He was wearing a normal pair of Jeans and a black Led Zeppelin hoodie, which wasn’t really a surprise. They had buried him in his suit, and Cas probably got changed right after he’d made his way out.

Dean knew that in the forest behind the bunker, he would eventually find a six feet deep hole hiding an empty coffin surrounded by dried out brown leaves.

The leaves covered almost everything these days, but there would be a small space they didn’t. A small space where Dean had put new clothes and lit a small candle every Sunday morning, never really giving up on the only hope he had left, even if it meant saying so long to sanity and slipping into a dull world of nothing.

Dean also kept a new suit and a blue tie, tied the wrong way, and even new shoes in Cas’ old room within the bunker. The trenchcoat, however, he kept inside his own room. He didn’t managed to bury it together with his angel, because it was the last thing he had left of him, the familiar scent never failing to remind Dean of times they were together and times they were happy.

He knew that Sam knew, and he also knew Sam thought he was driving insane, which he probably was, but it never mattered to Dean. Not that anything would matter to Dean these days. But Cas ending like that – that had not been meant to be. Cas was by his side. He was by Cas’ side. Everything else was weird, unnatural. Maybe even unthinkable. It definitely was unbelievable for Dean.

He didn’t even care how Cas came back, what took him so long, if he had been back around for long. Who gave a fuck why Cas was here? Cas was here. That was the only thing that mattered, and the only thing that made sense to him.

His heart was pumping blood through his veins he didn’t need, because he didn’t need to run, not this time. He would be able to stop running away now. And he wouldn’t let Cas run away another time, either.

Dean heard Sam saying something, but he didn’t process it, he didn’t even care.

And then he finally collapsed within Cas’ embrace.

Dean cried out his name without the slightest glimpse of embarrassment as he gripped the hoodie and held on tight on him.

“Dean,” Cas answered quietly with that deep angel voice Dean had missed too much, and it sent shudders down his spine.

“I prayed to you,” Dean started in between two sobs, breathless as he buried his tear-wet face in Cas’ shoulder. And it hurt, oh god, it hurt so much. The familiar scent of Castiel made him want to scream in pain.

“I’m sorry.” Cas’ hands wandered over his hips, back, neck, and finally found their way into Dean’s dirty blonde hair, while Dean still held on to that hoodie as if he was about to drown and burn at the same time.

“You’re a feathered asshole.” Dean’s voice was gentle and vulnerable, but it still managed to impart everything he couldn’t say.

Castiel remained silent for a long time. When he finally parted his lips, his voice vibrated like the colored wings of a hummingbird. “I missed you too, Dean.”

Dean looked at him as he struggled for words and air. “You’ve got a hell lot to explain as to how you came back,” he eventually attempted, “but that’s for later.”

“Dean,” Cas whispered reassuringly but demanding, as if he knew what Dean was going to say. Just a hushed smile flattered the corners of his lips, causing wrinkles to appear next to his vibrant blue eyes.

He remembered how cold his lips had felt that night when his fingers had brushed over them ever so lightly, so cold and pale and lifeless, like a ghost had already covered them in snow. But they were as full as always now, tinted in a soft rosy color and formed with a flawless cupid line.

It was impossible for him to count out how much time he had spent looking at Cas’ lips by now, not only in this very moment but ever since they first had met, and he had never really quite understood what it had meant.

But he understood it now.

And sparks flew when their lips met.

Not like the first time he had seen Cas, not in a literal way. There were no lamps exploding whatsoever, no thunder, shattering wooden roof.

But it felt like something within his heart sparked back to life, and the sorrow about everything was slowly being burnt away by a small sun radiating inside of him in all its bright and blinding glory.

Cas held his neck and gripped his hair on just the right narrow blade between passion and pain, and his lips were softer than he’d ever imagined, and by god, he tasted so much like Cas.

From far, far away, he heard Sam mumble something before footsteps disappeared even further away. It didn’t matter to Dean. And it sure as hell didn’t matter to Cas, either. Nothing else mattered now that they were finally brace enough to embrace just how much they actually mattered to one another.

It was the kiss he’d been dreaming about and dreading for years, for pouring and excruciating and tiring years, and time seemed to stop as Castiel pressed his lips against him like they belonged together, like they were made to melt into each other like ice into a puddle on a hot summer’s day under the beautiful sun of Kansas.

It was the kiss of the kind that made your heart beat fast enough to make you think you might die, and it felt as painful as it felt compellingly stunning and it took Dean’s breath yet before he closed his eyes.

When their lips parted just a few centimeters and he stared into Cas’ bright blue diamond eyes in struggle to find the right words yet again, Cas stared right back into his soul, all his sins and dreams and wishes unfolded upon him.

And he simply did not need many words to express everything else.

Just three words, three tiny little words and he would be able to rest in a feathered embrace.

Just three words and Cas’ eyes would tear up, unable to bear with all those feelings.

Just three words.

Dean looked at the angel who once saved him again and again until there had been nothing left of his wings but broken feathers and shattered dreams, and he smiled because he knew he would be able to save him just this once.

Three words.

“Welcome home, Cas.”

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roobierubyroobieruby · 7 years

Text

Invaluable (Part 2)

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Word Count: 2,008

Warnings: Angst, fighting (verbal and physical), swearing, blood, torture, sadness, grief…sorry

Summary: You’re tired of Castiel constantly running off with the Winchesters to fight and leaving you behind, as if you’re not able to look after yourself, so you go out on your own to prove you’re capable of taking care of yourself. Little do you know that the angels are looking for any means necessary to get to Castiel, and you’ve just given them to quickest way yet…

[Part 1]

Previously: The worst part was yelling at Cas, you could have sworn that he was hurting at the idea of keeping you there, and you knew your words had stung him, but he couldn’t stay silent and then only speak to you privately to tell you how important you were. He couldn’t act one way in front of Dean and another with you – he was either on your side or not.

You felt the frustration bubbling up again and decided that you’d had enough of staring at these walls, so you went into the library and began looking for nearby cases. You needed something easy and close by so you could be back here before the boys even realized you were gone, solitary confinement be damned.

You’d found a case only two towns over which appeared to be a quick and easy rogue vampire, so you could have it taken care of within a day or two. The idea of going on a hunt excited you, you felt adrenaline course through you as you packed a bag and checked your weapons before loading them up into one of the cars in the garage. This car wasn’t Baby, but it’d do the job and you took great pleasure in roaring out of the bunker and seeing it shrink in your rear vision mirror.

You felt free, with the windows down and the wind whipping through the car, making your hair fly around in a storm of its own, and you blasted the radio, singing along to whatever songs were playing. You felt as if you’d missed so much being caged in the bunker, but all too soon the freedom of the drive ended as you pulled into the town and found the cheapest motel.

There was no time to waste once you checked in, so you changed into your uniform and headed out to the police station to begin working over the case, eager to get back into the hunting game and finally feel useful.

You worked through the night, trying to use as much time as you could to ensure you had this done and dusted in enough time to clear out, and in the early hours of the morning you had managed to narrow down the possible hide outs to 3 locations on the outskirts of town. You decided they could wait until tomorrow because the bed was calling your name and, even though it was a cheap motel bed, you did not want to miss out on any opportunity to reclaim some independence, even if it was just sleeping in a bed on a rebellious mission.

You awoke feeling refreshed, a renewed sense of purpose in the hunt as you realized that you just had to narrow down the hideouts and you would be done with this case by tomorrow morning. It didn’t take much to work out which location the vamp would be hiding in, so you stocked up on supplies and waited until nightfall, knowing the attacks occurred between 1 and 3am, meaning that was your window to follow the vamp and kill it before it took another life.

Thankful that you’d brought a car that was inconspicuous, you only had to wait until 1:45am for the vamp to leave the abandoned house, and you got out of the car to follow on foot, seeing as he was travelling the same way. It wasn’t long before you made it to the nearest neighbourhood, and you watched as he skulked around the streets, avoiding the streetlights and sticking to side alleys for people in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Your patience paid off as he came across some silly teens out for a nightly stroll, but his charms weren’t enough to get them to drop their guard, which ultimately led to him attacking them right there. You leapt into action, managing to free his hold on one of the teens long enough for them to run, so he angrily turned his attentions to you, and you had to admit that you could feel the fear coiling in your stomach – you’d been out of the game for a while now. Just like riding a bike, your muscle memory kicked in and you managed to grapple with him for only seconds before driving your knife into his chest.

As he collapsed to the ground, you made the killing blow, slicing off his head and feeling the satisfaction that you’d successfully hunted a rogue vampire on your own and you’d made it out relatively unscathed. You were sure you would have some bruising but none that couldn’t be hidden under shirts.

As you wiped the blood from your knife onto your jeans, you heard a faint scuffle behind you, and as you turned you were met with the snarling fangs of a female vampire. Before you had time to process and throw your arms up in defence, a blinding white light exploded through the alley and you could hear the vampire sizzling and screaming before it disintegrated.

Straight away your mind flew to Cas, he must have sensed your sudden adrenaline rush and fear – he was always listening out for the prayers you and the Winchesters unwittingly sent out in times of stress during hunts – and come to save you just in time it seemed. As you dropped out of your defensive stance, letting your eyes readjust to the sudden darkness, you could see that the usual trenchcoat wasn’t in front of you. Instead, you were met with 3 bodies, all clad in fitted black suits, led by a woman who was holding her hand up and therefore was the one who just saved you.

“Thanks I guess, who are you?”

You felt a knot form in your stomach, sensing that something was amiss with this situation, but you didn’t want to discount all angels on the account of a few rogues. You were sure Castiel didn’t have all of heaven’s angels wanting his head to roll and maybe these were friendlies.

“I’m Naomi. I’m looking for Castiel and I believe you can help me with that.”

She dropped her arm and folded her hands in front of her, plastering a small smile on her face as if to ease the tension that was becoming evident in your stance. You had dropped your arms as well, but you maintained a firm grip on your knife knowing full well that you needed all the help you could get if this went south.

“Why do you want to find Cas? I don’t know where he is.”

For once you weren’t lying. The boys had never told you where they were going, part of the reason you felt as though they didn’t trust you, but now you were grateful that you were so out of the loop. Sweat began to form and your brain was screaming at you to run, but you knew you wouldn’t outrun an angel, much less 3, so you had to try and talk yourself out of this – or at least buy you some time to come up with a better plan.

“See, now I know that’s not true –”

She began to slowly step toward you, and yet not straight at you, it was as if she was circling a wounded animal, like a wolf circling its prey, and you began to shuffle to backwards with every step of hers forward, wanting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“– because we have always kept a close eye on our brother Castiel, and we have seen his exchanges with the Winchesters, as annoying as they are, and we have also seen his exchanges with you.”

With that, she came to a halt, tilting her head slightly to look you up and down. Suddenly you felt very exposed, and very vulnerable with no angel blade, and you noticed your heart was racing – with fear or adrenaline or both, you couldn’t be sure. You just prayed that Cas wouldn’t come and save you, because if they were after him then he needed to stay as far away from here as possible.

“I’m nobody. I’m just another hunter, I’m not even as important as the Winchesters! They were Michael and Lucifer’s vessels for crying out loud, and I’m just me.”

You could hear the panic in your voice, as much as you tried to hide it and pretend otherwise, but you could see she heard it. She knew. She had you right where she wanted you. You began to fidget with the knife, almost a subtle reminder that you were armed, but she just smirked at you.

At this, you knew she wasn’t intending to let you go even if you knew nothing, so you ran. But it was futile, and she appeared in front of you not even a few steps from where you just were, and she tapped you on the forehead. Everything went dark. The last thing you saw was Naomi’s smiling face taunting you as the ground rushed up.

**Cas’s POV**

He’d heard your pleas, felt your fear loud and clear in his head alongside your jumbled thoughts ‘don’t come here’, ‘they’re looking for you’, ‘what do they want’, ‘I’m trapped’. He immediately grabbed Sam and Dean, transporting them back to the bunker without a moment to spare.

“Cas what the he-“

Cas interrupted Dean, “Y/N is in trouble.”

Dean didn’t hesitate to snap into action, with him and Sam racing off to check the various rooms of the bunker you liked, while Cas immediately moved to your room where he noticed your bag gone and various weapons were missing.

He heard Sam and Dean coming down the hall to your room, only to come to the same conclusion that Cas had – you had left, gone on a hunt most likely, and in doing so had put yourself in more danger than you knew.

“Y/N knew it was dangerous to leave, why would they leave?!” Sam yelled at no one in particular, pointing to your room as if an explanation might magically appear.

“Y/N doesn’t know the full extent of the angel threat, Sam. We felt it best not to tell them because then they would have refused to be left out of the plan.”

Cas dropped his head in shame when Sam met his eyes with confusion and hurt, as if he couldn’t believe that Cas would lie to you like that. Cas couldn’t believe it himself, he never wanted to lie to you and now his lie had put you in more danger than ever before.

“You didn’t tell them?! So what, now they’re out there and we don’t know where or with who or what could possibly be happening to them!”

Sam glared at Dean, who had not said a word since coming to the same conclusion he had, as he left to go and look for a way or a clue that would help them find you.

“I should have told them, Dean.”

Cas stared at your bed, where he’d last seen you laying in defeat and betrayal over their unwillingness to let you leave the bunker. He hated that that was his last memory of you, the last conversation you had involved you yelling at him and demanding he leave, even though you had every right to do so. Now, he may not have a chance to fix it.

“We did what we had to Cas, don’t forget that. You know as well as I do that they would have refused to be left out if they were aware of what we were doing. Finding and translating these tablets is putting us at enough risk, they didn’t need to be dragged into it as well.”

Dean’s voice was soft, yet Cas could hear the fear through it, and he knew that Dean was imagining all the possible scenarios that could be happening to you right now, same as Cas was, and that none of them were good.

“If I’d jus-“

“No, Cas. No. Don’t do that to yourself –“

It was Dean’s turn to interrupt Cas.

“– we made a decision that was the best at the time, and there’s no point sitting here dwelling on it now. We need to get our asses out there and find a way to track them down and we will get them back. You hear me? We will get them back.”

Cas nodded, he felt it was the only thing he could do right now. He never understood human emotions but right now, he felt as if his heart had stopped beating and he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t think he’d be able to breathe again until he had you back safe and where he could protect you.

[Part 3]

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