#trans!dean x castiel

[pickledpascal]

Meat & Candy

Chapter Three

Warnings: innuendos, sibling teasing, dean being nervous, swearing.

Word Count: 3.6k

Meat & Candy Masterlist

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Before Castiel left the restaurant, he and Dean exchanged numbers to work out a time for Dean’s “lesson.” Castiel couldn’t help but feel excited about it.

Not only because Dean was an attractive man but because he loved food and he loved seeing the process of a professional chef. The way they moved around in a busy kitchen, how they prepared for the upcoming day, the precise hand of how they plated a dish—it all interested him. And told Castiel a lot about a chef. Would Dean be one of those hot-headed chefs who screamed at his staff when a plate came to the pass raw and ultimately pushed his chefs to be better? Or was Dean more calm, collected, and gently pushed until he’d talk with one of his chefs about their performance?

Castiel hoped it was the latter.

As Dean’s eyes followed Castiel through the windows, Sam snickered behind him. Dean turned, rolling his eyes. “Spit it out, Sammy.”

“‘Would you like to come back tomorrow?’ So we can kiss on the mouth?” Sammy mocked in a deeper voice, imitating Dean. “You’re so obvious sometimes, Dean. I’m surprised Castiel didn’t just kiss you goodbye.”

Dean titled his head. “What?” He felt dizzy. Did Castiel like him? Well, Dean knew he could be charming and he knew his looks were enough to make anyone fall for him but he’s had…. Issues. Enough issues where he still got surprised that people found him attractive and liked him for who he was. Yeah, that still got him. 

“You’re so fucking oblivious sometimes, I can’t believe you.” Sam let out a sigh, pushing a hand through his hair. 

“Or maybe you’re just seeing things.” Dean pointed out, trying to push away the fluttering feeling in his chest.

The last time Dean had a relationship was nearly sixteen years ago when Emma was born. He had this on-and-off thing with Benny but Dean wouldn’t call that a relationship. More like friends with benefits. Plus, he cut that off a while ago. Now, they were just friends. Benny met a girl named Andrea and they were engaged. Dean was happy for him. 

And Dean, for a while, was completely fine with being alone. 

Lately, Emma hasn't been fine with it. 

Did she want Dean to go home with just anyone? Absolutely not. But she wanted him to get out there. And Sam couldn't help but agree. Hell, everyone in Dean's life agreed. 

And Dean…. Well, he didn't know what to do with that. 

“What're you gonna do tomorrow anyway?” Sam asked, leaning up against the table he was working at. 

Dean pursed his lips. “The classics? Maybe something else. I've been cooking up some stuff in my head.” He joked, snapping his finger and winking at Sam. 

“You suck.” Sam wasn't impressed.

He had to deal with Dean's coping mechanisms for most of his life. Sam knew he was still affected by everything that happened to them when they were kids. Dean remembered most, if not all, of what happened to them. Sam, not so much, simply because he was younger and his early years were a little fuzzy. 

“And you swallow.” Dean countered.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh as he rubbed his forehead. “Get the fuck outta here and get the shit for our tasting session.” 

Dean laughed and nodded. “Gotcha. See in a few.” He went to the front door. “And by a few, I mean hours.” He waved as he exited. 

One of Dean's favorite things to do as a chef is to walk around the alleyway markets, checking out the produce, talking to a few vendors, and simply taking the time to slow down. He knew a lot of chefs thrived on adrenaline and the heat of the kitchen. Not Dean. He thrived for these moments. Quiet ones. Calm ones. Don't get him wrong, he loved being in the kitchen and he loved the feeling of camaraderie among his cooks when they completed a service but he cherished his time off just as much. 

“Hey, Donna!” Dean greeted her with a wide smile. He'd known Donna for a while.

She returned the smile. “Heya, Dean. What can I do ya for?”

“I’ll take five bunches of parsley, five pounds of tomatoes, two of apricots, and,” Dean grabbed one of the granny smith apples that sat in Donna's crates and tossed it into the air. “Three pounds of apples.” 

Donna nodded and began to bag everything for Dean. She'd get one of her workers to deliver it to the restaurant. “You seen Jody yet today?” 

“No, why?” Dean cocked an eyebrow. Jody was Dean's butcher of choice and she usually came in the afternoons to drop off whatever order he made in the morning.

“She has something special for ya.” Donna winked. 

Dean chuckled softly and finished up, paying for all the things he got. He went to a few other vendors, talking and laughing as he paid for stuff. Some things he thought Emma would like. For instance, he got a citrus and herbal candle—Emma had a nice candle collection going and some of her favorite smells were citrus and floral. 

When Dean came back from the markets, Emma sat at one of the tables doing her homework. He ruffled her hair when he got close. She shot him an annoyed, but affectionate, look. 

“Math still suck ass?” He asked with an easy smile.

Emma let out a sigh as she looked down at her notebook that had scribbles she didn’t understand even though she was the one that wrote them down. “Yeah.” 

“Want a distraction?” Dean leaned in closer to Emma, a hand on the back of her chair. 

Emma glanced at her father from her work and thought it over. Dean was usually good at distractions but also good at reminding her to finish her work afterward. She stood and motioned for Dean to enter the kitchen.

Dean’s smile widened as he opened the kitchen door for her and watched as she interacted with Sam, Benny, and the other chefs—Lee, Garth, Jack, and Charlie. 

To be fair, they were family to Emma before they were Dean’s employees. 

“What should we have her on?” Lee rubbed his chin, looking at the youngest in their brigade, Jack. “Think she can handle searing off the meats?” He teased.

Jack laughed nervously, not sure if he should answer at all. “Well, uh….”

Benny rolled his eyes and punched Jack’s shoulder gently. “Don’t answer that. Lee’s just messin’ with ya.” He glanced at Emma who was glaring at them. “She could probably get every station done on time and still have time to do homework.” He winked.

Dean put a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Must run in the family.” 

“No. Uncle Sammy sucks in the kitchen.” Emma shuddered. Sam rolled his eyes.

The room burst into laughter. “Well, it runs in my blood.” Dean rephrased. “Anyway, c’mon,” His voice shifted to the one he usually used when he had to work, yelling orders over to pass to make sure his cooks heard him. “We’re gonna do a quick spread of each dish we will be serving, the correct portioning, so take small bites to make sure it tastes how it’s supposed to. Sam,” He looked at his behemoth of a brother, “Do not take bigger bites than you’re supposed to. You’ll be leaving scraps for Jack.”

———

After the interview, Castiel got some good work done on the article at the office. Sure, he could just write down the questions and Dean’s responses but where’s the fun in that? He wanted to make it more of a “character study” than an interview. He always felt normal interview articles lacked a certain soul. They never treated the person they were interviewing as a person. 

“Hey, Cassie!” Castiel heard the familiar voice of his brother as he entered his house. And he could sense the scent of cooking wine.

“Hello, Gabriel.” Castiel greeted, seeing Claire sitting at the kitchen island as she watched Gabriel in the kitchen. Something in his heart squeezed. 

Gabriel was no Masterchef—like Castiel would assume Dean would be—but he was less helpless in the kitchen than Castiel and helped him out a lot when he worked long days and wanted to make sure Claire ate something for dinner other than Wendy’s or some other fast food restaurant. 

“How was that interview with Mr. Winchester?” Gabe asked with a suggestive tone.

Castiel tilted his head, turning to Claire. “Did you tell him?” 

Claire shrugged and shook her head. “No. I mean I told him you were interviewing someone but I didn’t remember his name.” 

Castiel looked from Claire to Gabriel with curious eyes. 

His brother shifted slightly, his smug smirk never left his lips. “I sold that spot to Mr. Winchester. His house too. And occasionally we just talk for fun.” He shrugged. 

Castiel's eyebrows raised. He had a connection to Dean? “How long have you known him?” He couldn't help but ask.

Gabriel's eyes squinted a little at him. “A while. We met while he was still in New York for culinary school.”

Castiel noted the fact that Dean went to culinary school in New York in the back of his head. He became more intrigued. Gabriel lived in New York over a decade ago. Castiel was mostly surprised he'd never heard of Dean before now. But then again, Gabriel could be the type to forget to let people know things.

He and Castiel were different that way. It was a wonder how they were related. They were very different but seemed to work well together.

“What…. Was he like?” Castiel asked, his heart pounding faster.

Gabriel shrugged, a knowing look in his eyes. “Hot. That hasn't changed much. And a little skinnier.” He laughed softly. “Now that changed. He put on some muscle. The man became a proper dilf.”

Claire tilted her head, suddenly a lot more interested in the conversation. Maybe that was part of the reason why the rumors of the restaurant were circulating around her school. 

A hot head chef with a kid? It didn't even matter if he was single or not. Say hello to daddy issues.

———

Dean couldn't keep Castiel out of his head. He was buzzing around up there like a gnat—no, more like a bee. Gnats were far more annoying than bees. Bees were more important, too. They contributed to pollen dispersal and made honey. Honey was good. As far as Dean knew, gnats simply existed to annoy the hell out of people.

He leaned up against one of the counters in the kitchen and rubbed at his temples. He hadn't felt this kind of nervousness since he and Cassie were a thing. That thought made his heart sink. 

Cassie was the last person Dean had been in a relationship with. The last person that meant something to him. In more than just a familial or friendly way. 

And, shit, he was cooking for Cas. Cooking like this was intimate for Dean. It wasn't as meaningful when he was behind a wall, cooking for tables of people but Cas would actually be able to see the work and care he put into everything. 

Wait, when did he become Cas?

Dean shook his head and took a deep breath. He tried to remember what his therapist told him. Those breathing exercises. 

In. One, two, three. Hold. Out. One, two, three. Repeat three more times to make it an even four.

His heart slowed. Dean ran a hand through his hair before he noticed Benny standing near the back of the kitchen. He stood straighter.

“Did you, uh, watch all that?” Dean asked nervously. 

Benny nodded as he approached slowly. “No worries, man. I get it. You like him. And….” He paused to try and find the right words. “It's been a while since you felt like that. Like something real might happen.” 

Dean didn't want to look Benny in the eyes because he was exactly right. Why did Dean have to surround himself with people who could see right through him? Oh, right, because he wanted to hire people who he could trust and anticipate his needs before he asked for something. 

“I'm proud of you.” Benny eventually said, eyes softening as he looked at Dean. “You deserve something nice. Someone nice.” 

Dean closed his eyes at the praise. He felt like he didn't deserve it. He still wasn't used to it, even with as much praise Ellen and Bobby had given him over the years, the feeling didn't change much from his younger years. Dads sucked like that. 

Benny pulled Dean into a hug, surprising him. Dean simply let it happen, holding onto him. 

“You're such a good dad, y'know that?” Benny pulled away slightly to look him in the eye. He just wanted to be there for his friend. “I see the way Emma looks at you. Like you hung the damn moon, just for her. You're doing good, don't forget that.” 

Dean took in another deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, man.” He leaned back against the counters. “I, um, I needed that.” He admitted.

“I knew you did.” Benny said softly. “Just… Do something for yourself for once, hm?” 

With that, Benny was gone. He had retreated through the back door to give Dean some privacy. 

Cooking could be intimate with the right person after all. 

Or it could be hell.

Dean has felt his fair share of both in his forty or so years of being alive. 

“Hello?” Castiel poked his head through the door to the kitchen, glancing around the room before his eyes landed on Dean. He had a notebook in his hands with a pen clipped on the cover. 

He looked like a nerd. With his trench coat and tie combo. It made Dean smile.

“Um, Sam just let me in. I know I'm early. Is that okay? Or do you need more time to prepare?” Castiel asked shyly, playing with the edges of his notebook. 

Dean's smile widened a little, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He quickly wiped the look off his face as he took a breath, “No, you're fine. Don't worry.” 

He clapped his hands together before he motioned for Castiel to come closer. “Take a look around. Feel free to ask me any questions while I'm cooking, I can multitask pretty well.” Dean smirked and winked at the other man, not missing the way Sam looked at him through the window between the kitchen and the dining room.

Castiel hummed a little as he eagerly looked at the pre-portioned ingredients. It seemed like he was trying to figure out what Dean was going to do with them before he started.

He had no idea.

Less than a few minutes passed before the two dishes Dean made were finished. And Castiel's mouth was watering just looking at them.

Dean slid the first dish to Castiel. “This is my version of a classic breakfast. At least, what I assume is a classic breakfast.” He flushed a little as he looked down at the dish. “Egg's benedict with bacon on top and diced roasted potatoes.”

Castiel almost didn't want to take a fork and bite into it. The hollandaise was so fluffy and perfect looking with the way it dripped down the sides of the eggs and English muffin. And those potatoes? Seasoned to perfection and so golden. 

“Is the… Is the English muffin homemade?” Castiel shook his head to try and focus. 

Dean shook his head. “Charlie's a good baker but no. We get them locally though. A friend, Cassie, owns a bakery down the street.” 

Castiel took a quick note. Dean sources his ingredients locally. And then he cut into the dish. And, shit, the egg was poached to perfection. The yolk ran out elegantly. He wasn't sure how else to describe it. He wanted to drink it like water. When he finally put a piece of it in his mouth, he let out a small sigh. 

Castiel has had the pleasure of eating at some of the most expensive restaurants in Chicago and across the US because of his job but this… this felt like he got transported to Heaven and was cooked a meal by God himself. 

He wished the meal could last forever. Alas, he ate the dish in a mere minute or two. 

Dean let out a small laugh. “Hungry?”

“I barely ate today.” Castiel admitted. Maybe that was why it tasted better than anything he'd ever tasted before. But, at the same time, perhaps Dean was just that good of a chef. 

Dean's eyes softened with a glint of sadness, sliding over dish number two. “Well, I'm glad you could fill up.” He scratched his eyebrow for a second. “This is, uh, homemade spaghetti with garlic, parsley, bacon bits—because I gotta put bacon in nearly everything—red pepper flakes for some spice. And I tossed it in some tomato sauce.” 

Castiel looked at this dish carefully. It had some nice color with some red, green, and yellow and it didn't hurt that the bottom of the bowl wasn't dripping in sauce. Which was nice. However, he wasn't the biggest fan of bacon in pasta dishes. 

“Why lightly toss the pasta?” He asked, curious. Surely it wasn't just for aesthetic reasons.

Dean chuckled a little at the question before he leaned against the countertop. “Gives the dish a nice color plus I want to save most of the sauce for other dishes. And I didn't want to overpower the dish. The red sauce I make can be….” He tried to find the right words. “Very flavorful in large amounts.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at that before he swirled his fork in the pasta and took a bite. Well, shit. Those bacon bits worked pretty well in this dish. And he could understand what Dean was saying about the sauce. It was wonderful in this small amount but he wondered what it'd taste like if he had a pitcher that he could drink from. 

He scribbled down a few more notes in a frenzy. Mostly just flavors and the composition of the dish.

“And, uh, who do you staff here? Professional chefs like you? Or are you open to anyone?” Castiel asked after a few minutes of other questions. 

Dean pursed his lips for a second before his lips broke out into a smile. “I hire friends, mostly. Formal education or not. If I know you're good enough to work for me, then you're good enough.” He explained softly. “Like my best friend Benny, he's my sous, he used to work in New Orleans making lobster rolls and shrimp at little hole-in-the-wall places. Or, uh, Charlie, my pastry chef. She'd always make cakes for my birthday and they were incredible.”

Castiel chuckled softly. That would be a dream, getting to hire all your friends to work for you… Half his coworkers sucked. 

“I try to make a positive environment for my chefs. And my waiters. And my stage, Sam.” Dean smiled softly. “I know a lot of kitchens can get heated. I don't want that. My daughter comes into the kitchen a lot to help and I don't want her seeing me throwing a pan at someone.” He quickly added, “I mean, I wouldn't do that to begin with but… I've seen it happen.”

“Don't worry. I get it.” Castiel smiled at Dean, glancing up from the counters to his face. He tilted his head. “You mentioned you had a daughter twice. Once yesterday. Is that why you wanted to do this? Give her something… to have later on?”

Dean licked his lips and shook his head. “My daughter… she pushed me to do this. To have something I could call my own that I didn't have to share with anyone. Sam helped me a lot, sure, but this is my restaurant. I don't have a partner or co-owner. It's… it's mine.” He took a deep breath, rubbing a hand up his face for a second. “I haven't had something like that in a while.”

Castiel nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at Dean. He made Castiel think of his own daughter. Maybe he was being too selfish and tried to focus too hard on advancing his career instead of Claire.

She deserved more. 

“How… How do you think you did? As a parent?” Castiel asked softly.

Dean let out a soft laugh. “I don't know. Emma would say I'm the best dad ever but I'm not sure. There were times I struggled to pay bills but… but we always ate dinner together.” He loved those times, as much as they sucked.

Emma was such a wonderful child that Dean wasn't sure if that was his nurture or her nature. She always wanted to help in the kitchen. Perhaps it's because he liked it so much and she wanted to know why.

With grease stains on his shirts, oil scars on his hands, and a towel on his shoulder to pick up hot things. All Dean remembered was her smiling face biting into one of his burgers, with one of her front teeth missing. It's like he could see the memory shifting before his eyes. To Emma just a few days ago doing the exact same thing.

Fuck, Dean loved her with all his heart. 

———

taglist: @nexus-my-beloved

#jensen ackles #supernatural #transgender #spn #queer #destiel #deancas #dean and cas #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x castiel #castiel #sam winchester #trans!dean x castiel #castiel novak #benny lafitte #charlie bradbury #cassie robinson #misha collins #jack kline #lee webb #chef au #journalism #chef

[atlas-assbutt]

Imagine if Cas was a hunter and he kept bumping into Dean on hunts. Like they become hunting partners after a bit. Sam is still in Stanford. No apocalypse, no handprint. Cas would still be able to listen to angel radio, because he’s a fallen angel and doesn’t know it. He and Dean forge their own destiny.

#supernatural #supernatural fandom #spn #castiel #castiel novak #spnfamily #spn fanart #dean x castiel #destiel #dean winchester #hunter!cas #deancas fanart #castiel fanart #supernatural fanart #queer artist #disabled artist #trans artist #taking commisions #commissions open

[matxhstixkers]

Castiel dared to scoot closer to Dean, dared to allow their legs to touch, their shoulders to brush, here in the daylight where anyone could see them. Dean kept his eyes closed, but nudged his leg closer to Castiel in response, as if answering the unasked question.

- Bones by @notreallyaroad

#charlie rambles on #dean winchester #trans dean winchester #dean x castiel #castiel #castiel novak #destiel #deancas #casdean #fanfics #supernatural #spn #fanfic art #my art

[xxc0reyxx]

i’m suing the cw for emotional damage

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #jack kline #bobby singer #charlie spn #charlie bradbury #kevin tran #fuck the cw #destiel #deancas #eileen leahy #saileen #sam x eileen #castiel x dean #cas x dean #dean x castiel

[eggcompany]

Momma's got a HUGE cock

Dean was in town to see Sam, however he could never say no to hot college girls. Or older girls who wore cardigans and was a professor of theology.

Castiel Novak, mtf, 39, takes home Dean Winchester, ftm , 27, and makes him cry.

“Hey, can I get another?” Dean asked and looked around at the chicks sat at the bar. A red head to one side of the bar caught his eyes. A real Jolene, ivory skin and emerald eyes. He checked her out, trying to get her to look at him but she was chatting with someone else. He let his eyes look around again, a dude might be fun while he’s in town…

However, behind the red head, sat at a small table…

She was… wow. Dean walked away from the bar when the cool bottle touched his hand. 

She had her long raven black hair clipped up in the back, head leaning on her hand, glossy blue nails tapping against her forehead, and was reading over a stack of papers. A drink forgotten at the end of the table, ice nearly melted in it. 

Dean made his way over to her, god she was pretty, strong jaw, strawberry lips, long eyelashes, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. God and she was… broad shoulders, strong lookin hands, and, fuck, tits that looked straight up carved by heaven that fit so perfectly in her blue blouse under her crème cardigan. God, how could someone look so hot wearing a cardigan and slacks? 

He leaned up against her table, causing her to look spooked and look up. 

“Oh sorry, is, are you-”

“Hey calm down. Just wanted to say hi” Dean said with a smile, the lady blushed, putting her papers back down. She looked away, and waited nervously. 

Dean took it as an invitation to sit down across from her leaning his chest on the table and look at the papers. 

“Whatcha workin on, pretty lady?” He asked, sitting back and taking a sip of his beer. She rolled her eyes and shook her head a bit. 

“I’m a teacher. I’m reading essays.” She said and took a sip from her drink. It had been a while since she’d been out to drink, usually opting for wine coolers at home. She’d seen most of the college aged guys in town and well… this seemed to be one of those college frat boys, all big muscles and smooth talk. He had cute pouty lips and pretty dirty blonde hair and eyes that seemed to go on for miles behind them. Quite… handsome. Alluring. Kinda like a magnet. 

“Man… a teacher? Must be pretty smart. Wanna teach me a few things?” Dean flirted and the woman huffed a laugh. God she was pretty. And fuck he wanted her bad . At least for some kissing in the impala. 

“I’m sure I could. But what’s your thing? Huh? Mister smooth talker?” She asked and gave him an appraising look and swirled her drink around her glass. Surely he knew her or something, a study guide or ‘extra credit’ in exchange for some sloppy sex. Though she just couldn’t put her finger on who he was…

“My thing? Hm… beer, my car, very very attractive women in bars who teach and wear sensible shoes.” Dean said with a smile, flicking his eyes down to the table where he’d seen her feet crossed, clad in a pair of plain tan and white sneakers. 

She smiled down at herself, she was never one to dress up and go to bars, she prefers wearing her comfortable day clothes. Her regular tan slacks, a plain blue blouse, and she usually had a cardigan pulled over her shoulders. She looked back at him, he was wearing.. A lot to be honest. A tight black t-shirt with a red flannel over it and a leather jacket over it all. The jacket was a bit big on him but it suited him. 

Then he leaned back, flipping his jacket open to show the small trans flag sewn on the inside of it, he scratched his jaw like he wasn’t showing. 

The woman hummed and looked at it before looking back up at him. Of course. A kid looking for someone who understood. 

“Your name then?” She asked, taking another sip of her drink. She never had much luck at bars. Never had much luck with… anyone. Except he was like a magnet, like she was being pulled to him. She wanted to touch his hand where it laid on the table and wanted to sit close to him and… maybe give him a kiss. 

“Dean Winchester at your service miss…?” Dean said and waited for her answer. Her answer to anything. 

“Castiel. Novak. Theology Professor.” She answered and he smiled, huffing an impressed noise. 

“Wow, a real educated lady” Dean flirted and chewed on his bottom lip. She was the whole package. 

“Mhm, ya know I have that same exact jacket, back at my place.” Castiel said hoping Dean would catch what she was pitching. 

Fuck , She is more than the whole package. 

“Oh really? Back at your place?” Dean asked, his face giving away how excited and happy he felt. Eyes wide as he swallowed thickly. He really hoped she meant she fucked trans guys or that she was… of the same persuasion. God either, neither, both, all, god, anything yes. 

“About a four minute walk.” She answered, hands going to gather the papers and slip them into her vintage looking blue and brown messenger bag. She never usually feels like this, this weird compulsive need to take someone home. 

“Yes ma’am” Dean said and slipped off the stool and threw some dollars on the counter when the bartender came to close his tab. He turned and she was standing, almost as tall as him. She was holding her bag in front of her. Demisexual and the new pride flag pinned proud on the front. 

That’s fine. She could do whatever she wanted with him. Hell, she could take him home and make him sleep in her bathtub and he’d be happier than a clam. He just felt this… want. She was so pretty and hot and she probably had a bed and probably had a chair or couch and that sounds a lot more comfy than sleeping in the impala. 

She was wanting, he just didn’t know or care what for. 

“Do you still want to come home with me?” She asked, pulling him from his buzzed spiral of warm bed, boobs, bed, boobs, bath tub, boobs . 

“Gladly” Dean said cheerily and followed behind her. And oh man , she had a nice ass, thick thighs too. He was busy staring at the way her hips moved when she walked to notice her calling his name. 

“Oh yeah yeah? Hm?” He asked and looked back up to her smirking face. He didn’t care that he got caught staring. Especially when it caused Castiel to roll her eyes and smile at him. 

“I asked if you go to Stanford or not.” She repeated, amused at the way Dean had caught up to her only to turn around and start walking backwards in front of her. 

“Oh no, my uh my little brother does. I came up to see him. I'm not really the school type.” Dean said, throwing air quotations around ‘ school’ . He was never good at school, always had better things to do, other places to be. Though if all teachers were like Professor Novak it might be worth going back. 

“Hm then what do you do? You’re what? 26?” Castiel questioned, should she really bring this guy home if he’s… bad? Sketchy at least. 

“27, thank you very much. I um… I travel around a lot. Doin’ odd jobs and stuff. Well actually me and my dad do that but he said he had to go do something but then he didn’t come back so I came to ask Sammy if he knew anything. Uh Sammy’s my brother, he lives around here somewhere.” Dean said and looked around at the houses, turning back around to walk beside the woman. 

“Oh, does your family live up here? There’s a couple of my students that live with their extended family while up here or in a summer home.” Castiel asked, it was easy to talk to Dean, easy to know she’s not overstepping a line. 

“Nah… our mom actually uh she passed when Sam was six months. I was four. House fire actually. After that we just kinda… started surfing the road, never stopping or nothing. Sam was always good at school though so he got here all by himself. He’s a… he’s a really smart kid.” Dean praised, he couldn’t even start to explain how proud he was for Sam. How he wished he could have made a better life for himself too but… just roll with the punches. 

“Dean… you’re a very sweet young man. Cute even.” She said and cupped his jaw in her hand. He breathed heavily for a second. Why was he so comfortable around her so.. open and in love already. Fuck, he was falling faster than a fridge tied to an anchor. 

“You’re just… really pretty. And and I dunno. I dunno why I feel like… like I know you.” Dean panted out, eyes flashing from hers down to her lips and back over and over again. Her hand felt so.. Solid and warm and grounding against his cheek. 

“I feel the same which… is so odd. I never connect with people like this. I always feel a bit like… like looking in through the window.” Castiel said, stepping closer a bit, just a breath away from the man who felt like his chest was getting squeezed when he realized they were still on the sidewalk. 

“Can I come in?” Dean asked, tearing his eyes away from her to the front door. He wanted to get away from any eyes that peeped, any cars that passed. 

“I… I think so. Yeah” She said and pulled away from him, hand sliding down his neck, shoulder, arm, to catch his hand and pull him along. 

------

“No I, I kept my name. It’s after the angel of Thursday. It’s always meant a lot to me. My brother actually named me, my first two brothers were named after archangels, Gabriel and Michael. Then Balthazar was born and then me and my brother Gabriel named me because I was born on Thursday. I have… a lot of siblings. Gabriel named most of them.” Castiel explained as she handed Dean a cup of sweet sugared tea and sat down with her own honey stirred cup of earl grey. 

He was sitting on the couch, boots kicked off at the door next to her sneakers, legs criss-crossed, jacket and flannel shucked off to the coat rack while Castiel’s cardigan was folded over the back of a barstool. 

“Sounds kinda nice. My ma named me. Deanna. Doesn’t fit at all, everyone always just called me Dee, or Danny, Sammy called me Danny cause he had the worst time talking he messed up every word he ever said till he was like seven. I was thinking about Danny or Daniel but… Dean just stuck. Plus Dean Winchester has a nice ring to it, don't you think.” Dean said, sipping the nice dark tea that was perfectly sweet. It was nice to just talk about this crap. Plus Castiel was so… god her whole house smelled like her and it smelled fucking good like honey and laundry detergent and printer ink. 

Plus the way she shook her head and smiled was… it made his heart do a weird flip flop. 

“It does. I can’t picture you as a Deanna. I much prefer Dean.” She said and moved a bit closer to him, turning so she was facing him, curling up so her socked toes nearly touched his warm jean covered leg. 

“Hm… you smell good.” Dean said and leaned forward a bit so his head rested on the back of the couch, lolled back a bit. 

“Mmh~ Mister Winchester are you trying to get in my panties?” Castiel said teasingly as she leaned forward so her face rested a few inches from Dean’s. His breath was hot and stank of beer as it washed over her face and he felt the same only her breath smelled like everclear and mints. 

“Yeah. Yeah I am. Please?” Dean asked, confidence fading for a moment only to soften the rejection if it happened. He doubted himself was this not what she had wanted? Did she just wanna chat? Was this pushing the line?

She took in a shaky breath and she couldn’t hold back, he was so willing and she hadn’t done it in so long, she’d not felt the need or want to do it for so long. 

“God you’re cute it’s not even fair, come here” Castiel says and pulls him over to straddle her lap, her hand coming up to pull his head to hers, lips meeting. Dean was quick to moan and get his hands to her sides, pulling at her blouse. She had her hands on the sides of his head, keeping him from pulling away as their tongues met. He let her explore his mouth, easily giving up dominance of the kiss. He groaned and pulled at the buttons of her shirt, begging for it to be off. 

She pulled back, staring at him, her lipstick smeared over his lips and to the side a bit. They were both a bit out of breath, her hands relaxing and dropping to his shoulders. 

It felt good to… well feel good. She felt happy. And horny. It was great. 

“Even deal, shirt or shirt” She said and pulled at the shoulders of his tight t-shirt. He smiled. 

“Yes ma'am” He said happily and pulled the shirt off by the neck, throwing it over to the corner. Baring his muscular torso and strong arms, his thin red surgery scars framing his pecs, healed half-hazardly, puffed up in some places and thinner and fainter in others. 

Castiel stared at him as he knelt over her, jeans low on his hips. He was… hot, tan, and… fuckable. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her again, short closed mouth kisses, with his thumb holding her chin. 

“Your turn, Miss Novak” He said and sat back, fingers playing with the bottom of her blouse. She swallowed and nodded, giving him permission to start undoing the buttons. And soon she was bared down to her plain white bra. 

“If I had known I was going to have company I would have worn something a bit more flattering.” She said and looked away from him. She had this bra since she got her boobs… and she’d washed it maybe 5 times in a year. She had other nice bras, lacey ones and push up ones and ones that made her look thinner and less broad. 

“I think you look hot, really hot. Can I touch em?” Dean asked as he practically drooled over the perfect soft looking pale breasts that were cupped in front of him. God those were… the best. And he said as much. 

“Those are the best” He said, which caused her to cover her face and laugh, embarrassment flooding through her. 

“Yeah… the… the clasp is kinda busted in the back so I can- oh!” She tried to explain and reach back but Dean had already popped the two good clasps and wiggled the last one free. She was surprised but well… Dean probably had experienced bra issues in the past. 

Dean’s hands found their way to cup and grab at the soft squish of her breast, groaning into the kiss he pulled her into. Fuck, she was warm and welcoming and undoing his belt but his hands stopped her from unzipping his jeans. He looked down at her… so pretty. So feminine, so pretty, so gentle, so… everything. 

“I uh… I don’t got um… I haven’t… I’m still…” He struggled but Castiel cupped his face and gave him a sweet look, an understanding look. 

“It’s okay. I haven’t had surgery down there either, at least not that kind of surgery. Do you wanna stop?” She said and let her thumb rub over his cheekbone, warm and comforting. Dean breathed and calmed down and shook his head, hands traveling from her chest down over her soft stomach down to her slacks, looking at her as he unbuttoned them and pulled the zipper down. 

“I don’t wanna stop, I wanna keep going.” Dean said seriously and leaned down to kiss her deeply, tongues rolling together, as her hands came to his hips and slipped under his jeans, over his briefs, to press at him. 

He pulled back and huffed, panting as her fingers pressed against his wet cunt, his briefs soaked through nearly. He let out a whimper, shoving his head into her shoulder, panting. 

“Do you.. You can touch me. Please touch me, I’m so hard” Dean whimpered and rubbed against her hand. 

She was so happy. He was… god so perfect, willing and wet and perfect. She pulled her hand back, pulling his jeans down but they wouldn’t get over his thighs. 

“Up, take them off, all of it off, I wanna get my hands on your cock” Castiel said, letting her voice relax and drop a bit. Dean shuttered standing up for a moment to yank at his pants and underwear until it was on a pile on the floor. He climbed back into her lap, not embarrassed of how wet he was or that his cock wasn’t very big. He took testosterone when he could, when he could swindle it, John never helped him get it so he was all on his own. So his… his cock was bigger but not really… just enough to be able to get between his fingers and rub.

Castiel let her hands wander over his smooth back, feeling the muscles flex and relax before traveling down and giving his ass a grab. Dean jumped a bit but smiled and got his hands back on her soft chest, he wanted to bend down and give them each a kiss. 

“Cas…” He breathed out, feeling a bit overwhelmed but… too horny to care. He leaned down and kissed her again but cried out when her fingers slid over him, finger tips pushing at his slick hole. He grabbed around her shoulders, whispering in her ear, too embarrassed to actually say it. 

“You can put it in, if you wanna” He whimpered and Castiel shook her head and turned her head and kissed his forehead. 

“Dean?” She asked, hand cupping him, feeling how burning hot and wet he was.

“Yeah, Cas?” He replied, which made her happy because well… no one ever called her ‘Cas’. And he was just… so cute. 

“I’m gonna make you cum until you cry. Do you know why?” Castiel said, pressing her palm into Dean’s hard cock. Dean moaned out a little bit and breathed quickly, his stomach clenching up at the thought of Castiel… ruining him. He felt a little light headed, especially with her hand pressing right up against his cock and her fingers over his whole cunt and and- fuck

“Wh-Why?” He forced out grinding against her hand. She crooked her fingers up to just nearly be inside of him, inciting a gasp from him. She pulled him back by the hair on the back of his head, making him look at her, he was gasping. 

“Because you’re so cute” She said and pulled him down for a kiss and shoved two of her fingers into his dripping hole. Dean moaned, grinding as much as he could against her fingers that seemed to immediately find a sweet spot inside him. She licked into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth for a moment before kissing down his neck. 

“Ah- I don’t like that. Just, kiss me up here” Dean said and pulled her face back up to his, he didn’t like getting necked. Never did, didn’t know why. Castiel kissed him and moved to nibble at his ear, her lipstick tracing a line from his lips over. 

“Good boy” She whispered and started working her fingers in and out of him, forcing loud moans and groans from his throat. 

-----

“Fuck! Fu-uh-uh-uck, please, oh god, feels so fuggin good! Please” Dean cried out as tears streamed down his face. His arms were wrapped around Castiel’s neck, hands grabbing onto her shoulders, she was squeezing his cock a bit tight and it was driving him crazy . 

Dean cried out and covered his mouth, mumbling something. 

“Say it baby, what’re you gonna say” Castiel egged him on, she loved the way he cried and all the noises he made and god hearing him was the best . She wanted to squeeze every noise out of him. 

He leaned back, stomach tense and jumpy, he was breathing so heavily, his chest heaving, he’d never felt like this before. He looked at her, god she was so pretty why the fuck was he so loose lipped and and god her hands -

“Oh fuck momma, I’m so close” Dean whimpered, clenching down on her three fingers. He looked at her as her eyes got big and her mouth opened in surprise, her hand stopped moving on him. He immediately tried to back track, most women he was with didn’t like that. He liked it but most women thought it was… weird. 

“I’m sorry I-” He said and tried to raise himself up off her fingers but she had him by the hair, pulling him down so they were nearly nose to nose. She pulled her fingers out of him and had his cock between her fingers. 

“Say it again.” She nearly growled, feeling her cock throb in her panties. She didn;t think she had any kinks but that was… jeez Dean was her kink. 

“I’m so close momma, fuck, rub my dick please, please touch it” Dean whimpered desperately, she was really squeezing him and fuck he was so close he was getting a headache. 

“God, yeah, you like mumma’s fingers in you?” Castiel asked and kept her fingers stead on him even as he twitched and jerked. She felt like her skin was alight with fire, everywhere they touched it felt like they were burning, their chests, stomachs, everywhere they touched felt like they could never pull away. 

“Yeah, love your fingers in my cunny momma, please! Please! I feel so empty but I’m so c-close” Dean begged he just wanted to cum, he was so close. Castiel pulled her hands away, grabbing at his body as she surged up to kiss him. 

“God Dean, I haven’t felt… like this in so long. Can I fuck you?” Castiel asked, huffed against his cheek as he kissed down her jaw. It was like a rushed fever had washed over them, an overwhelming need. 

“Yes please please fuck me fill me up.” Dean begged and Castiel was standing, hands hauling him up with her. 

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking perfect, so strong, fuck me momma, fuck me” Dean cried as he was carried through the house, loving the view of Castiel’s boobs where they pressed up against his sternum. He shoved his forehead against the top of her head, taking in the sweet scent of her hair. 

She got through to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind her, and dropped him on the bed. He shoved himself up to be in the center of the bed. She was quick to shove her slacks off and to crawl over him. She straddled him looking down at his red cunt and throbbing cock. He reached up to play with her tits, roll her nipples between his fingers and squish them together. 

“What’re you gonna fuck me with? What’re you gonna shove in my cunny?” Dean asked, setting what he wanted his junk to be called. She smiled and leaned down to kiss him, guiding his legs apart so she was knelt between them, not letting each other get very far. 

“I’m gonna fuck you… I’m gonna put my… I don’t wanna say it. I wanna put it in but I don't want to say… those words.” She said, self conscious about saying cock or dick or anything else. She didn’t wanna think about that. 

“Okay, just stuff me momma, I’m… I’m dying for it” Dean said and looked down to where her panties were bulging out in the front. She was so pretty, her thighs looked strong and he liked the way she had a happy trail which he traced down, it was soft and short. 

She knelt up and covered the trail and her bulge, looking away, face turning even more red. 

“If I knew I would have company I would have shaved… I haven’t um… I’m not very smooth down there.” She explained and he huffed and shook his head. He usually kept himself trimmed with his electric trimmer just because he liked it. He reached down and moved her hands. 

“I think it’s cute. I think this is cute too…” Dean said with his bottom lip caught in his teeth as he traced down her bulge. She leaned down and kissed him again smiling against each other, so comfortable. 

“Am I still a pretty lady with this?” She said and when she leaned back she pulled her panties down so her cock could slip out from behind the thick cotton fabric. Dean looked at it with hungry eyes and a wolfish grin. 

“Prettiest lady I’ve ever seen…” He said and let one of his hands wrap around it and give it a few strokes… goodness he could barely get his hard around it and it was… at least eight inches long. 

“That’s… that’s big. Uh you have any lube?” He asked, nervousness creeping into his voice as he took in how… heavy and long and thick her cock was… hell his toy was probably half as big. 

“Yeah I do. But there is something else I wanna do…” Cas said, letting her hips roll up into his hand a few times before nipping at his neck and pulling away. Dean looked at her eyes and then at the big thing in his hand, that would not fit in his mouth but but she was so… he would choke on it if she asked. 

“I could- I’d you wanna- I mean-” Dean started but she was quick to press a kiss to quiet him. 

“Can I blow you, Dean?” She asked, hand going down to lightly dance over his inner thighs, sticky with drying slick, shaking with desperation. He was nodding, eyes squeezed shut, trying not to cry out. 

“Fuck… yeah. Yeah you can gimme head” Dean finally struggled out after cracking his eyes open to see Castiel perfectly content petting around his inner thighs and just above where he wished she would touch. She smiled and kissed his lips before making her way down to his dripping cunt and hard cock. 

----

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum. Fuck, Cas, Cassy, I’m gonna cum” Dean cried out as Cas kept on just barely grazing her teeth over his cock, keeping her fingers rubbing at all the good spots inside him. 

She pulled back, sucking harshly as she did, cock leaving her lips with a pop. She looked up at him and stilled her fingers, she had a devilish smile on her lips and shook her head. She blew out a cold breath onto him, causing him to shiver and whimper. 

“No! No no no I can go again. I can’t can fuck like four times no problem please please lemme cum” Dean begged, he was at his limit, he felt like he was burning alive, tears rolling down the sides of his face, throat nearly sore from yelling out. 

“Oh I dunno… you’re cocks pretty hard, might just wanna play with it all night” Castiel taunted, nail coming to run up the bottom of it and flick the tip of it. Dean cried out, hips bucking up and hands finally leaving the sheets and grabbing at Castiel’s hands. 

“Please momma lemme cum and I’ll take you so good, all the way, I’ll be so good if you lemme cum.” Dean tried to convince and his voice cracked and… well Castiel couldn’t turn him down when he looked so… pathetically attractive like a wet cat. 

“Then I guess it’s fine” Castiel said in a fake put out kinda way and pinched the nub between her fingers and started jerking him quickly and harshly. Dean cried out, quivering against the bed. He was screaming out legs going to wrap around Cas’s waist, crushing her tightly. 

“Cas! Fuck! Fuck! Please! God Fuh! Momma, god, yes, yes, yes yesyesyes” Dean begged and grabbed onto the sheets so tight it felt like he could rip through them. He took in one big breath and let out a high pitched moan, feeling like his brain turned off as wave after wave of pleasure twisted him all up and untied all at once. He relaxed down to feeling like jelly against the bed, catching his breath. 

Cas shushed him, gently running her hands over his belly, up and down his sides, on the outsides of his legs. She was staring down at where he was dripping, her white blanket turning dark with how much he’d cum, how wet he’d gotten. She ran her fingers through it, up and down over his folds. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay, what a good boy. Such a good boy. Look at that... Came all over mumma’s fingers. Look at that…” She said and brought her dripping hand up to her mouth, his rich lovely scent encompassing all her senses. God he tasted good. God she was hard, her heart was in knots too though. She moaned around her fingers, groaning at how he tasted, smelled, how he everything.

“That’s not fair…” Dean groaned as he finally came down, watching her lick his slick off her hand. Castiel smiled and dropped her hand to give her cock a few tight strokes, staring down at him, all tan muscles and wet cunt. 

“I don’t care. Can I put this in now?” Cas said and scooted up to slap her cock against his folds. She smiled at him, tongue poked between her teeth. Dean closed his eyes, he just came but… it was like his mind was made of putty and she had her hands in it. 

“Oh momma… yeah. Yeah fuck me deep. Put it in my cunt.” He whimpered and pulled her down for a kiss, her breast squishing against his chest. 

Castiel guided her cock into him, panting against his neck. Dean whimpered and held her around her shoulders, he tried to relax but god… it kinda hurt. He really wasn’t used to things that big being… crammed into him. 

“Cas… cas… It’s too big I can’t, it’s gonna hurt me” Dean said sorrowfully and looked heartbroken when Cas pulled out a bit and got on her hands over him, He didn’t wanna look at her… he hated being looked at like this when he was getting fucked. 

“I don’t think this is a good position, I’m not fond of… well humping like an animal.” She said and that caused them both to crack up as she pulled out and they sat across from each other, each a little amused with the situation. 

“Ya know I’ve never met a gal like you before.” Dean said, leaning his head against his shoulder, looking at her as she sat down across legged, cock still hard between her legs. She looked at him with a look that was… it made him feel sparkling. 

“I’ve never met a man like you either.” She said and then a thought popped into her head. Dean was about to say something but she cut him off, crawling toward him to kiss him and smile. 

“I know the perfect thing, move over.” She said and laid down, unclipping her hair and throwing the clip to the side, waist length hair falling down around her like a dark halo. Dean watched and man… she was pretty. He was lucky as hell, huh?

“Okay now you get like you’re gonna fuck me and and lemme pull my legs up.” Cas said excitedly as she pulled her knees to her chest. Dean got between them and looked at her funny, what was she doing?

“Okay see, now just… lean forward, I’m flexible, don't worry…” She said and pulled him down over her so he was pinning her down. She smiled and moved her hands between them, guiding her cock back up to his cunt. Dean looked down at her, this was… it was like he was fucking her position wise. But also… it wouldn’t offer a lot of penetration. 

“Man… I knew you could teach me” He said and smiled as he leaned down to kiss her, she held her cock up for him to lower down on it. Castiel huffed as he lowered down onto her, he was so warm and wet and tight. 

“That’s good Dean… Now fuck me.” Castiel said and it only took Dean a few tried to get the hang of it, he had to kinda rock back and forth and not really thrust but fuck it was good. He never felt so good and Castiel made such pretty sounds, eyes closed and lips in a perfect O. 

----

“Do you wanna get a shower with me?” Cas asked as they came down, laying next to each other covered in sweat and cum. Cas had reassured him that she had a vasectomy and that she was clean, he’d said fuck it to a condom. Dean had rode her until she’d cum, filling him, and then had gotten too strained and rode her regularly, until he’d cum again, her fingers on his cock. 

Dean was just barely awake, struggling to not doze off on the soft cozy comfort of her bed. It had been so long since he’d had the comfort of a warm bed, and a cuddle, and a shower without having to look for roaches or used condoms. 

“God yes, last time I showered I had to wear boots because of the fungus.” Dean said and sat up, a twinge in his back but a dull perfect ache inside himself. Castiel chuckled and looked over at him, hand coming up to trace shapes in his lower back. 

“Sounds gross, lucky for you I’m a clean freak so.. No fungus.” She said and sat up, holding the blanket over her chest. Her nipples ached a bit from Dean’s toying with them so much, well toying and sucking and biting and damn she had class to teach tomorrow she’d need to put bandaids over them. Dean groaned when he stood up, slick and jizz sliding down his legs, Cas stared cause fuck that’s… 

“Are you gonna eat me, Miss Novak? Naughty naughty, I thought you were a sweet gal.” He said teasingly, pulling his ass apart to both show where he was dripping and to spread himself just enough for another rush of cum to slip out of him. Cas was nearly hard again when she saw that. 

“Now, now, that’s asking for trouble” She said and looked back at Dean’s smiling face. God he was cute. He turned back to her, shameless of his form. 

“Come on, I don’t like being sticky, makes me sad.” He said, looking down face pulling into a sad expression. Cas stood up, pulled him into a kiss, a soft gentle kiss. 

“It’s okay, I’m not fond of being naked or sticky.” She said and pulled him to the bathroom right outside the bedroom, she was quick to pull him behind the glass door and turn the hot water on. 

“It’s so late, I have a class at nine tomorrow.” Castiel complained  as she stood under the water, letting it hit her in the face and soak through her hair. Dean hugged her from behind, resting his head against her shoulder. 

“Sorry, I can leave now if you want” Dean offered, stepping away from her, he’d leave if she wanted, it wasn’t very far to the impala. Castiel turned around and pulled him under the water as she stepped back out of it. 

“Aw but how sad to sleep alone when I have a big strong man to hold me.” She said which caused Dean to smile and kiss her. They kissed a bit more before the woman got a bottle of body wash and a bath sponge. 

“Oou… frilly. I feel so pampered.” Dean said jokily as she started scrubbing him down, smiling at him. She let her hands wash him, a weird feeling of… content enjoyment as he basked in the warm water. She got a little lost in the movement of it, that was until she was on her knees in front of him and felt his hand on her shoulder. 

“Cas, get up.” He said, not looking at her, just looking kinda sour to the side. She rose up, looking at her with her head cocked to the side, confused. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked but Dean was pulling her into a hug. She hugged him back but he wouldn’t let go, He just held onto her, water hitting his back. She rubbed his back and felt him sniffle once before pulling away. She held his face in her hands and she kissed all over his face, cheek, forehead, nose, chin, everywhere. 

“So emotional, do you need mummy to kiss it better?” She asked, only sorta kidding. Dean cracked a smile and nodded and they kissed again, Cas loving the way Dean was. Just everything about him. 

“Why’re you so hot and so sweet? Why’re you just… lovin on me?” Dean asked and kept his forehead leaning on her shoulder. 

“Cause I like you” She said and held him. She did like him. He was cute and funny and kind and she just felt pulled to him. He huffed a laugh and pulled back to look at her, all soaked from the shower and gleaming with post orgasm glow. 

“Yeah I like you too” He agreed and made her smile as his hands traveled back up to her boobs. 

“You like me or you like my tits, cause they were expensive” She said and he laughed and bent down to kiss and lick them for just a moment before kissing her. 

“Boobs are definitely a plus. Uh… is it weird if I ask you on a date?” Dean asked and looked at her for a minute as she turned the water off, she was rinsed it was enough. She could shower in the morning. 

“Do my boobs get to come too?” She joked and he nodded, smiling widely, eyes scrunching up.

“They can definitely come too, also can I borrow some pants?” He asked and soon they were snuggled in bed, dirty blanket tossed to the floor and new one pulled from the closet. Dean was out like a light, enjoying the company and comfort. 

---

It was easy to find work. Cas let him stay, promising he’d be good. They slept together and Cas learned that he could cook an amazing breakfast and a mean burger but also loved milkshakes and smoothies. Dean learned that Cas had… quite a sex toy collection. Dildos, vibrators, beads, rings, all sorts of stuff that made Dean’s little blue dildo seem like a household decoration. 

She had also given him enough confidence to talk to Sam. He had turned away and left when he’d seen his brother one too many times, just not having the guts to say something. 

So one Thursday when he knew Sam would be walking through the parking lot he was waiting. Well not waiting. Cas didn’t have a class for another two hours so they had gotten lunch and Dean was napping off his carbs while Cas was reading papers in the front seat of the impala. It was a beautiful day so the windows were down and Dean only had Cas’s soft cardigan thrown over him. 

“Hey De- Professor Novak? Why’re you in my brother’s car? I didn’t know-” Sam said as he spotted the impala and came up to see his brother. He hadn’t talked to Dean since he left for college. He loved Dean, never really saw him as a sister anyway. However he was incredibly surprised when he saw the theology prof in Dean’s car. Especially when he didn’t know Dean even knew the professor. 

“Dean, sweety, wake up. Sorry we just had lunch.” Cas said and reached over to stroke through Dean’s hair which was usually a major no go. Sam gawked at them when he saw that. He looked at Dean who yawned and sat up. 

“You’re boning. Jesus! Dean, I haven’t seen you in like a year and you come and smash one of the professors!? You dickbag!” Sam said and stepped away from the car and turned back to it, hands on his hips. 

“Technically she smashes me but whatever. I need to talk to you but uh… I’m gonna be in town for a while.” Dean said and leaned over the front seat, shit eating grin pasted on his face as Cas smacked his arm and shook her head at his nasty talk. 

“Smashing the theology professor. You’re a dog, you know that?” Sam said and climbed into the driver’s seat leaning over to give Dean a half hug. It was still nice to see him. 

#egg_company #fanfic #smut tag #dean x castiel #castiel supernatural #castiel #destiel fic #destiel #destiel smut #dean winchester #trans castiel #trans dean winchester #f/m #smut fanfiction #supernatural smut

[demisexual-eddie-diaz]

someone ask me things I’m so bored I’m begging you

#formula 1 #f1 #max verstppen #charles leclerc #max verstappen x charles leclerc #lestappen #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 #gay #destiel #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel novak #transmaculine #trans #mlm #boy kisser #asks open #send asks #please #i’m bored #im begging #im gay as fuck #i’m so sorry #i had to

[callmehector]

*Everywhere I go by Hollywood Undead playing in the background*

Dean(singing along): 🎶When I start drinking my dick does all my thinking🎶

Sam: De- Dean, you don't have a dick

Dean: Exactly

#dean winchester #destiel #spn #supernatural #dean x castiel #sam winchester #spn crack #trans dean winchester #trans male #ftm #sam is done with dean #sam and dean

[carry-on-my-wayward-sunshine]

transfem lesbian dean winchester and transfem agender bisexual castiel PLEASE SOMEONE DRAW THIS I NEED FEM DESTIEL

#destiel #castiel #spn #spnfandom #deancas #dean x castiel #dean winchester #trans t4t #t4t #transgirl #lesbians! #supernatural #destiel otp #headcanons #i love them your honor #destiel headcanon #supernatural headcanon #lgbtqia

[theaxolotlkween]

I finally updated my Supernatural and Danny Phantom crossover. 

Summary:

Danny has been on the run for several days after an incident with his godfather forced him to escape from Wisconsin. He doesn't expect for a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala to pull over or the hunters driving it to rescue him and basically adopt him.

#danny phantom #supernatural #superphantom #danny phantom fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #danny fenton #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #trans danny phantom #dean x castiel #destiel #vlad plasmius #theaxolotlwrites

[asgardianhusband]

|Supernatural|Guys reacting to you Coming out as Trans(FTM);

{Requested}

A/N; This one was one of my Favorite Requests ngl c: I Hope you enjoy it! [I didn’t include John bc #Johnwinchestersucks sry but not sry] as a Trans guy this hit me like harder then i expected. also sorry for any spelling errors :) <3

CW: Mentioned Dysphoria, mentioned violence ?

“Hey Dean? I need to talk to you, it’s important.” You walked towards him, your eyes were pointed at the Floor and your Hands started to shake.

“What is it?” He turned around and gave you a knowing look, Dean always knew when something was up.

You took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes “Dean, I’m not a girl. I’ve known for some time now but I was to afraid to say something, I want to be a boy!” Your eyes immediately looked away, you were to scared to see the look on his face.

Before you knew it, Two strong arms were wrapped around you Hugging you tightly. “I’m so happy for you, My dude.” He gave you a kiss on the forehead and smiled, It was a genuine smile and felt so good to see on his face. “So What should we call you now? Something like Dean jr?” He laughed and laid a hand on your shoulder, a smile formed on your face when you told him your name.

“Y/N, that’s my name.” He patted your shoulder softly while giving you up and down look. “Well Y/N seems like we need to go shopping for you, but for now-“ he paused and walked up to his bag with clothes, he searched for a bit and then threw a shirt and flannel your way. “Here, it’s gonna suit you just fine boy.” He turned around to give you a big smile. “Thanks, Dean.” You said before leaving the room to change in your new clothes.

When Sammy first started to notice how uncomfortable you looked in your clothes, He gave you a shirt of his and said that you might grow into it someday. He wasn’t really shocked when you cut your hair or started to change your appearance to look more masculine, He was actually the one to come up to you and ask:

“Hey, You? Uhm Do you want to tell me something?” Sam asked while he looked at his Laptop, you were sitting across the table playing with you hoodie. “What would I want to tell you?” you haven’t had the courage to come out not because you didn’t trust him but more because it would be difficult to be seen as a Hunter by some people.

“Maybe a new name? A day when you want to get some fitting clothes for yourself?” He looked up and smiled softly, your eyes widened as you looked at him. “N-name?” You weren’t aware that he knew what was going on, you thought if Dean didn’t notice why would He?.

“Come on, I see how you’re struggling. Do you really think I’m that blind? You can always trust me, I’ll always be here for you.” Your eyes were tearing up at that assurance coming from Sam, he stood up and went over to squat down before you. “Hey hey, look at me. It’s all gonna be okay.” He laid his hand on you cheek and wiped away a tear.

“My name is Y/N and I want to be a guy.” You said proudly, Sam’s face showed pure happiness. “I’m so proud of you Y/N, that was very brave of you dude.” Sam stood up and held his arms open, you immediately stood up and hugged him. He patted your back and for the first time in a long time you felt very good in your own skin.

“Hey Kiddo, give me the wrench will yah?” Bobby asked while he Worked on the motor of his current car, you gave him the wrench he asked for and continued to stare at the blue-grey sky. “Hey, are you alright?” He asked concerned as he looked at you while closing the engine hood, He had that worried father look on his face that you knew way to well by now. You didn’t know if he would accept you, he was born into the older generation so he might not support it? Maybe he would abandon you for being different? Maybe he would think you were just as bad as the other monsters that you had to face everyday.

“I have to tell you something but I’m scared you won’t accept it or you will hate me.” You said while looking down at the ground trying to keep your tears from spilling, He put the wrench down and laid his hand on your head. “Nothing that you could tell me would ever change my opinion about you, Idjit.” He removed his hand as your head lifted up to look at him, now was the time. “I want to be a boy, I spent so much time convincing myself that it was a phase but I’m absolutely sure.” You said with confidence before your feelings boiled up and your eyes started to tear up.

“Hey hey, don’t start crying now! You know I can’t see you cry, boy.” He hugged you and held you in his arms, The way he said boy made you feel Butterfly’s in your stomach, it just felt so right to hear that. “Tell me son, what’s your name?” Your smile was genuine when you heard him say son. “Y/N, that’s my name.” He slowly ended the embrace and gave you a big smile, He was so proud of you for telling him. He doesn’t quiet understand it yet but he will make sure to learn and adapt to your situation. “Alright Y/N, I think it’s time for you to learn some important men stuff.” He chuckled and gave you a pat on the back.

When you first approached Castiel you worried about his judgement, since you did Love him a lot and didn’t want him to hate you. Your nervousness could be seen all over your body, Shaky hands, No eye contact, not standing still, these were all signs that cas knew way to well. „Is there something wrong?“ His soft voice echoed through your mind as you came back from your thoughts, You nodded and took a deep breath.

„Castiel, there is something that I need you to know. I‘ve been struggling with this for a long time now but I didn’t know if you would still accept me or if you even understand what I mean but-„ He stopped your ramble by Laying his hand on the side of your Face. „It’s okay, You don’t have to explain right away. Just tell me, there will never be something that will change my View of you.“ those words felt so good in your mind, He always knew how to calm you down when you were about to go loco.

„I‘m a Boy, cass. I want to be who I truely am, I don’t want to be The person you were introduced to.“ Cas tilted his head as if he was confused but then gave you the most genuine smile you‘ve ever saw. „Of course you are a boy, I knew that already. I‘ve been waiting for you to announce a new name, what will it be?“ You smiled and tears of joy rolled down your face, Cas used his thumb to rub away one of the tears. „It’s Y/N.“ he nodded approvingly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. „Welcome Home Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you.“ he opened his arms and you embraced him tightly. You never expected him to be this accepting but you hoped for it, He was way to important to you and you just didn’t want to loose what you two had.

If there was an Angel That you genuine liked then it was Balthazar, he might be a sarcastic and mean one but he was very fun and chill to hang out with. He never judged you not even once, You killed a lot of his brothers and sisters before but it was necessary most of the time. You‘ve felt like it couldn’t go wrong when you out yourself to him and well that feeling turned out to be right.

Just as you walked into his ‚Secret Hideout‘ aka a mansion somewhere in nowhere when He appeared in front of you smiling like he knows something that you don’t. „Look before you start, I know you don’t like surprises but-„ you stopped him by giving him a ‚what did you do‘ glare, He sighed and smiled again. „Look i know what you want to tell me, I may or may not have catched you practice your lines last night.“

He took your hands and gave them a squeeze „Y/N was it?“ this right there was the moment you realized you aren’t strong enough to stop your feelings from embarrassing you, your eyes started to tear up quickly. Tears of pure joy and relief ran down your face as Balthazar pulled out a tissue out of his pocket to give to you. „Don’t cry Darling, there is no need for that.“ after you wiped your tears away, He looked at you concerned. „There might be something that could help you.“ he snapped and a Binder appeared in his hand, he held it out to you and smiled. „This will make your everyday a little more comfier, but take it off after 8 hours max if not I will.“ He said serious before a chuckle left his mouth, You hugged him as a thanks and went to the bathroom to test your new binder out.

„Huh?“ you entered your motel room just to find A package on your table and you didn’t put it there before you left. „Hello?“ you shouted to make sure that no one was there and when there was no answer, you approached the package with care and tried to read a name but there was only a Small piece of paper on top. You picked the paper up and unfolded it just to read „Miss me?“ you were confused but then you heard wings move and before you knew it someone shouted „Surprise!“ which startled you into a fight position, you turned around just to relax after you saw the Archangels face.

„Hey baby, did you miss me?“ he said mockingly before taking your hand, His expression went from happy to serious. „Something is different, What happened to your Hair? And is that a Stubble?“ you haven’t seen Gabriel after his ‚Death‘ And before that you weren’t able to come out since you had other things that troubled you, you started your transition about 2 months afterwards and since then you‘ve been changing into your true self. „Gabe, there has happened so much. The only thing that matters is that I found my true self and I’m happy with that!“ you said in defense, you‘re so used to defending your choices against others but there was no need for it this time.

„Hey hey Pumpkin pie, no need to get defensive.“ he smirked as he placed his hands on your shoulders. „You might change but your feelings are the same, aren’t they?“ He said in a soft tone while giving you puppy eyes „Yes, They are. I‘m Y/N by the way.“ you said smiling, The trickster cupped your face in his hands and kissed you quick before letting go. „Y/N, this is how I greet my Boys.“ he laughed mockingly before throwing himself onto the bed „come on open the box, it’s a big surprise!“ You did what he asked for and we’re quite surprised that it was full of Food and goodies, he knew exactly how grateful you were even if you just let a „thanks“ out.

„Hello L/N, Nice to see you again.“ He said charming as ever, You stood in front of him with Teary eyes. „Hello Crowley, I want to make a deal.“ His expression changed into a serious one, he approached you to stand closer to your face. „What happened?“ He asked as he looked at your Black eye, You put your hand in front of your eye. „Nothing, it’s not important let’s just get this over with!“ you said demanding, He didn’t move at all while starring at you. „Alright, What is your wish?“ „I want to be a Men, Like beard and testosterone and everything!“ He raised his eyebrows in Surprise, he did all kind of jokes on you when he first met you like ‚Are you supposed to be a man?‘ ‚Oh look it’s my favorite boy‘ but he didn’t expect you to ask him that neither that you would be willing to make a deal with him for less then what your soul is worth. „A men? Listen here this is not happening okay? Your soul is worth so much more then To appear masculine for others.“ His voice was As low and gravely as ever „Tell me who did this to you, now!“ He put his hand against your cheek to hold your face in place, The worried and yet angry lokk on his face made you feel sad. "Look i can fight my own fights against others crowley, Just please help me with this one. i can´t fight this anymore. Everyday is getting harder and i´m just suffering more and more." You let out a sigh, You tried to get on hormone therapy in a legal way but they denied it after two appointments. " I Will make a Deal with you but you can keep your Soul for now." He said in a calming way that made you relax for once. "I don´t understand, Why would pass up this opportunity?" he gave you a soft smile "Because i want you to be happy, we will do this together alright? no going off alone anymore." you nodded and he came closer before you gave him the sealing kiss. Suddendly your body changed and everything felt so right, after you thought it stopped you walked to the nearest Mirror/Glass to see your true self standing infront of you, the boy that you´ve alway been. "So how about a new name, hm?" You turned around with happy tears running down your face "Y/N.. that´s my name.." You hugged him tightly "Alright Y/N, i´m happy you can finally be happy as yourself." and before you released him out of the hug you whispered a soft "Thank you.." it made the demons heart melt...

#supernatural crowley x reader #supernatural #supernatural x reader #x trans reader #lgbtqplus #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam and dean #spn #castiel #castiel novak #baltazar #gabriel x reader #spn balthazar #spn gabriel #dean x trans reader #sam x trans rader #sam x male reader #dean x male reader #castiel x male reader #crowley x male reader #angst and fluff #angst and humor #spn fluff #dean winchester fluff #bobby singer #trans visibility

[pickledpascal]

Meat & Candy

Chapter One

Warnings: none really, just cas being a simp already.

Word Count: 1.6k

Meat & Candy Masterlist

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Castiel typed at his desk. He was just finishing up one of his reviews on a recent restaurant that opened up a few weeks ago. It was good for a night out with friends, which wasn’t bad, but it was nothing to rave about.

“Novak,” Crowley. The head editor of the Chicago Tribune and the one who basically ran the place. “Walk with me.” 

Castiel scrambled to stand as Crowley began to walk to his office. Quickly, he gathered his footing and made it to his office. “Yes?” He asked. Even after all the time he’s worked there and knew Crowley, there was still something unsettling about the man. Maybe it was the accent and all the dark-colored suits he wore to work each day. 

“I have your new assignment.” He hummed with a wave of his hand. “He’s some up-and-coming, big-deal chef. I want you to interview him.”

Castiel faltered slightly. Sure, his entire thing at the Tribune was about food and this was great because it was related but he had never done an interview before. He was content simply writing reviews about new restaurants, he didn’t want there to be any bad blood between him and the owners in case he wrote something they didn’t like that was personal. 

“Why can’t Anna or Zachariah take this?” Castiel asked, wringing his hands.

Crowley cocked an eyebrow at Castiel. “They don’t write like you do.” While that was a compliment, Castiel couldn't help but feel off-put by it. “Plus, you’ve been wanting something more challenging for a while, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then I want you to go home tonight, research Dean Winchester, and come up with a line of questions. The interview is tomorrow at one. The restaurant is called Crossroads.” Crowley’s tone held no room for argument. 

Castiel let out a reluctant sigh. “Alright. Do I at least get a bonus for this?” He tried softly.

Crowley looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. Then he thought it over. “I could give you five percent.” 

Five percent is better than nothing. Half his colleagues barely got any raises. But as Crowley said, no one wrote like Castiel. He gave Crowley a half-hearted smile in return. 

Castiel loved his job, he really did, but even he had his moments. Moments where he hated it with a burning passion. Moments where he hated everyone he worked with. Well, besides a few people he liked but even they could get on his nerves if they really wanted or he had a particularly horrible day. 

He started to get tired of it more often than not. 

He barely had any time for his daughter and, when he did, it was after work and he didn't want to do anything. He loathed that even more. He felt like he was going a step in the wrong direction when it came to the parenting department.

Castiel came home to see Claire lounging on the couch as he set his keys on their designated holder. He had a townhouse just outside the city in Cicero. It was nice and cozy. He didn't need much more space, it was perfect for him. He wasn't so sure how Claire felt about it though.

“Hey, I'm gonna make some pasta real quick. That okay?” He called as he entered the kitchen. Claire let out an affirmative hum as a response.

For someone who wrote about food for a living, Castiel's home meals were nothing fancy. But they got the job done. And Claire didn't complain much. 

“How was school?” Castiel asked as they sat down for dinner. This was some of the only time he was able to spend with her and he cherished it deeply.

Claire shrugged. “The same. Mrs. Butters sucks. Mrs. Mills is great. Kaia and I had lunch together.” 

Castiel nodded, pursing his lips. As much as he loved and yearned for this time with Claire, sometimes he had no idea what to do with it once he got it. 

“So…. Anything cool you get to write about?” Claire asked as she twirled some spaghetti on her fork.

Castiel pushed the noodles around in his bowl. “I have an interview with a chef tomorrow.”

Claire perked up. “Really? Who?”

“Not Gordon Ramsay.” Castiel chuckled. He knew of this generation’s love for the hot-headed chef. But Cas had to admit the guy's food was pretty good. Claire shrugged like she was half-expecting it to be him but looked at Cas expectantly anyway. “It's some new guy—he’s opening his first restaurant. Dean Winchester. It’s called Crossroads.” 

Claire pursed her lips, “Some of my friends were talking about it. Well,” She let out a breathy laugh. “More like their parents were talking about it and they were talking to me about how their parents were talking about it.” Castiel nodded for her to continue, intrigued. “Kaia’s mom said she saw the sign being put up on Michigan Ave a few days ago. They were thinking about going when it opened.” 

Thoughts spiraled inside Castiel's head. There was already this air about Crossroads in the public mind. Then again, this was Chicago . Sure, when most people talked about American cuisine, they mentioned New York or LA or maybe even Texas before Chicago but the city had its own, unique food identity—mainly described with deep dish pizza and perfected hot dogs but there was so much more than just that. Restaurants opened and closed every day in the city, but not all of them created a buzz around it. 

No, Crossroads was different. Castiel could sense it. He just needed to figure out why.

He hoped his time with Dean would shed some light on that. However, he needed to research him first. Perhaps that would help.

That's how he found himself, sitting in the middle of his bed with his laptop in front of him and a notebook off to the side, a single lamp on in his room, as he scribbled down as many notes as possible to figure out what the hell he wanted to talk about with Head Chef Dean Winchester. 

Castiel was only able to find so much. Dean Winchester wasn't mentioned nearly at all online. Nearly no social media presence at all except for the restaurant’s Instagram page and a few pictures Dean posted to his personal account except none of them showed his face, just a few pictures of the interior and exterior of the restaurant and, who Castiel assumed was, his daughter. But Castiel was a journalist for a reason so he searched harder.

He found out that he used to be a line cook for a nearby bar on Route 66. The Roadhouse. Owned by Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle. The reviews were good from what he saw but it wasn't the type of restaurant Dean was opening. Not from what he assumed. Crowley wouldn't be giving him this interview if it was just some run-of-the-mill bar and restaurant. 

Castiel wanted to know why Dean wanted this change. The change from something more comfortable and homey to something more upscale and perhaps “snooty.” 

Throughout his search, he found an old local newspaper article with Roadhouse on the face of it dated 1999. There was a picture of the cooks at work. Dean Winchester was framed to be in the center as he looked over the stove, caring for a steaming burger.

Castiel was stunned. His throat felt dry. He swallowed thickly and then took a sip from the water sitting on his nightstand.

Sure, the picture was old and he knew Dean would likely look different but, God, the man looked incredible. Dean wore a tight-fitting black T-shirt with an apron around his waist but it was his face that intrigued Cas more. The sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his eyes—the color of his eyes—the wisp of his eyelashes, the way his freckles contrasted against his light, sweaty skin. That bead of sweat on his cheek that looked like a tear needed a raise. Whoever took that photo needed a raise, wherever they were. 

Thankfully, the article had more than just Castiel's first look at Dean Winchester.

Dean was not only Bobby and Ellen’s line cook but also their adoptive son. Castiel's eyebrow cocked at that. That didn't exactly answer his question but he'd tuck that information away for later. He scribbled the piece of information down. 

After finding not much else, Castiel scratched at his stubble—noting it might be time for a shave. He had to go the generic route, which he loathed. Even if he didn't want to do the interview to begin with, something inside him wanted it to be different than the ones he'd usually read in the Times. 

He wrote down a few quick questions and reordered them a few times to see how they flowed better. Would this one work better before or after this one? Which should be the last question? What about the first? He scratched out a few he didn't think would work. Too generic. So much so it made his skin crawl. 

Castiel wanted his questions to open up conversation, not simply be yes or no questions. His journalist heart liked hearing stories, it was like peeking into a small window of someone's life at a particular moment. He hoped Dean had plenty to share with him. 

#destiel #deancas #trans!dean x castiel #castiel #castiel novak #spn #spn fanfic #jensen ackles #supernatural #transgender #queer #misha collins #fluff #chef au #au #crowley #claire novak #crossroads #journalism #chicago

[supernaturalscribe67]

Family Don't End in Blood

Words: 8,170

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: TFW x Trans!FTM!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Transphobia, Homophobia, Slurs (f-slur/t-slur), Childhood Trauma, PTSD, Language, Mention of Childhood Abuse, Mention of Neglect of a Child, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Deadname mentioned ( [D/N] = Deadname )

Summary: 

The past is a crazy concept, isn’t it? A chain of events that happened before a certain time, constructed of words and actions that cannot be altered.

The reader lived a great life in the bunker. He had everything that he could ever ask for - people who loved him, a roof over his head, and the perfect support system. But, when a ghost from his past reappears, the reader must face his demons and come face to face with the two people who made his life a living hell; his parents.

A/N: The names and likenesses presented in this story are not meant to represent any specific person or persons. Feedback is much appreciated. DO NOT READ if any of the warnings are triggering to you! Keep yourselves healthy, keep yourselves safe!

Much love~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The past is a crazy concept, isn’t it? A chain of events that happened before a certain time, constructed of words and actions that cannot be altered. People say to leave the past behind you. That it’s meant to be left alone, to be forgotten, in some instances more than others. One would assume that it would be an easy task to do such. You get sucked into the rhythm of day-to-day life and, suddenly, the past is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter what Carol K. said in the fourth grade behind your back to her group of preppy rich girls, or what you received on the last Halloween you ever went trick-or-treating before you realized you were too old. What happened, happened, and now you have to trek through your daily life like you know what you’re doing or what the future holds. 

A funny thing about the past is that it has a habit of creeping up on us when we least expect it. Most are in the form of a familiar song, simple words or phrases used in everyday speech, or a meal that one may not have had for years. Instances like that trigger nostalgia, sometimes bringing about good memories, while others remind people of the terrors that they had once faced. For some, however, the past doesn’t resurface at the mere mention of a street name or the town one used to live. Some are contacted by the ghosts of who they once were. The ghosts that still haunt the deepest crevices of their mind, shut away in a box as a form of comfort to get through life without having to relive the pain the spirits put them through. Sometimes those spirits get loud, and sometimes those spirits get out. 

(Y/N)’s ghosts broke out of his box a week prior, on a sunny afternoon that was spent cooped up in the Men of Letters Bunker. Everything about that day had been normal. He got up, made himself some breakfast, and watched some television while he relaxed before retreating to the quiet library with his computer. He took the time to scour the endless news articles in an attempt to find a hunt, something Sam was more adept at, but gave up thirty minutes in. Just as he was about to turn off his computer to find another way to occupy himself, his phone began to buzz beside him. The number on the screen caused his heart to stop, his skin to pale, and his eyes to widen. 

It was his ghost. 

She had broken out. 

He wasn’t going to answer. Everything in his body was telling him that it would be the worst thing that would happen to him if he picked up the phone, but morbid curiosity can make a person do things that they don’t want to do. So he picked up the phone and, for the first time in over a decade, he heard his mother’s voice. 

He wasn’t too sure how mentally present he was during the duration of the conversation, some of the things that they talked about were easily forgotten, but there were several things that he noted while they talked. Her voice was different since the last time they conversed, probably due to the Marlboros she snuck now and then behind the garage. He doubted she had broken her habit after he left. Her tone of voice was still the same, though. A sickeningly sweet voice that could fool anyone, and had fooled him more times than he could count on both of his hands. Even as they spoke, the voice was getting to him, telling him that things had changed. That they were different. That they were the way they were supposed to be. The other part of him, the sane part, told him how crazy he was for even thinking such thoughts. 

The major part of the conversation that stuck out to him was his mother’s request, something that caught him completely off guard.

“Why don’t you and your friends come down next week? Have dinner with us? It’s been so quiet since you left, and we really need to catch up!”

Lights flashed, alarms blared, and red flags were scattered around his mind. A warning sign to make up an excuse, to tell her that he had other plans, that they were far too busy to make a silly trip down to see his parents. Alas, the other part of him was whispering in his ear, begging him for closure. Begging for some type of reconciliation. Begging for the parents that he always longed for. What started as whispers had turned into screams. 

He blamed the curiosity for giving in. 

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, sweetheart! We can’t wait to see you! I know how happy your father is going to be. He’s going to be over the moon when I tell him he’s going to see his little girl again.”

It was easy enough to convince Sam, Dean, and Castiel to join him on his trip back to his hometown. Some questions were asked and some of them were answered, some with honesty, others with vague responses. He wasn’t sure he had completely recovered yet from the conversation. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to. Even the days leading up to the dinner seemed to slow to a snail’s pace, almost as if time itself had been affected by their phone call as if the universe tapped into his increasing anxiety. 

(Y/N) wasn’t fit to drive, his mind not yet returning to the present. Dean sat behind the wheel of his Impala, asking periodically for directions. From the backseat, (Y/N) would mumble out each response, his eyes cast out the window at the passing scenery. The words of the ghost repeated in his head as they drove. 

“He’s going to be over the moon when I tell him he’s going to see his little girl again…”

“...his little girl again…” 

“...his little girl…”

“...little girl…”

“...girl…”

GIRL.

(Y/N) came out to his parents when he was eighteen, and that decision changed the course of his life forever. When he walked in, the fear stirred inside of his chest like a hurricane about to strike the shore, he could never fathom what harsh words and actions would have come as a result of him doing so. The hurricane inside of his chest had been released into the house, sending a whirlwind of profanity and shattering objects every which way. He wondered if the living room still had the hole in the wall from when his father broke his mother’s antique vase against it. Going into the initial conversation, he expected some hesitancy, some disappointed looks, perhaps, but the outcome was far worse than he had ever considered. 

He met Sam and Dean by chance, having been on his own for several years at that point, and a victim of a witch gone rogue. He had heard rumors prior of Supernatural entities existing outside of the campfire stories children told at summer camp, but he never expected them to be real. His morbid curiosity kicked in after he was saved, and years later, he lived with the brothers in the bunker. His life was better, they accepted him for the man he truly was and he felt like he could be himself around them. When Castiel was introduced, he received the same heartwarming welcome that he had gotten from the brothers. He finally had a family that loved him and cared for him, and it was all he could have ever asked for. Life was going well. 

Then his box broke open. 

And his curiosity got the best of him again. 

Perhaps it would be different that time. The last time he did something on instinct rather than intuition, it got him into a wonderful, supportive family. Perhaps his parents had realized how serious he was when he came out to them. A decade is a long time to go without talking to your child. People can change. He had to believe that. Another part of him laughed. Of course, they didn’t change, why the hell would they suddenly decide to be supportive of you now? He wasn’t too sure about the answer. All he could do was have a small, sliver of hope that there was a chance that reconciliation awaited him. 

He needs to learn to lower his expectations. 

.~.

The Impala drove at a steady twenty miles per hour down the road, past the line of newly developed housing created about twelve years prior, and into the neighborhood filled with a mixture of tall and short houses dating back to the early 1910s. Back when (Y/N) was a child, it was the only part of the neighborhood that he knew, and from what he could tell nothing had changed much. Some new colored houses here and there, a fence or maybe two, but other than that, most of the houses along the winding road had stayed the same. Dead ends were still dead ends and the hills were still, undoubtedly, too high to climb over when the winter weather hit. He was thankful they took the trip during the summer. 

His childhood home was located down one of the sideroads in the deepest parts of the neighborhood. As they drove past houses, he could remember the names of children that used to live there, the times when they used to play together in the street or the creek that was a mile away. Those were good times, and a part of him wished he could relive them. He wondered what each of those children was up to. Either extremely well off or locked away for drug abuse. That was how most small-town children grew up. He was part of the small percentage that glided steadily in the middle of the chaos. He wasn’t a bum drug addict, but he wasn’t rich either. 

The house was almost unrecognizable. What used to be an ungodly piss yellow was now a basic blue color, edging on navy, with white trim. It gave the building a farmhouse-style aesthetic. The porch that wrapped around the front of the house had been painted recently, evident by how bright the white color was, and new foliage lined the driveway and walkway up to the front door, a mixture of bushes and flowers. They looked well taken care of. He gave his parents kudos for taking such good care of the exterior. He could faintly recall his mother mentioning something about retirement during their conversation, but he wasn’t certain. 

Dean pulled the car into the driveway, behind a new Ford F150 painted red. He killed the engine and the four of them sat still for a moment, the silence weighing heavy on all of them. Not much was said during the entire car ride there. Even AC/DC played low and was respectful of the preferred quiet. 

“This the place?” Dean broke the silence, turning his head to look at (Y/N). 

“Yeah…” (Y/N)’s voice was monotone, almost robotic. 

“You know, we don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” 

(Y/N) finally tore his gaze away from the house to look at Dean. He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he answered, though he wasn’t sure how convincing he made it sound. 

“Alright, if you say so. Wanna lead the way?” 

“Yeah.”

(Y/N) took a moment before he exited the car. As he stepped out, he felt as if his body weighed a ton, as if rocks were tied to his ankles and wrists. Sam, Dean, and Castiel followed his lead. He wasn’t too sure how long it took to get up to the front door. It felt like he was walking through his past, year after year and memory after memory, from the time he brought all of the luggage in after his parents inherited the house from his maternal grandparents to the moment he was thrown out forcefully by his father with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small will to live. When he regained consciousness, he eyed the door cautiously. They had painted the door, too. It was now white, much like the porch and trim. 

Before he got a chance to knock, the door was yanked open, causing him to jump violently, eyes wide. 

Standing in the doorway was a short, stout woman, and it took (Y/N) a while to realize that it was his mother. The years hadn’t been nice to her. Her teeth were off-white, and her thinner lips cracked in a large smile that fit on most of her face. The wrinkles around her eyes, lips, and across her forehead were more prominent than ever, and it seemed as if she had neglected to dye her hair recently, slivers of grays poking through her roots. She wore a long-sleeved shirt, despite the heat, and a skirt that reached down to the middle of her calves. 

“(D/N)!” She exclaimed in a childlike voice, arms outstretched wide as she approached him. 

An uneasy smile made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips. “Hey, Mom,” he mumbled, returning the hug hesitantly. 

“Oh! Your voice sounds so deep, dear,” she giggled and pulled back, a hand placed gingerly against her chest. “I hope you’re not getting sick.” 

“Nope…not getting sick.” 

His mother narrowed her eyes as she reached up, fingers running gently through his hair. She hummed. “You know, I liked you better with longer hair. You just look like a boy now,” her nose scrunched. 

“Yeah…” 

His mother glanced between (Y/N) and the men standing behind him. She bit her lip in anticipation. “Well?” 

“Well?” (Y/N) furrowed his brows. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” 

The question registered in his mind slower than he would have liked. He had honestly forgotten that Sam, Dean, and Castiel stood behind him. He turned his head sharply to look at them. 

“Right! Um, Mom, this is Sam, Dean, and Castiel,” he introduced them, gesturing towards each of them when he mentioned their name. 

His mother held out a hand to them individually, giving them a firm shake. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you all. As you know, I’m (D/N)’s mother, but you can just call me Clara. If you call me Mrs. (L/N), I’ll start looking around for my mother-in-law, and she’s been dead for years!” She howled in a high-pitched laughter. 

(Y/N) frowned. “Grandma’s dead?” He asked in a quiet voice. 

Clara’s laughter died quickly as she placed her hand on her cheek. The corner of her lips curled downward. She opened her mouth to speak but found it difficult to find the words she had been looking for. Finally, she reached an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulled him close to her, and gestured with her head inside. 

“Let’s go see your father, sweetheart! He’ll be so happy to see you!” She smiled again as she pulled him past the threshold of the front door and into the house. 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel glanced at one another, their brows raised. (Y/N) had told them little to nothing about his family or the life he lived before they met. They weren’t even aware that his parents were still alive. In the world of hunting, living parents were a rare occasion. However, with the first interaction with his mother, they realized that his parents seemed to be dead to him, even if they weren’t buried six feet under. 

“Now I see why he hasn’t talked to us about his family,” Sam mumbled just loud enough for the two other men to hear before he stepped foot into the house. 

Castiel’s brows were knitted together in his signature confused expression. “I don’t understand,” he spoke in a voice that was as low as Sam’s had been. “Why did (Y/N)’s mother call him by his deadname?” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He reached over, clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulders, and answered simply, “Because his parents are dicks, Cas,” before he followed his brother into the house. Castiel followed soon after, mulling over the answer. 

The interior was just as updated as the outside. It seemed (Y/N)’s parents put their retirement to good use. The old, rustic floors were replaced with newly refurbished wooden flooring with a dark stain, all of the furniture seemed to be less than five years old, each of the rooms had been given a fresh coat of paint to replace the wallpaper and wooden panels which were popular in the 1950s, and the ceilings no longer had bundles of popcorn strewn about. The wretched smell of mothballs had even dissipated and was replaced by a Scentsy that smelled of wildflowers. 

Clara led (Y/N) into the living room. The basic shape of the living room had been the same since he last saw it, except the large leather couch they once had was replaced with a beige sectional and the 20” box TV had been replaced by a massive 75” flatscreen. His father sat in the living room in his recliner, the same recliner he had when (Y/N) was a kid. His feet were elevated and a can of Bush Lite rested in his hand. 

His father didn’t age well, either. What had once been a full head of hair was now replaced by thin, silver strands that ran from either side of his skull in a comb-over. Age spots began to materialize across his face and hands. His skin seemed leathery and shriveled, his nails brittle. His fingertips were stained yellow, indicating he had started smoking, the same bad habit his mother couldn’t seem to break. They were perfect for one another. His back was slouched as he watched TV, a hump beginning to form near the base of his neck. For a man in his late fifties, his father seemed like he was hitting his early seventies. 

“Greg! Turn the damn TV off and come see your daughter.” Clara scolded. 

Daughter. The anxiety began to bubble inside of (Y/N)’s gut, but he kept it at bay.

Greg turned his head away from the screen and smiled. “Well, I’ll be damned, I didn’t hear you pull up.” He clapped his hands onto his knees and hoisted himself out of the chair. 

“Of course, you didn’t hear her pull up with that TV being so loud. I told you you need to turn it down.” 

“I can hear just fine, woman. You don’t need to tell me anything.” 

Greg shuffled over to the two of them and was quick to wrap his arms around (Y/N), pulling him close. (Y/N) returned the hug just as hesitantly as he had done to his mother. Greg reeked of cigarettes, and it was obvious that he smoked about a pack a day. At least his mother was good at hiding her addiction from outsiders. His father, not so much. (Y/N) tried to keep a straight face when he pulled away, despite the putrid smell. 

“I missed you so much, baby girl,” he mumbled as he patted (Y/N)’s shoulder. 

“Missed you, too, Dad,” though his tone said otherwise. 

“And these are (D/N)’s friends,” Clara turned towards the men behind them. 

Greg’s gaze turned towards them and straightened up almost immediately as if to make himself appear taller, more dominant. He stepped past (Y/N) and Clara so that he stood in front of the group. He held out his hand to each of them, exchanging names and handshakes. As they talked, (Y/N)’s eyes were cast down towards the floor. 

Shame was a mild word compared to how to truly felt. He had never told the boys his deadname. Never had he even considered doing so, but by dragging them to his childhood home, he had opened up a gateway of forbidden knowledge. The knowledge that he had hoped to keep in the back of his mind. Once his ghost opened up the box, she let everything out with it. He realized how much of a fool he was to pick up the phone. That the little hope that had bubbled inside of him was blind, that there was nothing to back up any idea that his parents had changed. They hadn’t changed. They had merely brushed his transgenderism under the rug as if that fateful night ten years ago didn’t occur. 

Clara’s voice pulled (Y/N) from his thoughts as her hands came up to rest on his shoulders. He jerked and looked over at her with a startled expression. Clara smiled. 

“Why don’t you and I go into the kitchen and finish up supper while the guys talk?” She asked in that sickeningly sweet voice. 

“Um,” (Y/N)’s mouth had gone dry. “Sure.” 

“Great,” her smile tightened. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” She turned to the four other men in the room. “Would you boys like anything to drink?” 

They declined her offer with polite, forced smiles. Clara then led (Y/N) past the archway, into the hallway, and toward the kitchen. Greg placed his hands on his hips and gestured towards the sofa. 

“Why don’t you boys have a seat? Make yourselves at home. I’ll be back in a moment. Gotta take a piss. The ol’ bladder ain’t what it used to be ya’ know.” He let out a deep chuckle and headed for the hallway. 

They watched as Greg left. When he was out of sight, the three of them walked around the sectional and sat down. The door down the hallway clicked shut, and the faint sound of a radio and fan could be heard. Dean licked his lips and leaned forward. 

“Alright, we have to say something,” he said. 

“Dean,” Sam began. 

“No, Sam. We now know why (Y/N) never told us about his parents. I mean, you saw the way that he was. Something had to have happened. He looked scared. That wasn’t our (Y/N).” 

Sam sighed. “I know what you mean, but…it’s not our place to say anything to them.” Sam shrugged. 

“I believe I agree with Dean,” Castiel folded his hands in his lap. “(Y/N)’s demeanor is not what I am used to. He’s secluded. I was unable to hear what he was thinking because of how…chaotic his thoughts were at the moment. I’ve never seen him like that before.” 

“Well then, what do you suggest we do?” Sam asked. 

They sat in silence for a moment, Sam looking over in Dean’s direction, Castiel doing the same, while Dean’s eyes were focused on the floor. His lips were pursed in thought. Both Sam and Castiel knew what Dean wanted to do. He wanted to yell at them, give them a true Dean Winchester what for. Tell them that they were some of the worst parents on the face of the Earth with some colorful language mixed in. However, Dean knew that there was a time and a place for behavior like that. Run-down bars were a perfect example, not someone else’s house. He knew that they couldn’t go into that fight guns blazing. They had to be careful about it. Malicious. 

Moments of silence passed before Dean leaned back against the sectional. He crossed one of his legs lazily over the other and ran his fingers through his hair. He listened carefully to the faint sound of radio chatter and fan blades from the other room. 

“I say we just…use his correct name and pronouns whenever we talk about him,” Dean shrugged his shoulders. 

“That’s it?” 

“Yeah…that’s it.” 

Sam poked his tongue into his cheek and nodded. “And you won’t blow up.” 

Dean shook his head. “Can’t promise, but I will try to be on my best behavior,” he held up a hand. “Scout’s Honor.” 

Sam sighed. “Alright. Yeah…” he nodded. “But if (Y/N) tells us to stop…”

“Then we stop,” Dean finished. “But I’m not calling him by his deadname.” 

“It truly doesn’t suit him,” Castiel said, head tilted and eyes cast off in the distance. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam agreed. 

“It’s settled then?” Dean asked. 

“Settled,” Sam and Castiel nodded. 

.~.

Dinner was served around 5:30. It was a simple meat and potato meal, some cheap excuse of a salad served in an antique salad bowl, greens, and dessert for the road. Everyone had gathered in the dining room, just off the living room. They also seemed to have renovated that room since (Y/N) left. Previously, they had a cheap wooden table with a couple of mismatched chairs scattered around it. Now, the dining table looked lavish, mahogany with a dark stain and extravagant carvings on the legs. The chairs were wooden, the same color as the table, with white pads on the backs and seats. The wallpaper had been torn off and replaced with a bright beige with dark trim. A chandelier hung above the table that appeared to cost more than most of the renovation. Tasteless picture frames hung on every corner of the walls, some containing old family photos while others had strange abstract paintings inside. 

Greg sat at the head of the table while his wife sat at the other end. (Y/N) sat next to his mother, Dean right across from him. Sam sat next to Dean and Castiel sat next to (Y/N). Each of them had a hearty serving of food on their decorative dinner plates. Greg dug into the food almost immediately as it was served, Clara was delicate with her eating, and everyone else was respectful and slow with their bites. Even Castiel ate some of the food, despite his celestial lack of taste. (Y/N) picked at his food, mostly, but ate a few bites now and then to appease his parents. 

“So, (D/N),” Greg started with a mouthful of food, a bit of gravy dribbling out of the corner of his mouth that he didn’t bother to wipe. “What kind of work did you say y’all did?” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Gregory,” Clara scolded in a low voice, earning an eye-roll from her husband. “You said something about working in an office?” She looked towards (Y/N).

(Y/N) froze midbite. “Um…” he trailed. He had forgotten what it was he told his mother when they talked. 

“Something about hunters or something?” 

“Head hunters!” (Y/N) was quick to respond. “Right, right, um, yeah, sorry. Um…Dean and I are head hunters at Cerner. Sam works in the tech department and Castiel works in sales.” 

“Oh! That’s nice that you all get to work together! Now, Cerner, I heard about that place, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it is,” Clara’s face scrunched up. 

“We sell medical equipment and hardware, but we’re able to work from home since we live a couple of hours away from the main building.” 

“Ooo, medical equipment,” Clara cooed. “You must make a good amount of money.” 

“Yeah…some.” He mumbled and took another bite. 

Greg finally picked up the cloth napkin beside him and wiped the corner of his lips. “So where do y’all live, then? Since you get to lazily work from home…” 

“We live together near Lincoln, and the closest office is in Kansas City. It would just be easier to work from home instead of driving all that way.” (Y/N) said. 

“Wait a second…” Greg looked up at him. “Together?” He asked. 

“Yeah…we live in a house together.” 

Greg chewed slower. “I don’t know how I feel about my daughter living with three men.” 

Dean snorted. Eyes shifted over towards him. He looked up and glanced towards the head of the table. “He’s not so bad to live with,” he shrugged his shoulders. 

“He who?” Greg furrowed his brows. 

“(Y/N).” 

“Who?” 

“Your son,” Dean gestured towards (Y/N) with his fork. 

(Y/N) stopped. His heart raced rapidly in his chest as his parents’ eyes shifted towards him. In an instant, he was transported back to a decade ago. The same look that was on his parents' faces back then was on them now. His mother had a look of worry, while he could see that the veins on his father’s neck were enlarged. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed and small behind his bushy brows. The fear that overtook (Y/N) on the night he got kicked out began to flood back into his gut. He could feel the hurricane build. 

It died off when his father let out a deep chuckle, however, and the fear was replaced by confusion. 

“I see (D/N) has you guys roped into that transsexual bullshit or whatever.” Greg waved Dean off. “Sweetheart, aren’t you a little too old to be playing make-believe?” Greg’s voice was deep, demeaning. 

(Y/N) frowned. “It’s not make-believe, Dad. I’m a man.” (Y/N) spoke softly, as if he was even uncertain of himself. 

Greg laughed heartily. “You know, when your mother told me she talked you into coming home, I figured, after all these years, you would have gotten some sense into that thick head of yours. But, it seems like I was wrong. Maybe we didn’t beat you enough when you were a kid.” 

“Gregory,” Clara said between clenched teeth.

“I think you beat me plenty the night I left,” (Y/N) mumbled and took another bite, though he had already lost his appetite. 

“Don’t get lip with me, girl,” Greg growled. 

“He’s not a girl, Gregory,” Castiel chimed in, his voice calm and quiet. “His name is (Y/N) and he is a man. I believe you should respect that.” 

For the first time since he got there, (Y/N) looked over at Castiel, then to Dean, then Sam. The men that he had lived with for years were right next to him. His support system was in the same room as the people who had broken him down. He was no longer alone, no longer a scared little kid who was backed into a corner. With that thought in the back of his head, he felt the fear slowly dwindle. It was replaced with irritation. Parents were supposed to love and support their children through everything they experienced. Yet, all his parents did was cast him out once he got the confidence to come to them. The people, whom he was supposed to trust with his life, had turned to the people that he despised the most.

“Respect my ass. What happened to the respect for her parents!?” Greg dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. “Do you have any idea what we had to go through to raise your ungrateful ass? Your mother had to drop out of college, I had to take on two jobs, and this is how you thank us? Do you have any idea the things that people have been saying about us since you left? How we’re failures for parents for letting you turn out the way you did? I couldn’t even show my face in Fred’s for the longest time after that.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Dad, that you couldn’t go to your watering hole and get drunk like you did every night. How dare they assume the worst of you,” (Y/N)’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“(Y/N), I think we should go,” Sam said in a small voice. 

Greg narrowed his eyes at Sam and then at (Y/N). He pointed a meaty finger at him. “You watch what you say to me. You’re in my house. Adult or not, I will smack some sense into you.” 

“Hey, that’s not-” Sam began. 

“Gregory!” Clara spoke louder. “That’s our daughter, you can’t talk to her like that.” 

“I am not your daughter!” (Y/N) spoke loudly, his fist slammed down on the table, causing the plates and cutlery to cling together. Sam caught his glass before it could spill. 

Clara raised her brows as she looked over at (Y/N). She frowned and reached over, placing her hand on his shoulder. “(D/N)...”

(Y/N) slapped her hand away from him. “(D/N) is dead!” He shouted and stood quickly. His chair was tossed back and fell onto the floor. 

The room fell silent aside from a gasp that came from Clara. Her hand shot up to her mouth, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. All eyes were on (Y/N). He glared daggers at his mother and father. 

“She died long before you kicked me out. I thought, after all of these years, that you, my parents, would have changed. That you would see that it was not just some rebellious fucking phase you made it out to be. But I guess I was wrong. You two never changed. You two never got better. You’re still the same worthless, spineless fucks that kicked your child out all those years ago. You’re not parents. You’re garbage. White trash garbage.” 

“Hey!” Greg’s voice boomed as he stood from his spot at the table. “Don’t you ever speak to us like that,” he advanced towards (Y/N) but was stopped with a hand on his chest when Castiel stood between them. “Get the Hell out of my way. I bet you’re one of them faggot trannys, too.” 

As Greg placed his hands firmly on Castiel’s chest to undoubtedly shove him away, Castiel grabbed his wrist, flipped him over, and pinned him against the wall. Clara let out a shout, her eyes wide. 

“Cas!” Dean bellowed as he and Sam rushed over, their hands on Castiel’s arms as they tried to pull him off, but Castiel held on with all his strength. 

(Y/N) could see the anger in Castiel’s eyes. The blue that was once there was seemingly replaced by a deep, dark red. His jaw was clenched tightly, lips screwed together in a scowl. Clara rushed from her spot at the table and towards the archway leading into the hallway. 

“I’m calling the police!” She shouted, her voice echoing in the hallway. 

“Cas, let him go,” Sam said, a tone of urgency in his words.  

(Y/N) took a couple of steps towards them. He got closer to his father so that their faces were almost touching. Greg growled and tried to pull himself from Castiel’s grip, but it was futile. 

“How does it feel Gregory? How does it feel being outnumbered? To be weak? That’s all you are. You’re nothing but a weak, washed-up, lonely sack of shit. You need to start facing reality. You don’t have a daughter anymore. Never had one to begin with. At this point, you don’t even have a son. So I want you and Clara to lose my number. Pretend that I don’t even exist, and if you even bother to contact me again, best know that I’m going to make your lives a living Hell.” (Y/N)’s voice was low, deep, and dark. 

Greg said nothing. Instead, he let out staggered breaths, spittle dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. (Y/N) backed away. 

“Let him go, Cas,” (Y/N) said. 

Castiel glanced over at him for a brief moment before he let go. Greg went limp against the wall, holding his arm tightly to his chest. Sam patted Castiel’s shoulder and began to move him away from the scene. Dean grabbed (Y/N)’s arm. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Dean mumbled. 

(Y/N) gave a short nod, his eyes never leaving his father until the four of them quickly walked out of the room and towards the front door. Greg shouted incoherently down the hallway, but (Y/N) couldn’t he half-assed to care what it was he had to say. 

The sun was setting by then. The sky was painted a beautiful peach color that shifted toward the horizon to reddish-orange. They were quick to rush down the stairs and towards the Impala. Dean got in the driver’s seat, Sam in the passenger’s, and Castiel and (Y/N) got in the back. 

“Let’s get the Hell out of here. Clara was serious about calling the cops, and the porkers around here are crooked motherfuckers.” (Y/N) mumbled. 

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Dean said. 

He started the car and the engine roared to life. Dean ripped out of the driveway, tires squealing as they rushed down the neighborhood road. 

.~.

Twenty minutes out of town and the car ride was silent. No one would dare speak. The tension in the car was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. On occasion, Dean would look in the rearview mirror at (Y/N). Each time he did so, he could see that (Y/N)’s eyes were filled with a dead stare. His gaze cast towards the back of Sam’s head, eyes glazed over, as if he wasn’t even there. He was leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, hands clasped together. 

Truth be told, (Y/N)’s mind was far from the present. The words that Clara and Greg spoke replayed in his head over and over again. His own words mere whispers over how loud theirs were. He thought about all that he had said to them. He had been holding in his emotions for ten years, hating what his parents had become, hating that they had turned their backs on him as soon as he needed them the most. He developed a heavy resentment towards them, something that he knew couldn’t be fixed from a simple dinner visit. 

But another part of him, the child-like voice that spoke in the back of his head, wished that things had changed. Wished for the parents that he so desperately wanted. Parents were supposed to watch out for their children, to protect them, and his parents had neglected to do so. They abandoned him. What worthless fucks they were. Still, it was hard for him not to want the good parents he had hoped they would be. To hope for parents who supported and loved him. He wanted his mother to just wrap her arms around him and call him her son. He wanted his father to clap him on the shoulder and tell him how proud he was. How brave he was to come out. None of that happened. He would never get the validation from his parents that he longed for. 

And he hated it. 

He knew that Dean, Sam, and Castiel loved him. Loved him more than his parents ever would, but he couldn’t help the desperate want that clawed deep within his mind. In a way, he felt ashamed for even wanting it. He had everything in his life that he ever needed - a support system, people who loved him, a place he could call home - yet he still wanted more. He felt greedy. Selfish. 

“Pull over,” (Y/N)’s voice was small and cracked. 

“What?” Dean asked. 

“I said ‘pull over’.” He spoke louder. 

Dean frowned and looked in the rearview mirror for a moment. Reluctantly, he pulled the Impala to the side of the backroads and placed the car in park. (Y/N) opened the door and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Dean and Sam looked at one another before they, too, got out of the car. Castiel soon followed. 

“(Y/N)!” Sam called. 

(Y/N)’s fists were clenched at his sides as he stormed down the road in long, smooth strides, away from the Impala, back towards the direction of town. 

“(Y/N), stop!” Dean hollered. 

(Y/N) didn’t listen. He kept walking. He only stopped when Castiel popped in front of him, hands placed on his shoulders. (Y/N) quickly brushed him off. 

“Get off me,” he growled, his voice not angry, but rather broken. 

He took a couple of steps away from Castiel, giving Dean and Sam enough time to catch up to them. (Y/N) stood between the three of them. He brought his hands up and wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself tightly. He shook his head and looked up at the night sky. 

It was a Waxing Crescent that night - God’s Thumbnail as his mother would have called it - and stars were placed meticulously in various parts of the sky. The good thing about the backroads was that there were no city lights to hide the true beauty of the sky by night. Every last constellation was visible. That was one thing that (Y/N) loved about living in the bunker. When he got tired, when he needed a break, he would walk outside, look up at the night sky, and just watch. Watch as the stars floated from one end to the other, watch as the moon shifted to welcome a new dawn. It was a mesmerizing sight. But, that night, it wasn’t comforting to him. Not like it should have been. 

“This is all my fault,” (Y/N) breathed out. He closed his eyes as his head dropped down. 

“(Y/N),” Sam reached forward, but (Y/N) pulled away before he could even touch him. 

“I was so stupid. So stupid to think that they changed. I just…I don’t know, I just had this little bit of hope inside of me that, after all these years, they would have seen me as their son. That they would have seen me for the man that I am. But I was wrong. I was so fucking stupid to believe that they would have changed. After everything that they did to me, after everything that they said to me, all I wanted was for them to tell me that everything would be okay, that they were going to stand by me through everything. That’s what parents are supposed to do, right? They’re supposed to protect their kids. They’re supposed to be by their sides through everything that they go through and they weren’t. They never were! They just sat there and berated me and threw me out because ‘how would the rest of the town look at us knowing that our daughter is nothing but a tranny piece of liberal trash’?” 

(Y/N)’s voice shook, and his eyes glimmered in the pale moonlight from tears that had appeared. 

“Well, you know what? I don’t need them! I don’t need those two washed-up, lowlife son of a bitches to look out for me. No, I got you three. I have three important men in my life who care for me, love me, and support me no matter what, even when I make a dumb decision on a hunt or when I make a fool out of myself trying to flirt with someone at a bar. I know that I can come back home to people who will be there for me no matter what. So you know what, Clara and Greg can go fuck themselves. They’re not my parents. They never were! I don’t need them!” 

His voice shifted to anger, but the shaking was still present. His tense shoulders relaxed and slouched. He reached a hand up to his face to wipe the tears away. His bottom lip began to tremble and, with his head cast down, he turned back towards the three of them. 

“How come they don’t love me?” 

Dean rushed over without a word and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), pulling him close to his chest. Sam was quick to move over to his side as well, his long arms overlapping his brother’s to embrace him. Castiel followed suit, hugging him more hesitantly than the others, but his grip was just as strong. (Y/N) collapsed in their arms, sobs falling from his lips as tears fell carelessly down his cheeks. 

“Hey,” Dean’s voice broke through the sounds of (Y/N)’s sobs. He pulled away from him, as did Sam and Castiel. Sam and Castiel kept a hand firmly on (Y/N)’s back, while Dean’s hands moved to his shoulders. “Don’t cry over them. They’re not worth it.” Dean reached up and slowly brushed a tear away from (Y/N)’s cheek. “We’re your family now, and we would never treat you like that. You deserve so much better.” 

“Dean’s right,” Sam chimed in. “You’ve gone through so much. It takes a lot of courage for someone to come out like you did, and for them to just throw you out like that…” Sam shook his head in disapproval. “We love you, (Y/N), more than anything.” 

(Y/N) sniffled and wiped the rest of the tears away. His cheeks were stained with the wet remnants of their trails and his eyes were puffy and red. 

“I’m not too good with…words or comfort.” Castiel began, hesitantly. “But I believe that it was a courageous thing to come back to your hometown and speak to your parents, even if it didn’t turn out the way you had hoped for. It takes a lot for someone to face the people who have wronged them in the past, and I must commend you on your bravery. Even though you don’t have the support of your parents with you, as Sam and Dean have said, you still have us. We love you dearly, (Y/N). You are who you are meant to be, and no one can ever change that.” 

(Y/N) lips slowly curled into a small, weak smile. “Thank you, all of you. For everything that you have done for me.” 

“No, thank you,” Dean nodded. “Dinner and a show? At least the show wasn’t as dry as Clara’s pot roast.” 

“Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes.

(Y/N) let out a light laugh. “She was never good at making pot roast anyway.” 

“I’m a better cook than her, right?”

“By a mile.” 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Dean reached over and wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulling him close. “What do you say we head back home, order in, and watch one of those terrible movies you like.” 

“One of those shitty romcoms?” 

“If that’s what you wanna watch.” 

“And I can pick where we order in from?” 

“As long as it’s somewhere where I can get a salad,” Sam mumbled. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sammy.” (Y/N)’s smile widened.

Dean smirked and gestured towards the Impala. “Come on, let’s head home.” 

The four of them made their way back over to the car, each of them getting in their respective seats. The radio blasted Metallica, the tension having been lifted from the air. The Impala’s engine roared as it sped down the backroads, leaving behind a past of nothing but misery and heartbreak, and heading towards a future of love, acceptance, and compassion. 

.~.

The past is a crazy concept, isn’t it? When you think about it, some people share more good memories than bad ones. They cling to their past self and wish for a time when they could go back and relive the glory days. Others tend to forget their past and look towards the future, hoping for a new light that would bring nothing but happiness and joy. 

If you had told (Y/N) a week ago that he would be one of those people, he would have rolled his eyes and laughed in your face. The past had clung to him like the plague, dragging along with him everywhere he went. It crippled him, not only bringing his self-image down, but his self-worth as well. The words that Clara and Greg spoke to him that night were forever engrained in his mind. And while they lingered in the back of his head now and then, a louder, stronger, boisterous voice told him otherwise. Told him he was cared for. Told him he was worth it. Told him they loved him. Told him he was exactly the person that he was destined to be. It was the voices of the men that he loved dearly. 

No longer were his parents the source of his nightmares. Rather, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were the source of his hopes and dreams. They were the heroes in his story that fought back the monsters that threatened to take him out, the knights in shining armor that saved him from the highest room of the tallest tower. The ones that rescued him from the brink of despair. The ones that saved him from a lifetime of hate. They were his protectors.

They were his family. 

“A wise man once told me family don’t end in blood, but it doesn’t start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family’s there through the good, bad, all of it. They got your back even when it hurts. That’s family.”

#supernatural #Supernatural #SPN #spn #supernatural x reader #Supernatural x Reader #SPN x Reader #spn x reader #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Reader #FTM!Reader #Trans!Reader #dean winchester #castiel #Sam Winchester #sam winchester #Team Free Will #team free will x reader #team free will #Team Free Will x Reader #Team Free Will x FTM!Reader #team free will x ftm!reader #transgender #transgenderism #supernatural scribe #supernatural imagine

[matxhstixkers]

tehehe it’s all coming along :)

#charlie rambles on #my art #destiel #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #trans dean winchester #castiel #castiel novak #dean x castiel

[trans-reader-fics]

Safety — fatherly!Castiel x trans!reader (he/him)

TW/CW: Transphobia, dysphoria, canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of s/icide, references to sh.

Summary: (y/n) ran away from his transphobic home and unknowingly stumbled into a djinn’s lair. Thankfully, the Winchesters and their angel were there to help him. 

--------------------------------------

(y/n) shoved his clothes into a worn out duffel bag. He couldn’t stay for any longer; this house was suffocating him, draining him of his will to live, and it became an undeniable fact that he was not welcome anymore. The people who raised him surrendered their title of parents by issuing him an ultimatum. He could either shove himself back into the closet, resigning himself to a suicidal fate, or get the fuck out of their life. So get the fuck out he would. 

He rummaged through every pocket he owned, scraping together as much spare change as possible. He had enough to buy a bus ticket out of town, far away from anyone who knew him. The prospect of nobody caring enough to look for him lingered in the back of his head, only strengthening his resolve to leave. He would not be missed. He would not be hurting anyone.

It would be cheaper to just off yourself. Really, it’s a huge waste to put all this effort in when there’s an easier way out. He entertained these thoughts for longer than he should have, dwelling on them as he walked out the door and began his new life. It was a long walk into the city.

By dusk, (y/n) was exhausted. He had been walking for hours, and in the distance, he saw a warehouse. In better circumstances, he would never consider it. But as it grew nearer, he realized just how heavy his body was, and how dearly he just wanted to collapse into bed.

The warehouse door was already open and (y/n) walked right in. He tiptoed deeper into the building, stepping over empty bottles and cigarette butts. Finding an isolated corner, he curled up against the wall and searched his bag for a blanket. “Damn it,” he grumbled, settling for covering his body in an oversized hoodie. Whispering voices kept him awake for a little while, but he drifted off to sleep, blaming the hisses on his exhaustion. It had been a long day, and he always did have an overactive imagination.

“(y/n)!” His mother called for him. “Wake up, you’ll be late for school!” He stretched and blinked the sleep out of his eyes, before promptly falling back into bed. He hears stomping up the stairs, but he’s not afraid. She pulled the blankets off of him, lovingly ruffling his hair. “Hey! Another late night?” she laughed, her voice tinkling like bells. “C’mon, breakfast is on the table. I’ll drive you, so you don’t have to catch the bus.” She pulled the curtains open, revealing the beginnings of a sunrise. He groaned, rolling out of bed and onto his feet. 

“I’m awake, I’m awake. Had a long night,” he yawned. “Looking for scholarships.” He began pulling on his clothes as soon as he stepped into the bathroom, tugging on a binder and black jeans. “Hey mom?” He popped his head out of the bathroom door, catching his mother right before she descended the flight of stairs. She smiled gently, turning to face him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, hon. Now hurry up! Your food is getting cold.” He laughs before closing the bathroom door and putting the rest of his clothes on. He was so much more confident now that he was out of the closet. Everyone in his life was supportive, and a warmth radiated in his chest. He ran downstairs to eat his breakfast. He approached the kitchen, seeing his father sitting in the same place he always did. 

“Good morning son,” he smiled over his laptop, the clicking of the keys never ceasing. “You might be a little bit late for the bus.” He checks the little white clock hanging over the stove. 

“I’m driving him, honey.” His mother comes over and kisses her husband on the cheek. “Speaking of which,” she looks up at her son. “We gotta head out soon, okay?” She smiled, but it wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. “(y/n), o-” 

“-kay? Are you okay?” a deep voice asked. “Hey, can you hear me?” (y/n) groaned as someone placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Head hurts.” He grimaced as he tried to open his eyes. “Who are you? I was having such a nice dream.” 

“We,” the man paused, “We’re the Winchesters. You were kidnapped, and monsters found you. But it’s okay, you’re safe now. The monsters are,” the man paused, “dead, they’re dead.” (y/n) finally managed to open his eyes, and he looked around the room. It was even darker than before, but the building looked the same.

“Kidnapped?” He mumbled, still woozy. “That can’t be right, I’m in the same place. I fell asleep. I need to catch the bus out of here.” He felt for his jacket pocket, discovering that he no longer had a coat on, just a loose t-shirt. “Oh fuck. Where’s my coat?” He began to shift, but the man holding him kept him in place. “Hey, let go of me.” He tried to push him off, unsuccessfully. “Let go of me, where’s my fucking coat?” It had been a long time since he had worn only a short sleeved hoodie, although there were seemingly bigger issues at hand.

A tall man with long hair held up a jacket, his jacket, and fished through the pockets. He pulled out a knife, which he placed on a nearby table, and then found the bus schedule. “Uh, Dean?” The tall one looked at his...brother? and pointed at his ticket. “This bus left over 24 hours ago.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened and he bolted up, catching even Dean by surprise. “My bus left? I slept for over a day? What the hell is going on right now?” 

The tall one bolted over to the distressed teen. “Woah. Let’s start closer to the beginning. My name is Sam, Sam Winchester. That one is Dean, he’s my brother. What’s your name?”

(y/n) took a few deep breaths before answering. “My name’s (y/n). I wasn’t kidnapped.”

Dean looked at him, head tilted in confusion. “Where did that come from?” 

“You said I was kidnapped,” he grumbled. “Earlier, when I was lying over there. I wasn’t. I fell asleep in this warehouse. Not,” he paused, his voice trailing off as he thought. “Not over here, but it’s definitely the same place.”

Dean looked at his brother, then back at (y/n). “Okay, well then, where do you live? We’ll take you home, back to your family.”

(y/n) scoffed, his legs shaking as he walked over to his jacket. “Nope,” he slid the knife back into his pocket. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I need a ride into town.”

“(y/n),” Sam shot a pleading look in his direction. “It’s not safe, you’re a kid. Just let us take you home.”

“Look, I’ll spell it out for you. I was kicked out. I’m not welcome there anymore, and even if I was, I’m fucking done. I’m not going back.” He sighed, shrugging his coat on. “Sucks, but it’s what I’ve got.” 

Dean huffed in exhaustion. “Look, we’ll drive you home, explain to your folks that you almost died. If they still don’t want you, then we’ll drive you to the bus station and you’ll be on your merry way.” 

“Oh, please.” (y/n) rolled his eyes. “Skip the denial. Just drive me into town, and if you really feel that bad for me, I wouldn’t say no to a bagel.”

Dean stared at the kid and tapped at his phone, speed-dialing a number. “Cas,” he grumbles. “Sam and I need you. There’s a stubborn kid, and neither of us can talk any sense into her. Come do some angel shit or something.” Instantly, a man materialized in between them. 

“Woah,” (y/n) breathed out, “What the hell?” The angel grabbed his arm, and walked them into a different room. 

“You’re unhappy. Will you tell me why, or do I have to find it myself?” He stared straight at (y/n), his blue eyes barely blinking. 

“That’s blunt of you,” he laughed. “Look, I don’t feel like getting into it. Sure, do whatever.” The man reached over, pressing his hand against (y/n)’s forehead. 

Kicked out. Kicked out. Unloved. Die. Die. Die. Kill yourself. Die. Unwanted. He. He. He. HE. I want to go home. I don’t have a home. Please. Help me. Help me. Kill me. Fucking kill me.

He pulled his hand away. “You’re coming home with us. We have a,” the dark haired man paused. “We call it the bunker. You’ll be safe. I will make sure of that. They will understand.” He begins to walk away, still holding on to (y/n)’s arm.

“What’s your name?” He whispers. “And why are you helping me?”

“Castiel. My name is Castiel, and I am an angel.” He pulled the child back into the first room, where the brothers stood, waiting.

“Well?” Dean groaned, arms crossed. “Where does she live?” (y/n) flinched slightly, but Cas only stood up straighter.

“We’re taking him to the bunker.” With that, Cas led (y/n) out of the warehouse, and sat him in the backseat of the Impala, sliding in next to him. “I will not let anyone hurt you,” he whispered. “You’ll be safe with us. They will accept you. Now sleep.” 

(y/n) glanced at him, skepticism in his eyes. Cas saw this, and he slipped his trenchcoat off, draping it over the teenager’s body. 

“Thank you,” he whispered before dozing off, leaning into Cas’s side. 

He awoke to the slamming of car doors, and the faint noise of arguing. “We can’t keep the kid,” Dean shouted under his breath. “We aren’t parents, and if you haven’t noticed, we kind of have bigger things to deal with right now.”

“Dean.” The angel stated, opening the door to the backseat. “This is not a discussion. I can take care of him, and you were not the one to see inside his head.”

“So tell me,” he begged. “Make me understand.”

Tell him, (y/n) thought. It’s okay, Castiel. You can tell him. Almost as if he heard (y/n)’s thoughts, Cas replied.

“(y/n) is what humans call transgender. His parents were not pleased with this, and he is unable to return to where he used to live. I’m sure you understand that feeling.” He gently readjusted his jacket so that it covered more of (y/n)’s body, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Dean froze in his steps, his furrowed brows and clenched jaw betraying his rage. “We’re keeping him. Let’s get him inside.”

He sat up slowly, eyes still heavy with sleep. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll be on my way tomorrow. I won’t be a bother.” Dean turned to look at him, and his face began to fall. 

“No need for that, kid. You’re staying. Besides, Cas would kick my ass if I let you leave.” He chuckled, while Cas let out a heavy sigh; (y/n) saw a hint of a smile cross his face as he did so.

“Rest, (y/n). We will talk more in the morning. For now, just rest.” Cas reached out and brushed a spare tuft of hair behind (y/n)’s ear. 

He woke in someone’s bed, in a tidy, barely lived in room, under blankets that smelled like cinnamon. As soon as he sat up, there were three knocks at the door. Dean walked in immediately after, and (y/n) could tell it was his room.

“Fuck,” (y/n) sighed, burying his head in his hands. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I stole your bed, didn’t I. Sorry, I should’ve taken the couch, I-”

“Hey, hey, kid it’s okay.” Dean smiled and sat on the side of the bed, next to his legs. “I offered, and besides, there’s plenty of rooms with beds in here. The bunker is huge.”

(y/n) opened his mouth to protest, but from the doorway, Cas cut him off. “We want to help you. Do you plan to keep fighting it?”

“I, um,” He took a deep breath. “I don’t trust favors. What do you want in return?”

“For you to try not to kill us.” Dean paused. “Sorry Cas. Wrong answer?”

“Wrong answer,” Cas confirmed, “But yes. Please don’t try to kill us. We want to help you, and you are welcome to stay with us. Indefinitely.”

(y/n) smiled. Something in Cas’s deadpan delivery made him trust the angel, and he started to get out of bed. “Thank you. All of you. I think...” he took a deep breath. “I think I’ll stay a while.”

#tw transphobia #cw transphobia #tw suicidal thoughts #tw dysphoria #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural x reader #supernatural x trans reader #x reader #x reader fanfiction #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel fanfiction #what the fuck is this honestly #ive had this in my drafts for so long #hurt comfort

[platonicfanfiction]

Supernatural

Your Mistake [Winchester!Reader] (F)

Hustler [Winchester!Reader] (F)

Breakfast Time

Shirts Worn [Trans Male!Reader]

Lucifer's First Son (M)

Of Cats and Angels [Winchester!Reader]

Long Lost Sister Masterlist

#platonic fanfiction #winchester!reader #winchester!sister #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #destiel x reader #platonic x reader #male reader #trans male reader #non binary reader #x reader #supernatural x reader #spn fanfiction #spn x reader

[bitchybarbarianenthusiast]

12/06/23 - THE INTRO :)

Hi, my name's cherry/katt. Yes, katt is spelled that way.

This is a sub-blog i created in lieu of just having another platform to spew my girly little wisdom on.

At the time of this post i am 18 years old. And my dad is dead. One has no relevance to the other i just like pointing that out so people don't get disappointed when they find out that i'm actually kind of disturbing.

If we're being completely honest here, i'm just a weird girl who happens to be hot.

That being said, I'm in a lot of fandoms. This blog was created as a ted talk of sorts. Everything from what current characters i stan to any random piece of thinking i have while stoned. [This blog is 420 friendly, let's talk about it!]

I will try and post daily but there's no promises that i won't be able to keep.

Alright, that'll be all for this post!

Lukewarm regards,

xoxo - Cherry <3

#random dialogue prompts #dean winchester #castiel #sam and dean #dean is bi #sam winchester #supernatural #jack kline #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #team free will #spn crack #the empty #kevin tran #dean x you #dean x reader #bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #steve rogers #catws #iron man #irondeficiency #marvel #castiel winchester