writingoncloudydays

[writingoncloudydays]

Simple Life Together

a.n: Hey, so im not dead just had a lot of shit happen in the last months, so enjoy a short movie night With Dean and Cas

warnings: non, just super fluffy

0.94k Words

Dean sat on the worn leather couch in the bunker, feet propped up on the coffee table, eyes glued to the flickering screen as an old Western movie played. The grainy film transported him to dusty saloons, clashing revolvers, and lone sheriffs riding into sunsets. He loved these moments—the simplicity and ruggedness of the characters. A quiet contentment settled over him as he sipped his beer, lost in the film's nostalgia.

Beside him, Castiel sat, not nearly as entranced by the movie as he was by Dean himself. The angel had seen countless worlds and even universes, but nothing captivated him quite like watching Dean. His sharp features softened in the glow of the screen, and his green eyes were wide with boyish enthusiasm that Castiel rarely saw. In moments like these, Dean let his guard down, even just a little, and Castiel found it impossibly endearing.

Dean let out a chuckle at some dry quip from the movie, and Castiel’s gaze flickered from his lips to his eyes, admiring the ease in his expression. He found himself leaning slightly closer, drawn to the warmth that radiated from Dean, the subtle magnetism that always pulled him in.

"You know," Dean said, still not looking away from the screen, "These old Westerns… they don't make 'em like this anymore. Just a man, his horse, and the wild frontier. Simple life, y'know?"

Castiel tilted his head, his voice soft. "You like the idea of simplicity, don't you?"

Dean finally glanced over, catching the intense focus in Castiel's eyes. He chuckled again, though this one was quieter, more self-conscious. "Yeah, well… life's anything but simple, Cas."

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the movie forgotten. Castiel's gaze held something more profound, making Dean's chest tighten just a bit.

"You ever think," Dean asked, his voice lower, more serious now, "About what it'd be like? A life like that?"

Castiel's eyes never left his. "I think," he said slowly, "I'd want to experience it with you."

Dean’s breath hitched. It wasn’t the first time Cas had said something that hit him square in the heart, but the weight of it—the sincerity, the quiet devotion—made Dean’s usual bravado falter.

He swallowed hard, turning back to the TV, but his heart was still racing. The movie played on, but it might have been a distant hum. All Dean could think about now was the presence next to him—the way Castiel watched him like he was the most important thing in the room.

And maybe, just maybe, Dean was starting to feel the same way.

Dean’s mind spun with Castiel’s words, the quiet hum of the movie barely registering. He had always been good at deflecting, brushing things off with a joke or a smirk, but this time, the weight of Castiel’s gaze made it impossible to ignore.

He could feel the warmth radiating off Cas and hear the steady rhythm of his breathing so close. Dean turned his head slowly, eyes locking onto Castiel's once more. There was a vulnerability there that took him by surprise—an openness that Cas reserved only for him. Dean felt something shift inside him at that moment, something he had kept buried for too long.

“Cas…” he began, his voice soft, almost hesitant. He didn’t know how to say what he was feeling, didn’t know how to put into words the rush of emotions that flooded him all at once. But maybe he didn’t need to.

Castiel moved just a fraction closer, always attuned to Dean in ways he couldn’t explain. The space between them felt charged, like the world had narrowed to just the two. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, and without thinking, he leaned in, closing the gap.

It was a soft kiss, tentative at first as if testing the waters. Dean’s lips brushed against Castiel’s, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the weight of their past, the chaos of their lives, the uncertainty of the future. None of it mattered. All that existed was the warmth of Castiel’s mouth on his, the way his hand came up to gently cup the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him in just a little closer.

Dean sighed into the kiss, his shoulders relaxing as something inside him finally clicked into place. He deepened the kiss, letting himself sink into it fully, savouring how Cas responded, soft and sure. It was sweet, tender, and filled with all the unspoken words they had never quite been able to say.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, the faint glow of the TV casting soft shadows around them. Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and he found Castiel looking at him with a mixture of awe and affection that made his chest tighten again.

“Guess I’ve been a little slow on the uptake,” Dean murmured with a slight, self-deprecating grin.

Castiel’s lips curved into the slightest smile, his thumb brushing gently against Dean’s neck. “I’ve waited for you, Dean. I’ll always wait.”

Dean closed his eyes again, a quiet laugh escaping him, but it was full of warmth, full of something he wasn’t afraid to feel anymore. He leaned in, pressing one last soft kiss to Castiel’s lips before resting his head against the couch, pulling Cas closer to his side.

The movie continued to play in the background, but now, Dean was no longer lost in the film. He was lost in the moment, in the quiet contentment of just being here—with Castiel, finally letting himself feel everything he’d been too scared to admit for so long.

For the first time in a long time, life felt a little simpler, a little more like home.

[writingoncloudydays]

The Chronicles of Stanley: Beyond the Nexus

Summary: follows Stanley, whose routine office life is disrupted when the guiding narrator disappears. Left to navigate a surreal and transforming office space, Stanley encounters conflicting narrators and discovers hidden worlds within his workplace. Through introspection and exploration, he rejects imposed narratives, embraces his agency, and embarks on a journey through a portal into the Nexus. There, he finds a sky city and begins a quest of self-discovery and adventure across diverse realms, shaping his destiny amidst the complexities of a multiverse.

Warnings: Mild Psychological Distress, Mind Manipulation, Mild Language, Mild Peril.

Words 0.74k

Stanley sat at his desk, the familiar hum of the office building now resonating with a newfound sense of possibility. The once predictable rhythm of his life had been irrevocably altered, and he was invigorated by the uncertainty ahead. The return of the original narrator, now an ally rather than a controller, marked the beginning of a partnership built on mutual respect and curiosity.

As Stanley gazed at the monitor before him, he noticed something strange. The screen, once a static array of spreadsheets and emails, now displayed a shimmering portal, its edges pulsating with a soft, inviting glow. He felt a nudge, not from an external force but from within, urging him to explore further.

“Are you ready, Stanley?” The narrator’s voice was calm, almost gentle. “This portal leads to worlds beyond your imagination, places where your choices will shape not just your destiny but the fabric of reality itself.” Stanley took a deep breath and nodded. He had faced his fears and emerged stronger; it was time to embrace the unknown.

When he stepped through the portal, he was immediately enveloped in a swirl of colours and sensations. Stanley stood in the middle of a vast, open landscape when the vortex subsided. The sky was a rich tapestry of swirling hues, and the ground beneath his feet seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light.

“Welcome to the Nexus,” the narrator explained. “This is the crossroads of countless worlds, where possibilities converge. Here, you can choose your path, explore new realms, and uncover the secrets of existence.”

Stanley felt a surge of excitement. He had never imagined such a place could exist, let alone that he would have the opportunity to explore it. He took a step forward, and as he did, pathways began to materialize before him, each leading to a different world.

One path led to a city suspended in the sky, its towers connected by shimmering bridges and bustling with life. Another path descended into a lush forest, where trees towered like skyscrapers, and the air was thick with the scent of flowers. A third path wound through a crystalline desert, where the sands sparkled like diamonds under a brilliant sun.

Stanley felt the weight of choice upon him, but instead of fear, he felt exhilaration. The paths before him represented physical journeys and opportunities for growth, learning, and transformation.

“I am here with you, Stanley,” the narrator said, his voice a reassuring presence. “But remember, the choices are yours. Your story is now your own to write.”

With a resolute nod, Stanley chose the path to the sky city. As he walked, he felt a sense of purpose and determination. The town rose to meet him, its towers gleaming in the sunlight. As he crossed the threshold into this new world, he felt the eyes of its inhabitants upon him, curious and welcoming.

The sky city was a marvel of engineering and beauty. Its streets were lined with trees and flowers, and the air was filled with laughter and music. Stanley felt a sense of belonging as if he had found a place where he could be himself.

A group of citizens greeted him, their faces alight with curiosity. “Welcome, traveller,” one of them said, a tall woman with eyes that sparkled like the stars. We have been expecting you. There is much to see and learn here. Come, let us show you our world.”

As Stanley followed his new companions, he marvelled at the wonders around him. He saw gardens suspended in mid-air, libraries filled with books that seemed to come alive with the touch of a hand, and workshops where ideas were transformed into reality with a mere thought.

Throughout his journey, the narrator remained comforting, offering insights and guidance but never dictating his actions. Stanley realized that this partnership was the key to his growth. Together, they could explore the depths of these new worlds and uncover their mysteries.

As the days turned into weeks, Stanley became integral to the sky city, contributing his unique perspective and skills. He discovered his journey was about exploring new places and understanding himself and his place in the universe.

[writingoncloudydays]

Hero x Villain

Summary: The villain captures the hero and tries to break their spirit through psychological manipulation.

Mainly posting this cause I haven't posted anything for ages, and I feel bad.

Warnings: Uhm, Kindnaping, manipulation.

0.53k words

In a land where shadows and light waged eternal battle, Hero was the beacon of hope. Armed with courage and a heart filled with the essence of justice, Hero ventured into the heart of darkness to confront Villain, the master of malevolence who sought to plunge the world into eternal night.

However, this time, Villain was prepared. Using a cunning trap, the Villain captured Hero and imprisoned them in a labyrinth of illusions designed to break their spirit. The prison walls shifted and morphed, each corner revealing new horrors crafted from Hero’s deepest fears and insecurities.

Villain appeared before Hero, a cruel smile playing on their lips. “Welcome to your new reality,” Villain said. “Here, your precious light is meaningless. I will break you, Hero, and the world will see that even the brightest flame can be snuffed out.”

The Hero stood tall, defiance in their eyes. “You underestimate the power of hope, Villain. Your illusions are nothing but shadows.” Villain’s laughter echoed through the labyrinth. “Let’s see how long your hope lasts.”

Days turned into nights without end as Hero faced a relentless assault on their psyche. Villain conjured visions of friends and loved ones suffering, blaming Hero for their pain. Hero saw the world they fought to protect consumed by darkness, their efforts rendered futile.

Hero’s resolve began to waver. Each vision struck deep, sowing seeds of doubt. “Maybe you are right,” Hero thought during a moment of despair. “What if I can’t save them?”

Sensing the cracks in Hero’s spirit, Villain pressed on. “You see it now, don’t you? You are not strong enough. You will fail, and they will suffer because of you.”

But amidst the torment, Hero remembered the faces of those who believed in the light. Memories of laughter, love, and kindness flickered like embers in the dark. Clinging to these memories, Hero found a glimmer of strength.

“No,” Hero said, voice firming. “This is your illusion, VillainVillain. The real world is filled with light and hope. As long as I believe, I can fight.” Villain’s expression darkened. “Stubborn to the end, I see. But belief alone won’t save you.”

The mental battle intensified. The Villain used every trick and every manipulation to shatter Hero’s spirit. But Hero pushed back, fueled by the enduring power of hope and the memories of brighter days. The labyrinth began to crack under the pressure of Hero’s unyielding will.

“You cannot win, Villain,” Hero declared. “For every shadow you cast, a light will break through.”

With a final surge of determination, Hero shattered the illusion, breaking free from Villain’s prison. The labyrinth crumbled, and the Villain stood exposed, their power over Hero broken.

Villain’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Impossible… How?”

Hero stepped forward, light radiating from within. “Because hope is stronger than fear. Love is stronger than hate. And the light will always pierce through the darkness.”

Villain, defeated and drained, could only watch as Hero’s light engulfed them. The world outside rejoiced as Hero emerged victorious, their spirit unbroken.

Hero looked towards the horizon, knowing the battle for light and hope would continue. And with that, Hero walked on, ever ready to protect the world from the shadows.

[writingoncloudydays]

Omen

a/n: Sorry for the wait, but here it is. Hopefully, it met your standards. Come along to ride this fic and see all the drama and happiness. This ended up being longer than I thought it would be, but oh well. I also don't have anyone to read over this for me, so I'm sorry in advance for grammar and spelling errors. The first chapter Is now complete. Enjoy <3 Warnings: Descriptions of dead bodies, usually hunting things, angst?? Maybe.

3.17k Words

The gentle humming of the Impla fills the silence swimming in the air, the gentle breeze brushing against Dean’s arm. Which hangs low out the window, his other hand drumming against the steering wheel.

The beat of the music flows through his hands, one drumming on the wheel, the other lightly tapping against the car door. He hummed softly to whatever songs were playing on the radio, occasionally singing along, causing Sam to chuckle at him. Sam sits in the passenger seat beside Dean, enjoying the comfortable silence and glad that Dean is enjoying the little things. Simple things rarely come to the boys, no matter how little they want them. There is always some end-of-the-earth mission to save, though it almost always ends with bloodshed. 

Sighing to himself, Sam shakes the thought, focusing back on the iPad with their case information to distance himself from the neverending pain in their lives. Sam tries to stay positive, but sometimes it's rather complicated. Seeing so many people he has loved going to nothing but a memory stored in his brain. 

Glancing over at Dean, a soft, simple smile rests on his face. He enjoys the gentle hum of the Impla and the loud music blasting from the speakers. The sight made him more at ease. His eyes fell back onto the iPad. Scanning over the information once more, he analysed all he could. Hunts never go as planned, and their first guess may only sometimes be correct.

The radio's volume dies down as the journey approaches the town. The once comfortable silence now feels weighted. The humming of the Impala, now drumming against their skull, gave a slight headache. The dread of the hunt is kicking it, and anything fun goes out the window. 

Dean and Sam Winchester arrive in the quaint town of Havenwood, Havenwood is a picturesque and seemingly idyllic small town in the heart of the American Midwest. Known for its charming, tree-lined streets and historic Victorian houses, Havenwood exudes a sense of timeless tranquillity.

The town square is a focal point of community life. It features a beautiful gazebo surrounded by meticulously maintained gardens and various locally owned shops and cafes that offer a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

However, Havenwood harbours a deep history intertwined with the supernatural beneath its serene exterior. The town's founding dates back to the early 1800s, and it has long been a place where the veil between the mundane and the mystical is fragile.

Local legends speak of unexplained phenomena and strange occurrences that have puzzled residents for generations. The town's proximity to ancient Native American burial grounds and location along ley lines add to its mysterious allure.

Sam worked on finding as much background information on the town as possible before they arrived, with some idea of the history and layout of the town.

The boys may have a slight advantage. As they never know what they could be, leading themselves into danger is always present. No case is safe. No matter how simple it may seem to their eyes, things can change drastically.

One of the reasons the case caught their attention was the string of mysterious deaths, which, of course, baffled the local authorities, having not seen anything remotely like this. Strangely, the town's officers have yet to take action after reaching dead ends and not solving the case. 

Dean and Sam Winchester drive their Impala down the winding roads of Havenwood, a town that seems to have been preserved in time. The sun sets behind the rolling hills, casting long shadows over the Victorian houses and the town square, where a handful of residents can be seen enjoying the cool evening. Despite its outward, the brothers sense an underlying tension in the air, a feeling that something sinister lurks just the surface.

Their first stop is the local morgue, a small, nondescript building adjacent to the town's clinic. The coroner, a middle-aged man named Dr. James Hargrove, greets them with a wary look. He has seen his share of unusual cases, but something quite different from this.

"You must be the FBI agents," he says, eyeing their fake badges with scepticism. "Agent Smith, Agent Wesson, right?"

"That's us," Dean replies with a confident smile. "We're here to take a look at the recent victims."

Dr. Hargrove leads them to a sterile, dimly lit room where the bodies are kept. The air is cold, and the fluorescent lights glare harshly on the metal tables. He pulls back the sheet from the first victim, a middle-aged woman named Martha Jenkins.

Her face is serene and almost peaceful, but the most striking feature is the strange, radiant burn mark on her chest—a sigil neither Dean nor Sam has seen.

"All the victims have this mark," Dr. Hargrove explains, his voice tinged with unease. "I’ve never seen anything like it. It's almost... celestial."

Dean leans in closer, studying the mark with a critical eye. "It's an angelic sigil, Sam. No doubt about it."

Sam nods, flipping through his father's journal for any references. "But it's not one we've come across before. It looks ancient, something from a time long before any of the angels we've encountered."

They move on to the next body, a young man named Peter Lawson, and then to an older woman named Edith Turner. Each bears the same sigil, each mark glowing faintly as if imbued with residual divine energy.

As they examine the bodies, they note other similarities: a look of peaceful resignation on their faces, no signs of struggle or pain, and no discernible cause of death other than the mysterious burns.

"These people didn't suffer," Sam observes, his brow furrowed in thought. "It's almost like they were... chosen."

"But chosen for what?" Dean mutters, frustration creeping into his voice. "And by whom?"

Their investigation leads them to the old church, Havenwood's most prominent landmark. There, they find Father O'Malley, the town's elderly priest, who is more than willing to share the church's history and strange occurrences.

"These deaths have shaken our community to its core," he says, his hands trembling slightly. But the symbols you've described match the ones in our stained glass windows. Come, I'll show you."

The brothers marvel at the church's intricate stained glass windows depicting various scenes of angelic intervention and divine protection. Hidden within the vibrant colours and celestial imagery are the same Enochian symbols they saw on the victims. Sam takes photographs, making sure to document every detail.

"These symbols are part of an ancient angelic ritual," Sam explains. "But why would someone be using them now?"

Dean's mind races as he considers the implications. Angelic rituals are not something that can be performed casually; they require immense power and purpose. The idea that someone—or something—is using them in Havenwood sends a chill down his spine. He glances at the bodies again, the radiant sigils glowing faintly in the dim light. The peaceful expressions on the victims' faces do little to ease his growing unease.

"We need more information," Dean mutters, pulling out his phone. "Cas might know what's going on." He dials Castiel's number, feeling the urgency of the situation pressing down on him. The phone rings, each moment stretching out as he waits for the angel to answer. Finally, the line crackles and Castiel's familiar gravelly voice comes through.

"Cas, we need you here. Now," Dean says, his tone urgent. "We're in Havenwood, and we've got a situation. People are dying, and they're marked with some kind of angelic sigil."

There's a pause on the other end, and Castiel replies, "I'm on my way."

Minutes later, Castiel appears in the corner of the room, his sudden presence causing the air to hum with residual energy. He takes in the scene: the bodies on the tables, the worried expressions on Dean and Sam's faces, and the photographs of the sigils.

"These marks... they're from a Seraphim," Castiel says, his eyes narrowing as he studies the images. "An ancient class of angels, far more powerful than most. They were believed to have vanished eons ago."

"Well, one of them's back," Dean replies, frustration evident in his voice. "And it's leaving a trail of bodies. Why now, Cas? Why here?"

Castiel shifts uncomfortably, his gaze meeting Dean's. "The Seraphim were guardians of divine secrets, keepers of Heaven's most sacred knowledge. If one has awakened, it's not by chance. Something significant has disturbed the celestial order."

Dean clenches his jaw, the tension between him and Castiel palpable. "We need answers, Cas. And fast. People are dying."

"I understand, Dean," Castiel responds, his tone softening slightly. "But the Seraphim are not like other angels. Their motives are beyond our comprehension. We must tread carefully."

Dean's frustration bubbles over. "Carefully? Cas, people are dying! We don't have time to be careful. We need to figure out what's going on and stop it."

Castiel's expression hardens. "I am aware of the urgency, Dean. But rushing in without understanding the full scope of the situation could make things worse."

Dean takes a deep breath, trying to reign in his anger. "Alright, fine. What do we need to do?"

"We need more information," Castiel says. "I will reach out to my contacts in Heaven. There may be records or knowledge about this Seraphim that we can use. In the meantime, you and Sam should continue investigating any local lore or history that might give us clues."

Dean nods reluctantly, the tension between them easing slightly. "Okay, Cas. But hurry. We can't afford to lose any more time."

With a determined look, Castiel disappears, leaving Dean and Sam to continue their investigation. As they regroup, the gravity of the situation settles over them. They know they are up against an ancient and powerful force, and the stakes have never been higher.

Castiel stands on a secluded hilltop, his eyes fixed on the twilight sky. The evening is still, but within the silence, he senses a disquieting tremor rippling through the fabric of the celestial realm. It is a subtle yet profound dispiecesthat reverberates through his very essence. His celestial senses, honed over eons, detect a surge of divine energy—ancient and formidable—stirring from a long-forgotten slumber.

The presence is unlike anything Castiel has encountered in millennia, its power both overwhelming and familiar. He closes his eyes, reaching out with his grace, probing the disturbance with cautious curiosity. As he delves deeper, fragments of ancient memories surface, fragments of an era when he was but a fledgling angel among the heavenly host. 

The presence he feels now resonates with the same awe-inspiring might of the Seraphim, celestial beings of immense power and purity, long thought dormant or lost to the annals of history. A sudden, vivid vision assaults his mind: a celestial being, radiant and terrible in its glory, standing amidst a sea of stars. Its wings, vast and shimmering with celestial light, cast an ethereal glow that illuminated the darkness. 

Castiel recognises this being—an ancient Seraphim whose name has been whispered in reverence and fear among the angels. The Seraphim's eyes, burning with a fierce determination, lock onto Castiel's, conveying a message of warning and challenge.

The vision fades, leaving Castiel breathless and shaken. He realises that this ancient power has awakened with a purpose that could reshape the foundations of Heaven and Earth. 

His implications are staggering; the balance of power within the celestial realm is shifting, and the Seraphim's intentions remain mysterious.

As they delve deeper into Havenwood's secrets, they uncover a local legend about a celestial guardian who once watched over the town, a Seraphim who vanished centuries ago. The legend speaks of a time when the guardian would return, chosen by the divine to carry out a holy mission. The puzzle pieces start to fit together, but the picture they form is far from reassuring.

Their next step is to regroup with Castiel, who has been scouring his sources for information. They meet at a secluded spot outside town, where Castiel shares his knowledge. "The Seraphim's awakening is not a random event," he says, his voice laden with urgency. "Something, or someone, has triggered it. We need to find out who and why."

The brothers and Castiel realise they are up against an ancient power with motives that could reshape the world. Armed with their newfound knowledge, they prepare to confront the celestial being, hoping to stop it before Havenwood becomes a battlefield in a war between Heaven and Earth. As they set their plan in motion, the tranquil town of Havenwood braces itself for the impending storm, unaware of the celestial forces converging upon it.

 With time running out and the body count rising, Dean and Sam must race to stop the rogue angel before Havenwood becomes ground zero for a catastrophic event that could unleash heavenly wrath upon the world.

With urgency, Castiel knows he must act swiftly. He turns to seek out Dean and Sam Winchester, his trusted allies, knowing they will need to be prepared for the trials ahead.

The disturbance in the celestial realm is not just a harbinger of change but a call to arms. Together, they must unravel the enigma of the Seraphim's awakening, uncover its intentions, and brace themselves for the celestial storm that threatens to engulf Heaven and Earth.

Dean and Sam drive through the night, the Impala's headlights cutting through the darkness as they race back to the Men of Letters bunker. The road is long and winding, but their minds are focused on the task ahead. They know they need more than just information; they need a plan and the right weapons to face a being as powerful as a Seraphim.

"Sam, start making a list of everything we know about the Seraphim," Dean says, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "We need to find any weaknesses, any lore that can give us an edge."

Sam nods, already flipping through their father's journal and cross-referencing it with his laptop. "I'll check our archives for any references to Seraphim. We might find something in the old Men of Letters files."

The miles pass in tense silence; both brothers are lost in their thoughts. The enormity of the situation weighs heavily on them, but they know they can't afford to falter. The familiar sense of determination settles over them as they pull into the bunker’s garage. This place, filled with the accumulated knowledge of generations of hunters, is their best chance at finding the answers they need.

Inside the bunker, Castiel is already waiting for them in the library, his expression grim but resolute. "We don't have much time," he says as they enter. "The Seraphim's presence will not go unnoticed by other celestial beings. We need to act quickly."

The Winchester brothers and Castiel gather in the dimly lit library of The Man of Letters Bunker, a place filled with the echoes of ancient knowledge and supernatural lore. 

The heavy wooden table before them is strewn with open books, faded maps, and pages of Enochian script. The air is thick with tension as they process the gravity of the situation.

We need to find out everything we can about this Seraphim," Sam says, laying out the books he brought from the Impala. "Its history, purpose, anything that can give us a clue about what it wants and how we can stop it."

Dean adds, "And we need to arm ourselves. We can't go in empty-handed if we're going up against something this powerful. Cas, any ideas on what might work against a Seraphim?"

Castiel nods thoughtfully. "Angel blades will be effective, but we might need something stronger. There are ancient weapons relics from the time of the first angels that might be hidden in the Men of Letters' vaults. I'll help you locate them."

Dean paces back and forth, his brow furrowed with worry. "So, you're telling us this Seraphim is awake? An ancient angel that powerful isn't something we can just hunt down and gank," he says, glancing at Castiel with a mix of disbelief and concern.

Castiel, standing by a dusty bookshelf, nods solemnly. His usually calm demeanour is tinged with unease. "Yes, Dean. The Seraphim are among the oldest and most powerful of angels. They were created at the dawn of time, their power rivalling that of archangels. If one has awakened, it signifies a monumental shift in the celestial realm."

Sam, seated at the table, poring over an ancient tome, looks up. "I found a reference to the Seraphim in these texts. They were believed to be guardians of the divine order and protectors of Heaven's most sacred secrets. But they disappeared ages ago, their fate unknown."

"Until now," Dean mutters, rubbing his temples. "Why now, Cas? What could have possibly triggered its awakening?"

Castiel sighs, his blue eyes reflecting his inner turmoil. "I don't know. But the disturbance I felt in the celestial realm is unmistakable.” The Seraphim's presence is a beacon—a powerful surge of divine energy that hasn't been felt for millennia. Whatever its purpose, it won't go unnoticed by other celestial beings or those seeking to exploit its power.

The room falls into a contemplative silence, the weight of the revelation settling over them. The implications are vast and daunting. An ancient being of immense power, with motivations unknown, could spell disaster not only for Heaven but for Earth as well.

Sam breaks the silence, his voice steady but persistent. "We need to find out everything we can about this Seraphim. Its history, purpose, anything that can give us a clue about what it wants and how we can stop it."

Dean nods in agreement, his resolve hardening. "Agreed. We can't let this thing wreak havoc. We need to be prepared for whatever it throws our way."

Castiel steps forward, a determined look on his face. "I'll reach out to my remaining contacts in Heaven, see if they know anything. We must tread carefully. The Seraphim's awakening will attract attention, and not all of it will be friendly."

As they delve into their research, the sense of urgency grows. Every passing moment brings them closer to a confrontation with an ancient and powerful being.

The stakes have never been higher, and failure is not an option. Armed with knowledge, determination, and the strength of their unbreakable bond, Dean, Sam, and Castiel prepare to face the Seraphim and the celestial storm it heralds.

The brothers and their angelic allies feel a sense of urgency as they disperse to gather complicated information to formulate a plan. The bunker, usually a sanctuary of relative safety, now feels like the war room of a desperate battle.

They are on the cusp of facing a threat unlike any they have encountered before—a being from the dawn of time with the power to reshape the destiny of both Heaven and Earth.

With their bond of trust and unwavering determination, Dean, Sam, and Castiel prepare to confront the ancient Seraphim. They know their journey will be difficult, but they also know they stand a chance to protect the world from an unimaginable celestial upheaval. 

[writingoncloudydays]

Heaven's Reckoning Masterlist

Summary: Dean Winchester and Castiel, the fallen angel, face an unprecedented threat when an ancient celestial entity, known as the Seraphim, awakens with plans to reshape Heaven and Earth. As alliances are tested and new enemies emerge, Dean and Castiel must navigate a world where the lines between good and evil blur, uncovering deep secrets about Castiel's past and the true origins of Heaven itself.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

↳˗ˏˋPress Playˊˎ˗ ↴

➤ Omen

➤ Revelations (Coming soon)

➤ Divided Loyalties

➤ Ancient Bonds

➤The Fallen

➤ Hope and Despair

➤ Heaven's Fall

➤ Aftermath

➤Epilogue: New Beginnings

[writingoncloudydays]

Officially working on the fic idea

Hi everyone, I am officially working on the fic idea, so stay tuned for that. The master list will posted later today with the name and chapter titles. More chapters may be added before the epilogue if you want to have the story longer. That’s all for now, so stay tuned and enjoy <3

[writingoncloudydays]

Oops they broke the fourth wall

Summary: The Narrator and Stanley become aware that the player controls their actions. They decide to confront the player directly, leading to a metafictional journey where reality and fiction blur together. How do The Narrator and Stanley navigate this surreal experience, and what insights do they gain about their existence?

Warnings: Nothing really, fourth wall breaking, Stanley being Stanley.

0.71k words

It started with a whisper, a faint sensation that something was amiss in the fabric of their reality. Stanley and The Narrator exchanged wary glances, their senses tingling with a newfound awareness of the unseen forces at play.

This whisper was not just an auditory hallucination but a profound disturbance, a crack in the veneer of their carefully constructed world. It was a subtle yet undeniable hint that the reality they had known was not as concrete as they once believed.

As they delved deeper into the mystery, their investigation led them to the revelation that shook the very foundations of their existence: they were characters in a video game, their every action dictated by the whims of an unseen player.

The realization hit them like a tidal wave, washing away the illusions of autonomy they had clung to. The walls of their environment seemed to close in, and the once-familiar paths and corridors took on an eerie, labyrinthine quality.

Shocked and disbelieving, Stanley and The Narrator embarked on a quest to confront the player directly, determined to seize control of their own destinies.

Their journey took them through the twisted corridors of their narrative, where reality and fiction blurred together in a kaleidoscope of surreal imagery. Hallways stretched into infinity, doors led nowhere and everywhere, and the air seemed charged with the potential for the impossible.

Along the way, they encountered bizarre creatures and mind-bending puzzles, each reflecting the player's influence on their world. They faced off against grotesque monstrosities that mirrored.

Their inner fears and grappled with conundrums that bent the rules of logic and physics. With each obstacle they overcame, Stanley and The Narrator grew more determined to break free from their scripted existence and forge their own path.

But as they drew closer to their goal, they began to question the nature of their reality and the meaning of their existence. Were they nothing more than puppets dancing on the strings of fate, or did they possess the power to transcend their predetermined roles?

This existential quandary gnawed at them, causing rifts in their partnership and moments of deep introspection. The boundaries between player and character, creator and creation, seemed increasingly nebulous.

In the depths of their existential crisis, Stanley and The Narrator found unexpected allies in the form of other characters who had become aware of their own fictional nature. These newfound companions, each with their own stories of awakening, added layers of complexity to their quest.

Together, they formed a ragtag band of rebels, united in their pursuit of freedom from the player's control. This diverse group, ranging from forgotten side characters to antagonists turned comrades, brought their unique perspectives and strengths to the rebellion.

As they reached the climax of their journey, Stanley and The Narrator finally confronted the player in a showdown that would determine the fate of their world. The confrontation was not a traditional battle but a profound dialogue that transcended the screen.

Instead of seeking vengeance or retribution, they offered forgiveness and understanding, recognizing that the player was merely a reflection of their own desires and fears. This moment of empathy and enlightenment bridged the gap between player and character, human and digital entity.

In the end, Stanley and The Narrator emerge victorious, not by defeating their adversary, but by embracing the truth of their existence and finding meaning in the chaos of their shared narrative.

They realized that their journey had been one of self-discovery and that true freedom comes not from controlling the story but from embracing the uncertainty of life's journey and writing their own destiny, one choice at a time.

As they stepped into the unknown together, Stanley and The Narrator understood that their journey was far from over. They had forged a new path, one where the lines between creator and creation, storyteller and story, were forever blurred.

With courage and conviction, they faced whatever challenges lay ahead, ready to shape their future in a world where anything was possible.

For they had learned that true freedom is not an end but a process, a continuous unfolding of choices and possibilities. In that infinite expanse of potential, they found a sense of purpose and a renewed determination to explore the vast, uncharted territories of their existence together.

[writingoncloudydays]

The roles are reversed

Summary: Stanley wakes up one day to find himself in the narrator's role, controlling the story of his own life. How does he handle this newfound power, and how does The Narrator react to suddenly becoming the protagonist?

Warnings: Nothing really, just a silly story of Stanley and the Narrator

0.76k words

Stanley awoke to a strange sensation. His surroundings felt oddly familiar yet unsettlingly different. As he rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings, he realized he was no longer in his own body; he was now the Narrator of his own story.

Confusion and disbelief gripped Stanley as he stumbled through the narrative, his words shaping the world around him. Every action and every decision was now under his control, and the weight of that responsibility was staggering. He had always been a mere puppet in The Narrator's hands, but now he held the strings of fate.

At first, Stanley revelled in his newfound power, relishing the freedom to carve his path. He explored corners of his existence that had previously been off-limits, taking risks and making choices he had never dared to before. He narrated himself going on grand adventures, visiting exotic places, and meeting fascinating people. Each word he spoke wove new threads into the tapestry of his life. The thrill of control was intoxicating.

But as the novelty wore off, Stanley began to feel the weight of his decisions pressing down on him. His every utterance carried consequences, some unintended and severe. He narrated himself into a high-stakes business deal, only to find that the pressure and ethical compromises gnawed at his conscience. 

He crafted perfect relationships, only to realize that genuine connection couldn't be orchestrated through mere words. The burden of constant control and the fear of making irreversible mistakes began to weigh heavily on his mind.

Meanwhile, The Narrator finds himself thrust into the role of the protagonist, a position he had never anticipated nor desired. No longer able to dictate the course of events, he was forced to navigate Stanley's world as a mere mortal, subject to the whims of his creation. 

The Narrator struggled with the mundane tasks of daily life—cooking, commuting, and social interactions—that he had previously observed from a detached, omniscient perspective. The loss of control was disorienting, and he often longed for the certainty and structure of his former role.

As Stanley grappled with the consequences of his actions, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the way he had treated The Narrator in the past. He had always resented being controlled, but now he understood the loneliness and frustration of being a character in someone else's story. This empathy extended beyond The Narrator; Stanley began to see his coworkers, friends, and family in a new light, recognizing their struggles and complexities.

Despite their newfound roles, Stanley and The Narrator were drawn together by a common bond—their shared struggle for agency and autonomy. As they journeyed through the narrative, they forged an unlikely alliance, each learning from the other and growing unexpectedly. 

With his grounded human perspective, Stanley taught The Narrator the beauty of spontaneity and the joy of unforeseen outcomes. Conversely, The Narrator shared his wisdom on the broader arcs of stories, helping Stanley see the bigger picture and understand the importance of pacing and patience.

Ultimately, Stanley realized that true freedom didn't come from controlling the story but from embracing the uncertainty of life's twists and turns. And as he relinquished his hold on the narrative, he discovered a newfound sense of liberation in simply being himself. He began to narrate less and live more, allowing events to unfold naturally. This shift brought a sense of peace and authenticity that he had never experienced before.

As for The Narrator, he found solace in the realization that he was more than just a disembodied voice; he was a character in his own right, with his own hopes, dreams, and desires. And though his role in the story had changed, he knew that his journey was far from over. 

The Narrator begins to embrace his human form, finding joy in small victories and personal growth. He learned to savour the present moment, appreciating the richness of experiences he once merely described.

Together, Stanley and The Narrator embarked on a new chapter of their lives, navigating the complexities of their intertwined destinies with newfound humility and understanding. Their relationship evolved from one of creator and creation to that of true partners. They supported each other through challenges, celebrated successes together, and provided comfort during times of doubt.

As they faced each new challenge, they knew their bond would carry them through whatever twists and turns lay ahead. Their journey was no longer about controlling or being controlled but about mutual respect and the shared experience of living a life that was indeed their own for the first time.

[writingoncloudydays]

Fic idea????

Would anyone be interested in reading a short fic about Destiel? It would be about 10 or so chapters long with an epilogue. There would be no posting schedule what so ever though I apologise I am very inconsent withhow I post shit. I got bored and thought of the concept and wanted your opinions. Also, I have planing this rather than doing my final oops, so take it as you will

Summary: Dean Winchester and Castiel, the fallen angel, face an unprecedented threat when an ancient celestial entity, known as the Seraphim, awakens with plans to reshape Heaven and Earth. As alliances are tested and new enemies emerge, Dean and Castiel must navigate a world where the lines between good and evil blur, uncovering deep secrets about Castiel's past and the true origins of Heaven itself.

[writingoncloudydays]

The road trip

Summary: Dean and Castiel embark on a cross-country road trip, taking a break from hunting to explore the open road. A break by themselves is the buys need to relax.

Warnings: none, something short and sweet, fluffy road trips and bad singing.

1.09k words

With the Impala's engine purring beneath them, Dean and Castiel set out on a journey that promised adventure, camaraderie, and the open road stretching before them like an invitation to freedom. The first rays of dawn began to break over the horizon as they drove, casting a soft, golden light across the landscape.

Dean glanced over at Castiel, who was gazing out the window with a serene expression. The sight of the angel bathed in the warm glow of the sunrise made Dean's heart swell with an unspoken emotion. He turned his attention back to the road, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Looks like it's gonna be a beautiful day," Dean said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Castiel nodded, his eyes still on the horizon. "Yes, it is. The beginning of something new."

They drove in silence for a while longer, the Impala's steady hum the only sound. The sky shifted from deep blue to brilliant shades of orange and pink, the sun climbing higher with each passing minute. Eventually, Dean pulled the car over to a scenic overlook, the perfect spot to watch the sunrise in all its glory.

"Thought we could use a little break," Dean said as he killed the engine.

Castiel nodded in agreement, and they stepped out of the car. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the promise of a new day. They leaned against the hood of the Impala, side by side, as they watched the sun rise over the rolling hills.

"It's beautiful," Castiel remarked, his voice soft and filled with awe.

Dean turned to look at him, the sunlight catching in Castiel's blue eyes and making them sparkle. "Yeah, it is," he agreed, though his gaze was fixed on Castiel rather than the horizon.

For a moment, they stood there in silence, soaking in the beauty of the moment. Dean felt a sense of peace he hadn't experienced in a long time. The burdens of their past and the uncertainties of their future seemed to fade away, leaving only the present moment and the quiet companionship they shared.

Eventually, they climbed back into the Impala and continued their journey. Their decision to take a break from hunting was a welcome respite from the constant battles against the supernatural. As they drove through small towns and vast expanses of countryside, they found themselves drawn into the rhythm of life on the road.

Their first stop was a quaint diner on the outskirts of town, where they indulged in greasy burgers and thick milkshakes. Amidst the clatter of dishes and the chatter of patrons, they shared stories of their past adventures, swapping tales of triumph and tragedy with equal parts humour and nostalgia.

As they continued their journey, they encountered quirky roadside attractions that sparked their curiosity and ignited their imaginations. From the world's largest ball of twine to a museum dedicated to the paranormal, each detour brought them closer together as they marvelled at the world's wonders.

But it wasn't just the sights that brought them closer; it was the conversations they shared along the way. In the quiet moments between destinations, they delved into profound and mundane topics, discussing their hopes, fears, and dreams for the future. 

Dean opened up to Castiel in ways he never had before, sharing his insecurities and vulnerabilities with a rare honesty that surprised him. And Castiel, in turn, revealed glimpses of his humanity, showing a depth of emotion that belied his angelic nature.

One afternoon, as the sun began to set and painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, Dean pulled the Impala over by a secluded lakeside. The air was warm, and the sounds of nature filled the silence. They spread a blanket on the car's hood and lay back, looking up at the emerging stars.

"Dean, I think you should take a break from driving," Castiel suggested with a small smile, his eyes reflecting the starlight.

Dean chuckled. "Cas, you know I love my baby too much to let anyone else drive her. Besides, what could be better than this?"

Castiel's gaze softened. "I suppose you're right."

Dean's hand reached for the radio as they settled into a comfortable silence, tuning it to a station playing classic rock. The familiar strains of "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor filled the air, and Dean's face lit up with a mischievous grin.

"Oh no," Castiel said, recognizing the look in Dean's eyes.

Dean jumped out of the car and started singing along dramatically, using an invisible microphone. "Risin' up, back on the street! Did my time, took my chances!" His voice was strong and enthusiastic, if not exactly on key.

Castiel watched him for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips, before he, too, joined in. Though his singing was awkward and stiff, the joy in his eyes was unmistakable. Together, they belted out the lyrics, their voices mingling with the night air. They laughed at how ridiculous they must look, but it didn't matter. The moment was perfect.

As the song ended, they collapsed onto the blanket, laughing and breathless. Dean turned to Castiel, their faces close under the starry sky. "You know, Cas, we make a pretty good team," he said softly.

"Yes, Dean," Castiel replied, his voice equally soft. "I believe we do."

Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence, and their bond was stronger than ever. They lay there, side by side, the warmth of their bodies a silent reassurance of their unspoken feelings.

Eventually, the night grew calmer, and they retreated to the Impala's front seat. Dean turned the engine on, letting it idle as they reclined in their seats. The soft hum of the engine was a soothing background noise as they talked about everything and nothing.

As the hours passed, the conversation dwindled, and a peaceful quiet settled over them. Dean glanced at Castiel, who was staring out the window, lost in thought. He reached out and placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks for being here, Cas," Dean said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

Castiel turned to him, his blue eyes warm and earnest. "Always, Dean."

They drove on through the night, the road ahead uncertain and filled with challenges. But as long as they had each other, they knew they could face whatever the future held with courage and conviction. Two souls bound by destiny and a love that transcended time and space, their hearts united in the endless expanse of the open road.

[writingoncloudydays]

I need you more than you know

Summary: Dean needs Castiel more than he realizes. The thought of not having him hurts more than he will admit.

Warnings: Angsty, mention and description of character death, hurt/ no comfort, mentions of vomit.

0.87k Words

The hunt had only been a couple of hours away, and there were only a few vampires. However, they did happen to get Sam and Dean into trouble, leading Castiel to make a dramatic entrance to save them both. Nealy gets hurt but quickly recovers, hoping to hide the fact from Sam and Dean. Dean saw it—he always did. He saw the rush of panic sweep Castiel's eyes; his body stiffened as he quickly thought of his next move.

Sam was thankful, of course. Dean, however, had a little more trouble expecting help. He and Castiel had hit a rough patch again, and Castiel had only recently come back after dying again. Though he seemed to reject the idea of Castiel helping them, his anger masked his worry.

The thought of losing him again hurt more than it should. The image of Castiel lying lifeless in his arms, those once shining blue eyes now a dual grey staring back at him. His lips were slightly parted as the last breath escaped them, slipping past in a quiet sigh. The weight of his body presses against slightly falling, only stopping when Dean grips tighter onto him. Tears swell in his eyes, blurring the sight of his lover best friend dead in his arms.

The feeling of his chest fighting a high-pitched ringing in his ears. The compression of his chest turned his breath shallow and quick. A thick layer of sweat soaked his shirt, making the material uncomfortable on his skin. The shortness of breath fuels the dizzy feeling consuming him. The ringing heightens its pitch, and the sound is now becoming unbearable. Head-pounding thoughts swim, and he feels himself drown in guilt.

Dean could still feel Castiels hands slip out of his own, losing the warmth that Dean craved to feel against him. They don't want to be the reason Castiel's eyes shine bright; they need to see them sparkle in the sunlight. Watching as light hits them alters the colour to a pale blue that stares into his soul. To feel the connection between them every time they touch, small lingering touches that only they seem to notice.

The small touches push their friendship closer to the border, but neither one will admit it. Noting but secret touches and lingering touches, not wanting to push the boards of friendship. They're drawn to each other. Something connects their souls. Pushing them towards each other despite everything else around them. It's always them. Nothing else matters.

Eyes locking for longer than necessary blue night, staring back into a green forest. Colours clash but mix well, with the sky swimming through the green grass, rain falling into trees, and the bark painting in droplets. Eyes slowly drop down to each other lips, slightly parting them, the other running his tongue over his bottom lip. The realisation of their situations dawns on them both. Eyes no longer staring at faces, now focused hands in closed fists. Fighting then the thin line between friends and lovers that neither dares to cross.

Nothing was said between them, and nothing will ever be said. Things stay the same. That's how things were: nothing would change. The risk was too high, and the game would continue as it always did. The feelings that burn inside them will never become a flaming forest.

A candle had only a small spark, and the wind threatened to put it out. The fine line between friends and lovers weighed on the candle, flicking with every lingering touch, game of jealousy, fight, and every godman time they had woken in each other's beds in each other's arms. No one dared to say anything. It was easier that way, wasn't it, not to have the risk of being set a flame?

Dean wanted to confess that he wanted to feel Castiel against him. He wanted someone to care for him, tell him it's okay to cry, comfort him. To wake up in his arms, breathing softly, his face relaxed against Castiek's chest, smiley softly at the sight above him.

Yet now, he would never get the chance to have him as his lover Castiel was gone, and they hadn't gotten him back. It wasn't Castiel who saved Sam and Dean on the hunt; it was Charlie, not Castiel.

Dean's brain tried to heal his heart by replacing the hurt with closure, which only worsened things. Nothing seems to help anymore apart from the liquor in his beer bottle, which is now empty; only a thin layer coats the bottom. Many bottles linger around his room, the stench becoming thick, mixing with the smell of dried vomit. Only having liquor and small amounts of food a day, that's if he remembers to eat. His body feels dead, his heart clinging to the little hope of getting Castiel back. His brain fighting to keep him alive, but it falls deaf on his ears.

Dean was affected by Castiels death more than he wanted to admit. The pain was unbearable. His heart ached. A piece was messing that nobody else could replace.

Dean could not expect Cass's death.

Dean misses Cass. He missed his best friend.

Dean loves loved Castiel more than he wanted to admit.

[writingoncloudydays]

Accidental praying

Summary: Dean has been having very explicit dreams of his best friend. Little does he know that each time he says his name, Castiel hears him. He hears every single sound Dean makes. Castiel enjoys listening to Dean; his voice makes his body shudder with each moan he hears. However, Castiel has a cracking point that ends up involving some brownies.

Warnings: Smut-sih, wet dream, fluff, making out, goes from being smutty to cute fluffy making out.

1.40k words

Life in the bunker has been more complex to adjust to than Sam and Dean thought. Not having a home for so long, only staying at shitty hotels and sleeping in baby, which was more of a struggle for Sam. With his lanky frame that clashed with the confined spaces of their temporary lodgings. He would grumble about his discomfort. The cramped seats and lack of legroom only added to his frustration, prompting Dead to fiercely defend his beloved Impala. To him, his car was more than just a transposition; it symbolised constancy in their otherwise chaotic world. 

Yet, despite the challenges, the allure of a place to call their own beckoned to them. The bunker offered sanctuary from the constant threat of danger lurking outside. They no longer had to worry about enemies breaking in or monsters lurking in the shadows. Here, they could finally relax, surrounded by familiar walls and the comforts of home.

For Sam and Dean, the prospect of real beds with clean sheets was a luxury they had long forgotten. Separate rooms meant privacy, a rarity in their line of work, where every moment was spent in each other's company. And separate bathrooms? That was practically unheard of, a small indulgence they never knew they craved until now.

As they settled into their new surroundings, Sam and Dean realised that perhaps, amidst the chaos of their lives, there was still room for a semblance of normalcy. The bunker wasn't just a shelter; it was a refuge, a place where they could finally breathe easily and be themselves. And as they embraced this newfound sense of stability, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together in the safety of their own home.

However, they would still get Castiel randomly appearing and spooking them, leading to awkward situations. For instance, when Sam walked out of his shower with only a towel, Cass startled him, which caused him to drop the towel. Sam couldn’t look him in the eye for two weeks, and his face would heat up in embarrassment. Dean found the whole situation hilarious until he had his own encounter with the angel. 

It was a typical morning. Dean did not have anything on for that day. He slept in, letting his dreams surround him. Lately, a particular angel has made a star appearance in a not-so-friendly way. The dreams are in all sorts of places around the bunker, his room, the table in the library, against most of the walls, and Dean favoured the kitchen. The kitchen always felt like his second home, cooking for Sam, drinking after a long hunt, and talking with Castiel. However, lately, he has been unable to enter the room without getting hot flashes of all the different ways Castiel had his way with him.

Dean woke from another one of dreams, the sheet sticking to his body, his breath heavy, his chest rising and falling fast. Panting, he lets out a groan, his cock staining against his boxers, a stain of pre cum can be seen forming. Dean kicks the sheet off to ease his discomfort, letting the cool air flow over his body. The air does little to nothing to cool his body temperature, only making his nipples peak and adding to his Harding cock.

His eyes are heavy with sleep groaning from the familiar feeling of his cock straining against his boxers. Rubbing his face, letting his mind wander to how Castiel's hands and mouth felt on him, grabbing and manhandling as he pleased.

“Fuck Cass.” He groaned and ran his hands down his face.

“Yes, Dean?” His voice mixed with the sound of his wings fluttering.

"FUCK Cass!" Dean's voice now panicked, jumping to cover his hard-on with the blanket. "What are you doing here?" He asked, trying to calm down, though the thought of being caught by Castiel moaning his name had Deam squirming under his gaze.

“You called me. Are you hurt?” Castiel said, doing his adorable head tile when he was confused as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Dean blushed like a schoolboy around his crush.

"Your breathing is all rushed, and you're quite red in the face and sweating. Are you sick?" Castiel starts making his way over to Dean before he shouts.

"Wait, it's fine, Cass, just leave," Dean stated quickly while bringing his knees to rest against his chest to hide his hard cock from Castiel's gaze. At Dean's request, Castiel stops moving towards him, his eyes roaming his body, slowly taking in Dean's beautiful sight. From his flushed face, making his freckles more noticeable. He would sit, hold his face, and count them if Dean let him. His broad shoulders were slightly shaky, his breathing was heavy, and sweat beads were running down his stomach following the outline of Dean's abs. The sight makes Castile groan, the growing urge to sit on his knees in between Dean's legs and lick up his chest, run his hands over his pecs, and kiss him till he is no longer breathing. He doesn't act on his thoughts, only nodding, heading to the door and closing it behind him.

Dean cusses and jumps out of his bed to head to the shower to deal with his problem and his plan to try and avoid Cass Castiel for the rest of the day. Which didn’t end up being too hard as the angel seemed to have disappeared to who knows where, not that Dean cared.

Whenever Dean is upset, he ends up in the same place as always, in the kitchen, with a beer and brownie mix on the table. Baking has become one of Dean's favourite time escapes—no stress, just something fun to do. Dean places all the ingredients in the bowl and mixes them, slowly folding them together before pouring them into the oven tray. Perfect.

Dean must wait until they are done cooking or when he gets too impatient and eats them raw. Being too distracted with the baking, he didn't notice the familiar sound of wings fluttering into the kitchen. He needs to start paying more attention to carefully placing the tray in the oven. Greeting Castiel with a perfect view of his ass, his gaze darkens, watching Dean's hips sway a little. Closing the oven and setting the timer for 15 minutes before standing up straight and taking a swing of his beer.

Dean's heart raced as he processed the whirlwind of sensations Cass's close proximity induced. "Ah, Jesus, Cass, you gave me a heart attack," he blurted out, trying to regain composure.

Cass, unfazed, responded, "You show no sign of having a heart attack, and what does Jesus have to do with it?"

Dean chuckled nervously, attempting to brush it off. "It's a metaphor, Cass, don't worry," he said, realizing how close Cass was and feeling his face flush with heat.

Dean struggled to focus as Cass leaned in closer, trapping Dean with his muscular arms. Cass's disregard for personal space was both exhilarating and disorienting. "Um, need anything else, Cass?" Dean stumbled over his words, excited as Cass smirked and locked eyes with him.

Cass's gaze lingered on Dean's lips, sending shivers down Dean's spine. "No, I'm not trying to kill you," Cass replied cryptically, his hands moving closer to Dean's body.

Caught off guard, Dean's mind raced as he tried to process Cass's intentions. "I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to," Dean stuttered nervously, feeling Cass's hands gently resting on his hips.

But Cass's reassurance and comforting touch melted Dean's nervousness away. "You have nothing to be nervous about, Dean," Cass murmured, his lips tantalizingly close to Dean's.

Dean felt emboldened by Cass's words, drawn to Cass's lips, his heart pounding with anticipation. Dean surrendered to the moment's intensity as their lips met passionately, wrapping his arms around Cass's neck.

Their kiss deepened as Cass's hands roamed over Dean's body, igniting a fiery desire within him. Lost in the heat of the moment, Dean gasped for breath as Cass's lips trailed down his neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake.

But Sam and Dean's sudden entrance abruptly interrupted their passionate embrace, causing Dean to crash back into reality. Flustered and embarrassed, Dean quickly tried to deflect attention from their intimate moment, only to be teased mercilessly by the Winchester brothers. Dean couldn't shake the lingering sensation of Cass's touch as the chaos unfolded around them, his mind already wandering.

[writingoncloudydays]

Starlight Date Night

Summary: Dean goes on a cute starlight date with Castiel to have a break from their chaotic lives.

Warnings: None, just some cute short fluff since I haven't posted anything yet.

0.62k words

Castiel and Dean found solace from the chaos of their daily lives in the sleepy town of Kanas, nestled under a blanket of twinkling stars. The night was warm, the air alive with the symphony of crickets and the whisper of the wind rustling through the trees. But it was the company they cherished most, lying side by side on the hood of Dean's beloved Chevy Impala.

Dean's Impala was more than just a car; it was a sanctuary, a symbol of freedom, and a steadfast companion on countless adventures. And tonight, it served as the perfect stage for their private rendezvous under the celestial canopy.

Castiel gazed up at the vast expanse of the night sky, his eyes tracing the constellations with a childlike wonder. "Dean, look," he said, pointing to an exceptionally bright star. "That one reminds me of the first time we met."

Dean followed Castiel's gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I remember," he replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "You fell from heaven and landed right in front of me."

Castiel chuckled, the sound like music to Dean's ears. "I suppose you could say that," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I prefer to think of fate as bringing us together."

Dean reached out and intertwined his fingers with Castiel's, their hands fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces. "Yeah, well, whatever it was, I'm sure glad it happened," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, content to bask in each other's presence and the tranquil beauty of the night. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two and the promise of endless possibilities stretching before them.

Dean couldn't help but marvel at the sheer perfection of the moment as they lay there. Here he was, with the person he loved more than anything, sharing a quiet moment of intimacy beneath the stars. Moments like these made all the struggles and sacrifices worth it.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel replied, turning to look at him with a gentle smile.

"I just wanted to say...thank you," Dean said, his voice thick with emotion. "For everything. For always being there for me, never giving up on me, even when I gave you every reason to."

Castiel's smile softened, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Dean, you don't have to thank me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've given me more than I could ever ask for. You've given me love, hope, and a reason to keep fighting, even when the world seems dark and hopeless."

Dean felt a lump form in his throat as he reached out to cup Castiel's cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I love you, Cas," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Castiel leaned into Dean's touch, his eyes shining with love and adoration. "And I love you, Dean," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "More than words could ever express."

They closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes of their love. And as they lost themselves in each other's embrace, the stars above bore witness to the beauty of their love, a love that would endure for eternity.

For in each other's arms, Castiel and Dean had found their home, their sanctuary, their reason to believe that no matter what trials life threw their way, as long as they had each other, they could weather any storm.

And so, beneath the starlit canopy, they lay entwined, hearts beating as one, two souls bound together for all eternity in a love that burned brighter than the stars themselves.

[writingoncloudydays]

Clouds Navigation

˚₊‧꒰ა ☁︎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Welcome to my navigation. I am a stressed small writer who writes fanfics instead of doing my assessments. Hoping you enjoy my work. Feel free to leave comments and requests if you would like. That would make my day. I may post original works as well. I know I have been working on thriller/horror ones lately. If anyone wants a sneak peek at that, let me know. That is all now. Happy reading Little Clouds :)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☁︎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Fandoms

Supernatural

➸ Accidental Praying

➸ Starlight Date Night

➸ I need you more than you know

➸The road trip

➸Simple life together

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Heaven's Reckoning Masterlist

The Stanely Parable

➸The roles are now reversed

➸Oops, he broke the fourth wall

➸ The Chronicles of Stanley: Beyond the Nexus

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Random shorts

➸Hero x Villain

I am also involved in other fandoms but have yet to write for them: Detroit: Become Human, FNAF, Haikyuu, Marvel, My Hero Academia, Shatter Me, and The Walking Dead.