#No beta we die like Dean

[gildedphoenix]

SuperPhantom - White Crow

Posting this now because I'm not sure I'll ever finish it. Feel free to contribute.

White Crow SuperPhantom (965 words)

--+--

Dean answered his ringing flip phone. And NO Sam, he doesn't need a smart phone. The battery on this thing lasts 5 days and it survives being in Dean's pocket when he's thrown against a wall by the bad guy of the week.

"Hi Bobby. Whatcha got for us?"

"I hope you've got gas in the take because this one is going to be a bit of a chase." Bobby opened. "I've got reports coming in from all over about a white crow being linked to dozens of deaths. None of the hunters who've looked into it so far have been able to track the creature or find any connections between the victims. The issue is that some of the crimes aren't fresh. The last victim, a Tim Stillion, had been dead for weeks. Can't figure out the cause because the animals had been at his body. And unless this bird can teleport, he was on the other side the country when Stillion was kill't."

Sam, who was already clickity clacking on his laptop, spoke up. "It sounds like the crow isn't a portent of death then, but just a reporter. But how is it finding the bodies?"

"Yeah," Bobby drawled "I figured you'd come to that conclusion. That's why I called you boys. Every other hunter is out here trying to end this bird when it's solved more cold cases then all of them combined. Bunch of idgits."

Dean grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and started towards the garage. "So where are we headed Bobby? Any word on the last sighting?"

"Last couple time it was seen, it was around central Illinois."

"Let's roll"

-=-=-=-=-

Sam Manson revved her vespa and continued chasing the white crow down ST-54. They'd been at this for weeks now. And despite it all, Sam was just happy that she'd found Danny at all.

/three weeks ago/

Danny had a tendency to drop whatever he was holding if he got summoned but for once, he kept hold of his cell phone. So when he ended up disappearing in the middle of a Doom speed run, Tucker was able to track him down. And after a few minutes (and way too few reasonable security measures) Sam and Tucker were able to watch a live stream from a web connected Nanny cam. The room was all white, leather couches pushed back against the walls. Marble and brass coffee table set with white taper candles. Starbucks cups sitting on the ledge of the kitchen counter. And in the middle of the room, Phantom. Desperately trying to convince 6 PTA, HOA, Basic Witches that he was indeed the Ghost King that they were trying to summon.

"There's no way!" leopard print blouse said. "You look like one of my son's friends."

A woman in a white gauze blouse and white wash jeans stepped forward. It must be her house, because she matched the decor. "How did you highjack the summoning?!" It was the same tone every teen has heard from their parents. The tone that said they'd already decided what had happened and were just waiting for you to admit fault.

"Hey, you summoned me. What did you even want, anyway? Pumpkin spice to be available year round? For the grocery store to accept your expired coupons? How about-"

"Now you listen to me young man," A third woman, dressed in sunny yellow and a high pony tail that did nothing to help her look younger. "You need to learn manners and your parents clearly didn't care to teach you"

("Ouch" danny mumbled, "accurate, but ouch" )

Yellow started chanting and the others quickly caught on and joined in. Danny, realizing that he was running out of time to gas light, gatekeep, or girlboss his way out of a solution, tried the old reliable Plan Z. Run away.

So he turned ghostly tail to the nearest window and - BONK! - was stopped by the shielding on the summoning circle. Which was a first. People usually forgot about that. Danny was now both impressed and worried as be felt both pressure and dread building around him as the chanting volume and speed.

Danny clutched his head as the pressure grew to a screeching point until everything released with a pop. The pressure was gone. The chanting was gone. Danny felt lighter, which was saying something given how gravity was typically just a suggestion while he was in ghost mode. Opening his eyes -and when had he closed them? - he noticed one more difference. Everyone had gotten bigger. And the furniture had gotten bigger. And the room had gotten…. uh oh. He had gotten smaller.

Danny was trying to orient himself and identify where an deep thudding was coming from when he was hit from the side. Foot steps. That's what the thudding was. They were just drastically louder when he was only tall enough to stare people in the shins. And the sidelong assault? A broom. Which connected a second time before he thought to go intangible. (Why did he always forget intangibility?)

The woman in white had gotten a broom and was swatting him towards the open patio door, her strappy white sandals stopping behind him and he frantically tried to coordinate his limbs in that same direction. His limbs did not want to coordinate but he eventually got himself out the door and the broom stopped swatting at him.

Once he cleared the threshold, the door rolled closed with a slam and the lock snicked shut.

"And don't come back unless you've learned respect!" was shouted at him from a nearby window before it, too was slammed shut.

Looking back into the house, he was met by his own reflection in the sliding glass door. "SQUAAAAAAK!"

======================================

In which Danny and Sam are traveling the US 90's road trip style to absorb the ecto of recent (or semi-recent) murders so Danny can get enough power to break the spell and transform back. The general hunter community is chasing a white crow and a witch to stop them from committing all these murders. And Sam and Dean and Bobby are trying to just figure out what's going on.

[virtu4l-archieve]

the dummies guide to hand-holding for buddies || minxyone93

audio length: 59 minutes

tags: 09x06, heaven can’t wait, canon divergence, fix-it, human!cas, platonic cuddling, hurt/comfort, resolved angst, no beta we die like sams wig

summary: while still dealing with the rejection of being kicked out of the bunker, cas is faced with an unbearable ache of loneliness. dean sees right through cas and he struggles with his own guilt of leading cas down this road. dean attempts to help cas to asylum through platonic physical affection.

i loved the angst in this fic. i think a lot about how dean kicked cas out when he was human. and as a first-tike human that must have been overwhelming and soul crushing for cas. it’s literally the only time he’s human in all ten seasons he’s in. dean’s guilt felt sincere. i can’t remember if dean ever apologized or admitted to feeling bad but i wouldn’t be shocked if he said nothing. the angst was perfect which built the best lead up for the fluff. they both just wanted to comfort the other after so long of hurting.

note: i’ve know about podfics for a long time already i just always found them super inconvenient since they’re kind of hard to find and listen to. that was until my smart little brain decided to check on spotify since audibooks are a thing on there now and idk maybe someone’s smart enough to upload there. and someone is- nerdynerdenstein has created a podcast making it up as we go they’ve got over 100 podfics so honestly i owe them my life and my first born.

ps~ the tag no beta we die like sams wig is underrated and needs to become mainstream.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

driving out into the sun (not gonna go down with my hometown in a tornado) (Supernatural finale fix-it)

Destiel. Supernatural finale fix-it. Crossposted on ao3. Title is from “I Know The End” by Phoebe Bridgers.

Fuck this.

Fuck no happy endings. Fuck dying without a cause. Fuck letting the Empty steal away the love of his life and Heaven stealing away the dreams that Dean has only let himself believe in since he met an angel and finally began to peel away the layers of self-doubt and self-sabotage that his father wrapped him in since before he could remember.

Dean's not a good man. He'd never pretend otherwise. He doesn't think he's capable of it, after everything he was made into by his father, after everything he's been, after everything he's done.

But he's okay with that. Good men go to heaven. Great men get remembered.

Men like him- broken, abused, ruined, dead, undead, alive, breathing, surviving men- get their own fate. They don't have heaven or hell. They have earth and all it has to give them.

And for the first time in Dean's life, he's not looking at the road. At least, not as his father did. Not as Dean did, for over twenty years.

The road is not heaven. The road is not the hunt. The road is not endless nights alone or hooking up with strangers, facing down death as everyone Dean has ever cared about or loved receives a tragic ending.

The road is just...there. A path. A choice. A possibility.

A fate that Dean gets to choose for himself.

And some parts of the road he still wants. He was named after Dean Moriarty, after all. The road is a part of his identity. Baby carries his soul- what's left of it- everywhere he goes.

But there are other parts of his identity. Bobby. Jody. Claire. Jack. Sam. Cas.

Cas.

If you had asked Dean twelve years ago (or dozens, or hundreds, or thousands, or whatever fucked up amount of time has truly passed in between countless deaths and trips to other dimensions and heaven and hell and possession and time and space and survival) what he thought he'd be doing in 2020, he probably wouldn't have said scooping up his brother and almost sister-in-law and his adopted son and asking said adopted son to carve them a way into the Empty. He can't find it in himself to care. His previous self needs to grow up and realize that cynicism and pessimism doesn't equal maturity. John Winchester was a shitty role model.

Cas is sitting on the ground, head in his knees, so impossibly, horribly still when they arrive, but his head snaps up the moment that Jack's sneaker hits the ground in the Empty. His blue eyes are wide and incredulous as Jack runs forward and engulfs his father in a hug. Cas, shellshocked, wraps his arms around Jack's shoulders in turn and squeezes tight, tucking Jack's head under his chin and closing his eyes, expression trembling as he reunites with his son.

Dean gives them a few minutes to reunite before speaking up. "So, Cas," He says, and he's trying to be gruff, trying not to overwhelm Cas, but his eyes are burning with tears and he's done trying to pretend like he doesn't care. Chuck's gone. Jack's god. Cas loves him like he loves Cas. "Glad to see you again." It's a pitiful greeting, considering everything that sits between them, but Dean can roll with it.

Cas' eyes snap open and he looks at him over Jack's shoulder. Swallows, adam's apple bobbing. Opens his mouth and then closes it. "You all came," he eventually says, and it somehow feels more question than statement.

Sam nods. "'Course we did. No leaving a brother behind."

Jack nods, too, hair scratching Cas' chin, but he doesn't mind, not if his fragile smile is any indication. "No use becoming God if I couldn't rescue you, Dad."

Cas rears back, eyes going wide. "You did what, Jack?"

Jack beams and holds out his hands. A glowing orb rises from his right palm before splitting itself into five smaller orbs that dance between his fingers, bright as his smile when someone hands him nougat. "I became God. Chuck was doing a bad job and you were a bit waylaid, so I took his place. And before you worry, Dean and Sam and Eileen and Rowena and Charlie and Anna and Bobby and Kevin and Adam and everyone else all agreed to help me out, give me advice and taking on some of the responsibility when needed." If possible, Jack's smile only grows brighter as he snaps his fingers, vanishing the orbs as he says: "The four of us can still make it to Kansas for Christmas if we want."

Cas' jaw drops. He knows as well as they do that most of those names are dead. "What do you mean...?"

"Turns out you can do a lot when you're God," Eileen signs, smile soft. "Including making one boy very, very happy by making him understand that he is very, very loved."

"And he's not the only one," Dean says, stepping forward. Cas' blue eyes focus on him, his expression almost terrifyingly tentative with hope. "You left before I could answer your question."

Cas' brow furrows in that adorable confusion of his. Dean's looking forward to learning as many ways as possible to soothe that wrinkle away- starting with kiss. "I don't remember asking a question."

"Then let me tell you something, Castiel," Dean says, and takes one last step forward and takes Cas' hand in his. "I'm not good with words, but you know that. You know me. And you love me. And I love you too. So if you don't mind, then...?"

If you had asked Dean twelve years ago how he would experience the first time he saw Castiel kiss someone, he probably would have laughed. Cas, kissing someone? Does he even know how to do that?

He definitely wouldn't have guessed that it would involve Cas leaning forward, grabbing the back of Dean's neck with a surprisingly soft yet strong palm, and pulling him in for a kiss. Dean goes gladly, savoring Cas' mouth on his, those lips that are shockingly warm for the unending, maddening neutrality of the Empty.

But life is full of surprises, and Dean has learned over the past few years that as long as said surprises don't involve monsters, demons, or an all-mighty writer who calls himself Chuck, he actually does enjoy a surprise or two.

After all, that's how he got the angel in front of him, isn't it?

Cas pulls back with a smile and a squeeze of their conjoined hands, and Dean can't help but mirror Cas' smile, lovely and loving and finally, wonderfully, his.

They get back into Baby to leave this wretched place. Sam, Eileen, and Jack cram into the backseat while Cas pulls shotgun, as he's meant to. Dean's not letting anyone take that from him ever again: him and Cas in the front seat, heading off on an adventure, details to be determined by them, for them.

"Where am I taking us?" Jack pipes up from the backseat, and Dean offers out his right hand across the console to Cas, who gazes at it in wonder for a second- thankfully no longer, as it probably would have started to feel a bit weird- before taking it in his with a squeeze.

"Where do you want, Cas?" Dean asks, voice as gentle as he can make it. He's not good at gentle, not good at tender, but he's willing to learn. He's willing to try. For Cas, for his family, for everyone who loved him and didn't hurt him.

Cas smiles at him, and this time, it isn't cautious. It isn't tentative. It is brilliant and unrestrained, just as Cas is meant to be. "Wherever you want, Jack."

Sam lets out a whoop from the back and Dean glances in the mirror to see his brother lean over and wrap a brotherly arm around Jack's shoulder as he gives Eileen a peck on the cheek. Eileen rolls her eyes but captures his lips for a quick kiss in return.

Dean pulls his and Cas' conjoined hands up far enough to flick on the radio. Dean grins as a trusty classic begins to pour from the radio, the familiar beat of "Carry On, My Wayward Son" filling the car with its joyous, wonderful sound.

The world isn't ending. Not anymore. Not for a very, very fucking long time.

He and Cas are finally free. They are going on the road. They are making their own world. They are making their own choices.

Dean refuses to accept anything less. They all- he, Cas, Sam, Jack, Eileen, everyone who they loved and lost- deserve, if not to be happy, then to at least heal and be allowed to make their own story outside of Chuck's.

Sam can go stay on the hunt or finally go finish his law degree. Charlie can get a girlfriend and take her to Comic-Con without fear of a monster attack. Jody and her wife can attend all of the science conventions and gun ranges with their girls as their hearts can possibly desire. Rowena can be Queen of Hell. Kevin Tran can reunite with his mother and go to college. Anna can try out truly being a human again. Adam can figure out what's going on with him and Michael. Bobby can run the salvage yard and hand out wisdom to all of the kids running around, from Jack to Kevin to Claire to all of the rest of Jody's girls.

Or not. Some of them might throw away their old paths for new ones. Maybe Bobby will start a restaurant. Maybe Anna will become an astronaut. Maybe Adam will start a hot sauce company. Maybe Jack, Claire, and Kevin will create a band. Maybe Charlie might start dating Rowena. Who knows and who cares? It's not Dean's place to decide.

All that matters to him is what he and Cas decide to do next- and that everyone's home for the holidays, so they can finally have the big, chaotic, messy, loud family dinner that will probably drive everyone insane. It's going to be horrible and wild and absolutely wonderful.

By God- or, rather, by Jack- Dean can't wait.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38980752

[mysticovo]

Alright, can I get a Dean Winchester x dead!reader for the angst?

They were looking for their father in the woods. You’ve known them for the last 5 years. It’s been a few weeks since they started this quest to find him after he went missing. I had caught feelings for him. I don’t know if he ever could’ve liked me back but if he did, he never showed it. I was talking with a few of the campers we had just met. Their bags had been torn while we were away. I was investigating them, trying to figure who or what could’ve done this. It might’ve been a bear.

“All right, listen up it’s time to go” Sam said while coming out of the woods,” Things have gotten more complicated.”

I looked up from where I was crouched. Standing up over the bags I walked over to him.

“What?” The lady inquired.

“Whatever’s out there, I think I can handle it.” Roy said.

“If you shoot this thing, you’re just gonna make it mad.” Sam chimed in looking up at the sky.

“We have to leave now” He exclaimed.

“One you’re talking nonsense, number two, you’re in no position to give anybody orders.” The graying man said.

”Relax,” Dean interrupted,” We never should have let you come out in the first place.”

“They’re just trying to protect you.” I sighed out.

“You protect me?” He said,” I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night.”

Sam and other man were now in each other faces.

“It’s a damn near perfect hunter. It’s smarter than you.” Sam said, while the other man looked around,” It’s gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get you out of here.”

The man laughed and shoved Sam.

“You know you’re crazy, right?” He laughed out.

“Yeah?” The brown haired man questioned,” You ever hunt a-“

“ Chill out .” Dean said while pulling his brother back.

“Stop it,” I yelled pushing my into the space between the group,” Everybody just stop.”

“Look Tommy might still be alive.” I said,” and we won’t leave here without him.”

Dean stared at me and then sighed looking down,” It’s getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night.”

“We’ll never beat it— not in the dark.” He explained,” We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”

“How?” The lady breathed out.

——————————

I sat next to Dean while he was talking/comforting Sam. We had just made a campfire. When he looked at me, I layed my head on his shoulder. I was about to fall asleep when suddenly a voice screamed help.

Dean brought me to feet and we all met up. The older man cocked his gun and Dean explained what the creature was trying to do. I’ve never heard anything in the animal kingdom that could do such a feat.

Something within was moving within the trees and growling as the voices got louder & more prominent. It didn’t sound like a bear or any animal that could live in the forest. What did the brothers know that I didn’t, what where they not telling me?

Suddenly Roy shot at the creature and ran into the woods. Dean, Sam and I all ran after the man. When out of nowhere picked Roy up from out of the trees and the I heard a bone cracking noise.

————————

The next morning we were mulling over the old man. Dean had explained to the lady that the beast was keeping somewhere dark, and safe. “We got to track it back there.” He said.

“And then how do we stop it?” The lady asked.

“ Well guns are useless — —so are knives.” He explained.

“Basically,” Dean walked around us in a circle before pulled out a Molotov cocktail,” We gotta torch this sucker.”

Then a roar raked through the forest. Dean and I went in one direction and everyone else went in the other. I thought about confessing now that we were alone but it felt like bad timing. I didn’t realize that I paused and Dean was already a few feet in front of me. I broke out of my daze when I heard my scream my name and run towards me.

Suddenly I was down on the ground and my vision blurring. I felt heat next to me. I could make Dean’s face out through the blotches of black. My ears were ringing. I felt the blood seeping into my clothes and onto the ground.

“______, no, no, no” Dean cried. I felt his tears hit my face. I felt tears coming out of my eyes. I was slowing losing feeling in my body. Dean grabbed my hand and I brought it to his face.

“Please don’t leave me I love you _____” He sobbed out,” I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“ I l-love you too Dean,” I choked out.

I leant up with my last bouts of my strength and kissed him. Then suddenly I lost all feeling in my body going limp. When everything went black all I heard was the sobs of the man I loved

The end

Sorry for the angst lol, I hope it was at least okay enough for you Classy Comics! d(￣ ￣) baiii!

[bigmilk-13]

did I accidentally (otherwise known as on purpose) connect not two but *three* different fandoms with one character because I was bored but the fact that they all make so much sense is terrifying and hilarious at the same time?

Mhm- think so.

(Fandoms are Alex Rider, Miraculous Ladybug and Gilmore Girls if you're curious)

(The character is Hermia Bourgeois if you're even more curious- Chloe's fifteen years older half-sister, mother is Helen Rider and father was André Bourgeois)

(If you are seriously so so SO curious... I'll make this a fanfic- maybe. Yeah.)

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Start of Chapter seven, “Sins of the flesh”

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1298315374-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-7-cherry-pie

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/110146278

----

Dean stood at the top of the church on October 26th, 2008, getting prepared for the day’s sermon as usual; he had been on edge for days, trying everything in his might not to call Castiel to make sure that he was okay.

Castiel was an angel, after all; a tricking, pie-stealing, trust-breaking, barbarous hedge-born joitheaded liar of an angel, that is, and Dean was sure he would be just fine without him or Sam nearby to help him. Flipping through his bible to some of the tabs he had out in his bible to be able to find what he wanted to say, Dean heard the front door of the church push open.

Listening closely, the eldest Winchester quickly realized that it was just his brother who had decided to show up a tad early for the sermon. Dean listened as his brother’s footsteps came closer and closer to him, stopping right beside him just as he found the page in his bible that he was searching for.

“What’s up, Sammy?” The priest asked, tilting his head slightly in his brother’s direction. “Cas asked if he could come to see your sermon, since he’s, uh, picking up his books later on,” Sam informed him, though it seemed by Sam’s hesitant that he already knew what the answer to that question was going to be.

“Tell Mr.Novak that there are other churches across town that he may enjoy more,” Dean hummed with a sarcastic smile, still feeling rather upset by the whole ordeal. “Dean, you can’t keep running from-” “Castiel can fuck off, okay, Sam?” Dean snapped, frowning as he pretended to flip pages in his bible again. “Now if you would excuse me, I have things to do, Sammy,”

Dean felt a little bad as Sam sighed and turned away, disappointment radiating over him as he dragged his feet and retreated back to the house. The man could hear the back door slam as he turned another page of his bible, and he tried to remind himself that Sammy was upset with him too and needed a way to express that without too many repercussions. Despite the guilt hanging over him, Dean quickly got the rest of his planning done and stood beside the door to begin greeting guests as they flooded in.

Most were old voices, people who has helped raise Dean and Sam and aid their father in learning how to raise two children on his own, people who had brought the young boys meals when they realized their father left them home alone, just in case they hadn’t eaten in a few days.

Despite this, there were one or two new voices who dropped by to check things out, one has just moved to the area and the other just trying to figure out their religion or what they did and did not believe in. In both cases, Dean welcomed them with open arms and greeted the rest of the usuals before making his way back up to the front to begin the sermon...

[codependentfreaks]

prompt requested by @zxrocide :

how about an angst post-jess's-death ficlet?

author's notes: I'm not great at angst but I'll try! Also please remember english is not my first language but I'm trying my best with what I know.

______________________________

Sam was lying on his bed again, taking a deep breath as he tried to dissipate the stress of the day. He couldn't help but think about what Dean had said when they parted ways again: "we made a hell of a team back there." And the did, Sam knew it. Him and Dean were always a great team, but also the worst possible one. Like a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

His thoughts about his conflicting feelings towards his brother were interrupted by a sudden drop of something wet on his forehead, one and then two times. He opened his eyes to check on it, just to be faced with the horrifying vision of his girlfriend bleeding on the ceiling. He screamed her name in horror as she started catching fire above him, stamping in his brain a imagine he would never get rid of. Sam kept screaming, watching in a masochistic way how Jessica burned, wanting nothing more than to burn with her, die with her.

"Sam..." she whispered and he felt the tears running down his face. "Why Sam?"

He frowned, still frozen in shock, unable to move.

"Why Sam? Sam..."

It was like her voice was floating in the room, sounding more and more distant as she repeated the words.

"Jess! I'm here... please!" he yelled, knowing it was useless. She was already dead... But why was she talking to him?

"Sam..." she repeated, but the sound coming from her mouth didn't sound like her. It was different, rougher.

"Sam..."

"Sam..."

"Sam..."

That voice. That new voice sounded so familiar. It sounded like Dean.

And then, Sam opened his eyes.

"Sam!" Dean was hovering above him, sitting by his side on the motel bed. "Dude, are you okay? You were freaking me out!"

He wasn't okay. His body was soaking wet with cold sweat and his throat hurts, probably from screaming in his sleep.

"I'm fine" he lied, still trying to catch his breath. "Sorry for waking you up"

"Yeah, I'm gonna start asking for financial compensation" Dean tried to joke, but the concern in his eyes and voice were too obvious for Sam not to notice. "It was the same nightmare as always? I mean, about that night?"

Sam nodded, running a hand though his face as he let out a shaky breath.

"It's okay, Sammy. You're okay" Dean finally surrended to his big brother instincts, deciding to stop pretending he wasn't worried. He brushed back Sam's messy, sweaty hair and the younger one flinched.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Dean's confused and hurt expression. His green eyes were really easy to read, and Sam knew Dean was questioning why his baby brother would back off from his touch.

Sam always felt weird about Dean, things one brother shouldn't feel about the other. His confusing and utterly wrong feelings were part of the reason he needed to get out and go to Stanford. Of course dad and the hunting life were also a big part of it, but Sam really needed to get away from Dean before he noticed his deviance. Part of him felt guilty everyday, like he was using Jessica, sleeping by her side while dreaming about his brother every night and missing him like crazy. Sometimes he feared that, deep down, he wanted her to die, specially after spending time with Dean hunting the woman in white. Of course he loved Jess, but who knows? Maybe he was just a bad person and some obscure part he can't really access is happy she's dead.

He really wish he could access that because missing her was killing him as much as Dean's touches and the feelings they brought.

Dean didn't say anything, he just got up and went to get a beer from the mini fridge. "Here" he handed it to Sam, who just thanked him awkwardky, unable to say he preferred a glass of water.

The younger man drunk his beer silently while pretending not to notice his brother's concerned stare. He wanted to apologize, say he didn't mean to flinch and ask, beg his brother to touch him again. Not only his hair, but his face, his lips his body.

God, he was disgusting. Sick. Jess deserved so much better than a pityful man who thought about kissing his own brother while still grieving her.

He hadn't even noticed he had finished his beer when Dean took it from him and put it on the counter. "You should try going back to sleep. Are you calmer now?", he asked, walking back to Sam's bed. When his brother nodded, Dean mirrored the movement and started going to his own bed.

"Wait-" Sam asked and Dean stopped, turning to look at him. "Stay with me until I fall asleep... please?"

Dean took some time to answer and Sam thought for a moment he was going to make fun of him, but looking in Dean's eyes he noticed he was wrong. The oldest finally smiled.

"Sure Sammy"

Sam smiled back, lying down on his bed again. He felt the bed shift with his brother's weight as he seated next to his head and stayed there. He almost could feel Dean's hesitation about trying to touch him again, so he slightly moved closer. It was such a small movement Dean would only notice it if we was really paying attention, and he always was. That's why the next moment Sam felt Dean's fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, Dean" he mumbled softly.

"Anytime"

[sylvanfreckles]

(Day 13: Forced to hurt a loved on)

Greater love has no one than this

“Dean,” Cas gently pushed him out to arm’s length. He was smiling. Here, in this dead-end room, with death literally knocking on the door, the angel looked the most content Dean had ever seen him. He looked…happy. “There is a way.”

Or: What if a different sacrifice was needed?

It's another S15E18 fix-it. Obviously "Hope" is a counter to "Despair", but I also took inspiration from the song "Hope is Rising" by Downhere. It's a song that's helped me through some tough times.

(Also, sometimes gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day)

[whxtedreams]

The Hardest Part is Who We Are - Master List

Summary

Fate had tangled us together, like branches in a flood, with the currents of our mutual emotions and experiences swirling around us

It was you, Dean and Annabel against the dying world. Then it was you and Annabel. Until it was you, Annabel and Tommy. Now it's just you and Tommy. And Joel?

Posted on AO3 and Tumblr

Pairing: Joel x You , Joel x Reader

Current tags:

Violence Canon-Typical // Violence // Blood // Blood and Injury // Hurt/Comfort // Mentions of Past Loss // Loss // Grief/Mourning // No use of y/n // Female Reader // Gunshot Wounds // Eventual Romance // Eventual Smut // Slow Burn // Additional Warnings In Chapter Summary // Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD // Rage / /Depression // No Beta // Religious Cults // Cults // Joel falls first // Age Difference // Reader is 36 // bisexual reader // Implied/Refrenced Suicide Attempt // Sharing a Bed // Grinding // Dirty Talk // Smut // thigh riding // Torture // Near Death Experiences // past abuse //

Master List - Ongoing Series

Current Word Count: 118k

** for smut

Chapter 1 - Sunshine // 8k

Chapter 2 - Die For Him // 12.4k

Chapter 3 - Unstable // 8k

Chapter 4 - Blood Upon The Snow // 12.5k

Chapter 5 - Beanies and Hunting... Cults? // 6.1k

Chapter 6 - Sting Like A Bee, Sweet as Honey // 8.6k

Chapter 7 - The Cabin // 7.7k

Chapter 8 - Please Don't Leave Me // 10.5k

Chapter 9 - The Miller Brothers // 7.6k

Chapter 10 - I Would Wait For Him // 11.8k

Chapter 11 - Heavenly, Sinful ** // 5.2k

Chapter 12 - He Would Wait For You // 10k

Chapter 13 - Sweet Dreams // 5k

Chapter 14 - Sunflowers, Sunflowers, Sunflowers // 4.2k

Chapter 15 - Coming soon

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Your House

The Jackson Cabin

[libraryofantiquitea]

𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬.

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: you have a meeting to attend via zoom when jake is leaving for work. he has interesting ways of saying goodbye.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! oral (female receiving), brief masturbation (male), semi-public sex.

word count: 3.4k

author's notes: no beta, we die like goose. thank you to the creator coven for giving me this plot bunny to turn into the beast that it became!

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

“Jake, honey! I have a video meeting in a couple of minutes!”

You liked to give your husband a heads up before you went into any meeting longer than half an hour whenever he was home. It had started in early 2020 when you were adjusting to working from home - everyone was - and Jake had kicked down the door of the spare bedroom slash office you were in, bare ass naked to retrieve some laundry. Thankfully your camera had been off, but it had the potential to not only get you fired, but cause an international incident.

“How long?” Jake asked, wandering from the kitchen and into the hallway, scarfing down half a sandwich.

You looked at your watch as you began to turn and head back to your office. “Um, an hour and a half?”

“I’ll be gone to work by then, I’m working the night shift at the base,” he said petulantly, shoulders slumping slightly. “I won’t see you until tomorrow morning.”

“I know, honey,” you said with a pout, turning back around and closing the distance between you. “I’m sorry. I tried to get it rescheduled, but the Dean was the one calling the shots on this one.”

Jake rolled his eyes, stuffing more of the sandwich in his mouth. “Well, I’ll pop in before I leave to say goodbye.”

“If you don’t I’ll be cross,” you said, wrapping your arms around Jake’s shoulders. You stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, not caring that he’d gotten mustard on you somehow.

—

“Mrs. Seresin, did you have any updates from your meetings?”

You’d been trying to pay attention, but your mind kept drifting. Any meeting over an hour seemed cruel, and in the afternoon you were less likely to be at your best. You were also well aware that Jake would be leaving any moment, listening to the sounds of him gathering up gear and packing his bag for the night.

The Dean of the department and you were on a first name basis, but everyone had been calling you Mrs. Seresin since the wedding, because you couldn’t stop giggling and blushing over it, this time it was no exception.

“I do,” you replied, reaching for your notebook and opening a document containing some agendas and meeting notes that lived on your computer. You filled the void by saying “um” a few times while you searched through your materials. “The Equity, Diversity, Inclusion and Accessibility Committee met earlier this week to provide some feedback on the proposal of launching the Employment Equity Plan. Everyone was in favour but they did have some questions about how comprehensive the plan was.”

There was a light rapping on the door, and you turned to look back at it before turning back the camera. “Just a moment. Jake’s off to work.”

“Take your time!” one of your colleagues said, as you turned off your camera and microphone.

“Come in!” you said to Jake, standing up at the same time to greet him at the door. 

Jake stepped in wearing his service khakis, and smiled at you. “Off to work I go, darlin’,” he said in a sing-song voice, wrapping his arms around you.

You hugged him tightly, turning your head to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll call before I go to bed?” you asked.

“Of course!” Jake replied, ducking his head down and kissing you sweetly. He pulled back, saying nothing, looking toward your desk. “That leg is gonna give out at any moment,” he declared.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you said, waving your hand. “I’ll fix it up later.”

“It’ll take me two seconds,” Jake said, relinquishing his hold on you and moving toward your desk before crawling under it. The space beneath your desk was certainly big enough to fit him, but you weren’t going to deny that he looked a little goofy crowded under there.

You smiled to yourself before getting situated back in your chair, turning on the camera and microphone on your laptop back on. Your colleagues were talking amongst themselves about the equity plan you had spoke of.

“Sorry about that,” you said, trying to get comfortable in your chair despite Jake futzing about with the leg of your desk. “Won’t see him until morning.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the Dean said, dismissively waving his hand. “Shall we get back into it?”

“Of course,” you replied, looking down to check your notes, catching a glimpse of Jake using a small screwdriver to tighten up one of the screws. Seriously, did he just carry that around in his pocket? “I wondered if we could bring forth a couple of goals to help us promote a representative workforce? I think that would grab peoples’ attention right off the bat.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” one of your colleagues said, just as Jake appeared to be finishing up.

You idly wondered how he planned to get out from under there, but figured you could just turn your camera off for a moment when he gave you the okay.

He did no such thing.

Clearing your throat, you looked through your notes once more and tried not to pay Jake any mind, who had situated himself between your legs. You had no idea what he was playing at, but did your best to ignore him.

“The first goal we drafted up was ‘to increase the recruitment of employees from equity-deserving groups,’” you continued, feeling one of Jake’s hands on your knee. “And the second was ‘To enhance the experience of current employees from equity-deserving groups.’”

“That committee of yours does some good work,” one of your colleagues chuckled. “Those are great!”

“Thank you,” you said, reminding yourself to breathe as if everything were normal as Jake’s other hand settled on your other knee. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to them.”

You turned your microphone off, and while still looking at the camera muttered, “Jacob Seresin, what on earth are you doing down there?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, the palms of his strong and calloused hands moving up your thighs. You pursed your lips tightly, trying to bring your legs close together on instinct, but Jake just pushed them further apart. “Keep your legs open, sweetheart.”

The conversation had moved on, and your colleagues were talking amongst themselves about the plan. Where you were the most junior staff person in the meeting, it was unlikely you would be contributing much to the bigger conversation, and for that you were thankful, because you certainly did not want to send your husband on his merry way.

“Jake,” you murmured, briefly closing your eyes and letting out a contented sigh. Though you knew it was gauche, you kept your eyes focused on the small image of yourself on your laptop screen. You knew how responsive you were, what sorts of things Jake did to you. The last thing that you wanted was for it to be extremely noticeable to your colleagues that there was something happening.

So, even though you wanted to be looking down under your desk, between your legs, you looked at yourself.

“God, I can smell you, darlin’,” Jake purred, pressing his face to the inside of one of your thighs. He inhaled sharply, and you made a small sound behind your mouth. “How wet are you?”

What a dick. He knew you couldn’t respond. You shifted a little in your chair, nodding along to the discussion in the meeting, even though you had no fuckin’ clue what they were discussing.

Suddenly, Jake’s face was pressed against your core. Your lips parted in a small gasp, but on screen it just looked like an ordinary sigh. “Soaked,” Jake murmured, and you could feel the vibrations of his voice against you through the layers of fabric that separated the two of you. “Oh my god, baby girl. I could taste you just like this.”

“Any thoughts?”

Fuck.

You turned your microphone back on. “Um,” you stuttered, shifting your hips slightly when you felt Jake’s fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings. “I thought we agreed on seven priorities instead of six. I believe it was Don who alluded to ‘lucky number seven.’”

“You know what? You’re right! Do you remember what the seventh priority was?”

“Recognition.”

When there were no follow up questions, you turned your microphone back off.

Jake’s fingertips brushed along your skin as he pulled your leggings down your legs. You raised your eyebrows at the screen, pretending to be engaged, meanwhile you were suddenly pantsless in front of the team you reported to.

“Oh my god, baby girl,” Jake murmured reverently, and you swallowed hard as Jake’s fingers traced over the edges of your labia through your underwear. As he had observed before, you were already wet, and the sensation of him touching you had you briefly closing your eyes. The drag of the wet fabric against your clit, Jake’s thick fingers pressing against you, had you rolling your hips toward his touch.

The Dean said your name. “Does the Office of Equity and Inclusion being the lead to ensure clarity, confidentiality and transparency make sense to you?”

You begrudgingly turned your microphone back on. “Oh … yes. That, um, seems like an appropriate office to take the lead on that.”

God, you wished the Dean and the rest of your colleagues would just stop asking you for input. Compared to everyone else in the meeting you made significantly less money and had significantly less say in the operations of the university. Then again, they were likely trying to make a point about the whole equity plan by including you.

“You sound so wrecked,” Jake murmured, rubbing your clit through your wet underwear. You whined and lifted your hips toward your touch. “They probably can’t tell, but I can.”

Panicked, you checked to make sure you’d turned your microphone off - you hadn’t. You hoped to any deity that would listen that no one had heard that as you turned your mic back off.

“Jake,” you whispered, trying not to move your lips, “please.”

“Please what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, as his fingers pressed your entrance, digits wrapped in your wet underwear plunging gently into you. “Stop? Keep going?”

“You asshole,” you murmured good naturedly. “Keep - keep going.”

“Mrs. Seresin, you had something to contribute?”

Fuck.

You began to speak, only to have three different people let you know that your mic was turned off. “I, uh, just wanted to double check by what percentage we wanted to reduce our overall workforce analysis gap by?”

“Eighty percent.”

“Thank you!”

While you had been speaking, Jake had pulled your underwear off, grabbing your legs and pulling them over his shoulders. On camera, it looked like you had shifted and sat back a little in your chair. It wasn’t … inaccurate. This time you triple checked that your microphone was off.

“God, look at that sweet little pussy, darlin’,” Jake groaned. You could feel his warm breath against your clit, and swallowed hard. “I can’t wait to put my mouth on it, to taste you.”

You bit at your lip, and keeping your eyes on yourself, attempted to deduce what it would look like if you fisted Jake’s hair in your hand. Unfortunately, it would definitely look like your hand moved between your legs, so you opted to keep your hands above your desk, much to your dismay. You wanted to feel Jake’s soft blond hair through your fingers, pull on it gently, command him closer to your cunt.

Despite Jake’s declarations of wanting to put his mouth on you, you felt his fingers once more. You gasped, hoping it looked like a yawn on camera, rolling your hips into Jake’s touch.

“Jake,” you whined - carefully - hoping that you wouldn’t be asked to speak, or what your thoughts were, again. “Please. Put your mouth on me.”

“Darlin’, you sound so pretty when you’re begging,” Jake hummed, pressing his mouth where your thigh met your loins. “Maybe I want to hear it some more?”

He was not being fair and it drove you mad, but you wouldn’t want him to change.

On your laptop screen, the Dean and your colleagues were in a deep discussion about the second pillar of the plan, inclusive excellence actions,. And while you had been looking forward to this discussion, it paled in comparison to giving your full, undivided attention to your husband, on his knees between your legs, mouth so close to your pussy, strong and calloused palms alternating between moving over your thighs and calves.

“You’re - you’re going to be late,” you attempted to rationalize. God, you wanted him to draw this out, but you also didn’t want him to get in trouble.

“Beg.”

A shiver ran down along your spine; you knew that was his lieutenant voice. You might have come right then and there if you hadn’t been looking forward to his mouth on you so much.

You made sure to watch yourself on screen, you couldn’t let others know how absolutely wrecked you were.

“Honey, please,” you purred, in a voice that you knew slid over Jake like silk. “I need your mouth on me baby. Fuck, you make me feel so good. Put your tongue in my pussy. Please. I need to feel you, and I know you want to taste it.”

“Mrs. Seresin?”

You really wished you could just leave the meeting and that the Dean would stop jokingly calling you that. You could feel Jake’s wide smile, full of teeth, against your skin, everytime he was reminded that you were his.

“Your microphone is off.”

Your hand was trembling as you reached for your mouse, moving the cursor to turn the mic back on. “Sorry,” you apologized, and holy fuck did your voice ever sound strangled. “Talking to myself mostly.”

The Dean laughed. “Quite all right!”

You turned your microphone off, and that was when Jake’s tongue began to move along your lips. Inhaling sharply, you balled your fingers into a fist, dragging them against your desk.

“Jake,” you whined, letting your eyelids slip closed.

“I think you’ve earned this,” he murmured, the audible sound of his swallowing down your juices far too much to bear. Your hips undulated toward him, and he chuckled softly. “Such a good girl.”

He was sucking your clit gently into his mouth, hauling you closer to his face. You gasped, reaching down and gripping the bottom of your desk chair. It was difficult when your focus was drifting between Jake’s mouth on you, and watching yourself on screen to ensure that it didn’t look like what was happening, was in fact, happening.

You bit down on your lip repeatedly, as Jake’s tongue rolled over your clit before descending lower. Slowly, wetly, he licked his way into you. Moaning against your tightly pursed lips, you arched off your chair, wanting more of him inside of you. The tip of his tongue licked against your walls, and he groaned like it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

If you asked him, he would say that it was.

You could feel him shift, and without even looking you could tell that he was rubbing himself through his trousers. There wouldn’t be enough time for him to get changed, and you were certain his other tans were in a laundry basket somewhere.

Jake pulled his tongue from you, and you mourned the loss pathetically, whining and trying to chase his mouth. He placated you by slowly pressing one finger inside of you, as his tongue laved over your clit.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he hummed against you. You risked a look down, and holy fuck, you’d never seen a sight so gorgeous. Jake’s mouth on your pussy, his bright green eyes looking up at you. “My mouth, my fingers, my cock. So hungry for it all.”

Tightly closing your eyes, you reached for your phone, and thumbed at it to make it look like you were checking your messages, when really you were snapping a quick photo of Jake - eyes bright, tongue licking along your folds, open palm rubbing at his crotch.

“They’re gonna want to talk to me soon,” you murmured, setting your phone down, fingers flexing against your desk. “Please … make me come. Let me come.”

“God, darlin’.”

Jake wrapped his arms around your thighs, hauled you closer, mouth on a mission. You gasped as he sucked your clit gently into his mouth, and then pressed two of his long, thick fingers inside of you. You chanced a glance down at him again, and god, even he looked like he was beginning to come apart at the seams.

Your eyes quickly lifted back to your screen. You didn’t look too fucked out, but you didn’t look like you probably should have in a meeting. You hoped that it was subtle enough that no one else could notice.

As if on cue, your supervisor asked for your input.

“Um,” you choked out, fingers reaching for the edge of the desk. Oh god, Jake’s tongue was flat against your clit, and his fingers were pumping in and out of you just like he fucked. His fingers weren’t as thick as his cock, but they were still his, and he still knew how to stretch you open slowly, perfectly. “Can you, uh, remind me where - jeez - where we are?”

“The third priority, recruitment.”

Briefly, you hung your head, trying to compose yourself. You could feel the pressure beginning to build at the base of your spine. Jake’s tongue moved inside of you, along his fingers. Oh my god, you were going to come. He was going to make you come on camera. You could see the mischievous twinkle in Jake’s eyes even if you couldn’t see it.

“Right, recruitment,” you repeated, unable to keep yourself from rolling your hips. You wanted to fuck Jake’s face so badly as he brought you to the edge, but there was no way. As if sensing your dilemma, Jake’s free hand gripped your hip and pinned you to the chair. 

You chose to ignore the concerned look on one of your colleague’s faces. “You had some really great wording for the fifth action in a call that we had, but I’m afraid I didn’t capture it. Would you mind repeating it?”

Yes, I fucking mind!

Jake was relentless. You couldn’t move, all eyes were on you. Trembling, you reached for your notebook to flip to the page with relevant notes. Nails scraped against the edge of the desk, as Jake whispered below, “C’mon, darlin’. Be a good girl. Come - come on me. I want to taste you. Baby, let me taste you.”

He was begging you now.

“Tha - thank you,” you stuttered, knuckles turning white as you continued to grip the edge of your desk. “What I had suggested was ‘Develop and - ha - facilitate a specialized candidate caaaaare program aimed at - ohgod - empowering and supporting equity-deserving job seekers naaaaavigating the employment process.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine!” you replied quickly, as Jake crooked his fingers inside of you. “I think I have to sneeze. Be right back!”

You turned both your microphone and your camera off, ignoring the concerned looks from your coworkers.

“Jake!” you cried, head thrown back as you moved your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers, chasing his tongue. “Honey please. Please!”

You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling hard, and he lifted his gaze to yours. You came with a shout, pressing down against Jake’s fingers and face so hard that his knuckles brushed your entrance, that you were positive he wouldn’t be able to get the scent of you out of his nostrils all day. Jake groaned against you, lapping up every bit of your slick. When he eventually pulled away, he licked his fingers before slowly standing up. You grabbed at his wrist, pulling his hand toward your face. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, and fucked your face slowly.

“Baby,” you hummed, leaning into his touch against your face. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, and you looked up at him. “Baby, what about you?”

“I get home at six am tomorrow,” he purred.

Your eyes lit up, knowing what kind of mood he would be in after enduring the desperation of needing release all night. “I’ll be waiting.”

/end. 

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter's ficrec Fridays

Back for my second week of fics I've read and loved recently, as well as a couple of throw backs. If you missed last week's you can find it here for more!

12 January 2024

Altitude by enochianprayer (@chapeldean, art by @hornystiel here and @naughtystiel here) is a wintery delight, in which Dean is a seasonal worker in a mountain lodge and Castiel is a hiker who's passing through. Enchanted by their brief encounter with each other, Dean can't get Cas out of his head, and Cas' questioning leads him to find something holy in the revelations he stumbles upon at the lodge. Sweet and romantic, wild and wandering, cosy and brave.

boy leave your boots by the bed by an_ardent_rain (@alulangel) is a post-canon fix it, a smutty cowboy kink (shh yes this WILL be a recurring theme on my rec lists), wish fulfilment fic for the spn bang bang with one of my favourite tropes of Dean and Cas going on little dates without really realising they're going on little dates, whilst pining. Plus absolutely wonderful banter:

Cas squints and ignores that.  “Technically, you could say that this heaven is still ‘in beta’ now,” he says, and he uses the air quotes and it’s so adorable Dean bites the swell of a bottom lip to hold in a fond smile.  Cas is, as always, a giant dork.  “But we are soliciting feedback.”

“Yeah, you got a heavenly suggestion box?  Hotline for complaints?  Five stars, would die and spend eternity here again?”

“There are… more than five stars, Dean.”

Sweet Science by emmbrancsxx0, (@valleydean) is now complete, a 12 days of smutmas challenge continuation to the incredible destiel 1930s boxing au Heavyweight. Cas and Dean are on a romantic winter retreat to get out of the spotlight against the backdrop of the burgeoning economic depression in New York, both seeing the boxing world become harder to maintain a living. With Cas secretly planning to retire, and not yet letting on to Dean, can they navigate their future whilst still maintaining their hard fought for trust? I love these guys so much and am so glad to be back in their world.

The Root of this Love by kathscradle is for all the bearded!Misha fans. May he have survived the acrylic paint incident. The very short and sweet and sexy premise: Cas is hairy, now that he’s human. Dean can’t get a grip on himself. (But he sure can get a grip on Cas!) Smutty body hair celebration and body worship.

Just Being and Just Having by Englandwouldfall is the post-canon fic series I drop everything to read every time there's a new update. It delves so incredibly beautifully into Dean and Cas' history of miscommunication and gives them the chance to truly talk things out, finding themselves falling more deeply in love as they do so and understand their own mistakes but also what makes them work so well together when they're no longer under Chuck's thumb. Each chapter feels like therapy and a brain and heart massage! Two chapters left to go of Just Having, dive in now so you can lose your mind with me when it's complete.

Solitudes by ilovehowyouletmefall (@angelinthefire, art by @hawkland) is set in season 12 after Cas is nearly killed by Ramiel. Dean is close to acknowledging his feelings, whilst Cas is weighed down by the responsibility to find Kelly, but he agrees to help out on one more hunt before he leaves. Trapped, they encounter a monster which makes both of their nightmares come true...or so they think. Witnessing each other's despair, this is a haunting and genuinely creepy story that will make your heart ache.

[destielsuperfan]

Happy Birthday Y’a Old Man!

Summary - Dean reaches 45 years of life, and lets himself reflect on the significant birthdays leading up to this one.

Word Count - 2024 (so proud of myself - I did this on purpose)

Rating - General Audiences

Pairings - Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags - Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Happy Dean Winchester, Dean’s Birthday Bash, they get the ending they deserve, Post-Season/Series 15, Bad Parent John Winchester, no beta - we die like everyone on this show for some reason, Domestic Fluff

Authors Note -

hey everyone - this is just a small fic I wrote to celebrate Dean’s b-day. it’s also my submission for #DeansBirthdayBash by @chocolatecakecas. as we all know, Dean’s a special and lovable character (and I love how our birthdays are just five days apart) so I wanted to do something small.

enjoy!!!

[noxemma]

Suptober 2023 - Day 12: Swap-Meat

Right Phone, Wrong Brother

Word Count: 1,252

Rating: General

Tags: Body Swap, Idiots in Love, Accidental Confession, Whoops that's not Sam, Dean Winchester uses his words, or he tries at least, Fluff, Suptober 2023 (Supernatural), no beta we die like men

Summary: Cas calls Sam for advice, but, due to a witch's spell, gets the wrong brother.

[lunaroserites]

The Moon and Stars

Word count: 1439

Requested: No

Pairing: Castiel x fem!reader

Additional character: Dean, Sam and Bobby

Warnings: Marriage, fluff, cuteness. Not beta read, we die like Supernatural Characters.

Plot; Castiel and his fiancé get married.

The stars hung low in the dusk sky as it became just dark enough for them to be visible. They stood with Bobby and the Winchesters on top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. You could hear the waves as they splashed against the rock below, a soft breeze drifted through the pine trees behind them. It was peaceful. 

Sammy had a small portable music player set up with Hozier’s Like Real People Do playing quietly in the background. Bobby held an old, worn, but well loved bible in one hand, wiped a stray tear with the other. The brothers wore button ups rolled to their elbows and nice slacks, a bottle of beer held in their hand. 

The Impala was parked a little away from them, the headlights providing a small amount of extra light in the dusk.

She wore an elegant dress, it was white with lace stars and moons embroidered all over it, it was floor length and pooled at her feet, a slit ran from the bottom of the skirt to mid thigh. She wore a veil adorned with delicate pearls, and embroidered with stars and moons, matching the bodice and skirt of her dress. Her finger lay bare waiting for the ring that she had worn everyday to be placed back during an exchange of heartfelt words. She gazed up at him through the veil, it did little to obstruct her view of him. 

He wore his usual trench coat over a black suit, it was new and well tailored. The Winchesters had taken him to a local shop in town and for the first time he picked out something of his own. A tie pin of a silver moon and star, matching her dress clipped delicately to his tie, he had specially made, with the help of Dean of course, the internet was still lost on him most days. He matched her gaze, she looked utterly magically in her dress, everything picked out and placed in deliberate manner. 

Dean, Sam and himself had arrived at the lookout spot prior to her and Bobby. Bobby insisted that if they were doing this, they were doing it right. If his (adoptive) little girl was getting married he would be damned before she was married in some janky drive thru chapel, wearing greasy jeans and one of Dean’s band tees. Sure this may not be official in the eyes of the government, but in the eyes of heaven it was as official as it could get. 

He was not an emotional man by any standards, usually stoic and hard faced. She had never seen him this emotional before, when she walked out of her room asking him to zip her dress up he couldn’t help but shed a few tears. She was stunning in her dress, it was as if it was crafted for her and her alone. But all he could see was the little girl she once was standing in the center of pooling fabric saying “daddy, zip my dress up please.” Once it was zipped up and she spun around with a bright smile, taking the skirt in her hands and swaying it. “How do I look dad?” He choked a cry back and gave her his best smile. 

“Like an Angel, baby,” he had pulled her into a tight hug, she let a few tears fall into his shoulder. He helped her into his truck making sure her dress was safely tucked into the cab. The drive was quiet, something she was grateful for because it gave her time to calm her nerves. Once at the lookout, Bobby helped her step down from the cab, and walked with her on his arm making sure she wouldn’t trip on the uneven terrain.

Dean nudged Castiel when he noticed Bobby and her approaching, he turned slowly. Once fully facing the two approaching he finally looked at her, the dusk sky making her white dress stand out. She was beautiful, he choked on air looking at her stunning beauty. She made Angel’s grace look dull. Dean let out a low whistle and Sam gasped. The two had never seen her dolled up this before. She grew up alongside the brothers, she was rough and tumble with a side Singer sass, even if she wasn’t one by blood. 

Bobby spoke softly, reading a couple verses from the bible in his hands. His voice was rough, from the unshed tears. She stared into his eyes, listening to the soft chorus of their song as it melded with Bobby’s voice. He spoke so soundly, speaking to her, him and the night. They had prepared a few worlds for each other to exchange before they placed rings on each other and sealed the deal with the all important kiss.  

Castiel started, “In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and I will not abandon you. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not flinch. Your love is the light by which my soul follows. You are my sun, my moon, and my stars. I may never find words beautiful enough to describe all that you mean to me, but I will spend the rest of our time searching for them. With this ring, I am bound to you, mind, body, and soul.” He slid the ring onto her awaiting finger. It was a three part ring, the center ring was a moon stone with three crescent moons around it and smaller stones filling the space, the second sat underneath it, 7 little stones creating a ‘V’ shape. The third and final piece was two wings wrapped around both of the other rings. Castiel had it made custom for her, he poured all his love into the design. When it arrived 18 months ago he had been on a hunt with the brothers, one she skipped out on because she wasn’t feeling well. When he got back to the bunker and she mentioned a package he feared she knew what it was. His fear was for not as she had just laid the small shipping box on his side of the bed undisturbed. 

“If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you. Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creature there is a pulse that echoes of you and I. Till death do us part, they say. I say, I will love you till this life to the next. And if the next life won’t grace me with you, I will still love you till the next one, and the next, the next. Till death finally gives up on us,” her voice wavered slightly, the weight of her words and how she felt crashed like the waves, she loved him so deeply. “With every fiber of my soul I will love, cherish and care for you. For you are the moon, the stars and the sun in my soul.” With trembling fingers she slid the matching white gold ring on his finger, it had an engraving of their names in Enochian on the inside band, and etchings of angel wings with little stars dotted on the outside. A custom piece made by the same person who made her rings. It wasn’t planned that way, but it was a happy coincidence when the seller messaged her asking about the ring she wore. 

Bobby spoke a few more words and announced they were husband and wife, and he may kiss the bride. Castiel’s hands found the tull of her veil and lifted it gently over her head, not to disturb her hair, or damage the veil. He placed it down once her face was fully uncovered and looked down into her eyes, his own eyes pouring every ounce of love into hers. His water line had unshed, happy tears. He cupped her face in his hands and poured his soul into the kiss, her cheeks wetted from his now spilled tears. She wrapped arms around his neck and pressed close to him. 

Sam, Dean and Bobby all clapped their hands hollered. Castiel pulled back from the shared moment and rubbed his nose to hers lovingly. 

“Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, We should just kiss like real people do,” the song closed on them, it had been playing over and over through the whole ceremony. Castiel put his lips to hers once more. 

[fandom-eater67]

Seeing "no beta we die like cas/dean winchester" tags on fics always feel like a punch to the face because I'm so used to them coming back/ there being an afterlife we see them in that it feels like they aren't really gone.

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Start of Chapter 8, “Sins of the flesh”

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1359337904-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-8-raised-once-more Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/121978735 ----

Tension hung heavy in the air as Dean and Sam ate their breakfast of homemade pancakes and breakfast sausage; vegan breakfast sausage, in Sam’s case. Although Castiel found no reason to eat anymore as he didn’t have to pretend to be able to taste it, he still insisted on sitting with them.

Dean chewed slowly and methodically, eliciting high levels of nervosity in both the angel and his brother who sat nearby. Their forks and knives clinked against their plates, the light tapping and scratching sounding all too loud in a space that had once been constantly filled with noise when the three of them were together.

“So, erm… I’ve found a case for you two,” Sammy told them cautiously as he pulled a file off his lap and sat it down on the breakfast table, breaking the extremely awkward silence.

“For ‘us two’? What, you’re not coming on the first hunt we’ve had since Cas got back?” Dean asked, lowering his fork and knife to rest on his plate. “No, I need a break the hunts,” Sam told his brother truthfully as he took a breath followed by a bite of his pancakes.

“Have there been any reports on this case?” Castiel questioned as he put down the day’s newspaper dated December 17th, 2008. He took the file and opened it, watching uninterestedly as a map and a few pages slipped out of it.

“Yeah; a handful of people have gone missing in Virginia, in the Shenandoah national park,” Sam told them, watching as Castiel placed five pages in a line, each a different missing person’s report.

“Isabella Morake, Catherine Hilltower, Elizabeth Chinadora, Maxwell Carlem and Stephen Mystarn had all gone missing within two months of each other around the same area; each had been travelling in a group of two to three people when their teammates called the police to report that they had heard screams from the woods. There was blood splattered on the ground and on trees near where they had heard the yelling coming from,” Sam explained moving his hands in explicative motions as he spoke.

“Each scene had claw marks in the dirt, leading any police on the investigations to assume that they were bear attacks and the victims must have upset the bear or bears in some way.” The younger Winchester finished, waiting for Castiel to stop reading the file and reports.

“Five bear attacks in the same area at the beginning of winter? That’s ridiculous,” Dean muttered as he picked his fork and knife back up and stuffed a sausage in his face, chewing slowly to avoid having to speak again.

“Exactly why I think it’s something else; a wendigo, maybe? It matches up; seasons might be a little weird, but it’s possible it’s just stocking up on a bit more food before winter comes,” Sam suggested as he gently pushed his plate away, no longer feeling hungry enough to continue eating.