#but he also definitely looks like he instantly falls for Castiel

[asirensrage]

Caught in the Crossfire - 3/53

Title: Caught in the Crossfire Rating: M Pairings: Michelle (OC) x Sam side pairing: Kelly (OC) x Dean Fandom: Supernatural. Includes characters from BtvS, The Darkest Powers Series by Kelley Armstrong, True Blood, Veronica Mars, X-Men, Harry Potter Warnings: PTSD, trauma, violence, murder, loss of time, demonic possession, mentions of starvation, anger, slow burn, learning to fight and survive Summary: Takes place during s5. Michelle was just trying to gain some semblance of normality. She didn’t expect to be a part of a fail-safe for the apocalypse. Reuniting with her best friend who should be dead, she struggles with trying to survive this world while being forced into a position that has her taking care of others who also don’t belong. She just wants to go home.

Notes: and we're back to Michelle's POV

also on ffn and ao3

Chapter 3: Balance and Solidarity

You get nothin' for nothin' Tell me who can you trust - If You Want Blood (You Got It) by AC/DC

   I woke up slowly. It felt like I had slept for weeks. My head felt groggy. My eyes felt like they were sealed shut. I rubbed them hard to get them open. I was lying on the cot in the panic room. It was still real. It wasn’t a dream. 

     I sat up slowly. Despite not feeling anywhere near awake, I felt okay. I didn’t feel like everything hurt, or that I was suffering from starvation. It was odd. I stood up and I didn’t feel like I was going to fall. 

     I looked around the room. The cold iron was comfortable to have around me, but I headed to the door. I needed to figure out what was happening. I needed to find Kelly.

     The door was open. The basement was ominous when it was empty. I headed up the stairs. When I got to the top, I paused. Kelly was coming in the back door with Dean following her. 

     “Kels?” 

     She grinned at me. “Mish!” She walked up to me. I hugged her tightly. I felt her stiffen before she hugged me back. “This is weird,” she muttered. 

     “I wasn’t sure you were real,” I said. “I thought I was dreaming.”

     “Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered. “We’re okay. We gotta whole lot of weird to deal with, but we’re okay.” 

     I let go and pulled back. “What happened?” 

     “You’ve been asleep for two days. Castiel knocked you out.” She looked back at Dean.

     “He healed you,” Dean said. “Least, physically.” I nodded. That explained how I felt okay, at least, to a point. 

     “Hey, not to like...push things,” Kelly said, looking over at Dean. “But we kind of need a huge favour. I smell. Jane smells. Mish...definitely smells.”  I went to protest then stopped myself. She wasn’t wrong. “We need to go shopping for essentials. I don’t know about them, but I didn’t need to change as a ghost. Pretty sure that Jane stole the clothes she’s wearing.” Kelly looked at me.

     “I didn’t have time to grab anything. I left with what I had,” I tried not to think about the diner and how I only had time to run. 

     “We’ll...also need to use your credit cards.” 

     “Right,” Dean said. He looked both of us over before he nodded. “I’ll grab Sam. Find Jane and meet us at the car.” 

     My eyes widened and I looked at Kelly. “ The car?” 

     “Oh god,” Kelly muttered. She looked at Dean. “Now you’ve done it.” She turned back to me. “Best friend comes back from the dead, you’re merely happy. Get to ride in the Impala? Exuberant. I see where I stand.” I hit her, smacking her shoulder with my hand. It felt instantly like she had never left. My throat tightened, remembering what it was like when she died. 

     “Five minutes!” I jumped at Dean’s voice as he moved past us. 

     “Mish, you’re starting to scare them.” 

     I jolted out of my staring. “Sorry,” I muttered. The car was beautiful. It was pretty much exactly what it looked like in the show. I stepped forward. Both the men were watching. “I’m sorry,” I said louder. “It’s just...it’s a beautiful car.” 

     Dean grinned and nodded. “Damn right she is. Get in.” 

     Sam opened the back passenger door. Jane entered first, looking around the car slowly. I went next and Kelly came in after me. I looked around. The leather bench seats felt real and there were some wrappers on the floor. I couldn’t stop my excitement. It still felt surreal but for a second, it was almost like I could forget everything that brought me here. I leaned over the front seat as the boys got in. 

     “Dean! Can you play AC/DC and blast it?” I asked. I heard Sam groan but Dean gave a small laugh and popped in a tape. The sound of TNT came on and I started to sing along. 

     “I thought you were terrible at staying awake in cars?” Kelly half yelled. She had never been a fan of loud music. 

     “I am!” I yelled back. She sighed, closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. The music would help keep me awake. 

     Jane leaned over from next to me. “I do not understand your affection for this noise.” 

     “It’s not noise,” I said. “It’s music. Good music.” 

     “Hell yeah!” Dean said up at the front, banging his hands against the steering wheel to the beat. The music continued without further protest. After a few songs, the car finally slowed to a stop. We were in front of a Walmart. 

     “We’re here.” Sam turned to face us. “Go in, get what you need and we’ll call you. Here.” He started to hand a cellphone to Jane before he realized who it was and gave it to me. “Take my cell. We’ll be back in a bit to pay for everything.” 

     Kelly opened her eyes and sat up. “You aren’t coming in?” I paused. I hadn’t considered that. I looked out the window. There were people in there. People who didn’t know about the truth of this world, people who could be things that weren’t human. 

     “You need us to hold your hands?” Dean looked over the seat. “Unless you’re planning on running off, you don’t need us standing ‘round while you shop. We’re going for food. We’ll be back in half an hour. If anyone else but me calls, you don’t answer.” He pointed at me. I nodded automatically. “Now go!” 

     Kelly turned and opened the door. I didn’t move. There was so much that could go wrong. Jane pushed on my back. I went out slowly. 

     The boys drove off and I stared at the store, instantly regretting coming. I should have just told them to buy me things and to guess at the size. There were too many people here.

     “Hey,” I looked over at Kelly. “It’ll be okay.”

     “Yeah,” I said. I didn’t tell her that the thought of going in there, being surrounded by people who could be anything, was making my heart pound and my palms sweat. “Let’s get this over with quickly.” 

     I stared at the mirror. It was odd looking at myself. My brown hair fell limp against my head.  My cheeks were a little sunken. I used to think my eyes were my best feature. Now they just looked haunted. 

     Nothing fit. Not like it was supposed to. I had never been thin back home, but the stress of this world had played havoc on me. I used to wear a large in shirts because of my stomach and chest. Now it felt too big. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the size of my feet. 

    “Michelle?” I jumped slightly at Kelly’s voice. I hadn’t wanted either of them out of sight, but that didn’t work when it came to trying on clothes. “You done?”

     “Yeah,” I opened the change room door. “I need new sizes though.”

     “In what?”

     “Everything.”

     “Really?” she looked me up and down. “Well, I guess you are thinner. Come on,” she said. “I need you to help me convince Jane to wear a bra.”  

     “What?”

     “She says, and I quote, the contraptions are confusing and a binding is easier.”

     “Where is she now?” I asked.

     “At the knives. She tried stuff on and once it fit, she left it in my basket. She’s still wearing the bindings but I took the bras in her size and added it to the stuff.” Kelly motioned to a cart she had next to her. “Come on, let’s grab the sizes you need and find her before the boys call. She’s demanding we grab work out clothes or clothes you can move freely in.”

     “What? Why?”

     “Hell if I know!” Kelly raised her hands in the air and then dropped them. She looked frustrated, which was understandable. “Come on, we also need essentials. Like toothbrushes and deodorant. Don’t tell the guys but I’ve been using whoever’s deodorant is in the bathroom. I smell like a dude.”

     “It’s probably Bobby’s…” 

     “Eh…” she shrugged. “Then he’s even less likely to know or complain. Come on, maybe we can freak the guys out and buy a ton of tampons. After all we are three girls and it's bound to happen eventually.”

     By the time the boys had called and found us, we were ready to go.

     “You sure you got everything?” Dean asked, looking at the full cart. “You don’t need more? Like the kitchen sink?”

     “What’d you expect with three women who literally only have the clothes on their backs?” Kelly said.

     “You guys didn’t even get coats,” he said, peering into the cart. 

     “We got coats. And layers.” She pulled out one of the thin coats we had grabbed. It was more of a fall type of coat. 

     “It’s freaking freezing outside and you’re telling me you just got that?” 

     Kelly and I both looked at each other.

     “It’s not that cold?” I phrased it like a question even if I didn’t mean it that way. 

     “It’s twenty degrees!” Dean looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

     I frowned. “What? It’s not hot out.”

     “He means Fahrenheit,” Kelly said leaning towards me. “It’s like...maybe minus ten?”

     “Dean,” Sam said. The cashiers were watching us now. “They’re Canadian, remember?” 

     “Yeah,” Kelly said. “This isn’t cold. I mean, it’s cold, but it’s not fuck my face cold.”

     “Oh yeah,” I said. “Now that’s cold.” Both the boys stared at us in shock. 

      “Don’t worry, if we need to, I’m sure we can come back, right?” she grinned at him, “this is a relationship I could get used to.”

     Dean turned away, grumbling under his breath as the cashier rang everything up. I would have felt bad if I hadn’t known they were using a credit card with a fake name. There was no plan to actually pay for any of this. 

     The cashier was flirting with Dean while giving us dismissive once overs. Everyone in the store had given us looks, though not as much as they would have in any other place. We were not the oddest thing in Walmart. Another woman came up to the cashier, smiling and looking over at Sam. I leaned over to Kelly.

     “I think the environment’s getting a little hostile,” I tried to tease. It didn’t quite feel right but I was just trying to relieve some of the tension I felt. 

     Kelly rolled her eyes. “No kidding.” She made a face as one of the women laughed and I tried not to smile at it. Instead, I turned to Sam and handed him back the phone that I was still holding.

     “Here.”

     “Thanks,” he took it and quickly pocketed it. “You get used to it,” he said.

     “Hmm?” I looked up at him, not entirely sure what he meant.

     He motioned at Dean and the cashiers. “Them. It takes longer but he’s flirting and they haven’t noticed that they haven’t actually scanned everything they’re passing through.”

     “Oh!” I had never even thought of that. Dean flirting with you would be a distraction. I turned to look and sure enough, the girl flirting back didn’t notice when one of the shirts she slid over the scanner didn’t scan.  “Wow.”

     “Yeah,” he said. “It usually works, though occasionally not well with certain old ladies.”

     I snorted, then covered my mouth with my hand trying to hide my giggles. I could see Kelly looking at me confused but I could perfectly imagine Dean trying and failing to flirt with an old lady. It felt like forever since I had laughed. I stopped, realizing the truth in that. I definitely hadn’t laughed since I left the diner but before that…before that was rare too. Even before leaving my world, I didn’t laugh much after Kelly died. 

     The shower was heaven. I didn’t realize how filthy I was until I kept washing. I eventually had to force myself to stop. Scrubbing my skin raw wasn’t going to erase the memories that were burned into me. 

     I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the demon was waiting for me. The memories of the blood and the bodies were there. I looked around the dark room that Bobby had offered up to us. Kelly had dragged me upstairs to force me to shower and catch up. She had passed out while I had showered. I didn’t want to leave her, but I couldn’t sleep. She was sprawled across the bed and facing away from me. I stared at her for a moment, watching her breathe. It was still real. She was still here. 

     I climbed over her carefully. Jane wasn’t in the room but there were sounds coming from the main floor. I went to the washroom to clean up before I headed down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. It wasn’t that I wanted to hide my presence, but I hadn’t had much interaction with the men outside of the first meeting and shopping. I was far too aware that people generally said more than they intended to when they didn’t realize you could hear them.  

     It wasn’t anything more than “pass me that book”. I moved closer. I caught sight of the clock. It was just after two in the morning. It didn’t feel like we had been upstairs that long. I didn’t want to intrude on the men. I just...I couldn’t be in the dark anymore. Even if it was slightly better feeling someone sleeping next to me, it just brought me back to nights alone. I couldn’t stay in that room, but I didn’t really have anywhere to go. I wanted Kelly to wake up so I wasn’t alone. 

     “You gonna stand there all day or come in?” I looked up, startled at Bobby’s voice. I had made it to the doorway without realizing it. 

     “Yeah, sorry,” I said, quickly stepping into the room. “I just…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say. 

     “Keep moving,” Dean appeared behind me, beer in hand. He ushered me further into the room before walking around me. “We have some questions for you.”

     “Questions?”

     Dean sat down in a chair and looked up at me. All of them were sitting and looking at me. It was a little surreal and really unnerving. Anxiety started to creep up my spine. 

     Sam stood up. “Why don’t you sit down?” He moved a stack of books off of a chair before pushing the chair towards me.

     “Thanks,” I said. I stayed standing. It felt like I was being ganged up on already and my body was gearing up, as if ready to run. “What questions?”

     Dean leaned forward. “How old are you?”

     “What’s that got to do with anything?” I asked, confused at the topic. 

     “Fact-checking,” he said.

     I frowned. That didn’t make any sense. “Fact…” I looked at all of them, watching their expressions when it clicked. “Like a lie detector. You already know the answers, but you want to see if I’ll give the same ones.” I scoffed and shook my head.

     “Answer the question.”

     Anger welled up in me and I suddenly pictured taking up the book near him and hitting him with it, over and over, just to make him stop looking at me like that. Like I was something he needed to hunt. I shoved the intrusive thought out of my head and took a deep breath. I could work with this.

     “Only if you answer mine,” I said. I waited as the brothers looked at each other before Dean nodded. “I’m twenty-seven. Where in the timeline are we?” They looked confused so I elaborated. “How long ago did you release Lucifer out of the cage?”

     Sam shifted in his seat before answering quietly. “About four months ago.”

     I nodded. The timeline was confusing. It didn’t match up with the show if Kelly was already into the next season. I remembered what Kelly said about how long I was gone. Time worked differently. 

     “How did you get into…this world?” Sam asked. I frowned at him. I told this story. This had to be more fact-checking. A good way to see if people were telling the truth was to ask them the same question at different times, see if they had the same answer.

     “I walked,” I said. “I was job hunting, walking around and handing out resumes. Not a lot of work for someone who dropped out of a university master’s program. Least, nowhere I wanted to work. I walked out of a store and suddenly I was just on a dirt road. There was no sign of anything. I didn’t even realize the scenery was different until after I took that step. I looked back and there was just…more road.” I stared at the bookshelf, thinking back into the moment. I had panicked. I had screamed. I was just so confused.

     “You didn’t feel anything?”

     I jolted out of my thoughts, looking around the room as I remembered where I was. Sam was leaning forwards, his arms on his knees and a concerned look on his face.

     I shook my head. “No. It was just one second in the city and the next somewhere I had never even seen before.” My throat tightened. The fear from that moment had never quite left. I tried to change the subject. “What happened after I...after Castiel knocked me out? Is there a plan?”

     “You’re staying here,” Bobby said. “For now.” There was a slight threat lingering there but I didn’t pay any mind to it. That was understandable. I opened my mouth to thank him but he stopped me. “Don’t thank me just yet. We still don’t know why you’re here…or how to get you home.”

     Home. I swallowed tightly and clenched my jaw. I took a deep breath. Gods, all I wanted was to go home. To tell my family I was alive and that I was okay. Sort of. I tried not to think about the fact that it might not be possible. 

     “What happened after that?”

     I looked sharply at Dean. “I already told you that.”

     “So tell it again,” he said.

     “Dean…” Sam called out. Both of us ignored him.

     “No,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him. “When you said you wanted to ask questions, I figured it was something about what I knew about you. Not the Spanish inquisition. I didn’t agree to be put on trial.”

     “That’s not what’s happening here,” Sam said.

     “Isn’t it?” I snapped, looking at him. “You waited until I was alone, most likely still sleep-deprived despite being put into a coma by an angel, and traumatized considering what you know I’ve been through so far so that you could force whatever truth you want out of me? Way to go. Points to you for trying to take advantage of what I’ve dealt with so far.” I gave a hard smile before turning to walk away. I had enough.

     “Michelle,” Jane stood in the entranceway to the room. Her red curls were wild, looking as if she had been running through trees and had caught pieces of them in it. I had no idea how long she had been there or how much she heard. “You’re awake. I wish to speak with you.” I tried not to sigh. So did everyone it seemed.

     “Wait your turn darling,” Dean said from behind me. “We’re not done.”

     “The hell we aren’t,” I snapped.

     Jane walked towards me and looked at the men. “I care not for your trivial words, man-child. I wish to speak with her and so I shall. Presently.” Jane took my wrist and pulled me out of the room. She let go once we were in the hallway but motioned for me to follow her. She led me out of the house. The air was crisp and I could almost see my breath. I went as far as the porch.  

     She stopped once she realized I was not following further. She sat down on the ground at the bottom of the stairs and motioned for me to join her. I sat on the top stair and waited. I didn’t know her. I had no idea what she wanted, but I was nervous. Again, I wished Kelly was with me.

     “What did you want to speak about?” I finally asked.

     “You were uncomfortable,” she leaned back on her hands. “No man should make a woman uncomfortable. If we were in my world, he would pay for the disservice.”

     I stared at her for a moment. Woman solidarity transcended worlds. I had to admit, that was kind of cool. “Thanks.” She nodded in return and it was silent for a moment before I spoke again. “Why outside?”

     Jane seemed to sigh. “This world is stifling. All these…machines and steel. You take no pride in what the Goddess gifts you and your world is lacking.” She looked up to the sky. “The stars will not even shine here.” I watched her for a moment. There was a look on her face that almost seemed sad and resigned. She looked back at me. “Despite this, I am more free outside, more connected to the earth than when I am within those walls.”

     “Will you tell me about your world?” I asked.

     She smiled and it seemed to lighten her entire face. She suddenly looked so much younger than I expected. “It is very different from this one. We do not have these barriers between ourselves and the earth, nor do we have the same machines. All are welcomed and cherished by the Goddess. Women are the leaders of our clans; we hunt and provide for our young ones and the ones who cannot care for themselves any longer….”

     The sun rose as we spoke. Everything in Jane’s world sounded rather primitive compared to what I was used to…but also nice. You could hear how much she cared for her community, and it was a community. They took care of each other in their clans. A cooperative living environment. Something that would rarely happen in our society, and if it did, would be looked down upon by others. It sounded like I would have been much safer had I landed in her world instead of this one.

     It also explained a lot about Jane. She was a leader in her clan, in line to become the head. A skilled hunter and fighter, often in the front lines of any skirmishes they had with other clans or animals. It made me wonder.

     “What do you think of this? Of…being here?”

     She didn’t hesitate before answering. “It is a trial from my Goddess and I will prove myself worthy of her.” She looked determined, and I was tempted to dig further, to know why she thought this was a test and if she thought we’d ever return. I just wanted someone to know and she seemed so confident that I would believe her. Or pretend I did.

     My stomach growled suddenly and Jane looked at me sharply. She stood up quickly.

     “You need sustenance. Go, find yourself food. If they deny you it, inform me. I do not trust these men and I shall deal with them if I must.”

     “I’m sure it won’t come to that,” I said as I stood up. “Despite everything, they are good men. They’re just…stressed. Like all of us.” I gave her a small smile. “Thank you.” She nodded at me and I turned and walked inside.

     I passed Sam in the hallway who was on the phone, heading towards the back door. I walked into the kitchen and stiffened. I forgot it was connected to the library. Dean was leaning into the fridge. He looked up when he heard me and straightened. I pressed my lips together as we both tried to figure out how to proceed. I took a deep breath and tried to let go of any residual anger that I felt from earlier. It wouldn’t do any good.

     “Got anything light to eat?” I asked tentatively. An awkward peace offering if any.

     “Uh, not really,” he looked back in the fridge. He looked up at me, confused. “Can’t you eat normal? Cas healed you.” 

     I hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know. I...I haven’t eaten in days. Better safe than sorry,” I shrugged. The thought of eating felt strange after days of trying to scavenge. 

     He seemed to think about it, his head tilted as he nodded. “Soup?” 

     I sighed before nodding. “Sure. I’ll try it.”

     “Cans are on the shelf next to the sink. Pots under it.” He motioned. He finally closed the fridge and poured himself a cup of coffee. It didn’t look fresh. 

     I opened the cupboards, looking at the cans of soup. Suddenly, the thought of making food exhausted me. I closed the cupboard and opened one after another until I found cups. I grabbed some water from the sink and leaned against the counter. I drank one cup and then another. I held back on drinking more. I knew better than to drink too quickly, I just wanted the hunger to subside.

     “Not eating?” Dean was staring at me, taking a sip of his drink.

     I shook my head before looking at him. “I’m tired. Can’t be bothered to make anything.”

     Dean made a noise as if he agreed. “Sam’s grabbing food.”

     I nodded, though it wasn’t likely it’d be anything I could eat, or wanted to. “I’ll make soup later.”

     He didn’t say anything but didn’t leave either. It was awkward and I felt like I should say more. I could see Bobby in the library. Sam, I assumed, was gone. I had no idea if Jane was where I left her. I pushed away from the counter, put the glass in the sink and walked away.

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @nejires-hado @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations  @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

[thequeenofsastiel]

The way Sam and Castiel look at each other when they first meet.

[honeykept]

for #spnwomenweek day 2: au / family

↳ when Mary comes back, she's still 29, and her sons have a best friend and a kid. despite it all, she tries to get to know them when the opportunity presents itself. (set in an ambiguous time period after dean’s widower arc hence the ‘au,’ except it was only cas that died and mary up and left for a bit. also imagine that mary is played by amy gumenick)

Mary isn't sure if she's supposed to be babysitting the kid and the angel, or if it's the other way around, but she thinks she should be giving her kids some props for domesticating a holy warrior.

She stares at him where he sits at the library table, blowing gently at his cup of tea. The mug he has it in is shaped like a bee with a cartoon face and a wing on either side, and the tag hanging out of it reads Jasmine. What’s more is Castiel is bouncing baby Jack on his knee while he dozes off, one of his little clammy hands holding the back of Castiel’s neck.

It’s a sight for sore eyes, is what it is. 

She clears her throat. Babysitting or nay, she finally has a minute alone with them, and there’s been a lot on her mind. For instance, were all angels like this? Mary had never really gotten the full story, or stuck around long enough to ask. How had they met Castiel, and under what circumstances? She could honestly spend an entire day inquiring about Heaven and angels and anything to do with God, but starting with the basics probably wouldn’t do any harm or cause any unintended apocalypses.

“Castiel,” she starts, and he lifts his eyes to look at her. The slight surprise reminds her of when she’d first met him, his complete shock at seeing Dean again. It’s definitely a weird name, and Dean said it a lot better than she could.

“It’s, uh,” he says, straightening, “your sons call me Cas.”

Mary smiles at that. She doesn’t know them very well as they are now, but it somehow seems fitting that her kids would strip their angel of the God in his name. 

“Okay then, Cas. I had a couple of things I wanted to ask, if you don’t mind. It um...it feels weird, asking the boys.”

He sets his mug down and nods, eyebrows creasing in seriousness. “Of course.”

“The kid,” she glances at Jack, “Sam and Dean were taking care of him before you came back. They said he...pulled you back from Heaven, or...wherever you were—”

“The Empty,” Cas supplies. 

“—Sure. Does that...I mean. Is he yours?” she motions at Jack.

Cas looks down at him, and keeps his eyes down at the table.

"Not biologically, but...I love him as my own, yes. So do Dean and Sam. I would hope."

Mary smiles softly, "Sam tells me that Dean took care of him while you were... gone. But it looks like you make a good father, too.”

Cas preens at that, and for some reason it makes her want to ruffle his hair. She can see why Dean’s so attached to him—he’s goofy, definitely not regal or uptight for an angel. At least, not anymore.

“So, how did you...get here?” 

“I walked.”

Mary laughs, but then it dawns on her that Cas is serious, so she dampens it down to a fond smile. “No, I got that. I meant, with the boys. How did you meet?” 

Jack stirs a little, smacking his lips, but Cas hushes him and he instantly falls back to sleep.

“In Hell,” he says, “I met Dean when I pulled him out of Hell. And then I...” he looks away. “Well, they didn’t like me much at first. I had an unfortunate incident with their friend Pamela where I burned her eyes out, but to be fair I did warn her. Dean didn’t remember me from when I raised him, so when I saw him again he shot me several times and then stabbed me in the chest with a knife.”

Mary blinks at him a few times but motions for him to continue. To go from that to how buddy-buddy they were now, Mary thinks they must have gone through a lot together.

“Eventually they came around, and then I rebelled against Heaven and the rest is history,” he smiles. “I like to think we’re...family.”

Oh. She wraps her fingers around her mug of coffee, thumbing at the lip of it. The three of them were much closer than she thought. Well, of course they were, Cas lived here, but she figured it might be temporary, or because he had no other place to stay. But now...the pieces were beginning to click together. 

Mary glances again between Cas and Jack, at the bee mug that is so obviously Cas’, because God knows neither of her boys would be caught dead drinking out of that monstrosity. She thinks of Dean after Cas died, how devastated he had been before she left, like a total asshole. How Jack had saved Cas, how Dean had sounded when he’d called to say that Cas was back, and they were headed to Dodge City.

“You are as well,” Cas tacks on at the same time Mary mumbles, “I didn’t realize—”

“Sorry,” she says, louder, “what?”

“Family,” Cas says. “I consider you family as well.”

“Oh.” It’s been a long time since anyone other than blood had told her that. Affection for Cas blooms in her chest, and Mary swallows down the urge to cry with a nice helping of piping hot coffee. “Thanks, Cas. You too.”

“What were you saying, before?”

She shakes her head a little, trying to clear her thoughts. “Just that I didn’t realize that you and Dean were...um.” Cas narrows his eyes at her, confused, and she thinks it’s better to leave it for another time. “Nothing. It’s just that you two are really close. He was a wreck without you here. You should know that he’s really glad you’re back.”

Cas smiles shyly, turning his face away. “They’re happy to have you back as well,” he says, “and I’m...glad you feel like you can come to me, but I hope you know that you can talk to them, too. About anything.”

“Okay,” she says in a whisper, trying to believe it. Her knuckles are white around her mug, so she relaxes them. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course,” he smiles, “that’s what family is for.”

[@spnwomenweek]

[bumbleberrysky]

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 01

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.2k rating: sfw warnings: none except the appearance of battered gabriel fresh out of asmodeus’ hold notes: welcome to my first dive into writing for supernatural! i saw someone say that s13 lit a fire under their ass like nothing else and honestly i don’t think i could have described it better. i binged so much while catching up the past few weeks idk who i am anymore

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe...

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

next.

“Honeys, I’m home!”

The bunker has the same light aroma of musty air and metal as you let yourself in through the heavy front door, feet carrying you, out of habit more than anything, to the steel landing that marks the entrance to the fortress. It’s been so long since you were last here that the two men you used to hunt with regularly have likely forgotten they gave you a spare key. Well, they hadn’t exactly given it to you so much as you’d made a copy on the down-low and kept it for occasions such as this.

One hand keeps pressure on your arm, an attempt to stem the bleeding, and the other carries your single carry-on bag. You make it about halfway down the stairs before your gaze swings out over the foyer and you freeze, mid-step.

Sam and Dean, the two figures you expected to find here, are standing stock-still with their guns half-poised (not directed at you) and expressions on their faces that are a combination of shocked, pissed, and extremely confused (mostly directed at you). Following the line of their weapons leads you to the other two occupants in the room, most definitely unexpected and completely unfamiliar.

One is in rags, cowering, and whimpering, unrecognisable underneath filthy tangled hair that covers his face, and the other is in a prim suit marred only by blood and a bit of dirt, barely a single strand of dark hair atop his head out of place.

“Twinkletoes? What the hell are you doing here?!”

It’s Dean’s stupid, old nickname for you that breaks you out of your shock, a glare already falling onto your face with the practised ease of muscle memory.  

“I’ll answer that when you tell me what the hell I just walked in on—” You come the rest of the way down the stairs, slower and more cautious now, with your gaze trained on the two at the other end of the table. It’s when the man in rags finally looks up from where he had been cowering and you catch a glimpse of his face, bloody and bruised but instantly familiar, that your words swell and catch in your throat.

“… Gabriel?”

The brothers in front of you heave a great, unanimous sigh, a look passed between them telling you that you’re about to be on the receiving end of a very ludicrous and typical Winchester story.

x     x     x

The first time you met Gabriel was not long after you’d gone through the biggest plot twist of your entire life. You’d gone to sleep in your bed, in your home, and woken up in a completely different part of the world, like some magician had snapped their fingers and you’d been the punchline of their very next trick. Much to your regret and distaste, some minor investigation revealed that where you’d woken up in the backseat of a car on the side of the road was in some state in the US. You’d sworn to yourself that you would never step foot here in your entire life and then, like God or whoever reigned above was laughing straight in your face, you’d just up and woken up in some random car in a place that made you long to be literally anywhere else.

Preferably somewhere where the occupants didn’t have such easy access to guns.

…like the two men who screamed and pointed theirs at you when you popped up from their backseat after they climbed into the cabin, fast food in their arms.

That was the first time you’d met the infamous hunting brothers, the Winchesters, and the first time of many you’d nearly died in their company.  

It had taken a while for them to trust you, but after you inviting yourself onto a few of their cases and saving their asses a handful of times (ignoring the amount of times they saved yours because you forgot that almost every American slept with a gun beneath their pillow) they’d eventually taken you under their proverbial wing. It helped that you had literally nowhere else to go and nothing but the clothes on your back and a bare handful of belongings to your name. Once they figured out you weren’t hiding anything up your sleeve and that you’re just naturally annoying and a little dumb, they’d happily invited you to become an official-unofficial part of their little hunting gang. This means you’re also familiar with the hilarious angel they have in their back pocket. Castiel is a riot and one of the things you miss most when you go off to hunt on your own.

Having been around during the whole ordeal of Lucifer and Michael going through the motions of continuing their family spat on an apocalyptic scale, you too grew to be familiar with their youngest brother, the archangel Gabriel. Of course, while you’d been there for a fair amount of the angel-turned-trickster’s shenanigans, you weren’t there for the final appearance he made at a hotel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In complete juxtaposition to the fact that you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d interacted properly with Gabriel, the sensations you experienced at the news of his sacrifice, his death, were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You like to consider yourself much more emotionally healthy and with an emotional range far larger than that of a teaspoon and the Winchesters’, but that… that news was something that it had taken you months to recover from fully.

And even then, apparently your recovery wasn’t as complete as you’d thought, because hearing what the boys have told you now has made your eyes burn and your stomach turn into a nest of manic bees, your insides lined with flowers and pollen. You think, for a moment, that you just might be sick.

You’re sitting in the library, Gabriel having been taken to a room of his own by one Winchester while the other fills you in before they’re both reunited before you, and you’re in the kind of mood where you sort of want to just sit there and dissociate for a few hours, truthfully. You can tell you’re not going to get that opportunity though, so in the wake of the bombshell they’d just dropped on you about all you’d missed in the past few months—that they had apparently forgotten to tell you over the phone when you checked in occasionally— you do the next best thing you can think of for the moment.

Put it on the backburner, baby.

You massage your temple with your fingers as you lean your head into your hand, a sigh escaping through your nose. “See, this is why it feels like I have been brought on as a babysitter—I leave for a few months and you old men manage to dig up another almost-apocalypse and find and raise Lucifer’s kid?”

“Alright, first of all,” Dean whips out a finger to point at you, filling you with glee. You’ve barely been back a few hours and already you’re stepping back into your favourite “stir-the absolute-shit-out-of-Dean” pants. As always, he is almost pitifully quick to rise to the bait. “Old? Who are you calling old? Alright so maybe we have a few years on you but that’s just because you’re a toddler and w—”

“Dean,” Sam places a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look that seems to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his features. “You’re making it too easy for her.”

The older Winchester pauses, turning to pin you with an accusing look. You smile, not even attempting to appear innocent. After staring at you for several long moments, Dean makes the ‘eyes-on-you’ gesture with his fingers before turning away, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he takes a seat across from you.

“You were gone for almost a year this time, did you have any luck, well, leaving?” Sam brings your attention back to him, the question dragging out a sigh that feels like it’s been dredged from the very depths of your being.

“No,” you answer, sounding somewhat petulant even to your own ears. “Why is it so hard to leave this god-forsaken country! I hate it here. I’m sick of trying to make a run for it and being zapped back into a swamp, or—or a pool at the top of a penthouse suite in the middle of some random city! It sucks balls.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean waves his hand, enjoying the dirty look you give him. “So you still haven’t found whatever purpose you’re meant to fulfil while here?”

You huff, shaking your head. “No. It’s been years and I still have no idea why I woke up here that day. Or why I can’t leave.”

Over the time you’ve spent with the Winchesters, a few things became apparent to the three of you about your stay here. One, it was indefinite. You’d discovered quickly that you are, quite literally, unable to leave. Every time you get close to escaping this country you black out and wake up back inside. Sometimes in a helpful place, sometimes…. Not.

Two, the three of you had thrown around and entertained the idea that maybe you’d been brought here for a reason, that like them maybe you’d been divinely allocated a role to play. But you’ve been through a lot with the Winchesters, whether in person or by association, and still…

You’re no closer to being able to leave and return from whence you came.

You have no idea why you’re here!

This is something that has really contributed to your temporary career as a hunter here. That isn’t to say that this profession isn’t something you were involved in before you came here, but you’ve really… you really dove into it, whether as a distraction or as an ongoing investigation as to what on earth was going to set you free of your tie to this place. A part of you thinks that each case you take on, each person or family you save and creature you slay might be the one reason that brought you here, and the one task that with its completion will grant you freedom. You’ve never been a fan of being caged; just because this one spans a grand total of 9.834 million square kilometres doesn’t make it any less of one.

This most recent expedition that led you to part from the Winchesters for such a long time was another of your failed attempts to leave. You think you’ve tried escaping at every possible point along the coastline and border by now, with a definite lack of success.

“Well, if it really is some divine intervention keeping you here, then it’s better if you just sit back and settle down, twinkletoes.” Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair with an accompanying creak from the wood. “Those divine types have proven to be… kind of assholes.”

You frown, but he isn’t saying anything you haven’t already thought. It’s part of why you’d settled so easily into hunting here, actually. ‘When in Rome…’, as they say. You’re familiar with the hunting grind and there is comfort in familiarity.

“Are you going to stay a while?” Sam asks, opening the first-aid box he’d first brought over when you’d settled down. Ah, right—you’d almost forgotten about the injury on your arm, despite the fact that you are still pressing a palm to it. You listen as he speaks, almost swearing you can detect a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “You still have a room here for you, of course. We haven’t touched anything inside.”

“Yeah, mostly because we didn’t wanna deal with the mess and the booby-trapped doors—” Dean’s under-the-breath mutter is cut off by your coo, a wide smile pulling your lips.

“Oh, you two missed me, didn’t you?” Instantly, you are successful in ruffling Dean’s feathers— Sam might take a bit more work, though. “I know I really light this dark, dingy place up but I didn’t know it was that bad without me! Ah, perhaps I will stay a while. You know, out of charity.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, beseeching. “It’s not too late—you hold her back and I’ll find her key. It’s not too cold, she’ll be alright outside.”

An appalled and affronted look slips onto your face and Sam has to clear his throat so that he doesn’t laugh and add to his brother’s torment.

“I’m not a misbehaving puppy,” you say, holding your arm out for Sam as he comes over and finally freeing your bloody hand. “Wait, unless you want me to be. Been broadening your horizons beyond animated tentacle porn have you, Deanie-bo-beenie?”

On cue, Dean’s face flushes light red, whether from anger or a brief spritz of embarrassment, only God knows. You can see Sam’s face grow tense from the effort of holding back noise in your peripheral as he tends to your arm.

“You know what? I’m better than this. I’m gonna let it go.” Dean rises from his chair, making a show of dusting off your metaphorical drama. His light eyes flick to you, squinting. “I’m tired; I have a date with my memory foam pillow and nice, warm, feather duvet and a good night’s rest, so goodnight. I hope your bed has bed bugs, twinkletoes, and I hope they bite.”

“I hope you sleep well too, Dean!” you call after him, deciding you’ll have to give him a break from the bullying tomorrow  or else he’ll explode before you can have much fun. “Do you want me to come tuck you in?”

“No! Goodnight!”

His yell and disappearance down the hall is followed a few moments later by the familiar sound of a door slamming shut,

“That’s not very fair of you,” Sam announces, sounding strained and very much like he’s trying not to laugh lest Dean has an ear pressed to his door. “He’s too tired to fight back right now.”

“I know,” you answer, wincing as he wipes down the laceration on your bicep and cleans the blood away with an alcohol wipe. It burns, but it’s definitely not the most painful thing you have ever experienced. “I hadn’t seen you guys in so long, though. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam simply snorts, reaching for the needle and thread to being stitching the skin back together, and you breathe harshly through your nose as you reach for another topic to distract yourself.

“Are the two—sorry, the three of you actually dads now? To… to Lucifer’s half-angel kid? I thought angels getting frisky with humans was, uh… illegal up in heaven.”

You feel rather than see Sam roll his eyes, your own pointedly directed away from your arm where he has begun to get to work. “It’s Lucifer, y/n, I don’t think he cares about what’s illegal up in heaven.”

You purse your lips—he makes a fair point. Honestly, you feel a little silly for questioning it. “Right, and he’s… trapped in some other dimension? An alternate world where the apocalypse really happened.”

“Yep,” Sam says, hitting a particularly painful spot with his needle. You hiss, giving him a glare.

“I wasn’t even gone a year! Just hearing all this shit is stressing me out so much, dude.” You sigh, attempting to adjust your position in the wooden chair without jostling your arm too much. Thankfully, practice has made Sam quick at his job and already he is almost done piecing you back together. He finishes up with a knot, snipping the thread and then placing a large bandage carefully over the wound. He dusts his hands once done, standing from where he was leaning against the table and proceeding to loom over you like a T-Rex.

“You’re blocking my light, bro,” you inform him, narrowly avoiding a subsequent good-natured smack to your good arm. “Damn, what the hell! Didn’t you take an oath or some shit? I’m your patient!”

“I was studying law, not medicine,” Sam retorts dryly. He turns to leave and put the first aid supplies away, his back facing you but not before you see how his lips twitch. “So your annoying ass is free game.”

“Maybe so,” you acquiesce, rising from your seat with a light grunt as you jostle your arm. You consider asking Sam where Castiel is, to see if you can get a hit of the good stuff and skip the healing process, but think better of it. You always feel a bit bad asking him to heal you, though you barely ever have to since he’s like a rabid mother hen the second he sees blood on any of you. “God, I’m beat. I didn’t think I could get any more tired than I was before, but as always catching up with you two has aged me a few years and now I’m just about as tired as you two are all the time.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the ‘old man’ bait you dangle in front of him—never really does, if you’re being honest; that’s mostly Dean’s vice— but he does offer you a smile that is unexpectedly sincere and fond.

“Go to bed, toddler,” he retorts, before continuing in a softer tone, “… It’s good to see you again, y/n. I’m glad you’re here. Dean and Mom are going out on a hunt in the next few days and I think you can really help with, uh… the whole Gabriel thing.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You’d sort of been trying to avoid thinking about the elephant in your mind, for the very same reason that makes your eyes burn once more. It hurts, a lot, thinking and imagining what he must have gone through at the hands of Asmodeus. It feels like your heart is going to tear itself to pieces in your chest from the sheer extent of your empathy and how terrible you feel for him. The Gabriel you saw cowering before you earlier is nothing like the confident feathery asshole you used to know.

Even having only seen him once, it’s enough to make you fearful of the possibility that… he might be too far gone to ever return to that last echo of his previous self.

“I’m not sure what I’ll even be able to do to help,” you respond, approaching the doorway to the hall with your bag in tow. You pause to finish what you’re saying, meeting Sam’s puppy-like gaze from across the room. “But I’ll try. It hurts to see him like that, so… I’ll stay a while, to do whatever I can.”

Sam’s answering thankful smile and nod is all you can ask for in response as you turn and head further into the bunker, dragging your bags back to the room you’d come to call your own over the years. Your gaze strays on the way to one of the doors that has a little note taped on saying, ‘please do not open suddenly or loudly’, undoubtedly the room that they have allocated to Gabriel for the time being. Heart heavy in your chest, you continue on down the hall and tear your gaze away.

You’re not sure how much you can do for him, but you hope you can do something.

next 

[writtenmemxries]

Next time try counting sheep

Maybe I'm getting a taste for writing Destiel fics. Also, I'm a sucker for fluff, so here we go. Hope you like it, let me know what you think! xx

1244 words

Dean awoke with a start, perhaps recovering from a nightmare, in a bedroom - his own bedroom - immersed in darkness. His hand tightened automatically on the gun he kept under the pillow. He wasn't alone in that room, he could feel it. He could feel the slow breathing of another living being somewhere beside him.

Dean tried to concentrate on the silence surrounding him and he seemed to hear a slow heartbeat, as if someone in that room was sleeping.

His eyes got used to the darkness and he noticed something lying beside him. Only then did he realise the weight he could clearly feel on the other side of the queen-size bed, but that for some reason he had ignored.

He approached slowly, careful not to squeak the springs of the old mattress, and saw a human figure prone sleeping blissfully with one arm under the pillow, hugging it gently. He frowned. He wasn't sure he was seeing what he seemed to see, and a mixture of fear and confusion made its way into him.

"Cas? Is that you?" he whispered hesitantly. He didn't get any answer, but something inside him told him that that man was the angel Castiel, or at least what used to be an angel. Castiel had recently lost his angelic grace, finding himself suddenly human in every way.

Dean reached out and gently shook his shoulders. He heard a grunt, the man beside him moved faintly. He shook harder and two big blue eyes opened instantly, fearful and confused.

"Cas?" Dean said again.

"Dean," the other answered with a sleepy voice.

Dean withdrew his hand from his shoulders. "Cas, why are you in my bed, man?" he asked quietly, running a hand over his eyes.

"Dean, I-," Castiel began, then stopped. A new sensation was taking hold of him. He felt warm at his face and his stomach was closed. Embarrassment? Fear? Castiel still didn't quite understand the many nuances of the human soul.

"You what?" Dean asked. The tone of his voice was firm, almost annoyed.

I'm annoying Dean, Castiel thought, and suddenly he felt stupid. Stupid for having sneaked into Dean's room late at night, stupid for lying down on that soft bed, stupid for having watched Dean sleep until he too had fallen asleep. He felt stupid because he didn't even know why he did it. Was he afraid of sleeping alone? Was he intimidated by that big and bare room inside the bunker that was now his room?

Watching Dean sleep had always been relaxing for him. He used to do it when he still was an angel and had his powers. Not always, but sometimes, when he was certain that Dean would not wake up and find him there staring at him. Maybe he just wanted to keep watching Dean sleep, even now that he was a simple human.

"I'm sorry Dean," Castiel whispered, looking down. The room was still immersed in darkness, but Castiel thought he could see the green irises of the hunter staring at him, waiting for an answer, perhaps judging him for what he was doing.

"You don't have to apologise, Cas," Dean said sighing. "Just tell me why you're here."

"I couldn't sleep, I guess," Castiel answered, keeping his gaze down.

"Next time try counting sheep and avoid scaring me like that, okay?" Dean said stinging. He got up from the bed, headed to the bathroom. He was like that, no chick-flick moments, and sleeping in the same bed was definitely a chick-flick moment. Sarcasm took possession of him in these situations. The tone of his voice was humorous, but Castiel, embarrassed, could not feel the irony.

"Alright Dean," he murmured again, getting up. Dean had his back to him, but the creaking of the bed made him turn and look at him.

"Where are you going now?" Dean asked.

Castiel moved a hand towards the handle, his eyes focused on Dean's. "In my room," he answered simply, opening the door and letting the corridor light enter the room, illuminating it just enough to allow both of them to see the expression on the other's face. Dean's forehead was frowned, still confused by the fact that he had spent the night in the same bed as Cas without even knowing it. Castiel's face, on the other hand, looked sorry, almost guilty, and Dean noticed it.

He cleared his throat. "Right. Listen, Cas, if you still have trouble sleeping..." he stopped, looking away from Castiel, "Call me, okay? Just... let me know before you get into my bed, alright?"

Castiel smiled vaguely, his shoulder muscles more relaxed. "Alright Dean, thanks," he said before sneaking out of the room.

Dean stood in front of the bathroom door for a while, still too shocked to move. Somewhere deep inside he hoped that even the next night Castiel would have trouble sleeping and that he'd decide to go to him, encouraged perhaps by his words.

He wanted to hear a knock on the door, he wanted Castiel's face to peep out from the door and shyly ask him if he could come.

Dean would snort jokingly, but his lips would automatically curve into a smile. He'd try to hide it, but it would be inevitable. Then he would clear his throat to avoid thinking about it and blushing.

He would tap his hand on the bed, inviting him to sit next to him, but Castiel would sit on the edge, his back straight as a pole, still embarrassed.

Dean would laugh looking at him, grab him by the shoulders and pull him towards him, making him lie down. His hands would not move from the angel's shoulders, finding the position too comfortable, and Cas would not shake them off, feeling Dean's warmth safe and comforting.

However, the embarrassment would take over, and Dean would move slightly away. Their shoulders would no longer be in contact, Dean's arms crossed against his chest, Castiel's hands peacefully on his lap.

Neither of them would speak for a while, but the embarrassment would be gradually diminishing, until for both of them that would be the most natural thing in the world, as if it had always happened and was destined to happen again.

Dean wanted this to happen, he didn't even know why, but the thought of it thrilled him.

Castiel would fall asleep first, feeling the presence of Dean comforting. Dean would stay awake a little longer, enchanted by Castiel's face.

Perhaps, when he was sure of Cas' deep sleep, he would come closer, wrap his arms around his waist and place his chin on the crook of his neck, or maybe on his head.

He would feel his heart beat fast, too much, and a voice inside his head would tell him that he should not be doing that, that Castiel would wake up, that nothing would be the same, that he had to break away immediately before it was too late, and that they weren't made for chick-flick moments like that. But Dean would ignore that voice, just as he would ignore the pounding of his heart. He would simply crouch at the angel, certain that no one would ever know anything, and he would fall asleep like that.

Dean was still in front of the bathroom door, fantasising about all of this with a faint smile poking his lips. But obviously he would never admit it, because he hated chick-flick moments, didn't he?

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Prologue

You Said You’d Catch Me (…If I Fall)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)       x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 3930

Summary for series: In which Steve is forced to solve an unsolvable dilemma and inevitably fails, Natasha is nosy in her attempts to be a good friend and it backfires and Sam Wilson is too old for that $#*!.

Also, Castiel is picking up strays from Heaven, leaving them to Sam and Dean to deal with.

Needless to say, it’s a mess, but when it looks like the God himself might be meddling, Team Free Will doesn’t have a choice. It’s not like they would just let the poor woman with amnesia wander off anyway.

(It is more angsty than it sounds, especially in the beginning.)

Warnings: swearing, very brief smut, violence, some blood, major character death (YEP), mourning, angst

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Don’t you ever bother, my child, trying to win the race against time. Truth is, my beloved, it is such a sore loser that it will never let you win.

-

Steve Rogers woke up with his head pounding so hard he was sure he must have drunk a barrel of Thor’s Asgardian liquor. Not that he remembered doing it.

With his brain in a haze, his hand went to sluggishly rise to his temple as if it could sooth the pain.

He had never sobered up as fast as when he found out he couldn’t do it, something holding his wrist by his side. His eyes snapped open only to be assaulted with a painfully sharp light. A half second later, he revealed he was strapped to a table.

Steve had no freaking idea what had happened, how had he got here or where ‘here’ was, but his instinct yelled at him to break the leather straps. He did so, easily, thanking god for the serum.

What the hell was happening? What the hell had happened?

He gritted his teeth with the effort to get his head on straight. Think, Rogers, think.

To his relief, the pounding headache was fading away, but it offered him no clarity. He couldn’t… he couldn’t recall why he was here and how he had got here in the first place. He wasn’t injured, he thought. If he had been, the serum pulsing in his veins, carved into every cell of his body, had done its job already. Except for his brain cells, apparently.

The last thing he remembered was you. Your laughter echoed in his ears, much brighter than the street and traffic lights illuminating your way as he was walking you home – his haven of the past few days as Tony’s frustration caused by a glitch in his system that he couldn’t figure out was penetrating the Tower’s walls, making the air harder to breathe in when anywhere in the building.

The memory of the twinkle in your eyes, when your gaze met his, automatically brought the briefest smile on his lips if even for a second as he had allowed himself to get lost in the past.

But then the brutal punch had come. Something had stung the back of his neck, an instant dizziness causing him to stumble.

Your horrified cry of his name and the darkness that had followed was like a slap, bringing him back to present.

He jumped to his feet, his eyes quickly examining the room. There was no one in sight. His stomach was squeezed by a cold fist of fear and not for himself.

Your name fell from his lips, silent and wavering.

Someone had drugged him. And you had been there when it had happened. Which, not to point a finger at anyone, but the fact he hadn’t seen anyone coming was totally on you, because when he was with you, he let his guard down, he allowed himself to relax, to forget. To forget who he was to the majority of the world, not to his friends and you.

With you, he was a plain old Steve Rogers, but people were always threatening Captain America’s life.

Fuck.

He prayed to God you were okay. He seemed more or less alright and he couldn’t decide whether that was a good sign. It could mean they had taken out their issues on you instead. His jaw clenched at the idea, the icy shiver that ran his spine in stark contrast to the burst of hot anger in his chest.

If anyone as much as laid their finger on you, he was going to rip their arm off.

Steve tried to shake off the dark thoughts and went to examine the room, this time with his heart hammering, feeling the pulse in his throat. There were two doors on opposite sides of the 40 x 40 ft. room, one to his right, the other to his left. Right in front of him him, there was an enormous screen, stretching along the whole wall. In the corner, there was a little camera. The red dot blinked at him, announcing it was on.

A fraction of second later, the lights in the room dimmed just a bit and the screen lighted up to life, showing a face of an unfamiliar man. He looked like he could use eating a sandwich or two, almost fragile body, deep-set tired grey eyes with wrinkles around them, greyish stubble covering his bony cheeks, contrast to the bald of his head.

“Captain! Good morning!” he greeted him cheerily. Steve squinted, trying to find a clue of what was happening. He could only see the man; not where he was or what was this about. “Good to see you awake. Some of us were getting worried you wouldn’t wake up. Isn’t that right?”

The camera shifted then and Steve’s heart positively stopped.

He lunged forward with his fists clenched on instinct only to realize it would help nothing.

It was you. You with a cloth tied over your mouth, strapped to a chair, a trickle of blood coming from your temple, a strap of messy hair sticking to it. Your cheeks were damp from tears, eyes bloodshot and full of horror. A bruise was forming around your right eye, your line of sight not meeting the lens of the camera aimed at you. Your dress and sweater were dirty and torn as if someone grabbed it too harshly and dragged you away; your nylons ripped, your knees bare and scraped bloody.

Steve didn’t even realize that the raging roar wasn’t only in his mind and actually escaped his mouth, his chest burning with hatred. You sobbed as if you could hear him and Steve understood he wasn’t the only one watching their soulmate.

“You’re a dead man,” Steve growled, causing your eyes falling shut.

While the image stayed focused on you, the man spoke up again.

“And yet I’m still walking…” the man hummed and to emphasize his words, he took several steps towards you – Steve’s feet twitched helplessly, wanting to stop him. But he couldn’t; he had no clue where he himself was, let alone you and that bastard.

He needed to think dammit. And he needed to think very fucking fast. His brain finally kicked in, immediately racing despite the trembles in his body – he couldn’t tell whether it was rage or fear.  When the man circled your chair and aimed the camera lower, Steve was suddenly certain it was pure horror.

There were explosives. There were explosives stuck to your chair and a timer set to two minutes; luckily, frozen. Steve was sure as hell it wouldn’t stay that way as a suffocating lump grew in his throat. He couldn’t breathe in.

The camera moved again, showing the man as he glanced at what Steve assumed was a screen like the one he was seeing, the one you kept watching. Steve didn’t bother wasting his brain capacity on trying to control his expression. The man smiled a toothy grin and Steve wanted to puke, his mind frantically fighting with the heavy stone in his stomach, screaming at him that this was you, his soulmate, basically sitting at a bomb.

“If you’re pissed off now, just wait for what’s to come.”

Pissed off? Oh, Steve was so beyond pissed off. When he was about to get his hands on this man, he wasn’t just about to rip his arm off. He was going to do so with all of his limbs and finish with the carotid, using his bare teeth.

The camera must have been set on a stand, still showing you, as Steve could hear the man shuffle around. The next thing he knew, the screen in front of him split in two separate images; one of you and the other showing nine frames of traffic cameras, all of them aimed at trashcans. Steve didn’t understand.

Yet.

Until the frame of you split into two, the other image showing another timer, simply lying somewhere in an empty room. It read two minutes. Frozen. Just like the one on your back.

Something ugly crept Steve’s spine, a hunch he refused to acknowledge.

“You see, you have two options now, Captain,” the man explained and Steve’s teeth grinded with effort to deny what was set in front of him. It wasn’t what he was thinking, it couldn’t be. “There’s a door to your left – close to your heart, of course…”

Steve’s hands trembled as the man walked to you and almost gingerly loosened the cloth over your mouth, only to tear a strap of your dress after that, revealing your soulmark. It was illegible from the distance, but it still sent a fresh way of nausea up Steve’s throat. A whimper escaped you.

“Pick the left door and save your soulmate. Or take the road to your right and be the righteous man everyone claims you are. There are nine bombs planted over the streets of New York. Busy morning, as you noticed, I’m sure. God, Mondays suck…”

Steve’s head was spinning.

The man was lying. He must have been lying.

“Oh and just so you know, your country is watching. Hacking is too easy these days. Ready to start the race?”

“Wait!” Steve blurted out instantly, catching the man’s attention. It was unfair how much Steve’s voice was shaking, but it was the least of his problems. “What… what do you want?”

The man frowned. “For you to choose. I’m sure you noticed the earbud I gave you-“ No, Steve hadn’t. Having a comm in his ear was a second nature now. “Don’t you worry. You’ll hear us the whole time.”

“No! Wait! There’s… there’s gotta be something-“

The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “The timer’s about to start, Captain. You better choose or you’ll lose both, her and tens thousands of lives I imagine. Life is full of hard choices, isn’t it?” he mocked him and this time it was definitely rage that overtook Steve’s mind and body.

Until someone new spoke up, scratchy, weak and weary voice that shattered his heart turned his stomach around.

“Steve? It’s… it’s okay. Go,” you creaked, your eyes shining with fresh unshed tears. It wasn’t the haunted look in your gaze that unsettled something deep inside of him. No. It was the dark resignation that laced the breath-taking colour of your eyes. “Go save lives. I… I knew I’d have to share you with the world. Frankly, I didn’t imagine it would be like this, but— you go and be hero. My life is nothing compared to thousands and we both know that.”

The world swayed off its place, Steve’s knees buckling, actually forcing him to stumble backwards and lean onto the table he was strapped to.

The fuck did you just say? With unshakable conviction no less?

“The clock is ticking now, Captain,” the man informed him swiftly, smile in his voice. It was like a punch to Steve’s solar plexus.

With his own shield.

“No,” Steve choked out, his glare darting from one door to another.

How could he even make such choice?! What kind of a twisted monster did this? Who was this man?

“Your soulmate is telling the truth, Captain, isn’t she? You are the hero. You always make choices to save people no matter how much it hurts you… if it hurts at all, of course. Maybe, maybe you don’t care-“

“Hey, I know you do!” you rushed to interrupt, a spark of life lightening up your face, but Steve’s hands only darted to his hair, fingers interlacing in desperation.  Your voice softened then. “It’s alright, Steve. I… I love you. And I’m so sorry it will hurt when I’m gone… but I believe in you. You can make it…”

“Yes, I can,” he growled, jolting to his right to disarm the bomb.

He could make it. He could handle the global threat and then rush to your rescue even if it meant he would burn to ashes shielding you from the flames.

His conviction only grew when he heard a familiar voice in his ear.

“Cap? Cap, can you hear me?”

It shook him more than the collision with the door. “Natasha?!”

“And company,” Stark supplied helpfully and Steve could cry in relief.

He wasn’t alone. He could do this.

“Can you disarm the bombs?” he panted, nearly faltering in his steps in relief.

Could Steve leave the nine explosives with one trigger alone and save you?

“Ah, look at him, Americans. The original Avenger, rushing to everyone’s rescue. Looks like he has some assistance, but that isn’t going to help. The choice was made. What is one life compared to thousands? Maybe she doesn’t even matter to him, does she?” the man interjected again and Steve gritted his teeth, pushing to his very limit to speed up.

The hall was narrow. No other possibilities – just running straight ahead. He felt like his mind was anything but straight, buzzing frantic images and dark scenarios. Your voice, ironically enough, was not helping.

“Steve, don’t listen to him. It’s okay. It’s okay…”

“Tony? Can you get rid of the bombs?” Steve repeated, gulping when the billionaire didn’t answer right away.

“No.”

Steve’s world crashed that moment and he wanted to scream.

Alone it was then. He had been alone before. He could do this.

“Romanoff can help you disarm it, we have… ugh, great visual of the corridors and of you thanks to the guy. I’m on my way, but it will be a really fucking close call.”

Steve mentally nodded, swallowing his fear. No time for fear now. Later. He could fold like a house of cards later. He wasn’t alone after all. He had freaking Black Widow and Iron Man at his disposal.

And finally, he reached another door. He burst into the room, his shoulder crying in protest when he broke down the door and stumbled in.

The room was plain, identical to the one he woke up – except there was the timer on a table.

01:02

01:01

“Natasha?” he howled as he sprinted to it. “Talk to me.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” She sounded confident. That was good.

That’s good, Steve’s mind echoed as he bent over the timer, swallowing thickly. Jesus Christ.

“Alright. I need you to rip off the blue wire at the same time you pressing the button on the left side of the timer. Got it?”

Steve only nodded, not taking a second to breathe in and think it through.

He just did it.

The red numbers of the timer flickered on 0:54 and died. Blood ran cold in Steve’s veins. He couldn’t hear any explosions, but that didn’t mean anything; God only knew how far from New York they were.

“Romanoff?” he hissed, already spinning on his heels and springing towards the corridor that had led him here.

“We’re clear. Run, Steve. Get that son of a bitch,” the redhead shot back, her voice sharp, but with a quiver of worry. Steve didn’t like that in the slightest; Natasha was rarely worried.

It was when the man who had assaulted you informed him he was still watching.

“Oh, silly, silly man,” he lamented, a patronizing note to his words. “Do you think you can make it in time? Don’t be stupid. You made your choice. Deal with the consequences.”

“Fuck. You,” Steve strained through his teeth, his feet barely touching the ground as he dashed through the hall, flashing the enormous monitor in his wake-up room a brief look as he headed to the second door.

It barely gave in as he ran into it, sickening crack echoing the empty space and vibrating his bones. Sharp pain jolted through his shoulder and arm; he was certain he just broke something.

It hurt. It would heal. He couldn’t fucking care less.

“You’re running out of time, Captain… you’re always out of time…” the man nearly sing-sang in mockery, making Steve push harder.

“Steve…” Tony’s heavy voice sounded emotionless through the comms and it felt like a slap to his face. “I won’t make it in time.”

Steve snarled, his lungs burning, his heartbeat pulsing his whole being, but he refused to throw himself off balance by even shaking his head in desperation. He ignored the icy fist that squeezed his insides.

He had to run.

Tony’s voice urged him then.

“Steve, there’s no way you can save her either. The lab’s gonna blow up in seconds. Get out of there.“

“Shut up!” the captain growled and as if it wasn’t enough, your captor let himself known too, counting down.

“Five.”

Shit!

Steve really would have to shield you from the explosion. That was gonna hurt a lot.

Well, though luck. He would burn before giving up on you.

He could see the door at the end of the hall now, his muscles crying with effort, his eyes burning with unshed tears or desperation.

He had to make in time to get you of the chair and cover you!

“Cap! Get the fuck out!” Natasha cried out in his ear, but Steve blatantly tuned it out.

He would have ripped the thing out of his ear, but that seemed like too much effort for now. He had more important goals.

“Four.”

He clenched his fists, bracing his body for the impact as he would throw himself against the door.

“Three.”

Pain erupted in Steve’s other shoulder as he collided with the metal, the door flying in the room with him.

“Two,” sounded on his right as he barely kept himself upright, quickly scanning the room. You were there, still on the chair, twenty feet from the door. The man stood by your side, hand on your shoulder, his head tilted to side with curious smile. “Hi there, Captain. One.”

Steve’s glimpsed the horror in your eyes, perfectly mirroring his own.

“Steve!” three voices yelled at the same time as he lunged after the man.

A fraction of second later, his body was thrown backwards with a shockwave, feeling as if on fire.

And then there was nothing.

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He nuzzled his nose to your hair, perfectly blissed out.

He learned to love Sunday mornings. Before he had met you, the day of the week had made no difference to him; he would wake up at 5:45 and get ready for his morning run and the only indication of something being different had been the amount of people he had been meeting on his route. Saturdays had used to be rather crowded, but not Sundays. On Sundays, people had idled. And you had convinced him to do the same.

It hadn’t required much effort from your side; especially after the first time Steve had got to make love to you. Since then, most Sunday mornings were reserved for lazy rolling in the sheets, exchanging sloppy and sensual kisses, wandering hands and lips and finding paradise in your bodies entangled.

He reached his peak shortly after you – because you always came first, an unintended pun, one Steve had made when he had been being absolutely sincere about your pleasure being the priority and you had laughed at it until your belly hurt – and now he wished for nothing but for cradling you in his arms for little longer.

His palm was sprawled on your stomach and he used it to bring you even closer, half-heartedly trying to convince a certain part of his body to stop reacting to your intimate position.

Too late, judging by your chuckle.

“Steve,” you whispered, rubbing your bottom against the hardness, apparently deciding to torture him sweetly. God, he would take every second of that torture and begged for more if it meant hearing you moan his name like that. Christ, this got him going.

You shifted in your position, catching his mouth with yours, fingers of your hand interlacing with his on your hip as you rocked into him once more.

Steve could die a happy man right there as he felt your heat, your tongue shamelessly twisting against his. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was insatiable today. He moaned to your mouth when your hands sneaked between your bodies to guide him in and a shot of ecstasy made him arch his back at the contact.

Your smile was lost to the moan that left your lips.

“I love you,” you whimpered and Steve didn’t waste a second before returning the words, even though they paled under the actual force of what he was feeling with you. Love had never felt this intense before.

That was when the alarm blared, annoying and intrusive sound that had you both crying out in frustration.

Steve had forgotten about the brunch you had arranged with Ryan and his boyfriend.

“Turn it off,” he whined, locking his arm around you to keep you close.

“You know I can’t, Stevie,” you replied, not less annoyed than him. “Looks like we need to go back to reality.”

The intrusive beeping continued as Steve slowly blinked his eyes open. His eyelids felt unnaturally heavy. So did the rest of his body, which seemed to be hurting in too many places at once.

It took him few moments to assess the space he was in – lying in a bed, a beeping machine by his head, wires leading to his body, an i.v. in his arm. He knitted his brows together, reaching for the needle – it must have been why his body was so heavy and his mind so fuzzy.

Sharp pain erupted in his arm and torso, low hiss escaping his lips.

“Careful, Cap,” Tony’s voice brought Steve’s attention to the door where his friend was standing, slowly making his way to the bed. “You got yourself a lot of burns. If it wasn’t for the serum… you’d be a toast.”

“Burns?” Steve creaked, his throat scratchy.

When had he got-

Burns. The kidnapping. The choice he had been forced to make. The explosion.

Everything came rushing back to him in a horrifying fastforward.

“Did-“

“You saved lots of lives, yesterday,” the billionaire informed him, serious and excessively soothing.

It didn’t calm Steve’s suddenly rapidly beating heart. This wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. This wasn’t what he was asking; he knew that much. His thoughts were on you.

Did you survive?

“Did… did she-?“

Tony’s grim expression and solemn shake of his head told him everything he needed but didn’t want to know. Everything he refused to acknowledge, because it simply couldn’t be.

“No,” Steve rasped, his throat burning as much as his eyes and the rest of his body when he tried to sit up, his stomach twisting.

No. This couldn’t be.

It couldn’t, but somehow he already knew it was the truth. You would have been here by his bedside, watching over him. Or you would have been the first thing Tony mentioned, updating Steve on your condition.

Steve remembered with painful clarity the terror in your eyes before everything had gone black. The explosion. You had been in the centre of the room, the bomb basically strapped to your back.

“I’m sorry-”

“No,” Steve repeated stubbornly, setting his jaw tight so it wouldn’t tremble. “She’s… she has to-“

“I’m sorry, Steve. I… I really am.”

The crushing weight on Steve’s chest made it hard to breathe in, his throat closing up in effort not to scream. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill.

No, no, no… someone please wake him up from this nightmare. Please. You had to be alive. You had to, because otherwise… otherwise-

Otherwise he had failed you. Otherwise he was alone in this world again. Otherwise his heart was shattered and he would rather if it stopped. Otherwise his life was thrown back to the shadows he knew after coming out of the ice and further, kicked down to a pit of complete darkness. Otherwise he lost his soulmate.

“Please, leave,” Steve strained through his teeth, not bothering to open his eyes.

You were gone. You were gone, your body burned to ashes in the explosion Steve hadn’t stopped in time. He felt like the bomb exploded right inside of his chest, ripping his heart to shreds, pulsing pain pumped though his veins.

He heard no protest, only a sigh from the other man and a click of a door.

Only then, the first sob shook his whole body and he let himself to break down.

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Part 1

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺ 

Well… that’s a really long prologue, I know. The chapters should be shorter from here.

Title – inspired by Halsey’s Without Me

Thank you for reading!

Please don’t hate me... it’s a Spn crossover, put two and two together ;)

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Hello there! Like I said I would, I kept the taglist. If anyone wants in or out, DM me or send an ask :-*

[castielific]

Fancy and the Tramp

Yes! I just finished this one actually, so it's not technically a WIP anymore and the first chapter should be posted this weekend. Anyway, here is an extract to tease you until then, I hope it'll make you want to read more ;-)

 *********************

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!" 

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really. 

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly. 

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?" 

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?" 

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.  

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

 "I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know. 

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile. 

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled. 

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time. 

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension. 

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods. 

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day...

[chaoticdean]

Forever and a day.

For week 7 — prompt: thunderstorm

Bonus point for anyone who’s able to guess where the title came from! (hint: it’s a song, and it has a lot of meaning for Dean)

Host : @bend-me-shape-me, @helianthus21 & @pray4jensen ♡

(I know I’m pretty late on this! I’m gonna try and pick up the pace, maybe even write for every prompts I’ve missed before!)

READ ON AO3

It’s still dark when Castiel awakes. The sun doesn’t seem to be up yet, and a quick glance at the clock on his nightstand clearly displaying 5:36am in wide red characters confirms that yes, it is early. The former angel rises from his comfortable position to sit on the bed, proceeds to rub his eyes and ruffles his hair — these are a lost cause, no matter what he does they still stick in a hundred different directions like some kind of wild party animal. He’s about to get up from his sitting posture, taking into account the way his stomach grumbles — he really should’ve eaten something last night, but he’s still getting the hang of being human again and quite frankly, this “humans got to eat at least 3 times a day crap” is a daily struggle — when an arm makes its way across his waist and roughly pulls him back against the mattress (and as it turns out, a very warm, living body). 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Dean says, voice still rough with sleep, brushing his lips against Cas’s throat and peppering kisses here and there, which gets the angel’s arousal to rise instantly.

“Well, I was about to go get coffee for your sorry ass, but I guess I’ll stay now that you’ve made me your prisoner” Cas responds dramatically with a wide grin, unable to repress a deep moan when Dean decides to bite the soft skin of his neck. 

“It’s not even 6am and we’ve got nowhere else to be, so keep that tight ass of yours in bed. I don’t need coffee, I need you” the hunters says, in a way that makes Cas shiver a little. 

Dean tightens his grip around Cas’s waist, his other arm quickly wrapping around his other side, hand landing on his stomach. Cas doesn’t move (although he’s not entirely sure he could, given the way Dean is literally wrapped around him), his back pressed against Dean’s chest, his head tucked below the hunter’s, letting him have the space he needs to essentially worship Cas’s skin between his neck and shoulder. He sighs in content, closing his eyes and raising his left arm to bring Dean’s face closer, entirely giving himself up to the sensation. 

The sound of the rain quietly falling down on the bunker’s roof strengthen the cozy feeling of the room that was once Dean’s but has now been theirs for more than a year. There seems to be a storm coming, Castiel can already hear the low rumble of thunder still afar. He used to be unconcerned by weather, back when he was still an Angel of the Lord. It didn’t matter if it rained, if it was below 32°F or if the sun was shining too hard. Now is a different story, and he learned to catalog everything about the weather. He likes the sound of rain, but he also really like when the sun shines on his face while riding shotgun in the Impala after coming back from a hunt. He gets cold really fast, and he learned the hard way that his beloved trench coat wouldn’t be enough to keep him warm anymore (“who the fuck comes to freaking Minnesota with nothing else but a trench coat, you idiot” Dean had said, shaking his head in disbelief but getting his partner one of his winter jacket from the trunk that Cas had kept to this day), but he doesn’t really like when it gets too warm and he’s sweating “like a goddamn trucker after a ride through the desert” courtesy of one Dean Winchester. Sweat is a whole new feeling as well, and he despises it (except when it involves “mind-blowing sex”, as Dean calls it). He likes the rumbles of thunder, but what he loves the most is watching the lightnings fall, cozied up at the back of the Impala next to Dean. 

He never thought he could have this. 12 years of buried feelings, heartbreaks, pain and misery let him think that he would never, ever experience any of this. Yet here he is, the fallen angel, inside the arms of the man he saved from Hell years ago. 

Now his husband.

Yes, for someone who never wore a last name, Castiel Winchester does have a nice ring to it, he’ll admit.

The loud sound of thunder suddenly rips through the silence of the bunker for half a second, apparently approaching Lebanon quicker and quicker, and Castiel can feel Dean arms tighten lightly around him as the storm begins to crack around them. 

Truth be told, it still feels surreal. It’s been an actual process, from literally yelling their mutual feelings at each other’s face after dealing with yet again another “I will kill myself so that you can live” situation, to trying to make this work between them. Dancing around each other and a decade of repressed thoughts and feelings was hard enough, try throwing “how about going human again after being an Angel of the Lord for several millennia” into the mix and see how it goes.

And despite all the troubles that comes with being human — do you know how infuriating it is to remember you’ve got to pee all the damn time?! Or how humans get cold so damn easily? —, despite Castiel being a pain in everyone’s ass trying to come to grip with humanity again, Dean was there alongside him everyday. He wiped every tear, took every bad dream away, woke up at the crack of dawn just so that he could make a different breakfast for Castiel to try every single day. “We need to figure out if you’re more of a regular pancakes and bacon guy, the weirdo type who only eats Lucky Charms with milk, or a plain black coffee and white bread dude. Hell, we can even go wild and have tacos and waffles for breakfast, see how it goes” Dean had said the first morning. Castiel made him come so hard that particular morning that Sam couldn’t face any of them for 2 days after that. 

And then, there was the proposal. It came in as sort of a surprise, for Castiel first but almost for Dean as well. Getting married was the epitome of human custom by definition. Cas had never really thought about it, never really had a desire for it and certainly never expected for it to happen to him. Dean being human, the idea of marriage was almost carved into his mind and it obviously came to mind several times before, but it hadn’t for a while for quite obvious reasons — the end of the world, the self-loathing that clung to his entire soul and dripped through the creaks sometimes, the fact that he didn’t think he’d find anyone willing to spend the rest of their life with a broken up loser of a hunter, anyway he was in love with his best friend who was an angel and who certainly did not share his feelings — pick your poison. 

But that specific night, after spending a certain amount of time mapping the edges of Dean’s body with a fierce determination in the backseat of Baby, when Dean snuggled closer dropping his face into the crook of Cas’s neck and asked if he would marry him with that husky voice of his that made the former angel go crazy, he didn’t hesitate. It took Cas exactly half a second to whisper “yes” into the hunter’s ear, and that settled it. 

They had a quiet ceremony that Bobby officiated, Sam and Jack were their best men, and they were only joined by their closest friends which consisted of Eileen, Charlie, Jody, Donna and the girls (surprisingly enough, Claire was thrilled) , Garth and his family. Cas wore a navy blue suit that made his baby blue eyes look even more deep, and Dean looked like he was out of an episode of the Bachelor with his black tux, black bow-tie and white shirt. They looked perfect. It took them a grand total of 5 minutes before they shared their first kiss as a married couple. There were tears, both in the assistance and on both grooms face. It was perfect. And it looked surreal to Dean. 

But good.

Right.

Everything he asked for.

They went to Hawaii for a week on a Honeymoon, but still took Sam and Jack with them (“because they deserve a goddamn break and little umbrella cocktails as much as we do, Cas, and we owe it to them. Besides, we’ll book that honeymoon suite on the other side of the resort and they won’t have to suffer through our nights” Dean had said with a cheeky grin)

Another loud thunder sound rips through the bunker, and Cas knows that Dean’s going to feel relieved that he got Baby into the garage last night instead of leaving her outside by the door like he usually do when they get home in-between hunts. 

“You do know” Cas starts but Dean interrupts him right away by sucking on his earlobe and boy oh boy does that makes Cas’s body react, “that the walk from this room to the kitchen is roughly 20 seconds, give or take?” 

“So? What’s your damn point?” Dean adds, his mouth mapping that soft spot behind Cas’s ear that tends to make the former angel whimper

“So I can be back in, say, 3 minutes with two cups of coffee and even a slice of that cold pizza you left in the fridge yesterday” Cas manages to say before Dean gets back on attacking his throat with his lips

“You know I love it when you try and talk dirty to me, Angel, but I really don’t care about any cups of coffee or even cold pizza right now. Besides, I’m almost sure Jack chomped that pizza up last night.”

Dean’s mouth lands on his cheek as Cas turns over to face him, finally locking eyes with the hunter — his hunter, he thinks.

“What happened to the ‘I can’t function properly until I’ve got my third cup of coffee’ motto that I’ve seen you go through for the past 12 years, Winchester?”  Cas teases, his left hand cupping Dean’s face. “Was it all a lie?”

The hunter closes his eyes, pushing onto the touch, the cold feeling of the silver wedding band Castiel is wearing on his ring finger attacking his senses. 

Meanwhile, Cas gazes at his husband, realizing he hasn’t shaved in at least two weeks, and his jawline gets even more glorious with that dirty blond scruff all over it. 

Dammit, get it together, Winchester.

“Besides”, Cas adds, his lips brushing lightly against the corner of Dean’s mouth “I’m no angel anymore.”

“You’ll always be my Angel, Cas” Dean responds softly, his green eyes looking even more bright as he says the words. 

“Aww, you’re such a sap.”

“Okay” Dean grumbles, looking slightly offended but sporting a wide grin on his face, “When did you become a sassy son of a bitch, and what have you done with my husband?”

“Learned from the best” Cas chuckles, nuzzling his way along Dean’s jaw toward his ear “and Chuck was technically my father, so you’re like, halfway right on that assumption” he whispered.

“Will you shut your damn mouth and give me a kiss, for heaven’s sakes.”

Cas smiles at the use of these particular words and immediately leans closer, his lips brushing Dean’s lightly before the hunter captures his mouth with a thoroughness bordering on savagery. 

For a former angel who’s known thousands of languages, has been to many different worlds and lead Armies through (literal) hellfire, Castiel can’t find any words or feeling that could do justice to what it feels like to kiss Dean. Words won’t do justice to the rollercoaster of emotions it embodies. It feels both like the universe is exploding inside his chest, but the waves are quieter with Dean’s lips on his. 

Cas finally pulls back just enough to whisper against Dean’s lips.

“Coffee.”

“Okay, Angel. Go get that coffee. Get me that slice of cold pizza you promised” Dean answers as Cas gets up.

He’s only wearing black boxer briefs that Dean is almost sure belongs to him. His hands behind his head, he quietly watches as his husband picks up Dean’s shirt to wear — a Led Zeppelin ’73 tour black shirt that he owns since God knows when — and exit the room to the bunker’s kitchen.

“I’m so damn happy” Dean thinks to himself, and despite 4 decades of thinking he’s not allowed to feel like this, he really wants to believe that everything will be fine, they’ll be okay, they have each other and the future doesn’t look so dark anymore. 

And when Castiel comes back, 3 minutes after he’s left like he advertised before, with two cups of coffee and a plate of waffles and bacon (“Babe, Jack did eat that pizza you left in the fridge yesterday, but apparently Sam made breakfast before he left for his morning run” “it’s 6am, how the hell did that animal make breakfast and left already? How are we even related?”), Dean’s convinced he won the fucking lottery.

(If you enjoy reading this, please consider reblogging/liking, and leaving kudos on AO3!) 

[bidean-byedean]

holy shit, I posted a fic?

Merry Christmas fruits (affectionate), here is my Christmas present to me: actually writing something for a prompt and posting it!!

SPN Advent Calendar Day 24: I’ll be Home For Christmas

AO3 Link 

It’s silent in the Bunker. But not empty, not even close. It waited patiently. As it always does. For those who were meant to find it, did. They always do. And for the first time in many years, for the first of many years:

The Winchesters are home for Christmas.

It’s silent in the Bunker. Empty. No one around for miles that even knows of its existence. Patiently it waits. It knows that eventually, someone will hear its calls and find their way. Those who are meant to be there always do. 

Sam Winchester is the first one home. Technically now, Sam Leahy. He pulls up in the sensible car he managed to snag from a grateful dealership owner who had a problem with a cursed family heirloom, and no matter how much Dean teases him, Sam appreciates the normality of it. Especially now. 

Coming around to the passenger side, he opens the door and holds out his hands for Eileen to grab, her centre of gravity no longer where it should be. She pretends to huff, but softens immediately as he pulls her to her feet, her enormous belly pushing them back apart. It’s easy to forget how lucky they are, with all that happened in the last year, and then he sees Eileen, sees her growing with his baby, and it hits him all over again. For all the bad they went through, where they’ve ended up is pretty incredible. 

Eileen tip-toes up to kiss him, their lips already cold despite only being out of the car for thirty seconds. Something wet lands on her face and they both look up to see the first flakes starting to fall. She smiles brightly. 

“I love snow,” she signs. 

“I know, but we should  go in before-“

“Wait, just one minute. Please.” 

She breathes in deeply, letting the cold air fill her lungs and tingle all the way down into her fingers. Where she grew up, there wasn’t snow on Christmas, always the possibility, but it usually amounted to cold rain and miserable clouds. Here, there’s proper good snow, the kind that falls in fat, fluffy chunks from the sky and settles quickly, building up to a thick blanket in the time it takes you to find your coat and hat and gloves and scarf. 

Letting her face fall back, the flakes tickle her skin, landing on her eyes and mouth, melting almost instantly into tiny cold droplets that run into her hair and down her neck. Sam watches her entranced. He’s never thought much of snow before, not more than it being a type of weather that usually denotes Christmas time and them getting stuck somewhere because the Impala is not an all weather vehicle. But Eileen, she makes it magical. The way it makes her smile, how she breathes it in like it’s her first breath of fresh air in years, and not to mention, she looks even cuter than usual with her cheeks and nose all pink from the cold, her eyes shining brightly in the darkness. 

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re beautiful.”

“You say that to all the girls.”

He pulls her into another kiss, deeper than the first, trying to tell her that he and Dean may have saved the world but it’s her that made it worth saving in the first place, it’s her that makes it beautiful,. 

Inside the Bunker, it’s perfectly toasty, the rush of warm air that escapes when they unlock the door is like a hug, as if the Bunker itself has come to greet them. The place looks like Santa’s grotto on steroids. Their Mrs. Butters interlude may have ended tragically, however she did remind them that they shouldn’t be embarrassed about embracing the holidays - you never know when will be your last chance to celebrate with your loved ones. No one was meant to have another Christmas, and definitely not the Winchesters, so going all out was a unanimous decision.

The banisters are laced with tinsel and the insanely long strings of lights that the boys found tucked in the back of one of the storage rooms. It took hours to get them just so, but the effect is breathtaking. Sam flips off the main lights and lets the place be bathed in coloured lights: reds and blues and greens and golds and whites. Some of them blink in and out slowly, some change colour, the motion giving it all a dream-like quality. Although they finished putting everything up in the first week of December, Eileen still hasn’t gotten used it to. It’s just so much and she loves it. 

They unpack the last minute groceries and put the oven on for tonight’s dinner: party food. If it comes frozen and in miniature, they were eating it. Sam couldn’t wait to see Jack’s face when he saw tonight’s offering, which reminded him- when would Jack get here? He didn’t exactly have a cell that they could call, but he usually gave them the heads up before he was popping in. He kind of expected him to be here already, it was Christmas Eve and Jack had seemed so excited about the holidays…

The lights click off briefly, so briefly that Sam thinks he might’ve just blinked but when he looks up he sees Eileen by the light switch, an urgent look on her face. 

“Come, come, and shhh,” she signs before disappearing without waiting to check Sam follows. He always follows. 

She makes her way through the Bunker into the library, slowing down to sneak into the room like she was trying not to disturb someone, but as far as Sam knew, they were the only people in the Bunker. 

“What?” He signs frowning, but then he sees:

In the library is the tree; the biggest, most obnoxious tree that they could fit through the front door. Thankfully, they found a ladder so they could actually put the lights and tinsel on the monstrous thing, but apart from that the green bows are bare. It’s not the tree that the pair are concerned with though, it’s who is standing, staring up at it. 

Jack’s had Christmases before. The one with Mrs. Butters was his favourite, but not a perfect one because Castiel wasn’t there, and if Castiel wasn’t there then it couldn’t be perfect. This year would be perfect and his favourite because they would all be there. Him, and Castiel, and Sam, and Dean, and Eileen, and the baby. 

He likes the Christmas tree. He feels its life energy coursing through the evergreen leaves; thankful that Sam listened to him about making sure to cut it so that it could be sustained and replanted. It looks beautiful. He likes the lights, the way they blink slowly, changing colour as if they think you might not notice, bleeding from one hue to another almost perfectly. Jack likes perfect things. Which is good because he thinks everything is perfect. 

“Hey Jack,” Sam calls out. 

They think he didn’t know they’re there, and he let them. It’s nice. “Hello.”

“Do you like it?” He signs while he speaks. He’s getting much better at that, Jack smiles. “Biggest one we could get.”

He nods up Sam. “Very much.”

“We, uh,” he taps a box on the floor with his foot. “Left the decorations for you. Thought you might wanna put them up. There’s an angel for the top.”

“Can I wait for Castiel and Dean to get home?”

“Of course.”

“Want a hot chocolate, Jack?” Eileen asks. “I think baby does.”

His eyes drop to her belly. It’s much bigger than the last time he saw her, the baby is almost ready. His sibling, that’s what Sam and Eileen said. He would be big brother. “Can I have marshmallows?”

“Duh! And whipped cream?”

They disappear together, Sam staying behind to look at the tree for a moment. Flashes of childhood Christmases come rushing back, all jumbled into one. There’s one particular year they had a tree in their sad little motel room, probably stolen from a store or something, but it was still great. They even put their gifts under it and waited until after midnight to open them, almost like a real Christmas. How Christmas should be. 

It’s hard not to be angry or ungrateful or dwell on the horrible shit that happened to them over their lives, but it also isn’t healthy to pretend to not be all those things. He spent so much of his life feeling like he didn’t deserve good things, like he would never get to be happy because he was created for evil and doing bad. The fact that Sam Winchester, the boy with demon blood, Lucifer’s Vessel, was decorating for Christmas with actual God, who considered him a father figure, was almost the most insane thing that had happened to him. But it was good and real and he deserved it. He did. 

“We’re home!” 

Dean’s voice echoes through the Bunker making Sam roll his eyes; no matter how many times he tells Dean it’s a dumb habit, his brother just couldn’t drop it. Sam finds them all in the kitchen, Dean already trying to swap out Jack’s Christmas mug of hot chocolate with a beer.

“Hey! Full house, huh?” Dean beams. “I was just telling them, it’s a fuckin’ nightmare outside. Thought we were gonna get stranded.”

Cas sighs loudly. “You should really get a car that can cope with the weather. Or at least snow tyres.”

“Don’t insult Baby like that, Cas. She got us home, didn’t she?”

“Just,” he mutters into his own drink. “Can I ask the plan for this evening?”

“Food, food, and more food?” Eileen signs. “Did you want to finish the tree first? We can put the presents out now too?”

“Good idea,” Dean nods and they all slope back into the library. 

The box of decorations is extremely old and extremely heavy. Inside, it is packed away meticulously, one of the last remnants of Mrs. Butters’, which they had no hope of replicating when it came to taking it all down again. However, no one is thinking about tidying up right now. They rummage through the vintage decorations: delicate glass shapes, baubles filled like snow globes, and weird festive caricatures of monsters like Bigfoot with a Christmas hat on it’s head. There are spell bags for good fortune and keeping spirits high and hangovers at bay, which they check over thoroughly before deciding are not traps and can go on the tree. 

Soon enough there’s only one thing left. 

“Jack, will you do the honours?” Castiel asks, handing the porcelain-faced angel to him. 

He nods happily and steps into the air. It’s surreal to watch him walk as if on solid ground but get further and further away from the floor. He pauses by the top of the tree and smiles before securing the angel to the point. From the ground, it’s almost too far away to really appreciate the thing, but they all beam up at his handiwork anyway. Then they put out the presents. Somehow everyone managed to get on board and there are five distinct piles, everyone getting their own wrapping paper in order to minimise confusion. It’s really quite impressive that they’ve managed it all so smoothly. Mistakes will likely come to light quickly in the morning when they actually come to unwrap them. 

Silently, Castiel slips his fingers through Dean’s, and as always, the Hunter’s heart leaps in his chest. He never wants to get used to the way that it feels to touch Cas, whenever he wants, however he wants. He would never get used to the fact that Cas wants to touch him back. 

“We’ll go set up the Den,” he announces, pulling Cas along with him.

“Not on the blankets!” Sam calls after them. “And crack a window, we have to sit in there too!”

He flips his brother off over his shoulder. However, the big galump has a point. Not that he’s taking Cas to the Den do anything inappropriate, even if that is their usual MO. It’s not Dean’s fault that they have a built in netflix-and-chill room and that Sam decided to get his wife pregnant immediately instead of making the most of not being dead. Plus, he and Cas had years of lost sex to catch up, as was their God given right. (He doesn’t have the brain capacity to unpack the use of that phrase now that his kinda-sorta-maybe-son-in-law is God). 

The Den is also Christmas-fied, just not to the extent of the rest of the place. There are always fairy lights strung up (their Cas’ favourite lighting), but now, they’ve been swapped out for festive coloured ones. 

“Wait,” Cas says, stopping them as they go through the door. Dean frowns at him, but Cas just looks up until Dean follows his gaze. Ah. “Mistletoe. I believe that mistletoe over a doorway signifies something.”

“Does it now? Do you know what?”

They move in closer. 

“I’m not quite sure.”

“Oh? Must not be important then,” he starts to turn away.

Cas catches him and pulls him in. “It’s coming to me.”

“Mmm?” Dean licks his lips. 

Cas mirrors him, his eyes glittering with the reflections of white-blue lights. “On the tip of my tongue.”

Their faces move together slowly as he speaks. Dean’s hands are on Cas’ waist, while Cas’ travel up Dean’s arms, dragging his fingers over the soft fabric of his shirt, until they settle behind his head. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss; gentle but wonderful. 

When they first started kissing, it was urgent. Every kiss was full of importance, full of words they hadn’t said, full of moments they had missed out on; full of anger and sadness and lust and hatred and betrayal and forgiveness and begging and demanding and everything. They couldn’t touch each enough or at all, it was like sticking your hand in a bath that’s too hot, like gripping an ice cube until it eats into your flesh. It was all too much and they nearly collapsed under the weight of it all.

But they didn’t. 

Now they kiss in the moment. Lazily in bed when they wake up, and briefly when they leave the Bunker without each other, and playfully when they tease each other, and defiantly when people give them bitchy stares, and desperately when they’re drunkenly stripping each other, hungry for each other’s skin. They learnt to be Dean and Cas, this new Dean and Cas that, as it turns out, isn’t all that different from what they had all along. 

The kissing is definitely an improvement though.

They set up for the movie marathon silently, working around each other in perfect synchronicity, hands brushing, shoulders bumping, content with the smallest reassurances of each other’s continued existence. By the time that the others appear, laden with food, the pair are back to making out on the couch. 

“There are children present,” Eileen says loudly, making them jump apart. “Schooch!”  

It takes a second to notice what’s going on, but Sam’s stupid grin is what makes Dean pay attention. 

“No, no way, absolutely not!”

“C’mon! It’s fun!”

“You’re idiots,” he says and signs. “No.” 

“Cas, you know you wanna,” Sam wiggles his eyebrows. “You’d look great in them.”

Cas looks between Dean’s scowl and Jack’s smile for a second before giving in. “Hand them over.”

“Cas! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

He sighs. “You’ll understand when you’re a father, Dean.”

“Hey-“ Dean jumps up after him. “What do you mean, when I’m a father, you brought me two whole ass kids that I-“ They disappear down the hall to get changed and he gets cut off. 

When they come back, Cas is beaming and Dean is failing not to do the same. The onesies are teddy-bear fleece, red and white fair-isle style with a reindeers and Christmas trees and candy canes, and ridiculously cutesy. The fact they’re all wearing one makes Dean want to throw up until he actually sees them all together: this is his family, one that he was never supposed to have, and yet, here they are. His throat stings and he scrunches up his face to try and stop the tears before they’ve even formed, but he catches Cas watching him and knows that he’s been caught out. 

“Dean, come here,” Sam beckons. “Picture.”

“Dude, no way-“ But then Jack is pulling him over to the couch and he’s letting him. “I cannot believe-“

“Shut up and smile,” Eileen says, pushing his shoulder roughly. 

Someone has set up an instant camera, balancing it on books and DVDs until it’s the right height, and they all crowd into where they think the middle of the shot is. On the couch, Eileen sits at an angle against Sam so the camera can pick up her bump, his arm around her; Jack is on the floor by their feet grinning brightly; Dean drops next to him, between Cas’ legs; he rests a hand on Dean’s left shoulder and Dean puts his right hand on top of it. It’s the perfect picture of the frankenstein family and Jack insists on taking more; ones less serious, less perfect, but even better than the first.

Sam dates them all with a sharpie on the white boarder. One will go in the family photo album, the others to be tucked away into wallets and jacket pockets and personal picture frames. Cas snags the one where Dean is looking up at him instead of the camera, completely focussed on his boyfriend. He’s always liked Dean best in the moments that he is unaware of being watched, that’s when he’s the the most beautiful, the most Dean. 

He blushes hard at the picture, but allows Cas his indulgence. 

They get through a lot of food and about two and a half movies before people start to wind down for the night. Lying down for long periods of time is guaranteed to mean that the baby starts up a gymnastics routine, and Eileen lets Jack watch until going to the bathroom becomes imminently required. Her getting up makes everyone else realise that going to bed is a good idea, so they end up switching off the film halfway through and clearing up a little. At least taking the food back to the kitchen so it doesn’t go stale and inedible overnight, stinking up the Den for the foreseeable future (it happens far too often). 

Cas takes Jack to bed, even though he’s God and 1) doesn’t actually need to sleep and 2) probably doesn’t need his (kind of) father to tuck him in. However, his delight at discovering that theyve put sheets on his bed that match his pjs reminds Cas that Jack may be a cosmic being of unfathomable power, but he is still his son. 

“Thank you, Castiel. This is the best Christmas Eve ever, much better than last year because you’re here.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Jack.”

“It’s difficult being human,” Jack says suddenly. “Even being partly human is tough, and I think you’re doing a great job.”

Cas cracks his knuckles, a new nervous habit that he’s picked up. “Thank you. It gets better everyday, easier; I miss my old self less.”

Jack pats his chest. “I’m taking good care of your Grace, don’t you worry.”

“I have no doubts about that,” Cas smiles, only slightly wistful. There have been many days that he’s wanted to ask Jack for it back, mostly days when Dean gets injured and he cannot do more than silly little human remedies. But it’s better this way. Living a human life with Dean, it’s right. It’s what they both deserve. He hugs Jack tightly before he leaves. “Goodnight, Jack. Merry Christmas.”

On the way back to his and Dean’s room, Cas meets Eileen, a spoon in her mouth. He raises his eyebrows and she puts a finger to her lips.

“Cranberry jam,” she admits. “At least my cravings are seasonally appropriate!”

“I’m not telling if you’re not.”

She winks. “Thanks for making Dean put the pjs on.”

“He loves it really.”

“Not as much as he loves you,” she says it so casually and Cas feels his face burn. “Still?”

“It takes some getting used to… after so long…”

She nods and pulls him into a hug, her bump pushing him away as much as her arms pull him in. The baby kicks against him, a clear foot making contact with his side, which is still surreal to feel to say the least. Before Eileen’s pregnancy, the only time he’d been allowed to touch a pregnant belly was when Kelly put his hand on Jack. It took some getting used to, processing the fact that there was a little person in there, growing and becoming, and in a matter of weeks, it would be out here with the rest of them. 

“Strong.” 

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “Sleep is getting pretty impossible. But it’s good, strong is what we want.”

“Your child could be nothing less.”

It’s Eileen’s turn to blush. The impending motherhood nerves have been getting harder to handle lately; every time she gets a good kick to the ribs, she’s reminded that there is a real baby in there, and soon it will be in her arms and she’ll have to raise it and make sure that she doesn’t mess them up. She can do that, right? Even though she and Sam lost their parents to hunting, they can do better, right? They can find the balance. The idea of going out on a hunt while her baby sits at home waiting for her makes her heart ache, but she cant imagine never hunting again… Maybe she’ll fall in love with the Men of Letters like Sam and she’ll be happy with researching, perhaps be a consultant like Dean’s considering, but somehow, it doesn’t feel right yet. There’s still so much to prove: that you can be a badass Hunter as a woman, as a Deaf person, and soon, as a mother. But would she really risk losing her family just to prove a point? After everything Sam and Dean went through to make sure she got to live her life at all? There’s so much unknown, but as long as she has this family around her, she can face anything.

“We should get to bed. Merry Christmas,” she goes up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and then disappears into her and Sam’s bedroom. 

The quiet of the Bunker is soothing, even though Cas isn’t often up late enough to be the only one - he can never say no to falling asleep in Dean’s arms - he enjoys the solitude. It’s different from being actually alone. He knows that behind the doors, his family slumber peacefully, able to relax and dream of good, hopeful things. The existential horror of constantly fighting for your life abated, at least on a cosmic level; if the idiots around him still want to throw knives at monsters, that’s their prerogative. And he doesn’t even have to pretend to be happy with it. 

He turns off the main lights as he makes his way through the rooms, checking each one out of habit more than an actual need. Soon, he’s bathed in a gentle, colourful glow of the fairy lights, the only illumination left on. He stops by the tree, staring up at the adorned branches, his heart full of a contentment that he used to associate so solely with faith. So strangely similar: the peace he feels knowing that he is loved and that he is able to love back, and the one he felt when he followed God’s commands. But this little family, being part of it, is like a new kind of worship. Now his heart laid down before the altar of love instead of obedience - the difference is he gets something back. Now he knows that when he puts out his hand to hold his God, it will hold him back. 

What would Dean make of him thinking like this? Equating their love to something so intrinsically holy? And on Christmas, of all days. He would mock him, but only out of embarrassment, the continued belief that he is inadequate to be compared to the divine, even though Cas has never met anyone more deserving of the epithet than Dean. 

In their bedroom, Dean is already tucked in bed, reading a battered copy of We that Cas found buried in one of those chaotic secondhand book stalls. He should’ve saved it for Christmas, but Dean’s already halfway through and it gives him a little thrill to know that he did good in picking it, because he knows Dean. 

“Get lost?” He jokes without looking up from his book. “C’mere.”

Cas climbs in and under Dean’s outstretched arm, which he promptly tucks around Cas, pulling him tight into his side. He’s taken off the onsie and is in just his underwear, which is probably for the best considering how they both run hot during the night and always end up kicking the covers off even when they sleep naked. Cas presses small kisses to Dean’s side and chest, not entirely meaning to distract him from his book, but also not being unhappy with that side effect.

‘Something on your mind?” Dean asks playfully. “Could give you an early present, if you like.”

“Mmmm?” He moves up to Dean’s collarbone and throat, sucking a little at the soft flesh, but not quite hard enough to leave a mark. “What kind of present?”

“One you only get if you’ve been good this year.”

“And if I’m on the naughty list?”

Dean looks surprised at Cas’ reply, usually he takes a bit of warming up when it comes to their role-plays. “We- We could go through all the bad things you’ve done… See if can’t figure something out.”

“I think that’s for the best.”

It’s silent in the Bunker. But not empty, not even close. It waited patiently. As it always does. For those who were meant to find it, did. They always do. And for the first time in many years, for the first of many years:

The Winchesters are home for Christmas. 

[writerfangirlbooks]

The Spy

Castiel x Reader Prompt: Reader is a mortal who is being blackmailed into working for Crowley and goes to a dance where you meet the angel Castiel, who wants to help you. Y/h = your height.

Word Count: around 2270

Credit to gif owner!

You had made a mistake. You wanted to protect your kid sister and ran into someone who promised help. You were desperate and made a deal. Now your ten years are up, but Crowley didn't want you to die yet. He believed you two had grown as chums, so he kept you around. You were thirty by now, but only visited your sister a few times a year. Crowley had kept you away from the Winchester brothers; he didn't want you in the way of the cross-fire. Now you were at a very formal dance, undercover, to find information from the brothers.

"And remember, pet," Crowley said. "Find out the location, any allies, and times. Those are the main priorities. Do whatever it takes."

You nodded and got ready. A slim black dress, heels, and a small purse that held weapons, such as pepper spray and knives. You had never considered fighting Crowley. After all, he was the King of Hell. When you met, he was a crossroads demon in a bar. You knew his power, his strength. You wouldn't defy him. You didn't necessary like all the missions he would send you on, but there wasn't much you could do about it.

Crowley dropped you off at the entrance. You scanned the building before going inside. A butler took your purse and you noticed where he laid it, for future reference. Crowley had given you a brief description of the two brothers: "Moose is the younger one. Long hair. Squirrel is shorter. More rebellious." That was all you had to go off of, besides their names. What would two hunters be doing at a dance anyways? You wondered.

Immediately, you caught about the attention of a dozen men, along with a few ladies. You strolled through, feigning confidence, and waited in the corner and caught a man fumbling with coins in the bar to the right. You immediately went to help him. You bent on a knee and picked up the quarters and nickels. He let out a sigh of relief as you dropped the money into his hands. You stood and studied each other.

"Thank you," the man said with half of a smile. He had messy brown hair and the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen. He was in a suit and there was a trench coat draped over the chair he was seated in.

"You're welcome," you said quickly, shaking his hand. The man stared at you with curiosity and you hoped he couldn't tell that you were meant to be dead. He kept hold of your hand a moment too long, but you also didn't pull away immediately either. "My name is Y/N. It is nice to meet you..." You trailed off. He continued staring into your y/e/c eyes.

"I am Agent Robert Stark," he said. His voice appeared naturally low, but not necessarily deep. "I'm here for the case of Martha Jones, a woman who died a few nights ago. Would you happen to know anything about her?"

You shook your head, almost wishing you had lied and said you did, just so you could continue talking to him. You enjoyed his voice, but knew you had to continue on. "I can't say that I have, sorry."

Agent Stark nodded thoughtfully and pulled a business card out of his pocket, where you saw the flash of the FBI card, and handed it to you. "Would you let me know if you hear anything?"

You nodded numbly and mumbled an "of course". You had met with FBI when you were younger in a case when you were working with the government, before your sister got sick. That was definitely not one of those badges. You wandered over to your purse and stuck the card in there, planning on delivering it to Crowley later. The 'detective' was no doubt attractive, but that didn't mean you could trust him. You really loved life. You would always give it up for your sister, but that didn't mean you wanted to die.

Merging through the crowds of people, you found yourself on the dance floor alone. You swayed with a couple men, who didn't fit the description. You searched, but still didn't find anyone that even slightly resembled the Winchesters. Out of seemingly nowhere, Stark appeared in front of you, almost trying to block something.

"Um, would you dance with me?" He asked. You replied with a hesitant "sure". He took your right hand and intertwined it with his. The other hand was placed on your waist. You almost tripped over his feet at his touch. He seemed nervous, which definitely should have made you suspicious. There was not a reason a good looking agent like him should be nervous. Then again, he wasn't a real agent.

"I did not mean to urgently request this dance. I didn't want you to appear alone... It seemed to be that there is a man watching you. He in the middle of the northern area in a blue suit. I thought I should warn you," Robert Stark said. You peaked over his shoulder and saw Jonson, Crowley's right hand demon. You stiffened instantly. Whether Crowley had sent him to watch you or to inform you on something new, you weren't sure.

"Thank you," you flashed him a false smile. "That wasn't necessary, however. We work together."

The agent's face grew immediately into surprise. "Oh! I was unaware. Y/N, I apologize if it seems like I was-"

"It's not a problem, agent. Thank you for the dance. I will let you know if I hear anything about Martha." You dropped his hand reluctantly as the song came to a draw and walked away. He stayed for a moment longer, the touch of your soft hand lingering on his. You felt it too and swallowed as you walked towards Jonson. You crossed your arms and tried to appear displeased at his arrival, when he actually frightened you. The King of Hell didn't scare you as much as Jonson did. Crowley had never tried to actually hurt you before.

He raised his eyebrows and his lips formed a cocky smirk. There was a navy scarf wrapped around his pale neck, which was the only reason he stood out. His suit was stolen, but came from a very expensive store. He was handsome physically, which is why you had tried befriending him all those years ago. Jonson played along at first, then showed how demon's truly were: completely apathetic. Aside from Crowley, who had a sliver of emotions thanks to the Winchesters, who you still needed to find. Jonson didn't take lightly to the word 'no', which you were confident enough to say, even to a demon. That didn't stop the cruel things that he did to you. You saw him less and less, thankfully, after things were finally done between you two. That didn't stop him from being completely arrogant when he was around you. You had no idea if Crowley noticed the bruises you had tried to cover or not, but it didn't really matter. You were here on a job and he wasn't going to mess that up.

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly, meeting his dark eyes after a moment. Jonson towered over you menacingly and you had to resist the urge to run.

"Crowley wanted me to let you know that you need to report back to him no later that midnight," Jonson answered, scanning the people around, presumably to see if there was anyone he could try to either persuade into a deal, kill for fun, or anyone whose time is almost up.

You couldn't help but retort. "Why, were you the last one available?" He narrowed his eyes, which meant yes. You knew not to do anything else, so you said, "If that's all... Thank you for letting me know. You can leave now," you told him. His smirk grew and he stretched, forcing you to step back. He responded, "I think I'll stay for a while. What have you found so far, talking with the angel?"

"Excuse me?" You questioned. Jonson tilted his head. His brow furrowed and he said, "The one you were dancing with. That cover wasn't too horrible, I must admit. Pretending to be nice and collect his money. He must be with the Winchesters, though I don't see them anywhere."

You realized you had been talking for a good five minutes and looked around, though the only eyes on you were Jonson's dead brown ones. You moved your right foot anxiously. Your scar rubbed against the back of your heel. You had Jonson to thank for that; he had been experimenting in new ways to torture and you had no way to escape. You were mortal, after all. But Agent Stark... not an agent, but an angel? That was the more difficult part to process. You wondered if he knew that you were working for Crowley and if it was a plot to get you and Jonson together.

"Hey," his voice hardened and Jonson reached out and grabbed your arm. "I was talking to you." You tried stepping away and moving your arm back, but the demon was a lot stronger than you. You mumbled towards him, telling him to let you go, which of course didn't happen. The angel was suddenly next to you and pushed Jonson away. The sudden impact made you fall backwards onto the fake agent. He caught and steadied your body, even on the heels.

"I believe she asked you to let her go," the angel said, his blue eyes glowing. You stepped back, out of his way. The angel had a grip on Jonson, whose face for the first time was filled with terror. You assured yourself you wouldn't get hurt. Crowley could break your extra time in less than a snap of his fingers, but at least Jonson wouldn't be able to hurt you anymore.

People began casting weird looks your way. You tugged on the angel's sleeve. "Leave him. People are staring," you whispered. He turned back to you and Jonson slouched against the wall. The blue-eyed angel took your hand and jogged you to the exit. You two stood outside. You took a minute to catch your breath as the angel continued his focus on where the demon was, as if threatening him to come over here.

"Thank you," you said after a moment. "Why did you do that?"

"Do you mean save you? I had to. Do you know what that person was? I shouldn't have even let you walk over there," said the angel. He made it sound like it was his duty to protect mortals against demons, unless he just saw Jonson, 6'7, gaining up on you, only y/h.

"Jonson is a demon. Tell me who you really are," you demanded, nearly in a whisper. You were shaking by now as you observed the angel. Time was ticking by. There was just less than an hour before you had to tell Crowley what you had found out, which at this point, was absolutely nothing. Jonson could be running to him right now, telling him any lies he could possibly dream up.

The angel saw you trembling. He took your hands in his. "My name is Castiel. The only reason I came was because my friends... Sam and Dean... had an emergency hunt. They said that I could find what they needed here. Please, tell me, why did you walk to him? Why engage in conversation?"

You didn't want to, but you let go of Castiel's hands. They were so warm and protective around yours. You couldn't lead him on like that, for multiple reasons. You knew he would be able to detect your lies, so you settled for the truth.

"You're right. I shouldn't have. But I wasn't wrong when I said we worked together. I also was here for information," you lowered your eyes, almost shamefully.

Castiel froze and you felt your whole body shake and tried swallowing down the pain. "You work for Crowley?" He paused and blinked. "What information could you have needed from here?"

"It was about the Winchesters. They were supposed to be here. He sent me here to find out where they were staying, who they were working with, and when. He sent the demon to tell me when to let him know when I found out, which is in forty minutes now. Look, I know you probably think how ridiculous I am. I wanted to keep my sister alive, so I made a deal. It's been three months past my due date. I'm just doing what I can, okay?" You sniffled. It was forty degrees outside and you were in a skin-tight dress with a thin strap. Castiel noticed and took off his trench coat, wrapping it around your shoulders. "Hell, I can't believe you're an angel."

Castiel frowned. He hesitantly put an arm around you for warmth. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I'm supposed to be a spy and I couldn't figure that out." You let out a weak laugh and looked up at the angel. He bent down and kissed you. Your hair began to get messed up, the way he would hold you. You knew you didn't have much time. However, standing here in an angel's coat... kissing him. That felt right.

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[19mrs-barnes17]

Partners in Life

[credit : @19mrs-rogers18​]

Summary: You are the daughter of Jody Mills and marrying Dean Winchester

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Mills!reader

Warnings: fluff? 

Word count: 1,887

A/N: Just one of my many daydreams put into a fic. Enjoy!

~

Dean Winchester. Your partner in crime, almost quite literally, and your favorite human being on the planet. He was the person who kept you going, who motivated you to be a better person and help people. Though he wasn’t the reason you found hunting, he was the reason you had a safe place and arms to hold you when the job got rough. He was your shoulder to cry on and your closest confidant, and you were his. There was no doubt in your mind that you love him with all that you are, and would gladly follow him into the flames. You knew he would follow you to hell and back, though that seemed to be more of a supply run type of typical at this point. He trusted you with his whole being and you trusted him. So when he got down on one knee and produced a ring from his pocket you instantly knew your answer. He was the only person for you and you couldn’t believe you had found him. The life you led didn’t really leave room for dating anyone who wasn’t a hunter. Your options were slim but you never imagined he would be amongst them. 

“Hey love, so our mothers are sort of throwing a hunter wedding for us and apparently we have no say in whether it happens.” The words flew from your lips at a rather frightening speed and left Dean speechless. “Something about being outvoted.”

“There’s two of them and two of us. How are we…”

“I asked the same thing. No comment.” You raised your brow and sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It seems we have a traitor in our midst.”

Two sets of eyes scanned the room where Cas and Sam sat absentmindedly flipping through books and scrolling through news feed. Jack was likely in his room playing some sort of new video game he had discovered. But which one was the vote? Or were they all votes?

“I’ll take Sam you take Cas?” Dean nodded and you set off to interrogate his brother, who sat in a world of his own with his eyes glued to a screen. You closed his laptop and hoisted yourself onto the table before him, brows raised expectantly. “What have you done Samuel?”

“I don’t know, what?” Sam’s expression was a mix somewhere between confused and amused, brow furrowed as he stared into your eyes. 

“Don’t play games with me Winchester. I know you sided with your mother.” You jokingly pointed accusingly at him, a smirk forming on his lips. “What?”

“I didn’t do it. But I'm glad someone did, you two deserve some sense of normalcy.” Determining Sam was not the vote you pushed off the table and made your way to Dean who had just finished talking to Cas. One shake of his head and you were left with only one option.

Jack sat on his bed, headphones on and deeply invested into whatever game he was trying to beat. When you knocked he pulled down his headset to rest around his neck, a beaming smile on his face.

“This game is excellent! Thank you for the recommendation. This Witcher is most grumpy, kind of like Dean.” You chuckle softly before sitting yourself on the end of his bed.

“I’m glad. Now, I need to know if you were the one who voted for the wedding.” You were surprised when he shook his head, and stared at Dean with confusion in his eyes.

“Do you know who did?” He nodded, smile growing even wider before pointing at Dean and placing his headphones back over his ears. “Et tu brute?”

You followed Dean into the hall, perplexed at his sudden interest in a wedding. When you had discussed the possibility before you had expressed your lack of desire for a big wedding. Dean had shared the desire to keep everything small and even lightly suggested elopement. Now, now you were having a wedding filled with hunters, in the woods, a wedding dress and all. It certainly wasn’t what you had expected from life, not considering the job description.

“You could’ve just told me you wanted one, I’m okay with that you dummy.” He chuckles softly at you wrapping his arms around your waist, muttering how it was a surprise. “So if you weren’t interrogating Cas what did you talk about?”

“I told him that if not for Sam he’d be my best man, but since the position is filled he can be a groomsman.” You faked a flinch, earning an eye roll and a smirk from Dean in the process. “He’s honored, his words not mine.”

“Well crap that means I need a Maid of Honor for Sam and a bridesmaid for Cas. Making me socialize, the audacity.” A kiss and he’s down the hall on his way to the kitchen to whip up a few hamburgers. 

A few calls later and you are completely ready to not socialize for weeks, but you still haven’t found anyone to fill your slots. Sam makes a suggestion that has you both teasing him and cursing at yourself for not thinking of it first. Eileen. She was the perfect Maid of Honor, the two of you got a lot quite well and had hunted together on several occasions. It also didn’t hurt that she and Sam were head over heels for one another. One call later and she’s on board, absolutely embarrassed by the pairing.

“Any luck beautiful?” Dean set a plate before you, sitting in the adjacent chair with his own burger.

“Sam is walking down the aisle with Eileen. Not in the way we would hope, but close enough.” Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head at the image. “Still stuck on someone to walk with Cas.”

“What about that friend of yours? The one who specializes in werewolves.” Tara! You had nearly forgotten about her, you hadn’t had contact in ages. She wasn’t exactly your bestie but you trusted her to be on your side in a fight. 

“Hey Tara I have an unbelievable favor to ask” Her brows raise and she stares expectantly into the camera. “It’s not about hunting. I need a bridesmaid for my wedding.”

“Your what?” Stares at her screen flabbergasted, unable to form any words for several minutes. “Who’s the lucky bastard?” You turned the screen to reveal a hungry Dean shoving the remainder of his burger into his mouth. “Dean Winchester? You’re marrying Dean Winchester?”

“I know, it’s crazy. I can’t believe it myself sometimes.” She smiles softly watching your face light up as you recount what she missed. “So, can I count on you?”

“Oh most definitely chica. I have never heard of a hunter wedding ever happening, especially not between two of the top hunters in the country. This is like our royal wedding, plus I’d never miss seeing you actually put on a dress.” You roll your eyes and laugh, it was true you were usually not the type for dresses or makeup. 

A few minutes more and you’ve achieved your goal, you are finally able to eat your meal before Dean has the chance to sneak some of it. He smiles softly at you as he opens up his laptop and you once again are lost in the dream of the moment. You were marrying Dean Winchester, very soon.

***

A fluttering in your chested amped the excitement and nerves that you were feeling as you prepared yourself to walk down the aisle with your mother. Seeing her in her violet dress was a stark contrast from the sheriff uniform you had grown up with in Sioux Falls. She was beaming at you with complete and utter pride, eyes already tearing up just looking at you in white. 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. I wish your dad could see how far you’ve come and all the good you’ve done.” She wipes a stray tear from her cheek before linking arms with you. “He’d be so proud of his little girl.”

“Oh, mom.” Now you were tearing up, thinking of your father and little brother for the first time in months.

“C’mon, we Mills girls gotta get our crap together. It’s showtime.” She smiled softly at you before turning to watch the path before you.

“Yes ma’am, you got it Sheriff Mills.” Your mom nudges you with her shoulder and chuckles, leading you down the marked aisle.

When you raise your eyes from the grass and land them on what seemed like the only other person in the room you nearly broke down right then and there. The tightness is your chest loosened and you felt like you were walking on air. It was silly but staring into his teary green eyes made you dead certain he was the only person you ever wanted to share your life with. No other would suffice. The way he looked at you was like being told you were the only thing in the world worth a damn to him. It felt like a comforting embrace that you never wanted to leave.

He held your hands and whispered that you looked like, and pardon his cheesiness, an angel. To which Castiel concurred, though he believed you were what angels should strive to be and not the other way around. Your heart was swelling with love and happiness as you stood before your fellow hunters, your friends, and your family with the man you were hopelessly in love with. When he kissed you everything else blurred and silenced, the beating of your heart and the taste of his lips were all you knew. Nothing else mattered 

When you cut the cake you knew he’d try to smear it on your face so you beat him to the punch, taking a frosting covered finger to his nose. You giggled mischievously, eyes twinkling as you stared into his forest green eyes. He was so quick to coat your nose as well, you nearly didn’t catch his arm. You pushed his frosting covered fingers onto his face and saw the camera flash out of the corner of your eye. 

“Cheat.” The smile on his face was the brightest you had ever seen, it warms your heart and distracts you from his sneak attack. A small glob of frosting resting on your nose in a mere instant. You gasped dramatically before swiping it off and eating it, too much frosting was being wasted for your liking.

“Now we eat this sucker.” You lead your husband to the head table and begin to dig into the delicious marble cake. “Oh by the way, my aunt made her famous chocolate pie for just us.” 

“Oh hell yes. Best day ever.” He practically moans as he scarfs down his slice of cake. 

“Wow, I’m on the same level of awesome as pie? I’m flattered.” Dean cups your cheek and kisses you tenderly.

“Oh you’re a tier above pie.” You playfully shove his shoulder before resting your forehead against his and sigh. “I love you Y/N Winchester.”

The sound of your new last name brings a smile to your face, it was one of many in a new series of firsts. He was your husband now, but he was already your partner in life.

“I love you Dean Winchester.”

~

Tags: @qtmeryr​ @broken-hearted-barnes​

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[k-s-morgan]

Hello! I adore your writing and your way of talking about obsessive relationships. The world choice in your works is amazing and I get very sucked into the characters. Any good obsession fics or pairings I should know about?

Hello! Thank you so much, I’m happy to hear this!)) With obsession, I don’t think I’ll be able to offer anything new, so I’ll just make brief mentions of most of my ships (since they all have this element) and list some key obsession stories)) I’ll start with non-canonical ones and proceed from there. 

But first: if you’re interested in original fiction, this series is deliciously long and focused on dark romance and obsession. Alessandra Hazard is also a great writer, though her stories are lighter. This and this ones are particularly great, imo. The second one also has considerable power imbalance. Now, on to the ships and obsessive fics.

1)      Tom/Harry. I already provided a list of my favorite fics here, almost all of them have an obsessive element (it goes with the territory! :D)

2)      Snape/Harry. One of my most favorite stories focusing on dark romance and crazy obsession ever, not just based on ships, is Desiderium Intimum. It’s originally written in Polish, I participated in the translation but had to drop it eventually. However, the story itself is finished and it’s easy to read the remaining chapters through one of online translators. This is what I did (since I don’t know Polish), and the impact was absolutely amazing and powerful anyway. Harry might come across as weak at first, but it’s understandable due to the circumstances, and he matures a lot. Crazy jealousy, obsession, possessiveness, passion, it has everything.

3) Will/Hannibal… there is no point in offering any links since I don’t know a story about them where obsession wouldn’t be present :D However, I have a weakness for Omegaverse Bright Hair Above the Bone, it’s a work of art.

Firenze is a creepy, beautiful AU: obsessive Hannibal with power and student Will with issues of his own.

Odalisque along with connected Time Stamps is a very long, very crazy dark (and complete!) AU story that is probably even more obsessive than the show itself. It has lots of sex (which I’m usually not a fan of), but it’s hot and the relationship itself is outstanding, obsessive/possessive, and beautiful. In short: Will is a hooker who enjoys murdering his clients; Hannibal is a client who enjoys murdering the hookers he hires. They still fall in love — eventually.    

4)     Merlin/Arthur. Obsession and unhealthy devotion are the foundation of this relationship, so if you haven’t watched this show, I definitely recommend it. I thought it was rather childish and light at first, but it’s not, and slowly and gradually, it turns into a heartbreaking but hopeful tale of self-destructive, obsessive love. My favorite story is probably Rheged. Obsession is strong in it, but it likely won’t make much sense to those who haven’t watched the show. A modern story is Now I Will Unsettle the Ground Beneath You: lots of obsession that neither side can fight.

5) Sebastian/Ciel from Black Butler anime. While the relationship is not canonically romantic, it has lots of subtext and these two are utterly obsessed with one another. My favorite modern AU story is Fool Me Twice. It has many triggers, it’s unhealthy as hell, but it’s great. I can’t find any copies available, so if anyone needs one, just PM me. Here’s the description (not mine, taken from here): Sebastian catches a glimpse of Ciel at an airport and instantly becomes an obsessive stalker. Eventually he gets his hands on Ciel but Ciel easily turns the tables on him. He blackmails Sebastian into becoming his butler (read: slave), using Sebastian’s obsession with him to his advantage. Deliciously twisted mind games ensue.

I also love The Service of the Demon. I didn’t finish translation, but the original is finished and can be translated via Google. It’s dark and full of obsession that grows into love.

Persona is my favorite post S2 story with dark and obsessive Sebastian (although it might not look this way at first).

6)      Brian/Justin from American QAF. It’s more ordinary and grounded relationship, but it does have an aspect of obsession. It’s unhealthy, intense, and romantic. Unfinished Wedlocked is a Royal AU that you could read without watching the show — from what I recall, it’s dark and obsessive. 

7) Dean/Castiel. Hautley’s Bend: a complete story, totally AU, so you don’t need to know anything about it. Obsession is amazingly portrayed, and the relationship is very complex. 

[xfanfics]

Destiel Fic Rec List Part 7

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity.  Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 39 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

Bare Your Throat and Have Me by highermagic E | 4k | AU, PWP,  a/b/o

Castiel and Dean have only been mated for a few months, but Dean knows how this goes by now.

Deterioration by highermagic E | 33k | Hot,  AU, Cop!Dean, Mystery

Dean has a gift – he can see things. Things that others wouldn't see, motive and calm control between the splatters of blood and fractured mirrors. He solves crimes others simply can't. When bodies are piling up all around him, Dean starts to feel as though he's drowning in it, falling under the weight of his own helpless observations, until he finds something unbreakable. Unwavering. Castiel – if only the man was as good for him as he appears.

Try Something Tuesday by almaasi E | 48k | Fluff, Teacher AU, Librarian Cas

Human AU. Dean Winchester teaches a third-grade class. He's new to this whole ‘bisexual’ thing - but by pure happenstance, he meets Castiel: a particularly dapper male librarian who moonlights as a substitute teacher. Dean's curious and Castiel is willing, so why the hell not? Except, fate never intended it to be one-time-only.

Angel-Cuffed by Luciel89 E | 15k | CANON!verse

Dean wakes up to find himself handcuffed to his angel. Both are annoyed, Sam finds it hilarious and awkward situations await them. But the longer they're tied together, the more things between them start to change...

The Bet List ❤ by StevieCas M | 55k | Fluff,  AU, Underage, wing!kink

"That bet list was the worst thing you've ever come up with, Gabe. If it wasn't for it, I would never have thought about such things. It's bad enough being an earthbound angel, it's bad enough being considered a weirdo even by angel standards. Did I have to be gay as well? Do I even represent a minority or is it just me out there?

I love the world of this fic--and Dean and Cas' relationship dynamic is perfect.    

Ad Astra ❤ by nhixxie T | 17k | Angst

One day Cas says, "Stars died for you, Dean Winchester", against ruffled hair perched atop sun kissed skin and sleepy eyes. Dean stirs, moving to spread his palms against the contour of Cas’ back, tips of fingers languidly strumming the indentations of his spine. One, two, three, four, he counts, the closest he could get to scientifically studying the anatomy of the human body. "Is this some physics crap again?" He frowns with eyes closed. Cas smiles softly. "Far from it. "Dean’s fingers play at the base of his back, ninth thoracic vertebrae, Cas notes. "Then tell me all about it.”

Read it and weep. If this were published, I would buy it.    

Sensitive by nevergotwings E | 1k | wing!kink

Curiosity sparks when Dean gets the urge to touch Castiel's wings.

An Exercise in 'Worthless' ❤ by beastofthesky

M | 26k | AU, Tattoos

"I mean, you’re–" He gestures at Cas, in his neat oxford shirt and nice pants. “–and I’m a high school dropout who tattoos for a living." Wherein Dean makes a hefty living as a tattoo artist who owns the space next to Gabriel's cafe. Sam attends the local university. When Gabe's cousin comes to live with him while starting grad school at Sam's university, Dean thinks for sure that all his negative karma's coming to bite him in the ass because Cas clearly has a thing for Sam. No one would ever choose him over Sam. That's just logic.

Perfection everywhere. Dean's lack of self-worth is explored, and there are tattoos.    

Of ties and wings by perpetuallycaffinated E | 4k | Hot,  PWP, wing!kink

Jealousy, ties and and impatient angel. Also, wings.

pie | by perpetuallycaffinated E | 3k | Hot,  PWP

Dean uses pie to eat out Castiel. That's pretty much it.

I Say, But I Mean by inplayruns T | 4k | Coffee Shop AU

Dean runs a bed & breakfast. Cas works in a coffeeshop.

Heavenly Delights by TamrynEradani T | 2k | Fluff, Coffee Shop AU

Gabriel owns Heavenly Delights, the coffee shop Cas works at and on the day before Thanksgiving, Cas sees someone looking down so he brings him a hot chocolate, and Gabriel conspires to get them together.

New Eyes by ozzutly E | 1k | Canon!Verse

Dean sees Castiel's true form. He decides he likes it.

Resonance by definitely_indecisive G | 1k | Canon!Verse, Soul Bond

The battered and abused presence had poked warily out, almost as if expecting harm. He let his grace drift forward to meet the soul instantly, putting off all of the warmth he could muster. The presence seemed to stutter for a second, before melding itself into Castiel's grace. He allowed the soul to do so, cradling it with his core. He could feel the tiredness and abuse from the poor thing, yet also the amazing light it gave off as it started to slowly heal because of his grace. He could tell this was the most unique soul he had ever met, and that he wouldn't forget the feeling of the presence for all of millennia.

My Roots Take Flight by KismetJeska M | 125k | Reverse!verse, s4 AU

After forty years in Hell, Dean’s more than willing to accept the offer: become a guardian angel and earn his freedom. But his new ward seems destined to hunt alongside Sam, and there are secrets in Heaven that the angels don’t want found out. Dean’s going to have to choose between his duty and the people he loves- and to work out just where Castiel fits in.

Angel Airlines by dancingloki E | 19k | Hot, Airline AU

Dean is an airline pilot with a raging hard-on for his head flight attendant. Fluffy fluffy fluff.

El Tango de Amor by literaryoblivion E | 16k | AU, Fluff,  Angst,

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Dean leaves, is gone for two to three hours, and comes home sweaty and exhausted to the apartment he and his brother Sam share. Sam had asked him where he went once, and Dean had said he was working out, which technically wasn’t a lie. What he was doing was definitely giving him a workout, just not in the traditional sense. In all actuality though, Dean was leaving every Tuesday and Thursday for a dance class. A dance class taught by a one Castiel Novak.

Ugly Sweater!Verse ❤ ❤ by nerdylittledude E | 193k  | Canon!verse,Fluff,  Post s5

If they really go back and think about it... it all started with a tree. A Christmas tree, that is. Castiel is human now, and the apocalypse is not only over, it's been averted. Sam's away at NYU, finally finishing law school, and Dean's stuck in what is probably the most awkward situation of his life. He's not exactly sure how he ended up sharing a flat with Cas in Media, Pennsylvania, but he does know the curious would-be angel is sort of derailing his plans for a life of decadence and booze. Cas is trying to make the best of his humanity by exploring human holidays. Dean can't exactly complain because he's pretty much the reason Cas got his wings clipped in the first place. Dean didn't actually want to fall in love, but how was he supposed to know it would all start with a goddamn tree?

 My favorite fic ever. I don't know how many times I've read it. There is switching, fluff, angst, and slow building romance. I will rec this forever.    

More Than Alien Mojo by remivel

E | 29k | Men in Black AU, Fluff,

Dean was one of Men in Black's best agents. In fact, he's been knee deep in extraterrestrial crap his whole life, and he's gone through more apocalypses than he could care to remember. He thought he's seen it all-- until he and his partner, Sam, were sent out to a routine meteorite crash inspection. What was supposed to be a meteorite turned out to be a golden spaceship, and instead of hitchhiking intergalactic pathogens, it was an alien that took the form of a human male. A very naked human male. Soon, they discovered that this alien named 'Castiel' was a refugee from a war-torn galaxy.The first of his kind to ever venture to Earth, Castiel agreed to share information about his galaxy and his race in exchange for his relocation on Earth. The only catch was: since Castiel was a new alien species, nobody knew what he was capable of, whether he was as harmless as E.T., or as dangerous as the Predator. And it was Dean's job to keep an eye on him and assess just how much of a threat Castiel could be, and if necessary, eliminate him. It wasn't a job Dean was looking forward to doing. Especially since he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off him, naked or not.

Come On With the Rain by remivel E | 36k | High School AU, dubcon

When Castiel was 15, his life changed. In one tragic instant, he lost his parents, and he was forced to live with his Uncle Bobby in Lawrence, Kansas. There he met the Winchester boys, Sam and Dean, who were living next door. He thought Sam was pleasant, and Dean, well, Dean was special. Three years passed and Castiel’s relationship with the boys developed in an unexpected way. Sam became his best friend. But Dean was a different story. Dean was not Castiel’s friend. He was a neighbor, a classmate, the brother of Castiel’s best friend, and the guy who worked part time at his uncle’s salvage yard. That was all. But on the rare times that Dean asked Castiel for help, Castiel couldn’t find it in him to turn him down. Because this was Dean. And the answer would never be “no” when it came to Dean.

Crossroads State by Mercy M | 51k | AU

Castiel has a nice predictable structured life teaching high school, even if he happens to be overqualified for it. Then this guy moves in around the corner and literally knocks him on his ass.

Heart of Glass by omphalos E | 17k | Canon!Verse

He's the one who was punished, severely, because of his feelings for Dean, but who still gave up everything for him in the end. Surely there should exist between them a better level of comprehension than this.

Domesticated by kototyph E | 15k | AU

Being the only angel in the entire Pacific Northwest can be tiring, even if these days Castiel spends more of his time shoveling manure than fighting off the hordes of hell. It's an occupational hazard, unfortunately; he earns most of his living rehabilitating wild animals a few miles outside Spokane. Wild animals like Dean, for instance— a mountain lion who's entirely too smart for his own good. There's a man in Castiel's dreams named Dean too, but that part's just a huge coincidence.

Excite by perpetuallycaffinated E | 3k | Crack, wing!kink

"Sam Winchester, I am going to carnally worship your brother whether you are in this room or not.

Snapshots 'Verse ❤ by highermagic E | 60k [WIP] | AU, Wing!kink, a/b/o, omega!dean

A series of one-shots following the meeting, courting and eventual love between an Angel doctor named Castiel and an Angel teacher by the name of Dean.

Less of a WIP, more of a series of one-shots. Rowan's worldbuilding is lovely, and the sex is perfect as usual. EDIT: Apparently this has been removed.

Angel's Wild ❤ by riseofthefallenone E | 389k | AU, H/C, Wing!kink

But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Perfection. Go read it now.    

Sharing Hands by almaasi E | 6k | Hot, Canon!Verse

Dean feels something strange when he touches himself, and realises Cas has been using him as a vessel ever since he came back from Purgatory.

The Good Samaritan Rule by manic_intent E | 6k | AU, wing!kink

Written for deancaskink: "Dean and Castiel are both angels and brothers-in-arms. During a battle, Cas's wings get hurt and [it's] up to Dean to help him out. In the process, Cas finds out how sensitive his wings are and well Dean is Dean no matter what his form [is], so this leads to lovely first time sex." God never made humans. Instead, he made the angels in his image, and on the sixth day he made the is him, and gave them free will.

How (thanks to Gabriel) Dean and Castiel (accidentally) raised each other (and Sam) ❤ by Vera_Dragonmuse E | 69k | AU, Sam/Gabriel

In which, Gabriel meddles with the time line and Castiel becomes Dean's angel rather sooner than intended.

Out of the Deep ❤ by riseofthefallenone E | 488k | AU, h/c

Stay away from the light-beds. Stay in the deep. It is the first thing hatchlings are taught the moment their fans unfurl and they can swim without their parents to buoy them along. It is the first rule, the first law. It is the beginning of every boogey-monster bedtime story told when they settle against the cliffs to sleep. Castiel should have listened better.

It's long, but worth it.    

Feathers by brightly_lit M | 90k | Angst, Wing!kink, D/s

In an alternate season 5 scenario, Dean, Sam, and twenty of their closest hunter friends stopped the apocalypse by closing the gates to heaven, hell, and purgatory. Now working with his former hunter buddies at Ellen's security company, Dean doesn't know what to make of his weird new coworker who always wears a trenchcoat and leaves behind feathers everywhere he goes. He especially doesn't know that, cut off from the power of heaven, the constantly falling feathers mean his new friend is dying. "Creation cried out against the injustice of a righteous man in hell. I answered its cry.

Vita Nuova ❤ by wordaccordingtofangirls M | 61k | Teacher AU

AU. Dean Winchester takes a job as a teaching assistant to get his little brother into a prestigious academy. He doesn't quite expect such long nights and snobby kids, but the real surprise is professor Castiel Novak: or falling in love with him, that is.

Like a Parched Land by twoskeletons E | 8k | reverse!verse

Written for the following prompt: "Reverse!verse: Castiel is the Righteous Man and Dean is the angel who drags his ass out of Hell." This is an AU version of episodes 5x01 through 5x03.

The Cabin by bookkbaby E | 16k | Canon!Verse, Wing!kink

For an angel, the building of a Nest is sacred. Dean doesn't understand. Written for the 2013 DCBB.

Pies and Prejudice by linoresearch E | 97k | AU

Dean didn’t even want to enter this damn competition. He was happy with his life, more or less. It might not look like much from the outside, or to a younger brother headed towards a big time law career, but it wasn’t so bad that Dean needed to scrabble around for any opportunity to make a change – particularly not one as stupid as this. He’s going to throttle Sam the next time he sees him, for getting him involved in this ridiculous Bake-Off TV show. It’s bad enough that Dean has to cook in front of people he doesn’t know; he now has to go through the humiliation of being judged on it too. Its humiliation piled on humiliation, and to make matters worse Dean has to play nice with all the other suckers involved, like that rich dick-bag Castiel Novak. God, he hates that guy, and he hates that someone so awful has such a frustratingly fine ass. Written for the Dean/Castiel Big Bang 2013

The Breath of All Things ❤ by KismetJeska T | 65k | AU, H/C Angst,

Dean Winchester was twenty-six years old when a car accident killed his father and left him paralysed from the waist down. A year and a half later, Dean is in a wheelchair and lives in a care home in Kansas, where he spends his days waiting to die. It's only when Castiel Novak starts volunteering at the care home that Dean starts to wonder if a changed life always equals a ruined one.

So angsty, and so, so perfect.    

All the Way ❤ by cadignan E | 81k | College AU

Castiel spends the first two weeks of college in much the same way he spent the previous years: alone with his books. He’s fine with it—he enrolled in college to learn, after all. Then in his first chemistry lab, he has the bad luck of being paired with snide, good-for-nothing Ruby, and the further misfortune of sitting behind Dean Winchester, the world’s most beautiful distraction. Ruby catches Castiel staring at Dean and makes him an offer.

Destiel, Actually by Bloodism E | 15k | Crack Fluff,

Picture your typical rom-com cliché. Now picture Dean stuck in that rom-com cliché. With Castiel. Because that's what happening to him - a crazy whirlwind of your typical-and-not-so-typical cliché's. He's playing the main lead in all of them and Castiel's his counterpart. Of course, the culprit is obvious. Gabe's enjoying himself too much, lying back on his favourite cloud with a tub of salted popcorn. It was about time someone kicked the two knuckleheads into gear.

Suburban War by squeemonster E | 100k | High School AU

Moving to Lawrence with his family is the most significant event of Dean Winchester's life. It brings a stability he's never known, and the only thing to have more of a profound impact on him is Castiel Novak: the two boys become fast friends the day they meet. But as Dean grows older, he dreams for something beyond the monotony and constraints of suburbia, and he is haunted by the inexplicable feeling that he was born for something more than what this life offers. As he struggles to reconcile the person he yearns to be with what his family and friends expect of him, a fateful choice exposes just how fragile his life in the suburbs is, and possibly risks losing the best friend he's ever had.

[klarriel]

Nimrod

Dean Winchester spends his life working two jobs to make ends meet. In the small town of Smith Center, he keeps to himself, his father's words in his head a never-ending reminder of the past he'd rather forget.

When Castiel Novak moves into Apartment 7, guitar case in tow, Dean realises that maybe life isn’t just about surviving, and sometimes all it takes is knocking a few walls down to hear the music.

A story about love, set to the soundtrack of its inhabitants.

(multi-chapter, ao3 link under cut) 

Dean knows it’s not going to be a great day the moment  he wakes up 30 minutes late, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and almost collapsing to the floor, his breaking bedframe throwing him off balance.

He doesn’t even have time to stop to complain when his key jams in the door again, but that sonofabitch Zachariah will definitely be getting a piece of his mind - that’s if he’s ever around, at least trying to pretend that he’s performing the basic duties of a landlord.

He’s on the opening shift at the shop, as he is most days. As he unlocks the doors and switches on the Harvelle’s General Store sign, illuminating the still lightening sky, he wonders if the change in the wind he feels this morning is some sort of misplaced optimism, or maybe he’s just looking forward to his weekend off. As he’s getting supplies to restock the candy shelves and a box of canned beans falls, almost hitting him on the head, and spilling its contents all over the stockroom floor, he realises it’s probably the latter.

The day is filled with the middle-aged residents of Smith Center. The men are usually looking for spare parts for their tools or household machinery. Some of the women that come in wink at him suggestively as he cashes up their items, but today he’s in a pretty crappy mood, and so most of the time he doesn’t have the patience or the willpower to play along, shooting them quick, fake smiles as he hands them their bags. When the school day ends a flurry of teenagers pours in, counting out enough coins to buy packets of Sour Patch Kids and gummy worms. One boy complains moodily that the slushy machine still isn’t working - ‘-and it’s been four weeks now! - but Dean just shrugs with an apathetic ‘ Sorry kid ’ , asking if there’s anything else he can help him with or if he’s done taking up space in his shop.

Kevin calls in sick for his shift, and so Dean begrudgingly agrees to cover until Jo comes in at 5.

When she arrives, she can barely get out a ‘Hey Dea-’ before Dean is running out, grabbing his coat and throwing up a hand in a wave. She shakes her head softly, brow furrowing and drawing her lips into a hard line as she watches Dean slide into the driver’s seat of his Impala.

‘Excuse me dear, I was wondering when you’ll next be stocking up on your canned beans?’

- - -

As he pulls up, Dean’s too engrossed in figuring out the meaning behind the flashing light on the Impala’s dashboard to notice the U-Haul parked outside his apartment block. As he gets out the car, staring down at his phone to type in the number for Billie’s Pizza Delivery, he also doesn’t notice the guitar case falling towards him

‘Oh, look out!’

Dean barely has time to look up, before the hard case smacks him on the head. He falls back a few steps, one hand catching the guitar before it falls to the ground, the other holding his head.

“Ah-!”’

Dean looks up to see a girl who can’t be much younger than Sam was the last time he saw him. A strand of her red hair that has escaped her messy bun falls to drape around her face as she bends towards him, worriedly checking over his head as she reaches to grab the case from him.

“I am so, so sorry,” she rushes out, drawing the case towards her body as they both stand, “I pulled it out and it just flew completely out of my hands. I guess I don’t know my own strength…’

She laughs nervously, and Dean gives her a short smile, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead.

“Hey, don’t worry about it” he sighs, and all he wants right now is his couch, Dr Sexy reruns on TV, a triple meat feast deep dish and a four-pack of beer, “happens to the best of us...”

Before he has a chance to escape the conversation, she smiles excitedly and nods towards his apartment building

“You don’t happen to live here do you?” She asks, biting her lip worriedly, the slight blush across her cheeks a hint of the embarrassment she was still feeling.

“Who’s askin’, you the FBI or somethin’ ?” he replies, raising his eyebrows.

She laughs, her nose crinkling.

“Nah, just want to get to know the neighbours. Me and my brother just moved into Apartment 7 today!”  She says, jostling the guitar into one hand and throwing the other out in front of her and smiling, “Anna Milton”

“Dean”, Dean replies sceptically, looking down at her and dropping the hand from his head to shake her own, “And yeah, I'm in 5.”

“Ah that’s just below us!” She smiles, before looking back at the U-Haul, still mostly full of what looks to Dean like a mix of musical equipment and cardboard boxes, “Well, I better get back to that, these boxes won’t move themselves, nice to meet you Dean!”

Dean watches her turn and grab a guitar amp with her free hand, heaving it onto the pavement. She stands and enthusiastically wipes her brow.

His dad’s voice - Never let a lady carry her own luggage -  echoes in his head.

Dean sighs. This day just gets better and better.

“You want any help with that?”

“Wow! Yes, that would be so kind of you!” Anna replies instantly, before picking up a microwave and waiting expectantly, smiling widely.

He clears his throat awkwardly, picking up the amp and the guitar that he had just been viciously attacked by, and follows her into the building.

- - -

As the door to Flat 7 creaks open, he glances around. He’s never been in another apartment in his building before - it’s kind of disturbing to see an apartment identical to his that isn’t his. The identical shelves of the kitchen alcove on the left are packed with kitchen appliances not yet stored away. A ratty maroon couch sits to the left of the main room. A rolled-up rug leans against the far wall, between the two windows looking out onto the street below. The golden glow of the evening sun streams in, basking the floor in warmth.

“You can just put them down wherever” Anna smiles, placing the microwave on the kitchen shelf, before calling out, “Cassie, I met our neighbour!”

Dean places the items down and glances towards the source of rustling noises coming from the room on the left -  judging from the layout of Dean’s apartment , the bedroom. The door is closed just enough that he can’t see who’s there. As the door opens, the golden light filtering in through the bedroom window illuminates the figure from behind, casting a shadow over them so Dean can’t see their face, but can make out through his powers of deduction that it’s a dude.

‘Oh, hello…? ” A gruff voice tinged with surprise.

“Dean!” Anna interjects, “Dean, this is my brother Castiel.”

Castiel walks over, and Dean can make out his blue eyes, and the hints of stubble covering his face topped with a mess of brown hair. He holds Dean’s gaze, his expression not quite readable.

“Hello, Dean” Castiel says, smiling slightly before his eyes drop down to linger on the items Dean has discarded on the floor beside him

“Anna!” Castiel scolds, turning to her, “Please tell me you have not shirked your responsibilities onto someone you met mere moments ago.”

She wordlessly drops her gaze to the floor, guiltily scuffing her shoe on the wooden floorboards.

Dean could get mad, especially considering the guitar-to-head incident, but if he’s honest he just doesn’t have the energy. Plus, the kid looks like she could use a break.

“It’s fine really, I was just walking in and she looked like she could use a hand,” Dean says, turning to meet Anna’s gaze, “No biggie.”

Castiel huffs out an annoyed breath, running his hand through his hair and furrowing his brow, but he smiles anyway.

“Well… thank you Dean.” he says, before rushing to pick up the items, “We really won’t keep you any longer”

Dean doesn't let himself think that Castiel looks kind.

He takes the opportunity and leaves with a wave, hearing a “Thanks, Dean!” from Anna as he walks downstairs.

- - -

Dean doesn’t see a lot of the Milton’s for a while. Every now and then he’ll bump into Anna or Castiel on the stairs, and they’ll share polite smiles but nothing over the top. Sometimes Anna will be on her phone and won’t notice him, or Castiel will be searching for something in his bag and will be too focused to shoot Dean a glance.

Six weeks go by before he enters Apartment 7 again.

His recent car repair expenses mean he’s had to pick up some evening shifts at Benny’s bar, and as he lies awake at 2 AM having only got home an hour an a half ago, he realises booking one of these shifts before a 7AM Saturday start at the store could have been a massive mistake.

In all honesty, he’s never been that great a sleeper, but the intermittent bangs and cackles, and the faint thump of bass shaking the ceiling aren’t helping at all.

He waits half an hour before he decides to drag on his dressing-gown - yes dressing gowns are extremely manly - and trudge upstairs, rubbing his hand groggily across his face. Knocking on the door, he stares at the golden 7 for a few moments until the door opens, a woosh of warm air laced with the scent of cigarette smoke and sickly sweet cherry introducing him to someone he’s never seen before. She’s shorter than Dean, with thick brunette hair and red lips curved into what looks like more of a smirk than a smile.

She leans on the door frame, studying his face for a few moments before speaking

“Well hello there Freckles,” She says, her voice a sweet drawl, although she can’t help slurring her words slightly.

Grabbing his hand, she drags Dean towards the group in the centre of the room, his protests seeming futile.

“Found a straggler outside” she announces to the group, who all look up. There are only three people, sat sprawled in a circle: Castiel, Anna, and another man Dean doesn’t recognise sit surrounded by half-full bottles and glasses, with a deck of cards distributed between the members of the group. The man smirks up at him at the same time as Castiel’s face changes from tipsy to tipsy and alarmed. Castiel, Anna and the man speak simultaneously at the sight of Dean.

“Oh my gosh Dean I am so sorry, I told them to keep it dow-”

“Well, well, well… who do we have here then?”

“DEANNNNNNNNNNNNNN!”

Exclaiming excitedly, Anna jumps up and wraps her arms around Dean, squeezing him. He has a few moments to register the embrace, sleep still not allowing him his normal reflex time, before Castiel swiftly follows her up, dragging her arms off of Dean.

“Anna!”, he whispers, looking apologetically at Dean

“Sorry folks,” Dean continues, holding his hands up, “don’t want to intrude and ruin your little get together, just wondering if you could keep the noise down a bit? I’m up early tomorrow is all”

Castiel nods emphatically, Anna just smiles brightly at Dean. The others don’t act so enthusiastically.

“So… what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” The unknown man drawls, coming to stand next to the woman, leaning on her shoulder as she lets out a chuckle.

“This is Dean!” Anna interjects, “He’s our neighbour! Well, he lives downstairs …. Dean, this is our brother Gabriel, and our friend Meg. Guys, this is Dean!”

“We get it, name’s Dean,” Meg says, smirking at him again, and he feels the unsettled pit in his stomach grow, “Pity, I so preferred Freckles.”

“My little brother hasn’t told me much about you  Dean,” Gabriel says, as Castiel walks over to the speaker to turn the volume down, glancing to look at his brother at the mention of his name, “Stud like you could be living it up in the city, why you certainly wouldn’t be out of place at a frat party - plenty of boobs n’ beer amirite ?”

He chuckles, slapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder, before tilting his head, his expression quizzical. Dean doesn’t know why he doesn’t just leave the room.

“In fact, even Kansas city has enough of that. You don’t exactly seem like a layabout, so tell me - how do you end up in a town like this? Amazing job prospects? Excellent options for first time home buyers?”

Gabriel smiles.

“Running away from something?”

Dean’s face hardens.

“Not tryin’ to be rude, “ he says, gritting his teeth, “but that’s none of your business.”

He looks at Castiel.

“Like I said, ” Dean shrugs the hand off his shoulder, feeling himself get more annoyed by the second, “try and keep the noise down.”

He walks out before he can hear any more.

Keep to yourself, stay out of trouble, don’t get attached

If this is what he’s got for neighbours, he doesn’t want anything to do with them.

Continue reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394898/chapters/64296610

[writingfromkitchenator]

Scotch and Snow

Christmas fic

Masterlist

Based on an imagine found here by @thefandomimagine

Crowley x Australian OC (Gender Neutral)

Words: 1,773

Warnings: Fluff, little bit of awkwardness and gift giving, more fluff

Normally, Crowley ignored this time of year, at least anything beyond the increase in demon deals as people decided that they wanted certain material things for their friends and family and were willing to go to any extent to do it.  He wasn’t sure what it was, but the idea of Christmas had never overly appealed to him, to him, it was mostly just a waste of time and an unnecessary reason to spend time with friends and family.

It wasn’t that there weren’t people he wanted to see, but it was more that none of them really wanted to see him, and that was something that he forced to very back of his mind.

None of them, except maybe one.

It was risky though, and he’d spent the last few days deciding whether or not he could take that risk, and whether or not it would be something that would remain unnoticed, even if he was extremely careful.

His decision wasn’t made until Christmas morning, when he received a simple text message.

I know demons probably don’t care about the holidays, but Merry Christmas Crowley.

Crowley had stared at it for a long time and knew that he had to take the risk.

Ensuring he had a few extra protections on himself, he teleported as close as he dared, his face almost instantly screwing up as the heat hit him, throwing him for a moment, feeling the sun burning at his skin almost instantly.

How could anyone stand this?

The little street was quiet, a few having Christmas decorations up, including a few including animals he certainly hadn’t seen being involved in Christmas before.  Shaking his head, he walked a little down the street and around the corner, a group of kids playing cricket in the street, uncaring if a car was to come down the street at any moment.

He knew it was a different part of the world, but he honestly hadn’t been prepared for just how different it could be.

A knock on the door to a quiet little home, not a decoration in sight, and the door was answered with a smile.

“Crowley,” Shannon said, leaning on the doorway.  “I never actually thought I’d see you in person again, at least not here.”

He shrugged it off.  “I figured, seeing as I can practically go anywhere, it would be more polite than a text in return.”

Shannon grins and steps back inside.  “Come on it, we’ll let too much cold air out otherwise.”

Crowley was more than a little relieved as the front door closed behind him, the cool air settling around him, and making him give a small sigh.  “Anyone would think you live in Hell.”

Laughing, Shannon returns to the lounge.  “There’s probably more than a few that would agree with you, but it doesn’t usually involved the torture and everything else, and it’s not actually as hot as what it can get.”

He adjusts his suit at the mere thought.  “Charming.  I can’t believe you came back.”

Shannon cast him a smile.  “It’s my home Crowley, I’m hardly going to let some weather dictate where I live.”

Crowley sits, frowning.  “I guess I’m just too used to the cold.  It was strange appearing here and just finding…heat.”

“That’s what air-conditioning is for.”  Shannon takes a drink of tea.  “And ice-cream.”

“Are you drinking?”  He asked, sounding a lot harsher than he intended to.  “Are you mad?”

“I didn’t realise there were restrictions?”  Shannon raised an eyebrow, looking amused.  “Just because it’s hot, doesn’t mean I can’t drink tea.”

Crowley stared, and then shakes his head.  “You really are backwards.”

“Welcome to Australia,” Shannon chuckled.  “I take it you saw the kangaroo sled down the street? We like to adapt things to our own little piece of paradise; you should hear some of the songs.”

“No thank you,” Crowley said.  “Maybe another time, I think I’ve taken all the difference I can for the day.”

“You did come and visit,” Shannon said.  “You had to expect something.”

Crowley looks at them and sighs after a moment.  “I did, and I hope I don’t seem too…unnerved.  I wanted to offer my own, er, Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you,” Shannon chuckled.  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say it with a certain amount of disdain to what you’ve seen.”

He opened his mouth to say something in return before taking in the living room, quickly seeing that there was no sign of Christmas seemingly anywhere around.  “Do you not celebrate Christmas?”

“I do,” Shannon nods, following his gaze.  “But I don’t see the need in showing it to the world, and with no friends or family visiting this year, I didn’t see the need to set up anything.  It always felt like a lot of effort for little return.”

Crowley watched Shannon get up, surprised.  “You’re the exception of course, never thought I’d make friends with a demon of all things, but I don’t think you mind the missing decorations.  Stay there a moment.”

Shannon disappeared from the room, leaving Crowley wondering to himself for a moment, relaxing on the lounge.  It was…oddly comfortable here, despite the scorching heat outside, and Shannon, well, was Shannon.  They’d become friends when Shannon visited America during the year, and despite working with the British Men of Letters, Shannon had been more than reasonable, even getting along easily with the Winchester’s.  It had felt like much too short a time before they returned home, and Crowley had always wondered just what it was that made Shannon so amicable.

Reappearing, Crowley was stunned to see Shannon carrying a present, and proceeding to hold it out to him.  “Merry Christmas Crowley.”

“You got me a gift?”  He asked.

Shannon smiled as he took it.  “I would’ve sent it with Sam, Dean, and Castiel’s presents, but I can guarantee they wouldn’t have given it to you, especially if they snuck a look.”

Crowley stared at them for a moment.  “You knew I would visit?”

Shrugging, Shannon gestures to the gift.  “Open it.”

He wasn’t used to gifts, so it took him a moment to look at it, the rectangular gift a little heavy, wrapped it…

“Are those meant to be Hellhounds?”  Crowley asked, amused.

Shannon laughed.  “I do have talents outside of hunting, so yes, everyone got their own custom wrapping paper.”

Crowley looks at them.  “I can’t imagine your superiors like this?”

“What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.”  Shannon drinks the rest of their tea.  “And besides, I’d like to see what they’ll do with their best agent.”

He smiles and proceeds to carefully open the present, still not entirely sure how he felt about receiving a gift, let alone one in custom wrapping paper, but he was even more stunned as he saw just exactly what it was.

It was an incredibly old and awfully expensive bottle of scotch.

“Perks of the job, before you ask,” Shannon said at his stunned expression.  “And I looked it up, you can’t actually buy this anywhere except from the rare collector that decides to sell it, which is even rarer in itself.”

“Understandable,” Crowley said, pulling out the bottle and holding it up in the light.  “Are you sure you want to give it to me?”

“Absolutely,” Shannon said.  “I know you have a taste for it, and it won’t do anything here except sit on my shelf and get even older.”

“Honestly I’m of half a mind to do that myself,” Crowley said earnestly.  “This is a lot.”

Shannon shrugs it off.  “It’s nothing.”

Crowley could see it thought, the slight embarrassment, the increase in heart rate and careful avoidance of his gaze.

“And you don’t have to give me anything,” Shannon said quickly as he goes to talk.  “That’s not the point of Christmas.  I just wanted to give you something and that’s all there is to it.”

He couldn’t help it, he smiled.  “Well, thank you, but I still feel it necessary to do something for you in return.  It would only be fair, so name it.”

There was a clear question on their features for a moment, completely unsure, but then it was gone and replaced by something else that he couldn’t quiet place.

“Well…” Shannon was a little hesitant.  “I had been hoping to be in the states for Christmas.  I’m not going to lie, it was why I jumped on the job so quickly in the first place, but there was ultimately not much I could do about being sent back home.  I love here, I do, but…”

Crowley’s hand rested on theirs, making them freeze and look at him.  “Name your price love.”

Shannon gives a soft chuckle.  “It’s going to sound ridiculous to you, I know that, but I’ve always wanted a white Christmas.”

“When you live here in this Hell like heat, I’m not surprised.” Crowley said, grinning.  “Go get something warm on.  It’s the least I can do.”

It must have been a strange sight, seeing someone walk out of their house rugged up to the hilt in this hot weather, the man with them in a black suit which also definitely wasn’t suited, but neither of them seemed to care.  Walking down the street, it was like a blink and they were gone, the thought of it soon fading from anyone who happened to see minds.

Shannon stared a little in wonder at all the white around, the temperate cold, but bearable.  Snow as starting to fall through air, and there was no missing the wide smile as they held out their hand, the small crystals landing and slowly melting away.

Crowley watched, unable to shake the smile from his lips. They joy, he had to admit to himself, was a wonder to watch, and he suddenly decided that there was nothing that he would trade this moment for, not that there was anyone he’d ever tell that to.

Shannon turned and smiled at him.  “Thank you for bringing me here Crowley.  It is…well, it’s beyond words.”

“Merry Christmas Shannon,” Crowley said, earnestly this time. “I hope this beats sitting at home drinking tea.”

Smiling and returning to Crowley’s side, Shannon takes his hand.  “Much. Will you walk with me?”

Crowley’s smiles and nods, the two of them soon walking easily through the snow, talking about everything and nothing.  The longer it went on, the easier it all felt, eventually falling into comfortable silence.  Crowley thought that if Christmas could be like this every year, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, and as much as Shannon didn’t say anything, they felt much the same.

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Lost in Words- Sam Winchester x Reader: One-Shot

Warnings: Fluff (I think that’s all)

Word Count: 2189

A/N: This is a Sam one-shot I wrote a while ago and I don’t know if it’s any good but I’m trying to upload all my work to see what everyone thinks so please let me know if you like it!

“Sam, Sam, look at this!” You yell to the tallest Winchester as you rush in the small library of the bunker.

“Whatcha got (Y/N)?” He asks, looking over to you and putting his book down.

You pull out your phone and show him the picture of one of the oldest libraries in the world.

“Wow, this place is huge!” He comments, looking at the screen.

“I know but it’s all the way in Amsterdam.” You say with a frown.

“So? We can go.” He says, your spirits lifting.

“Really? But how?” You ask.

“Well I’m down but we’d have to run this idea by Dean and if worse comes to worst, we might have to hunt for a day or so but I promise you, we’ll stop by the library.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you, Sammy!” You cheer, hugging him.

“Of course, sweetheart. Now, let’s go find Dean and tell him our plan.”

You two head out to find Dean on the complete opposite side of the bunker, a longer walk then it sounds.

“Hey, Dean, we have an idea we want to run by you.” Sam says, walking to the fridge to grab himself a beer and you a soda.

“Well, what do the book twins have planned today?” Dean asks.

“We have a trip we want to take and we think we can do both our trip and throw a hunt into the middle of it.” Sam explains.

“You two are going to have to pitch that idea a little better.”

“We want to visit this really old library in Amsterdam. They’re supposed to have all these first editions of some of the most classic novels of all time so Sam said in order for us to go, you would want to hunt.” You explain.

“Ah, so a trip for the nerds and a hunt in the process? In another country no less. Sounds like a deal to me. Let’s book it.” Dean says.

With the flight and the hotel booked, you three begin to do some research about local events in Amsterdam that might turn into a case.

“Here’s one, a man is missing after he went to work just like a normal day but he wasn’t supposed to work that day. No one knows why he was at the office but he hasn’t been seen since.” You say, reading off your laptop.

“So, he was a workaholic. Doesn’t sound like our kind of thing, (Y/N).” Dean says.

“Okay, okay, how about this. A couple of kids were seen on the playground at a park all spread out. They just completely dropped like flies right in the middle of the day; in front of everyone.” Sam reads.

“That doesn’t sound right.” Dean says.

“A case for you guys then?” You ask.

“Definitely. I’m gonna call Cas because while you two go to the library, he and I will take this one.” Dean says.

“What? Really Dean?” Sam retaliates.

“Come on Sammy, you want to spend time in that library and you’ll be there for a while.” Dean answers.

“Well damn if no one wants to go with me, I’ll just go to the library myself.” You say becoming pissed that no one seemed to want to go with you.

“Like hell, you will,” Dean says.

“Stop treating me like I’m a fucking baby, Dean!” You yell and storm off, up the stairs and to your room, slamming the door in the process.

The flight out to Amsterdam was miserable; no one said a word. Sam, Dean, Cas and yourself all sat together on the plane for an entire 10 hours.

Arriving at the airport, it was filled with people going in all different directions. You felt uncomfortable, feeling claustrophobic right away. With no words spoken still, you all managed to weave your way through the crowds to go through customs and find your bags without much a fret.

You kept close to the boys, despite how mad at them you were and followed them into a cab and off to the hotel. Checking in and getting your room key was the best part of your trip so far. It meant staying far away from them as possible.

“(Y/N) hang on a minute.” Sam said, grabbing your elbow to keep you from going too far.

You whipped around to look up at him as he towered over you, height-wise.

“What?” You snap at him causing his infamous puppy look to come out.

“Please don’t think for one second that I don’t want to spend time with you. Believe me, I do but I have a hard time saying no to a hunt.”

“Well it’s not that hard, Sam.” You say, moving your arm out of his grip.

You walk to your room, not wanting to run into another Winchester as long as you lived. Throwing your bag on the bed, you take out a book and are instantly transported to somewhere other than where you were now. Yes, you wanted to be in Amsterdam but not like this, not like no one wanted to be around you. You heard what Sam said to you but the way he’s been treating you, says otherwise.

“Hey (Y/N) we’re going to dinner; would you like to come with us?” Cas yelled to you from the otherwise of the door.

“No thanks, no one wants to be around me anyway.” You yell back, just as the door fell off the hinges. Cas stood in the doorway, hands stuffed in his trench coat pockets.

“What the hell, Cas?” You ask, stunned to see what he just did.

“I-I’m sorry. You weren’t coming out so I did what I had to.” He apologized.

“You did not have to do anything Cas.” You say.

“Look, we want to be around you, we do, especially Sam.” He explains.

You scoff at what he said, rolling your eyes in the process.

“Oh, he sure seems to want to be around me.” You said.

“Look (Y/N), I can promise you, Sam wants to be around you. In fact, it bothers him that you won’t stay around him. He likes you, a lot more than he lets on, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Cas states then begins to leave the room.

“Offer still stands for dinner if you want.” He says, fully leaving you alone.

You decided not to go to dinner so you could wrap your head around what Castiel just told you. Sam liked you? Well, he hasn’t been acting like he was into you in any way, let alone a romantic way. You lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, pondering about how you were going to handle him when you went to the library tomorrow.

Falling asleep, the night went on, until the sound of the Winchesters coming back from their night out woke you.

“I still can’t believe you like (Y/N). I mean, how? For how long?” Dean asked.

There was no sound so you assumed Sam was blushing, trying to think of the right words to say next. He tended to do that when he became nervous, also rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ve always liked her to be honest. She’s become my best friend. We can stay up until 2 o’clock in the morning, talking about whatever and she gets me. No one understands what we’ve gone through like she does. I don’t know, I didn’t mean for it to happen and that’s why I’ve been a dick to her lately. Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was fall in love with her but I did. I was trying to keep her away from this life; she doesn’t need to see it. But I can’t keep pushing her away; she just won’t let me.” You heard him explain and the heat in your cheeks rose to an uncomfortable level.

As much as you wanted to go out there and tell him you felt the same, you didn’t want him to know that you were eavesdropping, especially not in front of Dean and Cas. You told yourself that if you told him now, he probably wouldn’t remember since he probably had been out drinking with his brothers; you would tell him tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and you were up early, eager to get to the library so you could finally tell Sam how you feel about him. It was true, you liked him ever since you met him too, but when he started acting like a jerk to you, you thought he didn’t feel the same when in reality, his feelings were the same. He cared so much about you, that he didn’t want you to be apart of his hunter lifestyle. You adored that side of him and now you were finally going to be with him.

“(Y/N) you ready?” Dean called to you, knocking on the door.

You opened the door, big smile on your face as you saw all three Winchesters waiting for you.

“Ready for the library?” Sam asked and you nod your head in reply. He smiled softly at you, seemingly surprised that you weren’t mad at him.

You both got into the back of an Uber to head out to the library, leaving Dean and Cas back at the hotel. The ride over was silent, you pressing on the palm of your hand in nervousness; something you knew Sam did too.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)? You keep pressing on your palm like I do when I’m nervous about something.” His look of concern bores into your eyes and you wanted to kiss him right there, but you thought the library would be more romantic.

The outside of the library already took your breath away. The building was old and rustic looking but the details of the architecture gave it an old-world charm. It was beautiful; you couldn’t imagine the inside.

Walking in with Sam close to your side, your jaw literally fell as you took the huge room with three floors lined with books. Knowing Sam was a bookworm like you, you looked over to him and his expression mirrored yours.

“Well, where should we start?” He finally said.

You both decided to start at the very top and slowly work your way down to the bottom floor. Searching through all the books just to see what they had and you were left in awe of the old books that gathered dust on the shelf but still managed to bring you joy.

Looking up from a book, you saw Sam on the other side of the floor from you, nose buried in a book and the cutest look of concentration on his face. You decided that the moment it would be the perfect time to tell him you heard everything last night.

“Hey, Sam?” You asked as you approached him at the table he was sitting at, two small towers of books on either side of him.

“Hmm?” He asked, looking up at you.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask.

“Of course. Do you wanna sit?” He asked and you followed suit.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” He asks.

“I uh, I heard everything you said last night.” You admit and he just stared at you. You took that as your cue to continue.

“I heard you tell Dean and Cas that you had feelings for me ever since we met. I heard all of it.”

“You did?” He finally says.

“Yes.” You say back.

“And?” He asked, wanting to know what else you had to say.

“I like you too. I always have but then when you started being mean to me, I took it as you didn’t like me so I avoided you as much as possible until I saw the picture of the library here and thought it would be a good idea for us to come here, see what would happen if we did.” You admit.

Sam just smiles at you and says, “that’s why I convinced Dean and Cas to let us come here. I wanted to see what would happen if we came here too.”

You reciprocated his smile and stood up from your seat to walk closer to him. He followed your lead, towering over you once more before he brought you closer to him. He looked down into (Y/E/C) and tucked a strain on hair behind your ear. He leaned in closer to you until you felt his lips on yours, falling into perfect sync.

After the long 8 months of being around the Winchesters, you finally had Sam the way you always wanted him. And in this very moment, kissing him in the world’s most romantic place to you both, you were able to let your walls down and let him in completely and fully. Yes, the hunter lifestyle was going to be harder for you now that you loved Sam but you trusted him to always think of you before he did anything now. It was you and he lost in all the words of the books that surrounded you and that was just how you wanted it; forever. 

Forever tag list: @juju-la-tortue @marvelfansworld @grace15ella @simpleboox