#it must be the pure rage I feel for what they did to cas in that show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

demonmary · 2 years

Text

a corruption cleared: a demon dean fic

link to a03 | tag list | summary | warnings

The first dose was shoved down his throat rather unceremoniously. He had just tried to kill his own brother with a hammer, so he thought that was, y’know, fair. In the grand scheme of it all, or whatever.

When Dean had woken up dead, he’d immediately known he was different. Not just physically but wholly. Every last cell of him, every thread of his soul and fibre of his being, had been transformed, forged in fire and flame, strengthened with a resolve he thought he’d lost in his youth.

A Knight of Hell, they called him.

Some knight he was now, in chains in his own basement. Locked up in the aimless corridors of the bunker like some captive minotaur, a monster kept from fulfilling his role.

read below or continue on a03

Everything was corrupted, had been, really, ever since he picked up that blade. He’d never expected his angel’s grace to join the ranks of the things he’d have to ruin, but here he was. Castiel’s grace had slid down his throat like ichor, despite his fighting, and despite his filth.

When Castiel had healed him in the past, it was from the outside in. His hands would come to rest on Dean’s injured flesh, his grace would pulse through them like electricity, and the connection would stop when Cas pulled away. But this - this was more refined. This wasn’t Castiel’s touch; this was Castiel. This was Castiel, healing him from the inside out.

When it was time for the second dose, Dean heard his captors as they paused in front of the door. Their footsteps stopped abruptly, like both Sam and Cas remembered who was waiting for them on the other side. What was waiting for them. After they braced themselves and opened the door, Dean felt an incredible rage bubbling inside him.

Dean fought just as hard against them this time as the first, thrashing about and gnashing his teeth and flitting his newly minted true-form about the devil’s trap bubble he was imprisoned within.

This second portion only strengthened the hold that the grace was gaining on his consciousness. He could feel it weaving through his insides, could sense the way it tugged at his humanity, stretching and kneading the remnants of life and soul into something more concrete.

Something must have changed because when it was time for the third dose, Cas came alone. Dean heard both sets of steps as far as the hallway, but only his angel approached, the vial of grace clutched between his fingers.

“Aw, am I human enough now that you can face me alone?” Dean’s voice came out sickly sweet, the kind of artificial sugar that came hand in hand with his lack of mortality. “Didja pretty-up my demon face? Spread some angel-gloss on my nine mouths?”

Dean puffed out his chest, as much a picture of confidence as could be managed while chained to a chair.

“Can you even see me? The real me?” Dean wasn’t sure what about his words did it, but Castiel flinched at that. When he looked back to Dean, his eyes flickered over the space around Dean first.

Cas took a deep breath before answering. “You mean if I can see the demon’s true face?”

“I’m the demon, Cas. That’s me.”

Castiel looked away again. “I can, yes. See you.”

“Well, then, how come I can’t see you? Doesn’t seem fair, does it? Makes a guy feel a li'l exposed.” Dean took stock of how he was sitting; legs spread wide, feet braced far apart, shoulders back, head lolled to the side. Dean knew how he looked. He poked his tongue out, pink and wet, and watched as Cas followed the movement with his eyes.

“You can’t see me?” Was that… Relief?

Dean shook his head no, and for fun, flitted through a few of his demonic faces, flashing his body’s eyes black for pure dramatics. The display seemed to make Cas uneasy, and something about the way he got shifty was enjoyable for Dean. It was reminiscent of the little cat-and-mouse games he would play with his and Crowley’s targets.

This was just a little last hoorah, a little bit of fun before it was all over. It didn’t have to be more than that.

Cas wasn’t paying attention anymore; he was circling Dean like he was prey, or more aptly - like Dean was a puzzle, something to be taken apart and put back together, solved and fixed, like he could pick out the wrong pieces and leave them out, burn them to ash and ignore the holes in the final picture.

“Could you see me before we started the treatment?”

“The treatment?” Dean laughed, the sound cruel and echoing. “That what we’re calling it? And how the fuck would I know? You didn’t exactly introduce yourself before you grabbed me from behind and threw me into a fuckin' devil’s trap. These things don’t feel great, y’know. They hurt, honestly.”

Castiel straightened up, squinting at Dean, squinting at the swirling forms around him. “Hm.”

Dean would love to have his hands free now, would love the chance to knock some fucking sense into his angel, feel the way the soft skin of his cheek yields to Dean’s hardened fist. Pay him back for the way his grace was constricting around the darkness that filled his chest, really make him see what Dean had become before he’s torn back out from the depths of it.

Dean’s eyes were drawn to Castiel’s grace again, the little glass vial that glowed with the essence of him. Dean wanted it as much as he didn’t. He’d be lying if he said the turmoil it was creating within him wasn’t compelling, wasn’t more interesting than chasing empty highs in the form of false-righteous kills. Grace was tangling with whatever smoke his soul had morphed into, and it felt as hellish as it did heavenly.

Cas stepped forward, his feet centimeters from the circumference of the prison he’d trapped Dean inside.

Toeing the line as always. That was his angel.

His. Dean was only allowed to have when he was a demon. Possession came with the territory, he guessed. As soon as he was cured, Castiel would return to the way he was, as unattainable and celestial as ever.

“Are you weakened by the trap? Is that why you can’t see me?”

Dean sighed, long-suffering and exaggerated. “Cas, c’mon man, how the fuck would I know. I’ve never been in one of these things. Haven’t run into an angel either. Guess they’ve been staying clear. Knight of Hell, and all.”

Cas stepped over the line, the vial of grace gleaming blue against the grime of the dungeon.

Dean didn’t fight while Cas fed him his grace. He was too busy searching for a glimpse of Castiel in the air around them.

Cas walked out without another word, leaving tendrils of his grace to take deeper root in Dean’s soul.

The pain was exquisite. Dean writhed and screamed and cried, the sound coming from deep within him and deeper within his true-form. He wailed from his nine mouths, he scratched with claws and nails and talons. He pounded on the barrier of the devil’s trap.

Dean knew the fight was useless, but when had that ever stopped him?

The pain distracted Dean from the sound of his captors’ fourth approach. Cas was halfway across the floor towards him before Dean noticed.

Castiel flinched when Dean looked up, decay-black meeting grace-blue. Dean tried to flash a few faces, snarl and howl and show his teeth, but the threads of grace were stronger than he had thought. He was tethered in place, the last semblance of control ripped from him.

In the silence stood the two creatures, both equally marred with humanity.

At least Dean saw it as the problem that it was. Castiel was in denial, saw his humanity as a strength. Dean knew better.

The demon fought hard and loud enough that Sam opened the door into the hallway, looking in with wide eyes. Dean only noticed when Cas turned and ordered him out, the flash of heaven’s wrath barely contained behind his vessel’s eyes.

There was no avoiding the invasion. With Castiel’s fingers hooked around Dean’s jaw, forcing his mouth open, the grace slides right in. Like it was meant to be there; like it had a home inside Dean.

Cas barely looked at him on the way out.

That time, the burn was less intense. If Dean closed his eyes and focused, he could picture the grace scraping the inside of his body, digging out his darkest and deepest parts and purifying them. It was a healing like no other, but it was just as much a destruction.

An hour later, Castiel came alone, the door left swinging on its hinges as if to show off this fact.

“Just you? No chaperone this time?” Dean spread his legs, stretching against the restraints at his ankles. He let his thighs fall apart, leaned back against the chair, felt his shirt ride up a bit at his hips. “Aren’t ya scared of the big bad wolf?”

Cas barely acknowledged him, opting instead to pull a chair out and take a seat. “Why would I be? You’re more human than demon now.”

Dean watched as the angel took out a small blade - watched as he took out an empty vial.

Dean watched as Castiel dragged the sharpened edge against his own flesh and drained his own essence into a vial for Dean to consume. Always ready to sacrifice, always happy to bleed.

The sight was mesmerizing, skin parted to allow a stream of light to escape, blood from the vessel’s veins tinging the whole scene a delicious red. Dean wanted to drink straight from the source.

Once Castiel was finished, he healed himself with a thought, flesh knitting together seamlessly, candy red blood evaporated into the air. What a waste.

Dean pouted.

When Castiel stepped forward, sixth dose in hand, Dean locked eyes with him. He knew the demon-black was faded now, and the effect was gone with it, but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Dean let his eyelashes flutter shut, his mouth parting as he let his tongue loll out onto his bottom lip. He knew what he looked like.

Cas reached out to rest his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, a precaution in case the demon reared its heads and put up a fight. Instead, Dean leaned into the touch and opened his eyes to meet Castiel’s once again.

The wide-eyed look he was met with was more than reward enough. When Castiel tipped the vial, Dean breathed in.

Communion.

“Do all angels taste this good, or just mine?” Dean watched Castiel’s jaw clench. Whether it was at the words or the display Dean had put on - he couldn’t be sure.

Dean wasn’t lying, though. On this side of the halfway point, the pain was gone, leaving behind only Castiel. His grace was more him than Dean had ever been able to see, and now it was inside him. Now it was part of him. Now Castiel was branded on his shoulder, etched on his ribs, stitched through the very fibers of him.

And, sure, maybe taste wasn’t the right sense to be focused on, but again. Dean knew how he sounded. He knew how he looked.

And so did Castiel, based on the hitch of breath the question triggered.

Dean never got his answer; Castiel only left him alone. Dean pretended he didn’t feel the ghost of abandonment settle into his chest. Feelings that he hadn’t had use for as a demon were flooding back with each dose.

Castiel returned shortly before the hour was up and sat back in the chair just outside Dean’s devil’s trap. When he pulled out the knife again, vial close behind, Dean shook his head.

“C’mon, let’s skip that step, huh? Save the extra dish?”

Castiel’s head shot up, eyes squinted in question.

“Don’t make me beg, Cas. We’re already here, right? So I might as well lay down and take it. Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll bend over and arch my back real pretty for ya. I just want to taste.” The demon must still be hanging on tight if Dean had the words to ask for what he wanted. Despite the shock he felt at his own words, Dean only flashed a smirk.

Castiel’s confusion didn’t seem to clear. Dean bowed his head best he could, pulling his shoulders in tight. “No vial. Just. Come here, will you?” Dean hadn’t missed shame these last few weeks.

Dean didn’t dare look up, but slowly, Castiel stepped into sight, stopping once he’d reached the sigil line.

A beat.

And then a second.

Dean raised his eyes in time to watch Castiel flick the blade across his wrist. He dropped the knife, the clattering sound doing nothing to break the tension in the room.

Dean watched as Castiel took an unnecessary breath and crossed the line. Like a habit, Castiel’s uninjured hand came to rest on the bolt of Dean’s jaw, Castiel’s feet planted firmly behind Dean’s prison-chair. Dean could only see him if he craned his neck back and instead chose to press into Castiel’s hold, leaning his face into the impossibly soft touch he found there.

Dean let Castiel turn his head slightly and licked his lips as the cut moved into view. He wanted nothing more but to latch on, grab with both his hands and gorge himself until he’d had his fill, until Castiel was nothing but swirling essence inside him, grace and light and holiness and purity, until Dean could find a way to snub that out too.

Instead, he waited; waited as Castiel positioned his wrist in front of Dean’s lips, waited as Castiel’s blood dripped red and rusted down onto Dean’s chest, down over his stomach, down onto his lap. The grace waited at the surface, pooling in impossible little puddles of light on Cas’s skin.

It was close enough that Dean just needed to stick his tongue out for a taste. It was close enough that Dean could take and take and take and take.

It was close enough that waiting was a reward in itself.

Castiel closed the gap and pushed with one hand to connect Dean’s lips with the source of grace. Dean moaned at the contact, took a greedy inhale, parted his lips, pressed out his tongue, and drank. The blood was a familiar flavor, but the way it mixed with grace was anything but.

The taste was sunshine. It was bright white light and it was patience and it was purity and it was God, not g-o-d god, not fathergod, but God, something Dean hadn’t experienced before, not until now, not until he knew Castiel inside and out and Castiel knew him in return.

When Cas pulled back, Dean whined, low and thick in the back of his throat. He felt the blood coating his lips, felt the grace settling low in his belly. His eyes were hooded, lids heavy with his drink.

“I’ve never told you how goddamned good you feel. I’ve always thought it… but now that I can taste you? God, Cas.”

Cas was standing behind him, face obscured, body language entirely hidden. Dean tried again, leaning into it, letting himself feel drunk on Castiel’s grace.

“Really, sweetheart. You taste so fucking good. You were addicting enough before, but this is next level.”

Cas spoke up. “Before? You… You can’t….”

Regret twisted dark in Dean’s stomach, blotting out the light. “Yeah, you’re right. A monster like me, angel like you? Is human any better?”

Castiel took careful steps around him, staying within the circle as he moved to look Dean in the eye. “You’re not a monster.”

“Who are you reassuring?” Dean spit the words back, and Castiel blinked twice and left the room.

One more carefully orchestrated dance later, the ritual would be complete. Once more, Castiel would enter the room, once more, Dean would press his lips to Castiel’s skin. Once more, he would drink.

When he finished, Dean reveled in the effects, eyes sliding shut as he floated inside his mind, as the last strands of hell were drowned out with holy light. Knight of Hell gave way to daylight.

He barely noticed as Castiel untied his wrists and ankles, he barely noticed when Castiel dragged his blade through the barrier of the devil trap. He barely noticed as Castiel turned his back and left him there to sit in his own drunken shame.

Human once more.

another ao3 link on your way out! comments / kudos / reblogs appreciated ☺️

#dirtybackroad #zo.txt #destiel fanfic #spn fic #contentnatural #is there a fic tag i'm missing

32 notes · View notes

izzysarchivedblogs · 1 year

Note

[ tiles ] one muse finds the other sitting on the floor and joins them.

@crisispider // star trek verse, but clint barton is still unhinged about john walker

DRY DOCK ⸻ The Enterprise was is need of repairs, and while they were stationed there was SOMETHING he hadn't been listening all that much as it would not apply to him, being a rank below WHATEVER. All he knew was that he would be at the helm while work was being done on the ship assisting with that.

WORKING ⸻ Long and draining day, that doesn't feel like it was coming to an end until the senior officers are back. He should be relieved soon, possibly within in the next two hour or three hours. THE PROBLEM THAT ARISES is that as more bodies enter the bridge there's additional voice mixed in with the nebulous sound coming from somewhere in the room.

IT'S A VOICE THAT HE WOULD RECOGNIZE ANYWHERE.

Vision getting dark, lungs losing all their air, and he vaguely remembers SOMETHING TIGHT AND CRUSHING AROUND HIS THROAT. Clint's reaching a hand up to his neck to try to pull at invisible hand. . . . That can't be right, must be a different person and similar voice.

The voice talks again, LAUGHS int good humor to something THE CAPTAIN has said. HE CAN'T BE THAT FUNNY. ⸻ Just a similar sounding voice is enough to IRK HIM TO HIGH HELL AND BACK. His hearing wasn't ever good anyways, so he is trying to give the benefit of the doubt but IT TALKS AGAIN.

His head turn to see ⸻ HIS VISION GOES RED. . . . Up on his feet in no time flat, there is no logic or reason. No preamble or warning, blue eyes would recognize that face anywhere, that voice anywhere. . . . HIS FIST MAKES CONTACT WITH JOHN WALKER'S JAW BEFORE ANYONE HAS ANYTIME TO REACT.

Full force thrown into the punch, and the everyone on the bridge is an uproar. CLINT KNOWS WHAT HE DID ⸻ A hand goes up, than he's ducking on pure instinct to avoid being grabbed.

❝ DON'T ⸻ I FUCKING KNOW ! ⸻ I'M OUT! ⸻ SULU, I'LL COVER DOUBLE LATER! ❞ He knows the trouble he was in, but that had felt good and gratifying to punch of the son of the bitch. Clint knew the second he was any sort of disorderly he'd be thrown out and ordered off.

He's a STORM OF FURY, pure filtered rage and he makes for a menace down the halls. . . . and DAMMIT, HE WANTS A DRINK. It's the first time that he has seen JOHN WALKER THE FUCKING DICK since his days at the Academy.

IT IS STILL FRESH IN HIS MIND ⸻ THE MAN ALMOST KILLS HIM (and he was sure he had been trying) and Clint ends up the more in trouble for the whole FIASCO as it got called? IT BOILS BILE IN STOMACH.

He ends up in his shared quarters with Peter, and the RAGE SEES RED IN HIS EYES. Clint's destruction, more destructive that he had been at meeting face-to-face with his attempted murderer again (one of a few in his life ⸻ see he did not need the vastness of space insanity and danger when his life on earth had been plenty).

LEONARD'S CABINET WAS EASY TO ACCESS ⸻ The urge is too strong, but he swallows it down. His throat dry. TOO DRY. Clint was wanting, needing, jonesing, just one drink, but he can't drink. . . .

No alcohol to drown the violence, so their quarters get wrecked. Pillows through, fist to things , and his hand hurts. Cut on something. ALL THAT ANGER AND THE PAIN. Least he didn't drink, took it somewhere safe.

Eventually it does subside, and he just sits on the floor. STEWING BITTERLY. What the hell was he doing aboard and how did he get rid of him? Clint's propped his arms up on his knees and he tries to breathe, wait out of the PANIC that came up as well.

His life had already been a wreck and John Walker had been the number one cause he almost didn't make it through the Academy, almost wasn't alive. That feeling doesn't simply go away.

Ignores about any and all comms to himself, until Peter comes in and Clint's gone time blind in his uproar of emotions. THIS WAS BAD FUCKING NEWS. He knew he needed to control himself better, and that this was going to cause him a lot of noise and trouble.

PETER'S FACE HURTS HIS HEART ⸻ That look of worry and panic on his features, and Peter knows only that John Walker had been a goddamn shit-stain on his life, almost got him kicked out multiple times but he didn't say a damn thing about being being choked out by him.

❝ I'm sorry for all the trouble I cause. ❞ He tells him, and he moves as Peter comes to crouch next to him to just lean into him, rest his head into his shoulder and sigh. WORST DAY. And he's not looking forward to explaining himself and not being believed again.

#ic; clint barton #rp; crisispider #crisispider #clint barton; crisispider #asks; clint barton #verse; clint barton; to boldly go (ss; crisispider)#violence cw #alcoholism cw #attempted murder cw #choking cw

1 note · View note

shatteredatthealtarofwinchester · 4 years

Text

Umm, wait. It's more a 15x20 rant than an analysis. I'll call it... a ranalysis. 😏

I just saw J*reds last online panel again, where he called the finale "magical full circle storytelling". 15x20 is his "favourite episode ever" because he "is a fan of good storytelling". Uh-huh... Okay. So the following just was built on pure rage. This makes it more of a rant than an analysis. As usual. You guys know me.

Well. There are various possibilities here, Jared. Possibility A is, you are lying, what I do not believe. To lie that obvious you have to be a talented actor, which you are not. Possibility B is, you really think that way. You believe, the finale was "magical full circle storytelling" and you actually loved it, it was indeed your favourite episode. This again brings me to the only conclusion: You have no fucking idea about good storytelling, not even decent storytelling.

Lets look at every single ending, shall we?

Dean. We all know you think Deans death was a "success story." You think that Dean "ultimately gave his life for his number one on planet." I am sitting here, laughing in pain. First of all, let me say that Dean didn't died for Sam, Jared. He didn't took a bullet for Sam or sacrificed himself or whatsoever. He died in the most ridiculous accident I've ever seen. But lets go back to the very start.

Dean’s childhood was highly abusive. Dean was 4 years old when he saw his mother burning alive and learned that monsters are real. In that age he developed PTSD and stopped talking. Dean had a childhood with a father that was an alcoholic and physically and mentally abusive, who had believed that Dean had a “killer instinct". When Dean was about 6 years old, John forced him into a nurturing role for Sam. In the same age Dean was forced into the soldiers role as well when John taught him how to shoot and hunt. Dean had to obey orders without questioning. If he acted “out of line,” (aka something John didn’t like) John chewed him out or left them alone. Dean was trained to be Daddy’s blunt instrument. Dean gave up his own life to keep Sam safe, because he had no other choice. More than a brother Dean had to be a father and a mother to Sam. He suppressed everything, every psychological pain, every emotion, he just lived to protect Sam and to obey as Johns blunt soldier. Short: Dean gave up HIMSELF for Sam and John. Not because Dean wanted to, because he was forced into it! Dean hated himself, he was suicidal. He was convinced he isn’t worthy of anything, especially not being loved. Dean never had a life for his own, never had a choice, never had a chance, never had own original thoughts, never felt safe or loved. He was used to being left. He felt like he was nothing. Worthless. He was dead inside. Broken. You get what I mean, Jared? Since you own a mental health campaign, you should. And guess what Dean did? He kept fighting. Despite everything, he kept fighting. And his mindset slowly changed. He understood that his father was an abusive bastard, he unterstood that he was forced into a life he never wanted. He understood that he is more than that, that he is not like John. He changed. He opened up. He even wanted to retire. And now it gets interesting, because something happened that REALLY is the start of magical full circle storytelling. Something in Deans mind clicked while Cas' confession. His confession was fundamental to Dean to finally accept his own goodness and the value of his life and love, of his identity. It was the moment of breaking free of the structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. It was the only way out of his abusive and traumatizing cage to experience something for his own the very first time. For the first time in his life he had a chance. A choice. The start of his very own life. Free will, baby! Well, no. Because exactly in that moment he stumbled into a nail and died. Do you even realize how dumb this is? Do you even realize what you did? Wait, it gets worse. Yeah, that's possible, even if you dont believe it. In heaven he goes right back to the life he has spent his whole journey learning to free himself from: Left only with the persons he had been forced, time and time again, to sacrifice his identity, goals, and soul for. None of the family, support, or love, nothing he has built or chosen for himself remains. This is not magical full circle storytelling, Jared. This is abysmal pointless butchering. This has NOTHING, not a single percent of magical or good storytelling! YOU call that magical? YOU call that a success? Seriously, what shit are you on? If it would've been full circle storytelling, there is not one single fucking possibility that Dean would've died in the end. I don't know whats going on in your twisted brain, but Deans death never was and never will be a success. To make it magical full circle storytelling, he MUST have been the one who survives and overcomes his trauma (and raise a certain someone from perdition.)

Sam. He's actually the one who kinda got the best ending, huh? I mean, it was fucking horrific, but it was the best if you compare it to the others. When Sam was young, he wanted a normal life far away from hunting, while the truth is, Sam always was more like John than Dean ever will be. Over time his mindset clearly changed. He even said: "When Dean came to get me at school, I told myself, one last job, you know, (...) it was always one more job and then I was gonna go back to law and to my life. I guess, I really understand now that THIS is my life. And I love it." Sam couldn't imagine a normal life anymore. He had the chances for that and he declined. He loved hunting. He loved working and making progress with the BMOL, he very much enjoyed being a MOL and even took the lead often. I can clearly picture Sam as the lead of a rebuilt version of the MOL, that would've made sense. What did Sam get? Right, the ending he didn't wanted anymore, but since we yeet every single development of every single character out of the window, Sam has to be Season 1 Sam again, BUT with a fancy party wig! And there he is! And what a happy life he lives, exactly what he wanted, woohoo! So much joy, so much fun! Oh look, there is BlurryWife™, who Jared made sure is not Eileen, because “Dean wouldn’t want Sam to be with Eileen”. But wait, didn't Dean wanted Sam to be with Eileen? Didn't Dean literally said: "If it was to work, Eileen, you know... She gets it, she gets us, she gets the life. You could do worse. And she could certainly do better, like SO much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy." Yeah, NO. This was just a writing AND acting AND producing mistake and had no matter at all. *cough* So... As you can see, magical storytelling strikes again. I can feel the magic, I can feel the full circle, it's... Amazing...

Castiel. Castiels story was magical, it was mindblowing. I've never in my entire life seen such a meaningful and deep storyline and I mean this. It's fucking massive. There is this blunt angel soldier, one of the post powerful forces, who was built to blindly obey, who lived for aeons of years, who wasn't supposed to feel anything, but he fell for a broken, suicidal, abused human who never felt loved or worthy the very moment he touched him. He fell so hard he rebelled against his own race, against his own family, against everything he had without any safety. He was the ONLY one in Chuck-knows-how-many universes who GREW outside of Chucks CONTROL! His love was so fucking massive, it couldn't be controlled by the God who built every-fucking-thing. Chuck built millions(?) of parallel universes, heaven, hell, life, death, purgatory, the empty, he created every single being, the light, darkness, every single angel, demon, leviathan, monster, animal, plant, sea, blade of grass, every centimeter of mountains, the four seasons, emotions, what the fuck ever. Everything you can ever think of, Chuck created it. And he controlled it. In every single one of his fucking millions of universes. But not Castiel.This is actually not possible. You can't outrun god. You can't outrun the one who creates, writes and controlles everything. But Cas did. Out of love. And not only that, you also imply that what happened between Dean and Cas was the only thing that was real. Everything else was corrupted, controlled, manipulated, written by Chuck. But what happened between Dean and Cas, he couldn't affect.

Seeing Cas standing there, crying, confessing his love to Dean actually even makes me think that Dean made Cas human. Dean completed Cas. Cas didn't simply said "I love you", he actually said "In all existing universes, in all millions, all aeons of years, you are my only happiness." And Cas completed Dean. He freed Dean. While Dean was used to being left, was used to feeling worthless and unlovable, Cas saw Dean exactly the way he is and chose to stay. With every obstacle, every difficulty he loved him even more and yes, freed him from the abusive structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. Something that no one else could, not his parents, not Amara, not God, not even Sam. Beautiful, isn't it? Unique. Mindblowing. Pure. You enjoyed it? Let's fuck this up in 3...2...1...

Castiels story ended exactly the same way it started. A blunt angel who doesn't care about people and feelings, blindly carrying out instructions from a new God, obeying heaven. No progress. They threw away 12 years of character development and managed to give him the same stupid and senseless ending like they did with Dean. Dean died and Cas... Wasn't there?! WHAT!? There is no single fucking way Cas wouldn't save Dean or wouldn't be there when Dean enters heaven! There. Is. No. Fucking. Way! The way they represented Cas in the end doesn't only imply that Dean isn't important to Cas anymore, he even ended up exactly the same way as if Season 4-15 wouldn't have happened. The ending is exactly the same! He's with God in heaven, supporting him with instructions, not caring about anything else.

Okay, I got it. Summarizing you can say: Jareds "magical full circle storytelling" is to yeet 95% of the past 15 years. No other characters matter, the story itself doesn't matter, every single characters development doesn't matter, it even doesn't matter what the brothers really want, they don't get it anyway.

Okay. But that's not all. As if this wasn't bad enough, they didn't just butchered ... EVERYTHING, they also salted and burnt every single Mantra they ever stood for. I'll make these short, I promise!

Team Free Will. *snort* Dean couldn't escape his fate, he always believed he'll die on a hunt as Daddys blunt instrument and he did. He kept fighting to die exactly the way he felt he was "supposed to". Message? No matter how hard you keep fighting, no matter how long you'll keep it up, you can't escape your fate. Sam couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started. Cas couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started, same for Jack, he ended how he was supposed to. YEET THE FREE WILL, NONE OF THEM CAN CHANGE ANYTHING!

Family don't end with blood. The biggest lie that has ever been told. Do I even have to explain that? No need, right? Don't make me wanna throw up again, please. We all know that 15x20 blasted "Family don't end with blood" in millions of pieces.

Always keep fighting. THE AUDACITY to praise that while Dean is dying! After everything Dean has dealt with, It makes me wanna scream. Dean kept fighting, he always kept fighting, no matter how hard it was, no matter what forced him to his knees, he stood up again, and if he wasn't able to stand up, he crawled. He kept fighting no matter what, despite everything. His mindset changed. He wanted to live, he wanted to experience things, feelings and people differently or even for the first time. He changed. He wanted to retire, toes in the sand. He knew he earned it. Thats why he kept fighting. For what? To die the very first moment he had a free will. To die the very first moment he had a choice, had a life to build for himself. Always keep fighting, but the moment you come close to what you want, what you fought for, you die. It's been more than 3 months and I am having tears in my eyes while typing this. As for Dean, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how long you fight, you don't reach what you deserve anyway. Give up. As for Sam, AKF leeds to Emptiness. Grief. Psychological Trauma. Mental illness. Absolutely nothing worth fighting for.

I wanna go cry now, bye.

#jensen ackles #misha collins #j*red p*dalecki #spn #spnfandom #supernatural #spnfamily #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #dean #cas

349 notes · View notes

samdyke · 4 years

Note

top 5 scenes/episodes/arcs that deserved horriblebreakdownnatural go!

OKAY MICKEY I DID THINK ABT THIS A LOT and these are Not in any particular order but i have thoughts SO (below the cut bc its long)

1. sometime in s2 (after having met max for sure like seeing his powers be used for something violent & learning he also has psychokinetic abilities) sam shouldve had a full meltdown about his powers this is a PRIVATE MELTDOWN he goes to the woods or smth in the middle of the night and just loses it. full screaming at the sky “what the FUCK is HAPPENING TO ME” yes his psychic abilities would act up during this display and he would cause like. a crop circle or knock over trees and that would freak him out even more so hes like crying and trying to calm down because he’s terrified of what will happen if he Doesnt calm himself down. there’s a lot of choking down tears here because he just wants to be fucking normal, he tried so hard, and he has no idea what the hell is inside of him. he slips back into the motel before sunrise and dean never finds out about this one. like this post was Correct

2. okay this is SIMILAR but not the same hear me out. PRE swan song, as in the night between dean agreeing that sam can say yes and try to fling himself into the pit and it actually happening, sam shouldve been able to fully lose it. because holy fuck???? what the goddamn fuck is this? this breakdown potentially all happens at bobby’s house once again alone - he goes out to the scrapyard and looks up at the sky and prays to god to help him, asks why this is happening to him, why god wont do anything. please. please. there is, of course, no answer. this is sam’s last night as sam, and if things go well he’ll spend the rest of eternity locked in hell with lucifer; i think he’s entitled to a little screaming and crying and desperation

3. i gotta say like. fitz was right on the money with a post soul-fixed sam dean having a complete and utter meltdown like this. its just like......sam couldnt process for so long and dean was absolutely repressing everything for the year he lived with lisa and ben and to truthfully recognize what sam went through and everything.....horriblebreakdownatural MUST include both of them having a very late night hazy crying fit because once DEAN starts crying about how he never shouldve done it he shouldve said yes to michael or found another way sammy oh god you were so good im ao sorry you did it but i shouldve protected you i shouldve protected you then sam would also cry i think. they need this. its catharsis

4. i personally think dean should have had a breakdown after learning that mary was a hunter. not then and there in the past because goddamn no time (hah), but there’s no fucking way he would’ve been able to cope with thee mother mary, angelic perfect figment of comfort and home, the pure martyr for whom his entire life was ruined, was actually. a killer. a hunter. and she hated it. i think maybe he would be telling sam about it and it would hit suddenly and he would just feel sick, this is the kind of breakdown where you’re throwing up bile and you cant catch your breath and maybe youre crying?? but thats not the point its the absolute crushing weight and sickness when you learn that someyhing in your life has irrevocably changed in the worst way

5. cry harder repression boy: i want that tearful horrible painful breakdown from dean that we were all waiting for after despair. when he processes what cas said? and what that MEANS? oh i wanted the full breakdown here. this isnt something he can drink away because cas is fucking DEAD and cas loved him, he’s deaf Because he loved dean, like. i think that it would be jack asking where cas was that would actually seal this particular breakdown deal and dean would have to flee to go privately lose his shit which is of course not that private. think a prayer like purgatory 2.0 but 20x more desperate, which turns into threatening chuck because rage is the natural companion to grief

honorable mentions: sam after expelling gadreel (this would be horrible. imagining sam sobbing about killing kevin is genuinely making me ill), dean after leaving cas in purgatory (a prayer that turns to desperate painful screaming at the sky which sam hears but they never talk about), dean after getting cas BACK from purgatory (to cas), sam learning that he’s lucifer’s true vessel, at some point i think dean or sam shouldve had a car meltdown (u know screaming at the top of your lungs while barelling down the highway, crying, lots of obscenities).....theres def more but these simply came to mind. feel free to share w me your epic horriblebreakdownatural moment suggestions

#maybe these are dumb i just wanted to see them absolutely lose their shit #i have a note in my phone abt the second one.....#kora.txt #asks #gayofficial #pal tag #thank u sarah!!!!#long post #emeto tw

267 notes · View notes

snakeymay · 4 years

Note

So here’s my question, thorfinn and askladd are interested in Vinland for different reasons, askladd interested cause the hero Arthur headed there to heal, and thorfinn interested cause it’s a land of lush lands. Imagine if they come across a woman from the future(she doesn’t tell them she from the future, just that she is from Vinland) and anytime she talks about America (vinland) it’s sounds like an advanced civilization. (Super tall buildings made of metal and glass. Army with hundreds of thousands of strong soldiers, food of all kind able to get and make. Including thousands of spices. Hundreds of kinds of beer and wine, beautiful women) she seems very educated, so educated some of the things she talks about make no sense. (Physics, advanced maths).

Wow, I really get surprised how many people can come up to such interesting ideas! I was thinking about it for a while, so I decided to write what I was able to create. I am nor American, neither english is my mother tongue, BUT I did my best to write these imagines. Again, I wanna thank you for such an idea to accomplish. I hope you will like it!

Askeladd x future! Reader

Askeladd

In a tavern

“ Young gal, how dare you to sit here alone that night so unprotected? You can end up being stolen or even worse...” The blonde man drank a pint of ale and exhaled looking at the young woman, she looked so strange to him. He has never seen such untimid women in his life. All in her nature was strange to him, alienlike. And these traits attracted him like a magnet.

“ I am Askeladd. Where are you from? Are you Brit?”

“ ( Name). No, actually, I am from... far away. America, do you know about it?” You nervously touched your hair, but kept a firm smile on your face. No, in those times with those men as him you couldn’t show any drop of fear. Not a bit.

“ Alas, I have no idea what you are talking about. What is it? Is it in Africa or...”

You interrupted him and replied “ A-me-ri-ca. It is across the ocean... like.. if you go to the west and..”

He was caught by surprise.

“ Vinland?”

“ Yes... uh, I think you call it like it”

“ How did you come here? No, what is it like?” He drank another pint. His sight was glued to you. You felt good, all the attention, so sheer and pure, of such a fine man, was all for you. You didn’t know why he was so curious, bur you filled your lungs with air and started speaking.

“ It is massive with cities”

“ Cities?”

“ Yes. There are a lot. From coast to coast. Our houses are tall and... we can get.. water anytime!”

“ How come?” His tipsy look sobered up in a second. Bloody hell, water anytime!

“ I don’t know. It is all about the canalization system”

“ Can.. Canalization system?”

You started showing the pipe shapes, he laughed at you because your gestures seemed to him reavealing and vulgar. You blushed and realised that you were speaking from a man from the 11th century and decided to switch the topic. What would interest a mercenary?

“ We have good medicine”

“ How good, (name)?”

“ Like, healers can help many people, childrrn don’t die. We live in warmth and...”

You how the look of curious changed to rage and confusion. At the moment you felt that your time, 21st century - is the best time to live. Now you sit with a fine man, but you couldn’t survive here for a day. You stopped talking, but he asked you again.

“ How good?”

“ No one dies, almost. But it is progressing, getting further..”

“ Was it the same way like about 30 years ago?”

“ I think so, it depends”

“ I don’t know wether your words are true or not. But if I had a chance to get to the place you are talking all this evening about-“

He seized his cup, looking into his turbid drink.

“ (Name), If it is real. I am glad to know this cruel world changed at least”

You averted your eyes. You touched something in him.

“ It didn’t, but it is another story to tell, Askeladd”

Askeladd’s voice changed. Stern and serious, he took your hand in his and look straightly into your eyes. You became numb. Ah!

“ (Name), if you stay here I will buy a place in the inn for you. Just tell me more about this A-me-ri-ca?”

Thorfinn x Future! Reader

Iceland, at Thorfinn’s home

“ Woman, how can you walk like that? It is still snow outside! You could even die near our front door!” Ylva coated you with several wool blankets and you stick to the hot clay cup filled with fish broth. You don’t remember what happened to you: you just fell asleep and you woke up here, among the endless fields of snow and sharp mountains, just in your light T - shirt and shorts. And you have no idea how these people found you , but they saved you, fed you, gave you clothes and more. Gave you one more day to live.

“ I-I am s-sorry”

“It is ok, Ylva. You have children to put in bed. I will look after the guest.”

“ Thorfinn... put her in my bedding. Me and Ari will sleep with kids”

She whispered to him.

“ Don’t let happen what happened when our father was here...”

“ I won’t”

She nodded and went away, taking her kids in another room. You stayed on your place, sitting near the hearth. So warm...

The man, named himself as Thorfinn, sat in front of you. He seemed to be so indifferent to you, but he had just no idea to start a conversation with a woman who is such in a bad condition. You kept silent but he was near. After some time you felt better and you asked him, trying to sound as good as you could.

“ Where am I?”

He nodded, his brown eyes blistered with fire flames. He looked so handsome you thought, but his face and hands were covered with endless scars.

“ Iceland. In a village.”

“ I see... I am ( Name).”

“ Thorfinn. I am glad that my friend and I found you”

“ Yes”

You nodded and started looking around. Why is everything so old? What time of history.. is this?

“ Are you a warrior, Thorfinn?”

He sighed and looked somewhere far, somewhere his memories were. Far away”

“I used to be one. But all those stories are in the past. I am a merchant. A traveler as well.”

“ Where do you travel, Thorfinn?”

“ I traveled some places. Now I am aiming to sail to Vinland. It is in the west. They say these lands are lush and prosperous.”

“ Can it be.. uh? I am from this place, actually.”

“ Really? But.. is it true?”

He was marveled by your words. Surprisingly, he believed in your words without any shadow of doubt.

“ Tell me something about it, (Name). Сan people live here and never be afraid of hunger?”

You smiled again. These people think of such basic needs, and to have food for tomorrow is enpugh for them to feel safe.

“ Yes, they can. People even.. do other duties, there are little people who work in the farms, they earn their living another way.”

“ I see... is it that warm? Do you have snow like here?”

“ Oh, Thorfinn, Vinland is so wide, there are lands that have never felt snow on their soil, and there are territories which look like Iceland”

He opened his mouth.

“ But will there be any lands for my people to stay and have a good life?”

“ Yes, Thorfinn. It is so peaceful. We quarrell but in Amer- I mean Vinland, people of many ethnics live together at peace. And there are no slaves..”

“ It must be the safiest place to live, ( Name). But It sounds unreal, hm..”

You nodded tiringly. You got warm and now you just wanted to drown in the obvilion of sleep. Thorfinn saw it. He stood up and took your hand. How gentle he was to you. Now you saw him close. How gleamed his eyes, and how enthusiastic he was.

“ I want you to introduce to my friends tomorrow. One of them has been to Vinland. Will you go with me, (Name)?”

You whispered.

“ Yes, will..”

“ Then, all my thoughts of redemption were not in vain, I can fix all I had done”

You felt his heart bumping, his breath, he had something that worried him deeply. You put your effort and smiled again to him, for him.

“ Thorfinn, I promise you will.”

He brought you to your bedding. Finally, you had your sleep and it was the best sleep you had in your life.

#vinland saga #thorfinn #askeladd #askeladd headcanon #headcanon #Thorfinn headcanon #thorfinn imagine #askeladd imagine

73 notes · View notes

castielsbeeslippers · 4 years

Text

Part I

Summary: Dean regrets it instantly. The way he snapped , the words that tumbled from his mouth. The small argument between him and his little brother had escalated into a full blown screaming match , and now Sam was gone. Dean takes off to clear his head and ends up in an erie cemetery where he believes he is alone.

On ao3

Thank you to @wantstoflyafraidtofall for being beta 🖤you’ve helped me immensely! 🥺

The rumble of the classic car’s engine shook the stillness of the cemetery grounds rustling the leaves and still the air hung heavy.

With a soft screech of it’s black tires the car came to a stop. Dean must have driven over thirty odd miles to get away from that old motel that his younger brother had already abandoned. Dean just had to get away to anywhere but there.

He closed his tired eyes , feeling them sting.

He killed the engine and let himself go.

His guilt escaped from his gut-wrenching sobs. He was truly alone.

(The dead would never tell.)

Dean ran his callused hands over his soft eyes and sighed into them. He drug himself out of his classic car and did his best to pull himself together with each step.

He looked over his shoulder... nothing but the empty road.

He didn’t want to face the world or the reality of it all....His brother was god knows where because of him and that absurd fight. Dean had really crossed the line this time. A knot formed in his stomach as he recalled his harsh words.

The emotions bubbling inside him didn’t have a name. Frustration and fear didn’t seem to even scratch the surface.

His boots crushed the moist earth beneath them with unforgiving force.

A distant snap jolted Dean from his thoughts.

Dean without hesitation ripped his gun from his pocket aiming directly ahead into the stillness.

“Show yourself.” He spit into the air.

Whatever ghoul or spector was about to rue the fucking day. Dean was ready to whiplash himself from numbness to rage.

The wind only whistled in reply. It was probably just some wild animal. He let the mind drift for a moment keeping his defensive stance , still unwavering not letting himself be convinced.

Something far off rustled like a scared flock of birds, a whooshing sound rushing all at once into Dean’s ears.

Dean spun himself around only to see again the empty road that was now laden with a thick white fog... that Dean knew had to have just crept in.

It sent a chill down his spine.

‘Haunted cemetery, no shit’

He tensed his shoulders, mentally cursing himself. He already felt like roadkill and this was just adding to the fun.

Dean whipped his head back leering into the cemetery, his eyes catching on a shadowed figure.

Dean held his breath and crept forward his gun leading the charge.

The figure moved from darkness laying steady steps.

“Stay right there.” Dean warned through his clenched jaw.

The figure did not. His looming shadow turned to a man in a soft dirt colored trench coat, his hair a black tussled mess.. and his eyes pure electric.

Dean’s breath hitched , his eyes searching the man frantically.

His gun, unamused and unmoving.

“Hello.” The man spoke with a gentle monotone.

“Stop.”

“You can lower your weapon , I bear no ill intent towards you or any other human.” The man's voice boomed again.

Not human. Dean figured as much. He tore his eyes away from the man's eyes and steadied himself again.

“What the hell are you?” Dean growled. The figure's calm demeanor only pushed his buttons more.

“I’m Castiel, Angel of the Lord , Thursday’s Angel if you prefer a shorter title.” The self-proclaimed Angel said with a shrug.

“Yeah okay , and I’m Queen Elizabeth.” He chuckled darkly.

The Angel’s blue eyes gleamed as he tilted his head at the man's comment.

“You’re looking much younger.” He told the hunter flatly.

“Tryin’ to mess with me?” Dean snapped back.

“He’s not dead, Dean.”

“Excuse me?” Dean’s stomach lurched.

“I’m not supposed to be here, Dean.” The angel shook his head softly with a frown.

“I’m not even sure where “here” is.” He admitted.

Or when. He didn’t add.

Dean grit his teeth , the way he said his name with a familiarity on his tongue made Dean’s whole body tense up.

“Start talking , you’re acting like you know me.” Dean demanded no question in his tone.

Castiel smiled. A wide smile.

“I’ll tell you everything Dean, assuming you can do the same ”

Dean’s jaw clenched.

Castiel tilted his head to the right , careful to keep his lips in a line leaving his eyes wide, unblinking.

This Dean stood before him, turmoil swirling beneath his skin. Castiel felt Dean’s mind rapid fire, laden with guilt, which was so familiar, lost and searching.

How desperately the angel wanted to part the dark clouds and bring comfort to the man before him.

‘Gently , slowly. ’ He thought to himself , he didn’t want to approach this the wrong way.

“Would you sit with me?” Castiel asked cautiously.

His trench coat flowing softly after him as he turned on the ball is his dress-shoes.

Dean's eyes ever glued to the angel before him.

Dean held right to his pearl gripped pistol, still heavy in his right hand, he nodded and swallowed his protest.

“Sure.” Was the only thing he could muster.

They sat in silence for a while before Cas broke it with a soft boom of his voice.

“Dean,”

Dean's body thrummed again. The way his name was said made something deep inside flutter.

Dean only looked at Cas in wait for a reply.

The prominent sensation was still buzzing , the tickle of electricity on Dean’s skin that grew stronger with each step he took towards the angel-shaped man.

The metal bench was cold and damp beneath them. Castiel gave no reaction to this and Dean chose to ignore the damp spots forming on his jeans.

Dean carefully tucked his gun back away against his better judgement in an attempt to be polite, but something deep in his mind felt this “Castiel” could be trusted. He felt like he was losing it.

“I haven’t met you yet. This you….in the time I’ve come from we’re, and I quote “best friends… if you can believe it.” Cas started off slow with caution in his low tone.

Dean so far wasn’t buying it.

And Cas knew it just by the look in his eyes.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how much more I can say ,without upsetting the cosmic balance Dean...but I hope you can at least trust I care for you a great deal.”

A beat.

“You and your brother.”

That woke Dean up.

“Sam,” Dean grit out.“You mentioned him before, what do you know about my brother you holy tax account stalker.”

“I know he’s safe, I’m afraid I-“

Before Castiel got the rest of his sentence out Dean had jumped from the bench and was now standing in front of his eyes.

“Tell me.” he demanded.

“Dean please, you need not worry let me continue.”

“Please” he huffed softly.

And with that Dean did. He sat back down, still tense as he had been.

“He’s simply ‘blowing off some steam as you would put it.” Cas said softly.

“Yeah real awesome intel. Where ?”

“Not far, but please Dean give him some space lets-“

“Space?” Dean snapped.

“I can personally assure his safety… after we converse we can even go to him.” Cas said calmly.

“You want to just talk?” He raised his brow.

“I do.” Cas replied.

Dean swore he could see the gears turning in the dark haired angel’s (man’s?) head.

Reluctantly Dean gave in he really wasn’t sure what was coming over him. No matter how sincere those baby blue eyes were, he shouldn’t trust him. Not this quickly.

“Alright then start talkin’” Dean gave a huge sigh, his shoulders still stiff and unflinching.

“Please allow me a moment of just being… we’ve been through much...” the familiar words he’d spoken, and yet to speak forming on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah… sure” Dean’s tone softened without permission.

He felt those damn eyes again all over him.

Castiel drank in this younger Dean. Still tough as nails, still loved his brother more than his own hide, but still, while familiar, Castiel couldn’t get enough. Not that he kept his eyes to himself at any point but this was something else. A Dean before perdition, before he’d rebuild his soul… his every fiber and cell.

“Listen .” A hard swallow. “I don’t know what we’ve been through in the future, but I’m not really getting this whole “Angel of the Lord shtick.”

Cas laughed lightly. Not at Dean, it was too gentle.

“You never really had faith in them.” Cas found himself putting emphasis on them…

It was them not him… Dean has faith in him. He was sure of that, even if he hasn’t always been.

“But you’re... Different?” It came out innocent.

A nod. “It’s the cracked chassis.” He said plainly.

Dean didn’t fully understand but he got a pretty good idea.

“You called them dicks with wings.”

“The other angels.” Cas added after a moment of silence.

Dean huffed. That did sound like him.

There was a lull in the conversation, the fog still thick around them.

“So... you really don’t know how you got here?” Dean finally settled on what to say.

“I have a working theory.”

“Which is?”

“I’m simply supposed to be.”

“That’s not what you said earlier.” Dean reminded him , not the slightest convinced.

Cas let himself smile again, his crows feet visible and crinkled.

“Changed my mind.”

“Alright.” Dean said standing up from the bench.

“Let's get a change of scenery, this place isn’t exactly what I’d call a hang out spot.”

Cas’ chest got tighter with a small rush of nerves.

“We can head towards wherever my dick brother is hiding out.”

“Alright, Dean.” Cas conceded , he really wasn’t in any position to argue with him.

This is part one ✨I might be posting this on ao3 but I’ll be and part two to tumblr soon ~ this should only be two or three parts in total ✨🖤

Tag list : @my-favourite-hellatus , @nguyenxtrang , @i-dont-even-wanna-know , @withclawsandsympathy , @sideofangels , @hazel-eyed-bi @lilac-void ,

🖤Feel free to ask to be added or removed ✨

#destiel #deancas #destiel ficlet #destiel fanfic #cillabeefic #hunter!Dean #Angel!Cas #comfort #cannon!verse

16 notes · View notes

enochianribs · 4 years

Text

the spear that pierced patroclus. part one | as it was.

Thousands of years ago, Castiel visited earth for the first time. The sound of cattle as they were driven through the city echoed between the mud and stone buildings which would someday crumble to dust. Something he’d never felt before: a vibrancy, a primal nature instilled in these humans, coursed through the land and air. His vessel’s feet were planted firmly to the earth as people brushed past him, lives insignificant, but their first fleeting touches against his skin still lasted a lifetime.

It was so unlike heaven, it was alien, even though he had been created to watch, to guard and protect. The humans of the small city laughed and smiled, nestled at the very edge of the cradle of civilization . He had never heard human laughter before. Was there joy in the dirt, in the blood shed and mortal coil? From where he stood in the cosmos between the garrisons and the solemnity of a race built for war, it was hard to imagine anything else. The humans glowed with life, their souls were so bright it blinded him as he watched from miles away, somewhere high up that they couldn’t touch, even as he stood amongst them.

He watched over the ancient city that would be dismantled by famine in only a matter of months, by God’s will. It was then that a first, diminutive seed of doubt planted itself in a dark place in his mind.

***

“You have been given your task. Now go. Serve us well, Castiel.”

Hell was unlike earth, unlike heaven. Where his kingdom was sterile and pure, and earth was heavy and heaving, hell was suffocating… malevolent. He could not fathom what a soul had to do to serve there, for the rest of damnable eternity, just that it was possible: in fact, it happened so often that hell had been growing below for eons. A place to put all the irredeemable, filthy souls that wronged his Father. He knew his brother was here, somewhere. Lucifer himself: the first abomination. He reigned in the coldest circle of hell. That was not where Castiel was going.

Sparks flurried around him, catching and singeing the feathers of his ink-black wings. Hellfire stung, but he did not flinch— if he misstepped here, everything he’d ever worked for would be gone. Castiel could not fathom what this human had done to earn the rack. He didn’t know why he was in charge of saving him, just that the order came from Father. This was Castiel’s moment to prove himself to the others. He would serve. He would become exalted in their eyes.

Castiel found him in one of the darkest corners of hell, where it felt like light was swallowed up and extinguished by the evil around it. Demons surrounded the human, their faces shifting with the light of the flames, flickering twisted expressions— rage, sorrow, fear. Things he did not know. The human hung at the rack by his wrists and neck, the iron had dug into his skin so viciously it bled. His head had fallen, limp to one side. Dark blood stained his face, smeared over his eyes and nose and lips, there was an ache that would never heal building itself in his bones. He knew the descriptions of human heroes well, but he had never seen one for himself until now. If Achilles were reborn, this was him.

From where Cas watched, poised to swoop down, he could see the shimmer of what had been his soul. It was so small, fragile… stuttering in and out. It’s radiance caused Cas to falter. There was nothing filthy about it. For a moment, it went out completely. Cas held his breath, baited. The demons cackled and howled in delight, and Castiel thought it as good a moment as any to rescue Dean Winchester from hell.

The moment his palm sealed against Dean's shoulder— closed the final distance between him and humanity— Castiel’s mouth fell agape. Dean was molten , his soul burned . Cinders collapsing and lighting again. The touch stole the breath straight from his lungs. It was like he held his hand over a flame, felt the flesh burning off, but couldn't pull away. He never would.

The simple nature of the grave was strange to Castiel. There was no monument for God’s chosen hero. Dean’s supposed final resting place was in a small clearing of trees, in the middle of an expansive nowhere. The marker was a small wooden cross, handmade in grief. Castiel placed him gently into his grave where he had been buried by his brother four months prior. The second his soul seeped back into the body, it began to regenerate. The earthy rot melted away to reveal a human face once again, the lacerations from the hellhound tearing him to shreds in his last moment sealed themselves as though they had never been there. Then the nightmares started: fresh from hell, and the first gasps of air in new lungs as Dean Winchester was once again on Earth. He wanted to ease them.

Castiel turned and ran, as far as he could.

That was to be the end of his role in the cosmic game. Uriel took Castiel’s armor from him, cleaned it with Holy Water and instructed him to wait for further orders.

“If there are any.” Uriel was gone in the blink of an eye— off to higher levels to converse with seraphs of the garrison, leaving the angel alone in the blinding light of heaven, which hurt his eyes in a way it never had before. Castiel’s palm burned.

***

If he was honest, he wasn’t sure he had a mind. For eons he had been empty, and surely there was no way things with minds could feel that way. Nothingness had dug a hole and grown somewhere inside.

As clear as the sight of the galaxy from Heaven, a graveled voice prayed his name.

Castiel .

Dean Winchester was calling out to him. He wasn’t sure if he had a mind, and yet, he could make it up anyways. Heaven and hell were not done with him just yet.

***

Dean was heavy...heaving...just like earth. The perfect, intoxicating embodiment of God’s favorites. The blade buried deep into his vessel’s ribcage, and Dean’s clenched fist slid past the handle of it, pressing against his chest. The naivety of humans. Castiel smiled. There was purpose in Dean Winchester, and that was what he sought. His brothers would love him for this.

But they never did. Castiel was quick to realize it. They were enamored with Dean, and his brother Sam. These Winchesters were the toys, and Castiel was naught but the one who had brought them to the table to play with. In Heaven they spoke of the seals. Sixty-six of them. Cas wondered what could ever go so wrong that they failed to stop sixty six attempts at releasing Lucifer. He said so.

Anna looked at him with pity. “Dean Winchester broke the first seal, Castiel. A righteous man shed blood in hell. And now he will help us stop it. There are forces at play that you do not yet understand. But you will.”

Anna soon disappeared, betrayed heaven. Castiel remembered a moment before she fell. She had been standing still and quiet and he had nearly walked past her. She stared down at earth, and her voice had been so soft he barely heard it, still wasn’t sure if it was something he had been meant to hear. “What must it be like? To be human.”

Castiel was left with more questions than answers.

***

The longer he stood at the Winchesters’ side, the stranger and stranger he felt. He was as alien to them as they were to him. Everytime he spoke with the brothers it was like he took one step forward and three back to meet in the middle. To them, he was just another hunt waiting to happen, another monster under the bed. They just didn’t know what kind yet. Castiel didn’t know what he could do to guard them, what he could do to prevent the seals from being broken without a foundation of trust. Every command from heaven that he followed seemed to irritate both of the brothers. Castiel felt like he was grasping at straws.

He had wishfully thought showing Dean his mother again would help, but the weight of the truth about his younger brother overshadowed everything. Lucifer cast long shadows over the hope he tried to build. Humans were so reckless, their own emotional wreckage was innate. His days filled with danger and threat, and yet there was something that kept him close.

The moon was low, shining silver light into the diner. In a rare event, Dean was alone. He understood now that there was never just one Winchester— the other was sure to follow. It was like they were joined at the hip. Dean sat at a table, nursing a beer against his lips, staring at nothing but the checkered wall of the diner. The diner was otherwise empty.

The angel fluttered down into the chair. “Hello, Dean.”

The man jerked upright, bringing the bottle in his hand down to the table so hard it broke. A stray piece of glass sliced into his palm and he winced, before his attention snapped to Castiel, eyes narrowed. He was upset. “Jesus, Cas . You ever heard of a friggin’ door? Does everything you do have to be Jet Blue? Y’can’t walk in like a normal person?”

Cas tilted his head, unsure of what Dean was talking about, but Dean had already turned his attention back to his hand, which he held up to his mouth, trying to clean away the blood. It caught on his lips, shone ruby red in the moonlight. Reaching out, Castiel took his hand, ignoring the concerned look on the Winchester’s face, and pressed two fingers near the cut. It glowed white, and then it was gone. “I’m sorry.”

Dean pulled his hand back. “What are you doing here?” Cas felt it was less of a question and more of an accusation. “Do I have any privacy left, or do you feathered dicks have my location at all times?”

“We always know where you are.” Cas grumbled, and he realized he wasn’t sure what he was doing in a diner, in what was now early morning of the next day, sitting beside Dean Winchester. “I was just checking in… making sure you still have faith in the plan.”

Dean looked away, blood still on his lip. He swallowed, knee bouncing. “Yeah. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, but I don’t want Lucifer walking above ground, either. So the plan is still on.”

Cas nodded, and then he was gone as quick as he came.

When Sam, the blasphemous one, looked at him, it was like he was looking through him. Cas began to see through his own facade too: felt sheer, paper thin. Sam knew, somehow, that Cas was built with glass, easy to shatter. Castiel remembered coming across Sam Winchester's prayers once before. Most humans felt familiar, like they were pages in a book he had read once. He had a brief glimpse at their lives, before they faded from memory. Sam had been praying for a different life, many years ago, when he had still thought about going to college. Sam unnerved him. He was a human tainted by demons, and Azazel had built him for something. He just had to figure out what, before Sam did.

***

Dean looked at Cas like he was a fortress, and… well, it sunk under his skin. He was magnetic. Made Castiel realize he was still an angel standing in a hotel room with a man who had been touched by hell. The angel saw it in his eyes, just behind the sincerity was something deeply broken. Dean prayed a lot , though Castiel began to believe he didn’t even know he was doing it. Castiel didn’t mean to listen, but when he was one hotel room away, it was impossible to silence the quiet, terrified pleads pouring from Dean’s head right into his own.

At first he was ashamed, at times vitriolically, of the growing need to listen. Ashamed of a growing tug and pull. It was like Dean had built walls, but somehow, somewhere in the shit show of heaven and hell, Cas (omnipresent warrior of heaven that he was) had become stuck inside of them, only to find another wall when he tried to go further in. He was stuck on earth, driven by duty and trapped with a self-loathing sinner who would sacrifice near anything for others. The winchesters sowed chaos, it was how they fought the fabric of God.

And if Cas was caught in the crossfire, if he put himself there, there was no one to stop him.

One night, in Sioux Falls, while Dean slept on the couch, peaceful for just a moment, Cas found a worn copy of the Iliad sitting on Bobby’s shelf. And what he read scared him. It was about himself. Humans were presumptuous, but he found that they were often right about many things. He closed his eyes where he stood still in the dusty library, and felt the spear pierce through him where he stood in place of Achilles. Where Patroclus had stood. When he opened his eyes again, Dean was watching him through half lidded eyes. The heaviness of earth gathered between them. Cas held his breath, unable to tear his own gaze away. He waited for Dean to speak, but finally Dean blinked, turning on his side to get some rest before the end.

Morning came and went, and then another. He watched Dean closely. Sometimes Dean knew he was there, other times Cas assumed the role that Dean had wanted since the beginning. A guardian. Dean was his to ward and protect. Heaven would be lost without him, Earth would burn and the soil would sour if Lucifer ever got his hands around his neck. So, most days he watched him from behind the wall Dean had built, and Castiel suspected he had even laid a few of the bricks himself.

The presence of the wall became a reassuring constant. It meant he had not strayed so far from heaven he couldn’t find his way back. Castiel had found his purpose where it wasn’t supposed to be, by Dean’s side. But even after Uriel’s betrayal, a part of him wanted nothing more than to return to his garrison and hide. To go back to what was safe and familiar. He didn’t know that when the other angels saw them, came to stop them, that the light of Dean’s soul had begun to blend with his own, where they frayed. Castiel didn’t realize he was slipping down a steep hill he would never climb back up. He spent his time nurturing that original seed of doubt until it bore fruit.

One night, when he stood alone along a roadside after a night of gentle rain, wishing that the cars that sped by had the power to take his life like he was human, the gentle sound of wings fluttering closed startled him from his thoughts.

“It won’t ever be enough, Castiel.” Uriel said. Cas opened his mouth to speak but Uriel continued. “You were built with a chasm. You were built incomplete. That’s God’s will. Not mine, not heaven’s, not hell’s. That nothingness you feel will only grow. You’ll realize that before the end.”

Uriel was gone now, for years, but his words still rung in his head. It was true. Cas martyred himself, over and over again. The farther he drifted from heaven the more it hurt. He carved into his chest with a knife until the white of his shirt was soaked red. His chest. No longer was he an angel in a vessel. He was this human for Dean, graceless. A familiar face. A face that made Dean look away. He sliced his arms, took beatings, traversed godliness, stepped through fire and bore storms for nothing but a stray glance. Millions of years and his whole life had happened in the blink of an eye.

Castiel laughed, and it strangled itself in his throat, coming out as nothing more than a sob. Now here he was, finally, at the end of all things good and bad. The empty. That forsaken nothingness he’d been running from all those years swallowed him whole afterall. True happiness. And it hadn’t been enough. The lightness he’d felt was swift, like a terrible weight had been lifted on his chest where it had sat. All the years, the burden of yearning with such force it knocked the breath out of his lungs. He couldn’t memorize Dean’s face one last time before it took him.

Now, he was supposed to sleep, but he couldn’t be more awake. He sat surrounded by the dark, trying to recreate that feeling of the first time Dean had touched him. The knife buried in his chest, human body heat more intimate and close than he’d ever anticipated. The spear that felled him.

God was in humans. Chuck was just a vessel for the stories they told. If anyone could kill him, it was the humans he loved, the one he’d sold his soul to. A thousand glances washed over him, and it was enough to create the heaviness of earth that had poisoned him so long ago and float it in the empty. Dean was a juggernaut, and all his anchors were gone now. Achilles come down from the edge .

Can you hear me? The empty cradled him, a phantom hand— Dean’s— caressed his cheek, lulling him. Cas cried out again. Can you hear me?

end 1/3. read it on ao3, as well.

#mine #im posting this as a different format because i want ATTENTION #deancas #destiel #fic

18 notes · View notes

kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

I Know

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: character death, angst, cursing, mild descriptions of wounds and torture.

Summary: almost a year after the readers death, Dean finds himself at the mercy of a witch who knows one of his only weaknesses. You.

A/n: because I’m slowly dying of boredom I decided to do Bad Things Happen bingo. Please send in your preference for the next square!

Fucking Witches. Dean Winchester was officially done with their shenanigans and messed up thought processes. It was like they had a flare for the dramatic. If they were so into killing folks. Why couldn’t they just do it quickly?

Finding himself bound tightly to the old chair in the rundown house the witch had been residing in, Dean for once wished he had dragged Sam along with him on this case. If Sam was here there was no way the witch would still be alive.

Instead here he was. Tied in place and basically steeping in thick silence. How this bitch has got the drop on him was still beyond him. The last thing he remembered before waking up here was driving to one of the witnesses house. He didn’t remember getting out of the car or being tied up. It was almost as if it had all happened in the blink of an eye.

He had already tried struggling and pulling at his restraints but to no avail. The ropes were probably laced with spell work along with the chair, seeing as he couldn’t even shift the price of furniture across the floor. Either that or it was bolted to the floor.

“Son of a bitch-“ he hissed, slightly out of breath from pulling on the ropes. His head whipping around in hopes of finding something to help him get out, but the room was empty of everything except himself.

“Well look who decided to wake up.” It was like she was waiting for the perfect moment, because not a second later the young witch stepped out from beyond the shadows, her black hair hanging in ringlets as her lips twisted into a bright red smile.

Going through his choices quickly, Dean chose to go with the playing dumb act, pretending he had no idea what was going on. Maybe, just maybe he could somehow gain the upper hand.

“I feel like there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t have a clue as to what is going on.”

“Oh but I think you do. You're a hunter.”

“A what? I don’t know what that is. I was just in town to meet up with some old friends.”

The witch smiled again, stalking closer to the bound Winchester, a small hexbag gripped in her freshly polished nails, the polish reflecting the orange candle light slightly. “Oh don’t play dumb with me. You're not just a hunter. You're Dean Winchester.”

Oh for fucks sake. Of course this witch knew who he was. Could he ever catch a break?

“Oh well, ya caught me.” He gave in, flashing her a grin. “Now you want an autograph or something?” Time to think of another plan. If he had enough time to that is.

“Oh no, I thought we’d have some fun first.” Her white smile becoming more menacing as she stopped in front of him, tilting his chin upward and fully catching his gaze.

“No offense Sweetheart, but I ain’t interested.”

“Oh I know. You only ever had eyes for miss Y/N Y/L/N, isn’t that right?” She cooed, her smile widening when his face hardened, his mouth snapping shut, eyes blazing. “Oh struck a nerve did I?”

“How do you-“

“How do I know about her? Oh well that’s easy. I’ve been watching you Winchesters for quite sometime.” She explained, moving to tuck the hexbag into one of the inner pockets of his canvas jacket. “Dean and Y/N. Friends to. . .- well not quite lovers. You were too late for that, weren’t you?”

Everything in him wanted to lash out at her, make her regret ever saying your name, but once more the ropes restricted him from doing so. His struggle barely doing anything to loosen the binds. “So help me if you don’t shut up I’m gonna rip your tongue out.” He growled, feeling the pure white hot rage crawl up his spine.

“Must have been painful losing her, especially when you loved her so much. Only- you never did tell her that did you?”

“I said shut the hell up!”

She was toying with him. Pulling at all the loose strands of his soul. If people really knew Dean Winchester they would know that the key to fully unraveling him was to bring you up. You death had crushed him in more ways than one and now this bitch was using it against him.

“Like I said before, Dean. Let’s have some fun.” She smiled, tapping him on the nose before muttering an incantation under her breath, backing away slowly.

“What the hell did you do to me?”

The hunter was met with silence as she gave him a wink, disappearing around the corner. “Just having some fun and games. Good luck, pretty boy!”

And just like before he went back to struggling against the bindings, the thick rope burning his wrists as he twisted and pulled. He had to get the hex bag off him before it- before it-

It was like a switch had been pulled because not a second later he felt his eyes get heavy and his shoulders slumped, pulling him head first into unconsciousness. When he opened them again he found himself no longer in the rundown house but on a darkened hillside,the moon being the only source of light across the black landscape.

It took him a minute before he finally realized where he was. His eyes falling shut in hopes of finding himself anywhere but there. This was where he had found you, your blood caked body sitting limp and cold against the lone tree not too far off.

This was the night he lost you.

It was like a bucket of ice had been dumped down the back of his shirt as memories came knocking into him like bricks. It was just some fight. You had yelled yourself hoarse after Dean and Sam had returned from a hunt they decided not to tell you about. You had been furious and scared when you didn’t know where they were. And Dean ended up yelling right back, saying things that to this day haunt him. He was trying to keep you safe- and yet everything back fired right in his face. You had stormed off in a rage only for some vamps to find you and—

He clenched his jaw, battling down the memory. He had to figure out how to get out of this magically induced nightmare. He couldn’t live through this again. The first time nearly killed him.

“Dean.”

At the sudden voice he felt his body seize up. No. No this wasn’t real. It wasn’t you.

“Dean.” This time there was more force in your tone, and Dean let himself turn, his breath leaving his lungs as the sight of you.

When he woke up he was gonna gut that witch six ways from Sunday. That bitch was taking evil to a whole new level.

Sure enough, there you stood. Your hair framing your hollowed face as you bore into him, your throat covered in gashes and cuts littered your arms and legs. You looked exactly the same as when he had found you.

“Y/N-“ struggling to speak, he inhaled.

“Words, Dean. Use them.”

“How is this-“

“Witches Dean. C’mon use your damn brain for once. “ your tone becoming menacing as you stepped closer, your bare feet moving heel to toe as you moved through the grass. “But it’s me.”

“You’re disappointed in me, aren’t you?” He sighed, jade eyes glazing over with unshed tears as he watched you. He had so many things he needed to say and yet? They were caught in his throat, a part of him still telling him you were just a hallucination conjured up by the witch.

“Slightly, yes.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I never should have yell—“

“Don’t.” You raises a hand, silencing the hunter in front of you. “You don’t get to be sorry. I’m dead, Dean.”

“I know. And I never should have let you walk out of the bunker after that fight.”

“That was the whole reason for the fight in the first place!” You yelled, eyes widening. “Because you wouldn’t let me go on the damn hunt! You put me on lock down without telling me! Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up and find the people you love the most gone without a word? And then you said you were keeping me safe!” You paused, sucking in a breath. “ Im a hunter, Dean! Or was. Either way you stopped me from helping and doing my job!”

“I know that now, and I am sorry.” His voice breaking as he looked at you. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved so much better. “I loved you too much to risk putting you in danger.”

Your jaw clenched, eyes on the verge of creating tears. “Then why didn’t you tell me that when I was alive?”

“Because I didn’t know how. And you can hate me all you want but I need you to know that I am sorry.”

He could practically see the anger draining from your face- only for it to be replaced with heartbreak and tear stained cheeks. “I bet you are. And do you want to know what the worst part of it all was? I died alone and I died scared.” You own voice wavering as you looked at the older Winchester, successfully shattering his heart all over again. “I died thinking you hated me.”

That. That was what he had always feared. Ever since he found you he had wondered what you had been thinking. With those six little words you broke the remaining pieces that had somehow managed to stay together inside him. He could never make this right. It was too late.

“I think we’re done here. You better wake up.” You have him one last glare before turning on your bare heel, walking off into the dark, the moon casting stark shadows across your frame.

“Y/N, wait!”

With one more blink he found himself back in the falling apart house. He expected to be looking up into the eyes of the witch but instead he was met with the worried cobalt blue eyes of a certain trench coated angel.

“Cas?” The words coming out confused as he felt the hallucination induced tears slide off his face. “What the hell happened?”

The angel tilted his head as he began working on bindings around the hunters wrists. “You prayed earlier. I came.”

“What about the witch?”

“Dead. When I killed her it broke you out of your trance.”

Slowly rising from the chair, Dean rubbed at his tender wrists. “Shame.”

“That I saved you?”

“No, thank you for that by the way. Shame that she’s dead. Would’ve liked to end her myself after what she did to me.”

Heading towards the door, Cas was hot on his heels, curiosity easily getting the best of the celestial. “What did she do?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. It’s done with.” Digging through his coat pockets, Dean produced the keys to the impala, his new mission already set in stone inside his head.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere I have yet to visit in a while.”

“Would you like me to come with?” Cas spoke, knowing exactly where Dean was headed without him having to say so. Whatever the witch had made him see it was the final push Dean needed.

“Nah. It’s alright.I need to do this alone.” Throwing open the driver side door, Dean paused to flip the keys in his hand. “But thanks man. You know for coming and pulling my ass out of the fire. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

*. *. *. *. * .

Even if the numbers on the dashboard read 1:30AM, Dean still found himself putting the impala in park at the edge of the cemetery on the outskirts of Lebanon. Moonlight curved around headstones and the grass was still damp from the earlier rain. Lampposts still lit up the space partially with orange light as the hunter weaves through the headstone, stopping in his tracks once he found yours.

He and Sam had given you a hunters funeral but he still insisted on getting you a headstone. It gave him a place to visit- even if he had yet to until this moment.

“I know it wasn’t really you in the hallucination.” He breathed, hands stuck deep into his pockets as he stared down your name carved into the piece of granite. “But it didn’t hurt any less. That- that illusion of you said some things that in truth made some sense to me. Things I have been telling myself ever since I lost you.”

A soft warm breeze ran through the cemetery, ever so slightly tickling his skin. It was easier to find words here. It was quiet. It allowed him no worries over who else might be listening. You used to say that the dead speak to those who listen. He was listening as best he could.

“If you really died hating me I am so sorry. I should never have held you back. If I hadn’t we never would have gotten into that fight and you never would have stormed out. In the end it was still my fault.” He paused.”I could never hate you.” He could feel the hot tears gathering in his eyes again as he inhaled, bringing his gaze skyward in hopes of keeping the tears in. “I think I was just scared. When I realized I loved you - that I was in love with you. I just wanted to tuck you away and keep you safe from the world. But that’s not how those things work. It took me too long to realize that and I’m so sorry.”

His eyes went back to the granite headstone, the moonlight catching the polished rock just right so that your name shone.

Please be listening.

“I should have told you. I should have told you and not tried to bury it.” His voice cracked. “I love you Y/N. Always have and always will.”

And with that he kissed his index and middle finger, pressing it lightly against the cool granite that was the last piece of you on this earthly plane. It would be the closest he ever came to kissing you.

As he turned to walk back through the cemetery another warm gust of wind went past him, ruffling his hair and he swore- even if it sounded insane out loud that he heard your voice interwoven through the breeze.

“I know.”

End.

SPN Taglist (Still open!)

Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @neerness @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy

#bi-danvers0 #dean imagine #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #spn x reader #supernatural

112 notes · View notes

ilikebeesandflowers · 4 years

Text

Finale? What finale?

That was just the Empty torturing a wayward gay angel... Here’s what really happened after Cas confessed his LOVE to Dean Winchester and was taken to Super Mega Hell...

Unedited, unproofread, unbeta’d- just pure, unadulterated, whiskey-and-rage-fueled fix-it fic. Ps, El Sol cerveza is the official beverage of fake-dream-worlds, and therefore the entire narrative of the finale is sus.

Love Lift Us Up (Where We Belong)

Cas slumbered, but fitfully. Oblivion plagued him with nightmares.

Some dreams replayed memories, even of memories that were not strictly his: one by one, everyone he loved torn apart at an atomic level, rent, poofed to dust. His sleeping self watched on a loop as Bobby, Charlie, Donna, nameless others fell, obliterated.

He saw Michael slay Lucifer, the foregone conclusion so many times delayed.

He saw Michael betray the Winchesters. But how? Why? Michael had changed, hadn’t he? Adam had changed him. Even asleep, Cas knew this to be true.

He watched Jack, his loving and beloved son, fulfilling the promise Kelly had known he held. Jack bringing peace to the world, restoring balance, returning all life on earth to its rightful places. Cas was certain that this dream was true. He felt Jack’s presence, unmistakable lightness and goodness and purity.

The Empty roiled violently, rippling the fabric of its realm.

The dreams changed again to nightmares.

Dean, alone. Sam, alone. Eileen, alone.

The hunters who had died were again whole and alive, walking the earth as if Chuck’s poisonous animosity had never snuffed them. And yet they were all isolated from one another. Oh, the younger children clung to their parents, but the parents drifted from one another.

Charlie, alone. Donna, alone. Claire, alone.

The loneliness of the hunters infected the denizens of the Empty, and the Empty smiled in its sleep.

Cas dreamed that he watched Dean dying, an ignominious death in a ramshackle barn. He felt a wave of revulsion, of jealousy, like he did in another barn, once upon a time, witnessing a kiss between Anna and Dean. What had he felt then, way back when, when feelings were still so new and frightening? Had he been in love then?

The scene repeated, again and again, a horrible parody of what should have been. A confession of love, two foreheads touching, hands held over Dean’s heart. The scene replayed a hundred, a thousand times, Cas viewing from the vantage of the beloved, but Cas never could see who received Dean’s love. He only knew it wasn’t him. He could only watch through someone else’s eyes, hearing and seeing and feeling with intense loathing what should have been his.

Then Dean was dead.

The scene faded again. Cas saw Sam, living on, without Dean, without Jack, without Eileen, without hunters or hunting. In the space of a human heartbeat, he was married, raising a human child, a son. In another heartbeat, he was old, then dying, then greeting his brother in heaven.

He felt again a tug as if Jack were near. A faint glow.

Cas woke. Two amber eyes shone above him.

“Castiel,” said Jack, “something is wrong. I need your help.”

Cas scrambled to his feet. “The dreams? They were real?”

Jack couldn’t know what Cas had seen, and yet he shook his head and assured him that, no, those were the Empty playing tricks. “But reality is in danger. Heaven and Hell are out of balance. Heaven’s brightest are all here, when they should be up there. We’ll have to wake them.”

The Empty howled somewhere far off, something that sounded like, “Let me sleep!”

Jack stepped briskly in the inky blackness, tapping here and there, naming sleeping entities. “Hannah, you are needed. Duma, awaken. Gabriel. Michael. Raphael, your services are humbly requested.”

Soon, the din of awakened angels, archangels, seraphs, and reapers had summoned a furious cosmic entity of entropy and oblivion. “KEEP. IT. DOWN,” it hissed.

“And what will you do if we don’t?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow to the Empty, who stood before them in the guise of Meg Masters, circa 2009.

The Empty stamped its foot. “I took you in. You all died the death of immortals, a death that cannot be rewarded nor punished, but I took you in! And all I ask for is quiet!”

“But why?” Cas continued. “You despise us. Why do you trap us here?”

The Empty hesitated. “They dream,” it replied. “They dream, and so I dream.”

“We suffer nightmares of your making.”

“No-oo. The dreams are yours.”

“You enjoy the nightmares?”

“No.” The Empty faltered. “They wake me up. You stir, I stir; I must sleep!”

Jack spoke softly to the Empty. “Then expel them.”

“Expel them? What, just set them all free to commit chaos?”

“Just the dreamers.”

The Empty seemed to calculate the price of granting the nephilim’s wish. “That would be almost all of the angels and a number of powerful demons. They might return, clomping into my haven and disturbing my sleep.”

“No,” Castiel put in, his eyes lit with a wry smile. “If you expel them, they will be forever banned from your realm. They become subject to Purgatory, not Oblivion.”

Jack smiled at his father. “Exactly!” He turned again to the Empty. “So you’ll do it?” he asked brightly.

The Empty scowled. It nodded once, as if making a decision.

The world went white, then faded to reveal a sunny meadow. Roly-poly bumblebees flitted between fat heads of purple clover. A nest of chickadees chirped. Cicadas droned. A red kite soared above them, the string held by someone a long way off. Cas’ face softened, as if recalling a long-lost memory.

It hardened again as he sensed something amiss. “Jack,” he frowned, “the walls between the human heavens are failing.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, which is why we need more angelic energy. But watch.” He drew a small window in the air with his index finger. He pushed the cut-out, revealing an adjoining heaven belonging to a woman. Cas recognized her as the mother of the man with the kite. Her heaven contained a meadow: the same meadow that surrounded them, rather than the manicured lawn Cas knew from the man’s original heaven.

“They can co-exist,” he breathed.

“Yes. We can break these barriers and open Heaven. It doesn’t need to be a prison. We can fix it.” Jack grinned again, that same old smile he’d worn in life, when he learned the taste of nougat or the softness of a bunny rabbit.

The sight warmed Cas. The summer sky glowed just a bit brighter. “Tell me what to do, my son.”

***

For six days, as Heaven measures time, the angels, the archangels, and the nephilim worked. First, negotiating a truce with Hell and its imperious but righteous Queen, and then building a Heaven for all. On the seventh day, they rested from their labors. They gathered to watch the humans on earth for a little while. Almost no time had passed: the humans had had just enough time to recollect that they had watched their loved ones vanish; those unfamiliar with the supernatural had quickly forgotten the phenomenon, as well. The hunters in the warded hideout had had just enough time to embrace their newly un-vanished friends.

Sam was texting Eileen, only to remember that he still had her phone, abandoned on the sidewalk mid-text. He laughed at himself. “We have to drive to Eileen’s house.”

Dean lay hunched over the table, carving a word into the polished wood alongside the Winchester family initials. Thus far, it read, “CAST,” and he was just starting on the I. “Pack us up- I wanna finish this, but I can be ready in twenty.” They watched as he finished his tribute to Castiel. He put two fingers to his lips, then pressed the finger pads against the grooves.

Cas itched to know how Dean meant the gesture.

Dean hastily scratched the name “JACK” into the table, too. “You done good, kid,” he murmured, patting the letters as he might once have patted Jack on the shoulder.

The angels drifted back to their tasks. Cas stayed, watching his friends. His family. He followed their movements towards Eileen. He witnessed the tearful reunion.

Sam started sniffling long before Dean pulled up behind Eileen’s little red car. He stepped over the sidewalk, where he had first absorbed her death, and a sob escaped him. In a few strides of his long legs, he was at the door. His hand shook as he reached for the doorbell. The second phone in his pocket vibrated: her doorbell notification. How would she know that he was there? He clapped the knocker, stamped his feet.

The door opened. Eileen. A vision, a sight for even Cas’ sore eyes. Sam was overwhelmed. He croaked her name, and she was in his arms. Where she belonged.

Back at the curb, Dean turned his face from the lovers. He fiddled with his phone, but who could he call?

Cas heard Dean think his name. He felt a pang of longing, but it wasn’t his own. Or rather, it matched his own. Echoed his, merged with his, swelling the aching feeling until he felt full to bursting with yearning for something he thought he could never have. Had thought he couldn’t have. Now, he wondered.

He called to his son.

Jack appeared beside him. He followed Cas’ gaze. “It’s time for you to return to him,” he mused.

“Yes, but,” Cas tripped over the words he wanted to say and couldn’t bear to say.

Fortunately, Jack understood. Without another word, he took Cas’ face in his hands. For a moment, their eyes glowed brightly, then Castiel’s dimmed to their customary shade of blue. When Jack’s golden aura had faded as well, he pulled away from Cas. He glanced down at the slim vial now slung around his neck by a black cord. The substance within sparkled, swirled, its hue a dazzling, electric blue-white. It looked like lightning in a bottle.

Cas swept his son into a crushing embrace. “Thank you,” he wept.

“You can always come home,” Jack told him.

Cas pulled back. “No. Where I’m going is home.” He smiled through the tears rushing down his cheek. “Goodbye, Jack. I love you.”

He rather felt than heard Jack’s reply, as he crossed from the celestial plane to the mortal realm. He stood now on that same sidewalk. Far to his right, Sam lifted Eileen, carrying her bridal-style into her home, letting the door slam behind them. To his left, a long black car. He gripped the passenger door handle, pulled it open. The hinges squeaked. He folded himself inside before turning to the driver.

Dean looked every bit as awed as Cas felt. This was right.

Before he could say anything, even so much as a simple “Hello, Dean,” he found himself in Dean’s arms. Where he belonged.

#destiel #saileen #Castiel #sam x eileen #supernatural debacle #spn fixit fic #15.20 #long post #sorry I’m on mobile

8 notes · View notes

eyes-of-fanfiction-green · 5 years

Text

At This Crossroads We Stand

Summary: Dean dreams of a crossroads.

A/N This is a sort of metaphorical prose. I know I haven’t written a lot lately, but it was 2am and I suddenly felt inspired so I apologize in advance. I’m graduating college soon and I feel like my life is a mess, so yeah, this is my method of processing.

———————————————————————

He's standing at a crossroads. The night is dark and the moon is howling. The yearning in his chest won't ease and every one of the four directions pull him in and yet pushes him out.

He's standing at a crossroads. The moon seems to glare down at him, its looming iridescence taunts him with dreams and possibilities. It pulls his eyes towards the beautiful light it glows, while distracting him of The eerie shadows it casts about his feet. The moon seems so far away, so it most be good.

Because all things that are out of reach are things that should be reached for. Right?

He glances away from the moon for a moment, his gaze realizing the darkness he stands in. The parts the moon cannot touch, no matter how brilliant and full it hangs among the stars. He stares at the shadows creeping across the four roads and the weaving dance it sways with the grass. The grass was green this morning, but now all he sees is grays and shadows, if shadows are a color of their own. The green is gone now.

It cannot be seen therefore it must no longer be there. Right?

He is standing at a crossroads. His feet shift uneasily into the dirt and rocks underneath his tread. Solid ground. He stands on solid ground. But what good is solid ground if it does not move? What good is that which takes you nowhere? The dirt stretches in four directions. North. South. East. West. But where they lead he cannot see, the darkness swallows them whole. The shadows dance over them until they consume and the moon offers no comfort to illuminating what is far away.

Because nothing is lit that is not right before your eyes. Right?

He is standing at a crossroads.

And he is alone.

Or he was alone. Is he still alone? Was he ever alone?

Because the wind carries a voice to his ears and it sounds like the gravel beneath his feet. It sounds rough, but it warms his heart, and why would something as sharp as gravel do that? The grating voice deepens with pain, it lightens with love, it soars not into his ears but his soul. And he looks to the South and there is the voice.

For every voice comes from somewhere. Right?

The gravel has wings and its shadow is as tall as the Chrysler building. It calls to his heart and pulls his feet to the South. The darkness remains, but now twin blues are his beacons.

But as his third step is taken, another voice comes. It lacks any gravel, but it brings warmth to his mind. A sound so familiar he could follow in the dark, he could follow in the shadows, he could follow in the moonlight. The voice comes from the East and it's taller than it used to be, but it never really matters. Nothing ever changes with the voice from the East, no matter how far to the West he ran in the past.

Because the past always passes. Right?

He's standing at a crossroads. He's torn, his feet freeze. South or East? South or East? or...West?

An old voice comes from the West. A voice older than the East and more commanding than the South. The West chills his bones and he dares not look. He knows what the West will say and he does not want to hear it. He wants to hear his own voice, but he can't hear it above the chatter and the moon and the shadows and the dirt and the pebbles in his shoes. He wants the West to go away, but still he knows the West can sway him more then the South or East combined. He hates it and he loves it and he asks the West to stay.

Three roads in opposite directions. Three yelling at him now. They each know the way and their voices clash like an un-tuned orchestra. Rasping, yelling, his ears are bleeding. His feet shuffle back and forth and back and forth. They stumble and pull, and his feet do not listen to their master. They listen to the voices, growing louder and harsher and they pull back and forth and back and forth.

And...

Three roads...

Three...

And then there's a fourth. The voice of the North is not loud, it is quiet. It does not stand tall and it does not cast a shadow of its own. It comes to him like a whisper. Like a cloud covering over his ears. It blends with the other voices and gives a small tug at his heart. Tugging it to the North. But it doesn't pull. It just whispers.

He doesn't know this voice.

He doesn't think he could ever know this voice.

This voice has no substance, but bears over all. A void that whispers, that tugs, that waits. It waits, and it grows. But not when you're watching. The voice has no form, and the voice has no owner. But suddenly the South and the East and the West are in harmony. They beg him to not listen to the North. The North is tricky and it spins a tall tale, of promises and hopes, and most of which will fail. But the North hums, and it latches to his heart... what could be, what might be, what if...what if he just moves and his feet follow North?

The harmony is lost, and the whisper roars its head, and he collapses to the ground clutching his ears and screaming for them to stop. He's screaming, he is. Or at least he thinks so. But he can't hear his voice, because the voices of the South and the East and the West and the North, they ring in his head. Louder. Louder. Faster. Faster. He can't breathe, he can't move. But he's gasping, he's trying. But where is his voice?

And now there's a clock.

It quickly stutters across the moon, covering up the moonlight. And chaos grows and the ticking rings, not around him, but within him. And it grows and it grows. And he can't breathe, and he's gasping, he's rasping. His lungs are tight and the voices are like thunder. They rage wars in his head. He prays for peace and nothing comes clear. Just the clock, and the voices, and the shadows, and the darkness, and the dirt, and the pebbles beneath his feet.

And he opens his eyes.

And he breathes.

He is standing at a crossroads.

There are four roads. One to the South, one to North, one to the East, and one to the West.

He breathes.

The moon still shines. It never went away.

Now he hears a sound. It is soft, but it is clear. It rings like crystal and a fine violin. The dance of a bow across delicate strings. It does not come from the roads. It does not come from the moon. Or the shadows, or the darkness, or the dirt, or the pebbles in his shoes. It comes from him. And it is pure.

His feet move.

He takes a step.

................................................

Dean's eyes flicked open with a start. His vision clouding then clearing before he sees his bedroom ceiling, it's fan gliding round and round, a perfect loop.

"Dean?"

He looked over at Cas and let a small smile play on his lips. "It's alright Cas, go back to sleep. Just dreaming."

He rolls to his side. Eyes closing and body warming.

"What did you dream of?"

"....Just life."

40 notes · View notes

dothwrites · 5 years

Text

15x02 coda--be like wool

“Come now, let us settle the matter,” said the LORD. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” --Isaiah 1:18

Forgiveness is weakness.

That thought was beaten into his brain long ago, by his father, by other hunters, by life itself. By God, it turns out. Every time Dean tries to turn the other cheek, every single time, he only gets slapped again, except harder. And that’s if he’s lucky. If he’s not lucky, then he gets punched. Maybe even shot.

Anyone who hurt you would do again, if given the right set of circumstances. It’s why Dad always said that once a monster killed, they had to be put down. Like a dog that tasted blood--you had to put it down, otherwise the flock was never safe afterward.

Dean doesn’t forgive. And he doesn’t forget. So when Cas, fucking Castiel, shows his face, he can’t stop the instinctive surge of anger that’s tied to Mom, tied to Jack, tied to betrayal, and how many times is Cas going to lie to him before Dean wises up and realizes that no matter how many beers he drinks, no matter how many idioms he masters, Cas is always going to be an angel? He’s never going to understand human emotions, certainly never going to feel them.

Cas doesn’t understand the howling chasm of rage and loss that swirls in the pit of Dean’s stomach. The continuous torrent makes him sick. Every time Dean manages to catch a few minutes of sleep, he wakes angry, with his eyes narrowed to a laser focus and his mouth tasting like bile.

Jack was his--no, he was theirs, there was never a moment when Jack was purely his--Jack was their son. Jack killed Mom. Chuck killed Jack.

Chuck broke the world, and for no other reason than he didn’t approve of improv.

Cas...just complicates everything further.

With his apologies and his He was ours, and his dreams of family, and his We are...Dean can’t look at Cas without seeing Mom, without feeling the weight of her body in his arms, without scenting her shampoo.

And now she’s gone, just when he’d gotten her back, and Dean can’t...He can’t...

So he focuses on the mission, on the problem directly in front of him, on the fact that the world is splitting apart at the seams. He puts band-aids on disasters as they arise, and all the while he swallows that kernel of hatred and anger and lets it rot inside him. Because worse than the grief, worse than the loss, worse than knowing that his entire life was scripted for him by a deadbeat writer trying for a daytime Emmy...worse than all of that is the need that boils inside him.

He needs Cas with him. Sam on one side, Cas on the other, and that’s how they get through things. That’s how they survive, that’s how they win. He needs Cas’ infinite compassion, his endurance, his intelligence...He needs Cas. He has for a long time.

He’s like a magnet caught in a never-ending cycle of attraction and repellence, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he explodes. He just hopes that he can manage to put some of these damn ghosts to rest before it happens.

He finds Cas outside the school, sitting on one of the benches. His hands are folded, as if he’s in prayer. For all Dean knows, the poor stupid son of a bitch might be. He hates that about Cas, the need to believe in something greater than himself, the unwavering devotion to serve. He loves that Cas still has a nugget of faith somewhere in him.

“It’s getting cold,” Dean greets. Cas’ head jerks towards him, surprise evident in his eyes. Dean allows himself the human emotion of amusement: it’s not that often that you sneak up on an angel. He sees Cas getting ready to respond. Years of experience have taught him to anticipate Cas’ response. “Yeah, I know, you don’t feel the cold. Good for you.”

Cas regards him steadily, but his eyes are a fucking warzone. Once Cas discovered the wide world of human emotions, he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. His struggle is writ clear in the irises of his baby blues: the naked misery over losing Jack, the lingering resentment that Dean hasn’t told Belphagor to go back to Hell yet, the same fear that he feels--Are they enough? Will they be enough? Is there any way that any of them make it out of this alive? There’s the longing, which Dean pretends like he doesn’t see.

So Cas is conflicted. Join the fucking club pal.

“Was there a reason you came here?” Cas’ voice is stiff. Aloofness doesn’t fit him well, and he’s still stretching to fill the crevices.

Rage rises in him, by now an obedient dog coming willingly, if not eagerly, to its master’s call. How dare--How dare Cas, after everything he did, after everything that happened...But then he remembers the particular way that Cas’ face broke after Dean pushed past him, the strength in his voice as he said We Are.

Even after everything, Cas is still fighting for him. For them.

“I’m tired.” The confession slips out of him like smoke, gone before Dean can even think about yanking it back. “I’m just...I’m so fucking tired Cas.”

Cas doesn’t even blink, doesn’t waver. “So rest,” he says, as if it were that easy. Maybe it is.

Bonelessly, Dean slips onto the bench. The night air closes around him, nips at his neck and wrists and threatens to slip underneath the fabric of his jacket, but when he sits closer to Cas, the cold disappears. His forehead finds its way onto Cas’ shoulder and Dean breathes in the scent of him, grass after a rainstorm, sharp hint of ozone. It’s Cas, and Dean falls into him.

“I’m so tired,” he repeats, until the words slur together in a never-ending mantra. “Cas, Cas, I’m so tired.”

Cas’ fingers thread through his hair and rub at his scalp. Dean hates him, purely and viciously. In a way, he’s hated Cas for years.

“So rest,” Cas murmurs. It might be Dean’s imagination, but he thinks he feels the brush of lips over his forehead. He feels Cas’ breath ruffle through his hair, feels Cas’ fingers settle at the nape of his neck. Dean needs him, Dean loves him, so fiercely that he can’t breathe around the pain of it. “So rest Dean.”

It’s not anything close to forgiveness. It might never be. But Dean doesn’t need forgiveness. What he needs is right here, as steady as the earth and unknowable as the unwritten page.

“So watch yourselves. “If your brothers and sisters sin against you, rebuke them, and if they repent, forgive them. Even if they sin against you seven times in a day, and seven times come back to you saying ‘I repent’, you must forgive them.” --Luke 17:3-4

#supernatural #spn spoilers #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #15x02 #spn15 #coda #15x02 coda #coda fic #fare thee well spn #welcome to the end #castiel #dean winchester #dothwrites

64 notes · View notes

pessimisticlatte · 5 years

Text

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 12

~ Marichat ~ Adrienette ~ Lukagami ~ Chlobrina ~ Alynino ~ Lila Rossi x Dying a Terrible Death ~ Gabriel Agreste x Eating a Bag of Shit ~ Emilie x Nathalie

~REVEAL HAS BEEN DONE!~

Gabriel tasted the jealousy and anger coursing through the emotional web of Paris. The emotion was syrupy on his tongue, thick and sweet and cloying, intoxicating. Hands clasped behind his back, Gabriel entered his office and locked the door, the strength of the delicious furiosity sizzling on his tongue told him that this person, the person releasing such strong waves of emotion, was going to be perfect. Pressing the buttons on Emilie’s painting that took him to his lair, Gabriel buzzed with the emotional high and the delirious excitement that came before he akumatized someone. Sinking down the metallic tunnel, he plucked Nooroo’s brooch from his breast pocket and called the Kwami into physical existence.

“M-master, ca-can you feel it?” Nooroo was shaking, his being was more forcefully entwined with the emotional auras surrounding him, the particular tidal wave he was asking about was so strong it had almost completely drowned out any other emotions that should be pricking the back of his skull.

“Yes, Nooroo, isn’t it glorious?” Gabriel’s lungs felt larger than they ever had in his entire life, his chest swelling with excitement.

“Ye-yes, master,” The Butterfly Kwami’s normally thin voice had grown even more watery, wavering in the air. The platform landed in the Butterfly Chamber, Gabriel’s white butterflies fluttering around the room, the soft beating of their wings calming. As Gabriel stalked into the middle of the room, the butterflied kicked up and floated away from him, resting in the darkened corners of the chamber. The great window opened and looked out across Paris, tied into a constant stream broadcast from cameras all over the city, once he had made his villain, he would be able to see through their eyes on the screen before him. Multiple cameras flickered between different locations, streets and homes and shops, even Adrien’s school.

“Nooroo, dark wings rise,” Nooroo was sucked into the brooch now pinned to Gabriel’s cravat, Hawkmoth’s suit bleeding from it and wrapping around his body. The cane Gabriel had chosen as Nooroo’s weapon, solidified in his hand and with a masterful twirl, Gabriel cracked the bottom of the cane against the stone floor and summoned a butterfly to him. Holding the insect gently in his palm, Gabriel watched as one of the screens showed a girl with terribly bleached blonde hair practically fuming on a balcony at the Franciose Dupont college. He couldn’t see who she was looking at but he could taste her fury. “Fly, my little Akuma, and evilise her.”

Imbuing the butterfly with malicious intent, Gabriel sent it out through the screen focusing on the girl. The insect collided with her hand, sinking into a faux rolex watch clasped around her wrist.

“Hawmoth, we meet again,” A dark grin spread across the girl’s face as she absorbed his power. Her hands tightened on the railing beneath them, her rage flaring brighter and higher, a drug to Gabriel’s senses. “I shall bring you Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses but you must give me Adrien Agreste’s heart in return. I know that he is your son.”

A strange request. “What use do you have for his heart, Revenger?”

“Only the power that comes with his name will fix me, will make my life what I deserve,” Her voice took on a very dark tone, the pure malice oozing from her vocal chords was terrifying.

“Then you will have what you desire, Revenger, but bring me those miraculouses,”

“What power do you bestow upon me, Hawkmoth?”

“The power to make anyone you touch see their loved ones for the darkest parts of themselves, once they have been infected they will follow you and only you as you will be a paragon of purity in their eyes,”

“Thank you, Hawkmoth,” Purple smoke enveloped her body, Lila Rossi faded into Revenger. A black suit that seemed to swallow light formed around her body, wrapping like bandages. A small crossbow dropped into her hand out of thin air, a small quiver of bolts formed on her thigh and was secured by a belt around her waist. Her hair returned to its natural lustrous brunette, the bald patches regrowing and the once dead locks regained life.

“A gift to you, Revenger, once you cease to be under my control, your new hair will remain as it is now,” It wasn’t exactly a gift, the fashion designer part of Gabriel (so 99% of him) absolutely hated the way the bottle blonde made her look. She looked pallid and yellow, sickly. It wasn’t flattering.

“You are too kind,” Lila climbed up on the railing and balanced perfectly on the balls of her feet. “I am Revenger and you have scorned me for the last time. Let the world see you for who you truly are.”

Marinette and Adrien’s eyes snapped up to Lila, the girl stick straight and menacing. Lila raised the crossbow and notched a bolt, aiming it at Marinette’s neck. Gabriel’s screen formed to show what Lila was seeing, he saw his son with a dark haired girl, her legs stretched across his lap. Adrien had a girlfriend and he hadn’t told Gabriel? How had his son become so selfish? As Lila pressed her finger to the trigger, loosing the bolt toward the couple, a green figure leapt in front and lifted a turtle shell shield.

The bolt bounced off and pinged into the ground, melting away and reappearing in Lila’s quiver.

“Marinette, Adrien, go,” Carapace yelled at them, his shield held in front of him, legs braced so the next impact would not knock him back. “Go!”

Adrien scrambled to his feet and grabbed Mari’s hand, pulling her after him as he ran as quickly as his legs would take him. Lila nocked another bolt and shot it at the retreating couple, missing. An angry scream tore from her throat as the bolt smacked into a metal pillar and disintegrated. Shield still raised, Carapace ran backwards out of the courtyard, his eyes scanning the space below the balcony, Lila guessed that other students were currently under there. Her eyes snapped to the alcove across the room from where she stood, Chloe Bourgeois had leapt in front of Mylene, Sabrina, and Nathaniel, her arms outstretched. She was more than willing to take one of Lila’s bolts to protect the three behind her.

“Ivan!” Chloe’s eyes focused across the room from herself. “Get everyone on your side out the door! Mylene, Nathaniel, Sabby, you have to run.”

“Chloe, no!” Sabrina placed a shaking hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “You can’t stay here.”

“If it gets you guys out, I don’t give a shit,” The blonde girls jaw set, her shoulders rolling, and her stance unwavering. “Pollen, BUZZ ON!”

She knew that she had no choice but to transform here, Nino had been able to duck into the boys bathroom and transform but if Chloe moved an inch, Lila would loose another bolt and strike down those behind her. The yellow and black suit stretched across Chloe’s body and solidified.

“Sabby, Mylene, Nathaniel, GO!” Sabrina’s eyes were wide but she listened to her girlfriend’s words and pushed the fear frozen Mylene forward, gripping Nathaniel’s sleeve. Lila shot a bolt, Chloe dived to the side and deflected it with the chitinous vambraces now protecting her forearms. She shot another, hoping to catch any of the students as they ran but her aim was off and Chloe kept smacking the bolts away using the vambraces.

“Woohoo, Pollen!” Chloe released a joyful whoop. “These are damn cool! Glad you took inspiration from Wonder Woman with her indestructible braces. I could marry you!”

“SHUT UP!” Lila was fuming. Rage boiled in her veins and clouded her vision.

“Aim for her neck, Revenger,” Hawkmoth’s voice cooed in her mind.

“I would if she stopped moving!” Lila gritted her teeth and shot another bolt, Chloe ducked out of the way and did a handspring over the next bolt she released.

‘Hey, fuck you, Rossi,” The heel of someone’s boot made contact with Lila’s temple and sent her sprawling off the railing, landing with an oof on the courtyard floor. Rolling backwards, Lila uncurled to her feet and stood with the crossbow nocked and braced on her forearm. The person who had kicked her was Rena Rouge, now standing a few feet down the railing Lila had been balanced upon. Rena’s flute twirled behind her back before she caught it in front of her with one hand and launched into a one handed cartwheel, pressing the flute to her lips. “Heard you could use some help, Queen Bee.”

“I have never been more glad to see you in my entire life, Rouge,” Alya played a gentle tune through the flute, Lila couldn’t hear what she played but Chloe could. Chloe knew that she was calling Marinette, Adrien, Nino, Luka, and Kagami to join the fray, telling them that the school was clear and that the only people left were them. “Wanna whip some lying ass?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Alya released a laugh and flipped down off the railing, Lila followed her movements with the end of her crossbow, her finger itching to pull the trigger. As Alya reached Chloe’s side, Lila pressed down and loosed the bolt, aiming for her throat. Almost lazily, Chloe stretched her arm out and deflected it away from Alya. “Damn, thank you.”

“All in a day’s work,” The glass of the skylight above came crashing down, Chloe held her braced arms above her head to protect herself as Alya did a back handspring out of the way of the sharp shower. Kagami, as Ryuko, landed in the middle of the courtyard, her blade drawn and pointed loosely at Lila, the champion fencer’s stance was perfect and fearless.

“I think it would be best if you dropped that crossbow, Revenger,” Complete indifference woven through her steady tone as she flung the sword up, it flipped in the air, and she caught it in her opposite hand, pushing the foot on that side forward to brace herself.

“I think it would be best if all of you WENT TO HELL!” Lila pulled the trigger, Kagami arched her blade through the air and severed the bolt. Unlike the ones that had missed or that Chloe and Nino had deflected, this one didn’t disintegrate and remained in two perfect, wooden halves on the concrete floor.

“That sounds like a no to me,” Luka came to a skidding halt beside Alya, his lyre clasped in one hand as he watched his girlfriend stare down Lila with such terrifying intensity. “Honestly, Lila, this looks like a no win situation for you.”

“I,” Lila nocked a bolt. “Do,” She balanced the crossbow on her forearm. “Not,” She cracked her neck. “Lose,” Lila pressed the trigger, aiming for Luka this time.

“Honestly? I am directly in front of you and you still want to shoot them?” Kagami lazily cut through the bolt again, the two halves of the shaft skidding across the floor. Luka laughed, Alya rolled her eyes, and Chloe flipped open a panel on her vambraces, sending a direct message to Marinette’s yoyo and Adrien’s baton.

“It looks like you’re losing to me,” The voice came from above the congregation, Chat was lounging on the railing of the balcony, his leg hanging down over the side and swinging back and forth. His baton was secured to his lower back and he appeared to be admiring the clawed nails on the tips of his fingers. “But who am I to judge what you think winning is?”

“You,” Lila changed where her crossbow was pointed, aiming it at Chat’s head. Nonchalantly picking at his teeth, Adrien was completely ready for her shooting a bolt at him. Nino was actually standing on the roof, looking through the skylight, with Marinette, if Lila tried to shoot him, Nino would drop through the roof in front of Adrien and deflect the bolt.

“Me?” Adrien tipped his head and placed a hand on his chest.

“Give me your miraculous,” She was so angry that the hand holding the crossbow had begun to shake, her stance less steady than it was before he’d arrived. “And give me your friends ones too.”

“Let me think about that,” Adrien reclined back on the railing and folded his arms behind his head. “What do you guys think? Viperion? Should I give ‘em all up?”

“That seems like effort to me, Chat,” Luka gave a half-hearted shrug, a grin playing on his lips.

“What about you, Queen Bee? Do you think she deserves them?” He looked down at his friends lazily, the blonde waves of his hair gliding across his forehead.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Chloe paused. “NOT.”

“It looks like you’ve stung Queen Bee, Revenger,” Adrien stretched his hanging leg out and arched his back slightly. “Rena Rouge, do you disagree with our friends?”

“It’s hard to disagree if they’re right,” Alya slung her flute across her back languidly, rolling her neck and shoulders.

“Ryuko,” Still swinging his leg, Adrien strung out the vowels of Kagami’s hero name. “You’re the deciding vote; should she have them or should we beat her ass?”

“I think that is a given, Chat Noir,” Kagami’s eyes didn’t leave Lila, the cold intensity in them sending goose bumps across the villain’s skin.

“It looks like you’ve been outvoted, Revenger,” Chat at up and rested his elbow on the leg propped up upon the railing. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way-”

“STOP FUCKING STALLING!” Lila pulled the trigger, sending the bolt flying toward Adrien’s golden head. Just as ceremoniously as Nino had planned, he dropped from the skylight and sent the bolt bouncing off across the courtyard, landing and rolling expertly, Nino raised his shield toward Lina from her left.

“And you thought that we’d leave Chat, of all people, to be an idiot undefended?” Nino looked up over the rim of his shield, of course Adrien wouldn’t be left within shooting range undefended. None of them would do that, Chloe shouldn’t have even done that but she could deflect the bolts, Adrien couldn’t.

“ARGGHHH!” She released an angry scream and shot a bolt at Nino, it bounced off his shield as he ducked back behind it with a laugh.

“I get that he’s a sitting duck but he can literally deflect them, are you actually thinking this through?” Alya gestured toward Nino. Lila shot a bolt toward Alya, which Kagami sliced in half almost immediately with a small, tired sigh.

“Where is Ladybug?” Lila’s scream echoed through the courtyard, reverberating across the concrete and metal with distressing pitch.

“My lady,” Adrien sang, looking up through the skylight. A red blur dropped from the roof and landed gently on Lila’s right. “There you are, we were beginning to think that you got lost.”

“I’m the one with the sense of direction, Kitty,” Marinette raised her fists in front of her face and took a fighting stance, she’d been taking martial arts since she could walk and Ladybug’s yoyo wasn’t as useful a close combat weapon as Kagami’s sword, Adrien’s baton, or Nino’s shield. Chloe had forgone a weapon, relying on stingers she could release from her fingertips when she wanted to. Luka and Alya were both ranged heroes, their musical instruments allowing them to throw sound if they chose to do so. “I see you’ve met the gang, Revenger. How do you like our little group?”

“I want you gone,” Lila ran toward Marinette, the crossbow slung on the hip opposite to her quiver, fists raised. Mari slapped her hand away and landed a blow to the villain’s abdomen, winding her and sending her sprawling backwards. Nino and Kagami advanced, Adrien dropped from the railing and pulled his baton from the small of his back, extending it. Lila pulled herself back up and continued to wail on Marinette clumsily, Mari blocked every blow and ducked beneath a weak kneed kick Lila swung toward her. Realising that she was surrounded, Lila tried to swipe and slap at all three of them at once, her movements clumsy and off-kilter. Kagami had sheathed her sword and taken a stance similar to Mari’s, she wasn’t just a trained fencer but she was also a black belt in Karate and dabbled in competitive judo; Kagami was a force to be reckoned with. Nino’s shield was still raised, he held it over his chest and abdomen, protecting the soft parts of his body from any blows Lila might accidentally land.

Trying to fight both Marinette and Kagami, Lila was beginning to tire. Hawkmoth’s whispering in her ear was ignored, she was too angry, too destructive, she had ceased to care about the power he had gifted her. Alya and Luka looked at each other, the small group crowding the flailing Lila starting to grow ever smaller. Lila landed a punch to Mari’s cheek, sending blood flying from Marinette’s mouth and onto the floor; the sight shocked Alya to the core as Kagami grabbed Lila’s fist and launched her into Nino’s shield, the villain’s body smacking the ground thickly. Raising the flute to her lips, Alya played a gentle, healing melody, the music wrapped around Mari’s bruised jaw and drew out the pain, healing her. With a grateful grin to her best friend, Marinette crossed the floor to Lila and snapped her crossbow. No akuma was released.

“Check her watch,” Nino had lowered his shield to sit at his site, secured to his arm. Marinette reached down and pulled the faux rolex from Lila’s wrist, stomping the time piece beneath her heel. The dark purple butterfly flew free from the watch and tried to flutter away, releasing her yoyo with a small flick of her wrist, Marinette caught the akuma.

“No more evildoing for you,” She released the now white butterfly from the yoyo and watched it fly away. “Bye bye, little butterfly.”

As she hadn’t used Lucky Charm, Marinette couldn’t fix anything, not that she actually cared about Lila’s watch. The brunette girl’s costume melted away, the luxurious mane of hair Hawkmoth had given her remained, falling messily over her shoulders.

“Fuck you, Ladybug,” Lila tentatively pulled herself to her feet and wiped an oozing smudge of blood off her face with her sleeve, her nose was bleeding profusely. “Fuck all of you.”

“Fuck you too,” Luka wanted to feel included. Lila shot him an incredibly greasy glare and stormed from the building.

“That could’ve gone worse,” Adrien wrapped his arm around Marinette and kissed her inky hair. “Great job team.”

“Yeah,” “Good job, guys,” “We kicked ass,” responses melted together as the group stood in the destroyed courtyard.

“I-I should do Lucky Charm so we can fix the roof,” Mari pulled out of Adrien’s hold and called upon her power. Not paying attention to what the spell gave her, Marinette tossed it into the air and released a cloud of ladybugs that fixed the smashed roof. “Tikki, spots off.”

The group returned to their civilian forms and fled the courtyard before anyone else could come. Eventually, the students returned to the school, reporters asking them for stories of what happened, the now civilian superheroes blended into the shaken crowd. Adrien held Mari’s shaking hand, Chloe ran to Sabrina and hugged her tightly, Nino rubbed his hand gently up and down Alya’s back, Luka pressed a kiss to the back of Kagami’s hand which made her blush. All the other students had seen Chloe transform but, somehow, they had all come to the unanimous decision not to tell any of the reporters or even the teachers. Because Chloe had put herself in front of her classmates, she had put herself at risk for their safety, the perception of her had changed. When Chloe released the now sobbing Sabrina, Ivan walked up to her and thanked her profusely for protecting his girlfriend, Chloe pulled Mylene into a hug and promised the smaller girl, and her boyfriend, that she would protect them no matter what. Mylene’s eyes started to fill with tears, this girl had bullied her for so many years but had been willing to sacrifice herself; with beautiful gentleness, Chloe wiped Mylene’s tears away and promised, again, that no one would ever have to fear her again. Ivan pulled Mylene away, both gave Chloe sincere and watery smiles, and sat down on a bench side by side.

“You have changed,” Marinette placed her hand on Chloe’s wrist and looked at her earnestly.

“I told you I had,” Sabrina walked back over to Chloe and took her girlfriend’s hand, squeezing.

“Thank you, Chloe,” Mari gave her a quick hug and returned to her boyfriend.

“Are you alright, Sabby?” Her eyes roamed over the face of the redhaired girl beside her. Sabrina’s eyes were wide, fearful and awed. She didn’t look harmed in the slightest. Without warning, Sabrina released Chloe hands and gripped the blonde girl’s cheeks, pulling her face down to meet her level. Sabrina kissed Chloe, cheers and gasps rising up around them as their lips moved together. She’d insisted that Chloe keep their relationship quiet until she was ready but Sabrina couldn’t wait any longer, releasing Chloe from the kiss, Sabrina pressed her forehead to Chloe’s. “I-...uh...wow.”

“I love you, Chloe Bourgeois,” Sabrina’s voice was thick with unshed tears as she looked into Chloe’s sparkling blue eyes.

“I love you too, Sabrina Raincomprix,” The two girls kissed sweetly again, their classmates letting out happy whoops for the two as they held each other.

~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~

@camelliaflwr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mochegato @lady-charinette @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @aussie-lesbian @imgaydontshoot @nifflerstorm @hnbutt @katieykat513 @severalverysmallmangoesinabasket

DM to be tagged!!

31 notes · View notes

xfanfics · 4 years

Photo

Destiel Fic Rec List Part 4

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: 31 fics.

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

-----

The Shadow at My Window ❤ by Zombiecat E | 141k | Hot, AU, Underage, Wing!kink

As a fledgling angel, Castiel is not allowed to interact with humanity. He should be strictly observing and concentrating on learning to be a warrior of Heaven. Even so, he cannot seem to stop himself from visiting the human boy that leaves his window open at night. At first, it's only to get a glimpse of their world.. but all that changes the night he saves the boy's life.

AMAZING!!! I'm a huge fan of both wing!kink and the underage romance trope, and this hits the spot. I read this from when it was a WIP (on chapter 12), and it was so worth it.

Fearson's floating cigarette. by orange_crushed M | 11k | Fluff, Magicians AU

"That son of a bitch," Dean says. He strangles the handful of french fries he’s been holding, and one by one their warm, helpless, potato-y insides crumble over the tops of his fingers. He feels a brief burst of irrational, almost homicidal rage. "That floppy bow-tie wearing son of a bitch.” Dean is gonna kill Jimmy Wonderman. He’s gonna shove a never-ending string of scarves down his throat. He’s gonna make him eat balloon animals until he floats off into space.

This was so sweet and charming I'm going to cry. Castiel's gentleness and pure heart is really explored in this fic, and I LOVE it.

Sweaters & Cigarettes ❤by lemonoclefox E | 149k | Hot, Fluff, High SCchool AU, punk cas, nerd dean

Dean Winchester is in high school, crushing hard on Castiel Novak, the unbelievably hot goth who Dean does his very best to convince himself he hates, despite the fact that he can’t really stop staring at him. Dean tries, but when the two of them finally cross paths, their first conversation takes a surprising turn. And suddenly, they both find themselves falling harder and faster than they ever could have expected.

LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS FIC! The trope reversal is perfect, and in short, this is one of my favorite high school AUs EVER.

Shortskirts 'Verse by twentysomething E | 22k | High School AU

So, they're in high school, and then they're in college, and it's mostly not about Taylor Swift, except when it is.

Leave My Body, Moving Up to Higher Ground by triedunture E | 17k | Alt!canon, Genderswap

Castiel must take a new vessel to return to earth, so he strikes a deal with a woman who isn't as willing as Jimmy had been. But Dean's in a bad way and Leviathan needs to be smote, so what else can he do? Wonderful and heartbreakingly lovely. Gender swap, of a sort.

A Treatise on Longing by araftatsea T | 8k | Angst, Alt!Canon, Aging

Set post-8x23: Cas falls and is reborn as a human infant. Dean waits for him. He wonders how he's going to explain to this guy that he was an angel, once, and he wonders whether Cas will still want him. Or if he ever did.

Oh god, this fic huuuurts. But in a good way.

Santorum Will Pry My Porn From My Cold Dead Hands by AlreadyPainfullyGone E | 41k | Pornstar AU

President Santorum bans all pornography, and Dean decides to start his very own prohibition racket. Unfortunately, the only person he can find to 'perform' is Castiel.

Lots of porn. Complete with in denial!dean and confident!cas.

One Night at Club Radiant by octoberskyfall E | 16k | Hot, Stripper AU, Dom!Cas

When Charlie showed up at the garage with a six-pack of El Sol and an order for him to chug them down before they reached the bar, Dean knew he was in for one hell of a night. Featuring Stripper!Cas and light Dom!Cas because of reasons. Happy Birthday, Dean!

Damn. Just um--yes. Please.

Gargoyles on Motorcycles by mandraco E | 24k | Office AU, Socially Awkward Cas

After the latest in Dean's long string of one night stands steals the Impala and totals it, he makes a bet with Sam that he can abstain from sex while he repairs it. But Lisa and Matt's wedding is coming up and Dean needs a date he'll never be attracted to. Enter Castiel.

Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives by cymbalism E | 14k | Fluff, Alt!Canon

After the apocalypse, Dean's living with Lisa and earning his keep by cooking dinner. Cas likes that Dean can cook. Dean likes Cas's company. But they could use a little alone time, and Dean has a lot to learn about what the rest of his life really means.

Smoke in the Mirror by letters_of_stars M | 52k

It begins with the flier hung in the library: art model needed for thesis project, will pay. Castiel figures it's an easy way to make some extra money, but modeling for Dean Winchester ends up complicating his life far beyond anything he could have imagined.

Selfie with a stranger by somuchforbaggles T | 1k | Fluff, AU

Cas lied to his family about having a boyfriend, and now they want actual photographic evidence. There's only one thing he can do - take a selfie with a stranger.

This is just adorable. Instant feel-good fic.

Paper-Thin by snarkymonkey E | 15k | Fluff, Hot, College AU, Dom!Cas, Sub!Dean, Professor!Cas

Dean is finishing up his master's program, heading on for a PhD in Engineering but spends most of the time silently ogling his gorgeous next-door neighbor, the new adjunct professor of English, pursuing his dissertation.So, really, no reason the two should ever interact. Except...the walls between their apartments are just so thin. And even though he swears he's seeing the guy all over campus, there's no way the exceptionally friendly Professor Novak has a thing for Dean. Right?

The Pumpkin Pie Started It by twerkstiel E | 8k | Hot, AU, Baker Cas, ABO, Omega!Dean Sub!Dean, top!cas, alpha!cas

Dean Winchester is your ordinary college student. He does his work, fixes cars, complains about being broke. Except when he visits the new campus bakery, he ends up getting more than the pie he asked for.

Just what I like in an ABO short fic: cute, porny, and hot sex ;)

Leave My Body, Moving Up to Higher Ground by triedunture E | 17k

Wonderful and heartbreakingly lovely. Gender swap, of a sort.

Scratchmarks by bookkbaby E | 11k | Hot, canon!verse, endverse, threesome, bottom!cas, kink

Sometimes, sex isn't a goal, but a method. A method to escape, a method to forget, or a method to communicate, and Dean doubts that his future self is listening to what Cas is saying.

Porny 2009!Dean/2014!Dean/2014!Cas with bonus feelings towards the end.

Halfway by anythingtoasted E | 29k | canon!verse, s8, pining!dean

A Fallen!Castiel bunker fic; Castiel arrives back at the bunker after six months of being missing, with eighteen of his newly-fallen brothers and sisters in tow; shameless schmoop and angel-care ensues.

Bunker!Fic. Castiel has a flock of brothers and sisters to care for. Always a fan of the way anythingtoasted writes the dean/cas relationship development.

Home is Where by chasingrabbits E | 15k | AU, Mental Disorders

Casual vagrant Dean Winchester blows into Palo Alto to check on his little brother. What is meant to be a quick visit ends up drawing out when he meets and accidentally ends up clicking with Sam's strange, grad student roommate Castiel.

The Graveyard by amarillogrande E | 18k | College AU, bottom!dean, tattooed!cas

The premise is simple. You finish the bottle, you stick it up on the shelf. When you move out, you can look up and remember all the good times you had. Right?

Smooth Operator!Verse by wannaliveindeansdimples E | 15k | Fluff, Hot, AU, Long Distance Relationship, Phone Sex

Castiel is a phone sex operator and Dean is a first time caller.

Messenger Number 3 by gamesformay M | 23k | Theatre AU, Fluff

Opening night is closing in at the Lawrence Shakespeare Festival, and the play is cursed. As if that weren't enough for Dean, the head of the tech crew, to have on his mind. A tale of love, family, and iambic pentameter.

Dark Side of the Moon by imogenbynight E | 37k | Angst, Astronaut AU, PTSD, Minor Character Death

Five months into his six month mission, an accident leaves Flight Engineer Dean Winchester stranded on the moon. It comes down to a man he has never met to bring him home.

Give All My Secrets Away by morganoconner T | 2k | Fluff, H/C, Canon!verse

When Castiel needs to stay with Dean while the hunter is vulnerable and unable to defend himself, he doesn't expect it to end with confessions Dean doesn't mean to give.

Convenient Husbands by Scaramouche E | 39k | AU, creature!cas, wing!kink

"It's only temporary, right?" Dean says. "Just until you're healed up, and then we'll never have to see each other again. So what do you say, Castiel, do you want to marry me or not?

Every Word a Piece of My Heart by smilla840 E | 10k | Dean/Jimmy/Cas

The war is over and Jimmy is finally free to go back to his family. Everything should be perfect – then why isn’t it?

The Parts of Our Sum by scaramouche E | 55k | AU, Friendship

Castiel, a former soldier, has worked for the Company his entire life. They've been good to him, providing clothes, shelter and new body parts whenever necessary. Now the Company's gearing up for a space exploration voyage, and Castiel's volunteered for the research team. During the preparation period, he meets Dean Winchester, who makes Castiel wonder about the things he's missed out on.

What Has Eight Tentacles and Isn't Allowed to Eat Pie? by Scaramouche T | 16k | Fluff, Canon!verse, tentacles

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting. Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.

Shorten the Distance by APenToMyHeadandImDead T | 43k | Fluff, AU, Teacher!Cas

"Nerdytr3nchcoat" and "Impala67" weren't looking for romance on the dating website called 'dateangels.com'. Castiel was looking for friends and Dean was just looking to get his nagging brother off his back. What they didn't expect to find was each other. [a long distance, online relationship fic]

Jump the Track by alysian_fields E | 83k | High school AU

It's Dean's senior year at Lawrence High, and he's already given up on himself. It takes the arrival of the strange, intense, awkward Castiel Delacroix at the school to prove to Dean that maybe his life is worth saving after all.

Blackbird Fly ❤ by artsyunderstudy E | 163k | Angst, High school AU, Sam/Jess, Drug Use, Mental Health Issues

In the wake of a mutual tragedy, the Winchester brothers befriend loner Castiel. Both brothers find something in him to hold onto as they try to remake their own complicated relationship and the home they've lost. Struggling with his own recovery, Sam finds himself drawn to the strong and lively Jess, while Castiel and Dean find comfort in one another. As consequences of their past emerge and threaten to tear apart what they've carefully rebuilt, they are all forced to reevaluate who their family really is, and what it's worth to keep it.

Oh the angst! This fic may be triggering for some, but the pros include a wonderfully portrayed sam/jess relationship, and stunning illustrations. Dean and Cas' relationship is heartbreakingly lovely and broken (but there is a happy ending).

A Broken Man & The Dawn by n_nami E | 44k | Fluff, COCKLES, AU,

After his brother dies in a car accident, Jensen is left to take care of his newborn nephew - and he’s in over his head. Also, he has the feeling that the guy who just moved into the apartment next door hates him because of the crying baby that keeps him up all night. As it turns out, Misha not only has that set of mesmerizing blue eyes, but also a lot of intuition when it comes to fussing, cranky babies.

Jeté by cadniganv E | 10k | AU, dancer!dean, photographer!cas

Castiel has been photographing their ballet company for two years now and he and Dean have barely exchanged six words, and yet somehow when Dean breaks his leg, it's Castiel who takes him home from the hospital and takes care of him.

#destiel #deancas #spn #spn fic rec #destiel fic rec #*#list

5 notes · View notes

ourloveisforthelovely · 5 years

Text

To the Ends of the Earth 4

Supernatural

A/n; AU Story that doesn’t go by the show. Out of character Gabriel

Link to Chapter 3

Words: 1,871

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

_______

The next morning at breakfast you were silent as the grave. Dean was on his fourth waffle. Everyone else was eating in relative silence. You had woken up in a mood from hell! Maybe it was because you were still thinking about what Gabriel said. Were you really a silly girl for wanting to know the truth about soul mates? You didn’t think so. Apparently, Cas didn’t think so either! If he did, why would he have even bothered bringing the subject up? He could have easily thrown something in about you seeing things...but he didn’t.

You had been picking at the waffle that Dean put in front of you.

“You should eat.”

Gabriel said softly. You didn’t look up to meet your lover’s gaze. If you had looked at him then you would have seen the apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m not hungry.”

You muttered. Gabriel sighed. This was all going to hell! He knew that he needed to talk to you quickly but didn’t feel like doing this in front of an audience. The last thing that he really wanted to do was to tell you that you were his soul mate in front of Dean fucking Winchester! The stupid human-ape would never understand how sacred something like soul mates really was. He would never respect just how much Gabriel loved you...it would never be good enough!

“You really should eat, sugar. You didn’t eat dinner.”

Gabriel continued to mutter. You still didn’t look up. Sam and Dean were watching like a couple of lions now. You didn’t have to look at your brothers to know what expressions were on their faces. If you had asked them to get rid of Gabriel, the archangel would probably be tossed out the door before he could react.

“What did you do to her?”

Dean snapped. He was ready to lunge across the table after Gabriel. Sure, it would be a stupid decision once Gabriel reacted but at the moment it would feel good for Dean.

“Have you been crying?”

Sam questioned. You finally looked up meeting their gazes before speaking.

“Just stay out of it and eat your waffles.”

Dean glanced over at Sam. They were internally trying to figure out just how to make Gabriel miserable.

“Oh hell to the fuck no! I am not staying out of shit when I see that your eyes are puffy. Gabriel, what the hell did you do to her?”

Gabriel gave Dean the best insolent expression that he could come up with. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“None of your business.”

You growled before standing up and storming out of the room. The last thing that you wanted to deal with at the moment was Gabriel and your brothers arguing with each other. All three could be assholes. You didn’t want to see which one could be the biggest asshole.

Gabriel meanwhile, waited until you were gone before turning to face Dean. The eldest Winchester was frowning.

“You better start talking. Y/n is one of the nicest people ever. For someone to piss her off...boy you must have really done something stupid.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

Cas decided that maybe it was time for him to speak up. It was clear that Gabriel wasn’t going to contribute anything other than cold distant glares.

“Gabriel, tell them the truth. Y/n is their sister. They deserve to know.”

“Deserve to know what?”

Dean snapped. He was beginning to have enough! Since you had Gabriel, you turned into a person that Dean didn’t know. You would have never run off before! Never in a million yes! You would have been just happy sitting in the bunker doing research for cases.

Gabriel sighed.

“You want to know the truth? Fine. Y/n saw my wings. Does your small human brain know what that means?”

Dean looked thoughtful as Sam’s mouth dropped.

“You mean...you are…”

Gabriel smirked.

“You are the smart one. “

Dean turned to Sam.

“What the hell am I missing?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, having enough. His golden eyes narrowed on Dean with an expression of pure disdain.

“She is my soulmate, you stupid ass!”

Dean was silent as the grave for about 40 seconds before going after the archangel. Whether it be Dean doing something so stupid or Gabriel actually feeling bad that Dean had to find out this way...Gabriel didn’t move. When Dean successfully punched the archangel in the cheek and started cursing did Gabriel speak.

“Do you feel better now? You have gone and broken your hand because you wanted to act like a damn caveman. Congratulations. By the way, I didn’t feel anything. Who is the loser here? You.”

Dean shook his hand furiously.

“If it were your sister being cursed by some psycho I think that you would be pissed too.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow before getting annoyed with Dean’s hands shaking. He snapped his fingers healing the eldest Winchester’s hand. If it were up to Gabriel, he would have left it broken.

“I am not a psycho. Furthermore, I had nothing to do with this. My father selected Y/n for me. Whenever you find him, thank him. If it weren’t for me, Y/n would have been seriously hurt on multiple occasions. I haven’t spent every year of her life watching her for shits and giggles.”

Dean gave Gabriel a disgusted frown.

“You’ve been watching her since day one? That’s kind of creepy. Now I am thinking that you are some kind of stalker.”

“Dean…”

Sam finally came in. Dean quickly rounded on his younger brother.

“Does it not freak you out that sparkles over here has been watching our sister?”

Sam held his hands out before sighing.

“Dean, that doesn’t matter. We can’t stop them from being together. Now that she has seen his wings....its...official. It's going to find a way. Life finds a way...it doesn’t matter if we like it or not.”

Dean scowled.

“When did you become some kind of weird minister? Better yet, stop quoting fucking Jurassic Park, you Jeff Goldbum want to be!”

Sam didn’t bother trying to talk to Dean at this point. His older brother was being irrational. Irrational Dean was about as enjoyable and drunk Dean! Sam turned and walked out of the room without another word. He didn’t want to be a part of this conversation anymore.

Meanwhile,

You walked into the hotel room. Jack stood in the kitchenette looking at a box of Nesquik powder.

“Uh hi.”

You said softly. Going into the room you wanted nothing more than to be alone for a bit. After watching Jack looking at the bottle of chocolate milk mix, you shrugged.

“You need some help?”

Jack looked up again.

“Dean said that this stuff was delicious. I don’t understand. I ate a spoonful and vomited. It was too gritty.”

You put a hand over your mouth as the realization that the kid was more innocent than you realized washed over.

“Oh honey, you don’t eat it out of the jar. You put it in milk.”

Jack blinked a few times before chuckling.

“Oh, I see.”

He snapped a glass of milk onto the table in front of him. Jack handed you a clean spoon with a small smile.

Oh hell, I am going to adore this kid.

You thought. Were Sam and Dean sure that Jack was Lucifer’s son? Were they 100% sure? What if he was some other angel’s kid and Lucifer just decided to say it was him?

“Yeah, he’s, unfortunately, my father.”

You gaped up at the boy.

“Jack...I’m sorry...I just…”

Jack smiled,

“Its okay! I am trying to figure that one out too! I think we could be fast friends! So you’re dating my uncle?”

You sighed.

“Yeah...I guess. I am apparently just some silly little girl.”

Jack sat down.

“Is this over the whole you seeing his wings thing?”

Your mouth dropped.

“How did you find that out?”

Jack shrugged.

“I kind of read Gabriel’s mind. He’s freaking out.”

Your face looked even more surprised. Surprised was putting it lightly. Now you felt even worse! Gabriel knew that you saw his wings and he called you a silly little girl?! This was awful!

“Excuse me, Jack. I have an archangel to kick in the ass!”

You stormed out of the room before Jack could say anything. He shrugged and went back to his chocolate milk.

“Me and my big mouth.”

5 minutes later you stormed into the hotel bar where Dean sat across from Gabriel. The two of them weren’t speaking instead they sat glaring at each.

“Sugar…”

Gabriel started as you walked over pointing your finger at him.

“I know that you don’t understand a lot of things that humans do and maybe I don’t understand a lot of things that archangels do ...but...I am really really mad at you! You lied to me and called me a silly girl, which is really offensive to me. You don’t think that I know what it means for me to see your wings? Well, you are soooooo wrong! Everyone here knows it. Jack for god’s sake knows it! Do you think that I am dumber than some child?! I am a hunter and I know angels...I know more than you think! Break this stupid bond since I am some silly little girl! I’ll show you silly little girl!”

Gabriel sat motionless looking at you with wide petrified eyes. He had never seen you this angry. In all of the years that he had been quietly guardian you, you were always the calm one in the room. Sure, you could get sassy and Gabriel often worried that would get you into trouble but you weren’t like Dean.

Trembling in rage, you turned and started for the door of the bar but stopped the moment that Michael walked in.

“Oh crap.”

You muttered as Gabriel was by your side in an instant. Michael’s attention turned to his brother.

“Gabriel, there you are. Oh my, you are in trouble.”

Gabriel’s hand was locked around yours. His eyes didn’t leave his brother’s face as he stepped closer to you.

“I’m sending you somewhere safe. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

Before you had a chance to argue with Gabriel’s plan, you found yourself sitting in the living room at the bunker. Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack (who was still drinking a glass of Nesquik) stood looking as equally as confused. You jumped up from the couch before turning to Cas.

“I need you to get me back to Gabriel!”

Cas frowned.

“He has you locked here. I can’t do anything until he returns.”

“Then go back and drag him home!”

Cas sighed.

“Y/n, it isn’t that simple. I can’t drag an archangel anywhere.”

You ran a hand over your face before turning to go into the library to find a way to get back to Gabriel.

“Son of a bitch!”

______

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@supernaturalways

@emiwrites3reads

@knight-of-gleefulness

@shaylybaby2032

@fand0maniac

@marichromatic

@wontlookaway

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@sprnaturallover

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@shitfaceddaniel

@mycuddlycorner

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@deanwherescas

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@authoressskr

@summer-novak

#supernatural #Gabriel #Dean Winchester #Supernatural Fan Fiction #Sam Winchester #Cas #Jack Kline #Michael #Gabriel x reader #gabriel fanfiction #au supernatural #AU Supernatural fanfics #supernatural reader insert #to the ends of the earth #To the ends of the earth fic

23 notes · View notes