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  • deangirldream
    22.06.2021 - 2 days ago

    A Shard Of Broken Things PART III MASTERLIST (finale)

    Description: If living a life with a perilous job was not hard enough, envision having an unexpected child to come along with it. Tough matters begin to grow, hunters and now parents, Dean and Y/N learn that their child’s life is valuable, and soon realize they must sacrifice and struggle to great measures in order to protect their family.

    Genre: action, horror, drama, sci-fi, dark, romance, thriller

    ⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️Various chapters may contain: mild to strong language, slow burn, angst, graphic violence, gun violence, domestic violence, abuse, smut, death, murder, mentions of murder, self-deprecation, alcoholism, pedophilia, harassment, and witchcraft.

    A/N: I made a Spotify playlist for this series consisting of the songs that are included for some of these chapters! Also special thanks to anyone and everyone that has been reading and keeping up with the story, I’m grateful <3


    PART III : Side A 


    Chapter 101: In A World Gone Crazy

    Chapter 102:

    Chapter 103:

    Chapter 104:

    Chapter 105:


    Chapter 107:

    Chapter 108:

    Chapter 109:

    Chapter 110:

    Chapter 111:

    Chapter 112:

    Chapter 113:

    Chapter 114:

    Chapter 115:

    Chapter 116:

    Chapter 117:

    Chapter 118:

    Chapter 119:

    Chapter 120:

    Chapter 121:

    Chapter 122:

    Chapter 123:

    Chapter 124:

    Chapter 125:

    PART III : Side B 


    Chapter 126:

    Chapter 127:

    Chapter 128:

    Chapter 129:

    Chapter 130:

    Chapter 131: 

    Chapter 132:

    Chapter 133:

    Chapter 134:

    Chapter 135:

    Chapter 136:

    Chapter 137:

    Chapter 138:

    Chapter 139:

    Chapter 140:

    Chapter 141:

    Chapter 142:

    Chapter 143:

    Chapter 144:

    Chapter 145:

    Chapter 146:

    Chapter 147:

    Chapter 148:

    Chapter 149:

    Chapter 150:


    Part One Masterlist

    Part Two Masterlist

    #dean winchester#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction series #supernatural series#supernatural fluff#supernatural smut #dean winchester fluff #sam winchester fluff #supenatural smut#deanxreader#deanxdaughter #deanxpregnant!reader #destiel #sam and jack #castiel and jack #jack winchester#jack kline#supernatural jack#jackxreader#samxreader#castielxreader #sam winchester one shot #dean winchester one shots #supernatural memes#destiel memes #supernatural finale memes #scoobynatural#mystery gang
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  • tlakhtwritesdestiel
    21.06.2021 - 2 days ago
    Finally got around to finishing a ficlet that's been sitting in my google docs!
    Thanks to @perlukafarinn for the prompt: "I just had this idea of Cas wanting to adopt a kitten and instead coming home with the grumpiest, least friendly cat and being like 'he just needs some love!' while he's just at that moment sharpening his claws on the Impala's seats. Just Dean vs the grumpiest cat who he eventually learns to love bc ofc"

    Dean should have known better than to simply accept it as a romantic gesture. The fact that it’s so over-the-top, so perfectly tailored to Dean’s tastes, should have tipped him off right from the start. The homemade burgers, the craft beer he enjoys, the dozen or so candles, the Dirty Dancing DVD ready to play, the fragrant apple pie sitting on the windowsill—and then the other, other dessert (i.e. the reason Dean will from now on, forever and always, associate the line "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" with a particularly mind-blowing orgasm)—

    Yeah. He should have known.

    Because if there are three things Dean's husband knows will make him blissed-out enough to say yes to pretty much anything he asks, it's good food, good alcohol and good sex. Add a sprinkle of Swayze on top, and Dean’s a goner.

    It’s not until the movie is over and they’re enjoying a snuggle on the couch that Cas finally says the thing that makes Dean suspicious.

    "Dean?" Cas’s voice is just a little too innocent. "You asked me what I wanted for my birthday."

    Dean would kick himself for falling for Cas’s clever ruse, except… he’s feeling too blissed-out. It’s too late to resist now; whatever it is Cas has been plying him for, he just knows he’s going to give in. "Mmm," he hums back. "Why do I know I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?"

    Cas gives him the wounded look he has adopted as the final weapon in his arsenal against Dean. “You did ask me what I wanted,” he says, disappointment in his voice that is 100% calculated, for the precise reason that it never fails to tug at Dean’s heartstrings even when he knows what Cas is trying to do.

    “Yeah, yeah.” Dean sighs and cards a hand through his (sneaky, sneaky) husband’s already ruffled hair. “What is it you want, sweetheart?"

    “Well…” Cas's hesitation doesn't bode well for Dean. "You remember how we talked about adopting a cat?"

    Oh, no.

    "You mean you talked about adopting a cat."

    “If you want to get technical about it,” Cas huffs. “But Dean, you don’t even have to do anything. I will take care of feeding it and cleaning the litter box, and any vet visits. Other than that, cats mostly take care of themselves. And I…” Cas sighs. “I just miss it, having a cat around. If Miss Beatrice hadn’t passed away before I moved in with you, we would have had a cat right now.”

    Dean takes one look at the longing on Cas’s face and feels himself beginning to give in, like he knew he would. He’s never understood the idea of letting random carnivores live in your house (especially since he knows cats can be total assholes), but… as long as it will make his husband happy, he supposes it’s worth it. “Fine. On one condition.”

    Cas probably thought he was going to have to work a lot harder for it. “Of course. Anything,” he agrees quickly.

    And because Dean’s not planning on dealing with an asshole adult cat that has belonged to God knows who—

    “It has to be a kitten.”


    It’s not a kitten.

    Of course, Dean can’t be 100% sure about that yet, but the way Cas leaps out of the Impala like his ass is on fire, hand held up in the air long before it touches Dean’s chest in order to keep him from looking through Baby’s windows, kinda gives him a clue.

    "Dean, don't—"

    "Cas, let me see."

    "No, Dean, I need to tell you—it's… it's not the one I said I wanted to get when we looked at the website. It's—well, it's—"

    It’s a giant, gray monster of a cat, apparently, because that’s the sight that meets Dean the moment he pushes past Cas: the kind of cat that, if it were in an animated movie, would be the huge, hulking, terrifying alleycat (scar across its nose and everything) that all the other animals are afraid of. The cat seems to be in the middle of performing some kind of jailbreak, somehow making its way out of the carrier that Cas bought second-hand, and once it’s out it stretches its back, and it—it fucking starts sharpening its claws on Baby’s upholstery.

    “Cas!” Dean shouts, thunder in his voice as he gestures to the atrocity that is going on inside his car. Cas looks suitably panicked as he hurries to open the door and grab the monster by the scruff of its neck so he can get it back inside the carrier. Dean doesn’t miss the vicious hiss or the swipe of claws that leaves three bright red stripes on the back of Cas’s hand before he manages to close the carrier again.

    Cas straightens again, but his head remains bowed with guilt as he turns back to Dean.

    “What the hell?” Dean demands. “That’s not a kitten, Cas, it’s a frickin’ bobcat!” he says, and the angry yowl coming from the carrier just seems to confirm it.

    “He’s not a bobcat, he’s… a Maine Coon,” Cas says, shame-faced. “He wasn’t going to be adopted by anyone else, Dean. He would have been euthanized.”

    “Yeah, well, not our problem. It’s not your job to save every animal out there.”

    “No,” Cas says, his voice firm despite the guilt on his face. “Not every animal. But I can save him. The kittens in the shelter, Dean? They’re not in any danger of getting killed. They’re guaranteed to be adopted.”

    Dean drags a hand down his face, trying to erase the image of brand new puncture marks in Baby’s leather from his mind. He knows Cas is selfless and loves every living creature, and if he’s completely honest with himself, it’s one of the things he loves about him. It’s just… really inconvenient that it has led to Cas adopting a creature from Hell. “Is he going to be like that all the time?”

    A tentative smile pulls at one edge of Cas’s mouth; he must sense that Dean is on the verge of surrendering. "He’s just scared right now. Adopted cats often need to become accustomed to their new environment. He just needs a little time and some love.”

    “Right.” Dean doesn’t know if he’s ready to believe a word of what Cas is saying, but he can’t tell Cas to take the cat back to the shelter. It would crush him. “Well, are you going to bring the beast in, or what?”

    Cas breaks into a wide smile, and Dean just hopes he’s not going to regret this.


    “I think I’m going to call him Old Deuteronomy,” Cas says while they’re doing the dishes together.

    “Really, Cas. An Andrew Lloyd Webber reference? Stereotype much?” Dean teases.

    Cas simply raises an eyebrow at him. "Since when do you care about me fitting into gay stereotypes?”

    “I don’t.” Dean smiles and tugs on Cas's apron until he's rewarded with a kiss. “If you hadn’t noticed, I very much love your gay ass. Frills and all.”

    “Not as much as I love your bi ass.” A playful grin appears on Cas’s face, and he reaches around Dean with both hands to dip them into the back of his jeans. "Frills and all," he says as he lets his fingers slip inside the lace of Dean's panties.

    “Mm," Dean murmurs into another kiss. "I stand corrected." Cas does love his ass and Dean loves it when Cas loves his ass and really, the dishes don't have to be done right this moment, do they? "Hey, what do you say we leave this for later and—"

    Dean is interrupted by a loud crash and an unholy screech coming from the laundry room. Clearly, Cas isn't as good at cat-proofing as he thinks he is.

    Dean's hope of continuing what they started dies when Cas runs to the rescue and the cat bolts out the door as soon as Cas opens it. Their house isn't huge, but it still takes them three hours to find the damn animal, and trying to wrangle it back into the laundry room ends with Dean sporting more scratches than he cares to count.

    "I'm sorry," Cas says softly while he cleans Dean's scratches.

    "It's fine." It's really not, but Dean is trying not to take his annoyance out on Cas—although knowing that he's the one who brought the violent little asshole into their house makes it kinda difficult. Still, he's going to try to be more patient and give the cat time to settle in. For his husband’s sake. He may not love the cat, but he does love Cas.


    Even with the mindset that he's going to give the cat a chance, Dean can admit to himself that deep down, he doesn't actually expect or even want to like the vicious little lynx. Maybe that's self-contradictory, but Dean can be of two minds at the same time; he contains multitudes, as he’s sure Walt Whitman would say (if Whitman were alive and inclined to comment on Dean’s relationship with the demon cat).

    It turns out, however, that the cat also contains multitudes. Because one moment, Dean will be shouting and cursing in pain after his feet have strayed too close to the beast lying in wait underneath the stairs—and the next, the cat will creep up to Dean while he's working from home, claim the spot next to Dean's computer, fall asleep there and… generally look pretty cute for a giant, gray mop of fur. Until Dean moves around too much and earns an annoyed hiss and a swipe, of course, but he's slowly learning to avoid the claws coming at him.

    In fact, despite the cat’s cantankerous disposition, Dean grudgingly begins to appreciate it more as they settle into a routine. The furniture scratching is something he probably shouldn't endorse, but when it's Cas's ratty old recliner from his college days that keeps taking the brunt, well… Let's just say Cas is going to have to agree to replace it soon if he doesn't want a rusty spring poking him in the ass.

    And yeah, maybe Deut does steal Dean's Scooby boxers and hide them God knows where, but Dean can't stay mad when it leads to Cas buying him several pairs of new (sexier) underwear and they end up making up for Deut's earlier cockblocking.

    The icing on the cat cake, however, comes when Cas’s brother drops by.

    “Dean,” Michael says when Dean opens the door, with the same disdain in his voice as always. “Is Cas here?”

    Dean doesn’t know why the guy even bothers asking; he works at the same hospital as Cas, after all, and they both know he knows Cas’s schedule. As usual, he’s just here to try to catch Dean doing… whatever he thinks he could possibly catch Dean doing that would prove to Cas that he’s not worthy of being a part of their family. “No, he’s—”

    Michael pushes his way past Dean without waiting to hear the rest of the sentence. “That’s too bad. You don’t mind if I come in and wait for him, do you? His shift should be over soon.”

    Dean wonders if Michael can even hear himself revealing that he knows Cas is at work. In any case, Dean is done playing nice and indulging Michael’s intrusive whims. “Actually, I do mind. I’m in the middle of—”

    Dean stops talking when he hears the telltale sound of paws dashing across the hallway floor. It may not be loud, but he has become particularly attuned to the sound over the past few weeks, and he braces himself for the involuntary foot acupuncture that... never comes. Instead, a giant gray ball of fur whizzes past him, and then—for once—it's Michael and his fancy suit that get the honor of finding out what it feels like to be a pincushion, and no more than half a minute later, Michael is out the door with a bleeding ankle after having shouted abuse at both Dean and the cat.

    Being such an excellent guard cat deserves a reward, Dean figures, and almost as soon as Michael's car is out of the driveway, he grabs his own car keys and heads to the pet store. And once he gets back… it's time to be sneaky. It's too soon to admit to Cas that he’s actually taking a liking to the cat, so the Cat-Sip Milk goes behind the El Sol beer Cas hates while the new toys, cat treats and the calming pheromone spray go inside the cabinet where Dean keeps his work-related books and documents.

    Of course, the secrecy is only for when Cas is home, so between Dean watching Jackson Galaxy videos on cat behavior and taking the time to play with Deuteronomy, blinking slowly at him to communicate friendliness, and using treats to bond with him, it's no wonder it's only a matter of weeks before Cas returns home from work to find the two of them sleeping together on the couch, Deut curled up on Dean's chest.

    Dean wakes up to Cas shaking his shoulder and cautiously whispering "Dean?" as if expecting him to freak out at finding the napping feline on top of him.

    "Mmm." Dean's much too tired and too comfortable to lament the fact that the cat is out of the bag—so to speak—and he cards his fingers through Deut's fur, soft and tangle-free after Dean brushed it earlier. "Welcome home, sunshine. How was work?"

    Cas simply regards Dean as if he's lost all his marbles simultaneously and isn't even bothering to look for them. "Dean." Cas gestures helplessly toward the cat-on-chest situation Dean has going on. "What? How?"

    The next best thing to pretending he hasn't made friends with the cat is pretending there was never any animosity between them, which is what Dean chooses to do. "I don't know what you mean, Cas. You'll have to be more specific."

    Cas hitches a suspicious eyebrow. "Dean, you detest Old Deuteronomy."

    Dean hurries to cover Deut's ears with his hands—or pretend to, anyway, since he doesn't want to wake up the still occasionally grumpy cat. "Sshhh. What a filthy lie to say right in front of him.”

    “Dean.” Cas narrows his eyes at his husband and looks ready to question him, but upon opening his mouth to speak he seems to realize that trying to get a straight answer out of Dean is going to be an exercise in futility, and gives up with a sigh. “I take it I won’t have to appease you with caresses and lovemaking anymore?” he asks instead, as if he considers it a chore and as if they ever manage to keep their hands off each other anyway.

    Dean hums. “I’m sure I can think of something else to be annoyed about. Now get in here.” He scooches—as much as he can with the cat on top of him—toward the back of the couch, leaving enough space on the edge for Cas to lie down on his side, half-draped over Dean. Cas does so, carefully, looking slightly worried when the arm he curls around Dean’s waist nudges Deut, but Deut just blinks a couple of times and only looks the slightest bit disgruntled before falling straight back to sleep.

    “I love you,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s shoulder. “Even though you’re a ridiculous man who doesn’t know his own capacity for love.” Something about the way he says it leaves Dean with the distinct feeling that he’s been played.

    “Dude. You knew I’d…?”

    “That you would come to care for Old Deuteronomy, given enough time with him?” Dean can hear the smile in Cas’s voice. “Yes. It’s a nice bonus that the reverse turned out to be true as well.”

    Dean sighs, but he can’t feel too put-upon—not with Deut on his chest and Cas curled around him. “Come on, let’s get a catnap in before we get started on dinner,” he says. And then, once they’ve both closed their eyes to do just that, “I love you too, by the way, even though you’re a sneaky man who preys on his husband’s weaknesses.”

    “Strengths,” Cas corrects.

    At that moment, Deut decides he’s had enough of Dean petting him, and Dean receives a nip to his hand for it as the cat dashes off to God knows where. Dean's little yelp has Cas checking for his reaction, likely worried that the bite may have drawn Dean’s ire again, but Dean simply tugs his husband more firmly on top of him and places a kiss against Cas's temple. “It’s okay.” He smiles. “He just needs a little time and some love.”

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  • slytherinpurebloodwitch
    17.06.2021 - 1 week ago

    I need someone to slap me and tell me that I can’t fall in love with a random person in the comments of a wattpad fanfic

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  • maleyah-givemetomorrow
    15.06.2021 - 1 week ago

    Raggarbil (A Destiel fic timestamp)

    Rating: Mature

    Tags: A/B/O, establish Destiel, Alpha!Cas, Omega!Dean, flirting, dancing, making out, semi-public

    Wordcount: 2.689

    Series: the Disrepair 'Verse

    Dean listens to the same five albums over and over. Everyone knows that. Dean knows it. Eternal shotgun, Sam knows it. By now, Lee knows too and he loves it. Man’s got taste. Cas knows perfectly well. That doesn’t stop him from sharing whiplash-worthy playlists and Dean can’t refuse. He’ll do anything to see Cas’ eyes light up like the stars above.

    So, dutifully, he listens. Endures the distorted heavy bass, the obligatory dance-pop hits (admittedly, Taylor Swift was an eye-opener), stuff that starts out as swing and switches gear into electro-samples, German stuff, punk-folk stuff (he guesses, it has bagpipes and flutes and sounds like everyone’s angry and on speed) and oddly conflicting stuff that wouldn’t sound out of place on a beach in the Caribbean. There’s more, which he doesn’t have the vocabulary for. Cas is more forgiving, but easy for him, because let’s be clear, between the two of them, Dean has the better taste in music. Smooth, classic, streamlined, like Baby.

    But… Here’s the thing. Bear with him.

    The twins are a year and a half old. As a family, they’re doing good, real good. Kids are healthy after that initial, granted, horrific scare. A story best left for another time. Grace babbles non-stop, nonsensical and semi-understandable sounds, just non-stop. Whether she is hanging in her wrap against Cas’ chest or splashing around in the tub or barely holding herself upright on Dean’s finger, she babbles. Halen is running at a speed that still launches Dean’s heart in his throat, whenever pointy ends of chairs or tables or cabinets are near. Cas proves to be an excellent herder of toddlers. (“Don’t these kids have brakes?!” - “I’ve got him, little one.” ) The kids are now the ‘littlest ones’. Or nuggets. Or bees. Speaking of, their bees are flourishing, much like the flowers they planted. They’re also getting the kids used to water, swimming in Bal’s pool.

    Dean’s painful heats have become a thing of the past. Though he obviously doesn’t miss them, memories of how Cas cared for him at his worst always elicit a gooey feeling. It’s definitely a lot more fun now, with Dean capable of rendering Cas speechless with a look or a stupid, dirty joke and simply catching him by surprise when he plants a quick kiss to Cas’ shoulder or cheek. The ability to surrender to his own wants and meet Cas for his is a gift he won’t soon take for granted.

    Claire and Kaia are in their final year, making plans to go in digs together, much to the horror of nigh anyone who knows what a bad idea that is. Donna and Jody are preparing for the worst. Everyone else has a bucket of popcorn at hand. Kinda. They’re also ready to provide whatever help needed, be that light night snacks to get through midterms or help to navigate college waters, when the staff assumes students just know what to do, simply because they hit the age of majority.

    Sam is acing college and looking to become a TA next year. Him and Gabe are obviously smitten with each other. When Sam isn’t dropping by the sweets shop ‘to see Dean’, Gabe is seeing the inside of a college library from all kinds of angles and picking up a few books along the way.

    Lee is still working at Brush, but Nick switched careers to law enforcement. Both became part of their extended family. Same goes for Charlie and Kevin. She has taken a shine to Lucifer and vice versa, which is an odd, borderline lethal combination when they’re both running on high energy.

    Among this chaos, Balthazar thrives happily, working in tandem with Jody and Cas, who has taken more of a backseat.

    So, here’s the thing. Kinda.

    They really needed to get out. Gabriel had a suggestion, which anyone with common sense would refuse, were it not for the man’s silver tongue. Ever since he brought up an innocuous ‘party’ and ‘some drinks’ and ‘paint the town red like responsible adults’, the itch was there. Just under his sensitive Omega skin. Not only for him and Cas. End of the school year for Sam. Start of Summer for Charlie and Kevin. Much to their dismay, Claire and Kaia got a definite ‘no’ from their moms, who divided and conquered by Donna staying home so Jody could join. So when Gabe got tickets, there was no question, really. Dean should have known better.

    Because somehow - and Sam didn’t even fucking warn him, the traitor - he landed himself at the kinda party he wouldn’t be caught dead at. He joined. Of course he did. A party means dancing and he probably should have known too, that with Cas’ past and both Gabriel and Balthazar and Charlie in the mix, it wouldn’t be a regular pub where people had to move the tables to makeshift a dance floor. No, he’s at a friggin’ club with bouncers and cocktails and way too many people for his asocial soul.

    But, okay, fine, here’s the real thing.

    He’s got his thighs wrapped around one of Cas’ in the middle of a crowded dance floor, a rapid bass thrumming through every muscle, and he’s pretty sure Cas is doing most of the lifting, both of them bouncing to the heavy beat. His arms are wrapped around Cas’ shoulders, a hand buried in dark, sweaty tresses. He doesn’t know exactly where Cas’ hands are, but there is skin involved and squeezing of all his best, soft parts. They’re not drunk, but oh, boy, does that not stop them. The vibe wouldn’t be out of place in their bedroom.

    Turns out Dean’s got some pent-up energy, Cas still has a loose cannon in him and dancing is fun. Under the current circumstances, at least. Who could argue? His insides are molten gold, elation humming through his veins. The world is loosening up around him, the day-to-day, beautiful as it is, a matter for future, hungover Dean. Right now, all that matters is how he and Cas move together. The visual world, its lights, its writhing mass of people, is dampened, Dean’s focus solely on his mate. His hot, very charming, very, very smooth and very, very, very talented mate.

    He’s panting into Cas’ mouth, sweat dripping down his spine to Cas’ hand splayed on his lower back. Cas dances as if he has half a mind to tear his clothes off (only two layers, come on now, he’s practically naked). His inner exhibionist isn’t opposed to being more naked and he whines through a smile, before Cas kisses him. Muscles flex under his hands, chests pressed together tightly, and Dean is soaking up every sweaty, gorgeous second of it.

    The music is loud enough to drown out any sound he makes, which is a good thing. Cas’ grin against his lips suggests he’s still picking up on those and Dean breaks away in time to see Cas’ eyes flashing inhuman red through the other light effects. His own pop with golden specks, when he senses the telltale slip and slide, and he grinds down on Cas hard enough to find friction. Cas laughs, a carefree and base sounds, as he squeezes Dean’s ass, which has him blushing through his own laughter.

    Yeah. ‘s what he gets.

    He smiles his teeth bare, tongue tip flicking over a canine, gifting more of his golden eyes and willing his scent through. A suggestion to take this party to Baby’s backseat sparks shiny in his mind, but he doesn’t get the chance to whisper it to Cas’ ear. From the corner of his eye, he catches movement that breaks the pattern of peers, caught in their own throws. Jody flings an arm around Cas, sending the pair of them off kilter. Cas releases him, marginally, so he’s back on his own two, wobbly legs. Nosing at Cas’ cheek, he licks some sweat off his neck, because he can’t resist, completely oblivious to whatever passes between Cas and Jody.

    Over Cas’ other shoulder, Bal materializes, all kinds of mischief sparkling in his eyes. Dean quirks an eyebrow, nose scrunching up over a distrustful smile. “What?” he mouths.

    Charlie’s scent subtly coasts up from behind, as she wraps her arms around, hooking her hands together over his chest. “C’me here, you wench!”

    Definite downside in a place like this. Everyone’s always yelling.

    He turns, an arm around her upper back. “You’re one to talk! I saw you with that girl!”

    “Luci started it! He was hitting on her sister.” She shrugs, an impish smile on her face, as she tries to coax Dean into a dance. “One thing led to another.”

    He smiles, when Charlie lets loose her quirky dancing style, and happily joins in. Dean still thinks he dances like a dork, despite some of the moves Cas taught him. To be fair, he and Charlie are the biggest dorks among their bunch. So it’s with no small amount of glee that they lose themselves to the joy of the frug, the hitch-hike, the shimmy and the swim, going completely off-beat.

    They scoot aside when someone passes by, booze raised high to keep it out of spilling danger. A song opens with a chorus of live applause that sounds like ‘Live is Life’ until it decidedly isn’t, and a pleasant reggae tune picks up. Turning around to the quick beat that carries it, Dean freezes, mouth going slack, when he spots three of their own putting up a show.

    Cas, Jody and Bal. Lined up side by side, dancing. They’re in beautiful sync, all confidence and swagger, shameless in how they play their quickly gathering audience. Each throwing their own style into it, they’re eliciting wolf whistles and whoops. Dean is quick to push himself between people, so he has a clear view of his mate, thank you very much. Charlie is right behind him, her warmth oozing through their clothes as she presses close, vibrating with excitement. “Ooh, they’re doin’ a thing!”

    A thing. Yeah. That’s about as eloquent as he feels. Dean is mesmerized by the hip and shoulder work, all tight angles and luscious suggestions. Cas’ muscles flex under the shirt that’s clinging to him like a second skin. Hair sticking to his neck and forehead, he’s all kinds of cute and delectable and happy. The lights cascade around the three of them, Jody in the middle, channeling enough sass to give Bal a run for his money as she throws it around like confetti. From his vantage point, Dean is torn between a few options. Drag Cas to Baby’s backseat, this display be damned. Rush forward and jump into Cas’ arms, ensuring everyone knows just whose he is. Third option is the one where he shuts down and gapes.

    Guess. Just guess.

    A hapless smile forms, giddy laughter swallowed by the beat, and his body going into that semi-conscious bounce. He wonders if the song is on repeat, because it seems to go on forever, all of them suspended in this energetic moment, static crackling, heat rising.

    Lightning hits when, through all the energies, the din, the frantic lights, the pounding music, their gazes meet and Cas gives him a dirty wink, eyes laced red for that split second. Dean laughs out loud, jutting his chin out so he bares his neck, relishing the response, when Cas’ eyes spark and stay that way, a match struck in the dark. He tracks the hypnotic way his mate moves. Hips, abdomen, feet, arms, hands and then… Playful, cocky as all hell, Cas snaps his fingers, a request that sends lightning down his spine.

    Having been painfully aware of all the ways his body failed and obsessed with how others would perceive it, Dean is hard-pressed to shut that awareness down, even more so in the wake of the delivery. He’s gotten better, but right here, far from his natural habitat with a slew of strangers as witnesses, it’s to Cas’ and - frankly - his own damn credit that he strides forward to grab Cas’ hand and takes the stage. He tunes everything else out, but only to ensure he sees Cas’ face. This is about the time to pull out some of the moves Cas taught him and he wants to savour every hot second of it.


    Usually it’s Cas telling him to ease up. Dean is greedy and impatient and a bunch of other stuff Cas is much too forgiving of. Right now, Cas has him lifted, held in place by Cas’ thighs, pinned to the wall. His hands are so far up Dean’s shirt, he might as well take it off. The Summer heat clings to them, their skin sweaty and warm.

    “Everything,” Cas says against his neck.

    He’s been sucking bruises there. Dean’s vision is blurred from the onslaught and his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. “Huh?”

    “Take everything off, baby…”

    Shit, he said that out loud? They’re gonna get themselves kicked on the curb.

    “Cas, honey, we…” He yelps when teeth join in at the same thumbs flick his nipples and his body does what it does best lately. It responds. He huffs out little sounds, back of his head colliding with the wall.

    Eyes squeezed shut, he wants to forget where they are. He isn’t exactly sure anyway. Club’s big.

    “Doe… Hhnnye… yeah, there,” he whines, “Does…”

    He moans, clutching onto Cas’ shoulders, at the feel of strength and flexing muscles and his scent demanding Dean give in.

    “Cas,” he laughs, giddy and helpless. “Move…”

    His vision is swamped by a pair of darkened red-laced eyes and Dean loses his point. He surges forward to kiss Cas. His mate grants his request to ‘move’ by rolling his hips, hands at Dean’s hip bones. He melts into the openmouthed kisses, their breaths moist, hand stuck in Cas’ wet hair. Maybe they can claim ‘so sweaty we were stuck to the wall’ as mitigating circumstances.

    Cas smirks against his lips, twisting Dean’s hair between his fingers so he bares his neck. “Fu… Fuck, honey, pl… car, pleaa… please!”

    “Shh,” Cas hushes, kissing him, licking him and suddenly he’s stuck on where else that tongue could be, “No one knows where we are…”

    Probably true.

    Party’s still going. Maybe they haven’t been here for what feels like time suspended forever. Maybe all he has to do is strip and let Cas eat him out and fuck him into the wall. Eyes going wide at the prospect and not finding himself opposed, Dean lets out a zany giggle and pushes at Cas’ face, successfully resisting for the first time since they got stuck in this no man’s land between the dancefloor and the damn bathroom. “Naughty Alpha.”

    “Uh-hmm, we’re on par. I can smell the suggestion on you, so…” He noses along Dean’s jawline, fumbling one hand free to tease at the front of Dean’s pants.

    “Cas…” He tries to go for chiding, he really does, but he wants. As much as Cas. Just perhaps not right here… The hand stills. Dean blinks through wet lashes, the sting of sweat in his eyes. “Mmmh, Cas?”

    Cas’ features are as sharp as every aspect of his scent, barring that one baseline they established a little over two years ago.

    “Yes or no, little one,” Cas says, “Whatever you wish.”

    Downside is he has to take full responsibility for the choice. Or credit. Depends where they end up. Railed Incorporated or the police precinct.

    He glances down the hall on either side of their little nook. Hardly stealthy, the curtain provides some cover. Not for the whole two-backed-beast shenanigans, but maybe…

    “Fingers,” he whispers, then blows a raspberried laugh, “Then Baby. Home. Probably backseat, I wanna feel you..”

    Cas flashes him that Alpha grin that turns his knees to mush. Dean braces himself against the wall to accommodate, legs wrapped around Cas. His breath hitches sweetly, Cas’ low snarl drowning out the music, his touch everything else. Dean moans through a laugh into their next kiss.

    Yeah, he should have known better. He also totally owes Gabe.

    Read the full series on AO3

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  • kingoftheratpeople
    11.06.2021 - 1 week ago


    okay so it’s a random destiel fic i read like a year or smth ago
    basically dean overhears his ex gf on the phone discussing her other ex who was like the best in bed. so dean basically hunts castiel down to prove he’s much better at sex then he is

    sorry for the shitty vague description, it’s all i can remember!!

    any help is appreciated

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  • destielwrite
    11.06.2021 - 1 week ago

    Imagine; Castiel figures out who Dean Winchester really is.

    Dean was a man of wisdom, a man of word, a man who kept loyal to his own father for so many years even after getting beat down by hurtful words. No matter how much he tried to forget it all, Dean was scarred for life, yet he remained with his father. That’s what Castiel first noticed. He was a true noble human, reeking with the stench of approval. Because that’s what Dean wanted, approval from his father.

    He wasn’t like his brother; Sam. He was much more different. Dean was quick, impulsive, irrational, but he held a strong heart and wanted to help those in need. He was also misunderstood, he was used, dragged by the hellhounds to Hell, he has been torn up and glued back up to be used all over again. Dean didn’t seemed phased, Castiel knew better. As an Angel, you can feel emotions of others ripple through you like a hurricane. Dean was haunted by himself, he hated himself. He wished he would have stayed dead in the depths of the burning fire.

    He thought he didn’t deserve to be saved. Luckily, for Castiel. Heaven needed him at the moment, and that’s the whole reason why he got to meet the Winchester in the first place. Why he started to doubt Heaven, why he rebelled against his family, why he went out fighting to save that one man’s life; Dean’s.

    While he went around with the boys. He started to dawn over the fact that he couldn’t just leave anymore. It wouldn’t be that simple. He couldn’t ignore Dean’s prayers, his wishes, his cries of anger at the sky. He couldn’t turn a cold shoulder to any of it because he knew Dean. He knew him more than he probably knew himself. He felt his soul in his angelic hands. It was scared, alone, hated, ruined, walked on, the soul shook when Castiel gripped it tight. It turned bright, embracing the grace the Angel flew through it.

    This is probably why Angels aren’t supposed to become close to humans, they lose themselves. They start to feel human again. They start to think that Heaven isn’t priority. That’s what Castiel thinks after all; Dean is his new home, his own personalized Heaven.

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  • jeonfairplay
    10.06.2021 - 1 week ago

    You See Right Thru Me

    Summary: After helping the Winchester brothers out with a case, a random man introduces himself as Castiel while staying the night in the motel beside your restaurant. You’ve never seen, heard, nor knew anything about him before hand, but he knew all about you. And boy, did he have some knowledge on all your sins and desires.

    Warning: Dirty talk, hair pulling, markings, unprotected sex (don’t worry, Castiel had his angel blade), wrap it before you tap it though gentleman!, blowjob, oral (female receiving), and fluff at the end.

    Author’s Note: Don’t like, don’t read. Keep scrolling

    “𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗬/𝗡, 𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘂𝘀 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗲"

    Sam smiled as you hit him playfully on the shoulder, smiling at the two idiots who 1. either had his face stuffed with pie (Dean) or 2. was kind enough to thank you for helping (Sam).

    “𝗡𝗼 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝗺𝗲, 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗻"

    You glared at the man who ate pie in the rear corner of your restaurant. He looked up at you two with puppy dog eyes, furrowing his eyebrows and saying “𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁?"

    You sighed and Sam gave you an apologetic look for his brothers behavior

    “𝗦𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗬/𝗡, 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀"


    Dean yelled, you two laughed and Sam put his hands in his pockets and stood there awkwardly. Staring at you with his signature puppy dog eyes, and you immediately knew he wanted to ask you for a favor

    “𝗔𝗹𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄?"

    “𝗗𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝗺𝗲, 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁? 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗲'𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴"

    You nodded

    “𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱, 𝗦𝗮𝗺. 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲!"

    He smiled once again and bid his goodbyes for tonight, grabbing Dean by his jacket and dragging me out of your closed restaurant. You sighed and began wiping down the tables for tonight, closing down until tomorrow at dawn.

    “𝗛𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼, 𝗬/𝗡"

    You gasped, jumping out of your skin as Castiel stood there in the darkest part of the dining room

    “𝗢𝗵 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗛𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗹, 𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗦𝗮𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗻?"

    You questioned the archangel who stood there near the window, the bright lights of stars shined onto his coat, and his hands tucked away in their pockets. He walked towards you slowly with a serious look plastered onto his face, you stepped back as his eyes made your knees tremble, and stomach churn


    He didn’t say a word, standing up straight in front of you, and not moving a single muscle. His face looked perfect up close and it all began with his eyes, his deep blue eyes that looked into the windows of your soul

    “𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗹𝘂𝘀𝘁, 𝗬/𝗡"

    He whispered, his eyes wandering all around your features as you gulped, he stepped closer almost too close because your chest came in contact with his. He was much taller than you so you had to look up, and when you did; you fell to your knees by his glory. His hand caressed your soft hair and he lifted your chin up with his index finger

    “𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲, 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝗲. 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗺𝗲, 𝗬/𝗡"

    He said in the smoothest tone, talking as if what he was saying wasn’t hinting to anything intimacy related. You whimpered as the angel unzipped his jeans slowly, but you stopped him before he pulled down his undergarment

    “𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗹, 𝘄𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂-"

    “𝗬/𝗡, 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗹𝘂𝘀𝘁, 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲"

    He said, voice going hoarse and darkening with lust as well. An angel shouldn’t feel those seven deadly sins, but his time on Earth hasn’t been very influential to his holy aurora anyways. He wanted you, you wanted him so what is there to lose besides his virginity..shit his virginity

    “𝗔𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻, 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗹? 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲! 𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂"

    You exclaimed, getting off your knees awkwardly as he just stood there, mouth parted in protest

    “𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗜 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝘀𝗼 𝗜 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀"

    His innocence made your heart ache and a desire to punch him in the face built up inside you as well. You placed a hand on his right shoulder and smiled softly

    “𝗜 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗜 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗮𝗵 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗜𝗡 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝘄𝗮𝘆"

    You explained and he nodded

    “𝗢𝗵 𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗼 𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄"

    He said like a lost puppy, you groaned in frustration but eventually gave into him because who could say no to him? Exactly, no one.

    “𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗲, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗲"

    He nodded again, no need to talk because seeing you kneel before him had his cock rise and oxygen cut short in no time. You pulled down his jeans as well with his boxers, grasping the vigorous girth of his in your hand and kissing the tip teasingly. His breathing rigged, soft hands resting on the top of your head, and fingers gripping your hair as you began bobbing your head up and down in a steady pace. Tongue laid out on the underside of his shaft and eyes fixated on his head being thrown back and eyes closing to memorize the feeling of your warm mouth enclosing around him, you moaned from the sight causing faint vibrations to shake around him


    He moaned, his hips thrusting forward and cock reaching deeper in the depths of your throat. You stimulated him by grasping his balls and sucking faster, tongue swirling around his shaft as he started fucking your throat abruptly. Stroking the rest of his cock that you couldn’t fit in your mouth and applying enough pressure to bring him over the edge, you continued bobbing your head and stopping at the hilt of his cock, shaft twitching and his hands gripping your hair roughly unintentionally as he came in thick ropes. The hotness of his release almost burnt your throat if it weren’t for him pushing you off and cumming on your chest, covering your breasts with white and grunting as you ran your tongue along the slit of the head and swallowed every last drop of this previous climax.

    “𝗔𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴"

    He commented, clearly taken back since this was all new to him. For all you know, he probably has never even watched porn in all his existence let alone do something so unholy.

    You ran your hands down his stomach and stroked his semi-hard erection while kissing him. He kissed back but not as gentle as you expected, lips soft and moving in rhythm against yours, he gripped your breasts and unhooked your bra. Letting the lace fall to the floor and be forgotten, his hands groped you pugnaciously as he was eager to get you bare and spread out on the counter. You hit the edge of the bar table and jumped up on it, tugging at his hair and kissing him more aggressively, desperate to have him.

    “𝗜 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂"

    You whispered, pecking his top lip and kissing his neck. Lips dancing along the collarbone and sucking the skin between your teeth, leaving behind a hickey that would still be there tomorrow for a reminder that he was yours for tonight, you stopped kissing him altogether and he saw the hickey

    “𝗗𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗿𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝗲?"

    He asked, touching the wet patch and pondering

    “𝗦𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳. 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗮𝗸𝗮 𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘆"

    You explained, he hummed in amusement and smiled

    “𝗖𝗮𝗻 𝗜 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗼𝗻𝗲?"

    “𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗮 𝗹𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘆. 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗴𝗲 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 𝗼𝗳𝗳, 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗱𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀"

    You moaned surprisingly as he attacked your neck and copied exactly what you did a few moments ago. His tongue caressed your skin and bit down on the soft tissue, sucking in the skin and repeating the process with your inner thighs.

    You had no idea when you two took off all your clothes, but there he was kneeling slowly all the while maintaining eye contact with you. Your cheeks flushed in bright red as he kissed your left inner thigh and spread them apart, biting your lip nervously as he inched closer to your heat. You gripped the table out of anticipation and watched closely as he glided a single finger through your folds, thrusting his middle finger in and adding another. You choked on your moans as his thick fingers stretched your walls, he worked them into you and curved up into your g-spot. Grazing your clit with his tongue and flicking the pearl up, down, sideways, and you name it. He closed his eyes and engulfed your whole sex, tongue dipping in your soaked entrance and licking the inner walls in circular motion, your arousal soaked his chin as he buried his face in between your legs and worked magic onto your cunt.

    “𝗦-𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁, 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱"

    You rolled your eyes and laid sprawled out onto the counter, kneading your breasts, and propping your legs onto his broad shoulders. You clenched around his fingers and cried out, biting down on your lip practically tearing the flesh from how well he pleased you. Peppering your clit with a kiss and swirling his tongue around it, sucking and tugging on your folds, and moaning into you at the taste of your arousal dressing his tongue. Grinding on his tongue, you cursed and begged to cum, and he declined your orgasm. Pulling away from you and wiping off his face, he licked his lips and went back to his straight posture with a serious glare

    “𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗮𝘅 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗻𝗼𝘄”

    You whined as you ached for a climax, but he just kissed you to shut you up and aligned himself to your entrance. Sliding in easily and grunting at the tight snug of your walls welcoming his long cock that curved up into your cervix, and you gasped at the stretch and gripped his biceps


    He laid his forehead against yours and rocked his hips into you, reaching deeper and hitting all the sensitive spots of your cunt that made you practically scream from the sensitivity

    “𝗜𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗜 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗵𝘂𝗵?"

    He stared at your fucked out gaze and smirked, you kissed him deeply and clawed at his back. His cock balls deep into your warm cavern to the point where you can feel his balls hitting your ass every time he thrusted forward. Intertwining your fingers with his, he groaned as you laid your head on his shoulder and whimpered with every plunge of his cock. The burning sensation of his cock brushing your inner walls, veins caressing the ridges of you from within, and his overall girth had you drunk with greed.

    “𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲. 𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸, 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽"

    He gripped your hips and pounced faster, groaning as you clenched around him without knowledge of doing so. Your legs clamped around his waist harder, pulling him in as he began twitching signaling that he was close.

    “𝗬/𝗡, 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼- 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗱"

    He moaned loudly and rutted you once more, your walls contacted around him almost too tight to where he couldn’t pull out, and he came inside you. Filling you up with his seed and fucking back into you, you felt his cum push deeper in your cervix, the release swimming in your womb as he didn’t stop. You whined as your stomach tightened as well with your vaginal walls, letting loose all over his cock and shuttering in his hold. He kissed you one last time before pulling out, some of the semen oozing out of your hole and onto your thighs, you moaned at the erotic sight of your filled cunt pushing out more of his cum that you couldn’t take. It was a messy sight even for him

    “𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁, 𝗬/𝗡"

    He said while staring at your cream pied cunt that he made himself, pushing a finger inside you and thrusting the release back in, you held his wrist and winced

    “𝗧𝗼𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵"

    He immediately stopped and handed you his jacket, covering you up and putting his clothes back on as well with helping you up on your feet to get dressed and go home

    “𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼-

    “𝗡𝗼 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱, 𝗜 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿"

    You smiled at his puzzled state, he looked confused

    "𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲?"

    “𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹"

    He said, you chuckled and kissed his cheek

    “𝗪𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁, 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗹"

    “𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁?"

    Dean asked his friend who came in through the door in the early morning with coffee. Castiel’s hair was messy and his clothes out of order, Dean saw the hickeys drawn on his neck and clapped

    “𝗠𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆! 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝘁? 𝗕𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽 𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗯, 𝗔𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺-"


    Castiel said and Dean was taken back, Sam came in the room and saw Castiel’s state and asked:

    “𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂?"

    “𝗛𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗬/𝗡 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁"

    Dean explained and Sam looked at the archangel with a baffled expression, he two was taken back from this.

    “𝗗𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻?"

    Sam asked and Castiel nodded

    “𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲, 𝘆𝗲𝘀"

    Dean snickered

    “𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝗦𝗮𝗺, 𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲! 𝗚𝗲𝘁 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝘂𝘆'𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝘀"

    The boys laughed at their confused friend who didn’t understand what was so funny

    “𝗗𝗶𝗱 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴?"

    “𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵, 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺. 𝗬/𝗡'𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄!"

    Sam raised his voice at his not-so there friend

    "𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱"

    The boys groaned

    “𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗮𝘀𝘀!”

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  • destielwrite
    10.06.2021 - 1 week ago

    dean and cas spooning each other while they hear the banging of the empty by the latched door, she’s here. they continue to curl up together, and stare into each other’s eyes until black takes over castiel’s stunning blue. and dean is left with nothing.

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  • destielwrite
    10.06.2021 - 1 week ago

    Imagine; Dean and Castiel spend their last day on earth; together. (Pt 1)

    “You’re a good person Dean. Going out like this is a hero act.” The Winchester hums, fingers gripping a bottle of alcohol. He takes a swing, passing it back to the Angel sitting across from him. “Hero act. I prefer the term, using our last resort and knowing it isn’t going to work” Dean says, he knows Sam trying to control Lucifer is a huge power move. His brother is going to need every ounce of demon blood, and the worst part is Dean doesn’t know if Sam can come back from that. If he will even get the opportunity too.

    He snaps out of his thoughts when Castiel passes him the bottle again. They slightly graze fingers, grace flowing through the contact. It radiates so nicely in the Angels body. It’s crazy to think about, but Dean can swear he can see it flooding out in Castiel’s blue eyes sometimes.

    “So…last night on earth and all that. What do you want to do besides drink ourselves to the brink of death?” Dean asks, letting out a few chuckles when Castiel takes the bottle from him. It’s nearly empty, the Angel frowns. His eyes darting to Dean. “Perhaps we can help you get laid. I know Angel’s are-“ Dean does hand movements near his lower region area, “Preserved for Heaven. But dude, it’s the last night on earth. What are they going to do? Cut your wings away?”

    It was the truth. Angels are meant to be kept pure, true, and loyal to Heaven. Any desires were not allowed, and had to be punished. It was why Dean had slept with Anna when she was human, she had lost her grace, and was able to replenish any loss of human contact while she had the chance. That chance happened to be Dean.

    Castiel also was being given the chance, the only problem was, he still had his grace, he was still an Angel. An Angel that was slowly wanting to become a human for non other than; Dean Winchester. Castiel craved that intimacy that Anna had gotten from the Winchester. He figured that when it was time, Dean would offer. Though Dean never offered, he wasn’t even sure if he himself could level up to Anna’s level. He didn’t know how anything in the physical contact world worked.

    “I’d like to initiate what you and Anna did” Castiel spoke, voice heavy with liquor. It almost seemed like he was drunk out of his wits. Dean chuckled, obviously not getting the memo, “Great, buddy! We’ll get you a nice lady, no blondes though, they get too freaky. You need something steady for your first time” Dean explained, the man stood up, fixing his flannel, starting to make his way out with the keys to the impala. He looked back at the Angel with questioning eyes when he didn’t follow him toward the door. “You misunderstood me. I wish to initiate contact with you. Just how Anna did” Castiel admits, blue eyes almost glowing in the midst of the dark living room. Moon light showing Dean’s face get hit with realization.

    Dean walked back, hands up in confusion. “Cas- We are two dudes-“ Castiel stands up now, they were staring at each other. One with panic, confusion, softness, the other with intent, pure intentions, the need for contact. “Is the contact supposed to be with a female and male?” Castiel questions, the man infront of him shakes his head slowly. “No- but- you are my friend and friends don’t do that” Dean raises a good point. “We are friends with a profound bond” Castiel adds in.

    “What does that even mean? Profound bond? You do know Sammy was upset for two days knowing you preferred me over him!” Dean says laughing nervously, the Angel can sense he’s shying away from their first topic.

    part 2 coming soon

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  • destielwrite
    10.06.2021 - 2 weeks ago

    it was the little things, dean says to himself now that cas is gone. the tugs on dean’s flannel, and the small pats on his head when cas was passing the kitchen and wanted to make himself known. it was the way how dean and sam would make jokes but cas would turn to see if Dean laughed first.

    it was the little things.

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  • destielandmoose
    08.06.2021 - 2 weeks ago

    Anyone have any really good slowburn destiel fics? Smut or not, I just need a good read.

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  • maleyah-givemetomorrow
    07.06.2021 - 2 weeks ago

    In A State of Perpetual Disrepair (A Destiel fanfic)

    Rating: Explicit

    Tags: A/B/O, Alpha!Cas/Omega!Dean, painful heats, hurt/comfort, true mates, slow burn, domestic, sexworker Castiel, idiots to lovers, POV alternating, age gap (no one cares rlly)

    Wordcount: 64.363

    Series: The Disrepair 'Verse

    Chapter 1: “I hear you’re going through a rough heat?”

    Castiel closes the door to the meeting room behind him, pleased with and reassured about the numbers. Balthazar looks smug when they shake hands.

    “I hope you’ll trust me next time I make a suggestion, Mr. Novak.”

    His last name sounds foreign and all too tongue-in-cheek from his friend-slash-bookkeeper’s mouth. It isn’t necessary. Castiel is hardly one for formality. Bal is just being his dickish self, because he proved a point that wasn’t even truly a point to begin with.

    “Yes, Bal,” he says. “Your gamble paid off. That doesn’t mean I won’t critically assess any and all wild plans you or I or anyone else come up with when it affects this company.”

    His main concern was, in fact, the fate of the second venue. He was sure he’d crunched the numbers right the first time around, during the preparation phase, but it’s always lovely to see his own assessment confirmed by a professional, even a smug one.

    “Wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” Balthazar smiles. “Though I do believe your wild plan-days are well behind you.”

    He gives a noncommittal shrug under Balthazar’s twinkling gaze.

    “See you next month?” Bal asks.

    “Unless some calamity befalls us.”

    Which isn’t likely. Brush is doing well.

    “God forbid. I do expect a dinner date at some point in the near future. I only get to see you for work lately.”

    “I’ll do my best.”

    It is a version of the truth. All for a good reason, Castiel muses, while he watches Bal swagger his way outside, exchanging winks and waves with his personnel like he’s some sort of celebrity. Seeing as he’s a former employee, in a way to some of them, he is.

    Looking around, Castiel takes in his surroundings. Modest. Clean. Lots of light. A good five people are working the phones, four of them engaged, which means it’s a busy day. He perks his ears when he catches the concerned tone in Jody’s voice.

    His business partner, who insists on doing shifts on the phone. Can’t claim to be an equity service and not show up, which is something that’s been eating at Castiel. Ever since he stopped going out ‘in the field’, because he was too busy running the company, it hasn’t felt the same. The screening. The interviews. The marketing. The shareholding, even, thank you very much, Bal. Cleaners, tech crew, customer service. The list of hats he wears is endless.

    That and… Age awareness. It’s a funny thing. He is getting on. When the grey hairs started dominating the darker ones, he figured it was time to stop spreading himself too thin and ensure the business was safeguarded. Let the younger generation provide the actual service. All for a good reason. It’s still jarring to be more of a business man than anything else. Castiel doesn’t identify as one. A hollow title.

    Though that could be down to something else entirely.

    Perhaps any and all of that is what has him leaning a hand on the back of Jody’s chair. She smiles, flicking her eyes up at him, perhaps a touch of confusion to her expression, but it’s short-lived. Her focus, like his, lies with their clients, though her sense of work-life balance is far healthier than his own.

    “Dean, let me double-check if we have any of our atypical Alphas available, but I’m not making any promises. Alright? Hang in there, sweetie.”

    The nickname has his nose twitching in curiosity. Jody is kind, but not prone to them by default. She puts ‘Dean’ on hold. Glancing up at him, scrutiny is apparent in every line of her face.

    “What are you thinking?”

    “What? No…”

    “I can see you thinking, Castiel. Don’t make me keep this guy on hold. He’s in pain.”

    Something intense yanks at him, like someone shoved a meat hook under his sternum. Not that he’s ever had that explicit experience. A knife between the ribs, sure, not meat hooks. This line of work wasn’t always so organized. Still isn’t for some.

    “What’s going on?”

    “Dean’s an Omega, who’s been with us for two years, because of his bad heats. Initially went with Alphas, but resorted to Betas, thanks to yours truly. Cramps, debilitating pain, the works. Even with our screening process, the Alphas we sent in seemed to get…” She works her tongue in her mouth, scrunching up her nose. “Ehm, unusually invested?”

    Castiel cocks an eyebrow at that.

    “Hardly the point right now,” Jody says. “Since then it’s only been Betas and he seems to prefer it that way, but we have no one. No Betas, no atypical Alphas. His heat hit early and he needs care more than sex, which you know as well as I do...”

    “… isn’t easy to provide.”

    Their society being what it is, that concept still isn’t as widespread as it should be. A deep-seated frustration fights its way to the fore, blending with his inherent concern and several months worth of antsiness.

    “Offer me up,” he says, keeping his voice and expression level.

    “You? But it’s been years...”

    He shoots Jody a dry look. “I’m aware.”

    Smiling crookedly, her nose scrunches up and she winks. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

    He stares at the phone intensely, fingers drumming on the back of Jody’s chair. “Make the suggestion, at least. See how he responds.”

    She purses her lips. “Not to be crass, but when were you last tested?”

    He wordlessly pulls up the email from a month ago.

    “I had no idea you were seeing anyone.”

    “I’m not. Force of habit,” he says. “And I do need to get through my ruts, so it technically hasn’t been years.” No, his retort isn’t generously salted. “Now… Shall we? Explain to him you have me.”

    “What do you want me to tell him?”

    “Whatever you feel you need to. Just pretend I’m back in the database.”

    “You still are,” she says.

    With a few clicks, she calls him up from the ‘retired’ ranks. The face staring back at him is glaringly confrontational in its cocky youthfulness, his hair still fully dark rather than the silver fox vibe he’s got going these days. Less lines. And let’s not even talk about the hopeful, bohemian glint in those eyes.


    Castiel tries not to eavesdrop, but for some reason it’s difficult. He hums to himself to drown it out, Jody shooting him an odd glance, while she converses with the Omega on the other end.

    “I’ve got one Alpha available,” she says. “He’s… one of our most experienced, regular members, incredibly empathic and warmhearted. Hella handsome as well, if I do say so myself.”

    The mirth in her voice translates sweetly to either side of the line, because Dean chuckles, while Castiel rolls his eyes at her fondly. Dean’s voice comes through a bit warbled and he can’t make out the words, but her answer gives away the intent behind them.

    She laughs softly. “I do mean a bit older than you, yes, but he’s within the age bracket you entered in your profile.”

    Nervous butterflies burst free around his heart. There’s more talking on Dean’s end, which has Jody’s face contorting in empathy.

    “Yes, he has. No issues whatsoever in twenty years. If you’d like to talk to him first, he just walked into the office. His name is Castiel.”

    The blood drains from his face and he gestures wildly at Jody in something akin to ‘what the fuck?!’, then promptly freezes when he catches Dean’s ‘Cas-tea-what? Yes, please’  floating when she puts the phone down, and suddenly they’re on speaker. Always quick on his feet, Castiel clears his throat, leaning closer to the phone, even though he doesn’t have to.

    “Hello, Dean.”

    “Sonova…” Dean seems to choke on something, before he finds his voice. Maybe it was a spasm of pain. “Heya, Cas. You mind if I call you Cas?”

    Forget love at first scent. This is love at first sound.

    The smile that forms at the request is one of those stupid ones. He doesn’t even need a mirror for that and his tone oozes like honey, before he can help himself. “Not at all.”

    Jody’s eyebrows shoot up.

    “I hear you’re going through a rough heat?”

    “You can say that again,” Dean huffs. “Not my first, certainly not my last, but…” The sound of his voice grows tighter, as if he’s biting away the pain, until a barely there whimper comes through. “I could use some help. But my experience… Please…”

    Castiel’s Alpha instincts kick in at the destitute sound in ways they haven’t in years, potentially forever. There’s a twinge of panic bleeding through Dean’s timbre. “Dean, breathe deep a few times for me.”

    Jody picks up the handset and pushes it into his hand. Automatically Castiel presses the receiver to his ear and all of a sudden Dean’s voice is in his head, when she takes him off speaker.


    “Yeah, I… Oh, fuck, this smarts.” Dean pants heavily. “I don’t get how I seem to forget this by the time the next one hits.”

    He sobs softly and Castiel’s heart is almost wrenched out of his rib cage. Leaning over Jody’s desk, he scans Dean’s file, committing the specifications to memory so easily, he may as well have been doing this yesterday.

    “It’s because our minds are designed to help us survive better. Breathe for me, Dean.”

    “Huh?” He hears the harsh, shaky inhales and the even shakier, slow-ish exhales. Dean is trying to acquiesce to Castiel’s request.

    “We have to forget intense pain to keep going. To help keep us in the present or we’d be continuously afraid or hung up, potentially doing dumb shit. Or missing out.”

    Dean chuckles through a pained sound. “Awesome. Okay, you can come over.”


    “We’re good. Please come over. I need…”

    “We are? I mean, yes. Yes. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.”

    He almost offers to call Dean from his cell, so he can keep him occupied on the way, which is such a far cry from protocol, he barely manages to swallow it down. Barely.

    “Thanks, man.”

    Jody eyes him up and down, after they hang up. “You, umm… You look a little excited.”

    He doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps quiet, while he grabs his trench off the coat rack. Adjusting his tie, he double-checks he has his belongings: phone, wallet and keys.


    His gaze snaps to Jody. “I may be a touch nervous,” he admits. “Not sure why.”

    “Maybe because it’s been a while after all?”

    Squinting at her, he notices the smirk forming, and huffs softly. “I have to go pick up some of my stuff.”

    “Best hurry. Do take care of him. He deserves it.”

    Like he needed that little bit of intel to lure his Alpha into maybe speeding.

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  • maleyah-givemetomorrow
    07.06.2021 - 2 weeks ago

    Dance Real Close (A Destiel fanfic)

    Rating: Explicit

    Tags: enemies to lovers, spy/secret agent AU, Christmas/winter ball, first kiss, very flirty Dean, not so stoic Cas, top!Cas/bottom!Dean

    Wordcount: 5.920

    Series: Snowglobe stories

    Chapter 1: Why Did You Come Here Tonight?

    For the umpteenth time tonight, Castiel swallows and clenches his teeth, hard enough that he might just need a dentist appointment once this horrendous evening comes to its inevitable end and he has what he came for. Good thing the company has excellent health care. He forces his gaze into a faux-thousand yard stare, a wilful attempt to get lost among the many twinkling lights and ornaments. Just off of the shoulder of the man who is his current, last and most annoying obstacle.

    Dean Winchester.

    Dressed to the nines in a suit of snowflake white, he fits in at this high-end Yule Ball as if he hasn’t done anything else in his life.

    Top of his class and generation, ten years Castiel’s junior, much too skilled for his own good at nigh anything from close combat to subterfuge to extraction, his competition, who is, for some unfathomable reason, flirting with Castiel on the mission.

    The notably delicate intel retrieval mission they’re racing each other on. The mission Dean wasn’t supposed to be on.

    Why Dean’s focus is on said flirting instead of their mutual target is unclear. Probably because the boy thinks he’s got this one in the bag and, damn him to hell, he might if he were up against anyone except Castiel. Perhaps that is why Dean has been bothering him the second they caught sight of each other, as competing agents in the field are wont to do.

    Dean is a smooth talker, if not a very subtle one, Castiel muses. Odd, since he knows the man’s played a honeypot role more than once to perfection. His pleasant, if somewhat teasing demeanour draws Castiel’s gaze back to those bright, green eyes and that tanned, freckled skin so easily, while his mind ought to be on the task at hand. Multitasking being his second nature, Castiel still recognizes a distracting nuisance when he’s around one.

    And Dean is a distracting nuisance. Charming. Talkative. Clever. Much more engaging than Castiel expected (or perhaps they haven't had much chance until now and he's been missing out), but he is - still - a - nuisance.

    “Do you know how to waltz?”

    Castiel senses the doubt behind the words, wondering why Dean would even bother to lure him out on something so trivial. Blending in comes with the territory and at this particular, opulent ball, people are more likely to eyeball him for being a wallflower than for dancing with Dean. So...

    “Of course,” he says, straightening his sleeves out by the cuffs. He extends his hand to Dean. “I’ll take the lead.”

    Dean’s lips twitch while he tries to hold back the smile that provokes. Instead he works his mouth and tongue, until the dimples of amusement recede and he bows his head. Slightly. Just the right side of not enough to be bratty and polite enough to pass. “By all means.”

    He takes the lead, alright. Perhaps with some more force than strictly necessary, but how the light plays in Dean’s eyes is too pretty not to appreciate as he surrenders to Castiel with smooth grace. Despite being taller than Castiel - though not by much - his brain wants to refer to him as ‘the boy’.

    Castiel pulls them together without hesitation, Dean moving along fluidly. His beauty up close is out of this world. This must be the first time they’re in this kind of proximity without being in a fight.

    He likes having his hand at Dean’s lower back. His fingers find the subtle dip and he pulls him even closer, just enough to merit an indulgent rise in those eyebrows. He notices a faint remainder of a wound he caused. He likes the warmth of Dean, chest to thighs, and how they’re almost nose to nose.

    Despite all this, they’re both scanning their surroundings. On the job.

    Peculiar to be at odds and in sync with Dean in the very same heartbeat, while they glide across the gleaming floor. His thoughts skip to dreams - daydreams - pipedreams of something fragile and out of reach. Concepts that are likely not to ping on Dean’s radar any time soon, but have been doing so - most unfortunately - on Castiel’s. And why do they come to him in this unbidden moment?

    “You alright there, Cas?” Dean asks, strangely gentle.

    He ducks his head to catch Castiel’s gaze, coming dangerously close. Not physically. In the intimacy of the gesture of reading him and having the gall to ask. Lights dance in Dean’s eyes and Castiel isn’t sure if he sees amusement there or the stars above.

    “Fine.” It comes out even more clipped than usual.

    “If you say so,” Dean says on a casual shrug.

    Castiel twirls him on his axis, their fingers hooked together strong, but delicate. As if he won’t let go, even if Castiel shakes him off. They step closer when the song comes to an end, Dean’s cheeks beautifully flushed. It makes his freckles stand out and Castiel wanders between them, finding constellations.

    A twinkle sparking off him, Dean winks. “Want to get our picture taken? It’ll last you longer.”

    Castiel shakes his head,  much too indulgent of Dean’s behaviour. “We might as well,” he says, rationalizing. “Everyone else is.”

    “Awesome,” Dean smiles, his American accent slipping in.

    Careless. He makes a warning tsk sound, which he's unsure Dean catches, while he trails after him, appreciating the view.

    They get in line at the picture booth. It’s an elegant, wintery background, complete with icicles and a white and gold-decorated pine tree. There is a box of props people can wear or hold, should they be so inclined. One of many confusing things about civilians. They watch couples embrace and kiss. Some fondly, others with barely a hint of shame. A few groups of friends take their sweet time, making sure everyone’s in the frame and doing silly poses.

    “I’m not sure those antlers are supposed to go there,” Castiel comments at some point.

    “No, I don’t think so either,” Dean hums. “I wasn’t planning on wearing them. Were you?”

    “What? No! I don’t plan on wearing any of that.” He hesitates and eyes Dean. "Are you?"

    “Those wings would look cute on you.”

    Castiel huffs dismissively, eyeing the colourful feathers. “I doubt it.”

    Eager, Dean leans against him, straining to see more, warm breath at his ear. “I’ve always wanted to try on one of those santa outfits the elves are wearing, but I doubt they’ll let me change out here in the open.”

    His brain shortcircuits and he’s staring at said elves. Men and women, dressed in tasteful, but revealing versions of elf and Santa outfits alike. And by revealing, he doesn’t mean they reveal skin. They reveal possibilities.

    And so did Dean.

    The idea that Dean would be on display like that lights up certain parts of his brain, which usually lie dormant during missions.

    Castiel’s not sure what his face does when the picture is snapped. All he knows is he’s got his arms around Dean from behind, because Dean pulls them there and he wants to keep him bracketed. Their cheeks press together as Castiel leans over his shoulder, a hint of possessiveness to his gestures, while Dean plays with his tie.

    “Aww, you two are adorable. And killing it!” the photographer smiles, handing them the polaroids to wave until they're dry.

    “Isn’t he just?” Dean says sweetly, putting a hand to Castiel’s jawline. He hovers it down to his neck, leaving hot trails in its wake.

    Working his tongue in his mouth, he cocks a gentle eyebrow at Dean. More flustering.

    He really has to get rid of the boy, but his instructions are to go about this diplomatically-more-sensitive-than-usual case with great consideration and care. No killing, no explosions, no dramatics. Fair request, since all of that and worse happened last time he and Dean were in each other’s crosshairs. They’ve encountered one another more often in the past year, which considering how good Dean is shouldn’t surprise him, but there’s something in their undercurrent that sends the world just that little bit off kilter. By now he lost count of how often that has happened. It just is.

    He idly wonders if Dean received similar instructions and if this behaviour is part of a tactic.

    Maybe he can tie him up and leave him somewhere in a closet?

    Or his bedroom.

    Hold up, Novak.

    The thought is as abrupt as it is pleasing, which he is sure Dean is to blame for entirely. Other daydreams. Bemused, Castiel tilts his head and studies Dean in a different light. The corner of his mouth ticks up against his own volition at the image that paints. Dean smiles, everything about him seemingly brightening at having Castiel’s attention, and, oh, if only he knew. The private, smug feeling is short-lived, when Dean flashes his teeth in a wicked smile and presses the tip of his tongue to them, leaning in.

    “Am I confusing your sexuality yet or should I strut over to the bar and back again?” he whispers. “Manhattan’s your favorite, right?”

    His hand lands at Dean’s hip involuntarily. Skin prickling all over his body, Castiel snorts before he can stop himself. Their profession entails having intimate and private information about everyone they meet, though why his preferred cocktail belongs in that folder is strange.

    Everything about Dean’s behaviour is strange. “Not in this abysmal city.”

    “Ahh, a truthful response at last,” Dean smiles. “What’ll be your poison? As in booze, sunshine, don’t look at me as if I might poison you. That's one of your tricks. I know all of them.”

    Unsure whether he wants to prove just which tricks he has up his sleeve or, indeed, poison the man (unconscious, perhaps, not dead), he dismisses the taunt easily, though he finds himself wishing Dean would pipe the hell down. One thing to flirt openly. Another to speak so brazenly of their skill sets.

    “Do you now?”

    “Studied each and every one of your cases and your file front to back and reverse several times over.”

    Castiel frowns, confused by the something-but-definitely-not-professional look Dean gives him. Professional spy-assassins, my ass, he thinks. Suddenly uncomfortable, he steps back and throws Dean a bone just to get rid of him. For a moment. To catch his breath.

    “A Cosmopolitan. They shouldn’t be able to screw that up.”

    “So you aren’t confused?”

    Castiel grumbles, unnerved by how close Dean remains. “Only by the fact that you insist on being in my orbit with your incessant behaviour.”

    “What can I say? You looked lonely, all crisp and handsome in a suit and that tie… ”

    Perhaps it’s repayment for how he held Dean during the waltz. Perhaps he’s just trying to annoy Castiel for the fun of it. Either way, Dean has the audacity to tug at Castiel’s tie, flipping it over, which just doesn’t sit right. Or it does, because that’s how he usually wears his ties. Askew and flipped. Not buttoned up to his throat in a midnight blue suit that somehow, by the way, matches the colour on Dean’s cuffs and handkerchief. He scowls lightly as he watches Dean walk away.

    He truly doesn’t like this city or this venue or these people, but such is the nature of his job. To go where he doesn’t always like to go to gather information, go up against other agents, and sometimes relieve the world of an unfortunate soul, all for the sake of his country. His family, truth be told, but they are one and the same. Being among the one percenters and the scum of the earth alike, he has to ensure he never trips up, so he can live to see another day. Dean seems to live and breathe the life, but then he’s got some experience to gain still.

    And yet, right now, it is Dean’s presence making it… easier?

    Which is wrong. If they weren’t on opposing sides, Castiel would be guiding Dean and, hell, even as rivals, they learn from each other. Reluctantly. He scuffs his shoes on the floor a few times. Pensively he tracks his eyes over Dean, leaning on the counter. He looks at ease, but then he always does. Yet there’s something in those spring green eyes. They are trained to read people. No matter how much Dean talks or cracks jokes or laughs or taunts, there’s something beyond that which Castiel took note of the very second they met.

    A sadness. A vulnerability. Which, considering what he knows of how the boy got into this life, is no surprise.

    A brightness too. Wherever it springs from, it drives Dean to do what he does.

    The fact that said knowledge, irrelevant as it is to any case, any situation he finds himself in, won’t leave him alone, however, is a surprise.

    Because they are trained to read people, overtly or between the lines, and use what they find to their advantage. Anything that isn’t relevant should be dismissed.

    He can’t seem to dismiss that knowledge. Or the way Dean ducks his head, when he thinks no one sees him and almost tangibly slips elsewhere. How his hands wipe over the counter or fiddle with whatever he can find. A toothpick. A lighter. Something to distract him. Or how he bites his lip, not to draw attention or tease, but in something. Something.

    Castiel’s usually better with words than this.

    Dean’s saunter holds his attention up until the moment he hands the cocktail over to Castiel, making sure their fingers brush. Carefully Castiel schools his features, letting his eyebrows do that innocent thing that used to piss off his siblings every time it allowed him to get away with shit as kids. He sips the Cosmopolitan and hums in soft agreement at the flavour. Dean’s looking at him expectantly, which provokes a curious mixture of annoyance and enchantment. He licks his lips and hums to himself in warning.

    He’s spent too much time on this already.

    “Don’t you have a job to do, Dean?”

    “You’re welcome, Cas.”

    Dean looks genuinely pleased and not nearly as put off as Castiel had hoped. As he should be. They shouldn’t really be dancing or sharing drinks or talking. Castiel sure as hell shouldn’t be contemplating this something he sees in Dean. They’re rival agents. His genuine people skills, i.e. like normal people possess, which he has little of in his life, are rusty, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind his snark or curt replies. Oddly, he’s made the man laugh on several occasions, entirely by accident, and it’s hard to deny the flutter that released in his chest. So yes, he’s putting his excellent poker face to good use and hoping it actually fools a man like Dean, who in so many ways is similar to him. Who, oddly and isn’t that an unsettling concept, might be the only person at this ball who has any chance of understanding him.

    A sense of relief hits when an internal alarm goes off. All of a sudden his window of opportunity opens up, giving him the out he needs.

    His brain kicks into gear, going over the next steps effortlessly, including three fallback plans. Right alongside that - multitasking - he’s instantly curious which approach Dean is going with this time. If Dean has studied each of his cases and tactics, the same goes for Castiel, so he has a few ideas of how Dean will try to extract the intel and himself from the situation. So far, he hasn’t hit any of the marks necessary for those. Also irrelevant, he tells himself, as he downs the last of his cocktail. Standing taller, he steps closer to Dean, relishing one last time how that lights up those eyes, how Dean tilts into him like he’s a center of gravity, and puts his empty glass in Dean’s free hand.

    But suddenly he’s stuck in Dean’s orbit...

    “As charming as your attempts at… at…,” he falters in confusion when Dean grins wider and his eyebrows go up in obvious curiosity as to how Castiel’s going to finish that sentence. So he doesn’t. He almost growls out the next word. “Something have been, I’ll let you get back to work. I need some fresh air.”

    "That's twice now. Bold of you to assume I haven’t already got what we came for.” He licks the rim of Castiel's glass, before placing it on the platter of one of the waiters as they pass by.


    The whole remark halts Castiel in his tracks and he glances sideways, sensitive to the easy confidence of Dean. He narrows his eyes. “Then why are you still here?”

    Dean laughs. It’s a sweet sound, somehow both cute and self-assured, when he scratches at his scruff and looks at Castiel, eyebrows scrunched up. His thumb catches on his lip. That one is on purpose. “You don’t do this a lot, do you, Cas?”

    Oh, he does this plenty. He just doesn’t do it on the job. And, as far as he knows the man, neither does Dean, unless it’s part of his cover. Though he’s got quite the reputation in his personal life.

    Also, hmm, that nickname. No one calls him that.

    He doesn’t really believe Dean when he says he already has his intel, but can no longer afford to indulge this distraction. Sorry, nuisance. So he walks away without another word, surprised at the way Dean’s face ripples with...


    Keep moving, Novak.

    He channels his ability to blend in, slipping away into the crowd, heading for the deck. After that, it’s a small climb and he should finally be back on track.

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  • maleyah-givemetomorrow
    07.06.2021 - 2 weeks ago

    Under Your Scars (A Destiel fic)

    Rating: Explicit

    Tags: Atypical A/B/O, arranged marriage, modern AU, Null!Dean, Omega!Cas, fallen!Cas, glacial slow burn, dreamwalking, mutual pining, there is an owl, Top!Dean/bottom!Cas, domestic, strangers to lovers, (spoiler) Alpha!Dean/Omega!Cas

    Wordcount: 125.079

    Chapter 1: Do We Make Sense?

    “Damnit, Cassie, you’re beyond calm, even for you. Don’t tell me you’re still angry about your stag night?”

    Castiel slides his hands over the lapels, plucking off lint, not meeting his brother’s eyes. Instead the intricate design of the plushy carpet they’re standing on has him following the endless loops and swirls, failing to find a pattern. “A fair bit of that night has become a haze, truth be told.”

    Gabriel laughs, while he reaches over and adjusts Castiel’s tie. “Yeah, I underestimated that mead.”

    “It wasn’t the mead,” he says. “The hypocras did my head in. Stuff goes down like lemonade…”

    “So you’re not pissed off we got you that dancer?”

    Rolling his eyes, he finally looks at Gabriel. His older brother is prone to impulsive decisions and arranging that private dance had definitely been one of them.

    “I’m not angry about the dancer,” he sighs. “I just wish you hadn’t given him those directions.”

    “Aww, come on, you’re telling me you didn’t like him going Alpha Lite on you? Not even a little bit? I thought I saw...”

    Not the point.

    Glaring hard enough to cut off that sentence, Castiel grumbles, flicking Gabriel’s ear, and tugs at the stick of the lollipop that is bulging up his brother’s cheek. “Mom’s gonna kill you if she sees you walk into the church like that.”

    “She’ll live.” He tongues the sweet from one side of his mouth to the other, while he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Come on. I left you in peace about it, but before you tie the knot, I’d like to know if you at least got some of your proclivities sated!”

    “Fuck off, Gabe,” he says on a smile. “The fact that you know of them is bad enough. I don’t need to confirm or deny whether your little investment got me off or not.”

    “One can only hope. I’m actually concerned, Shorty.”

    “About what exactly, Shorter?”

    Gabriel squints at him, unimpressed with the nickname he’s been dragging along ever since Castiel grew taller than him. “The scandal you’ll cause if you leave your husband-to-be standing at the altar. Or, worse, show up, looking all handsome like this, only to turn tail and run.”

    “Is this you or mother speaking?”

    “Her. She never specified how subtle I had to be, so I consider my dutiful son business done. I, for one, would be highly amused if you pissed off the hunters by bailing on their eldest.”

    “Dutiful son, my ass,” Castiel snorts. “I have no intention of running and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t act as her mouthpiece.”

    Gabriel really ought to know better. Castiel didn’t spend his entire childhood reading fairy tales, myths and legends of love to ruin his own wedding, even if he’s scared witless Dean might not be anything like he dreamt. Or the vague memories he’s held dear. Some tiny part of his brain, the prudent portion he blames his mother for, knows Dean can’t be, because the beautiful love stories his grandmother used to read him aren’t real. They’re fantasies, at best. Sins, at worst, when they shamelessly dip into secondary gender kinks, and something he could suffer for greatly if anyone besides Gabriel had any idea.

    “Just… Don’t be so blatant about anyone’s proclivities again, will you? Unless they’re your own.”

    Everyone present, including the stripper, considered it a cute joke. A playful deviancy, because that’s what Alphas are in some circles. A dirty joke. A whispered desire. Something to indulge in but avoid in real life, unless under painstakingly controlled circumstances.

    “So serious,” Gabriel sighs. “It’s not like I’ll be able to order you a stripper again any time soon. Try to cheer up a bit.”

    Castiel obliges, but can tell it’s more of a grimace than anything else. It’s rare for him to show nerves outwardly, but they’re starting to bleed through. Easy enough for Gabe to pick up on, but then that’s exactly why he’s been needling him.

    “We kinda know this guy, right? Dean wasn’t a dick. Not when we were kids.”

    “Which was a long time ago,” Castiel says. “But mother approves of the marriage, so everything will work out perfectly.”

    “Domestically would be a good start. It’s a beautiful day for it.”

    “Your optimism is grating sometimes.”

    “I know,” Gabe grins. “I can’t help it. Because I’m not sure what else to give you in the face of you being married off to a Winchester.”

    Theirs is to be a marriage of convenience. A plottwist he has their childhood to thank for, when their parents were endeared by how well they got along. That, at least, is the story they like to tell to outsiders. Truth of the matter is that the Winchesters are supernatural hunters and the Novaks, as fallen angels with a penchant for meddling in too many affairs for their own good, would prefer to keep all family members off the hit list. Except the inconvenient ones. Since he keeps himself as far removed as possible from his family's politics, he has no clue what the Winchesters are getting out of it, though the Novaks possess enough abilities and connections to make it worth their while.

    The business transaction layer to this moment suddenly makes him feel cheap.

    There had only been one true condition. If unfulfilled it would have been the proverbial penny on the tracks to derail this train. Neither of them could present as an Alpha along the way. Seeing as they didn’t, it landed Castiel right here. About to walk out into an over-packed church, full of hunters and fallen angels. He suspects there are a fair few supernatural beings among them, though theoretically all of them have to be well-adjusted. About to get married to Dean Winchester, eldest son of the Winchester family, who presented as Null. A safe haven for an unmated Omega like himself. A status that won’t ever change either. He rubs his hand up the side of his neck.

    “Hey,” Gabriel says, snapping his fingers in front of Castiel’s face. “Where’d you go?”

    “Nowhere useful.”

    “Ready to go meet your husband?” Gabriel laughs. “Oh, would you look at that smile. You’re kinda into this after all, huh?”

    “It’s my wedding day. I feel like my stomach’s full of butterflies, even if I’m not sure who I’m walking towards, you’re right. He was a sweet kid.”

    “Let’s hope he grew up hot as fuck.”

    He scoffs, though a part of him doesn’t fully disagree.

    “Thanks for walking me down the aisle.”

    “Psht. Who else? Mom? Luci? Fuck that.” Gabriel works his shoulders, adjusting the sleeves while he does so, and turns his cufflinks the right way up.

    “I’m sure the penis cufflinks and matching bow tie will be appreciated.”

    “Right?! Let’s go put a smile on mom’s face.”


    Castiel’s sure he’s squeezing Gabriel’s hand to the point of breaking fingers by the time they make it to the end of the aisle. The faces of those present are a blur, but he catches the familiar ones all the same.

    His mother’s attire is the usual three-piece suit, though the light blue pastel looks off on her. Makes her look softer than he knows her to be.

    “Those pearls in her hair look like a halo,” he whispers to Gabriel.

    “Looks are deceiving.”

    Very much so. Castiel would almost believe the picture she paints, if it wasn’t for the intent of the bright red smiling mouth never making it to her stern, pale blue eyes. He wonders how many attendees do.

    Their eldest brother, Lucifer, the only Alpha in the Novak inner circle. Held on a tight leash, he is a registered Alpha donor and, if anyone asks Gabe and Castiel, a certified big bag of dicks, because of his protected status.

    “I love her hat,” Gabe mutters.

    He doesn’t need to ask who. His strange hermit aunt, Amara, wearing a wide-brimmed peach-colored hat with wildflowers is pretty much a beacon among their kin.

    “Weird how little we know about her,” he says. “Yet she’s here.”

    “You mean besides that she’s supposedly a disgrace and mother doesn’t like her?”


    A bunch of the family’s business associates, a life he’s thankfully reasonably far removed from: Crowley, Zachariah, Raphaela. All of them look as neat and tidy as his mother in their slick, expensive suits. May as well be attending a funeral, for all the colour they’ve got going for them. Except for Crowley’s ostentatious scarf.

    His best friend, Anna, and the only unrelated Alpha tolerated in his life, because his mother can’t exercise control over her. He wishes anyone who wants to try luck.

    “Anna’s making that face at you. Translate?”

    “Something-something about the impression Dean already made on her, I think,” he admits, before he can think better of it. Makes sense, since Anna tried to call dibs on him when they were kids.

    He’s so not ready for it, but he smiles at her, earning a reassuring, wide smile back, while she entwines her hands under her chin as if she’s praying. For all the good that does anyone.

    “Well, we’re only halfway. You can still turn back. His side of the church looks crazy.”

    Curiosity shoots through him, making his insides feel like a swarm of bees and butterflies are trying to make babies. Wait, no, it’s the birds and the bees.


    He knows his family. Through and through. Their faces, the way they carry themselves, their flaws and who he trusts with his secrets. So he allows his attention to be pulled towards said other side of the church. Because at the end of the aisle is Dean and he’s a lot more nervous than he let on.

    The Winchester family is large in and of itself, their network massive with a charmingly wild aesthetic, contrasting starkly with the crispness of the Novaks. His gaze tracks over them, searching, sniffing for something, though it’s no use. Everyone in attendance, including the Betas and his husband-to-be near the altar, where he dares not look yet, is hidden behind blockers.

    They’re a diverse bunch, dressed in suits and a surprising amount of plaid. He spots an unusually tall young man, smiling at him kindly, while he tosses his hair out of his eyes. Castiel fails to immediately recognize him. Beside him is a red-headed girl, who looks like she might vibrate out of her skin. The warmth in her dark eyes, when they meet his, takes him by surprise and he returns it hesitantly.

    “You recognize anyone?”

    “Tall guy’s his brother. Remember the chubby, little kid?”

    “Oh, wow.”

    “Yeah. Totally appropriately dressed dude in the front isn’t his dad though. An uncle, I think? Sort of. Apparently these people like to adopt.”

    Castiel nods, charmed by the open body language in the brother. “I remember his parents. His dad seemed nice.”

    “His mom was the Alpha, right?”


    “She’s not collared,” Gabriel notes.

    Indeed she isn’t. He refrains from commenting further, because although his memories of Mary and John are vague, there is something unpleasant about his mother-in-law that stuck with him. It wouldn’t surprise him if she were a ‘demon’, as unregistered Alphas are colloquially known, though how she manages to steer clear of the authorities is another matter. He can’t recall whether it was something she said or did back then, or if perhaps Dean told him something, but for some reason he doesn’t like her. He feels an intense pang of sympathy for Dean losing his dad so young.

    It hardly matters, because all of a sudden Gabriel brings them to a halt, and his blood rushes in his ears. He slowly breathes out, dimly aware of Gabe’s soft chuckle when he releases Castiel, and a large, unfamiliar hand takes his. Instinctively he squeezes down on the warm fingers, only to find the pressure returned. They entwine in a stuttering heartbeat and he’s not sure which of them did that. The next thing he knows, they’re standing less than an arm’s length away and all that’s left to do is look up.

    Except he’s stuck on Dean’s hips, cause they sort of shimmied into his line of sight when their entwined hands fell between them at thigh height. Speaking of thighs. Everything wrapped in an oxblood hue, shiny fabric. Unusual colour choice. He wants to run his fingers over it. Or the... His mouth goes a bit dry.

    There are strands of thoughts, at best. Perhaps. Maybe? What’s his first language again?

    Word sounds slip out of his already faint grip on the world, when he drags his eyes across a buttoned waistcoat to a pair of broad shoulders, snug in a tailor-made jacket. No tie. Buttons popped on a black shirt. A hint of a tattoo at his collarbone. Follows the column of tanned skin all the way up.

    Because apparently Dean’s taller than him. Not by much, he muses, gaze catching on impressions. Oh. He found a word. Dean’s an impressionist painting. He must be, the way Castiel doesn’t know where to look first. Because his heart is already realizing what his brain has trouble understanding, lost in the light catching on details and edges.


    Dean is a lot.

    A broad, clean-shaven jaw, which clenches charmingly, even if Castiel has no idea why.

    Lips, parted, full and, his sleaze of a brain provides, looking like they’re thoroughly kissable. His own may or may not form a mute ‘fuck’ at it all.


    So many sun-kissed freckles, he instantly loses count.

    And then Dean smiles, revealing interesting canines.

    Ducks his head, while he does. Subdued, oddly vulnerable. But he may be reading that wrong. Castiel reads a lot wrong, except if it’s ink. He hopes he doesn’t let out a whine, when Dean casts him a curious look, his eyebrows expressive above a pair of golden-green eyes. He carries himself with an appealing cockiness, which Castiel can’t pinpoint as bluster or true to form. It could be the way he remembers him.

    Something pulls at him, as if Dean’s reconfirmed, physical existence ties him to the earth. A strange, old feeling swells around his heart, a shadowy echo of which he sometimes feels while reading stories, and once for real when he first met Dean. As pups.

    His world narrows down to the two of them. Perhaps he even forgets about himself and the impression he’s hoping to make, while he takes in his husband-to-be and tries to become aware of the world around him once more.

    “Heya, Cas,” Dean says.

    He inhales, body shaking and lungs expanding greedily, because his brain seems to have forgotten he needs that. Oxygen. Honey in his ear, Dean’s voice instantly sinks into his bones: deep, vibrant, and kind, even while he seems acutely aware and restrained under the scrutiny of their surroundings. Contrary to Castiel, who forgot all about them.

    “Hello, Dean.”

    The priest welcomes and bids the attendees to sit down, taking them along on waves of words Castiel doesn’t listen to. Not fully, because he’s too enthralled. It’s difficult to be disappointed, faced with a man like Dean. The feisty, little pup he once knew grew into this?

    If he still had any faith left, he'd say God did him a favour.

    A tiny sliver nestles somewhere, mute but stubborn in its wish to be acknowledged. Dean isn’t an Alpha, though how he remembers him, Castiel half-expected him to present as such. Hoped for it, which in terms of sin, is a whopper.

    Their fingers remain laced throughout, Dean’s thumb running soothing circles over his palm and the inside of his wrist.

    When Dean says the words, he sounds like he means them, though perhaps the fact that his voice breaks a few times has to do with that. It makes Castiel step closer, entwining the other hand as well, because for all that this is a business transaction between their families, he’s going to spend his life with this man.

    Castiel’s voice quivers in turn, when he utters the lines that tie them together. Promises of old, more meaningful, he hopes, than the one that got them here.

    It’s the next moment he sort of lost track of that catches him by surprise. Vows exchanged.



    He barely has time to remember what it means exactly - nope, kisses aren’t thimbles - when his body, his Omega, takes over and he steps into Dean’s personal space. It begets a surprised widening of eyes, quickly followed by a pleased, crooked smile from his now-official-husband. He relishes the sight, spurred on by impatience and want, if they could just - close - the distance, he’d be grateful.

    He wants more the second Dean’s lips find his. Soft, warm, searching in how they mold to his, and he wants to angle his head. Surrender to their first moment. Until Dean breaks it. Quick. Perfunctory, then. His Omega feels borderline insulted.

    Until he registers the tremble in Dean’s hands, when they cup his face, and suddenly his mind is skipping like a stone across a lake. To the other shore of potential. Of later. Of their wedding night.

    His cheeks flush warm and he’s grateful to notice Dean’s freckles stand out more as well, green eyes guarded, but alight. Almost hopeful.

    They don’t let go of one another throughout what little remains of the service, not even on their way out.

    Continue reading on AO3

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  • maleyah-givemetomorrow
    07.06.2021 - 2 weeks ago

    Ghost of a Chance (A Destiel fic)

    Rating: Explicit

    Tags: A/B/O, soulmates, soulmate-identifying marks, enemies to lovers, flirty Cas, reluctant Dean, Alpha!Cas/Omega!Dean, unsolicited touch (briefly, Michael is an asshat), chasing, full wolf shifters

    Wordcount: 28.931

    Chapter 1

    Dean drags his feet at the back of the group, tuning out the repetitive theme song of Charlie’s ‘what if’ and John Winchester’s ‘never back down’. Adam’s running circles around them or shooting forward like the pup that he is. Dean’s glad the kid’s excited, though he didn’t think it wise to bring him along. What he wouldn’t give to be back home, sink into his memory foam, headphones on with an array of snacks around him. Maybe drag the television into his room, so he doesn’t need to interact with the world for a while.

    John’s perpetual need for dominance ain’t helping. Sure, the days ahead are going to be tense, but the way he cuts off Dean's every sentence or suggestion on how to handle the upcoming negotiations with the Novak pack is beyond tiresome. What is the point of forcing Dean into his second-in-command role, if he isn't going to listen to what he has to offer?

    Because his father doesn’t want a true heir. Because he merely wants to mould Dean in his image until there is nothing left of what Dean might have once considered his own identity. Because Omega-driven approaches never land well with John Winchester, and his father is convinced each suggestion that reeks of diplomacy equals weakness. Not for the first time, he wishes Sam would change his mind and step up, but that is unfair.

    Truth is, he should know better than to let his Omega pipe up. Omegas ain’t leaders, so whatever approach he takes has to be… everything he’s not. Everything he’s perfectly capable of channeling, mind, because he was trained by John to fit the part, but it’s everything that… that… His chest reverberates with an angry sound as his mind trips up.

    His thoughts track to the rival pack leader, Gabriel Novak. Refreshingly, the man is a Beta, filling the shoes of their surly Alpha, Chuck, who passed last year. Sources say he is a reasonable man, albeit an eccentric and unpredictable one. He’s been known to strike deals with packs and take the piss out of them the week after. With so many secondary gender egos in the game, that rarely lands well. The Novaks can afford a few toes stepped on. Except for the Winchesters. Dean wants to believe the shit won't hit the fan because of Gabriel Novak and their family’s reputation.

    But if it does, it'll be because John brings up unresolved issues. The stuff that happened on the border between Winchester and Novak territory. Because that will provoke Lucifer and Michael, who will set off John and even Sam. For all his smarts, Sam's Alphatude can be a royal bitch. Hell, so can Dean. It’s ingrained in him, especially when it comes to her. And who even knows what the hell Castiel 'Angel' Novak would do? Dean dismisses the man's existence the second it sneaks up on him. Literally waves a hand as if he’s swatting at an annoying fly.

    “You okay?” Sam chuckles.

    “Fine,” he grunts.

    His brother falls into step beside him, nose up to catch the coastal city scents, wind messing with his long hair. “You think it’s true?”

    “Is what… What?”

    “That he doesn’t have a true mate’s mark.”

    “Who?” he asks, knowing full well who Sam is talking about. Though why he’s interested in the man’s Schrödinger’s true mate mark is unclear.

    “Angel. I’ve been wondering what it’d be like whenever he takes over.”

    “Gabriel’s young. Not gonna happen any time soon.”

    “I think he’s older than we estimate him, but with that whole Novak litter, it’s hard to remember. Still… Someone without a mate…”

    “... can be just as happy,” he says. “Just because we have the damn marks doesn’t mean we gotta submit to them.”

    “Happy?” Sam huffs on a laugh. “Not sure if I’d wanna use the word ‘happy’ on that guy. But sure, I guess that’s fair.”

    “Hey, not having to worry about that would free up a lotta brainspace in a lotta heads. Maybe stop people from doing stupid stuff, like…”

    Dad. He doesn’t say it. Knows he doesn’t need to, because Sam is smart, as his hazel eyes travel to John’s back. “It can be an anchor too,” he says lamely.

    “Yeah, uh-huh. Why do we care, Sammy?"

    “Sam. No reason,” Sam shrugs. And isn’t that just like him? To wonder out of curiosity, which is exactly why he’d make the better heir. He’s an Alpha, he’s smart and empathic, and he wonders about things. "Except.. Dad is convinced Gabriel usurped Lucifer with Angel's help."

    "Likely, but at the same time another prime example of limited thinking. Maybe they chose the Beta instead of letting secondary genders determine the course of events."

    Sam recoils slightly, eyebrows shooting up at Dean's tone. “You’re in a mood. I thought you’d be pleased with a change of scenery. They have Omega-friendly bars here.”

    “Not this again.”

    “What? It’s better than the ones at home.”

    Their somewhat backwards home, but home nonetheless, where he only gets into any of the bars, because everyone thinks he’s an Alpha, because Omegas belong at home. When the decision about his secondary gender was made, he didn’t realize how much it would piss him off having to pretend being something he isn’t. How much energy it would cost and how every night he goes to sleep hoping that tomorrow it’ll be easier. That tomorrow something will click into place and he can stop pretending. Be normal, for whatever that’s worth.

    He scowls at their beautiful surroundings. The ocean breeze rakes through his hair and sneaks through the fabric of his shirt and tee. A welcome feeling, as there’s an itch under his skin that’s annoying the fuck out of him. So, despite himself, he straightens up and smiles, because it brings on a sense of freedom. Sam’s kinda right. Different horizon and means of entertainment. The sun is warm and the scents are crisp, while they're exchanging the more rural Bunker for a city landscape during the next three days. Less, if it goes belly up. More, if they find common ground and have to hammer out an actual deal that leaves everyone unfulfilled and pleased they fucked over the other party.

    “I just wanna get this over with. Go back home.”

    He still misses her, more so when they’re recovering from the anniversary of her death and having to suffer John’s gloom, hanging heavy over the Bunker. In that sense this is a good change. If only it were an actual holiday, but that’s a rare event for any Winchester.

    “We won’t be in meetings the whole time,” Sam says. “I’m sure Charlie’s already looked up plenty of stuff we can do.”

    “We?” He smiles and nudges his shoulder into Sam’s. “You sayin’ you wanna go out?”

    “Yes, there’s an exhibition I want to go see - “ Dean groans and accepts the shove he gets in good humour. “- you don’t even know what about!”

    “Unless it’s old Hollywood movies, vintage cars or, I dunno, strange and colourful fungi from across the globe, I doubt your pick would be my pick.”

    “Shows what you know. ‘What A Genderful World’,” Sam says primly.

    His ears perk up at the words. Sam grins, likely picking up on whatever he’s giving away simply by way of being siblings, because yeah, okay, that might grab his interest.

    “Let’s get this show on the road first,” he grouches. “God forbid we actually have a good time.”

    “Just ‘cause you won’t…”


    They arrived early and took their seats first in one of those ridiculous territorial stunts packs like to pull on each other. As juvenile as he deems it, Dean makes sure to hold himself tall at his father’s right side, when the Novaks join. Charlie’s next to him, chipper as ever, though it’s a misleading front she maintains. She takes in the other pack members with quick flashes of scrutiny, as they move through the room, finding their place. All the while, she scribbles in her notebook so Dean can read, the way they did in school.

    Michael = Dick. Gabriel so short?!

    Angel very hot in those leather pants.

    Charlie wants to go exploring. Jealous of Adam.

    She was always better at summaries.

    Adam isn’t here. Kid’s likely making excellent use of the hotel’s recreational area, if he isn’t wandering the city yet.

    Nor are any of Charlie’s assessments wrong, though Dean refuses to acknowledge that when she underlines the Angel bit with thick stripes. Her fervour suggests her willingness to make an orientational exception, if given the chance. And considering his manwhore rep, the odds are in her favour. Hell, in anyone’s. Dean can feel his dimples breaking out, as he reluctantly gives Castiel a once-over, just to see what all the hubbub is about.

    The black and burgundy colour scheme certainly suits him, and his dark, messy hair is begging for his hands. Man looks like he hasn’t shaved in weeks, flashing even teeth through a lopsided smile at the guy who’s bringing in refreshments for the meeting. The suggestion in those baby blues isn’t even remotely subtle. Dean has no idea what he’s saying, but he kinda wishes he could hear, because he has never seen anyone get all flustered and shaky so quickly. Charmed too, if the smile and dilated pupils are any indication. Dean sniffs in annoyance.

    Still, Castiel carries himself with more grace than some people Dean knows, despite the fact that he’s easily got three buttons too many popped on his sinfully tight shirt. It provides an eyeful of clavicle and chest hair, which he’s got trouble looking away from.

    Like what you see? Charlie bats her lashes at him as she dots the ‘i’ and punctuates the question mark with a little heart.

    Lucifer trying to read, he scribbles back.

    Blocking the book with her arm, Charlie smiles at the oldest Novak son, whose face gives away little to nothing. A sense of disdain, but that looks to be his default setting. The man gifts them a disinterested shrug and turns his attention to the obligatory introductions, when his name is called. He nods at John and cocks his head at Sam. As far as Dean can tell, he doesn't look like a usurped, angry Alpha. Behind Gabriel, who’s oozing all sorts of smug charm, bound to piss off John, is Michael. Dude stands like he’s running bootcamp and about to yell them in line.

    The hair in the back of Dean’s neck stands up, a shiver rushing down his spine, when he’s introduced as an Alpha. He should be used to this by now, but every time a part of him wants to start a mutiny. The true part of him, he’s been thinking lately, for all the good the thought process does him. So he tends to quiet those voices with food, drink and telling himself this is good enough. That he agreed with John, even after the choice was made for him.

    Diagonally across from him now sits Castiel, the picture of true Alpha ease, who very consciously seeks Dean out when he’s introduced and inclines his head. It’s a minute gesture, polite in its intent at first, until he adds the most suggestive wink. His tongue flicks over a canine as he shoots Dean a flash of a smile, as if they’re anywhere but at a meeting with family. The suggestion is right there, even while Dean is lost for words. His skin tingles all over in a heartbeat. Dean moves stiffly when he returns something of the sort. A nod or maybe the facial equivalent of a stroke. Knows it looks as constipated as he feels when Charlie nudges her elbow into his ribs.

    “Ease up, dude, you’re giving me neck pains just by looking at you,” she whispers.

    “Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause my neck feels tight, alright? Probably from all the testosterone in this room. And I'm pretty sure it's mainly coming from one source.”

    Charlie gives a few tentative sniffs and scrunches up her face. “Hmm, that Novak flavour is something else.”

    “You lie,” he grumbles, squirming in his seat as he casts another glance at Castiel, though God knows why. Clenches his jaw the second that seems to amuse the Alpha. “Everyone’s behind blockers.”

    “You just said you can feel the testosterone.”

    “I’m sensitive,” he hisses.

    “Riiiight,” she smirks knowingly.

    “Quiet, you two,” John says, voice coiled tight. “Pay attention.”

    “Tell that to Jaws over there,” Dean bites. He thumbs at Michael, who’s been circling the table restlessly.

    “Charlie, do you have the files?” Sam cuts in.

    “I sure do,” she says, as she gets up. She walks around the end of the table, a spring to her step. Leaning between Castiel and Gabriel, she opens a folder and pulls out several excel printouts. “We took the liberty of redoing some of the math, you know, the correct one, so we’re at least talking about the same numbers. Signed off here by a neutral bookkeeper to prove we’re not… lying. Is that the word?”

    “Such an ugly word,” Gabriel chuckles, his eyes turning to slits. “Would never dream of using it on you. We appreciate the effort.”

    The numbers are mainly Sam’s area of expertise, which means as long as they’re on that subject, he gets to vaguely pay attention. Which, sadly, also means it keeps getting drawn to Castiel, who manages to contribute to the conversation, while locking eyes with Dean every chance he gets. Annoying, even when it’s making him feel hot under the collar.

    He idly wonders if the nitty gritty reality would live up to the charm that’s being tossed around like very cheap confetti. Angel can’t be as suave as he crafted himself to look, right? Probably smells funny, ‘cause he looks scruffy. Terrible sense of humour. Shallow.

    He tugs at his shirt to let in some air. The ocean breeze doesn’t reach all the way inside, but he can still smell it, and suddenly he wishes he was out there on the beach. His toes in the sand, bermuda shorts, sun on his skin. In the blink of an eye, that daydream is transplanted to the man who keeps staring at him so openly. Puts Castiel in equally tight swimming boxers, sunnies on that very straight nose, which could probably sniff Dean out in no time. Imagines how that chest hair would narrow down to a treasure trail all the way… He swallows around a lump in his throat and frowns at Castiel, when those dark eyebrows rise minutely. As if he’s asking Dean a question that has nothing to do with profits and cuts and...

    Doesn’t anyone else notice this behaviour?

    Charlie might, 'cause she sees a lot, except she’s too busy pointing out errors to the Novaks and giggling at whatever joke Castiel is cracking. No. Bad sense of humour, remember? The Novaks are probably used to it. Maybe it’s part of their tactic. Sam is oblivious to this kinda shit and John… Well, John doesn’t like Castiel much, despite his Alpha status. The word ‘manwhore’ made its way into Dean’s vocabulary by way of Judgemental John Winchester. What it means to be a true Alpha is a clearly delineated concept. It’s an ancient list of tick boxes that never got updated. Fucking your way through every gender (primary or secondary, Angel doesn’t discriminate), age and city isn’t on there.

    He fidgets with Charlie’s pen, pressing down on the cap hard enough for it to spring loose and skitter across the table. Without so much as a hitched breath, Castiel catches it under his cupped hand, releasing an amused chuckle to the air mid-sentence. He brings the cap up to his nose, flicking it between his fingers like it’s a magic coin.

    Dean leans forward, feigning interest, as if he still has the plot. His thighs and lower back feel warm and now he can’t take his eyes off those hands.

    Suddenly there’s an oppressive kind of presence sidling up behind him.

    “My, my, this is… interesting. This little bitch smell is coming from you?”

    Before he can look, he’s pressed cheek first to the table surface and an invasive, sticky breath hits his face. That’s the unfortunate moment he realizes his heat is close and, in the chaos of the past days, he forgot to take his suppressants. Which means this fucker, Michael here, just sniffed through his insufficient blockers.

    For a split second, he struggles against his instincts in vain, when he bares his neck, right under John’s furious gaze. Squeezing his eyes shut, he bites back the Omega whimper that wants to worm its way out, but it’s too late. His stomach drops, the world going hostile in a heartbeat. The whole table knows what he is. Secret’s out.

    “Get off me!”

    “We got ourselves an Omega!” Michael jeers. “Oh, and you smell lovely.”

    Dean yelps when Michael’s nose, unfamiliar and cold, snuffles at his neck. His hackles come up at the further invasion of his personal space, but his body goes limp for those few seconds that could have given him a chance. Michael chuckles deeply, sliding a hand up his thigh.

    “And so needy too. Tell you what, Johnnyboy, you give me this one and you’ve got yourself any kind of deal. Right, Gabe?”

    “Michael,” Gabriel sighs, audibly unimpressed. “We’re not here for that. Release the man.”

    “No?” Michael kicks the chair away, bending Dean over the table, as he shoves his weight into him, chest hard against his back, groin pressed close. Dean growls, but his body locks up when Michael’s hand lands at his hip. His mind goes into a jumble, when oddly his gaze finds Castiel’s. Please, no. Castiel’s eyes are nearly all blue, pupils reduced to terrifyingly focused pinpricks, as he sits completely still, his attention somehow on both Dean and Michael.

    “What about that other one? The little bastard son? You brought him along on the trip… What’s his name? Adam?”

    “Leave the kid out of this!” Dean snarls.

    “Adam has no bearing on these negotiations,” John says coolly. “As if any of you share the exact same parentage. If I’m not mistaken, you’re a halfbreed yourself. Boy’s mine, that’s all that matters.”

    Michael sneers and bends low, licking the side of Dean’s face. He is hard against Dean, which has his stomach turning with nausea and, more paralyzing, instant shame. Dean’s eyes close and snap open, immediately caught on the dark mass that is Castiel, when Angel rears up. His heart leaps with the Alpha's gesture. As if he’s going to step in… Gabriel is quick as lightning, when his voice cracks through the air, and Castiel’s Alpha voice hits like thunder in its wake, Dean feeling like he’s caught in a storm.



    Dean’s other instincts finally kick in and he windmills his arm back to front, cutting through Michael’s strength, the grip on his neck loosening up, every inch of touched skin burning. The second his head’s free, he shoves his other hand up and behind Michael’s neck, slamming him face first into the table and pinning his hand behind his back. His own is slick with stress sweat and he is sure he reeks.

    “Don’t ever fucking touch me again,” he snarls.

    “Oh, your eyes are even prettier like this.” Michael laughs, as he twists his neck until he can look at John. “What do you say? I’ll take both Omegas off your hands. Clearly you don’t want them, if you feel the need to hide ‘em.”

    Dean doesn’t dare look at his father, his gut in writhing knots at the turn this took. It’s going to be on him, when this goes south. Instead, he drags Michael off the table and sends him flailing backwards. With his training, Michael recovers quickly enough and looks as if he might lunge for Dean, until both Sam and Charlie step up. The fact that his father doesn’t shouldn’t bother him. John never has. Not for Dean.

    What surprises him is the moment Castiel lands a hand to Lucifer’s chest, when the oldest Novak tries to intervene. Angel looks at Dean, face like marble, Alpha eyes flashing red.

    “Everyone, sit your asses back down,” he orders. “Now.”

    Dean snarls and stands his ground, glaring at Castiel, then Michael. It might be seconds or minutes of this, the air around them so tense they could cut it with a knife, until Michael moves. Neither John or Gabriel look terribly concerned, but Dean knows his father well enough that this meeting just became a dime on its side. He wants to leave, but that ain’t in the cards.

    If only Castiel would stop trying to catch his eyes. For whatever reason, he’s pissing Dean off, the way he suddenly took control of the situation and is still doing so, by pointedly waiting for Dean to take his seat again. He doesn’t want to. Dimly he’s aware of Charlie, as she tugs at his hand in passing. He sways, but doesn’t go with it.

    It takes John’s whip of a voice to get him to move and then it’s an almost robotic affair. He wills himself to sit up straight, reading every unspoken order in each of John’s mannerisms.

    Sit up.

    Make eye contact. Michael flashes him a smile that makes his skin crawl.

    Take up space. Charlie leans her shoulder to his in support.

    Never back down. Go for the throat. He juts his chin out, when Castiel makes eye contact again, daring the Alpha to wink or smirk or… anything that he shouldn’t have been doing this whole fucking time. What is wrong with these people?!

    Which is why all of a sudden her name falls. Mary Winchester.

    And that marks the end of the meeting. There’s no point to continue beyond that, but they persist stubbornly. What he catches of Gabriel’s comebacks suggests he remains calm in the face of John’s accusations. Calmer than any Alpha would. He keeps his own Alpha brothers in check with a wave of his hand, but barely, and again Dean wonders how he got in that position.

    He stumbles out of the room and bails, ignoring Sam who tries to call out.

    Once outside, he breathes in until he’s shaking with the effort and stares at the ocean.

    Time to be anywhere but near his family.

    #mal wrote a thing #profoundnet#destiel#destiel fanfic#A/B/O #enemies to lovers #destiel smut
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  • mrs-danny-gold
    02.06.2021 - 3 weeks ago

    Happy first week of #PRIDE everyone!! In honor of Pride month, I'm going to experiment with something new and a little bit scary...


    My writing has always been something that I’ve loved pouring my heart and soul into not only as a therapeutic exercise, but a creative outlet for some of my favorite hyperfixations. If you follow my work you might know me as

    Sunwarmed_Ash_tree_and_the_dreaming_Stag on AO3 or BrandyGold on Fanfiction.net

    In honor of pride month and in conjunction with my own attempts at cross promotion, I am going to be posting one chapter a day for the entire month of June! Because my WIPs are about as random and scatterbrained as I am, I will be uploading chapters for multiple stories including but not limited to my current posted WIPs:

    -Ride with U- Harringrove (Stranger Things)

    -Love bites, but so do I- Jacob/Bella/Edward (Twilight)

    -How’s your summer?- Jim/Ryan (The Office)

    I’ve been cooking up quite a bit since quarantine and I’m super excited to share it with you all! All updates from here on out will be posted on Tumblr and Ko-fi, so make sure you are following one of those pages!

    Finally, one more exciting announcement, I’m now on Ko-fi!! For those who aren’t familiar with Ko-fi, it is a free site that helps allow creators like myself receive money from fans. It works like a tip jar, for roughly the price of a cup of coffee, you can leave a little “tip” on my work if you particularly enjoyed it! My goal with Ko-fi is to start gaining a larger following outside of AO3 and tumblr, continue exploring more of what brings me joy, and get to a point where I can offset some of my expenses with my creations :D

    A huge thank you to YOU once more for taking the time to read this, for your continued support over the years and for your part in helping me get closer to my goals!

    Tons of love, and of course, Happy Pride!!!

    (Now who’s ready for some gay slash)

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  • sirius-you-know
    01.06.2021 - 3 weeks ago

    Date:- So I've heard you read

    Me:- *closing 11+ Tumblr, ao3 tabs* yes,I love reading, its something that allows a little escapism

    Date:- so what do you like to read?

    Me:- smu..* chokes on water* some dystopian, also fantasy is my favorite genre.So fictional it is.

    Date:- I'll ask you for recommendations then

    Me:- * sipping water to avoid eye contact* Sure !

    #sirius black#destiel#wolfstar#malec#jily#solangelo#remus lupin#percabeth#frank zhang#hazel levesque #it makes me calm #lmao whats life without a little smut #drarry#draco malfoy#harry potter #okay i read books but i like reading fanfics too #calms my fucking anxiety for one #sabriel#saileen
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  • deancas-fanfiction
    28.05.2021 - 3 weeks ago

    A Daydream Away

    Chapter 1/?

    Summary: After multiple couples go missing from a resort in northern Minnesota, Dean and Cas are forced to pose as a couple to investigate the mysterious entity. As Dean and Cas navigate their fake relationship, it leaves Dean questioning what's real and forces him to confront his feelings for Cas.

    A story in which Cas is human, Dean is sometimes an idiot, and Sam acts as matchmaker.

    Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

    Tags: fake relationship, case fic, sharing a bed, human!cas, Sam ships Dean and Cas, fluff, eventual smut

    available on ao3 Read Ch. 2 Here

    “I think I found us a case,” Sam announced, entering the Dean Cave with his nose buried in his laptop.

    Dean sighed in irritation, pausing the movie he and Cas were in the middle of watching. “This better be good, if you’re interrupting our movie night. You know we’re in the middle of Half Blood Prince, and Cas hasn’t seen it.”

    “Metatron did upload the movie content into my –” Cas argued, but stilled at Dean’s murderous glare.

    “Being told what happens and actually experiencing it are two very different things, Cas. You have to experience it firsthand.”

    Cas opened his mouth to argue but didn’t get the chance, as Sam interrupted him by loudly clearing his throat.

    “Are you two done?” Sam looked at the two of them in irritation and Dean had to stifle a laugh at the almost stern expression on his face.

    “Sorry, Sammy. The floor is yours. Tell us about your case.”

    “Okay, so get this. There’s this resort called Grand View Lodge in Nisswa, Minnesota where couples have reportedly gone missing. In the past month, three couples have disappeared without a trace. No evidence of foul play and all of their personal belongings were left behind as were their vehicles. None of the other guests saw or heard anything.”

    “That does sound suspicious,” Cas agreed. “Did the missing persons have anything in common?”

    “All I can ascertain from the articles and social media posts is that the couples were very happily in love and were staying there on their honeymoon. But there isn’t a lot of information out there. I think we need to check it out, but we’ll need to pose as a couple if we want to gather information and attempt to lure whatever entity this is.”

    “Go for it,” Dean shrugged. “When are you and Eileen leaving?” Dean noted the sudden look of discomfort on Sam’s face as he awkwardly shifted the laptop to his other hand.

    “So that’s the thing…”

    Dean groaned. “Of course.  It’s never that simple.”

    “Eileen is on a hunt in Ohio right now. She just got there, so she won’t be back in time.”

    “What about Jody? Or Donna?”

    Sam shook his head. “Neither can get off work. Claire and Kaia are both out on a hunt, too. That leaves just the three of us.”


    “So, that means you and Cas will need to pose as newlyweds, and I can come as backup. The resort is looking for temporary help for the holiday season so I can work at the front desk and interview the employees for information, while you guys can lure the entity and interview the guests.”

    Dean choked on his beer and barely managed to sputter out a response. “You want me…and Cas… to pose as a couple? Are you serious?”

    “Fine.” He shrugged.  “Me and Cas will pose as a couple then, and you can get a job there. I just thought you’d prefer not to work at a customer service desk.”

    Dean felt a flash of irritation surge through him at Sam’s suggestion. The idea of Sam and Cas posing as a couple left a bitter taste in his mouth. Imagining them holding hands or having a romantic dinner just the two of them caused him to involuntarily clench his teeth and form a fist. He wasn’t jealous. No really, he wasn’t. It just – wasn’t right, okay? Sam and Cas probably wouldn’t be able to even pull off posing as a couple. So really, for the sake of the case, Dean should agree to pair up with Cas. All for the sake of the case. That’s all.

    Suddenly Deans thoughts consisted of posing as a couple with Cas. Well, not just a couple, but Cas’ husband. Dean’s mouth went dry and oh. Okay. That scenario suddenly seemed a lot more pleasant. They’d have to hold hands, but really, that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe add a few lingering touches and cutesy nicknames into the mix. But that shouldn’t be too bad, he’s used to Cas being in his personal space. In fact, he’s sort of grown accustomed to it at this point. Cas has always gravitated towards Dean’s personal space. While it was a mild irritation at first, it evolved into a comfort as it was something so expected. Besides, since Cas became human with the help of Jack, they’ve spent much more time together. Movie nights were nearly a nightly occurrence at this point. Their thighs always pressed against each other as they fight over the shared bowl of popcorn. Or in the mornings, when Dean rests his hand on Cas’ lower back for balance so he can reach a mug from the top shelf. Or when Dean tries to teach Cas how to properly play pool by standing behind him, helping him aim the cue. Really, the list goes on. So, pretending to be married shouldn’t be that much different than their current dynamic.

    Huh. That’s a new revelation. Before that thought can cause too much panic, he buries it deep inside and ignores the way it made his stomach swoop. “No, no. You’re right.” Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to hide the way his voice sounded borderline frantic. “I would be a terrible employee. I would probably be fired for flirting with the guests or yelling at my boss.”

    Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, great. So, you and Cas can pose as newlyweds, just as I suggested. I’ll book the cabin and we’ll head out early in the morning.” He stomped out of the room and Dean mirrored his brother, rolling his eyes in return.

    Cas wordlessly grabbed the remote and pressed play, leaning back into Dean as the movie resumed.


    The next morning, they were on the road much too early, in both Dean and Cas' opinion. They stayed up later than was probably wise to finish their movie. Then Cas had questions, to which Dean had to patiently answer and suddenly it was nearly two in the morning. Meanwhile, Sam was bright eyed and happily sipping his thermos of coffee as he lowered himself into the Impala.

    "Dean, if you wanted to keep sleeping I could --"

    "Don't you dare." Dean warned. "I'm driving, now shut your mouth." He heard Sam sigh in response and turned the key, feeling the car rumble beneath him. He pulled out of the garage and turned onto the road, getting a start on the nine-hour drive to Nisswa.

    The first hour of the drive was nearly silent. The radio played quietly in the background as all three occupants took the time to fully wake up. Every now and then Cas would nudge Dean's arm from the backseat, his silent way of asking for Dean's coffee. Dean would roll his eyes, but nevertheless pass him the thermos with a smile tugging at his lips.

    The silence wasn't broken until Cas complained that Dean finished the coffee. This, of course, prompted into an argument over who was entitled to the last sip of the coffee, only to be broken by Sam's frustrated interjection.

    "Guys. Cut it out. You can get more coffee when we stop for gas."

    "Gas station coffee is not the same as bunker coffee."

    "Yeah, they don't have almond milk at gas stations, Sam."

    "See? Not the same." Dean chirped, enjoying teaming up with Cas against Sam.

    Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and changed the subject. "We should probably discuss the case in more detail before we arrive."

    "What's left to discuss? Couples went missing while banging on their honeymoon. Probably a routine salt and burn of some pissed off ghost."

    "Delicately put, jackass." Sam scoffed. "I was thinking, we should discuss your relationship with Cas."

    "My what?" Dean's pulse quickened and he internally cursed his body for betraying him.

    "Your relationship with Cas. You know, for the case. We need to come up with a back story so that way if someone asks how you met, Cas won't say 'I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.'"

    "That is how we met, though." Cas insisted.

    "Dude, you can't just tell people that!"

    "We just need to think of a way to twist it, so it sounds normal." Sam explained. "So, for example, Dean could say he met Cas during a bad time in his life and Cas saved him."

    "That's putting it lightly," Dean commented. "Cas? Does that work with you?"


    "You're grumpy today." Dean observed, meeting Cas' eyes in the rearview mirror.

    "I'm not grumpy. I'm tired. And I didn't get my full amount of coffee."

    "You drank your whole thermos and half of mine. How much do you normally drink?"

    "More than that."

    "You have a caffeine addiction, you know that?"

    "Well, at least you two already have the bickering of a married couple down." Sam half joked.

    Dean rolled his eyes and focused back on the road; lips drawn into a straight line.

    "What else do we need to cover?" Cas resigned, breaking the silence that once again settled over the car.

    "Length of relationship."

    "Ten years." Cas answered easily.

    Sam pursed his lips. "Why don't we say you've been together for 5 years, and friends for the first 5. That will make you fit the same profile as the other missing couples a little more closely."

    "Jesus, Sam. We'll be fine, we've been in situations like this before."

    "I just don't want your cover blown. We have no one else to fill in. We need to discuss what your wedding was like, who proposed, how long you were engaged --"

    Dean cut him off with a sharp look. "The wedding was small, just close family and friends. No one proposed, we both talked about it and together we agreed to get married. The engagement was short, less than a year. How's that for our cover?"

    "That's great. Cas, did you get all that?"

    "Yes. Can we stop and get more coffee now?"

    "I thought gas station coffee wasn't good enough for you?"

    "It's not. There's a Starbucks at this next exit. I saw a sign."

    "Cas, we're not even halfway there yet. Dean's not going to stop yet."

    But sure enough, Dean was already turning towards the exit, cataloguing the way Cas' lips turned up at the corner.

    The remaining hours of the trip passed rather quickly. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in tune to his Zeppelin tape, Sam read lore in preparation of the case, and Cas happily watched the passing snow-clad landscape while sipping on his venti coffee.

    As they neared the town of Nisswa, the scenery gave way from a frozen landscape with nothing but bare trees and the occasional truck stop to boutique shops, rustic restaurants, and log-cabin-like structures that served as hotels and cafes. As they neared their turn off the highway, Sam requested to be dropped off in town so he could secure a car rental and check into his own hotel. Sam would be interviewing for the seasonal front desk position early the next morning, so he couldn't be seen arriving with Dean and Cas.

    "Oh! Before I forget --" Sam paused after stepping out of the Impala and dug around in his bag. He retrieved two gold bands and handed one to Dean and Cas. "Your wedding rings."

    Dean slipped his on and scowled at his brother. "Where did you get these?"

    "A pawn shop," Sam said sheepishly. "I grabbed them when I went out on a supply run last night. Don't lose them - I'm pretty sure they're actually gold."

    "It's probably a knock off and will turn our fingers green."

    "No, Sam is right," Cas observed. He held the ring close to his face, carefully scrutinizing it. "It's 24k gold. It's actually quite good quality."

    "Thank you, Cas." Sam said pointedly. "You two better get going and check in. I made your reservation under "Smith." I'll be at the resort tomorrow morning for my interview. I made a very persuasive resume so I should be hired no problem. Just keep your phones on you and check in with me occasionally, yeah?"

    "I know how to do my job, Sam. Cas and I will get settled in then we'll talk to some of the guests at breakfast tomorrow morning. Don't worry about us. Worry about your interview," Dean said with a wink. "Cas, you've been upgraded to shotgun, let's go."

    With that, Sam stepped away from the car, making room for Cas to climb in. "Be careful, guys."

    "Yeah, you too," Dean replied. Cas then shut the door and Dean pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the highway. "You ready for this?"

    Cas nodded, fidgeting with the gold band on his finger. "We met 10 years ago and started dating 5 years ago. A few months ago, we decided to get married and we had a small wedding with our closest family and friends. Now we're on our honeymoon."

    "Yeah, that - that's good."

    Dean cautiously glanced over at Cas. His hair was tousled from leaning against the window, with the left side matted down and the right side sticking straight out. He had an air of contentment radiating from him, no doubt from the dangerously high levels of caffeine racing through him. Since becoming human, Cas formed a very dependent relationship with both coffee and sleep. Sleeping became his favorite pastime as he was finally able to experience dreams. However, that meant he would often sleep for the better part of the morning, only begrudgingly getting out of bed when Dean would pound on his door to inform him breakfast, and more importantly coffee, was ready. Even then, Cas would be grumpy until he was halfway through his second cup of coffee.

    Dean would never admit it to anyone, but he always enjoyed his morning routine with Cas. Cas would silently sit at the table, watching Dean dish up breakfast. Dean would slide a fully loaded plate of eggs and bacon towards him and watch as he took his first bite. Cas would always groan in appreciation (which okay, maybe Dean enjoyed that part a little too much, but he would never admit to that either) and then Dean would refill Cas's mug. At that point Sam would enter the kitchen, just back from his run and openly making a disgusted face at the heaping pile of bacon on Dean's plate. Ignoring him, Dean would sit next to Cas, and Cas would scoot closer to Dean, soaking in his body heat due to the endless cold draft in the bunker. That's the only reason Dean would lean back into him. No other reason, whatsoever, regardless of the knowing look on Sam's face.

    Dean ended his train of thought there and signaled for the coming turn which featured a large stone sign with "Grand View Lodge" neatly printed on it. The road was illuminated by string lights and lanterns along it and Dean could see cabins in the trees along the road, with warm yellow lights illuminating the darkness around them. The Impala's headlights shone on a sign directing them towards the main lodge for check-in. The resort grounds seemed beautiful and very quiet. Dean could understand why it was a popular destination for newlyweds. The cold winter air made the glowing cabins seem all the cozier. He could imagine the resort in the summer, filled with families and children running towards the lake with sunscreen and beach towels in tow. It would be quite the opposite than it is now, in mid-December with below zero temps and not a single person in sight.

    The first sign of life they saw was the dozen cars parked outside of the main lodge for check in, otherwise no one was out of their cabins. "It's going to be hard to talk to the guests when it's this cold. No one will want to leave their cabin." Dean frowned.

    "Sam said there's an optional itinerary over the weekend for all of the guests. We'll have to sign up for some activities so we can interview them."

    Dean sighed. "As long as it involves free food, I'm in." He put the car in park and traded the warmth for the frigid cold. It was a sharp cold that hurts your lungs as you breathe it in. It was the kind of cold that you don't spend time in unless you have to. Dean pulled the jacket tight against him and motioned for Cas to follow him inside.

    The main lodge was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. The interior was covered in dark wood, with large leather couches set in front of a roaring stone fireplace. A small gift shop was off to the side and there were large rustic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Dean could hear silverware clattering and subdued conversation which hinted to the presence of a restaurant down the hall. The front desk was near the doors and they quickly approached to check in.

    "Good evening," The receptionist beamed. Her name tag identified her as Brenda. "Welcome to Grand View Lodge. Have either of you stayed with us before?"

    "No, Ma'am," Dean responded, leaning against the desk.

    "Well, welcome!" She said cheerfully. Dean could already anticipate that she and Sam will get along perfectly once he’s hired. "Here's a map of the resort grounds for your reference. It shows all of our cabins and the four restaurants we have on site. You can dine in or order room service. All of that information is on the back of the map. Now, can I get the name your reservation is under?"

    "Dean Smith."

    Brenda typed in the name and clicked a few times then looked up at Dean and Cas grinning. "You should have mentioned you were on your Honeymoon! Congratulations, love birds!" Dean felt his face heat up and avoided eye contact with Cas. 'Minnesota Nice' was very real and it was making Dean very uncomfortable.

    "Thank you," Dean choked out. "Could we get our keys now? We just had a really long drive and we're tired."

    "Oh, of course! I don't want to delay your honeymoon activities," she stated not-so-subtly. She opened a drawer and handed Dean two key cards. Then she grabbed their resort map and circled their cabin number.

    "Do you have a list of activities you offer?" Cas questioned.

    "Oh! Yes! This weekend we offer both wine and bourbon tasting, depending on your preferences. We also offer couples' cooking classes, and our spa is open for couples' massages. I see you’re staying for a week so here's a pamphlet of all the activities we're offering this month," She explained as she handed over a brochure. "We also have an ice rink which is open until 8pm and free to all guests."

    Cas opened his mouth to assumingely ask a question that would only drag out the check-in process, so Dean interrupted him.

    "Great, thank you. We appreciate your help," He then grabbed Cas by the hand and pulled him back into the cold.

    "She seemed nice," Cas observed.

    "Too chipper. Sam will love her."

    Cas laughed at that. It was the kind of laugh that shows his perfectly white teeth and makes his eyes slightly crinkle. It was the kind of laugh that was Dean's absolute favorite.

    Dean glanced at the map, noting where to drive to get to their cabin. It appeared to be a short drive from the main lodge. He started the car and turned back onto the gravel road they entered on. Following the signs, they were led along a winding road towards the south end of the grounds, where the now frozen lake is located. The trees were dense, and the cabins were growing sparser as they continued along the road. At last, they pulled up to a quaint log cabin that matched the number on their keys. The cabin had large windows and a wrap-around porch that would be perfect to utilize in the summer and fall. The porch light was on, illuminating the front yard which was littered with large pine trees.

    He put the Impala in park, and they grabbed their bags out of the backseat. The night was still and silent. There were no lights except for those on the porch. A large expanse of stars and sky nearly took Dean’s breath away. Growing up, Dean would always take solace in the night sky littered with millions of stars. With the ever-constant change of living on the road, the stars were always there. When John would drink too much or be gone too long on a hunt thereby forcing Dean to parent Sam, he would step outside of their usual run-down motel and take a deep breath, taking in the stars. As they got older and Sam’s nerd tendencies began to develop, he would tell Dean all about the constellation. They’d sit on the sidewalk with their backs against the brick motel and Sam would just talk. He’d point out the shapes in the stars and talk about the history and the namesakes behind each one. It was a most welcoming distraction from the constant shit in Dean’s life.

    Even now, as he looks up at the brilliant set of stars unhindered by city lights, Dean can’t help but feel grateful for where his life is. Sure, his kid is basically God. And he’s helplessly in love with his best friend who was an angel but is now a human and probably doesn’t feel the same way about him and now he has to pretend to be his husband at a romantic resort, which can only go poorly. Then there’s the fact that his mom was dead, then she was alive, and then she was dead again. Really, just piles and piles of trauma that he’s had to deal with. But God, Dean still feels lucky. Because he has a family. He has Sam, Cas, Jack, Eileen, Jody and the girls. During those years growing up he always assumed he’d be dead before living a life like this.

    A gust of wind whips across the yard, stinging all exposed skin which pulls Dean out of his spiraling thoughts. Cas is mirroring Dean from moments ago, also gazing up at the night sky. “I’ve been alive for so long yet the beauty and wonders of this life will never cease to amaze me.” Cas simply states, as if that wasn’t the most poetic shit to ever come out of someone’s mouth.

    At a loss for words, Dean clasps Cas’ shoulder and leads him through the snow and into the cabin. He unlocks the door and welcomes the immediate warmth radiating from inside the cabin. The cabin is incredibly cozy. The walls are a dark wood, with leather sofas next to a large electric fireplace and a big fluffy rug. The kitchen is off of the living room, which on a normal occasion would be perfect to cook some proper meals. Then there is a beautiful wooden table in the dining room with dim lighting that would be perfect for a romantic meal. Dean cut off that dangerous train of thought before it went anywhere that made this situation even more complicated.

    Speaking of complicated, Cas was no longer by Dean’s side. Frowning, he walked down the hallway that led towards the bathroom and bedroom. It was in the bedroom that he found Cas hovering in the doorway and oh.


    There was a king size bed in the center of the room with rose petals scattered over it. An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne rested in the center of the bed with a box of chocolate next to it.

    “I’m going to kill him.”

    Cas looked at Dean questioningly. “Who?”

    “Sam. He told them it was our honeymoon! Then this happened.” He gestured at the array of items in the room.

    “I see no problem with this behavior. They needed to know we were on our honeymoon for the sake of the case. And we got free champagne and sweets. Usually, you’re all about the free stuff.”

    Dean sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s just – never mind. It’s late and I’ve been driving all day. Guess I’m tired.” Cas just nodded and set his bag down. “So, uh –” Dean started, rubbing his hand over his face. “Want me to take the couch tonight? We can switch off every night or something.”

    “Dean,” He sighed. ”You said yourself that you’re getting too old to be sleeping on couches and pull outs. Hence, the memory foam in the bunker. Besides, we’re playing the role of a newlywed couple this weekend. We should probably keep up with appearances and not make it seem like we’re already sleeping in separate beds like unhappy middle-aged couples who are too stubborn to admit they need a divorce.”

    Dean barked out a surprised laugh. He loves when Cas goes on his weird tangents. “Yeah, okay Cas. That bed is huge, so it shouldn’t be a problem anyway.”

    Cas just nodded and began digging around in his duffel bag. Meanwhile, Dean removed the ice bucket with champagne from the bed and set it on the dresser. Then he brushed off as many rose petals as he could, determined to clear the bed of any romantic connotation. When he was satisfied, he began stripping out of his jeans and flannel. It was a long day of driving and his body was no longer accustomed to sitting for so long, so he was ready for bed at this point.

    Dean stopped mid-action, catching sight of Cas doing the same. Cas removed his jeans and then lifted his shirt over his head. Dean swallowed, trying to

    tear his eyes away from his best friend’s body but holy shit – Cas is toned. As he bent over to put his discarded clothes back in his bag, the muscles in his back and legs jumped out. His golden skin was completely on display and as a result Dean’s brain was short circuiting. Panicking, he grabbed his toothbrush and locked himself in the bathroom as an attempt to get his breathing and body back under control.

    So much for uncomplicated.

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  • gone-with-a-thought814
    28.05.2021 - 3 weeks ago

    Out of curiosity, ummm, is there like a support group or something for people who just found out that when you were a young tumblr (around 11-15) in 2012ish, that your fucking father would steal your phone while you were asleep and read everything you had looked at during the day? Because I'm about to throw myself into the Mariana Trench.

    #a03 #is this normal? #i dont think so #welp #sometimes trauma comes late in life #did i mention i was young and gay and on FUCKING AO3 #I HAD A WATTPD #A FUCKING WATTPAD #I WAS READING GAY ANGEL FILTHY SMUT #YOURE TELLING ME MY FATHER READ THE D**PTHROATING FIC THAT INSTILL THINK ABOUT TO THIS DAY? #no #just me? #fuck #im going to go die now thanks #destiel#merthur#stucky#wattpad#a03feed
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