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pointyearedelvishprincling · 3 months

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Live Laugh Leather

happy 3rd wedding anniversary to these idiots :)

(846 words) Also on AO3

Dean knew the rhythm of Cas’ footsteps from the kitchen all the way to their bedroom. Knew it better than the pulse of his own heart; as familiar to him as the scent of the warm coffee that carried with his husband every morning like clockwork. He found himself smiling against his pillow, feeling the early sunshine through the lake house window heat the frosty February air.

So the routine goes; any minute now Cas would pause to bump the door open with his pajama-clad butt, scooting backward into their bedroom, two coffees in hand. Dean would fake the grouchy attitude as if the gentle interruption had pulled him from sleep. As if, minutes earlier, Cas hadn’t waited until his spidey senses told him Dean’s REM sleep was done and he was ready for his daily stubbled kiss at the back of his neck. For the arm that tightened around his waist, sinking suggestively lower until Dean cracked open an eyelid. Falling for the same old trick every day, before Cas would rise his heavenly ass out of bed to start on coffee. Leaving Dean tethered between the land of sleep and this world of dreams.

Same old, same old.

And wasn’t that a hell of a thing.

Dean scooched over to Cas’ side of the bed. The warmth had faded but it was the scent he chased; like rich earth pounded by the heavy rain of a thunderstorm, the charged promise of lightning still to come. Like honey and ether and so like home, Dean could drown himself in it. Smother himself in his husband’s pillow with a smile on his face and a bulge in his pants.

And so, it began.

The gentle clink of the spoon dropped into the sink. The ceramic scuffling on the kitchen countertop. The first bare footstep on the warm wooden floor.

Three years of this, Dean thought, and he knew he could go a thousand more.

A squeaking sound broke the routine, and Dean perked up his bedhead to listen to the audible eye roll and soft sigh that accompanied it. The footsteps and squeaking drew nearer, and Dean propped himself up on an arm to watch the regularly scheduled show.

The ass that greeted him was familiar, but Dean’s eyes bulged out of his head like Donald Duck at the first sight of Daisy. Cas backed into the room, letting the door swing softly shut behind him.

Dean’s husband paused, breakfast tray in hand and a look of genuine surprise on his face that quickly morphed into a feigned innocence.

“Sweetheart,” Dean managed to say with a tongue that now weighed an ACME ton. “Are you wearing leather pants?” He was dreaming, right? Had to be. If the next words out of Cas' mouth were "tell me about it, stud" in Olivia Newton-John's voice that would surely confirm it. A laugh threatened to burst all the way from his belly, born of shock more than anything, because this was Cas. His Cas. In tight leather pants. Like he was Jon Bon fucking Jovi and Dean was eighteen, alone in his motel room and realising some shit.

But Cas ignored the question, setting the breakfast tray safely on the bedside table. When he turned to find Dean’s gaze still locked on his broad thighs, mouth hanging open like it didn’t know where to start, he placed his hands on his hips.

“The third wedding anniversary gift is leather, is it not?”

Dean glanced up from his stupor, feeling his heart swell like a damn balloon at his husband’s words.

Leather. Anniversary. Right.

How Cas heard "leather" and thought "pants"... actually, he didn't need to know how or why, because this was happening. Somehow this was real life.

Dean licked his lips. Didn’t mean to, but he did.

He’d tell Cas about the new leather couch he’d secretly set up in the Cas Cave later. Right now…

“The salesperson insisted this was the perfect gift,” Cas frowned down at himself. “Perhaps this was a mistake.”

“Whuaa-“ Dean started, tangling in the sheets as he struggled to sit upright. “No, no, they’re – hell of a – gotta tip the guy… god, Cas.” Only the need to defend these pants with his life gave Dean the strength to tear his gaze from them a second time.

He’d expected to find that frown he loved so much – the one that crinkled Cas’ brow, and tugged his soft lips into a flat line. Instead, his husband grinned at him, eyes blazing with that smugness that was the bane of Dean’s life.

Son of a bitch. He played him.

“Happy anniversary, Dean,” Cas said, stepping forward to crawl on his knees across the mattress, caging Dean in between his thighs.

Dean pulled him closer, sunlight glinting on the band of his wedding ring as he ran a hand through Cas’ hair. Three years of this. Already three. Only three.

And he could never have enough.

“Happy anniversary, Cas.” The words were a whisper against his husband’s lips.

The rest, he already knew. They both did.

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angelcasendgame · 1 year

Video

𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦́

happy birthday @shushhme!! 💛🌻🐝 (youtube)

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myaimistrue · 2 years

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holding close to my unsteady heart.

The apocalypse is drawing nearer and nearer. Everything hangs in the balance. And in Room 312 of the Harmony Hills Motel, an angel appears in Dean Winchester's bedroom. read under the cut or on ao3 here

Castiel is aware of how late it is. Dean has asked him before not to show up like this, not to just appear in the middle of the night with no warning. He wanted to wait—he tried to wait. But Castiel is weak, and every day, he grows weaker.

At his arrival, the sudden displacement of air, Dean stirs in bed. He’s the only one in the motel room tonight; Sam is at a woman’s apartment, sharing an encounter Castiel didn’t want to spend too long looking at. Dean and Castiel are alone in this place, Room 312 in Harmony Hills Motel, together.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice is rasping, low in the darkness. “That you?”

“Yeah,” Castiel says. “It’s me.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean sits up all the way, already sounding more alert. Through the dark, Castiel sees him reach for the knife under his pillow.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

Dean groans. “Then what the hell are you doing here? It’s, like, three in the morning.”

“I…” Castiel looks at Dean’s form in the bed, the blankets pooling around his waist. His soul is soft in a way Castiel has only seen it in very specific moments: moments of calm and safety, of contentment. “I apologize. I shouldn’t—I don’t know why I came.”

“Woah, hey.” Dean’s voice reaches out at the same time his soul does. They both curl around Castiel, imploring and gentle. “Whatever’s wrong, it’s fine. Just—c’mere. Tell me what’s going on.”

There was a time when Castiel would have been strong enough to refuse the request of a human. But that time is long past, and this isn’t just any human—this is Dean. So he goes, against his better judgment, and sits down gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Hello, Dean,” he says.

Dean smiles, but it’s the smile he puts on when he’s worried about someone. “Hey, man.”

Castiel looks down at the bedspread. The pattern is floral, and he traces each flower with a fingertip, recalling their scientific names as he looks at them. Centaurea cyanus, Myosotis sylvatica, Gypsophila elegans—

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong with you?” Dean nudges Castiel’s thigh with a socked foot. He’s out from under the blankets now, sitting perpendicular to Castiel, and he bends his head in an attempt to catch Castiel’s eye. “C’mon, what’s up?”

“I’m…” Castiel speaks slowly. It’s been a long time since human language felt foreign to him, but this is difficult to translate. Difficult to say. “Are you… are you scared, Dean?”

“Me?” Dean laughs, the sound tumbling out of him in surprise. “Uh, why?”

“Are you?”

Dean searches Castiel’s face, and Castiel tries his best not to look away again, tries to bear the weight of the Righteous Man’s gaze. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m scared. All the fucking time.” Dean’s eyes glitter in the white light of the parking lot outside. “Are you scared?”

“I—” His voice falters; that’s never happened to him before. Castiel takes a long breath. Feels Dean’s soul, glowing warmly within him. “I can’t—I’ve never felt this way. Afraid, like this.”

“About the apocalypse?”

“About everything. All of it,” Cas says, voice beginning to shake. “I’m afraid for your safety, and Sam’s, and I’m afraid about losing my powers and leaving you without my help, and I’m afraid of what will happen if we fail, and I’m—”

“Woah, Cas, hey,” Dean cuts in. He reaches out and takes hold of Cas’s wrist where he’s still tracing the bedspread, Centaurea cyanus, Myosotis sylvatica, Gypsophila elegans. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not.” Cas thinks there is another name for this feeling: despair. Hopeless, terrible despair. “I can’t save us. I can’t keep you safe. And I’m terrified.”

Dean looks at him for a long moment, his thumb feathering back and forth across the softest pulse point on Castiel’s wrist. And then, carefully, slowly, he gets down on his knees in front of him.

Castiel watches with hungry, disbelieving eyes. Dean slips off Castiel’s shoes, peels off black socks to reveal pale skin Castiel has never seen before. Then, he reaches up, hands hovering over the crotch of the pants Jimmy picked out one morning a million years ago. There’s a question in Dean’s eyes; Castiel nods, and Dean unbuttons and unzips and then slides the pants down Castiel’s legs. He squeezes Castiel’s knees with warm hands.

“Stand up.”

So Castiel stands. He’s the weakest he’s ever been, and despite that, he knows he could overpower Dean without much effort. But he allows Dean this, allows him to remove the coat and the tie, allows him to unbutton the shirt and reveal the white tank top beneath. He allows Dean’s hands to skim up his sides, raising goosebumps that feel like the thrum of grace through a vessel.

“Let’s lay down,” Dean’s voice is so soft, so quiet. Castiel wants to curl up in it.

Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever laid in a bed before. The mattress creaks as they settle side by side, and it appears to dip in the middle, forcing them closer. The sheets scratch against his skin. The floral bedspread is thinner than he expected. And Dean’s face and Dean’s soul and Dean’s skin is here in front of him.

“I know you don’t sleep,” Dean says, leaving it unsaid that Castiel might soon require it if he continues to lose his powers, “but sometimes it’s nice to lay with somebody you, uh. You care about. Sometimes it makes you feel better about things when they’re shitty.” Dean grins wryly. “And they’re pretty shitty right now.”

“They are,” Castiel agrees. “Thank you. For sharing this with me.”

Dean turns pink, right at the top of his cheeks. Castiel watches with fascination. “You’re welcome,” he says awkwardly.

And something about that, the color, the closeness, makes Castiel terribly honest. “I love you.”

Dean doesn’t seem surprised, not really, but his soul is flaring a bright, brilliant gold, something like fear and adoration and hope. “Cas, you don’t—”

“I know what I’m saying.”

“I…” Dean lets out a breath like he’s been punched, and Castiel doesn’t miss the sudden shimmering tears in his eyes. “Cas, this is really bad timing, man. It’s—the world is ending.”

Castiel reaches out and touches the warm pinkness of Dean’s face; his thumb traces the path of a tear, and Dean leans into it. “I know.”

“I—fuck.” Dean chokes out. “Cas, what are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel whispers. The edge of terror is close, still, but Dean is with him. They’re together. “I don’t know.”

There’s nothing more to say. Dean eventually reaches out and pulls Castiel flush with his body, tucks Castiel under his chin, runs calloused, gentle hands up and down Castiel’s back. Presses a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head.

And against the skin of Dean’s neck, the smell of motel soap and deodorant and human sweat, Castiel prays. His Father isn’t listening anymore, but maybe someone will hear it. Maybe someone will hear it, and answer. Castiel prays for safety, for victory, for love. He prays until the dawn light creeps up in the sky, turning the room into grey shadow. Then, he watches Dean breathe. That’s something to be grateful for: Dean, beside him, breathing and warm.

Some prayers are answered. The day is new. And Dean is holding him like something precious. That’s enough, Castiel thinks.

#hope you like it!!!!#deancas #destiel #dean #cas #del's writing #spn fic #supernatural fanfiction #caskarass #userkels #castiellesbian #offbeattraxx #userpiss

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angelfishofthelord · 2 years

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crimes of the future, dir. david croneberg/untitled, anh bui/introduction to the body in fairy tales, jeanie hall gailey/the bible didn't mention us fic/hebenon, hel vesper/organ, of monsters and men/the bible didn't mention us fic/sculpture by stephanie kilgast/the bible didn't mention us fic/never let me go, florence + the machine/admonitions to a special person, anne sexton/heavy in your arms, florence +the machine/mouthful of forevers, clementine von radics

chapter 6 web weave: sam and his body for @appleciderangels

#thank you so much for helping me with this chapter #my spn web weave #my spn fanfic #thisisapaige #meltingtracks #usertabitha #usermoogs #feathersforcas #offbeattraxx #archervale #spn fanfic #sam winchester #sam web weave #body web weave

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shelikestv · 2 years

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Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Summary:

“Dean,” John said. “Meet your angel.”

Blue eyes were fixed, calm and warm. Dean raised a hand nervously in an offer to shake it, but he just stared, confused.

“He doesn’t know much about humans, yet,” John laughed. He crouched until he and Dean were eye level. “It’ll be up to you to teach him.”

Start From the Beginning

Notes: It's been over a year since I finished "The Pull of Us," and I decided it's time to start writing again. Gonna tag some mutuals just in case anyone might be interested.

#angst #The Angel Handbook #lindsay writes #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #mybelovedcas #donestiel #spxcekya #outdean #usererinlindslay #angelscas #greatcometcas #deanncastiel #offbeattraxx #lookforanewangle #spncreatorsdaily

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queen-rowenas · 2 years

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he. he thought they were going to die together. he said she’s gonna kill you and then she’s gonna kill me. he thought they were going to die together

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deancaskiss · 2 years

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it happens when cas has dean pressed against the mattress; bodies sweat-slick and gasps huffed out into the small space between them as they move as one. dean’s fingers are pressing trails of heat down cas’ back, and cas has his lips against the pulse-point in dean’s throat. it’s good. so so good that cas doesn’t want this moment to end.

and that’s when the angel radio bursts to life. cas slams his eyes shut, trying to drown out the sound that is now ricocheting inside his head. several angels are speaking at once, led by a rather annoying voice that was currently telling cas to ‘get it’ with a snicker of teasing from the other angels.

“shut up,” cas hisses under his breath, words slipping out before cas could realize he’d uttered the words out loud instead of through the frequency of the angel radio.

“did you just-” dean breaks off with a soft moan. “just tell me to shut up?” he huffs with a hint of humor, legs wrapping around cas’ waist as he pulls the angel closer. “thought you liked it like this.”

“wasn’t talking to you,” cas mutters, fingers gripping tightly against dean’s thighs as he leans in closer.

dean lets out a gasp of pleasure, before he seems to register cas’ words and he lets out a groan in frustration; slumping back against the pillows. “seriously? angel radio, right now?” dean sighs, covering his eyes with his arm. “way to ruin the mood.”

“they were rather loudly and obnoxiously telling me to ‘get it’,” cas says, using finger quotations as he looks down at dean in exasperation.

“seriously?” dean grumbles, pushing himself off of the bed. “can’t believe I have to deal with this. friggin angels,” dean says, picking up his shirt from the floor.

cas slumps down against the mattress in defeat. oh, he was going to kill gabriel and his little gang of angels. dean was right. friggin angels and their angel radio.

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evermoredeancas · 2 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CASTIEL!!

for cas' bee-day celebration hosted by @thenightwemetnatural

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tootiredmotel · 3 years

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happy thirteen years

of ripping up the narrative

and thank you, Castiel

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pointyearedelvishprincling · 1 year

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Destiny & The Destruction Of Fate

For @faithlesshunter happy birthday bestie! <3

Rating: E

Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: endverse, angst with a happy ending, eventual smut, falling in love at the end of the world, slow burn

Read on ao3

#happy birthday MWAH #releasing the other chapters weekly for maximum angst/fun :)#destiel #deancas #endverse #endverse destiel #destiel fics #my writing #datdof #gardenforcas #angelscas #user4x01 #becauseofthebowties #chapeldean #spxcekya #offbeattraxx #mybelovedcas

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myaimistrue · 2 years

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regarding dean!dean and cas- 50

this accidentally became a whole 1.8k fic you can read here or under the cut!

send me a number from this prompt list with a spn pairing or friendship and i’ll write you a drabble!

50. "I think you’re beautiful.”

Cas practically has to shove Rowena and Sam out the door.

“I can handle this,” he tells Sam. “We’ll be fine.”

Sam glances anxiously over Cas’s shoulder at Dean. He’s entirely oblivious to the hushed conversation happening by the motel room door, watching an old episode of Dr. Sexy with rapt attention. “Call if anything changes, alright? Rowena and I should be back soon, but if you don’t hear from us—”

“Sam,” Cas cuts him off, gentle but firm. “I’ll take care of it if it comes to that. But right now, we’re wasting time.”

Behind Sam, Rowena rolls her eyes like she’s above all of this, but she still places an affectionate hand on his arm. “The angel’s right, dearie. We’d best be on our way.”

“Okay,” Sam says. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

Cas shuts the door behind them. He stands there for a moment, facing away from Dean, hand still on the doorknob. This has to work. It has to, because they didn’t survive everything they’ve survived only for Dean to go like this. That can’t happen. It won’t.

Cas allows himself this moment of terrified grief. And then he turns around and approaches Dean.

Apparently, this version of him has none of his usual concerns about personal space. He motions Cas over to sit beside him on the edge of the motel bed, and he smiles brightly when Cas does so—they’re pressed closely together, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee.

“Hi, Cas,” he says.

Cas can’t help but smile. “Hello, Dean.”

“You’re my best friend.” It’s not a question, but Dean seems unsure, like he’s looking for confirmation.

“Yes,” Cas tells him. “I am. And you’re mine.”

“That’s awesome.” Dean says it like he means it, eyes lit up in an almost childlike kind of joy. “Y’know, I don’t think I had a best friend before you.”

That breaks Cas’s heart. He knows it’s true; he knows the story of Dean’s long and lonely childhood, always leaving behind any meaningful connection. Dean should have never been alone like that.

“I didn’t have a best friend before you, either,” Cas says. He figures Dean’s memory loss gives him an excuse to be a little more forthright about his feelings than he usually is. “I didn’t have a family or people to love. You gave me all of that.”

Dean actually blushes, knocks their shoulders together. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.”

They sit in the quiet for a few moments. Cas relishes the sensation of Dean’s body close to his, the warmth of it, and Dean studies the side of his face intently; Cas tries not to indicate he notices. Dean is so intimate like this, so open, and as desperately as Cas wants the real him back, he thinks he’ll miss this.

“Can I tell you something?” Dean says.

“Anything.”

Dean grins, a little bashful and certainly pleased with himself. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Cas’s grace bursts into a million sunbeams. It takes all the self-control he has to prevent himself from knocking out this motel’s power.

“Oh. Oh, um, thank you.” Cas looks away, looks at anything but Dean’s loving expression. “That’s kind.”

“Are you embarrassed?” Dean asks. “You shouldn’t be. You really are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Cas chances a look at him. “But you don’t—you normally don’t say things like that.”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I should. I think you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met.”

Cas desperately tries to compartmentalize his grace’s joyful thrashing. “Dean—”

“Can I kiss you?” Dean glances down at Cas’s lips. He smiles again as he sees Cas notice the movement.

“We shouldn’t,” Cas breathes. He’s leaned in a little. “We shouldn’t, you won’t—when you get your memory back, you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t regret anything,” Dean says decisively. “I love you.”

Cas only has so much restraint. He manages to keep the motel’s power on, but everything electric in the room shorts out. The bulb in the lamp shatters into tiny pieces on the bedside table, and the television that had been playing low in the background goes black.

“Wow.” Dean looks around, amazed. “Did you do that?”

“I…” Cas stands abruptly. “Yes, I should—let me fix this.”

He busies himself with repairing the damage he’s done, his grace still thrumming. His hands are shaking. I love you, Dean said. Dean told Cas he loves him.

“Are you okay?” Dean says as Cas finishes sweeping the glass into a waste bin. “You seem upset.”

“I’m okay.” Cas looks at him—he seems so young, so small, sitting there on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me.”

“What? What did I do?” Dean blinks. “Are you Cas?”

Cas’s heart twists. He leaves the mess, coming back to sit beside Dean. He has to focus. Dean is suffering right now, and Cas isn’t selfish enough to leave him to do so alone.

“I am.” He doesn’t even think before he takes Dean’s hand. “My name is Cas, and yours is Dean. We’re friends.”

Dean searches his face. “Best friends,” he says. “Right?”

Cas laughs softly. “Sorry, you’re right. Best friends.”

“And I love you,” Dean says with relief. “Okay, I think I remember. We’re best friends, and I love you. Wait, and there’s something else about you. Are you magic?”

“No, I’m an angel.” Cas is tempted to argue the love point, but he can’t do it. He’s greedy for Dean’s affections, and as horrible as it is, he’ll take them where he can get them.

“Like, harp and halo angel?”

“I don’t have a harp. Or a halo.”

Dean squints at a point just above Cas’s head. “I don’t know. I could see it.”

The hours pass by much like that, though the time between Dean forgetting everything again gets smaller and smaller. Cas sits with him the entire time, holding his hand and praying to whoever might be listening that Sam and Rowena get back quickly.

As the afternoon sun sinks lower in the sky, and as Dean tries desperately to cling to fleeting memories, he begins to cry. He’s very quiet, the small hitching sobs muffled by the way he curls in on himself.

“I don’t—” he sobs. “What’s happening to me? I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

Cas is powerless to do anything. He rubs a soothing hand up and down Dean’s back.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry, but you have to hold on a little longer. Sam and Rowena will have everything fixed soon, I know it. You just have to hold on.”

Dean shifts in his arms, pressing his face into Cas’s neck. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I know,” Cas squeezes his eyes shut, wills away frustrated, terrified tears. He kisses the top of Dean’s head. “I know.”

It’s not much longer, fortunately, before Sam and Rowena come bursting into the motel room. Cas doesn’t even have the energy to explain their somewhat compromising position, though he sees the way Rowena raises her eyebrows at it.

“Alright,” Rowena says, clapping her hands together. “Dean, darling, let’s get you set to rights.”

Cas carefully extricates himself from Dean, who grasps at his shoulders as he goes. “No, please, don’t go. Don’t, I—”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas says, pulling away with regret. “Rowena is going to fix this. It’s okay.”

“Please—”

But Rowena wastes no time. She casts the spell, and Dean’s eyes fall shut. He glows, a brief, brilliant green. Then it’s over. The three of them watch worriedly as he slowly blinks his eyes open.

“Dean?” Sam says tentatively.

Dean looks up at him. His face breaks into a grin. “Heya, Sammy.”

Sam lets out a tearful laugh and pulls Dean up into one of his bone-crushing hugs. Cas observes carefully for any sign Dean remembers what he said. And when Sam pulls back, Dean meets Cas’s eyes for the briefest of moments. Then he looks away.

Cas tries not to let that hurt. He knew this would happen.

“Excuse me,” he mutters, though no one is listening in their excitement about Dean’s recovery. He slips out the door of the motel room.

Outside, it’s about to storm. The clouds are tinted orange by the sunset happening behind them, and Cas can feel the buzz of brewing lightning. He tips his face up and closes his eyes. He’s aware of his relationship to Dean. He knows that he’ll never have what he wants, he knows that—truly. But today, just for a moment, he thought maybe he was wrong. He thought Dean might be able to accept what Cas wishes he could give him.

By the time the door creaks open, it’s begun to rain tiny, pinprick droplets. Cas enjoys the sensation.

“Cas?” Dean sounds as uncertain as he did a few hours ago.

Cas doesn’t turn to look at him—he doesn’t think he can bear it. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you didn’t mean it.”

A hand settles on his shoulder, and he tenses. “Cas, will you look at me?”

“I can’t.” Cas is ashamed of the way his voice breaks. “Please, don’t make me talk about it anymore. I’m trying—I’m trying to be your friend. Don’t be cruel.”

But Dean is nothing if not stubborn. He comes around to the other side of Cas, forces them to look at each other. There’s a flush high on his cheeks. He seems nervous, but resolved.

“You’re my best friend,” Dean tells him. The rain picks up, but it’s like Dean doesn’t even notice. “Okay? I remember what I said to you, all of it. And I fucking meant it. You’re my best friend. I love you.” And then, a little shyer: “And I think you’re beautiful.”

It’s been a very long, emotionally trying day. Cas can’t help the way he starts to cry.

“Woah.” Dean seems suddenly terrified. “Fuck. Uh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—are you—”

“You mean it?” Cas asks. It’s all he can really say. “You love me?”

Dean softens, all at once. The hand on Cas’s shoulder comes up to cup his face. “I do. I love you. You’re my best friend, Cas, but you’re also… Jesus, you’re the love of my goddamn life.”

Cas leans into his touch, closes his eyes against the tears. His grace, exhausted from the turmoil of the day, flares one final, brilliant time; Dean doesn’t notice, but all the power in the motel goes out.

“I love you, too,” Cas tells him. “I love you.”

And then Dean’s kissing him. It’s wet, mostly because of the rain but also because it seems that they’re both crying now, and it’s clumsy, and it’s wonderful. It’s the best thing Cas has ever done.

“Beautiful,” Dean says when they separate, taking heaving breaths and looking their fill of one another. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Soaked through with rain, grace singing inside him, Cas leans in to kiss Dean again.

#deancas #destiel #fic #12x11 regarding dean #spn #del's writing #offbeattraxx #caskarass #userkels

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angelfishofthelord · 2 years

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“White. Oh, here’s a pink one. And we gotta add some green to make this look like a proper bouquet…” Claire moves around him from side to side. He feels the overlapping petals of gazanias, the sturdier stem of a black-eyed susan, the downy fluff of crabgrass. They fill the space inside his skull, like an empty vase being adorned with offerings.

from my fic for @seraphcastiel birthday celebration

#look i cannot draw to save my life but i can edit #my spn fanfic #my spn edit #usertabitha #userjeb #thisisapaige #feathersforcas #nio-bee-bum #floralnatural #userda #offbeattraxx #userbon

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mjulmjul · 2 years

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falling/fallen

#justcastiel1k #spn #supernatural #castiel #i just think endverse cas and regular cas should've met too #SUCH a missed opportunity the dialogue & tension couldve been so good #endverse cas @ cas: you still see yourself as pure but i know you already want #heymocha #castiellesbian #usertabitha #offbeattraxx #creativecaviar

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shelikestv · 2 years

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Chapter Seven is up!!

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Chapter Summary:

"There were no illusions, no orders. . . just a small moment where he'd made Dean feel important in a world that generally made him feel the opposite.

And it hurt him in the process."

Start From the Beginning

Tagging a few people just in case they're interested :p

#the angel handbook #destiel #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #mybelovedcas #donestiel #spxcekya #outdean #usererinlindslay #angelscas #greatcometcas #deanncastiel #offbeattraxx #lookforanewangle #spncreatorsdaily

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queen-rowenas · 2 years

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ok but listen, i love the thought of sam being completely done with dean and cas’s aggressive honeymoon phase, but what if sam learned to weaponize it against dean?

like they’re in the library and dean is going on about how sam’s hair products are a crime against humanity and his sense of smell, and sam decides that he’s had enough, and he gives cas The Look. and cas, not saying a word, reaches over and takes dean’s hand in his. and dean’s focus immediately zeroes in on cas and his hand, and his entire rant dies

or as they wrap up a hunt, sam spots a store that serves as a local market, but when he brings it up, dean just scoffs like yeah you can go get that hippie stuff on your own time. and sam makes eye contact with cas through the rearview mirror, and cas rolls his eyes before putting his hand on dean’s thigh and bats his eyelashes and says i’d like to go, dean and dean is immediately like yeah of course, babe

what i’m getting at is this: dean is whipped and sam deserves to weaponize it against his brother for a decade of third-wheeling

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deancaskiss · 2 years

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“Whatcha doing, good lookin’?” Dean asked, dropping his chin onto Cas’ shoulder and nuzzling his nose against Cas’ throat.

“Reading,” Cas replied absentmindedly, copying something down onto a scratch sheet of paper before his eyes flickered back to the book on the desk in front of him.

“Maybe you could take a break?” Dean said, breath tickling over the shell of Cas’ ear.

Cas made a vague sound of disapproval. “Busy, Dean.”

Huh. Maybe a different approach. “Too busy to come to bed?” Dean tried again, nipping at Cas’ earlobe.

“M’not tired,” Cas muttered, pencil scratching along the paper as he wrote another note down.

Right. Message received. “Alright. You know where to find me if you want me.” Kissing the top of Cas’ head, Dean made his way back to their room.

He’d barely been in the room for a minute, bending down to blow out one of the candles, when Cas frantically stumbled in.

“Dean, I-” Cas started, but he quickly stuttered to a stop when his eyes darted around the room and he saw the decorations. Soft flickering candles spread out across their bedside tables. The bed sheets covered in red and pink rose petals. A bottle of champagne with two glasses. “Oh, Dean,” Cas breathed out, snagging Dean by the waist and pulling him closer.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, draping his arms loosely around Cas’ shoulders until his fingers grazed the back of Cas’ neck. “Sorry. I just wanted to surprise you. I can put this away and we can wait-”

“Don’t you dare,” Cas cut him off, surging forwards to steal a kiss. “I didn’t know this was what you were planning.”

Dean chuckled, nipping Cas’ lower lip before soothing over it with his tongue. “Is it really so surprising that I want to make love to my husband while we’re celebrating our anniversary?”

Suddenly Cas’ hands were gripping hold of Dean’s shirt, his knees going weak as he chased Dean’s mouth into a breathtaking kiss. “Say that again.”

Smiling against Cas’ lips, Dean replied in a hushed tone. “I want to make love to you.”

Nudging Dean backwards, Cas tugged them both down onto the bed of rose petals. “I’m all yours. Always.”

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