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sapphirecobalt-1 · 2 years

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Dean and Cas: The Greatest Love Story Ever Told

by sapphirecobalt

Rating: Teen

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Tags: Post Canon, Fix-It Fic, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Cas’ Time in the Empty, Castiel POV, Star-Crossed Lovers, Dean Winchester Likes Taylor Swift

WC: 7,972

Summary: As Cas goes about his day, he thinks about everything he and Dean have been through and comes to a conclusion.

Excerpt under the cut:

“You alright? You’ve been kinda...off all day.” Dean asked as he pulled their sheets back.

Cas took his time formulating his thoughts as Dean waited patiently, arranging the pillows. “I’ve been thinking and…” Cas hesitated, glancing at Dean, not sure how his boyfriend would take it, but wanting to know what he thinks. “I believe we’re star-crossed lovers.”

Dean’s in the middle of fluffing his pillow when he stops abruptly. “What?”

“Star-crossed lovers. They’re a couple whose relationship, for one reason or another, is ‘doomed’.” Cas ends his sentence with air quotes.

“No, I know what it is, I just mean, why do you think that’s us?”

“Ever since we met in Hell, the forces of Heaven have been trying to keep us away from one another.”

His superiors tried to keep him away from Dean after he rescued his Righteous Man but Cas disobeyed them and saw him anyway. Naomi tried to brainwash him into killing Dean and it almost worked. Hannah and Hael and countless other angels tried to make Cas choose between all of Heaven and Dean, even though he chose Dean every single time. Even Michael from the other world tried to keep them apart.

“Not just Heaven, but the forces of Hell as well.” Dean seemed skeptical and Cas begged him to understand with a wide-eyed look that Dean called his “puppy dog eyes”.

When Heaven asked Dean to torture Alastair it nearly tore them apart before they even begun. Crowley has gotten between him and Dean more times than Cas cares to count. And what of all the demons who tried to kill them, kidnap them, imprison them, kill them or all of the above?

“Other outside forces…” Amara comes to mind. As does the Empty.

Cas watches as several emotions flit across Dean’s face, too fast for Cas to recognize much less name them. In the time it takes Dean to think about what Cas is saying, Miracle walks into their room and Cas closes the door behind him. The large dog jumps on their bed and settles himself down on the foot of it.

Cas’ scowl does not have the intended effect: reminding Miracle he has his own bed sitting a couple feet away.

Cas walks back to bed and gets under the covers. He opens his arms in invitation. It isn’t until Dean’s pillow is sufficiently fluffed, he turns the lights off, covers them with the blankets, and is “spooned” by Cas, comfortable and secure in his boyfriend’s arms that Dean talks in a low voice. “Well, when you put it like that, I gotta say, Cas, you might be onto somethin’.”

“Really?” As much as Cas was hoping Dean would at least try to see things his way, he’s still surprised by his boyfriend’s reaction.

“Yeah, I mean we’ve been through all sorts of crap and we’ve had supernatural beings on all sides try to tear us apart or turn us against each other. I don’t think we’re doomed though. At least, not anymore.”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to try and keep us apart anymore.”

Cas hears the smile in Dean’s voice. “Yeah, otherwise we’ll kick their asses.”

#Destiel #post canon #fix it fic #fanfic #sapphirecobaltwrites #destiel fanfic rec #destiel fanfic

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 3 years

Note

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” destiel, for the prompts! <3

The paint’s supposed to go where?” + Destiel, courtesy of @contemplativepancakes. Thank you so much for your patience <3

Rated M(ish). 2.5k

"The paint's supposed to go where?" Dean asks, shooting Cas a look that's half confused, half incredulous, and half horrified, which is one too many halves but Dean's never been good enough at math to care, especially not when his roommate of several years is staring at him like he’s stupid but doesn’t want to say anything out of misplaced politeness (it’s okay, Cas, Dean knows he’s an idiot, no need to sugar coat it).

Cas scrunches up his brows and it’s clear as day he’s confused about Dean’s confusion. "On...your...body?" He asks more than says, speaking slowly and it's a testament to how well Dean knows his best friend that he understands the meaning behind Cas' words. Is this okay? Are you sure you want to do this?

Dean glances back and forth between Cas and the paintbrush in his hand. “I thought you wanted to paint me?” he asks, uncertainty coloring his tone.

“No, I asked if I could paint on you.” Cas clarifies.

Dean doesn’t know jack shit about art, it’s why he’s a STEM major, but now he’s starting to wonder if he shouldn’t do that either, because really, who in their right mind would trust a person who can’t tell the difference between painting someone and painting on someone with an electrical system? Not Dean, that’s for damn sure.

“You want to...paint on me?” Dean repeats back to him, slowly, and as an added bonus even points to himself as if Cas could possibly be referring to anyone else in the empty studio.

Cas blinks. Then, he nods, patience and exasperation fighting for dominance on his features. In the end, understanding tinged with disappointment wins as he says, “if you’re not comfortable with this, I understand...”

“No,” Dean’s mouth blurts out before his brain has time to process Cas’ comment. “I said I’d help you with your project and I will.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asks hopefully, fidgeting with the paintbrush in his hands.

No. “’Course I am.”

Cas’ face lights up in appreciation and the butterflies in Dean’s stomach flutter up a storm cause they clearly have nothing better to do. Still, the look on Cas’ face when Dean accepts his challenge is enough to put the misunderstanding behind them and let go of his uncertainty.

Until it’s time for Cas to paint on Dean.

When Cas originally asked Dean to help him with his assignment, Dean thought he’d pose for a couple hours and Cas would paint him like a 16th century monarch (never mind that Dean wanted Cas to paint him like one of his French girls). And he was cool with that, hell, he even looked forward to it (spending time with Cas, that is, not holding the same position for who knows how long). Dean even did some stretches and practiced holding various positions for several minutes.

Nothing could have prepared him for Cas scooping up some brown (”it’s not brown, Dean, it’s called ‘Burnt Umber’”, whatever the hell that means) paint on his brush, walking into Dean’s personal space like he owned it (he did, good God he did), and painting broad strokes onto Dean’s pale, freckled chest. Dean shivers the second the cold paint touches his skin and Cas barely gives him time to adjust to the temperature and weird sensation of bristles on his skin before he goes to town painting...whatever the hell he’s painting.

Cas furrows his brows and Dean watches him stick his tongue out in concentration and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“So, uh, this paint safe for people?” Dean asks fighting a shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature of the paint and everything to do with the way Cas gently places his hand on Dean’s waist as he paints jagged lines across Dean’s chest.

Cas pauses to look up at Dean. “Of course.” he answers. “I would never ask this of you if I knew it wasn’t safe.”

Dean distractedly nods his understanding, his attention split between the sparkle in Cas’ clear blue eyes and the unfamiliar yet warm feeling ballooning in his chest. He looks away and forces himself to pay attention to his surroundings, afraid he might say something stupid if he continues staring into Cas’ eyes like that.

As far as college level art classes go, this one’s no different than most. It’s got several easels, canvases, paint brushes, and tubes of paint scattered all over the floor, tables, and open drawers. The sunlight streaming from the three floor-to-ceiling windows light up the room more than the dollar store bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The dark grey walls are littered with murals in various stages of completion: sketched out, drawn, half painted and painted. Dean briefly wonders where the artists are and why they never finished before his eyes land on the creepy skeleton in the far right corner. It doesn’t have eyes, but Dean swears Michaelangel-Bones (as the art students named it for reasons Dean will never understand) stares at him.

Having had his fill of the offending decoration in the corner, Dean turns to face Cas only to frown when he doesn’t immediately spot his friend. Motion captures his attention and he looks down to see Cas, on his knees, in front of Dean, getting some green paint before carefully painting small strokes across Dean’s stomach, one hand on his waist.

Dean’s brain stops working and his heart, doing the exact opposite, pounds so fast he’s surprised it doesn’t beat out of his chest like they do in cartoons. But why would it, when it’s too busy pumping blood down south?

Dean tears his eyes away from the incredibly attractive sight of Cas on his knees and faces Michaelangel-Bones as if the skeleton’s gonna help him keep it in his pants. Although, weirdly enough, thinking about the disturbing skeleton whose not-eyes follow him around the studio actually does help Dean squash down his inappropriate thoughts about his roommate. Just to be on the safe side, he conjures a few very unsexy images (the time he accidentally walked in on his parents doing the horizontal tango, him and Charlie pigging out at the local buffet, stuffing their mouths and making gross faces at one another) all in an effort to get Little Dean under control.

Once his thoughts, feelings, heart, and Little Dean are all under control, he risks glancing down at Cas.

Cas who’s carrying on, painting God-knows-what on Dean’s stomach, casual as can be, completely oblivious to Dean’s internal monologue, seemingly unaffected by being practically face-to-face with Little Dean. He’s staring at Dean’s pudgy stomach with the same intensity as earlier when he was painting Dean’s chest.

All of Dean’s hard (heh) work making sure Little Dean behaves himself almost goes out the window when he notices Cas is sticking his tongue out a little in concentration and Dean wishes he was using his tongue for something else.

Dean berates himself for going down that road before thinking unsexy thoughts again, Don’t think about that, think about the time we didn’t realize Miracle was a girl until she had puppies. He better get his thoughts about Cas under control before he runs out of unsexy thoughts and Cas ends up coming face-to-face with Dean’s feelings for him. The last thing Dean wants is to make things awkward between them by being forced to admit he’s been in love with his best friend for years because said friend notices his boner.

"Done with the front," Cas chimes in. Thank God, Dean thinks, the torture is over. Dean's heart rate begins to slow down a bit and his thoughts settle. He relaxes.

That is, until Cas says, "Now it's time for the back," his voice a bit deeper than usual, giving Dean a nervous yet appreciative smile and Dean's heartbeat spikes all over again.

He returns Cas' smile, hoping he doesn't look as nervous as his friend did while trying not to let his mind run wild with possible explanations for Cas' nervousness.

Instead, Dean focuses on Cas and his friend walks around him, deliberately not facing Dean, squeezes out some light blue and some yellow paint onto his clear, paint-covered pallet, cleans his current brush and gets a new one.

Dean clears his throat. "So, uh, whatcha workin' on?" He asks in an effort to distract himself, fidgeting with the hem of his jeans. It's not that he's not interested in what Cas is doing, whatever it is he's doing, it's just that he really needs a distraction from the heat of Cas' hand on his waist.

"I'm painting a tree on your chest and the rest of the garden on your back." Cas responds just as his brush begins to paint long, broad strokes across his tailbone.

Dean shivers from the touch which only makes Cas squeeze his waist and now Dean's shuddering for a completely different reason.

"Dean, I need you to stay still, please." Cas reminds him, stern but not unkindly, pausing his process while Dean gets himself under control.

"Sorry." Dean replies. Once Dean is still, Cas continues painting across his back. It tickles a little as the bristles leave trails of cold, wet, and slightly slimy paint over his muscles.

Dean feels more than sees Cas’ precise brushing motions, feels Cas’ hot breath heat up the goosebumps adorning his skin and his breath hitches.

Cas stops painting.

Dean looks over his shoulder to find Cas already staring at him. He meets Cas’ gaze and swallows. “Everything alright, Cas?” Dean speaks softly into the space between them, which, Dean notices, isn’t much.

“Dean, I...” Cas trails off.

This close, Dean can see his friend’s dilated pupils and he’s certain his are, too. “Yeah, Cas?” Dean asks softly and tentatively, worried that if he speaks too loudly it’ll ruin the moment between them, pop it like a bubble. He swallows again, somewhere in the back of his mind wondering when his mouth got so dry.

Cas responds by leaning into Dean’s space and all his thoughts about his feelings for his roommate ruining their friendship fly out the window as Cas lightly rakes his nails up Dean’s side, over his shoulder blade, and down his arm.

Dean shudders in response, loving the feel of Cas’ hand on his body, although he wishes the guy would put both hands on him.

Cas’ hand slides down his Dean’s arm slowly, as if afraid going any faster might scare Dean off.

Once Dean feels Cas’ hand in his own, he intertwines their fingers and squeezes his hand as if to say I’m not going anywhere.

The soft look in Cas’s eyes becomes so intense, Dean’s surprised his pupils aren’t heart-shaped like in cartoons. Nevertheless, he returns Cas’ heart eyes and he swears he stops breathing and his heart stops beating in his chest as the world around them disappears.

No more sunlight streaming through the windows, no more Michael Angel-bones staring creepily at Dean, no more cold, wet paint drying slowly on his skin; only him and Cas and the small space between them that keeps getting smaller and smaller until their lips brush.

He distantly hears Cas’ paintbrush clatter as it falls on the floor but Cas runs his now empty hand through Dean’s hair and nothing else matters except closing the all but nonexistent space between them.

He’s not sure who moves first, only that one second there is a space between them and the next second Cas’ chapped, pillow-y lips are on his.

The angle is awkward and hurts Dean’s neck but it’s worth it because the kiss is sweet and gentle and everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

They part only when they run out of breath and Dean rests his forehead on Cas’. They keep their eyes closed a little while longer, still a bit dazed from their kiss.

After a few moments, Dean slowly turns around. He opens his eyes and takes in the sight of Cas' unruly hair, heart eyes, the tiny blush coloring his cheeks, and his spit-slicked lips. Gazing into Cas' eyes, Dean finally understands what that funny yet warm feeling ballooning in his chest is.

Love.

"I love you," Dean blurts out, his mouth moving faster than his brain can keep up. He looks down at Cas' shirt collar, unable to meet his gaze, afraid of what he might see.

"I love you, too," Dean looks up at Cas' wavering tone. Cas' eyes are watery and Dean wipes the single tear streaming down his face.

"You - you do?" Dean whispers in disbelief. Somebody pinch him because he must be dreaming if his hot best friend actually reciprocates. "L-love me? Like, love me, love me?" Dean clarifies. It's stupid and he's well aware it is but he has to know, he has to make sure Cas doesn't mean it in the friend way.

"Yes, Dean," Cas answers in a steadier voice with a chuckle and Dean's heart soars. "I love you, love you."

Dean wraps his arms around Cas' neck and pulls him in for a desperate kiss.

Cas must have been expecting it because he wastes no time wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and giving as good as he’s getting.

They make out for several minutes, only pausing to breathe, letting their lips do all the talking, their kisses saying everything they've never dared speak out loud.

Eventually, Cas breaks the kiss and Dean whimpers at the loss of contact. As they separate, Cas’ shirt peels off of Dean’s chest, which feels really tacky. Dean and Cas wear matching grimaces as they take in the paint on Cas’ shirt. It’s the mirror image of the tree and grass painted on Dean’s chest except the edges are smeared making it look like a blurry photograph.

Dean stares at Cas’ shirt a little longer before the realization that he ruined Cas’ painting hits him. The color drains from his face as he looks at Cas with wide eyes. “Your painting, Cas, man, I am so sorry —”

Cas meets his look and his grimace gives way to a small smile and he lifts one shoulder in a shrug, as if to say what can you do? “Dean,” he interrupts, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I ruined your —” Dean tries.

“Dean, it’s alright.” He reassures. “You didn’t ruin anything.” A pause. “And if I recall correctly —” he smirks as his cheeks fill with a rosy pink color, “— I am equally to blame for ruining my project.”

Dean glances at Cas’ discarded paintbrush on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck at the memory of them making out moments ago. “Still…” Unconvinced and a bit guilty despite Cas’ reassurance, Dean prompts.

“Besides,” Cas grabs his hands. “I have more important things to do.” Cas gives him a very heated and suggestive look. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Dean swallows, hard, and nods a response, speechless at Cas’ words. He’s never really seen this side of his roommate and best friend but he is not complaining and plans on taking full advantage of this newfound discovery.

And in the middle of the day, in the middle of the art classroom, he does just that, Cas’ painting long forgotten in favor of doing another kind of project.

#sapphirecobaltwrites #Destiel fanfic #inbox asks #fanfiction prompts #college au #asks: contemplative pancakes #artist cas #model dean

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 3 years

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Title: My Favorite Flavor

Rating: Teen

WC: 8,519

Characters: Dean Winchester, Claire Novak, Castiel

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Castiel & Claire Novak

Warnings: None apply

Tags: Trans!Dean (ftm), Non binary!Cas, Castiel is Claire Novak’s parent, Meet Cute, Fluff, Openly Bi Dean, Openly Gay Castiel, Ice Cream

Notes: This fic is based on a prompt. Excerpt under the cut.

Summary:

Life rarely goes as planned.

Case in point: Castiel. They walk into Baskin Robbins to pick Claire up from work, but they end up with more than they bargained for. What he gets is: a sassy teenage daughter, a near homicide experience, and the attention of a handsome stranger, but will he ever get his ice cream?

Dean stares at Castiel. Really stares at them, so much so that Castiel begins to squirm in their seat, but they maintain eye contact; they stare back. In the back of his mind, he wonders if this was what other people feel like when Castiel stares at them, but that can’t be right.

When other people, namely his ex-wife, daughter, and older brother, tell him to cut it out, Castiel they always describe his staring as “creepy” and “uncomfortable”; but this, looking into Dean’s eyes, it’s neither “creepy” nor “uncomfortable”. It feels — for lack of a better term — intimate. Castiel feels seen and understood as if Dean were staring into Castiel’s very soul and it stared at Dean’s right back. It’s after this particular revelation Castiel realizes they got lost staring into the greenest and most beautiful eyes they’d ever seen.

#sapphirecobaltwrites #Destiel fanfic #destiel fluff #trans dean winchester #non binary cas

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 3 years

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Written for @profoundnet PB100 Challenge. Prompt: Throne.

“...I now declare you husbands!”

The entire kingdom erupted into thunderous cheer as Dean and Castiel pulled each other close and kissed.

Castiel and Dean faced Sam and kneeled where they stood. They swore to uphold the laws of the kingdom; they swore to protect and serve the kingdom’s citizens. Sam placed the crown on Dean’s head first, then Castiel’s.

“Kingdom of Lawrence, I am honored to introduce King Dean Winchester and King Castiel Winchester!”

Once again, the ballroom erupted into a deafening roar of celebration.

Fingers interlocked, King Dean and King Castiel took their place on the ornate thrones.

#PB100 #profoundnet #Destiel #sapphirecobaltwrites

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 3 years

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Written for @profoundnet PB100 Challenge. Prompt: Throne.

(CW: mention of bodily fluids)

Dean ran to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, Dean felt so much better.

He knew he shouldn’t have had all that junk food, but he couldn’t help himself. It took Dean a few seconds to realize he was sitting on the thoroughly used toilet drooling over food in a bathroom which smelled like a Port-a-potty. He reached for the toilet paper.

Except there was no toilet paper.

“CAS!” Dean bellowed.

Dean waited a while, wondering why his boyfriend wasn’t responding.

“CASTIEL!” He screamed.

Then it hit him: he just yelled at his deaf boyfriend to bring him toilet paper.

Shit.

#PB100 #profoundnet #sapphirecobaltwrites #Destiel

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 4 years

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Written for @profoundnet PB100 Challenge. Prompt: Handcuffs.

Ever since Dean woke up a few moments ago he’s been trying to escape.

Sitting on a bare mattress and handcuffed to the bed’s iron bars, Dean struggles to remove the cuffs with his skull splitting headache. Disoriented and dizzy, heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through his veins, he tugs; the pain he feels when the cuffs dig into his skin not only keeps him awake but also reminds him of his goal.

I have to leave I have to get out of here, who knows when he'll be back I have to-

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean freezes up.

Too late.

#profoundnet #pb100 #Destiel #sapphirecobaltwrites #handcuffs

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 4 years

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When Dean Wants Attention

A drabble written by sapphirecobalt

Rating: Teen & Up, WC: 504

ao3 version

Sam

Sam was pouring over one of the bunker's ancient tomes when it happened.

See, sometime during his life, Sam developed a sixth sense for when Dean did something stupid. So when Sam gets that funny feeling in his stomach, he knows Dean is doing something he shouldn't.

A combination of intuition and past experience leads Sam into his room where he turns the TV on and switches to the news channel.

As the story breaks and pictures flash on the screen, Sam's face goes from confusion to dawning realization to horror to anger and annoyance.

Sam crosses an arm and uses his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Earlier that day

Dean

Cas wasn't responding to any of his calls. And everytime he prayed to Cas, the angel told him he was busy and would see him soon.

But "soon" wasn’t soon enough. So Dean decided a different kind of message was in order.

Dean went to a large, empty field in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere, Kansas. With some necessary supplies in hand, he got to work. When all was said and done, he grinned right before lighting a match and tossing it several feet in front of him. The intended target caught fire all at once with an audible woosh. Dean took comfort in the beautiful sound of the cracking fire, loving that he could stand this close and not feel the heat, knowing he would finally get what he wanted: Cas' attention.

In Heaven

Cas

Heaven's monthly meetings were an absolute waste of precious time and the most boring thing Cas had ever done, including the time he watched paint dry (in his defense, it had just been invented). However, they were a necessary evil. Cas made a deal with the powers that be: Heaven will let Cas keep his pet demon boyfriend and all Cas has to do is go to a few meetings.

Despite knowing it was worth it, Cas couldn't deny it got increasingly harder to remember why he was doing this when Zachariah went on and on about....whatever it was he was talking about; Cas doesn’t know, seeing as he tuned out the other angel right before falling asleep with his head perched on one hand. It didn't help that said boyfriend kept sending him dirty prayers during the meeting, demanding Cas give him attention. Lucky for Cas, Dean stopped after Cas reprimanded him.

Or so he thought.

Angels don't need sleep, but when a commotion to his right startled him, he woke up dazed and confused. A large group of angels surround the large, floor to ceiling windows, chattering. Cas walked over to the window to see what's going on.

When he looked out the window his eyes widened in horror at the sight before him.

Dean has really done it now, he thinks.

In a large field in the middle of Kansas, there's a sentence burned into earth with carefully placed tree trunks.

NICE ASS, CASTIEL. BRING IT HOME.

#sapphirecobaltwrites #deancas drabble #Destiel fanfic #sam winchester is so done

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 4 years

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Party Hat

A drabble written by sapphirecobalt.

Rating: Teen & Up, WC: 404

ao3 version

"What the fuck?!"

Dean woke to a pounding, head splitting migraine, courtesy of those extra shots of blow job's from the previous night. Prying his eyes open, Dean winces at the light; he keeps them closed.

When he finally speaks, "Shuddup, Sam," he notices just how dry his mouth is (think, Sahara Desert).

"What the hell happened?"

Dean risks opening his eyes again, a risk which pays off once he adjusts, and gives a perfunctory glance around the room. Several (presumably empty) bottles of beer, vodka, tequila and whipped cream are scattered around the room. From his spot on the couch, he can see several of his and Cas' friends passed out drunk. Most on the floor, a couple on the table, and a few on the other couch.

A soft snore from below draws Dean's attention. He looks down and notices three things: 1) He's naked (not unusual, this is his boyfriend's house, after all), 2) said boyfriend, Cas, is conked out and drooling on his stomach (again, not unusual) and 3) there's a blue-and-white striped party hat on his dick (unusual).

He looks up at his younger brother, frowning, as if Sam, who wasn't allowed to go to the party since he's not old enough, would have any idea of what's going on.

That's when Dean belatedly remembers Sam asked him a question. "Cas' 21st birthday, 'member?"

Sam looked at Dean, looked around the room, looked back at Dean, gaping before letting out a frustrated huff and storming out of Cas' place, slamming the door in the process.

The sound of the slamming door only made his hangover worse and Dean held a hand to his head.

He wasn't the only one affected, if the groans from some of his friends and Cas’ grumbling were anything to go by. Cas lifted his head, slowly.

"What....happened?"

Cas' face is red, covered in his own drool, and his hair is going in all sorts of directions and Dean can't help but smile and feel the emotions stirring in his chest at the sight of Cas' confused head tilt.

When Cas' glance around the room ended with him staring at the party hat on Dean's dick, Cas mumbled, "Dean, why's there a party hat on your dick?"

And what else could Dean do but give the birthday boy the sleepiest, most uncoordinated flirty wink imaginable and respond with, "There's a party in my pants."

#sapphirecobaltwrites #destiel fanfic #destiel #humor #destielfluff

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sapphirecobalt-1 · 4 years

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1969

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: hippie!Castiel, Witch!Rowena, brief mention of orgies, no actual smut, Endverse Cas is a Hippie, Magic, Alternate Universe, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Alternate Universe-1969, Past Lives, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Reincarnation, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Castiel goes by a different name, Castiel goes by a nickname, Castiel goes by Angel Eyes, Angel Eyes - Freeform, One Shot, POV alternate, POV Floating, Castiel Behaves Like Endverse Castiel

Relationships: Destiel, Dean Winchester/Castiel

Characters: Castiel, Rowena, Dean Winchester (mentioned, I'm sorry😭)

Summary: Prompt: With every reincarnation, people lose their memories of their past lives, Person A has suddenly remembered over a thousand years of reincarnations and they find that they've loved the same person in everyone.

Excerpt:

"Drink this. I promise it'll help you remember."

He looked deep into her eyes, hoping to catch her in a lie, but all he found was sincerity.

Without breaking eye contact, he drank the liquid in one gulp.

It tasted better than it looked, like lavender and blueberries, and it did look good, he had to give her credit for that at least. He couldn't give her credit for anything else because nothing happened.

Rowena's expression changed: it went from her customary I-know-something-you-don't smile to something softer and sympathetic.

"This might-" the rest of her sentence was cut off as Angel Eyes' screamed.

He doubled over in pain, forehead touching his knees, feeling like his skull was cracking open in two.

His brain pulsed, sending another wave of pain, making him sit up, bending over the back of his chair. His heart pounded in his chest. Hands in his hair, he resisted the urge to pull but he felt the sweat. He heard himself cry in agony but it sounded distant.

Later on, he would figure out that the pain he felt wasn't because of the drink or even remembering his past lives; the pain came from everything he endured during his previous incarnations.

Every tear of joy, every ounce of pain, every fist clenched in anger, every laugh that took his breath away from every incarnation he lived as, from every person he used to be filled his mind.

He had flashbacks of his previous lives I no particular order: an angry blond man yelling at him, a dark-haired petite woman in bed with a man he recognized as his past self and another man with green eyes, a dark-skinned woman with the exact same green as the previous man laughing soundlessly, a version of him being chased down a cobblestone street, Rowena telling him to run. Run where?

All of these images flashed in his mind along with every emotion attached to those memories, his memories, and all he could do was writhe around in pain.

#destieltrash #destielflirting #destielfluff #destielfanfiction #destiel #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #fanfictionrec #fanficrec #fanfictionauthor #sapphirecobaltwrites #deancasfanfic #deancasfic #deancas #dean winchester #castiel

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