dea-winchester

2

Okay imagine if you will. Dean Winchester bad boy of the school, horrible grades, smokes, one night stands, “straight”, bad ass car, maybe some arm tattoos. Then you have Castiel, A++ all around, “virgin”, nerd, always has random facts then Charlie, Cas’ best friend gets him to go to a party at megs house, and Meg is friends with Dean. So Cas ends up in the corner awkwardly and then Dean fucking Winchester comes around and it like “hey wanna get out of here?” And sweet “innocent” Cas is like blushing and stuttering then nods his head. They get back to deans and of course they’re gonna have sex and Cas just slams him against the door and deans all like “didn’t know you could be dom” and then Cas is like “didn’t know you’d be a sub” and then like Dean has handcuffs and like Cas’ spanks Dean a couple of times, there’s a cock ring involved and just yeah

source: (q)

Yeah, yeah, I know this is a Team Free Will piece of art, but what part of this is not incredible and utterly fabulous?

3

-Anon request (awesome request)

Dea-a-n!” you whined, pawing at his hand which was holding tightly onto the remote. “Come on, I wanna see Titanic!”

“We are not watching Titanic, again!” he told you firmly.

It was a Wednesday night and on Wednesdays you always had a movie night with Dean and Sam- the boys you’d known since you were in pigtails- they were like brothers to you.

Well, one of them was.

“Only because you cried at it the first time!” you shot back, smirking.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “I did no such thing.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you asked him, “Oh really?”

In a second, you were lying held against the couch underneath the hunter, his muscular body pressing yours into the cushions. “Say that again,” he challenged you, a wicked grin settling on his lips.

“Oh, it’s on, Winchester,” you grinned, tackling him upwards and dragging him down again. Play fighting between the two of you wasn’t uncommon, though it only happened when Sam wasn’t there, as was the situation at the moment.

He chuckled lightly before reaching for your waist and pulling you beneath him again and sitting himself on your legs. “You ready to take it back yet, Y/N?” he asked you sweetly.

You narrowed your eyes. “Or what?”

The hunter grinned evily and tickled his fingers lightly against your sides. Immediately you gasped out a surprised giggle. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He smiled again. “Oh, I would.” And with that, he bared your stomach and scrawled his fingers across the sensitive skin there, and soon you were howling with laughter.

Only when you shot up and grabbed his shoulders did he finally stop. “O-o-oh my God,” you gasped, clawing at his back as your laughter died down.

His arms linked behind you, out of a bit, and he chuckled into your neck.

Grinning devilishly, you pulled back slightly and pushed him down under you and leant centimetres away from his face. Your smile dropped, as did his.

Breathing slightly erratically and with your heart beating like it had a time limit, you leant closer and closer until you pressed your lips together. And, oh, it was freaking incredible. Dean reacted almost straight away, cupping your cheek with one hand and carding your hair with the other. His lips moved with yours as though they had been missing your touch since the day they first whispered your name.

Sliding your tongue along his bottom lip, you felt his teeth graze your lip and heat pooled in your abdomen. Leaning back slightly, you looked him in the eye ad whispered, “Dean, is this OK?”

And all he did was gaze back at you, adoration in his eyes, and promise you, “Nothing has ever been more OK.”

5

“Damn it, (y/n), you shouldn’t have done that!”

“What else was I supposed to do, Dean? Kill you? Let you die?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

“What? Why the hell would I do that!?”

“Because your life is more valuable than mine, and now I only have so much time with you, and once you’re gone… I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

It was the innocent, pink flowered dress mixed with your too-sweet demeanor that threw Dean off.  The way you watched him play pool, sipping your drink, biting your lip, drove him crazy.  So when you asked him to play he couldn’t help but say:

“No, I couldn’t take money from a pretty girl like you.”  You’d batted your eyelashes, acting so naive and persistent he finally gave in.  Half way through the game he realized it was an act and he’d been had.  

“You just got played,” Sam laughed, elbowing his brother as you walked away, Dean’s cash still in hand.  You looked over your shoulder, winking as Dean stared after you.  He smirked, holding up the piece of paper you’d slid into his hand.

“You sure?”  He asked.  Sam grabbed the slip of paper, reading off your phone number, the paper’s decorated with a imprint of your lipstick.

Grey to Blue

The light played in Cas’s hair as he sat in the window seal staring out at the bleak morning. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, but he was too far in thought to notice. There was so much to contemplate, like the endless grey outside. What if the sun never pierced through the dreary droplets hanging in the air. What if all they ever had was somber grey? He had always had mixed feelings about a grey cast world. Sometimes he loved the abysmal grey, the way it wrapped around his mind, soliciting quiet solitude…other times he loathed it. The pressing clouds suffocated him, made him feel like a caged bird…today he felt caged.

Dean walked into the living room, coffee mug in hand. He looked at the man, and the way the grey reflected off of, both, his eyes and glasses. He secretly preferred Cas with his glasses, but he tended to keep those thoughts to himself.

“Good morning, Cas,” he murmured as he sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. Cas didn’t look away from the window, he was still very in his thoughts. However, he did reply to Dean.

“Is that what it is, good?” Cas asked in a surly voice. His contemptuous views of the outside world bleeding into his mood. Dean sighed, knowing it was one of those days. He pointed the remote at the T.V.

“Do not turn that on,” Cas said. Dean glanced back at the man, really looking at him. Cas was shirtless, a rare occurrence and never a good sign. When Cas was having one of his bad days, he just sort of…tuned out. Simple things like, meals, clothes, common decency, fell back on his lists of things to do. He simply focused on tolerating the day. These days were bittersweet, more bitter than sweet. Dean set his coffee on the coffee table and went to the brooding fallen angel. He reached around him, ignoring the pulse of electricity the swam through his body when he brushed Cas’s shoulder, to close the blinds

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asked crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Why Seattle?” He asked angrily, “It’s too rainy!”

“Cas, you love the rain,” Dean supplied. Cas glared up at him pouting. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and hummed as he thought, “You wanna move?”

“We just got done unpacking,” Cas complained as if Dean had just told him to get his things together.

“Well if Seattle is too rainy…” Dean began but Cas rolled his eyes and turned his head towards the obscured window, wanting look at anything but Dean. He was sure the man at his side would never quite understand how he felt, “Alright Cas.”

Cas looked up at Dean and found him walking off. He furrowed his brow, suddenly worried that he had angered Dean. He didn’t mean to be this way, to draw into himself…but it felt better than having his neck on the chopping block. Cas craned his head to look down the hall where Dean had disappeared down. Cas rubbed the back of his arms, fingers trailing past raised lines from the scars of his tattoos. He had gotten them a few years back, after drinking a liquor store. They were anatomically correct wings, and he had yet to come to regret the decision. He enjoyed the unique feel of the skin there.

Dean walked back in with Cas’s sketchbook, journal, and his box of pencils. The man smirked at Cas putting the things in his lap. Then he just stood there with a self congratulatory expression. Cas looked down at the things and back up to Dean for some sort of explanation.

“Creative outlet. It’s gonna rain soon, so if we’re trapped inside then you gotta find something to do.” Dean said, licked his bottom lip.

Cas shook his head and set the things to his side, “It’s not that simple. I still…feel them my wings. They’re confined, bound somewhere deep inside of me. I am just finding adjusting fairly difficult. I’m sorry if my feelings displease or dissuade you.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded, eyes wandering over the surface of black inked skin of tattooed wings. Cas looked away from him for a bit not expecting him to say anything, to do what he always does: Carry on with his heart locked up in a jar of nails. Cas just didn’t possess that ability. Days like these pushed him out of his skin, stretched his nerves like strings of a guitar. Dean left again, going down the hallway, but this time Cas didn’t worry about Dean coming back. He figured he wouldn’t.

He wanted to leave this body, he couldn’t live in it. It felt too much, like every nerve ending was hyper sensitive. Every slight push he endured was an earthquake. They were seismic waves at his heart, threatening to take him apart. Days like these he took necessary alterations to his mind. Turning back the dial of emotions, he allowed himself to take this cruel, beautiful world with open arms. Cas just had a hard time. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the window, listening to the rhythmic tapping as his leaning caused the bottom of the blinds to hit the window pane. Things were not as bad as they had once been, he assured himself. They were out of the life, all of it. No more apocalypse, no more death, no more demons…they were “normal.” Cas didn’t know how to do normal. Sam found a nice lady in New York to call his own, Cas got Dean. Which is not to say he was cheated anything whatsoever. Cas considered himself lucky, relentlessly lucky, too lucky. He hardly deserved the happiness he was being gifted, not after all the pain he had caused the soul, living in the small house with him. Familiar warmth avalanched quietly down his face. Ah crying, a relatively new sensation, it happened about as often as he urinated.

Cas’s eyes opened to the first few chords of a guitar. He turned to look at Dean who sat on the couch. Castiel drew his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. The song was vaguely familiar to Cas. Perhaps Dean had played it once before or maybe he heard it on the radio…but it was…comforting. As Dean’s nimble fingers touched the strings with gentle precision, Cas gravitated towards him. Cas always like to watch the faces Dean made when he sung. They were always so peaceful, as if the man who hated himself didn’t exist, as if neither one of them was broken. Dean just made everything okay. He made adjusting to mortality okay, because Cas didn’t really see the point of living without the one you love on the planet. Once you know true love, going back to a world of black and white is unbearable. Dean let him see colors he never existed. They dwelt in the gems of his eyes, the curves of his smiles, or the lines that formed about his eyes when he laughed. Cas was having a hard time, but Dean made it better. He hunted down his ghost, slapped him on his dark side and assured him that today was the best day ever.

He watched Dean’s face as it settled into a soft smile, that painted Cas red. Red with passion, embarrassment, life, Dean painted him red and drew him closer. He leaned towards the man he had been through Lord knows how much crap with and remembered that he was not alone. That on these placid green days and days when he felt pushed down he had to remember, Dean was there. Cas breathed in with Dean and held his breath waiting for the first tone of his voice. It came like the sun from the clouds.

“You can have all of my love

It’s all for you

And if you want, my love

I’ll make grey blue

I love you,” Dean opened his eyes and looked at Cas his eyes demanding attention. They didn’t permit the flustered man to look away or close his eyes. The action was a double edged sword, though and it took a wrong chord to tear Dean’s gaze from Cas. Still, he continued.

“You give me everything

And tenderly

The kiss my angel brings

He brings softly

And I love you,” Cas pulled a pillow from beside him on the couch, clutching it to his stomach as to smother the frantic insects in his stomach. He brought his legs up on the couch and looked intently at Dean, feeling his heart slowly settle back into the cavity of his chest and out of his throat.

“A love like ours

Could never die

As long as I

Have you near me

 

Bright is the sun that shines

Clear is the sky

I know this love of mine

Will never die

And I love you

 

Bright is the sun that shines

Clear is the sky

I know this love of mine

Will never die

And I love you” Dean finished. Cas had closed his eyes letting his boyfriend’s, or perpetual fiance’s, song come to a close. The music hummed in the air like power lines, like the subtle ties that kept them together. Cas rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, taking in a deep breath.

“Thanks, Dean,” he breathed and shivered as Dean lightly brushed his fingertips along his spine, going up and down.

“No problem, Cas.” he answered. They would be okay, in their little house in Seattle, in all of the rain. They would be okay.