this could be cas from


Whiteboard. Destiel, canon!verse, 1.3k. 
When you fail to say the words, there’s always the option to write it down.

For a while now, there has been a whiteboard in Dean’s room.

Cas often sees Dean use it; to organize clues for cases that he and Sam can’t quite solve, and to write down reminders, or to simply rearrange his thoughts. And, on rare occasions, to draw silly doodles to help him get his mind off of whatever supernatural disaster is next on the agenda.

Currently, aforementioned board is empty though, and Cas stares a hole in it, sitting on Dean’s bed, arms wrapped around his knees, his chin resting on his hands. Dean is there too, right beside him, lying on the other side of the bed, his back to Castiel, his shoulders tense. There might as well be some sort of invisible wall between them, and Cas absolutely hates it. Hates it whenever they fight like this, and what makes it even worse is that Dean refuses to talk. Whenever they have an argument he’ll snap at Castiel, once maybe twice, but after that, it’s usually the silent treatment.

And it makes Castiel feel powerless every time, because how can you fix something when you don’t even get a chance to plead your case?

Dean isn’t sleeping, Cas can tell from his breathing, harsh and uneven. Which must mean that Dean doesn’t like this either, and just like that, inspiration strikes.

“Dean?” Cas mutters quietly, but not unkindly.

A grunt from the other side of the bed.

“I know you’re angry, I know you’d rather not talk, but I thought that maybe…” Castiel pauses, trying to figure out which words to choose. “I thought that maybe we could write it down.”

There’s a huff from Dean, and Cas doesn’t know what to make of that, but he refuses to give up now. Slowly, he gets up from the bed, shuffling towards the whiteboard. He picks up one of the markers, a blue one, and starts writing.

He hears Dean move on the bed, probably getting up as well, and that’s what Cas had been counting on; Dean’s curiosity getting the best of him.

When Cas is done he puts down the marker, his eyes scanning the message one last time.

‘I apologize for what I did yesterday, I’m sorry I went after those rogue angels by myself without telling you. I didn’t want you to get dragged into my problems, and I feared it wasn’t safe for you to come with me. Which you would have, had I told you before I left.’

He hears a muffled sigh behind him, and he’s surprised to see Dean already standing right there. Dean rolls his eyes as he reads the message, but his face relaxes, and the green of his eyes is softer now. After a long moment, he theatrically picks up a marker as well, the green one, giving Castiel that face that says 'do we really have to do this?’

But Dean does it anyway, and writes a reply, the Dean Winchester way that Cas knows so well.

'I want you to drag me into your problems, you idiot, it’s not like I don’t drag you into mine. PS: you forgot to apologize for the part where you almost got killed. PPS: fine, apology accepted. Don’t ever do that again.’

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So, because of a promo pics where we see Kelly and CAS sitting in front of each other , in a bedroom

And kelly smiling at Cas

Some people are convinced they are gonna hook up?

But Dean and Cas are just friends.

Ok !!!!!

Dean still sometimes has nightmares.  

He doesn’t have nearly so many since he’s eased into this cozy, domestic era of his hunting career, where “big bads” are predominantly a thing of the past and the most he has to worry about us the occasional wendigo, but he still has them. 

They used to be of hell, of flesh being flayed from his body with razor-sharp cleavers and limbs being ripped from their sockets, but the more time passed, the more hell in and of itself seemed like a very lucid, very horrible dream.  It didn’t seem possible anymore that those things could have happened to him, tortures beyond torture, desecration to his very soul, though of course, he knew they had.

These days, what he dreams about most is Cas.

So many times he’d thought he was gone for good.  So many times he’d knelt over his body, cupped his cold face in his hands, watched him explode before his very eyes, and each time it felt as though Dean’s soul had been hollowed out with a spoon.

There’d been a time when he could have lived without Cas, but now, that time seems like a distant memory.

He rarely remembers the dreams in detail:  just disjointed flashes of things that had been, of sudden explosions of blood, of black goo oozing from every orifice. 

Tonight it was the white light of his true form pouring from his eyes and mouth, terrifying and other worldly and final.  It was his limp body collapsing on the ground, wings emblazoned on either side, like a confirmation stamp of his demise. 

It was pure dread filling Dean’s heart, painful as though his very blood had turned to slushy ice, welling up and spilling over until he couldn’t help but start to cry.  

As always, he awoke to warm, gentle hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently.

“Dean.  Dean!  Wake up, it’s alright.  It’s only a dream.” 

Dean’s still crying, the feeling of hollowness lingering as he instinctively moves closer to the warm body beside him, letting strong arms wrap around him and pull him close. 

“You are dreaming, Dean.  It’s alright, Dean.  You’re alright.” 

“Thought I…lost you again,” Dean sobs into the soft cotton of his undershirt.  “…Thought I lost you.” 

There’s a brief pause, and then,  “…I know, Dean.” Lips press a soft kiss to the top of his head, a gentle confirmation of his presence.  “It’s alright, I’m here.  I’ll always be here.” 

Dean wants so desperately for it to be true.  For now, he just lets himself lie there, pathetic and sobbing and shivering, fingers knotted in the cotton tee shirt as though he alone could keep Cas from leaving him again.

Finally, Dean recovers somewhat.  His breathing slows enough for Cas to inquire, “Are you alright now, Dean?”

Dean pauses, then hesitantly nods his head.  “More’r less,” he mutters, clearing his throat, as though attempting to regain some composure.  

“I’m glad.” 

There’s a brief pause, before Dean punches Castiel in the arm.  

“Ouch,” says Cas, out of politeness.  He really doesn’t feel that sort of pain.  “Was there some particular reason for that, Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, snuggling closer to the warmth of his chest.  “You gotta stop dying so damn much.  You’re gonna make me old before my time.”

In spite of himself, Cas smiles, pressing another kiss to the top of Dean’s head.

“I know, Dean.  I know.”   

Can I Boop Your Nose?

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,539

Warnings: being crazy? Dean being roofied haha

A/N: This is for @impalaimagining’s 2k celebration challenge!!! My word that I picked was ‘Crazed’…I hope that all of you enjoy this! Feedback is greatly appreciated!! :D (*Unbeta’d so any and all mistakes are mine! aka it might be total shit lol)

Dean never thought you’d ever go behind his back like you had a few nights ago. Here he was sitting in a chair, in the mental hospital, in the same room Sam was occupying but now it housed you instead. Dean watched as you sat on the bed, picking up imaginary flowers around you and then proceeded to hand them over to him. Cas told him that you would and have been reacting differently than Sam had. You still see Lucifer here and there, he bothers you at night and whispers lies in your ear. Other than that, it’s almost like your mind is this innocent psychotic child.  

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Back to the Future: Part 1

Summary: Imagine getting sent to the future and making love with future Cas. Imagine coming back home and finding out you’re pregnant.

Pairing: Cas x reader

Word Count: 3.5k (YAY ME)

Warnings: brief descriptions of smut, language, angst, pregnancy, a cliffhanger ending bc im an asshole

A/N: so regular Dean is just called Dean and future Dean is called future Dean BC LOGIC IS AWESOME hahaha.

also, welcome to a new series, my friends! should be a wild n fun time :-) feedback is so greatly appreciated!

Originally posted by savingpeoplegiffingthings

You blinked slowly, your eyes squinting open as you took in your new surroundings. It looked like you were in some kind of…shack?

With a groan, you tried to sit up, and that’s when you realized that your hands were cuffed to a chair. You turned to your left and saw Dean in the same exact situation as you, and you knew this wasn’t looking too good.

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Make a Date of It

Dean knew he’d never be with Cas. 

It was just too complicated.  Yeah, the younger hunting community did seem significantly more progressive than John’s old buddies, throwing around f slurs and laughing over beers, but Dean was in his thirties.  His late thirties.  

No one came out at this age, and if he did, he was sure they would think he was faking, having some bizarre mid-life sexual crisis or trying to get attention.  Moreover, he was a legend among hunters:  he didn’t want his going both ways to become the talk of the town, their variation of celebrity gossip, even if it wasn’t in a completely negative context.  

So he could never be with Cas.  It just wasn’t practical.  

Still, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of longing as he watched Cas stitch up his trench coat, delicate fans of dark eyelashes over soft, tired bags and prominent cheekbones, stubble sprinkling his jaw.

Man, it would be great if Cas was human.  If Dean was just a normal guy who’d met him in a park or a grocery store, who could have worked out his sexuality in his teens or twenties like any normal fence-sitter, instead of worrying about his brother’s life or the damn apocalypse. 

Or even if it wasn’t, even if things were just as they were now, Dean couldn’t help but think how amazing it would be to hold him in his arms late at night while he slept, press his nose to that dark mess of hair and breath in the soapy smell of shampoo.  Maybe start to see a grey hair or two.

That was another pleasant thought:  Cas going grey, Cas the silver fox.  He’d always had a thing for mature guys, though he’d absolutely never admit it, and he was surprised to find the idea of getting old together with Cas a pleasant one.

But then, he’d blown his chance to have human Cas, hadn’t he?  Cas had been human once, been ready to settle down in the bunker for good, and Dean had kicked him to the curb.  He’d spent every day regretting it.

“Dean, are you okay?”

Dean blinked, remembering Sam was there.  He was sitting perpendicular to Dean at the long wooden table, open laptop and book of lore in front of him, looking at Dean with concerned, puppyish eyes.  

Even Cas paused in his mending the wounded sleeve, looking up to see what this latest drama could be.   

Dean cleared his throat.  “’Course I’m okay.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged.  “You’ve just been sort of spacing out for a really long time.  You looked kind of upset.”

“Bullshit,” Dean scoffed, a tad defensively.  “M’not upset.”

“I noticed, too,” Cas pointed out.  “But it’s been a rudimentary aspect of his personality since I’ve known him, so I generally elect to ignore it.”  There was a brief pause as Dean mustered a glower.  “If you’d like, I could read his mind…?”

No!”  Dean cried, horrified by the suggestion.  

Sam ran a palm over his face, clearly trying not to laugh.  Sadistic bastard.  “It’s fine, Cas.  I’m sure Dean is just…distracted.” 

Cas nodded hesitantly.  “Very well.  Let me know if this changes, Dean:  I should very much like to help.”

“Yeah, don’t count on it,” Dean muttered, pretending to go back to his laptop.  

God, Cas was a sweetheart.  Oblivious, but a sweetheart.  Dean could see now that all he’d ever wanted to do was help.  To help Dean.

So many missed opportunities, over the years they’d known each other.  So many times he’d noticed that mouth, full and chapped and supple, when he could have closed the gap between them and let the warmth consume him.  So many times he could have said something, anything, to convey to Cas how he felt. 

Dean froze suddenly as a realization dawned on him then:  if he could look back on moments five years ago that he could have told Cas how he felt but didn’t, five years from now, would he feel the same way?  Would he still be hooking up with the same sexually frustrated housewives that liked to boss him around the way he craved, or odd bull named Larry, only to come home feeling empty and full of regret?  Would he still be watching Cas from afar and wishing he’d said something, anything, to convey that he loved him as more than a friend?  To convey that he loved him at all? 

It’s too late, said that nagging little voice in his head.  Too complicated.  He isn’t even your species!  

Dean realized he didn’t care.  He’d spent his whole life watching people wait for some idyllic scenario to come along to show their loved ones how they felt:  John promising he’d give his boys the life they deserved after he got his precious revenge, Mary studiously avoiding them until she could mold their lives into what she’d envisioned for them over thirty years prior.  

Dean wasn’t going to repeat their mistakes.  He couldn’t.

Think of the hunters!  the voice persisted.  Do you really want them knowing you like guys? 

Dean scoffed inwardly.  At the end of the day, who fucking cares?  He’d met gay hunters before.  One of them was a goddamn witch.  The hunting community had changed a lot since he’d last been involved.

And yeah, he was sure there was still some homophobia lurking, but was he really gonna let that stop him?  Besides:  there might be some young hunter kid scared to come out of the closet, who might be inspired to if he knew Dean Winchester was bi.  

Dean could have really used someone like that when he was younger.

“Cas, do you wanna go get burgers?” 

Dean blurted the phrase out without thinking, causing both Sam and Cas looking up in surprise.  

Dean swallowed, suddenly feeling very awkward as silence hung thick in the air.  

“I mean…just if you want to, that is,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously as he felt his ears grow hot.

Cas blinked.  “Certainly.  You know I love burgers, Dean.”

Dean stared at him, then chuckled awkwardly, not really processing that he’d just said yes.  “Yeah, that’s, uh.  Kinda why I asked.”

There was a long silence before Cas offered, “Shall we go now, or…?” 

Dean blinked, still in a haze as he registered the question.  “No no.  I mean, uh.  We can if you want to, but I was kinda thinking we could go tomorrow night.”  He swallowed, palm rubbing over his trachea.  “Y’know.  Make a date of it.” 

Dean chuckled awkwardly again as Cas’s eyes widened, expression unreadable.  He was peripherally aware of Sam’s comically baffled facial expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.  He looked as though if you poked him with your finger, he would fall over. 

Finally, Cas said quietly.  “I would love that, Dean.”

“…Great.”  Dean cleared his throat, nodding slowly.  A nervous smile spread over his face.  “Great!  Uh, tomorrow at eight, then?”

“That would be wonderful, Dean.”  

Dean had to resist the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.  Everything about this was incredible.  The fact that he’d just asked Cas out on a date.  The fact that he’d said ‘yes.’  The way Cas said his name. 

Dean.  Dean.  Dean.  

Dean thought he could listen to that voice say his name forever and never get tired of it.

He and Cas sat there in mutually baffled silence for a moment or two longer, before Sam’s exhausted, relieved sigh broke the spell.

“Fucking finally.

“Where do dead angels go?” Dean asks.

He finds himself sitting at some park watching the setting sun. Castiel is beside him, the angel squints at his question.

“This is a dream.” Dean says before Cas could answer.


“Figures. So what are you, a figment from my subconscious guilt-tripping me?” Castiel sighs at this.


“Tell me Cas, where do dead angels go?”


“Because I want to know. I want to know why you’re here in my head every damn time I sleep, and not in the real world. I want to know where because I want to yank your ass out of that place and back here with me… and Sam.”

A shuffle. Castiel moves to face him, places a hand on his shoulder.  

“I don’t know where dead angels go. But me…”

Castiel’s hand glides from his shoulder to his heart.

“I’m here Dean.”

The hand rises to cup his cheek then slowly pulls their faces closer.

“I’m always here.” Castiel mutters just before their lips meet.

Dean wakes up.

“Morning, sunshine.” He mutters to no one in particular.

still sad about it but story-wise it’s kinda cool that both Crowley and Cas died the same way they killed Meg and Billie respectively - Meg essentially sacrificing herself so Sam could get Dean and Cas out of there, and Billie being suddenly stabbed from behind out of nowhere. divine retribution for past transgressions. 

You’re not Hypothermic

Summary: Cas finds you after you were hurt on a hunt. You’re too cold to go look for Sam and Dean, so Cas…warms you up. 

I shouldn’t write summaries lmao

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1.6k

Originally posted by subcas

Dizzy, nauseas, blood, ouch, so much blood, was all you could think as you peeled yourself up off the floor. You’d collapsed after slicing off the last vampire’s head, and apparently, no one had found you yet. You felt your pockets for your phone, which was nowhere to be found.

Dammit, you thought. You were gonna die here. You’d lost so much blood from that vampire attacking you. You made your way to a dirty old couch in the abandoned house you were in and waited. There was no way you could leave here on your own. Thirty minutes must’ve went by, and still no sign of Sam Dean, or Cas.

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Back to the Future: Part 7

Pairing: Castiel x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, porn gifs, oral (female receiving), angst, blood, injury, pregnancy, fluff (a little bit of everything, eh?)

~porn gifs from my blog fuckablecas ahead, my friends~

Back to the Future Masterlist


With a snap of Zachariah’s fingers and a wave of nausea from the sudden jump of time, the three of you had landed back in the map room of the bunker, startling Sam and Dean.

“Alright!” Zach clapped his hands, a gleeful smile on his face. “Now that I’ve held up my end of the bargain, it’s time for you to hold up yours. Ready to call Michael on down?”

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Fragments - Part 10

Word Count: 1780

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff 

A/N: Hey look I kept it short.

Feedback and constructive criticism always welcome

Fragments Masterlist

“Cas? What’d you find?” Cas stormed into the bunker, looking grimmer than you’d seen in some time. He’d stormed into Heaven, checking out leads on your soul and if it could possibly be in the cage.

“Lucifer wasn’t lying.” Cas said. Dean was instantly by your side, lacing your fingers together. “The angel that grabbed you when you ran from them was one of Metatron’s followers.” Cas explained. “He had strict instructions from Metatron that if you acted out in anyway to throw you in the cage. Got the instruction manual on how to do it from a tablet.”

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I Think I Wanna Marry You (Part 6)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: none.

Summary: It’s getting harder for the both of them to act like they don’t feel anything less than in love.

Read the previous parts here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Dedicated to: @scamanders26newtcase , @julibelen , @mayainneverland , @the-rain-pours-down ,

If I forgot to tag you, I apologize; don’t be shy to inbox me and let me know, and I’ll be sure to in the next part.


When they get back to the hotel, it’s like there hadn’t been any fight to begin with. They enter the building arms linked and smiling and giggling and behind them trail Castiel and Sam, faces adorned with furtive smiles that tell just how much they know.

(Because they do.)

(Even if Dean and Y/N don’t yet…)

They go through the lounge and then out onto the patio where (most of) the family buzzes around. Marilyn speeds left and right, asking about the flower decorations and when the arch will be there while the bride-to-be, eyes trained on a piece of paper in her hands, stands at the sidelines, mumbling—most likely reciting her vows, Dean reasons.

They say their hellos briefly and then head upstairs to change, returning at a few minutes to six to offer whatever help they can.

“Oh, thank God, some muscle.” Marilyn sighs with relief as her eyes skitter from Sam’s face to Cas’. “Could you guys help them carry in the calendulas? You can just put them here.” She points to one of the empty tables, and Sam gives a curt nod, before heading off.

“And us?” Y/N asks.

“Uhmmm…” Her mother whips back around, then, furrowing her brow, takes moment to think. Dean waits, hoping she says there’s nothing left to do because after the day he’s had, all he wants is to put his feet up and blow off some steam.

But his wish isn’t granted. Eyes widening in realization, Marilyn perks up with an idea, guiding them down to the pond where Rick and some of Y/N;s cousins are setting up the tikki torches.

Reflected in the calm waters, the glimmer of the flames is bright and rapid, tails of fire growing higher and higher and then smaller as the winds course through the air.

“Here.” Picking up two stray lighters, the elder Woman hands them to the pair. “Get started.”

And then she’s off.

Sharing curious glances for a second, Y/N and Dean twiddle with the lighters in their hands. They haven’t got much time left and so they begin.

The torches stretch past the pond and into the garden where the reception will be held, but even when they’re done lighting them up, there’s the lanterns on the steps. Then the candles. Then, just when Dean, exhausted from running left and right, is about to sit down for a breather, the fly-away lantern.

“The what?” He asks breathlessly, hunched over on one of the steps.

Y/N tries not to roll her eyes (but fails, because come on..). “The fly-away lantern.” She says. “The one that we’re gonna set off into the sky when the reception ends. They want to test it now to avoid any accidents this weekend.”

“Accidents like what? Setting fire to the clouds?”

“Shut up and come help me.” Ignoring his moans of objection, Y/N hauls her friend up onto his feet, giggling, and leads him over to the spot where the lantern is set. There are a couple of people fooling around near it, Rick and his posse smiling and passing it to each other like it’s a balloon before she grabs it mid-air.

She sets it down, rolling her eyes and gets out her lighter. “I can’t leave you boys alone for a minute, can I?”

“You have all these macho men to help you out, what do you need me for?” Grumbling, Dean crosses his arms over his chest like a child.

“None of these macho men is my boyfriend.”

“I could volunteer to be replacement.” Rick teases.

“Not so fast, buddy.” And Dean, stepping in right in front of him, almost growls even if he knows it’s just a joke.

(This whole thing, in a way, is.)

First, Y/N pins her hair up in a sloppy bun to keep it from getting caught in the flame. The wind tickles the exposed nape of her neck, sending a shock through her and coating it in gooseflesh. It’s dangerous, Dean presumes, to be setting off an almost-literal ball of fire into the sky when the winds are so violent, but it’s Y/N. Trusting her word is as good as trusting his own.

She flicks the lighter on. Casting her eyes up at him, she beckons the elder Winchester over.

“Dean, hold it up for me, will you? Yeah, like that. Okay, don’t let go, I’m lighting it.”

“Looks like someone’s a little pyro.”

“Shut up. Dean, now.”

The elder Winchester’s fingers uncurl and everyone takes a step back, watching as the lantern, gleaming like a ball of fire, slips from their hold and soon begins to rise.

Dean watches it, entranced, a bit surprised actually because it looks a lot better than he thought it would. His initial fear of it backfiring dissipates like fog. His eyes follow the lantern floating higher and higher, moving with the breeze, dancing almost and he doesn’t want t look away lest he miss any more of its enchantment….

But he can’t help his gaze from flickering to Y/N.

Y/N, smiling, head tipped back and staring up at it like a child. Her eyes are squinted as she laughs triumphantly, tenderly, and Dean’s heart leaps in his chest for the hundredth time today. The rest of the family is gathering around to watch their success, all cheers and rapture and trying to set off some more just for the hell of it. Sam and Cas are back, too. Sam and Cas, Dean realizes, are setting off their very own lantern as well, and it takes him a moment to realize that they are calling him to join in on the fun.

And within two minutes, there are about twelve balls of fire dotting the sky, floating past the clouds and into the heavens.

They set the night ablaze with their success with the lanterns, infecting everyone around with a twin triumph and energy that comes the win and then move on to helping string the fairy lights across the garden. Y/N holds the ladder in place for him and tries not to laugh every time Dean complains she stop shaking it. When they finish their sector, they move on to picking up the cake, arranging the flowers and by the end of the night their hands are blistered and calloused from a day’s work.

Later in the night Dean sits on the edge of the bed, kneading his sore palms together and grimacing. His limbs feel disjointed and his back hurts and if he thought being mauled by a werewolf was the most pain he’s endured then, this day has come a close second. (Even if he’s too stubborn to admit that to a taunting Y/N).

“You look like crap.” She struts out of the bathroom with her pajamas on and a towel turbaned around her head. Dean rolls his eyes, trying not to show how much the mattress dipping from her weight makes his spine tingle.

“And I’m assuming you feel worse.”

“You assume right.”

“We made it, Dean.”  And then there’s that somber air hanging between them.

He wants to turn to meet her gaze, to look into the pools of y/e/c he assumes are glinting like stars with joy, but the excruciating pain in his neck won’t let him.

Keeping his back to her, the elder Winchester instead shuts his eyes and lets his breathing even. The room is silent for a moment. Feint music, the roar of Marilyn shouting instructions on where to set what. Dean tires not to laugh. Y/N really is her mother’s daughter….

“Something wrong?” Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, she tips her head to the side.

Shaking his head, the elder Winchester lets out a sigh. “Just tired.” He explains. She watches him, patient, biting her bottom lip between her teeth in contemplation.

He hopes she can’t see through the façade—but hoping is as far as his requests go, as the young girl straightens out, alert, and trains her eyes on him.


“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t do this, okay? We just made up a few hours ago and I’m not ready for another—“

“I’m not doing anything—Y/N…”Within the flash of second, Dean whips around to face his friend, a tired, almost sympathetic smile etched in his face and takes her hand into his. It’s warm, flax. Y/N stills for a moment and the green-eyed hunter takes it as his chance to shift and move a little bit closer. Just close enough to see the wave of red that flushes her cheeks and then disappears. (You’d think by now they’d be past the coyness).

Her hand feels endlessly warm in his. They’ve been down this road before. So many times—within this past two weeks and within the past few months it is then that Dean is finally tired of the tip-toeing. Tired, but…not ready to do anything about it. Not yet.

Realizing the shift in atmosphere, the elder Winchester gulps and slowly releases her hand. He must be imagining it—the glint of disappointment that flashes across Y/N’s face. Because within a second, she straightens her back and clears her throat.

There’s an awkward, almost sad smile on her face. Almost embarrassed, this time it’s his turn to mask his emotions of hurt when he realizes this.

When the air is almost too painfully awkward, he clears his throat and gives a half-assed, definitely not hurt, definitely earnest chuckle as he turns his back.

“Man, sorry…” Wiping a hand down his face, he apologizes. “I’m just tired. Really, really tired. Wow. Uhm—do you want the bed tonight?” He glances over his shoulder.

Y/N fumbles and then finally gathers herself enough to fervently shake her head. “Uhm, no…it’s fine.” Comes a strained laugh. “I could go spend the night in Sam and Cas’ room. You get your rest.”

“I f you wanna stay then—“

“Dean…” And there’s that hand again on his shoulder as Y/N, shaking her head, expression dressed in just as much exhaustion, stares at him. At this point, they’re back to normal; to colleagues and best friends who read each other like a book. He can see in her eyes she knows just how tired he is.

Eyes sliding over his face, she gives his arm a little squeeze. “Rest.” She says.


Stricken by her spell, the only thing the elder Winchester can do is swallow, nod wordlessly and watch as she pecks a light kiss on his forehead and then leaves the room. When the door clicks shut, echoing in the graveyard silent room, he lets out a breath.


Y/N doesn’t want to sleep in Sam and Cas’ room. She doesn’t want to be any more than six feet away from Dean, but at the moment that seems the best decision for everyone. For her, for him—right now, they are two raging tornadoes hurtling towards each other, and the only way to avoid having a colossal catastrophe is to let them rage on their own.

When she gets to the room, she knocks gingerly on the door and within a few seconds Sam opens up.

“Hi, roomie.” She greets, smiling as she sidesteps into the room. Cas is there, sitting in a chair and reading a travel guide from the night stand and he greets her with a curt nod, barely looking up to meet her eyes. Y/N throws herself onto the bed with an oomph.

“Another fight?” Sam asks as he settles down at the foot of the bed.

She shakes her head against the castle of pillows, then grabs another and props it behind her head. “No. He just needs his beauty sleep so I let him have it in the form of our bed.”

“I thought it’s big enough for the two of you…I mean, you guys never mind rooming on a hunt.”

“This isn’t a hunt, now is it?”

“Apparently not.” he answers. “I’ve been doing some digging since we got here, actually. Looks like Boston is pretty monster-free.”

“Have you seriously been looking for a case while we’re at a wedding?” Y/N asked, amused. Smiling, Sam gets up and moves over to the desk where his laptop sits open.

“The wedding’s after tomorrow.”


The younger hunter looks up, eyes curious and calm, and Y/N takes in a deep breath.

“You…” She struggles for the words that so desperately cling to the floor of his belly, anxious. Sitting up, the sheets crumple and ruffle with her movements and she grips one of the pillows to her chest like it will somehow ease her nerves. Pauses. Deep breaths. Rapid heartbeat. She tries again.

“You know about…Dean, and…I—don’t you?”



At this point, even Cas has tuned in, his book carefully rested in his lap. Staring at the younger Winchester, she can feel sweat bead at the nape of her neck.

“Oh, God, this is so awkward.” Y/N groans as she buries her face in the pillow. Her cheeks and ears feel hot, but at least she’s gotten the wheel rolling with this, at least they’re in motion.

But then, out of the sudden silence, she hears the quiet titter of Sam’s laugh. Shooting up to sit, she looks at him. Her eyes bounce from him to Cas whom she finds has a twin smirk on his lips, and Y/N’s eyes narrow.

The younger Winchester notices this and stifles his laughs, holding a fist to his mouth. “Sorry, Y/N, it’s just uhm…” His eyes lift to her and he’s still smiling. “…I knew a long time ago. Probably before even you did.”


“We both did.” He gestures to Cas. “It’s kind of…. Hard not to.”

The angel nods, not lifting his gaze as he flips to the next page.You and Dean are quite inseparable.”

“And intolerable.”

“And infatuated, clearly, with each other.”

“It’s only been a matter of time before you guys found out. That’s why I actually, uhm, called Cas up this week to come here. So that we could…”Sam’s voice dies away and he averts his eyes to something else, scratching his head, and it’s obvious, and strange, and Y/N, arms still firmly coiled around her pillow feels like a child whose parents have just broken the Santa-news to them.

Sam knows. And Cas knows.


“And Dean?” She can’t help but ask, not even bothering to hide the eager tone of her voice.

Exchanging looks, the two are quiet for a moment. The air in the room stills and no one says anything. When no reply comes, she can feel the edges of her nerves fray more and more.

“Sam,” An admonishing tone drips from tongue. “And what about Dean? Does he know?”

“Not…entirely. Okay, look,” Sighing, he then crosses the room, perching himself down beside her. She glares him down as he sits clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

“It’s hard to explain all this.”He states calmly

Her voice thin and almost cracking, Y/N’s eyes bore into his.“So this whole thing is one-sided?”

“What? No.”

“Dean does care about you, Y/N.” Cas supplements from his chair, his attention for his book long gone and now focused on them. “Immensely.”

“He’s in love with you.”


Sam bites his tongue and Y/N, gaping with wide-eyes, tries to gather the wind that has just been knocked out of her with his words. The world, just for split second, halts its movements and they are frozen,caught in a stand still of time and space and she



But before the younger Winchester can get a word out, there comes a knock on the door, drawing the attention away as Cas rises. When he swings the door open, Y/N isn’t surprised to see that it’s Dean.

With wet hair tousled in every which way, it’s obvious he has just showered and gotten ready for bed, already clad in some sweatpants and an old T-shirt. Gulping thickly, Y/N catches his eyes through the crack in the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Uhm, yes, sure.” The angel steps aside and in saunters the elder Winchester. When she looks at him, Y/N can see that, even if it might be miniscule, a bit fo tension has been washed away. Dean looks more tamed, more like himself as his lips form a smirk.

“Am I interrupting your slumber party?”

“You’re right in time.” The younger Winchester stands. “We were just about to braid each other’s hair.”

He laughs. “Oh, joy.”

“Beer?” Grabbing one of the cans on the table, Sam wiggles at his brother, smiling.

“Ice-cold, please.”

He tosses it to Dean and snapping it open, the elder Winchester takes a heavy sip, eyes fluttering shut.

Watching him, the coil in Y/N’s gut only tightens. She tries to make conversation, tries to laugh at his jokes, tries to act like she doesn’t notice that he’s a lot better now because even that feels too inconspicuous after what Sam just revealed, doesn’t it? Too suspicious? Maybe not. She’s tired and weary and after their second beer, Y/N gets up and decides to head back to spend the night in their room.

She splashes some water onto her face, cards her fingers through her hair and then crawl into bed. They don’t say anything to each other; not a goodnight or sweet dreams, but after the day they’ve had, the comfortable silence of the night is enough of an intimacy, especially when Y/N feels a hand slither beneath the blanket and lace with hers.



It’s a lot easier now that they’ve made up. Less tedious planning out their trips to fittings and rehearsals, definitely not as awkward as it once was, and Dean is definitely grateful that the entire wave of conflict between him and Y/N has blown over. It’s easier, now, for all of them; friends and family alike as they no longer have to pry either of them with questions of the other’s whereabouts…It’s easier now for Dean to let himself fall more and more in love with Y/N.

No strife nor resentment. They are yet again on the same page, and for him to say it feels like anything less than a great pleasure would be ridiculous.

Friday morning greets them with clear skies and warm sun, everything ripe and plump with color as they head into town for another fitting. Dean doesn’t stop mentioning this—the potent harmony—to Sam while they’re standing in the tailoring shop with Cas, arms raised up as they take the measurements round their waists because by God, he just can’t not ramble on about it.

Keeping as still as he can, the elder Winchester smiles subtly at his brother. “TGIF. I can’t wait for tonight.”

“I can see.” Sam chuckles in response, before a sly smirk forms on his lips. “ I see making up’s made you giddy nonstop, huh?”

“Giddy? I’m not giddy.”

“Dude, you were singing along to the radio today. Billboard one hundred.”

“Are we all getting suits for tonight or is dressing formal optional?” Castiel pipes up, earning the attention of both hunters as they turn to him standing by the mannequins, fingers trailing along the lapels. Brow knitted, the angel’s gaze bounces between the two.

“Well, I guess you can wear what you want. Thinking of sporting the trench-coat?” Sam prompts.

“Please don’t.” Dean shimmies his shoulders so that the jacket falls properly over his frame as he takes a look in the mirror. “Y/N wants us looking dapper as ever and that thing is…well..”

“Ragged. Yes, I know.” Cas answers plainly. With a sigh, he pivots around, sizing up one of the displays. It’s deep navy with a light, almost pastel marigold tie, and he sucks in a breath. “I’ll find a suit. Hopefully something—as Dean so put it—dapper.”

“’Atta’ boy.”

“Cas, pass me that silver tie, will you?” Sam asks. The angel tosses it to him and the younger Winchester quickly fixes it into place, eyes trained on his very own reflection.

When they’re done with suits, it’s onto picking up the minister from out of town and bringing him back to the hotel. Long drives and even longer conversations where Dean, for seemingly the first time does not mind  talking about how beautiful Boston is. Reverend Loyd was born here but moved away upon taking his oath, he tells them and the elder Winchester listens the entire drive, a content smile etched into his face.

(Because maybe he is giddy after all.)


The entire floor is filled with the sound of Donkeyboy blaring through the halls as Y/N gets ready.

Curling her hair, getting out her clothes, makeup. It’s the rehearsal tonight and, as declared by her elder sister, she’s going to have to look elegant and pleasant while retaining the focus on the bride to be. With that in mind, the entire preparation is set in place: her dress is spread across the bed alongside a pair of heels she borrowed from S/P/N and the room is scented with her fragrance of Peace Lilly perfume.  In the bathroom, Y/N is finishing up curling the ends of her Y/H/C hair as Stereolife slows to a finish on the speakers.

Sliding the curler through the last ringlet, she takes one of the bobby pins tucked between her lips and pins it in place, then does the back and spritzes a cloud of hairspray on to set it. Another song begins. Slower this time, wafting through the entire and, after taking one last look at the finish, she goes to turn the volume up. As she maneuvers around the room, her minds wanders. To tomorrow, what it will be like. To last night.

To Dean.

It’s no longer something she’s so ashamed of. Thinking about the elder Winchester has almost become a custom and so she chooses to not fight it. To embrace. It’s the only way she can make this any less painful, like a sailor thrown out into the sea, letting the tide wash over him. Consume—Y/N tries not to think about how much it has, so far. How much of her it has eaten, like a vicious disease she stubbornly refuses to treat.

She doesn’t want to treat it. She wants Dean.

And if she and Sam’s conversation over the phone last night means anything, then he wants her, too.

And isn’t that enough? Just knowing? She feels like it should be. Like yearning for more is a gluttony she needs to avoid lest Karma pay her a visit for not abiding, and yet at the same time it calls to her. Dean. Her Dean…He always has been, since the very day they met, two pieces of the same shattered glass and maybe they’re meant to fit together. Her Dean, for more than a year now.


They have battled and bled and been by one another for as long as she can remember. Dean is her best-friend, Y/N thinks. Even if it’s only mere thought, just knowing should be enough for her.


Thank you for reading.

Feel free to like, reblog and/or follow to keep updated on when I post the next part or to just see what other works I will posting. Definitely more Dean to come, because I’m all up in my feels.

As always: hope you’re having a great day!

Destiel Trope Collection
Day 5 | Bartender/Club Owner

The Lace Underneath | @blissfulcastiel
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5,981
Tags: stripper!Dean, bartender!Dean, first meetings, panty kink
Summary: Sometimes when Dean performs, he’ll slip on a pair of panties because he likes them, okay? Not to mention the extra bills that are tossed his way when he does. While he’s used to strangers vying for his attention and tripping over themselves to get more of him, he’s not prepared for when a certain pair of blue eyes has the tables turned on him.

Fight and Fool Around | @almaasi
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5,453
Tags:  PWP, Fluff and Smut, Bartender Castiel, Fights, First Kiss, First Time, Semi-Public Sex
SummaryDean enters a bar looking for a fight, but instead discovers he’s bisexual, gives his first handjob in an alleyway - and then leaves with a hickey, sex hair, and the bartender for a boyfriend. (in which Dean mistakes wanting to bang dudes with wanting to fight them)

Never To Burn | @galaxystiel
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 1,831
Tags:  Anti-Soulmate!AU, Flirting, First Meetings
SummaryDean’s perfectly content with the knowledge that he will never meet his soulmate, so long as he has his friends around him. But one by one they all meet their perfect partner. Sam meeting Jess is the last straw.

Meet The Family | @majesticduxk
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 5,336
Tags:  AU, bartender!Dean, Humour, Mild Angst, Barista!Castiel, Fluff
SummaryDean gets caught in a pair of sparkling eyes. But he is not going to date a customer again. It’s just not happening.

Chocolate Milk | @envydean
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1,132
Tags: bartender!Dean, teacher!Cas, Bars, Alcohol, Fluff
SummaryCas stared. Stared because the man behind the bar was beyond attractive and bordering on perfection. From where he was sat, Cas could see the freckles spotting his face, across the bridge of his nose. He could see his arms as they flexed and pulled a barrel out to refill one of the beer pumps on draught. He looked well-built and athletic and that ass, well that’s what Cas was staring at when he noticed that he was no longer staring at anything but thin air.
“What can I get ya?” Came a voice in front of him. It startled Cas out of his reverie and he looked at the bartender, eyes wide, brain wild.

Anonymous said: “children of parents who are business rivals and they sneak off to make out” au

Castiel sighed against Dean’s mouth when pulled away and laid his head against the wall. Dean took advantage of the situation to press hot, wet kisses against his throat.

They had been doing this for months now, sneaking off during their parents parties to stick their tongues down each others throats. They had made out in closets and other unlocked rooms in every house and hotel a party had been thrown in.

Their parents were business rivals that always tried to one up each other. Dean and Castiel used to bicker because of that, too. Then one night an argument turned into Dean shoving against a wall and kissing him, hard and fast. They had been sneaking off to do this ever since.

It wasn’t Cas’s ideal relationship, but it worked.

Dean slotted their mouths back together and pressed him harder against the door. Cas could faintly taste the champagne he lifted from a passing waitress on his tongue. Cas moaned quietly.

“Shut up,” Dean hissed. “They’ll hear us.”

There was a voice in the hall then that sounded mysteriously like Castiel’s brother, Michael. When it faded, Cas grabbed Dean’s hand.

“Come with me,” He whispered, tugging Dean along. He peeked around the closet door and didn’t see anyone, so he walked out. He quickly pulled Dean down the hall and up the stairs.

He pushed him into a bedroom and closed the door them, locking it, just in case. The last thing they needed was a lost guest or one of his brothers to find them.

“Where are we now?” Dean asked, pulling his tie off.

“My bedroom,” Cas answered, shoving Dean’s jacket off of his shoulders and pulling him to his bed.

They fell onto the mattress with their legs tangled together. They kissed again, their teeth clashing with the force of it. Cas put a hand in Dean’s hair, tugging lightly jut the way Dean liked it.

Dean pulled back for a to catch his breath, and looked down at Castiel. A strange look settled on his face after a moment.

“What is it?” Cas asked.

Dean leaned down and gave him a soft, slow kiss. It wasn’t like the others that they had shared. It wasn’t getting back at their parents or an escape from boredom. This kiss felt like it meant more.

“Dean?” Cas breathed when he pulled back. Dean ran his thumb over Cas’s cheek bone and smiled a little.

“I like you,” He said. Cas let out a relieved breath.

“I like you, too.”

“No, Cas, I really like you. I want this to be more than sneaking off when our parents aren’t looking. I want to be with you.”

“Really?” Cas didn’t want to get his hopes up. He knew Dean’s reputation. He hooked up with people, he got bored, and he left. That’s why Cas had made peace with the idea of being Dean’s fling at parties and never asked for more.

“Yes.” Dean said, earnestly, his green eyes shining. “Cas, I want this. I want you, no matter what anyone else says.”

“Me, too.”

Dean kissed him again, a sweet, short kiss, then stood and held out his hand.

“Come on,” He said, a mischievous smile crawling onto his face. “Let’s go give them something to talk about.”

Cas took his hand and let him pull up. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on their parents’ faces.

After they righted their clothes (Dean had to fix Cas’s tie because he was hopeless at it) they returned the party, hand in hand.

Dean pulled Cas to the dance floor and began to spin them around like the other couples.

“Everyone is staring,” Cas said, feeling his cheeks heating up. Dean smiled.

“Let them,” He answered. He leaned down and kissed him, not caring if people were watching. Cas smiled against his lips when the people around them gasped.

Both of their parents were staring at them from across the room, their mothers shocked and their fathers angry. Castiel knew that neither of them was going to bed tonight without a severe tongue lashing. But he didn’t care.

He had Dean. He had Dean’s arms around him and Dean’s lips on his. It was going to be an uphill battle, but they would fight it together.

Dean spun him further into the crowd, out of sight of their parents. He sang into Cas’s ear, it was off key, but Cas didn’t mind. He just tightened his arms around Dean’s neck and held on for the ride.

The Best of Fools

1.4k // ao3

‘The label is misleading’ is Cas’ initial reaction. There is no music on Dean’s top 13 Zepp traxx, at least not until the very end.

Cas gets in his truck to play it. It may be old, but there’s no cassette player in the bunker, and even if there was… Dean gave him this so he wants to be alone to properly receive it. The only other thing Dean has ever given him—the only thing Cas has ever been given before, other than heartache—is the trenchcoat Dean kept after the water swallowed him whole. He hadn’t deserved that gift. Cas doesn’t think he deserves this one, either, but Dean obviously does.

There’s a crackle pop at first, the telltale sign of old technology reading older technology, but the clearing of a throat chases it away.

Hey, Cas, Dean says, voice so hesitant Cas might have thought it was someone else if he didn’t know Dean through and through. Frail and small as the sound is, it is a proxy for Dean’s presence and commands Cas’ attention just like Dean would. It fills the car in its entirety.

It seeps into the leather, weaves itself between threads of the worn, reliable, stitching. It fogs up the glass in every way that matters, insulating this small space that is usually just Cas’, but is now shared between the two of them. It suddenly smells like Dean, too. The distinguishable scent of clean sweat, brisk air and fresh pie replaces the artificial fragrance of Caribbean Colada Cas purchased after the air freshener he’d found with the car stopped smelling like anything at all.

I told Sam you didn’t make it, Dean chokes out. Cas hears the words catch in the man’s throat and clog the airway for a moment. I hope it’s true, Cas. I couldn’t get you out of purgatory, I know, but I hope you died. A shaky breath. Those things… The leviathans, there were so many, I don’t see you survivin’ that unless they plan on- It’s briefly quiet and Cas imagines Dean shaking his head, sharking the thought loose. Even if you did a-and they didn’t. That’s forever alone, man. Forever of… nothing but trying to not die and- Dean cuts himself off and this time it’s a sob he chokes on. I did what I could, Cas.

Static usurps the recording away from Dean and for a terrifying moment Cas thinks he’s broken it, that whatever was coming next is lost to him, but Dean’s voice filters back. It’s different this time, resigned, tired, older.

I’m sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to tell you. If this thing with Ezekiel—hell, even if I do see you again, Cas, it’s not like I can look you in the eye and fess up. Dean laughs, a twisted sound that Cas doesn’t appreciate at all. I’m some kind of a special coward.

“You’re not, De—” Cas forgets himself.

Must be. I really fucking must be. You’re human, Cas. You said me and Sam are the best people to teach you how to be that, you came to us for guidance,  and I kicked you out. You gotta understand, man. I care, I do, fuck, Cas, I do. But it’s Sam’s life. There’s a long pause.

Long enough that Cas wonders if it’s the end, if Dean has run out of things to say. Long enough that Cas has time to relive that moment half a dozen times. It was years ago. Cas had all but forgotten, but memories are funny like that. They are dormant until they are alive, and alive they are consuming. He can see Dean, or some phantom of him, in the passenger seat of this once safe space, looking like he had, leaning against the library table.

Cas feels something sink inside him, just like he felt then when Dean’s words finally made sense, when he understood what Dean was asking him—telling him. The realisation that the something was his human heart, feeling human things like he hadn’t before, dawns on him again like a novel thought. The ghost of those green eyes are just as unbearable as the real ones had been.

You looked like you belonged, you know. I think this place could have been your home, too.

There’s static again, but Cas knows there’s more to come this time.

Dean’s voice is rough, just shy of angry, and so unlike him. Cas can hear the Mark of Cain reverberate off of it.

I told you to leave again, but this time you said no. You said no and you said it’s because you’re my friend. You’re not that, Cas. We were never just that and I can’t–I’d have done it, you know. I’d have killed you and with your own blade too. I still might. I can feel it, this thing inside me, it’s so thirsty and I–Maybe it’s better if I do. I don’t want to wake up someday and the only thing I can recognise is you and have you not recognise me at all. Everyone will die and it’ll just be you and me and I don’t want you to see what I’ll have become by then.

Dean swallows audibly, grinds his teeth, and Cas hears it like Dean is in the car with him. And Dean sort of is.

You said the mark is changing me. You’re right. You said you’ll be the one to watch me murder the world. You might be right about that too. And then… Then you’d be next. ‘Cause I’d do it, Cas. I swear to God I would. I almost did.

Cas barely notices the static, too preoccupied with the echoes of old wounds along the surface of his skin and deeper still.

We saved the sun! The words startle Cas, or maybe it’s the jovial tone that does it. Well, to be fair that was mostly me. I doctor Phil-ed that shit, Cas, you should have seen me. You almost did. You offered to come with. A laugh, riotous and vital and happy. It’s so rare that Cas gets to hear one of those from Dean; he already know he’ll be listening to this part of the tape on a loop. Maybe I should have let you. Front row seat to me being awesome. Another laugh and a ‘whoo!’. I got you back, I got Sam back, I got Mom back. I got it made, man! The laughing tapers off. You offered to come, Cas. You offered to come. Why would you do that? We’d just have died together. I didn’t mind dying alone, but you offered to come.

Cas minded living alone. Without Dean.


You said I love you. Dean bounces off the metal walls and into Cas, ricochets off bones, a pinball game where Cas’ ribs are. The words themselves coil around Cas’ neck. They hadn’t spoken of it since. Cas didn’t think he’d ever speak again when he said them. I love you. You said—

There’s a chuckle, deep, rooted, Dean.

You know I sacrificed one of my favourite tapes to record this. Christ, I don’t even remember what I first said on here. Dean laughs nervously, and Cas hears the lie. Dean knows exactly what he is sharing. Knows which parts of himself he is exposing. I guess I owe you a song. Dean hums something Cas recognises as a tune he’s heard play in the Impala, though he wouldn’t be able to name it. Then Dean sings, scratchy, off-key and perfect, I’ve really, really been the best of fools, I did what I could. Cause I love you, baby. How I love you, darling, How I love you, baby.


Dean is furious with Cas when he returns from Heaven, and not for the first time, Cas feels adrift, unanchored. Unworthy. Returning the tape feels like the right thing to do. He keeps it tucked in his breast pocket, usually for comfort, but right now it reminds him of how he is undeserving. Of Dean. Of lov—

Dean obviously doesn’t agree. Teaches him gifts are things you keep. Reminds him this love is here to stay.

ao3 // thank you to @sobamushi for her wonderful help

I Never Meant To Hurt You

gif is not mine

Title: I Never Meant To Hurt You

Pairing: Dean x Reader (also a little bit of demon!dean)

Word Count: 1,981

Warnings: angst, ouchies, slight fluff

A/N: This was a request from @flufy07! I hope you all enjoy this! I know it’s a little long, but I promise, it’s worth it! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much! <3

You began hunting at the age of twenty.  After losing everyone you loved to demons, you knew you had to become a hunter.  You wanted to save people who still had a chance to be saved.  When you started hunting you ran into two brothers who helped you out more than anyone; Sam and Dean Winchester.  Like you, they lost their mom to Azazel.  They ended up killing your sister who was half-demon.  You accepted it as a part of life, never blaming them for what they had to do.  You ran into them plenty of times after that.  You even worked cases with them.  

You were shocked when you saw that Sam was calling you.  They hadn’t reached out to you in a year.  When you talked to Sam, his voice sounded urgent and full of concern.  After everything they did for you, you would sacrifice anything for them.  Especially Dean, who always held a special place in your heart.

You knocked on the bunker’s metal door, looking around.  You hoped you had the right place.  Before you could further assess your whereabouts, the door opened.  You smiled at Sam, brushing past him.  

Keep reading

Fuck me, Cas (destiel smut)

Sequel to “Angel’s don’t love

Since Cas got his grace back, him and Dean haven’t had any sex. Dean worries that his lover will no longer be able to satisfy him or act like a robot when fucking. Is he wrong? 

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Genre: Smut

Warnings: The seX, blowjobs and handjobs, angel power sex???, over the knee spanking, bondage, sweet sweet foreplay, slight humiliation kink?, top/dom!Cas, oh hell yeah ;)

Word Count: 6.3k  

Keep reading