Title: When Everything Goes Wrong, Go Right

Title: When Everything Goes Wrong, Go Right

Author: Ryan_A

Artist: Aceriee

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester Garth/Benny Dean/Lee (breakup) Castiel/April (past)

Length: 100000

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Rape/Non-Con

Tags: Russian Alpha Cas, Omega Dean, Gentle yet Badass Cas, Secret Identity, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel likes his knives, Car Chases, Dean makes alphas eat his Impala’s dust, Gabriel’s Wonka-like Bakery

Posting Date: November 7, 2024

Summary: Dean swears the universe is out to get him. It’s bad enough he was born a rare omega in a world that sees them as freaks, but after ruffling the feathers of a relentless gang of alphas, he’s on the run, fleeing for his life. His Impala might be a beast of a muscle car, but even it can’t outrun the weather or the universe that insists on toying with him like a cat with its prey. Dean evades his pursuers only to end up trapped by a severe storm in a remote town in South Dakota. Drenched to the bone and unable to fix a flat tire in the woods, a strange blue-eyed alpha in a trench coat comes to his aid like a guardian angel. But Dean doesn’t trust alphas. And not everything is as it seems. With the universe still pulling its strings, Dean’s days of fleeing aren’t over yet.

Excerpt: “Cassie? What the hell happened to you?” Gabriel exclaims, eyes wide with shock. “The bridge was washed out. Had to swim across.” Gabriel curses under his breath and shoos Castiel toward the staff room. Castiel doesn’t miss how his older brother glances toward the hidden camera in the coffee maker, raising his hands to profess his innocence to the unseen audience. But he does hear Gabriel leave and return with a towel muttering, “At least stop making a puddle.” Castiel catches the towel, the fabric soft against his cold skin, and starts drying off. “I tried to call, but the phone lines are down from the storm.” Gabriel's face tightens with concern. “She's watching right now, isn't she?” Castiel asks, already knowing the answer. Gabriel doesn’t respond, instead suggesting, “Go use the shower upstairs. I’ll find you dry clothes.” “No.” Castiel shakes his head, water droplets flying. “I have to swim back.” “Eto pizdets,” Gabriel curses in Russian and scrubs his face. “I want you to stay put on the other side.” “But mandatory check-in—” “I’ll take care of it with Pakhan Mikhail. God knows Mother’s giving him an earful right now, seeing the state you’re in. My phone will be ringing as soon as you leave.” “It’s just water. I’m perfectly capable of swimming—” “Don’t you even think of it. Your lips are blue, Cassie. You think Mother can’t see color through that camera? She’s gonna hit me upside the head for this.” Castiel reaches for one of Gabriel’s freshly baked blueberry muffins with the compelling urge to package one up to bring to Dean. A gift. To provide for him like a good alpha. “Oh, Cassie.” Gabriel sits back on the sofa, his tone turned upbeat. “You got that look in your eye.” "What look?” Castiel glares, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising to his cheeks. “Like you picked up a stray. What is it this time? You rescue a drowned cat?” Gabriel leans forward, his grin widening as Castiel remains silent. “A dog? Did it show up at your door all sad-eyed, and you had to take it in?” Castiel stays silent, discomfort prickling at his skin. Gabriel's eyes narrow with discerning curiosity. “No . . . this is different, isn’t it? Something else. Something untamable. And you like it. A challenge. I’d say you took in a raccoon, but that doesn’t feel right either.” Gabriel taps his fingers over the top of the sofa. “Come on, tell me.” “No.” “Tell me or I’m gonna swim over there myself and find out what you’re hiding.” Reluctantly, Castiel mutters, “I rescued an omega.” Gabriel's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “She hot? Tell me she’s hot,” he asks with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. Castiel sighs. “She’s a he.” “A rare male omega? The odds of—” “1 in 1.3 million. He had a flat tire outside my cabin.” “Whoa, bro. The chances of that are about the same as getting struck by lightning.” “He nearly did.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

Title: The Citadel: Vassal for Ransom

Author: KaylieMalinza

Artist: Aceriee

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Cas, Dean/Benny briefly alluded to

Length: 50000

Warnings: Graphic Description of Injuries, Violence, Death, Dub-Con

Tags: Fantasy AU, worldbuilding, impact play, non-diegetic BDSM, giant!Cas, whump, stone top Cas, bittersweet ending, porn with plot, magical healing

Posting Date: November 11, 2024

Summary: Fantasy AU featuring geology, politics, family drama, metaphysical mystery, and lots of spanko smut. "His vassal's body is his to inspect and to direct, to deliver unto discipline and to succor; to countenance neither bloodshed nor corporeal wanting." When Dean and his guards are attacked by demons at the oasis, they must flee into the desert and beg for assistance from the nearest angelic citadel. He doesn't want to--the angels are weird and cold and isolationist, and it's unnerving how they can stride across the sand as giants, tall as trees, or shrink down to the size of a man with just a moment's thought. But with the supplies lost in the attack and one of his men grievously wounded, Dean doesn't have a choice. The citadel commander, Castiel, insists that Dean pledge vassalage--just temporarily, until Prince Sam back home can arrange for the ransom to be paid. The problem is that Castiel never would have agreed if he'd known Dean's true identity, and his connection to the mysterious Berserker who can murder angels as easily as breathing. Castiel's second in command is suspicious, Dean's own men doubt his judgment, and the demons are still eager to attack. Through it all, the pledge between liege and vassal grows from a political expediency to something more intimate and intense; something which neither Dean nor Castiel may be able to break when the time comes.

Excerpt: Ketch crawls up to the crest of the dune, sand sliding in his wake, and peers over it. "The demons appear to have lost our trail," he says, "but I expect they'll pick it up again soon. I don't recommend returning to the oasis." "No kidding," Dean says, as Charlie presses a tin of whitepaste into his palm; he always scrapes it off before they sleep, and obviously didn't have a chance to re-apply before the ambush. Now the sun is bearing down, and his skin is going tight and dry. "Martin, you know this area," Dean says, scooping out a healthy dollop of whitepaste and slathering it across any exposed skin: face, neck, the backs of his hands. "Suggestions?" Martin is squinting at the horizon, muttering, so Dean gives him a minute. He checks on the girls; Jo is tying on her archer's braces and Charlie is twisting Jo's hair up out of the way and smearing fresh whitepaste on the back of her neck. Dean jams his fingers at Charlie's hairline, because she never puts the whitepaste back far enough and then complains about burned scalp. "Should be a citadel near here," Martin says. "Commander is a little more friendly to humans than most." "That's not saying much," Benny cuts in. His whitepaste is cracking in the gap between shirt and deathmask, probably because he puts it on too thick. Dean reaches out to smooth out the crack, but his fingertips slip too deeply into it. So Benny didn't make it out of the melee unscathed, after all. No wonder he was moving slow. No wonder he's leaning a little too close to Dean, unable to keep his balance on the shifting sand. Charlie turns to see the mess on Dean's fingers, black-red and gelatinous clots mixing chalky pink against the paste, and she retches. "Pussy," Jo mutters, but she refuses to look at it. Even Ketch goes a little green. Martin's a breath away from passing out. "Any time your liege wants to take care of that would be great," Dean says. Benny snorts a laugh that forces a chunk of clotted blood from the slit. "She might not be paying attention," he says. "She's got a few thousand other vassals, you know." Dean grabs the front of his shirt and yanks him forward, staring through the eyeholes of the death mask. "Eve," he snaps. "Eve, listen to me, you had better--" "Mind your manners," Benny growls. Ketch skids down the dune. "Demons are moving again," he says. "Heal him," Dean says. He flicks his glance away and back, meeting Benny's eyes now instead of looking through them at the eldritch bitch who claimed him in death. "Tell her to heal you right now." "I suspect you are misconcepting the nature of vassalage," Benny says. "I don't give her orders." "Should I say please?" Dean asks, but he doesn't have to: the wound is seaming up, muscles jumping, whitepaste flaking away from smooth, whole skin.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

target locked

Title: twisted knife; sleepless night

Author: s7jacket

Artist: lunetara

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Dean/Castiel

Length: 20000

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse, Outsider POV, Road Trip, Established Relationship, Second Person POV, Canon Divergence

Posting Date: November 5, 2024

Summary: All you’re trying to do is survive the night. Survive the night and get to Safe Winter without running into too many zombies along the way. You don’t expect to run into them, two guys who looked like they murdered the world and kept on walking. Still, maybe an alliance wouldn’t be so bad.

Excerpt: The map rustles when you spread it across the counter, thumb running over the red sharpie line that marks the route you've taken across the country, a haphazard zig-zag pockmarked by tragedy. Safe Winter is marked with a X, just another few weeks walk from where you are. It's been a long journey. A fucked up, doomed proposal from the start, but no one had a reason to argue or to stay behind. There were nine of you when you set out and now there's just you, alone and lonely and too damn stubborn to lay down and die, so you're pushing on regardless. You'll get there, or you'll go down fighting. At this point, either option will do. You're just drifting off, dozing in that half-wakeful world beyond, when you hear them. Voices, drifting through the glass doors at the front. You're grateful for the shelf, but you don't relax. Relaxing is what nearly got you killed the last time. What actually did get the others killed. Not your fault but still. Hard to get past that one. The voices—two of them, both male, move away for a moment, then come back, loud enough that you can hear it even with one ear pressed against the fabric of your pack.  They must have found a back entrance—maybe a propped open side door or a window that hadn’t latched properly—and now they’re in that back office, the one you’d so carelessly left unguarded. Still, the lock. The one line of defence between you and possible doom. The hair on the back of your neck prickles; your heartbeat pounds steadily in your ears.  They seem to be having some sort of argument, but it sounds like it's been rehashed and revisited, an old wound that neither of them can stop picking at. Their voices are deep and rough.  “Dude, I’m telling you, he’s not going to be there,” one of them is saying, and he sounds insistent, if a little desperate. “We’ve checked everywhere else,” the other voice, somehow lower, replies, and he just sounds completely exasperated. “And don’t call me ‘dude’.” “Sorry, buddy,” the first voice says. There’s the tiniest hint of a smile in it, like this is an old, inside joke.  There’s a clatter and a rattle as they try the door and the low sound of under-the-breath swearing. A “fuck, c’mon—“ from the first voice and then a “here, let me—“ from the second, and then the creak of hinges shatters the already tenuous quiet.  They come through the door. 

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

Title: Copper Roses

Author: Trenchcoat_Paradigm

Artist: Spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean Winchester / Castiel Sam Winchester / Eileen Leahy Dean Winchester / Lisa Braden (past mention)

Length: 30000

Warnings: Discussions / Themes of terminal illness.

Tags: Canon Divergent, Hanahaki disease, Curse Breaking, Caregiving, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Eventual Smut.

Posting Date: November 6, 2024

Summary: Dean is sick. Has been sick for a few days – ever since they came off their last hunt – and all looks hopelessly bleak as more blood-soaked petals clog his airways. Hanahaki disease is a deadly curse that sees flowers grow and bloom inside a person whose heart is filled with a romantic love for another, and the only way to cure it is to have that love returned to them. But Dean is adamant that this person doesn’t love him back and he refuses to speak their name.  If Castiel’s words would impact his condition he would say them loud and proud every day, but that's impossible. There is no way that Dean could be in love with a broken angel. He wishes he was the one who contracted the wretched curse just to take away Dean’s burden, he can't stand watching the man he loves wither and die right before his eyes. He will do whatever it takes to see Dean get that cure, even if it means breaking his own heart in the process.

Excerpt: One of Castiel’s downfalls of losing his grace was he now needed to rest more to help what little grace remained to revitalize quicker, but this night it wouldn’t be the hum of the circulating air or the clang of pipes that would keep Castiel from sleep. It was the hacking, retching cough that echoed down the hallway.  Dean had been coughing nonstop since he went to bed less than an hour ago. He had started in his room, the spluttering muffled behind his closed door, but he quickly moved from his room to the bathroom – which was adjacent to Castiel’s room. It had been five minutes, and that coughing hadn’t slowed, it was an intense chesty cough that sounded like it rattled every bone in his body, and after another heaving bout of it Castiel was out of bed and across the hall to see if he could help.  He knocked on the bathroom door gingerly as he pushed it open, “Dean?” The bathroom was a small space compared to the rest of the bunker and clad in an off-white tile. Three shower cubicles stood to the left and a row of three sinks sat under large rectangular mirrors to the right, which is where he found Dean. He was hunched over the middle sink, his hands gripped tightly around the porcine rim as he heaved and choked out another retching splutter.  The back of his hand wiped at his mouth as he lifted his eyes to Cas. For want of a better word, he looked awful. His skin was pasty and pale which made the heavy bags under his eyes even more prominent. His usual perfectly manicured hair was misshapen and at odd angles with dry days old product flaking from it, and those bright dazzling forest green eyes were dull and red-rimmed. “Sorry. Did I wake you?” he wheezed. Castiel shook his head as he took a single step inside the room, “I was just coming to check on you. See if I could help.” Dean opened his mouth to speak – probably to argue – but all that came out was another hacking splutter. He turned sharply back to the sink to cough violently into the bowl, like a cat trying to bring up a fur ball. Castiel hurried to his side, rubbing a soothing hand between his shoulder blades as Dean continued to choke and wheeze. He looked down and noticed tiny flecks of bright red blood splattered into the white of the bowl. No doubt due to the irritation his throat was suffering thanks to the violent coughing, but still alarming to see nonetheless.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

Suptober Day 2 // Spa Day

Charlie gives Dean a manicure