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[fic] [supernatural | destiel] behold the last

Summary:

The place was open for Sunday services only, but Dean has carried a pick set in his jacket since he was nine, so it was just a few seconds before Cas took a creaking step into the nave, gazing reverently upon the whitewashed walls, the hardwood oak pews, the stained glass windows.

ao3

One routine salt-and-burn and they were back on the I-70 from Topeka in dispirited silence while the Impala ate up the miles. As Dean eyed Cas, he thought the other man looked worse for wear the further from grace he’d fallen, especially now that he was completely human. It didn’t suit him. He looked hollow, haunted. It made Dean feel like an asshole, sometimes, for resurrecting him.

As usual, Cas leaned his head against his window, eyes fixed vacantly ahead. Didn’t initiate conversation, didn’t say much when Dean said something. So Dean sure as hell took notice when Cas turned his head to look at Exit 324. He pulled onto the dirt road and followed it past little white houses and lush greenery on rich dark soil, watching how Cas reacted to turns and forks to make sure he was going the right way.

At one of the intersections (Chapel Street, go figure) stood a small, gabled limestone chapel, complete with bell tower. Straight out of a postcard. Cas turned his head to look at it as they approached, so Dean pulled the Impala into the empty parking lot and killed the engine.

The place was open for Sunday services only, but Dean has carried a pick set in his jacket since he was nine, so it was just a few seconds before Cas took a creaking step into the nave, gazing reverently upon the whitewashed walls, the hardwood oak pews, the stained glass windows.

Dean took a moment to look around, himself. The place wasn’t much; just an old church. He’d never been much for religion and his experiences had soured him on any sort of spirituality. It was quiet, though, so that was nice.

The sound of something falling caught Dean’s attention and he turned to find Cas on his knees beside the front pew, shoulders hunched, trembling and sniffling softly. Dean choked on curses and apologies as he made his way over, kneeling beside Cas and touching his shoulder. Cas collapsed into Dean. His tears dampened Dean’s shirts as he heaved with a sorrow Dean had never seen him express. Or, thinking of his increasingly gaunt face over the years, maybe he had.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and murmured apologies he didn’t fully mean to his damp temple. He hadn’t truly understood at the time what he’d asked Cas to sacrifice when he’d demanded his help to save Sam the first time, but he wished he felt guilty enough to regret it.

Dean and Cas are getting married!💚💙

Happy Valentine’s Destiel Wedding Day everyone!

Thanks @bonchickabelle for your support!

Post 15x19 fix it fic

~2,8k words

“Are you nervous?” Sam teased Dean, who stood in front of the mirror, tugging his tie straight. He thought about it for a moment “Excited? Sure, can’t wait to see Cas again after you forced us to spend last night apart for some stupid tradition. Nervous? No. It’s Cas I’m marrying.” Sam smiled knowingly, already half out the door. “I’m very happy for you two!” Alone again, Dean’s eyes drifted back to the mirror and he placed his hand on his shoulder, right over Cas’ handprint. He meant what he had said to Sam. It had been the first night they had been apart since he got Cas back and he barely slept. He had just felt wrong without hearing Cas’ gentle breaths, without being able to wrap his arms around the former angel and without feeling the weight of Cas’ head on his chest. But was he nervous? Not at all. He was almost surprised at how calm he felt. He’d never been this sure about anything in his life. After today, he would never have to spend another night without Cas.

Everything was perfect. Everyone they knew had insisted on helping with the wedding in one way or another. Sam wanted to officiate them, he got his license as soon as he heard the happy news. Eileen had taken the grooms separately to shop for wedding suits, Jack had promised them a warm, sunny day and handmade the invitations with Claire. Jody and Donna had baked their wedding cake, Ellen and Jo contributed a dozen homemade pies, Bobby took care of the bar and the catering. Garth and Bess promised to capture the whole day on their cameras. Gabe offered to be their DJ and Ash took care of all the technical stuff. Rowena had promised them truly magical fireworks at night, while Crowley and Benny were in charge of the security, although that shouldn’t be necessary ever since Jack became god.

Charlie and Dorothy had not only offered their vast, beautiful property as their wedding venue, they had also taken care of the decorations. The ceremony was set to take place on the Southern side of their house. An aisle led through rows of white chairs up to a little lake in front of which they had placed a rectangular wooden arc, decorated with greenery and big white flowers that stood out brightly against the blue water in the background. The Western side of the house was already equipped with a big dance floor around which tables, a big buffet and a bar had been set up. To top it all off, Charly and Dorothy had hanged fairy lights in every single tree on their property, which would create a magical atmosphere at night.

Lost in thoughts, Dean adjusted the flower on his lapel and smiled at the mirror. He never thought that he – Dean fucking Winchester – would ever get married. And yet here he was. His phone buzzed and his smile became even wider as he saw who texted him.

[Cas 10:34] Dean?

[Dean 10:35] What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now😉

[Cas 10:37] No, my feet are perfectly fine, why would they be cold?

Dean rolled his eyes, amused at his fiancé’s confusion.

[Dean 10:37] Not literally, that’s an expression for someone who has second thoughts on their wedding day. What’s going on?

[Cas 10:38] Oh. I see. I’m nervous that I might act weird because I don’t know all wedding customs. So I wanted to ask if you could maybe help me out when I’m about to make a fool out of myself.

[Dean 10:39] Sure thing, sunshine, but don’t worry about acting right, it’s your wedding day, all you have to do is enjoy it. And everybody here knows you’re a little weird😉

Without a knock, Charlie barged in. “What’s up bitch, you ready? Cause your fiancé is and he’s smokin’ hot.” She winked as she noticed Dean’s blushing cheeks. “Yeah, I’m ready. Where’s Bobby?” “Already waiting downstairs for you. I have to go, see you in a few”.  As quick as she had come, she disappeared again. Dean took another glance at the mirror to make sure everything was perfect before he left the room.

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I’m screaming.. “accidents don’t just happen accidentally”? Demon and Angel killer?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! This is literally everything, this is PERFECT and although I always loved thrillers I never would have thought that you’d get me to find SERIAL KILLER HUBBYS this DAMN romantic and cute..

You are an EXTROARDINARY writer and I thank you so much for gifting us this piece of art!!

Of Husbands and Murder

word count: 3k

written for the prompt “Noir” for Their Love Was Real

Dean had a great life.

He worked as a mechanic during the day, and he loved his job. Every evening, he came home to his husband. Said husband made some fucking awesome pie. On weekends, he played DnD with his best friend. His brother called him at least once a week from college.

And, of course, he was a serial killer.

Late at night, sometimes Dean would get an itch that he had to scratch. A thirst that couldn’t be quenched. Nothing else did it. The only thing that sated it were the pained screams of whoever he had tied to his chair and the blood that spilled across the warehouse floor. The only thing that truly satisfied him was cleaning up after, seeing the flecks of blood mixed in with his freckles, and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

When he got home and the itch was scratched, he’d crawl back into bed, and in the morning, Cas would be none the wiser that he had ever been gone, and life continued.

Change someone’s oil. Fix the brakes on a Toyota. Come home covered in grease. Take a shower. Steal kisses from his husband. Hang out with Charlie on weekends. Jokingly remind Sam not to go to any keggers. Off someone. Repeat. Such was the life of Dean Winchester.

This time, the itch came in the middle of January.

the rest + tag list below the cut, or on a03 here.

Like most November days, it was blustery and cold. Dean liked it that way. If someone off the streets went missing, well, it would be assumed that they froze to death. Days would pass before the body would be found, marked and warranting a front page headline. Easier for him.

“Boy! You got any spark plugs there?”

“Uh….” Dean glanced around the area where he was working. “Nope. Sorry, Bobby.”

“Balls. We’re out.”

“What do you need them for?” Dean asked, turning back to the engine he was working with. “Someone need theirs replaced?”

Bobby leveled him with a glare from beneath his baseball cap. “No, I wanna turn ‘em into a necklace. Yes, a customer needs them.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender. “Woah. Didn’t know if you were just asking for inventory.”

“Since when do I do inventory? That’s Kevin’s job. He’s got exams, though, so he’s preoccupied at the moment.”

“He didn’t leave a list?”

Bobby huffed. “He did, but I can’t read it.”

Dean straightened up, wiping his hands on a towel. “Here, let me see.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. “You think you can crack it.”

“How hard can it be?” Dean scoffed. “I had to read Sammy’s handwriting for years, I think I can manage Kev’s.”

Bobby grumbled something under his breath, moving towards his office.

Dean watched him disappear behind a large truck. When he was alone, the thirst came back, more persistent than it had been.

Tonight, Dean figured. He’d take care of it tonight. Just a few more hours of his shift, he’d see Cas, then he’d grab someone off the streets and parch his thirst.

Bobby came back and shoved a notebook into Dean’s hands. “Still think you can read it?”

Dean squinted at the— was that even writing? “The hell?”

“Exactly,” Bobby said.

“That’s not writing, it’s chicken scratch,” Dean said, shoving the notebook back at him. “Tell Kevin to type his notes instead.”

The day continued. Dean fixed a set of taillights on a pickup truck, changed the oil on a Honda, had to deal with the broken brakes on a Prius. By the time his shift was over, he was covered head to toe in grease. Just another day on the job.

After toweling the worst of it off, Dean gave Bobby a wave and made his way outside.

Singer’s Auto and Parts consisted of a large, out of the way garage that connected to a small room Bobby used as his office, a large parking lot out back for the cars they were fixing up, and a cracked stretch of asphalt where the employees parked. Not the most glamorous, but then again, neither was Dean.

He ducked into the Impala, the corner of his mouth turning up as her engine rumbled. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges, inky purples, and all the shades in between. Rush hour had just ended, leaving the streets emptying of cars but not deserted. Led Zeppelin blaring, Dean pulled out onto the road, headed for home.

He missed every red light, and within fifteen minutes, was pulling into the driveway and parking the car.

Cas was already inside, curled up on the couch, papers spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up when Dean came in and smiled. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiled back. “Hey, Cas. ‘Nother essay?”

Cas shook his head. “Creative writing. Some of them are very good. Actually, I’m rather impressed by a number of them. This one, on the other hand….”

“Well, lemme take a shower, and then I’ll rescue you. Deal?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Cas said. “Please, hurry.”

Dean mock saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

As promised, the shower was quick, and in no time, Dean had shifted Cas’ papers aside and thrown himself down on the couch next to him. He dropped a kiss on the top of Cas’ head and threw an arm around him.

Cas leaned against him, head settling against Dean’s shoulder. “Marie is an excellent student,” he said, “and very creative, but I fail to understand her obsession with robots, ninjas, and ‘subtext.’”

Dean huffed a laugh. “‘Course you don’t.”

Cas looked away from his paper to glare at him.

Dean laughed harder. “It’s cute, Cas.”

The glare didn’t cease. “I don’t want to be cute. I’m not cute.”

“Whatever gets you through the night,” Dean said.

“You're insufferable,” Cas said.

“You love me anyway.”

“Yes.”

Dean grinned. “Love you, too.”

The itch squirmed beneath his skin, in his very bones. It was always better, more under control around Cas, but never gone.

He had to keep the night moving. As much as he loved this time with his husband, the itch was there and needed scratching. He needed to make someone bleed, needed to hurt, to kill. None of which would happen while Cas was still awake.

“So,” Dean said, “how do you feel about takeout for tonight? Because I really don’t wanna cook anything, and it’s kinda late.”

Cas nodded. “Chinese?”

“Sounds good. Want me to order?”

“As long as you don’t ‘forget’ to order stir fry or something else with vegetables.”

Dean groaned as he stood up. “Why the hell would you want vegetables?”

“Because they’re good.”

This time, Dean was the one to roll his eyes. “Fine. You owe me, though.”

Cas smirked triumphantly for the remainder of the night. It was especially wide when Dean actually ate the stir fry.

Not that Dean would ever admit it, but it was actually pretty good. Maybe a little more than pretty good.

By the time he and Cas were in bed, it was nearing ten o’clock. Surprisingly early. Cas seemed to have wanted to get into bed as well, which was unusual. When Dean asked him about it, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’ve been working since five o’clock this morning, I think I deserve a break.”

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Sure thing, angel.”

Something flashed briefly in Cas’ eyes, there and gone too quickly for Dean to dissect.

They crawled into bed, Dean curled protectively around Cas, listening to Cas’ breathing even out. Cas was so peaceful like this. Any other night, Dean would have stayed awake, kept watching him until he drifted off. Taking in every bit of Cas he could. But tonight….

As gently as he could, Dean extracted himself from around Cas, taking care not to disturb him. The bed creaked as he stood up, but there wasn’t any other movement. Good.

He crept through the house quietly, grabbing the keys off the counter, wincing when the door squeaked on his way out.

This time when Dean drove, there was no music. Just him, his car, the road, and the itch, the desire, the need. Clawing its way out from his core, begging for blood and screams. Just one person. That was all he needed. A person and a knife, and it would be dealt with. His knives had been left there. Now, all he needed was a guest.

There was a homeless person, dumpster diving in an alley that Dean saw halfway into the city. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. His oversized coat was dirty, and his face smudged with grime. He was no one.

Perfect.

The Impala slowed and stopped on the side of the road.

“Need a lift?”

The kid looked up.

“I’ve also got a spare room, if you need it,” Dean added.

The kid’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Hop on in.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” the kid asked suspiciously.

Dean shrugged. “Just gonna have to.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dean,” Dean said. “You?”

“Alfie,” the kid offered.

“Well, Alfie,” Dean said, putting on his most charming smile, “I’ll ask again: need a lift?”

Alfie got into the car.

The blood pounding in Dean’s ears with need got louder as Alfie slammed the passenger door shut behind him. Giving him no time to react, Dean seized the back of his head and slammed it against the dashboard. There was a satisfying thunk, and the kid’s eyes unfocused before he passed out.

Dean hit the gas.

________________

The warehouse was on the far edge of the city, far enough out that Dean wasn’t even sure it was a part of the city.

The building was rusting and dirty and old and abandoned. A little cliché, but since when had that hurt anyone?

Dean parked the Impala behind the warehouse, then ducked outside the car. He popped open the trunk. Shuffling aside some reusable bags, Dean found his buried stash of zip ties. Pocketing a few, he slammed the trunk shut, then went around to the passenger side door.

Alfie was still out cold. He didn’t even stir when Dean picked him up bridal style and carried him into the warehouse. Didn’t move when Dean used the zip ties to tie him to a chair, or grabbed some duct tape off a bench and covered his mouth.

He probably had at least ten minutes until he would come to. Ten minutes to kill. Ten minutes to decide what he wanted to do tonight to make him scream.

Dean kept his knives by a workbench in the far corner of the main room. To the best of his knowledge, it was your standard serial killer set-up; a wide array of weapons of varying sizes, shapes, and sharpness. Above them he had hung newspaper clippings, each with a headline pertaining to him.

Body Discovered Bearing Demonic Symbol

New Body Found, Not the Work of Angel Killer

Cult in Sioux Falls?

One Wasn’t Enough: Two Serial Killers in Sioux Falls?

Serial Killer on the Loose

Sioux Falls Murderer Dubbed “Demon Killer”

Demon Kills Again

Demon and Angel Killers Strike Again

Another Body Found With Demon Mark

Two Bodies Found In One Night

Trail of Bodies Leads Nowhere

Heaven and Hell Working Together?

Theories About Angel and Demon Killers Run Rampant

Some of the most recent articles made Dean the most curious. No longer was he the only person in Sioux Falls with the extra curricular activity murder. And this someone, dubbed the Angel Killer because of their tendency to spray paint coronas over the heads of their victims, had been around since before Dean moved there. Then Dean had started offing people. There was no connection between the two of them. And then, for whatever reason, this Angel Killer had started killing on the same nights as Dean. Why was that? Accidents didn’t happen accidentally. There was something there, more to it that coincidence, Dean was sure. But what?

Alfie groaned, the sound muffled slightly by the tape.

Dean grabbed a blade off the table, then turned to look at Alfie. “Good, You’re awake.”

Alfie was still out of it, struggling to make sense of the situation. His eyes widened when he saw the knife Dean was twirling in one hand.

This knife, in particular, was one of Dean’s favorites. It had a sturdy handle, and an even hardier blade. Part of it was sharp, smooth enough to slice skin with so much of a brush, while the other part of it was serrated like the jaws of some creature, perfect for ripping and tearing away chunks of flesh. Elegant and savage, all at once.

Dean smiled at the kid dangerously. “Glad you’re up. Would’ve had to go on without you if you hadn’t woken up in the next few minutes. After this, I’ve gotta get home. Work tomorrow. Husband to get back to.”

Alfie tried to shout something.

“Not gonna work, buddy. You’re not the first one to try.” He took a few steps closer, then used the tip of the blade to force up Alfie’s chin. “So,” Dean said, “ready to have some fun?”

There was a strangled sob as Dean lightly dragged the tip of the knife down Alfie’s throat, stopping when he reached his clavicle. With a swift motion, he sliced open the front of the kid’s jacket and shirt, exposing the upper part of his chest. It rose and fell rapidly, nothing like the calm inhales and exhales of Cas falling asleep. While that made something inside him flare warmly, this— the raw, unfiltered panic— filled him with satisfaction.

Dean smiled as he made his first incisions into the kid, felt more and more alive with each scream. Happily watched the blood drip to the floor, pool around the chair as he carved. This wasn’t his most precise work, but he only had a little while before he had to be back in bed. It didn’t matter that it was sloppy; it did the job.

Only after his chest and face had been completely mangled did Dean roll up the kid’s sleeve. With steady hands, he carved his signature into Alfie’s forearm, a seven-like shape that dug into the flesh. Dean took pleasure in the kid's heaving chest, reveled in knowing that his lungs weren’t getting enough air.

“Thanks, kid.” Dean grinned at him as he made the final line of the design, then drove the knife into his chest.

Alfie gargled wetly, then—

Nothing.

His body sagged in the chair, bound and bloody and lifeless.

The itch was gone.

Dean admired his work for a few moments, then pivoted to grab a cloth from his workbench to clean the blood off his knife. As he was wiping it down, there was a voice from behind him.

“So you’re the Demon Killer.”

Dean froze. He knew that voice.

“I always wondered what you did when you disappeared,” Cas said.

Dean turned around.

Cas was standing on the other side of the chair. He looked incredibly out of place amongst the carnage; he was still wearing his ridiculous bee pajamas, only with his trench coat thrown over them. His attention was turned to Alfie’s corpse. “You know what you’re doing,” Cas noted, as though this was a perfectly normal conversation. “It’s quite impressive. I should have expected as much, given your skills in the kitchen.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean demanded.

Cas finally looked at him, his expression one of interest. “I thought I said that. I wanted to know what you did when you left at night,” he said simply. “This isn’t what I expected, but… you always are full of surprises.”

“Why now?”

“Curiosity finally got the better of me. I figured I could hold off on my plans for a few weeks longer.”

The gears in Dean’s head started turning. “Your… plans?” Dean said slowly.

Cas nodded. His eyes flickered behind Dean, to the newspaper articles.

Dean shook his head as he connected the dots. “No way,” he said. “Absolutely not. You’re not— you can’t be—“

“The so-called ‘Angel Killer?’” Cas asked.

If Dean hadn’t been struggling to process, he would have rolled his eyes at Cas’ finger quotes.

“Yes,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “I believe that’s what they call me.”

“No,” Dean said insistently. “You— there’s no way you’re a serial killer!”

“What makes you think that?” Cas seemed genuinely curious.

“You're an English teacher!”

Cas fixed him with a look. “You’re a mechanic.”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “This is not happening.”

“I can assure you it is,” Cas said.

“Prove it,” Dean said.

Cas’ eyes glinted at the challenge. In a few strides, he was in Dean’s space, pressing their lips together.

Oh. Shit.

This was definitely happening.

When they broke apart, there was some blood smeared on Cas’ face. A smile was beginning to form, his mouth quirking upwards. “Was that enough proof?”

Dean nodded. He reached out and tried to wipe off some of the blood that had gotten on Cas’ face with his thumb, only succeeding in streaking it more.

They stood there for a few moments silently.

At last, Dean spoke.

“Cas,” he said, licking his lips, “you’re even more of a badass than I thought you were.”

“I know,” Cas said. “The same goes for you.”

“How long?”

Cas didn’t need him to specify. He considered it for a few seconds. “Years. Just a few before I met you.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Uh, I started not long before I came to Sioux Falls, but….”

They fell quiet again.

“I’m sensing awkwardness,” Cas said.

That was so incredibly Cas that Dean had to laugh, the tension broken. “Keen observation, Sherlock.” And then, as though he’d said it a hundred times, “Help me with the body?”

Cas’ smile widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”

One body-disposal and a drive home later, Dean was laying in bed, curled around Cas. He smiled into the back of Cas’ neck. Yeah. He had a great life.

He worked as a mechanic during the day, and he loved his job. On weekends, he played DnD with his best friend. His brother called him at least once a week from college.

Every day, he came home to his husband. Said husband made some fucking awesome pie.

And, of course, he was a serial killer.

tag list: @theirlovewasreal @holmesemrys @fanfic-corner @lovingherwasgay @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @top13zepptraxx @i-do-know-and-idc

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Beneath the surface

Part 3 of my Destiel wedding series. 

Click here for the masterpost.

The newlyweds finally go on their beach vacation for their honeymoon and Cas has to overcome an old fear.

~ 1k words

“Dean...” Cas muttered while his husband helped him into the dive gear. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea.” Dean frowned, concentrated on double checking his partner’s equipment. “We had a deal, remember? I agreed to get on a plane just to come here if you’d get over your fear of being underwater and come on a dive with me.” Cas knew Dean was right, he had agreed to this. But feeling the heavy weight of the oxygen tank on his back, he already regretted this decision. Lifting his head, Dean teased him with a grin “How can a multidimensional wavelength of cosmic intent be scared about going for a simple plunge in the ocean?” “Angels were made to fly, not to be trapped under the water”. Dean raised an eyebrow. “Well, humans were not made to fly and I still got onto that plane, didn’t I?” Cas sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. “Come on sunshine. We’ll be right under the surface at the beginning, so if you’re getting anxious, we’ll be up within a split second. I won’t force you to follow through if you’re truly uncomfortable, but at least give it a try?” Cas swallowed hard, then nodded, reaching for Dean’s hand. “Okay, let’s go”.

After entering the water and making last adjustments, Dean gave Cas a questioning look. Cas squeezed Dean’s hand nervously and they slowly sank down. Dean kept his eyes fixated on Cas, ready to get him up immediately if he started to panic. Cas’ eyes were ripped wide open, taking in all those weird, new sensations. He had been around for billions of years and yet he’d never seen what’s underneath the surface of the ocean. Not until his pain-in-the-ass husband had made this deal with him for their honeymoon. Bubbles rose from Dean’s regulator as he chuckled at the dumbfounded expression on Cas’ face. He gestured to go deeper and they slowly sank into the deep blue.

Now that he was completely sure that Cas wasn’t going to panic, Dean started to take in his surroundings. He had always imagined that it would be nice to dive, that the underwater world would be absolutely stunning, but now that he was actually experiencing it, he kept glancing to Cas. Sure, he too was impressed by all the colorful fish around him and he loved how the sunbeams broke through the surface and illuminated the blue that seemed to swallow all colors the deeper they went. But the best part was experiencing all of this with Cas for the first time and seeing the pure joy on his husband’s face. The only sounds down here came from fish nibbling on the colorful diversity of corals and from their own breath, sucking in air from their tanks and blowing it out as bubbles. It was peaceful. As they glid past corals and all kinds of wonderful creatures, Cas kept tugging on Dean’s arm excitedly, pointing out rainbow-colored fish, a turtle and even a little squid that swam past them. Their time went over way too quickly.

As they broke through the surface and ripped off their masks, Cas’ eyes beamed at Dean. He smiled widely and started to ramble: “Dean... that was incredible! Did you see that puffy fish in the cave? And the rainbow ones nibbling on the corals? The sounds they make are very endearing. I wish we could have stayed down longer.” Pouting, he added: “Why do humans have to breathe, this is utterly inconvenient.” He tilted his head. “I was never aware that the ocean was such a pleasant place to be in.” “So you liked it?” Dean asked with a big grin, happy to see Cas this excited. “I loved it” Cas admitted, biting his lower lip. “Thank you for pushing me to do this”. He pulled Dean into a tight hug. Dean cupped Cas’ face gently and gave him a soft peck. “Thank you for getting over your fear and sharing this experience with me. It was wonderful.” Then quietly, he added: “You’re wonderful Cas. I love you.” Pulling Dean in for another kiss, Cas whispered against his lips: “I love you too, Dean.” His lips tasted like salt and Dean pushed against them hungrily, making up for the last hour that they didn’t have the chance to kiss. As they finally pulled apart, they leaned their heads against each other, breathless but happy.

They linked their hands, their wedding rings shimmering in the warm afternoon sun. As they finally attempted to leave the ocean, their knees almost gave in, suddenly unfamiliar with the sensation of their weight after having floated weightlessly in the water. After a short struggle and some giggles, they made it out, helped each other out of their BCDs and dropped into the warm sand.

The rest of the afternoon they just stayed there, holding each other tight, sharing lazy kisses and basking in the warm summer sun. Dean dozed off at some point, exhausted from the dive. Cas watched him sleep, listened to his soft breaths and felt incredibly lucky. He tenderly brushed his fingers over his husband’s sun-kissed freckles, admiring how beautiful he was. He peppered little, ever-so-gentle kisses on every spot he could reach, Dean’s hair, his forehead, his cheeks, his shoulder. He cupped his face and let his thumb slowly trail down to those soft, pouty lips he loved so much. As he lightly brushed over them, Dean turned his head to kiss the palm of Cas’ hand before he searched out his lips. Cas gave him a short, incredibly soft kiss, before pulling away to look at him again. Still sleepy, Dean let out a grumpy groan at the loss of his lips and pulled Cas back down energetically. Cas understood and crushed his lips into Dean’s, turning him on his back and straddling him. Dean buried his hands in Cas’ hair, ruffling it up while he passionately licked into his mouth.

As the sun set over the ocean, they separated, their eyes still burning with desire. Completely out of breath, Dean brushed some lose strands out of Cas’ face and whispered a soft “I love you”.

@bonchickabelle 

Masterpost for “You can have me. Forever.”🤠😇

Click here to read it on ao3!

Just a stupid human tradition: Dean finally talks about his feelings and asks Cas to marry him.

You are my home: Wedding Day!

Beneath the surface: The happy couple is on a honeymoon at the beach and Cas has to overcome an old fear.

Beneath the surface

Part 3 of my Destiel wedding series. 

Click here for the masterpost.

The newlyweds finally go on their beach vacation for their honeymoon and Cas has to overcome an old fear.

~ 1k words

“Dean…” Cas muttered while his husband helped him into the dive gear. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea.” Dean frowned, concentrated on double checking his partner’s equipment. “We had a deal, remember? I agreed to get on a plane just to come here if you’d get over your fear of being underwater and come on a dive with me.” Cas knew Dean was right, he had agreed to this. But feeling the heavy weight of the oxygen tank on his back, he already regretted this decision. Lifting his head, Dean teased him with a grin “How can a multidimensional wavelength of cosmic intent be scared about going for a simple plunge in the ocean?” “Angels were made to fly, not to be trapped under the water”. Dean raised an eyebrow. “Well, humans were not made to fly and I still got onto that plane, didn’t I?” Cas sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. “Come on sunshine. We’ll be right under the surface at the beginning, so if you’re getting anxious, we’ll be up within a split second. I won’t force you to follow through if you’re truly uncomfortable, but at least give it a try?” Cas swallowed hard, then nodded, reaching for Dean’s hand. “Okay, let’s go”.

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This is so damn perfect😭🥰

i live in jersey and the jersey shore means a lot to me. sad about memorial day this year, so have team free will enjoying a much-deserved beach vacation after they defeat god and live happily ever after.

Cas likes the ocean, they discover.

Dean is happy to flop back on a towel with a worn-out paperback and eventually doze off with a beer in his hand. Sam and Eileen wander the surf together, collecting shells and laughing as they splash each other. Jack becomes entranced by the birds, watching the sandpipers skitter and the seagulls swoop near the horizon.

Cas swims.

Cas bobs far out in, past where the waves come in. Every so often, Dean will peer out along the foamy peaks and make sure he can still see Cas’s dark head there. Jack goes out with him, for a bit. When Sam joins them, Dean and Eileen watch with amusement as they splash one other, take turns dunking Cas. Sam teaches Jack how to body surf, how to ride the waves in all the way to the shore, and Cas watches on proudly.

The crowd has thinned considerably as the sun gets lower. The lifeguards put their chairs down and Dean stands. He waves to Sam and Eileen as they make their way up the beach. Jack is picking his way along the pull of lowtide, head tipped to the hazy sky.

The water is nice after a day soaking up the sun and Dean has always been a good swimmer. His strokes cut cleanly through the ocean as he finally comes to Cas. The former angel has a smile all for him and Dean bobs close. “You’re gonna be a full-on mermaid by the end of this trip,” Dean jokes.

Cas blinks at him. The saltwater has his hair plastered to his head except where it’s drawn into spiky tufts. Dean can’t decide whether he wants to smooth it down or mess it up further. “Mermaids aren’t real.”

Dean is about to roll his eyes and tell Cas that he knows that, of course, when he catches the hint of a smile on his face. “You’re such an asshole,” he says instead, scooping his hand to splash Cas.

He laughs brightly at the spray and Dean’s breath catches, like being caught in the undertow. Like a riptide pulling you further and further, to the black of the depth. Like drowning.

Cas is winding up to splash Dean back, but Dean just catches his hand and pulls him close. It’s odd, the bouncing gravity of underwater and their toes just catching in the slip of wet sand. Cas ends up with his chest pitched up against Dean’s, hips set back.

“Sam and Eileen were talking about getting tacos,” Dean says, forehead pressed to Cas’s. Their noses nudge and trade drops of sea water.

“I like tacos,” Cas replies, ridiculously, and then they’re kissing. Dean gets his fingers into Cas’s hair and Cas’s hands tighten in the newly-freckled skin of Dean’s shoulders. The ocean laps around them gently, rocking them toward the shore and then away from it again.

-

They get fish tacos. Jack discovers that he loves cilantro, unlike Dean and Sam. Cas’s hair dries funny from the seawater and Dean can’t stop running his fingers through the messy peaks, rough and slightly sticky from the salt. They end the night sprawled over the oversized couches in their rental’s living room with reruns of I Love Lucy playing in the dark. Sam and Eileen nod toward one another, eyes drifting. Jack long-since fell asleep in the armchair, curled up, with a patch of sunburn across his nose.

Dean falls asleep first, cradled in the well of Cas’s body, chest to chest. His face is burrowed in Cas’s collar, legs tangled through with his, and one hand still in Cas’s hair. Cas watches him sleep for a long stretch of time. There are the sounds of a beach town in mid-June out the window – children yelling excitedly, parents calling, bike bells and dogs barking. Cas listens and, if he pays close enough attention, between the beats of Dean’s heart, he can hear the lull of the ocean in the distance.

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I love this and can’t wait for the next chapter!🥰

Here Comes The Sun

Masterpost link for Reelin’ In The Years: Here

wc: 1.6k Summary: Jack explains to his family that he is uncomfortable in his body.

It was a beautiful afternoon, and even though they were constantly in each other’s spaces at home, Dean recommended a nice family walk with some fresh air. Leaving the bunker, even just for a few minutes, always brightened everyone’s mood, so he brought a football along and even packed a few snacks so they could stay at the park as long as possible.

That morning was a bit rough, considering they all had their appointment with Mia via skype. So Dean just wanted some peaceful R&R before tomorrow when they will be helping Sam with a few cases and the hunting network he is creating with Garth.

Dean noticed other families surrounded them, normal-looking families with a mom, dad, and 2.5 kids, while their little family felt a little out of place. Dean tried not to let it get to him. Favoring to ignore those around them so he could instead enjoy the company of those he loved.

The sun was setting already, and Dean was sitting on the blanket with Cas, who was grinning from ear to ear because Miracle kept climbing onto his lap whenever Dean would lean over to kiss his boyfriend. His lips landing on her fur instead, and then he’ll have to be quick to block her kisses. 

“They even have you against me, princess?” Dean complained when his fifth attempt to kiss his boyfriend was a failure, but Cas did let out a beautiful deep laugh that shook his whole body. It made him look brighter. Angelic, even but he will definitely get punched if he made that comparison out loud. 

Cas hugged her to his chest and hid his face into her fur as she happily wagged her tail. “You don’t want me to kiss someone with gross beef jerky breath, right princess?”

Miracle barked in response and Dean rolled his eyes while Cas laughed louder. 

“Whatever. I’m not making you pancakes anymore, Miracle.”

She barked again before whining, understanding more of Dean’s tone, but sometimes he did wonder if she did understand his words. 

“Dean.” Cas pouted as he scratched Miracle behind her ears. “Apologize. You made her sad.”

Before Dean can open his mouth to apologize – because, of course, he didn’t mean it – Miracle whined again before running from Cas’s reach. 

They both called out to her until they looked to where she ran or who she ran to.

“Jack!” Cas was up as they watched Miracle bark up at Jack, who was not giving her any response. Her bark and whines were getting more desperate as she nudged Jack with her head but still nothing. 

Dean quickly followed after his boyfriend and ran to his son, standing by the water, looking down at his hands. 

Jack usually had nightmares at night, and while sometimes he stared out into space with wide, knowing eyes, he was usually fine.  Mia even said that Jack was opening up more in his last few sessions. She never went into detail, of course, but this did reassure them that he was doing better, but right now, he looked like he had a nightmare while being wide awake. 

Cas reached him and took his hands, flipping them over to check him over, before taking his shoulders to meet his eyes. 

“Jack?” He called out as Dean stood by their side. Jack’s eyes were still far away for a second or two longer before he blinked a few times. His hands roughly touch his face. As if checking if it was still there. “Jack? Are you okay?”

Jack looked between them, trying to focus, and when he opened his mouth to answer, no sound came out. Instead, Jack’s eyes watered before he threw himself at his Dad, almost knocking him down before he cried into Cas’s shoulder. 

Cas and Dean’s shared a worried glance just as Miracle started to cry at Jack’s feet. 

-[Read more under cut]

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La Verdad

Written for Suptober21 day 4: Secrets.

Link to ao3! (1.4K)

All Castiel had to do was remain silent.

On the last case, he did not think about it. The second the witch readied her spell, Castiel shielded Dean from her wrath.

The blast of green light hit Castiel right in his chest, just a few seconds before Sam’s witch-killing bullet killed her. The spellwork tingled as it ran through his body and knocked him off his feet, but he sustained no injuries. The Winchesters were concerned, but Castiel assured them both he was angelic enough to withstand her spell.

That was the truth. Castiel knew it was true because he was incapable of speaking falsehoods.

It seemed that Castiel’s grace— his angelhood— was strong enough for him to survive the more deadly aspects of the spell, but it had faded enough that he still suffered the effect of the curse.

The curse that compelled him to speak the truth.

Castiel could be blunt, or so he had been told by Dean and even Sam a few times. However, this curse wanted to force every last secret out of Castiel’s heart and release it through his mouth.

And there was one secret he was not ready to tell.

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Gonna go cry now.. this is way too soft and beautiful for me to handle! Now I’m overwhelmed😭

Cas gets upset but before he can escape the bunker, Dean finds him and sets it right. Especially for Sana @jactingjoices’ event and the prompt: “I told you so.” Thank you for being such a lovely and talented presence, I’m so happy to know you! <3 Read below or on ao3 (2k)

Castiel stands at the bottom of the bunker stairs and takes a deep breath. And then he takes another. He closes his eyes and tries to think of something else, anything else, but he can’t. Tears are prickling at his eyes and the overwhelming stupidity he feels because of this is only making them multiple. It’s ridiculous to feel so upset over such a small, insignificant thing, but he can’t seem to help it. He sniffs loudly, looking upwards and wondering if he should make a swift exit before anyone sees him. Before he has time to move, he hears footsteps padding softly down the hallway. Too late to make his escape.

He swats hurriedly at his eyes as Dean turns the corner, dressed in his usual sleep attire and dressing gown, his hair sticking out at comical angles from his tired face. The sight of him cheers Cas up instantly, despite the tears still threatening to unleash themselves.

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There’s literally no better fic to start the new year💚💙

Tricks of the Trade

Here it is! The long awaited, and I hope anticipated, fic that I have been working on for THREE FUCKING MONTHS. This started as an inkling of an idea on a random September night in my dorm and now it’s a 90k fic. Oops.

Description: 

“I need you to find me a Dom.” Cas nearly choked on his pizza. “Excuse me?”

Dean wants to see what the world of kinky sex is like so he turns to his best friend and roommate, Castiel Novak, who just so happens to be a Dom at a local BDSM club. Cas is happy to help Dean enter this new world, but when Dean has a bad experience with the Dom he’s paired with at the club, Cas takes it upon himself to show Dean the tricks of the trade. You know, as any good friend would do.

You can find chapter one right HERE on ao3 !! PLEASE READ THE TAGS !! 

I will be updating weekly every FRIDAY, so I hope you’ll stick around :) 

tag list under the cut, ask to be added or removed

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I JUST had the wonderful realization that today‘s Friday, so I came on here and there it was, one of the highlights of my week🥰

Tricks of the Trade

Here it is! The long awaited, and I hope anticipated, fic that I have been working on for THREE FUCKING MONTHS. This started as an inkling of an idea on a random September night in my dorm and now it’s a 90k fic. Oops.

Description: 

“I need you to find me a Dom.” Cas nearly choked on his pizza. “Excuse me?”

Dean wants to see what the world of kinky sex is like so he turns to his best friend and roommate, Castiel Novak, who just so happens to be a Dom at a local BDSM club. Cas is happy to help Dean enter this new world, but when Dean has a bad experience with the Dom he’s paired with at the club, Cas takes it upon himself to show Dean the tricks of the trade. You know, as any good friend would do.

You can find chapter one right HERE on ao3 !! PLEASE READ THE TAGS !! 

I will be updating weekly every FRIDAY, so I hope you’ll stick around :) 

tag list under the cut, ask to be added or removed

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Coming soon: The Destiel AU Reverse Big Bang

Calling all Destiel artists, gif makers and video creators!

One day, @hawkland and @friendofcarlotta were commiserating about how reverse bangs often were full of wonderfully creative AU ideas and scenarios, but it was hard to do them proper justice in the short writing period, and low word count, typically given for reverse bangs. So, we decided to try to launch a reverse Big Bang to fill that void!

Stories & art for this event must be focused on the relationship between Dean and Castiel in some romantic, sexual, or queerplatonic fashion that would qualify as more than simple friendship (ie, you would tag the story and/or art with a “/” and not a “&” on Archive of Our Own). Aro/ace readings of the characters are of course welcome!

Story minimum length requirement: 10,000 words

Art requirement per collaboration: 2 full illustrations or equivalent graphic/video works (For video submissions, 30 seconds per piece or one minute entirety. For gifset submissions, a minimum of 3 gifs per set, 6 in total.)

Banner/title art: Required from artist. (Can be just a crop/edit of the original piece submitted for claims.)

Full rules can be found here, along with the event schedule.

Be sure to follow this blog for future announcements and promos, including when sign-ups open on July 15th!

ghost, zero, suitcase, and the moon

Author: @shineforthee | Artist: @witchy-worm

Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Grief & Loss, Ambiguous Ending, Derealization, Apocalypse, Suicidal Ideation Summary: Dean has always known it was ending. The world, that is. He knew it when he was three, awake and screaming in the middle of the night with the image of fire leaving an afterburn behind his eyelids. He knew it while he learned to ride a bike, while he went to his first school dance, had his first kiss, tipped back his first beer with his dad. He knew it when dad left, too. When Sammy died. When it all began to crumble.

He has always known it was ending. Now he's alone in a cabin somewhere so far north and so far west that he thinks half the continent never knew it existed in the first place, and he's got the same damn nightmares, the same burn behind his eyes, and the sense that ending is a verb that goes on and on into eternity and outside of time.

Excerpt:

There are only five things:

The sky, vibrant violet, swirling clouds like eyes staring, blinking down at him.

Clarity, sharp and unbidden. He wakes as if he’s slept a thousand years, as if he’s never slept before this one singular moment.

With that clarity, pain. Sharp. Unbidden.

Screaming. God there’s screaming and it’s coming from inside him. It’s trying to get out so badly. Ripping from his throat. He didn’t know fish could scream. Didn’t know worms could scream. Didn’t know bones could scream.

The hard rock knuckles are gone from behind and beneath him and whatever has replaced them is palm-soft. He cannot remember the last time something was soft.

Coming to @deancashorrorfest this October

Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest, @hexentaenzerin and I (IncandescentUmbrage) proudly present...

Wicked Muse

Rating: Explicit

Word count: ~15,500

Major Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Ships & tags: Dean/Cas, AU no supernatural, murder husbands, corporate setting by day, torture-y setting by night, and they lived wickedly ever after

Summary:

Castiel Novak is a solitary creature. Corporate engineer by day, serial killer by night, and always by himself. Just the way he likes it. Until a new coworker's long, bowed legs, green eyes, and crooked smile catch his eye. He's certain he'll have to kill Dean, at first. He can't afford distractions, living the double life that he does. When the time comes, though, he just can't bring himself to do it. Artistic inspiration, long dormant in Castiel's life, replaces murderous intent.  As his obsession grows, so too does a newfound wish that he could share the deepest, darkest depths of himself with Dean. That Dean would understand, would accept, would even celebrate Castiel's bloody inclinations. But that's absurd. Unthinkable. Dean isn't like that. Is he?

Teaser:

“Heya,” the new guy said, grinning crookedly as he extended a hand. “Dean Winchester, Quality Control.”

Castiel’s body worked on autopilot as his brain fell into a red-tinged haze. He reached across his desk, catching the other man’s—Dean’s—hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “Castiel Novak, Lead Engineer.”

Dean’s grin grew bright with excited recognition. “Oh, you’re the engineering guy! Awesome! Sounds like we’ll be working pretty closely together. Lookin’ forward to it, man.”

Dean leaned in close to clap a friendly hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel was frozen again, staring up at Dean’s long neck and chiseled jaw. My god, this man would be gorgeous even dead. Especially dead.

“Well, it’s getting late, and we’ve still got quite a few people to introduce you to, Dean. Shall we get moving?” Nathaniel’s voice cut in, jolting Castiel out of his daze.

“Sure thing. Great to meet you, Cas!”

As quickly as they arrived, the two men were gone again, leaving Castiel reeling at his desk. A flurry of thoughts whirled through his mind, each as intangibly fleeting as a snowflake in the air.

Dean was beautiful.

My work needs no one’s quality control.

He hadn’t even minded when Dean had called him ‘Cas.’ It was a jarring contrast to the murderous rage that rose within him every time Ash did the same.

He’s a distraction. Don’t let a pretty face pull your focus.

But, god, what a face. And shoulders… chest… legs. He could wrap those legs around himself and take his pleasure from Dean’s writhing body, just before picking up his knife and—

Castiel huffed out a breath, raking a hand through his already-wild hair as the inevitable conclusion crept into his consciousness. Yes, his day job was boring as shit, simply a means to an end. His real work, the calling he fulfilled on his own time, that was the mission he’d always felt was worth his devotion. A beautiful man shouldn’t—couldn’t—change that. It was settled, then.

Dean Winchester had to die.

While the warm wind blows through the Eastern Halls, the Angel tends to the Dead. 

Dean / Cas Horrorfest presents: 

The Forgotten Halls

Art by @thestarsmakemedream-art Story by allthismusic 

Rated: T  Word count: 9k

Tags/Warnings: Inspired by Piranesi by Susannah Clarke, post-canon, the Empty, amnesia, non-euclidean space

Summary: A long time from now — maybe decades, maybe centuries — there are only the Halls, and the Entity, and the Angel. They exist in harmony, mostly. When an outsider changes their routine, a routine so long-standing that the Angel remembers nothing that had come before it, the disturbance will threaten the fabric of their entire universe.

Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest 

Preview: 

“You could be like them,” the Entity says when it comes upon the Angel gently moving the remains of a boy in red clothing so that he does not get washed away by the next tide. The Angel looks up from his task to greet his visitor. “Still, you do not rest,” the Entity says. Its face is familiar to the Angel in a way that reminds him of his own, but there’s something about it, something behind it that seems to shift and change and somehow makes the Angel feel as though he is looking through the Entity rather than at it.  “They need me,” the Angel explains. “And you have asked me to observe the Halls.”  “Your selflessness knows no bounds,” the Entity says dryly. The Angel does not understand why this does not sound like a compliment. “But yes. If you cannot find it in yourself to diminish, then it is very useful for you to expand our knowledge of these… Halls.”  The Angel follows the Entity’s gaze around the Halls, with its dark recesses and its gothic arches. There are three statues in the chamber where the Red-Clothing Boy rests: a sweet-looking cherub, a lion’s-head bust, and an intricately carved bird that the Angel thinks might be a phoenix. It is one of the most interesting chambers of the Halls, but the Entity’s eyes seem to slide past its elaborate statues and its intriguing nooks and crannies. “Have you seen anyone else here?” the Entity asks. Its tone is carefully calm, but there is a metallic scrape to its words that betrays a sense of intensity.  “Yes, of course,” the Angel says, and the Entity looks taken aback. But when he starts reminding his visitor of the other Dead, like the Red-Clothing Boy, who dwell stilly and silently within the Halls, it quickly becomes clear that the Angel’s charges are not who the Entity is asking about.  “There are Others who seek to find this place,” the Entity explains gravely. “There may be as many as three, but I think only one will come. The Hunter.”  “What is he hunting?” the Angel asks.  “You,” the Entity says, and though a hint of threat is present in its answer, the Angel feels unexpectedly hopeful. “Me,” the Entity continues. “These Halls… if the Hunter finds his way here, the very architecture of this place is in danger, along with all its inhabitants. If you see him, you must tell me immediately, and you must not speak to him.”

My first Destiel fic! In which Dean and Cas watch Indiana Jones and the movie inspires them to have their first kiss a la Indy and Marian. There is also hurt/comfort, angel healing and general fluffy sweetness. G rated, no smut. Oneshot, 3.5k.

It’s strange, Dean decides, that nervousness still exists in Heaven. Isn’t it supposed to be all rainbows and happiness and lollipops? Maybe he should have a word with Jack about it. He’s considering whether or not it’s too late to back out when Sam appears from nowhere, punching him in the shoulder.

“Hey,” Dean protests, rubbing the sore spot. He was definitely adding “pain from being punched by my asshole brother” to his list of things that don’t belong in Heaven. “What was that for?”

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Sam announces, much too loudly in his opinion.

“Am not.” Absently fidgeting with his tie, he glares at the door of Harvelle’s like it might bite him. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Sam lets out his trademarked long-suffering sigh. “Yes, you can. Look, here’s the bridesmaids.”

Sure enough, there’s Charlie and Jo gossiping in their matching blue dresses, Kevin hovering awkwardly next to an incredibly excited Jack. Even though he’s God, it is the kid’s first wedding, and Dean’s pretty sure he’s more enthusiastic than anyone else. Honestly, it looks like Kevin is having regrets about being there. If they weren’t already dead, he’d be worried that the dude might have a heart attack.

“We ready?” Sam asks, ignoring Dean practically vibrating with nerves next to him.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Charlie cheers, and all of a sudden the doors are swinging open and there’s no backing out now and the show is very much on the road.

Dean takes a deep breath, feet rooted to the spot, before Sam gives him a gentle shove in the right direction and instinct takes over. When he turns the corner, his eyes automatically search the crowd, skimming over a hundred familiar faces - Ellen and Jody and his mom and Bobby and all the other people they could fit into the bar - until he finds the one person he is searching for, and he immediately relaxes.

Cas is stood in the center of the room, his usual suit appropriately spruced up by Ellen, and when he meets Dean’s eyes a wide grin splits across his face and Dean’s heart melts. All the worry he had felt stood outside disappeared in a flash, and he finds his face twisting into a matching smile.

“You folks ready to get married?” Ash asks, who is somehow the only person qualified to officiate weddings (not that the formality mattered that much).

“I am,” Cas smiles, taking Dean’s hands into his.

“Me too,” Dean agrees, and there’s no place he would rather be.

Season 16, Time For A Wedding!

Thank you so much to all the (many) people who helped me come up with ideas for this fic, and to @lateral-org for beta-ing!

Read on AO3.

If you weren’t expecting chaos at the wedding, then you had never met the Winchesters.

Still, that didn’t hold up as an excuse against a fairly annoyed Ellen Harvelle, when a rumpled and out of breath Charlie and Jo arrive at the Roadhouse to get dressed a full forty seven minutes later than they are supposed to.

“Joanna Beth, where have you been?” she demands, her eyebrows practically disappearing off the top of her head when the two girls sheepishly push open the heavy double doors of the bar.

“Sorry, Ms H! We slept in,” Charlie beams, apparently too excited about the wedding to notice her wild bedhead.

Ellen doesn’t move from her stance, arms still folded skeptically across her chest. “Both of you?”

Neither of them respond, but Jo’s blush answers for them. The room is deadly silent for an uncomfortably long minute, the creak of the old wooden floors the only sound to ease the awkwardness.

“UNO!” Kaia yells, starting everyone. She scratches the back of her neck, gesturing at the pack of cards between her and Alex. “Sorry. It’s the first game I’ve won all morning.”

“Who says you won?” Alex replies calmly, placing down a +4 card with a practiced yawn. “Uno.”

“I hate you,” Kaia grumbles, but the game is over within a minute, and Jody arrives to usher them into their bridesmaid dresses before another one can start. They’re a pale blue, to fit with the unofficial blue and green theme, and hover elegantly off their shoulders.

“Oh, girls,” Donna coos when she sees them, Charlie giving her a little dramatic twirl. “You look gorgeous!”

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Tag list under the cut (ask to be added or removed!):

@exmintha​ @destielray​ @wantstoflyafraidtofall​ @interrogatethecat​ @jackcoded​ @i-feel-only-pain​ @spn-but-juh​ @destielwentcanonomg​ @wearealltrashhere​

Season 16, Time For A Wedding!

The next chapter is up! It’s a bit of a filler, but there is plenty of chaos to come and I had to have Dean and Bobby having a conversation, okay.

Listen to the playlist!

Dean Winchester’s wedding… if he was being completely honest, Bobby never thought he would see the day. In the end, he guesses he didn’t live to see it, exactly, but this is as good as it’s gonna get, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You good with getting Dean there on time?” Sam asks for the millionth time, hovering by the door.

“The same answer as the last twenty times ya asked,” he grumbles in reply. “Now get outta here, or you’ll miss the damn thing.”

Sam nods, shoots him a nervous but grateful smile, and then disappears after his girl. If everything goes right, they won’t see him again until he is standing at the end of the aisle. Bobby’s vaguely aware that he should be surprised Sam can legally officiate a wedding, but there’s a big chance that absolutely nothing at this wedding is gonna be legal, and nothing his boys do or say can surprise him at this point. He’s pretty sure he lost his ability to be shocked after Dean casually mentioned killing Hitler.

“I don’t get it,” Dean announces, abruptly swinging the bathroom door open. “Why can’t I see Cas again?”

Bobby shrugs. “Tradition.”

“Tradition’s just peer pressure from dead people,” Dean mumbles, and Bobby raises an eyebrow.

“You gettin’ ready or what?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean slams the door shut again, disappearing to have another nervous breakdown or whatever else was taking the idjit so damn long.

Continue reading on AO3.

Tag list under the cut (ask to be added or removed!):

@exmintha​ @destielray​ @wantstoflyafraidtofall​ @interrogatethecat​ @jackcoded​ @i-feel-only-pain​ @spn-but-juh​ @destielwentcanonomg​ @wearealltrashhere​