d e s t i n y ;
we ripped up the ending... and rules... and destiny... leaving nothing but freedom and choice.
Need (AO3)
Summary: Dean is away on a hunt and Castiel takes the time to look around his bedroom. PWP.
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 2,361
Tags: Canon, Established Relationship, PWP, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex.
Square: “I missed you.”
Created for the Destiel Smut Bingo
Castiel closed the door to Dean’s bedroom behind him with a soft exhale. The atmosphere changed immediately, and he felt himself relax in a way he hadn’t all week. This was like coming home. He recognised even the minute details of Dean’s room without having to look too closely. The array of guns on the wall, the scent of leather and gunpowder and a little bit of motor oil that usually lingered on his clothes from when he worked on the Impala. There was also a clean smell, a freshness that betrayed exactly how much Dean liked his space to be clean.
He sat on the mattress gently, aware that this was Dean’s living space, not his own. Despite their change in relationship status over the last few months, they still kept separate bedrooms for when they wanted to be alone. This room was solely Dean’s, although Castiel found that they both slept here together most of the time. His hands splayed across the blankets, appreciating the softness of the material. It felt nice under his hands. He knew from experience it felt nice against his skin too, when he was splayed out, thighs parted, and fingers curling around the blankets for purchase–
Castiel flushed and got to his feet. Was it warm in here? It was definitely warm in here. Maybe he’d left the heat on. He knew he hadn’t, but was trying not to get too caught up in memories. Castiel pulled off his tie, opening a few of the buttons on his shirt and laying his jacket across the chair neatly. Dean and Sam were on their way back from hunting down a chimaera in Missouri, so it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Dean would want him to sleep here tonight. They’d been parted for a few days and Dean was riding the high from a successful hunt. No doubt they’d end up right back in here shortly after he returned.
I’m so honoured to have been able to work with the lovely @envydean to create a piece of art for a truly wonderful fic. I’m not an artist by any stretch, so while I couldn’t draw or paint something, I hope the digital manip I created was still a good representation of the beautiful imagery Jenny created within her fic.
You should definitely read it! | Don’t Let Go
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100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #36
“We’ll figure it out.”
Summary: Five times Dean told Cas they’d figure it out, and one time he didn’t need to. College AU. [AO3]
Thanks to @profound-boning and @envydean for being amazing betas.
1.
Dean heaved his suitcase up the stairs, swiping at his brow. California wasn’t as hot as he’d expected, at least in the Bay Area. Still, the act of lugging most of his worldly possessions up the stairs of his new dorm room, his home for the next year, was hard work. To add insult to injury, Stanford didn’t provide air conditioning.
It had been a complete surprise when he’d been accepted into Stanford. Both his plan to apply and the improvement of Dean’s grades had been quite a recent development. He had to set an example for Sammy, after all, and if that only bettered himself in the long run then that was a bonus too. It was different, to not have his mom or Sam around him every day, but it would be an experience too. A chance to be independent, to meet new people. Starting with his new roommate.
Dean pushed open the door to his room cautiously, hesitating once he saw that half of the room had already been claimed and that the bathroom light was on. Not wanting to just walk in unannounced, he cleared his throat as he let the door swing closed behind him.
“Hey, anyone here?”
There was an intake of breath and the unmistakable sound of toiletries clattering into the sink, and then his new roommate emerged from the bathroom. Dean was surprised by how normal he looked, having expected the worst. The guy was of similar height to Dean, wearing regular sneakers, faded jeans and a plain t-shirt. His hair was dark and stuck up at all angles, and Dean spent a second wondering if it was artfully tousled or uncooperative bedhead.
“Hello. You must be my new roommate. I’m Castiel.”
100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #56
“It brings out your eyes.”
Summary: Head Chef Dean Winchester has been waiting for years for renowned food critic Castiel Novak to visit his restaurant. [AO3]
Castiel glanced over the menu with a raised eyebrow. As the most renowned food critic in the Midwest, he’d seen his fair share of extravagant menus. Some of them had delivered on it, others had not. This one was promising, and he had high hopes it would deliver the absolute perfection he had come to anticipate in his line of work.
Seeing the server approach, Castiel set down his menu and picked up the wine list, glancing over it briefly. Since he’d be sampling mostly red meat that evening, he selected a nice Barolo to accompany his meal. He smiled politely at the server, a redhead woman who had a slight pinch between her brows despite her perfect smile. Her eyes remained on Castiel’s face as she scrawled on her notebook, as if she was trying to place where she recognised him.
“I’ll just get your wine for you, sir, and be back to take your order.” She disappeared for a few moments, leaving Castiel to glance around the restaurant.
It was a warm décor, rich reds and golds, the surfaces of the tables and bar giving a more rustic feel to the restaurant. The owner and head chef, one Dean Winchester had worked hard to build Petit Impala from nothing. He’d succeeded in a competitive business and it was damn near impossible to get a table. Even now, he could see the busy servers running around an almost-full dining room.
When the server – Charlie, Castiel noted from her nametag – returned with his wine, Castiel reached for the glass, swirling the burgundy liquid and holding it under his nose, inhaling deeply. He took a small sip, allowing the subtle flavours to envelope his palate. Rich, full-bodied, exactly what he wanted. He could even taste the rose tar undertone and the dried herbs in the aftertaste.
“It’s perfect, thank you,” he murmured, settling the glass back down so Charlie could pour.
To be updated as more challenges add their entry posts!
Castiel Graphics Challenge
Theme: Colour Palettes
Entry Post: Here
DeanCas Creations Challenge
Theme: Poetry
Entry Post: Here
Gif Battle Challenge
Theme: Favourite Character
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Multifandom Graphics Challenge
Theme: Locations
Entry Post: Here
Sam Creations Challenge
Theme: Playlists
Entry Post: Here
Supernatural Color Challenge
Theme: Colours
Entry Post: Here
Supernatural Creations Challenge
Theme: Wayward Sisters
Entry Post: Here
Supernatural Edits Challenge
Theme: Sam Winchester’s Outfits
Entry Post: Here
Supernatural Icons Creations Challenge
Theme: Relationships
Entry Post: Released Early February
Supernatural Poetry Challenge
Theme: Clothing
Entry Post: Here
Dean doesn’t have a soulmate, but if he did, he swears it would be Castiel Novak. [AO3]
Requested by @stardustsam [requests?]
With a heavy sigh, Dean lifts up his head and signals the bartender to pour him another.
He glances around while he’s waiting, and instantly regrets his decision. Couples, everywhere. Wrapped in each other’s arms, engrossed in their conversations, even making out in one particular case. Gross. Dean’s tempted to tell them to get a room, but even he can’t muster up the bitterness over someone else’s happiness. He’s just bitter he’ll never get his own.
As if to taunt him further, the bartender’s sleeve rides up as she pours the whiskey bottle, displaying her timer.
00:05:32.
Less than six minutes to go until she meets her soulmate.
Nobody is really sure how the timers work. They’re etched into the skin from birth, small black digits on the wrist that count down until the moment that person meets their soulmate.
“Five minutes, huh?” Dean comments, draining the glass in one and gesturing for another. “You excited?”
The bartender colours and little bit, but shoots a nervous smile in Dean’s direction. “More like cautiously optimistic. I mean, we’re supposed to be made for each other, right? That can only be a good thing.”
“Sure,” Dean agrees easily, throwing back the second drink, shooting her a sideways smirk. “One more for the road, so I don’t take your attention away from your soulmate? I better get home.”
“Got your soulmate at home waiting for you?” The bartender smiles, gesturing to Dean’s arm, which is covered by the sleeves of his jacket.
Dean and Castiel bring in the New Year with no regrets. 1.1k
There’s ten minutes left of 2017.
They’re with Jody and Donna, so Castiel could check in on Claire for Christmas. That was the excuse anyway. In reality, they all wanted to check on Claire and the other girls. The holidays were a time for family, after all. Besides, it had been a difficult year for all of them. To bring in the new year surrounded by family, whatever variation of family that might be to each of them, was a sign of hope to all.
Sam and Jody are setting up fireworks in the middle of a field, far away from the public eye. It brings back memories for Dean, sitting on top of the Impala when Sam was just a kid. Hell, he’d still been a kid himself. It feels like a lifetime ago.
He pulls a beer out of the cooler, popping off the lid with ease and taking a long drink. It’s his fourth of the night, but he’s building up some courage.
There’s nine minutes to midnight, and he still hasn’t asked Castiel to be his New Year kiss.
He’ll probably chicken out, press a smooth kiss to Donna’s cheek and shoot her a wink. It’s his way, after all. For now, he’s allowing himself nine minutes of denial, nine minutes of fantasy.
He sees himself walking up to Castiel, cupping his cheek, closing the gap between them. He sees himself pulling back, a look of awe and happiness on Castiel’s face. He can practically feel their fingers interlocking as a sign of promise.
For @bubblemish - winner of Best Mobile Theme in my tumblr awards - who requested a destiel professor AU :) this kind of got away from me at 5.6k omg.
Five times literature professor Castiel Novak clashed with physics professor Dean Winchester and one time he didn’t.
1.
Castiel sighed as he sipped his tea, the scent of warm spices and an unmistakeable rose undertone creating a satisfying sensation of bliss. This, this was what he needed. Three hours of grading college sophomore papers on Dickens might sound like sheer hell to some people, and they’d be right. For all he loved teaching Literature at KSU, it was clear some of the students had taken the wrong kind of tips of Dickens – who had been paid by the word – and used the most complex sentences for the most basic point. It was a little tedious at times.
Which was why this little tea-centred haven was one of the finer points of Castiel’s lunch break on Wednesdays. He had a scheduled research period for his own papers, and often made the drive across down to settle here with his laptop and briefcase. The welcoming aura of the tea shop along with the countless flavours made for a perfect, relaxing afternoon.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, and was just about to take a sip when he was startled by the abrupt sound of a drum beat and loud, accompanying music.
A moment later, he recognised it as the beginning to a Led Zeppelin track, and opened his eyes, looking around for its origin. Everyone in the tea shop turned in his direction, glaring. Befuddled, knowing the music definitely wasn’t coming from him, Castiel rose, looking under his seat and discovering the source of the disturbance.
A ringing cell phone. An ancient one at that. Castiel may have been out of touch with modern technology, but even he knew that phones hadn’t flipped open since the early 2000’s.
He stared blankly at the ringing phone, wondering how to silence it. When the song progressed into the unmistakeable wailing of Robert Plant and the glares of the surrounding customers became more pronounced, Castiel flipped open the phone to seek a way to end the call and his subsequent misplaced embarrassment.
Of course, flipping the phone answered the call, so now Castiel was uncomfortably holding a phone while hearing a muffled voice call out in greeting.
Hesitantly, he pressed it to his ear. What else could he do?
“Hello?”
“Hey, uh, you have my phone?”
Castiel’s lips parted in realisation, and he awkwardly shuffled on the spot before promptly retaking his seat. “Ah, yes. It appears you left it under the seat in the Tea Caddy.”
“In a tea caddy?” The voice repeated in disbelief. “I don’t even own a tea… oh! You mean the frou-frou tea place that my brother dragged me to this morning?
Castiel bristled. “Yes,” he replied, testily. “The frou-frou tea place which I am clearly a patron of, allowing me to find your cell phone in the first place.”
Silence.
“Ah.”
Castiel waited.
“No offence, man. Tea just isn’t my thing. No judgement here,” the man on the other end of the phone added, hurriedly. “Could you just hand it over to one of the staff there and find out when they close? I teach at KSU and I can’t get back there until my last lecturer finishes at six.”
Surprised, Castiel paused for a moment. “They close at five thirty on Wednesdays. Did you say you’re a professor at KSU? As it happens, I teach Literature there, and I’ll be back within the hour if you’d like me to bring it. You could retrieve it from my office at six?”
“That would be great,” the man sighed, obviously relieved that he wouldn’t have to wait until the next day to retrieve his phone from all the way across town. “So I just head to the Literature department and I’ll find your office?”
“Yes. Second floor, end of the hallway, first door on the right. Professor Castiel Novak. If you’ll excuse me, my tea is getting cold. I will expect you shortly after six pm. Goodbye.”
He hung the phone up awkwardly, staring at it for a moment before pocketing it and reaching for his tea. He pulled a face at the temperature. Cold. Pursing his lips, Castiel rose to order a fresh cup. He’d even order something extra fancy, in defiance of his supposed colleague’s condescending tone about Castiel’s favourite tea shop. Thinking about it again made him grit his teeth, and he pushed all thoughts of the rude stranger out of his head as he headed to the counter.
Perhaps something soothing was in order. Lavender, maybe.
Coda - 13x01 Lost and Found
“Anything?”
The word echoed in Dean’s head and made his chest ache even more that it already was. He didn’t even think that was possible, for the loss of Castiel to bring him more pain.
And yet.
He’d allowed himself to hope. For one split-second, he thought maybe this could all be undone and there would be a way to bring Cas back to life.
Back to him.
It was stupid, of course it was. And yet, Cas had brought Bobby back from the dead once before. Raised both him and Sam from the pit. If this kid was so powerful that the angels wanted him, then maybe it was possible.
The hope cut deeper than the loss, knowing that his prayers to Chuck had gone unanswered. That God had truly done his last favour for them. Brought Cas back for the last time.
He was gone.
It didn’t truly sink in until he drew the covers back and looked at Castiel’s face one last time. This wasn’t Cas. It was an empty shell. The best friend, the man, the angel, the everything he once knew was no longer contained in an empty vessel.
Dean didn’t let anyone else touch the body. He bound Castiel himself, built the funeral pyre from scratch while Sam and Jack watched, the tension in his body just daring them to offer to help. He built the whole thing alone, carried Cas to the top of the pyre and tried to ignore the coldness seeping through the sheets.
The fire blazed brilliant. Beautiful. Destructive.
Just like Castiel.
Dean couldn’t think of a more fitting goodbye.
I’m writing a professor AU destiel oneshot by request :D would anyone like to be tagged in it when I post?
#80 “Is your seatbelt on?”
Aviophobia (AO3) (1800 words)
Summary: Castiel loves to fly so much that he does it for a living. Dean is terrified of getting on a plane. When this major difference begins to affect their relationship, Dean has a difficult choice to make.
“Hello, Dean,”
With just those words, Dean’s heart sank. It wasn’t the words themselves that brought about the melancholy feeling in his chest. No, it was the tone in which the words were said, filled with a resignation that was all too familiar at this juncture. He didn’t even need to ask why Cas was calling when he should be home within an hour or two. There was only one reason.
“Where this time?” Dean asked, wearily.
“Barbados. Until next Thursday. Dean, I’m sorry, there’s nobody else…”
“Bullshit!” Dean snapped, his temper flaring out of disappointment. “That’s a load of bull, Cas, and you know it. You’re telling me there’s not a single other flight attendant that can fly to Barbados for the next week instead of you?”
Silence. It went on so long that Dean wasn’t sure if they’d lost connection or if Castiel had hung up on him. When he spoke again, Castiel’s tone was wary, placating. “You know my job requires me to be flexible with my hours.”
Dean slumped on the couch of their suddenly stifling apartment, the heel of his free hand pressing into his eyes as if to prevent the impending migraine from a long-time argument taking hold. He felt weak, a pressure in his chest draining all of his energy. This happened so often now, Castiel hadn’t been home longer than a few days in the last three months.
“Yeah, I know. But I’m sure you can say ‘no’ occasionally. We’ve had this reservation for weeks. It’s Sam’s birthday tomorrow, and I was – he was – looking forward to having a family dinner. All of us together.”
“I’m sorry. Will you pass on my regrets to Sam too? I’m sure he’ll understand. You can still go.”
The guilty verdict wasn’t a surprise. Castiel had known the entire time that the trial was just a formality, that he would be found guilty regardless of his plea. He’d been counting on that. None of his family had showed up to the sentencing, but he suspected they were watching it on TV. The whole thing had been televised, after all, the sensational killing of Zachariah Adler by his own nephew.
Imprisoned for the murder of his uncle, Castiel Novak struggles to adapt to a life behind bars. The arrival of his new cellmate stirs up feelings Castiel didn’t even know he he had, and leaves him wondering if he can still get a happy ending after all.
[A/N] I’m finally going to start publishing this on AO3! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in updates about it! Chapter one will be up within the next week or so!
Oh God, I’ve never written fantasy before, but I hope this is okay?
Castiel came to, aware of a few things simultaneously. First, his head was killing him. A warm, sticky substance was trickling down into his half-closed eyes. Blood then. The second thing Castiel noticed was that he was freezing, a chilliness to his surroundings that was forcing shivers to wrack through his body. He forced his eyes open, instantly noticing two more things. The first was that he was not in his bedroom at the palace, under the warm, thick blankets of his four-poster bed, and was instead on the floor of some kind of cage. The second was that he was not alone.
He recoiled as his captor struck one of the iron bars of his crate. Knees pressed to his chest, Castiel hissed instinctively, baring his sharp teeth and pointed tongue.
“You don’t scare me, little dragon. Your prince is the fighter, not you. And he’s not here to protect you now, hmm? Don’t worry, he’ll never find you.”
The words cut deep, slicing through the one fear that Castiel had felt deep inside since he’d realised his situation. He lashed out with his claws, eyes glowing blue with a hint of arcane magic.
“Release me. I am worthless. The King will never pay a ransom for me.” No matter how much his son begs, Castiel thought privately.
The resulting laughter was cold, calculated, cruel. His captor straightened up, barely acknowledging where Castiel’s claws had scraped over the flesh of his forearm, drawing blood.
“We don’t need the king to pay your ransom, little dragon. Your scales will fetch a pretty penny. Once we carve them from your body, of course.” He gestured to the sapphire scales that spread from Castiel’s neck, down his back and over his thighs and tail.
Horror flooded Castiel’s body, his blood running cold at the words. Dragon scales were priceless, true enough, but –
“I’m only half-dragon! I’m part human. No way my scales will fetch the price you’re hoping for. Please, just – just let me go. I – I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Castiel wasn’t even fooling himself, his voice shaking as he tried to feebly intimidate his guard. He thought of his scarred, broken body once the scales were carved from him. He thought of Dean, turning away from him once he was no longer whole.
He didn’t get to pursue that train of thought, however as a roar from the entrance of his prison drew his attention. Castiel was barely aware of the tears of relief pricking his eyes as he recognised the armour of his own prince, caught in combat with the captor. Dean had come for him. Love swelled in his chest, pushing away the insecurities of earlier. Dean would always come for him, Dean loved him unconditionally.
It was barely a fight. Dean had motivation in spades to win, and there wasn’t a knight in the kingdom that could match the prince’s strength, and pretty soon Dean was unlocking the hatch to Castiel’s cage.
“Are you okay, Cas?”
Castiel nodded, throwing his arms around Dean and burying his face into his neck. Claws dug deep, piercing the armour, but if Dean was in pain or suffered any discomfort, he didn’t show it.
“Let’s get you home.”
Castiel nodded again, feeling a small smile touch his lips. There was nothing he’d like more.
Visions (AO3) (2791 words)
Summary: Five times Dean saw his future in a vision, and one time he didn’t need to.
1.
The first time it happens, they’ve just pulled into a gas station outside on to the way to Sioux Falls.
They’d just finished up a hunt. It wasn’t Dean’s first, or his second, but it hadn’t been many more than that. Sam had been left with Bobby, too young to tag along. He’d have slowed them down, distracted both of them.
John cuts the engine, tells Dean he did good and he’ll get him some candy. Dean, still a little shaken from the claws that had been much too close for his liking, just nods. He’s staring out of the window, trying to collect his thoughts. Another car pulls up beside them and Dean watches the guy get out, looking around nervously as he walks into the gas station.
John is fumbling with his wallet, and Dean sees him pull out a wad of cash, and then the most intense pain he’s ever felt wracks through his head. He doesn’t make a sound, just clutches at it with his hands, and his vision shifts.
He can see the guy working in the gas station, hands trembling as he empties the register for the stranger pointing the gun at him. There’s a pretty girl, young and wearing a white sundress crying in the corner. There’s a distant sound of bullets and bodies hit the floor, blood spilling everywhere. John is lying slumped over the register, a bar of Hershey’s slipping from his grasp, eyes wide open.
Dean starts, sweating and panting, his stomach churning. The sudden urge to vomit overwhelms him, but he forces it down. He’s not sure what just happened, but he knows what he saw, can see it clear as day. His hand flies out, catching John’s wrist in a vice-like grip.
“Dad, don’t go,” he pleads, tugging to stop John from getting out of the car. “Wait, please. You can’t go in there yet.”
John stops, confusion turning to concern when he sees the paleness in Dean’s face, the beads of sweat on his forehead. “Dean? You sick, son?”
Dean shakes his head, refusing to relinquish his grasp on his dad’s arm. “He’s got a gun, that man… he’s gonna shoot everyone inside.”