thanks @akaalaisabel for the tag! here’s my shameless self promotion
Rules: post the beginning lines of your most recent 10 published fanfics (or chapters, if you don't have 10 fics), then attempt to tag 10 people!
(all of these are destiel)
asperges me (4k canon divergence)
It’s strange, Dean thinks, looking down at Cas, this reversal of their roles. It’s not that it feels wrong per se, but it’s new, and newness is always accompanied by an adjustment period. Normally it’s him who’s on his knees, looking up at Cas with something akin to worship in his eyes, never the other way around. Although, he supposes, it’s more of an inversion of their positions rather than a reversal of their roles; Cas might be the one kneeling between his spread legs, but Dean, knuckles white where he grips the arms of his chair, is the one having to make the concerted effort not to squirm under the weight of the other’s heavy gaze.
something magic about you (9k 1950s circus au)
THE MAGNIFICENT CASTIEL NOVAK , the newspaper headline practically screams, the words splashed across the front page. The black and white photos beneath it look as though they’re about to come to life, dynamic in a way that feels foreign to photography. “At only 25 years of age,” the article reads, “magician Castiel Novak is already making a name for himself across the nation with his show-stopping, revolutionary performances.”
Dean tosses the newspaper back onto the desk with a scowl. “Seriously, Gabe?” he asks, crossing his arms. “This guy?”
pi(e) (3k bakery au meet cute)
The bell tinkles above Castiel’s head as he opens the door. Stepping inside, away from the bitter cold and biting wind, he’s welcomed, ushered into the warmth, by the sweet scents of buttery, sugary pastries and the tart tang of fruit and berries being cooked. He casts a cursory glance around, taking in the cheery space- there are tables with mismatched chairs that, despite clearly being from different sets, somehow compliment each other, artsy photos of pies, along with strings of tiny fairy lights on the walls, the pops of color from berries bursting out of golden brown crusts standing out against the cream colored paint.
snow angels (4k canon divergence)
The Bunker is eerily quiet when Castiel steps into the hallway, careful to keep his steps soft, something he’s never had to worry about before now. Most of the lights are off, all signs of life shelved for the night. As he pads down the hallway, he pauses in front of Dean’s door, pressing his ear to the wood. It’s quiet, no sounds of restless movement, and there’s no light coming from the small space between it and the floor. Odd, perhaps, as he knows Dean doesn’t sleep much, but he sends up a silent prayer of thanks that he’s finally getting some much needed rest.
fall on your knees (o hear the angel voices) (6k no supernatural christmas au)
Pulling the small leather pouch out of its hiding spot at the bottom of his suitcase, Cas stares longingly at the booklet of rolling papers. God, he would give anything to smoke a joint right now. There’s not enough time for him to smoke, shower, and get ready for Mass, not to mention the fact that if Mom catches so much as a whiff of what might be weed, there’ll be hell to pay. Despite the fact that it’s legal and he’s a grown ass adult, thank you very much.
love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling (21k post canon fix it)
Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine non sum dignus should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it.
When all is said and done, Dean goes on a drive.
fake it til you make it (15k fake dating au)
Castiel stares morosely at the blinking cursor on the mostly blank document in front of him. Just when he had finally figured out the direction he wanted to take the next installment, he found himself unable to write more than a couple paragraphs, if that, in a day. Not to mention that for the past week or so, ‘writing’ has consisted of typing a couple hundred unsatisfactory words, then deleting a thousand. One step forward, seven steps back, or whatever the saying is.
resurrexit, alleluia (2k canon compliant lazarus rising coda)
Et valde mane una sabbatorum, veniunt ad momentum, orto jam sole, alleluia / And very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they came to the sepulcher, the sun being now risen, alleluia
Dean takes a deep breath, stale air flooding his lungs. Despite the slightly sour taste it leaves on his tongue, he can’t get enough of it. His chest rises and falls with each blessed breath.
to thine own self be true (30k accidental mating omegaverse)
The first thing Dean notices is how sore he is. All over, but especially his quads. It’s too early to care, though, so he closes his eyes and moves closer to the warm body pressed up behind him. A bare arm wraps around his waist, pulling him even closer.
Dean’s eyes shoot open. He scrambles back, narrowly avoiding falling completely off the bed. There’s a guy in his bed. A very hot, very alpha, very naked guy. What the fuck.
time means nothing to an eternal being (2k canon divergence)
Normally, the Mark on Castiel’s arm is nothing but a dull ache. While annoying, it’s easy to handle, easy to push away the quiet voice suggesting how nice it would feel to run someone through with a blade.
It gets worse, Dean had told him.
absolutely no pressure tags @icaruspendragon @alstroemeriatea @father-salmon @bethlovescas @chaoticdean @artyphex @malicmalic
gummygunk
prguitarman
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
