Separated Cas and Jimmy in the bunker clinging to each other all the time because they got so used to sharing one body. They’re always touching, holding hands, cuddling, casually sitting in each other’s laps while discussing a new case or researching, whispering their most sacred thoughts in each other’s ears like there’s no one else in the room.
Dean is jealous. He isn’t sure if it’s because Cas is so focused on Jimmy, his intense blue gaze Dean was so used to being the only recipient of, now shared with another person. Or if it’s because he can’t walk up to them both and join in on this unique, incomprehensible intimacy.
Meanwhile, Castiel and Jimmy don’t know what to make of their relationship. Whenever they try to be apart, they always end up longing for each other in the end. But they know one thing: Cas loves Dean, and Jimmy spent so long experiencing those feelings alongside him, that even separated, he isn’t sure he doesn’t love Dean, too.
Oooo, can I scratch at your door like a hungry cat and yell for Dean/Cas/Jimmy? As prompt, waking up hungover/disoriented after a night out partying and puzzling out wtf is going on and who all those limbs are attached to.
always for you, hun. <3
oh and wait this is poly, and today is free day for @polyshipweek! I am totally going to pretend this is intentional. It's been so long since I've managed to do ANY prompt days, much less two for one event!
(twincest tw, incest tw, deanjimstiel, modern au, rated Mature. unedited.)
Dean woke up slowly, squinching his face to try to remember how his muscles worked. Judging by the disgusting, cotton-mouthed feel in his mouth, he was somewhere between still drunk and hungover, and judging by the roilly, crampy feeling in his stomach, he had the worst sensations of both states. The only good thing was that the bed was warm - not too hot, but definitely not cold. His body ached in pleasant, familiar ways; an unfamiliar hand rested on his hip and two bare legs were sandwiched between his knees. His memory of the previous evening was blurry, but sensation was enough to tell him that he hadn't come home alone, and whoever it was hadn't left yet.
Awesome combination.
Maybe they could wake up to round 2?
Finally, reluctantly, Dean opened his eyes.
Surprise - not his home. His vision was a little fuzzy but unless he'd developed spontaneous colorblindness, or Sam had come over in the last 24 hours and done a surprise remodeling of Dean's bedroom (which. possible.) there had never been a time when his walls were this shade of yellow and his bedding was red.
A blanket-draped mound beside him shifted, rolled a little, and made a muttering sound.
Oddly, the legs Dean could feel didn't move.
Frowning, he forced himself to consciousness enough to catalog his surroundings more thoroughly.
Unfamiliar decor: check.
Last night's one-night-stand-possibly-also-morning-after-fuck lying before him: check.
Hand on his waist, fingers curling as the person before him shifted: check.
Legs against his legs... the knees would be backward if they belonged to the person before him? No check. Definitely uncheck.
Wait...he SHOULD check.
Whatever were words?
Twisting to look behind him dislodged the hand on him, but Dean couldn't spare it any attention as he stared, wide-eyed, at the sex god lying behind him. The blankets were tucked beneath his shoulder, giving Dean a clear view of ruddy skin, morning stubble, and dark hair a mess of spikes and loose tendrils, the remnants of what must have been an actual style the previous evening. Dean was hot - he knew he was - and that he'd find a hot partner wasn't a surprise, but fucking damn, this guy was incredible.
And was only one of the two other people in the bed.
Drunk Dean had scored a threesome.
Way to hit it out of the park, me.
Dean turned back toward his other partner, and was greeted by brilliant blue eyes blinking back at him. The formerly blanket-cloaked figure was now clearly a man, propped up on an elbow, bleary gaze stunningly beautiful as he looked Dean up and down. From his sun-kissed cheeks to his dark hair to his well-past-five-o'clock shadow, he was indistinguishable from the guy lying behind Dean.
No. That couldn't be right.
Dean must be more still-drunk than he realized.
He looked back over his shoulder at hot-as-fuck dude one.
Still looked the same.
He turned back to hot-as-fuck dude two.
Also the same.
The two were so similar that if Dean didn't know better, he'd think the fucking bed had been bisected by a mirror.
But if that was the case, then I'd have been bisected by a mirror, and ew.
Though...if I was getting bisected by him...by THEM...at least I'd die happy.
No wait, what the fuck, brain no.
"Morning, Dean," said sex god the second and hell that voice was incredible, raspy and deep.
"There are two of you?" Dean managed weakly. Very smart. Great job. A+. Definitely perfectly on track to get fucked by the gorgeous guys...the gorgeous identical twins???...again.
"There are," muttered the same voice from behind him. "Is that a problem?"
"You didn't seem to mind last night," said the one in front him. "I'm Cas, by the way."
"Not even when he was dick-deep in me," added the other one. "And - Jimmy."
"Which is honestly unusual," admitted...hell, Dean couldn't even keep track. They traded dialogue between them so easily that he felt like he was in the world's best fucking echo chamber.
Fucking echo chamber? A chamber of fucking echos? An echo that fucks?
Oh hell, I am definitely still too drunk for this.
"That sounds hot," Dean muttered in a low rumble. "Wish I could remember."
"Really?" Whichever one had spoken sounded genuinely surprised.
"I mean, we could arrange a replay if you mean it..."
"You don't know how fricken rare it is to find a partner who is truly cool with it... with us..."
"I'll own, I was a little worried you were only so into it because you were so smashed that sometimes you seemed to think you were seeing double."
"Waking up with you still here is. reassuring."
"And--"
"Stop talking," Dean groaned. It was too much goddamn noise, beautiful, spectacular, tempting, perfect noise. "So, you fuck each other."
"Frequently."
"And...who fucked me?"
"Both of us," came the smug answer.
"And you're cool with, uh, 'replaying' that this morning?"
"If you are," they agreed simultaneously.
"Oh, hell yeah," said Dean. "Hell, if you want, maybe we can put this show into syndication..."
The laughter that surrounded him was gorgeous.
"It's a little early for commitment..." allowed...Jimmy? Maybe? Was Jimmy the one behind him?
"...but I think I speak for both of us when I say, there's at least a chance for renewal..."
And four hands enveloped Dean, touching his face, his back, his belly, his ass.
"Fuck yeah...let's get this show on the road..." he groaned. His half-drunk hangover was suddenly a world away.
"On one condition," said maybe-Jimmy.
"Anything," Dean said breathily.
"Drop the episode jokes..." maybe-Cas said.
"So...this gig has jumped the shark?"
"Just. Stop. Talking."
"Make me."
And they did.
And, fuck, was Dean sure he was in for the run of his life with these two...
(Oops this got long. *sweat drop*)
(send me a ship and a very short prompt like a genre/trope/kink/setting and I'll supposedly write a three sentence ficlet that'll actually be way longer than three sentences.)
Feeling nostalgic for Supernatural but like…. different?
How about a completed cannon divergence fic that veers off in season 5 and just keeps going from there?
It’s a Destiel fic where Dean and Cas and Jimmy Novak, the man Cas is possessing navigate consent issues, work through trauma (Alastair gets mentioned) and talk about their feelings in various states of undress.
If that sounds like something your interested in, check it out here. If you like what you see, maybe give this post a reblog so others can enjoy too.
It veers off right after the episode The End. So Dean’s fresh out of seeing that horrible possible future. Here’s a short excerpt from the first chapter.
(Read on AO3)
Love Notes Written In Salt And Lipstick
Chapter 1: The End
Dean pulled Cas into a kiss. Didn’t even have to think about it.
Like. Sure Cas had been dead before, splattered across the walls of Chuck’s house like sick modern art. That had been bad, but at least he’d gone out fighting. This time... Dean had watched him die in that bleak, bombed out future Zachariah sent him to, where Lucifer was wearing Sam’s body, and Dean had turned cruel. The sort of person who sent Cas to his death casually. For nothing. For a distraction.
So if right now he was standing on some random deserted street corner in Kanas City with his arms around Cas, trying to protect a body that could take a knife or a bullet without flinching - if he had to kiss him to let him know that he did matter, that this mattered - and say sorry to that other Cas, who a few days ago, five years from now, was throwing orgies he was too high to remember with women whose names he didn’t even know… well. Dean had never been the poster boy for healthy coping mechanisms.
All he knew was Cas’ kiss didn’t taste like smoke or absinthe. It didn’t taste like anything. And Dean kept it going, until he managed to convince himself that it was real. Mostly convince himself.
He broke away. Felt Cas go as silent and rigid as a statue in his arms. Probably, it was a decent idea to back off. But the second he did, one of Cas’ arms curled around him and it was like backing into a wrought-iron fence.
Cas stared at him. Head to the side like he had been asked a question.
“Cas. It’s - I’m…” Dean could do this. “Good to see you. Really, really good timing.”
He could make this right. He could call Sam, tell him he’d been an idiot for saying they should split up. Make it so that nightmare future never happened. Take better care of Cas.
... but then, he knew that he was guilty of looking at Cas and seeing, well, Cas. Not the normal guy who let an angel wear his body. And he was important too. Dean sure couldn’t ignore the broken bits of Jimmy Novak floating around Cas’ head in that awful future. He was still replaying that heart-stopping moment when one of those pieces seemed to surface, and all Jimmy could do was scream.
“Hey Cas…” He wasn't even trying to fight the angelic strength. “Is Jimmy okay?”
Cas looked confused. “You are referring to my vessel?”
“Yeah. You know. Is he... how’s he doing?”
Castiel gave Dean a strange, glazed look. Then the arms holding him shook, the body temperature cooled. Dean had zero idea what was going on, but didn’t have time to do anything about it before the grip around him was different. Now the body leaning against him had a totally normal, totally human amount of strength. And was breathing hard.
Everyone has at least one soulmate mark on their body. Most people have two or more. But most people don’t have soulmarks with two other people’s colors on them.
Dean’s discovered his soulmates on his first day of work at Sandover, but he has no idea who they are because he met so many people the first day. Add to that the gorgeous Mr. Novak (both of them), he really doesn’t know what to do…
Tags
Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationship: Castiel/Jimmy Novak/Dean Winchester
Characters: Castiel, Jimmy Novak (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, mentions of others
Additional Tags: AU-Modern/Sandover, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Platonic Soulmates, Dom/sub Undertones, Jimmy is a Little Shit, Wait there are two of you?
What is it?
A creations challenge (which includes fics, art, vidding, giffing, and any other form of art used for fan creations) just for the Rare Ships (“rare” is anything that isn’t the two main ships). So come and show your love for the ships that never get enough!
What is this month’s theme?
This month’s theme is “Get Your Kicks on Route 66” You can expect prompts that have to do with the classic American summer past-time, road tripping! Almost every character, Winchester or not, has had to road trip to get where they’re going unless they’re an angel or demon. Not to mention with your last mod standing living in a city that prides itself on its connection to the old mother road and the show itself coming down the home stretch it seemed appropriate to pay homage to the roots.
How do we sign up?
- Sign ups end on June 15.
- Please reblog this post.
- Please make sure your ‘submit’ page is turned on or we will not be able to send the prompt.
- Send an ask to the page telling us your choice for ship. (We are allowing you to sign up for up to 3 ships, however this will give you 3 sets of prompts, so please be sure you can complete all of them if you choose to sign up for more than one!).
- You can follow the page, but it’s not required.
What happens when we sign up?
- Around June 17th we will be sending you a submission with your prompt and your partner.
- Remember this is not a collaboration challenge - the partners are simply to get a few different takes on the same prompt!
- You have until August 25th to create your art piece based on this prompt.
*Special Note* No, y’all aren’t seeing things, you have almost the entire summer to pull your fics together. We’re shifting to a quarterly/seasonal rather than monthly format to better accommodate real life and writing for both participants and mod.
Also, for those signed up for Rare Ship or any of the other multitude of bingos out there: Feel free, as long as the rules of the bingo don’t prohibit it, to use your creations here to fill your bingo squares. *winks*
- When you post it, be sure to tag #spnrareshipcc, your partner’s url, and your ship in the first five tags, or we won’t see it! (Please tag NSFW if you have any nsfw material).
- Please also make sure to list any warnings and tags using something similar to the suggested format on the blog page.
- All creations will be reblogged by no later than August 31st to the challenge page for everyone to enjoy!
What if I have more questions?
-If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to check out the FAQ page , the rules page, just send us an ask or if you’re a part of our shiny new Discord, come on by and chat!
