#implied deancas

[shadowpaintedrose]

I: In Memoriam

   With the apocalypse not so much looming as it is actively upon them, there hasn’t been much time for the Winchesters to lick their wounds and grieve.

   And the wounds had been deep, metaphorically and literally. Sam himself had gotten out with the most minor injuries of all, which wasn’t saying much. There was a bullet wound to the shoulder, first of all. He had, of course, also gotten a few bumps and bruises along the way that barely registered – the usual. The worst of it (or at least the most painful) had been a long, raw gash from wrist to elbow that had come from a hand-to-hand struggle from the zombie fight in the graveyard, an encounter that they had barely survived.

     Cas especially.

Read full story here.

Teen, No Archive Warnings Applicable. 2k words, oneshot. Coda to Moriah. Mentions of canonical character deaths. Minor/Implied DeanCas, nothing more than what the actual show suggests. Sam POV.

Week 1 of the @spnhiatuscreations challenge: In Memoriam.

Beta-ed by @sweetness47

[perlukafarinn]

they have to get creative with ornaments since they forgot to buy any and the bunker isn't exactly stocked with those, destiel, jack and sam please 😊

Dean stands back, surveying their Christmas tree with a mix of horror and pride. It’s a nine-foot monstrosity, one that took considerable effort to get down to the bunker, but despite their forethought to get themselves a proper tree for once they all somehow managed to forget the ornaments.

So, they improvised. Instead of colorful baubles and other cutesy trinkets, the branches are decorated with tinfoil crumpled into balls, origami stars folded from torn-out magazine pages (RIP Dean’s skin mags), and various shiny trinkets they found lying around the bunker.

It’s... it’s something. And now, all they need is something on top of the tree. 

Dean glances at Cas.

“No, Dean,” he says. “I will not get on top of the tree.”

Dean quirks a grin. “C’mon, where are we gonna find another angel on such short notice?”

“I don’t understand,” Jack chimes in. “Is it tradition for an angel to sit on top of the tree?”

Dean opens his mouth to tell Jack that, yes, that’s exactly it, but Sam beats him to the punch.

“No, it’s not,” he says, because he’s a grinch. “Ignore them, that’s just Dean’s weird way of flirting.”

Dean sputters. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, were you not asking Cas to get on top?”

“He was,” Cas agrees. 

They both sound way too amused with themselves. 

Then Jack innocently asks why asking someone to ‘get on top’ counts as flirting and Dean isn’t the only one uncomfortable anymore. Sam clears his throat and finds a way to quickly change the subject.

They end up cramming a bottle of beer on the top of the tree. There’s a star on the label, so it almost counts as festive

[cuddlemonsterdean]

not there |  post12x23 coda. for @schmerzerling

Too many bullet holes. It’s a metaphor. Dean hates those. They make things seem pretty and neat, and a cardboard target shot to shreds is not. Disgusted, he shuffles back upstairs, hands clenching nervously. Weeks without sleep, but the show must go on. All the empty spaces are given a voice, and they scream. At him. Night, day, drunk or sober. Fuck, Dean doesn’t even have to be home. It builds up in his throat, and he swallows, swallows. Go on.

Things get hazy, again, and Dean can’t lift his head. Sober, but not there. Has to watch his hands; his hands that move erratic and frantic over the kitchen counter. Back and forth. Back and forth. If it’s not clean, it’s not safe, and Dean needs it to be safe. Things turn bad when he doesn’t tend to them. People get lost. They leave, because it’s not safe.

“Dean?”

His palms burn. Dean can’t see right, and he blinks, angrily. He’s got to do this. He’s got to finish this.

“Busy, Sammy.”

His voice is a croak. He clenches his teeth, swallows, swallows. The shredded target is still a mess. Dean’s gotta—he’s gotta take care of that, why didn’t he?

“Dean, hey. Hey, can you look at me?”

He feels himself shaking his head. Shying away, Dean tries to keep scrubbing but now his hands are trembling and he can’t hold the rag. How is he supposed to throw out his bed now? He needs to. It’s too big. There’s too much space; too many loud, screaming holes in space—

Blank. Dean’s off his feet and his head is in his hands, and it’s ugly. Hurt sounds come out his throat and tears drip off his chin until he’s dry and silent. He’s given water then, and circles on his back, and words. And he swallows, and he leans, and he nods—but in his head, he counts the bullets holes.

[septemberlilies]

more poems from dean to cas

[fairy-changeling]

So this has sat in my inbox for while where I completely forgot to do anything with it.

Yes, it’s my Royal Seflie from Rich and Rob! 

Honestly, it looks like Rich might be planning to murder me with a hammer. I suddenly understand how Dean feels after telling Gabriel he’s dating Castiel. 

Rob on the other hand looks like he’s suggesting a game of golf. 

[fairy-changeling]

Four year old Emma draws Dean’s father’s day card herself. 

The kitchen table, Castiel and the card are covered with glitter glue by the time Dean comes through the front door, tired after finishing a night shift at the docks where he works as a security guard. It’s not a great job, too many late nights, but he needs to look after his little family and they were hiring.

Emma proudly presents her card to him as Dean sits down wearily at the kitchen table and he beams, completely delighted.

He hugs her tight, because she makes all the late nights worth it, and the hangs the card on the fridge. 

[fairy-changeling]

But Bella have you ever thought of this: baby nephillim that make tiny bird noises in place of baby talk. Just imagine how cute that would be, little cheeps and peeps and cooing all the time! Then imagine Dean sitting with a babe with green eyes and dark hair in his lap, and Dean whistling along with whatever noises the baby makes like they're having a conversation. Just imagine it and drown in the cute fluff that is Papa!Dean

*melting with cuteness*

I need this! baby nephillim that chirp until they learn to talk and daddy!Dean cooing back!

[fairy-changeling]

“You. Come. Snuggle. NOW!” for... Bendriel. :)

The men from the North are barbarians.

Big, hulking, huge muscled and unwashed barbarians. 

Samandriel is certainly not attracted to any of them, especially not the ones who come to trade the pelts they’ve taken from kills. He his most definitely not attracted to the kind one with the warm eyes who always smiles at him and holds back the best furs for Samandriel’s inspection.

Samandriel’s older brother ran away with a barbarian from the North. He left in the middle of the night and now they don’t speak of him at all. His name has been banned in their house.

Samandriel knows that the same would await him if he left. He’d be an exile from his family. If he came back, he’d be shunned. 

Even knowing that, he still goes to the barbarians camp. They come for the market, set up camp, and leave in the morning. If Samandriel doesn’t go with them, no one would ever know that he visited them.

They are all so loud - drinking and singing - carrying on in a way that is never permitted in the somber drinking den’s of Samandriel’s home town. He should be afraid, but he isn’t. He just feels lost, looking for the man he considers his barbarian, but unable to see him in the throng of me.

“You. Come. Snuggle. NOW!”

The shout comes from behind him and moment later he’s hoisted up by strong arms. He should be so afraid now, but he isn’t, because he knows the man who holds him and knows that he would never hurt him. 

He looks down into the face of the warm eyed barbarian who lifts him up so easily, as if Samandriel weighs nothing at all, and laughs with joy.

"You’d better take me to your tent then!" he says.

What those back at home don’t know won’t hurt them and Samandriel is not running away. He’s not Castiel. He just wants to spend time with his barbarian - with Benny as he finds out the man is called as they undress each other in the privacy of Benny’s tent - before the man has to leave in the morning. 

Samandriel won’t go with him, but his heart will.