ficrecpalace:

Title: When Anna Fell
Characters: Anna, Castiel
Words: 1222
Rating: G

Mistletoe Kisses and Nargles 

betwixt-and-in-between:

They’re walking out of the Great Hall after the relatively small Christmas dinner shared with a few professors and fellow students who stayed at the castle for the holiday, about to part ways in order to return to their dorms, when Dean takes Castiel by the hand. The Hufflepuff tilts his head in confusion, but stops and gives his friend a small smile. “What is it Dean?”

He’s never seen the Gryffindor act so nervously; he’s blushing and rubbing the back of his head like he’s trying to think of something to say. “Well, uh… so your Christmas was good, then?” Castiel nods his head, and Dean flashes him a quick smile. “Oh, well, that’s good, then. So, uh… oh look, mistletoe. Wonder how that got there.”

Castiel looks up, and sure enough, dark green leaves and red berries are hung above the doorway they are standing in. He smiles to himself, happy to know where this is leading. “You know, nargles are pretty fond of mistletoe.”

“Nargles?”

“Yes,” Castiel says as he looks back at Dean, who’s still holding his hand tightly, like he’s afraid Cas will run off screaming now that he knows what Dean’s hoping for. “Rather annoying creatures, nargles. They steal my stuff sometimes- like to scatter it around the castle.”

“Oh.” Now Dean’s the one looking confused; this was not where he thought this conversation was going to go. He looks up at the mistletoe himself, to see if there actually are any tiny creatures hiding in the leaves. Castiel watches him for a moment, happy that Dean is with him here and now on Christmas, investigating possible nargle infestations, warmly holding his hand. He’s the luckiest boy in the world in that moment.

“Dean.” The Gryffindor feels a slight tug on his red and gold scarf hanging from his neck, and looks back at Castel, who gives his hand a squeeze and smiles at him before softly placing his lips on Dean’s own. It’s beautiful and warm and theirs, something they secretly share in the dark, empty hallway, and then it is over as quickly as it began. Dean stares down at his friend, who smiles once more and says, “Merry Christmas, Dean,” before turning around and heading toward his dorms by the kitchens. 

He runs a finger over his still-tingling lips, amazed and fuzzy and warmed by the kiss he just shared with his best friend. “Merry Christmas, Cas,” he says softly, and then he, too, heads for his dorm room.

-wondersmith:

Inspired by roryisdead-mustbesaturday’s ficlet.

The first time Castiel saw snow, he looked upon it as if it were the greatest of his father’s creations. His wide blue eyes gazed up at the parade of soft white flakes as if they held all of the secrets of the universe.

But even more amazing than the snow, Dean thought, was how happy it made Cas, and how breathtaking he looked against the dark expanse of the night sky, dotted everywhere with the clean, cold white.

Realizing that he was having an inner chick-flick moment, Dean leaned down and scooped up some snow in his bare hands, packing it together until it formed a nice, round, solid ball, and threw it straight at the angel.

It whipped through the night air and struck Castiel right in the neck, exploding on impact and splashing him with the cold, packed crystals.

Castiel turned to Dean, looking more intrigued than angry which, Dean had to admit, was an adorable look on him.

So of course, he couldn’t resist throwing another snowball at him.

Dean caught a challenging spark in Castiel’s eyes before the angel leaned down and began packing snow.

He decided now would be a good time to run.

He darted away and hid behind a park bench and began forming more ammunition. He hazarded a glance towards Cas, only to be met with a face full of snow.

When he cleared the snow out of his eyes, he caught sight of a rather triumphant looking angel with dark, unruly hair dusted in white and cheeks tickled pink by the cold.

“Oh you’re in for it now,” Dean proclaimed, grinning wildly.

He gathered the snowballs he had accumulated in one arm, using the other to begin tossing them at Cas who, once he realized what was happening, sprinted in the other direction.

Dean didn’t account, however, for how quick the angel was, and found himself getting hit in the chest with a snowball, just as he was about to send one careening at Cas.

Proud of his work, Castiel stood there grinning at Dean, who took this as an opportunity to tackle him into a snowbank.

The two lay there for a long moment, laughing, letting the snow fall, before they realized the position they were in.

Dean was grateful for the cold - if anyone asked, /that’s/ why his cheeks were pink. He had the urge to spring to his feet (and away from Cas), apologize, and then head back to the motel. But the mix of surprise and pure, unbridled joy in the angel’s eyes convinced him to do otherwise.

He looked into those bright blue eyes, then his gaze dragged down to his flushed skin, and landed finally on his plush, pink lips, chapped even more than usual because of the dry winter air.

And that was it. The temptation was too strong. Dean had no other choice than to lean down and gently press his lips to Castiel’s.

The kiss was soft. It was quick. It was chaste.

And it was perfect.

Dean found himself grinning like an idiot as he looked down at Cas, bathed in moonlight and covered in snow, and he didn’t care that he was acting like a lovestruck teenager, because it was worth it.

Once again, he saw that same look on Castiel’s face - as if he were regarding the most amazing sight that his father had to offer. Only this time…he was looking at Dean.

ficrecpalace:

Title: Except Thou Bless Me 
Characters: Castiel/Dean, arguable past Alastair/Dean 
Rating: NC-17 
Wordcount: ~10,500 
Summary: Castiel is wroth, and Dean is having a great time. 
Warnings: Wangst. Language. Violence. Consensual power exchange. Moderate-core S&M, including light CBT and brief, incidental breath play. References to actual torture; references to past threats of rape. Schmoopy aftercare. In roughly that order. 
Disclaimer: Engaging in any sort of BDSM activity without at least implicit prior negotiation is dangerous. Don’t try this at home.

Not This Time 

coffeeandcheesecake:

I basically wrote this at 4am after not sleeping for a while. I was really sad about how nobody’s mentioned Castiel in the last two episodes, so this is how I rationalized it.

Castiel wakes up by the side of the lake, his clothes soggy, his coat missing.

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The Trial 

savingcastiel:

heavenandhellcastiel:

churchofcas:

Dean sat there, staring with disbelief. His mind kept screaming at him telling him that the last witness would end up being Amy but this..he wasn’t ready for this. His heart sank, his mind reeled. He couldn’t just hide his emotions this time. He was guilty, he would always be guilty.

Cas’s blue eyes were dull, hair mused, trench coat missing, black stains blotched on his white shirt. He stared blankly at Dean and Sam, as if he was looking straight through them, almost hypnotized. 

“Castiel, should Dean feel guilt for your death?” Osiris asked, his grin almost devilish.

The whole room was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Dean swallowed hard, waiting for Cas to spit out all these things Dean should feel guilty for, all the wrongs he’d done to Cas and yet..

“Dean is not the person responsible for my own actions,” Cas said slowly, “He was merely an innocent observer in it all. He tried to stop me, begged me but I didn’t listen to him,” Cas’s eyes flashed in the fire light as he slowly moved from behind the stand to right in front of Dean.

“If anything I should be thanking him.”

Osiris’s face twisted to a horrible grimace, “Why so?”

Cas turned to Osiris, his face hard, “Because Dean Winchester has believed in me more than any human or divine or demonic being I’m ever met. Even when he defied me before…He still believed in me in the end. He extended his hand in love and acceptance. In help. And in belief,” he turned back to Dean, “Dean Winchester has done nothing more but believe in everyone around him. Believe them and help them along the way. Dean Winchester is not a man wracked by unbelievable guilt….but a man who has nothing more to do but believe in everyone…because he can’t believe in himself.”

A smile appeared on Cas’s face while Osiris still grimaced. “Dean,” Cas whispered, leaning closer to him, whispering in his ear, “Let go. None of this was ever your fault… and please.. Learn to believe in yourself again. For me.”

And with that, the angel was gone.

Okay, that’ll put one reason on why Osiris didn’t summon Cas on the scoreboard

Where Castiel was last episode.  

pushing-up-stardust:

So let’s suppose for a moment Dean wasn’t feeling as guilty as fuck and was the cocky son of a bitch we all know and love. 

“Sure, call your third witness.”

And Osiris smiles this smile that just says oh damn son, you’re screwed now. 

“I call Castiel angel of the Judeo Christian God to the stand.”

The Winchester’s faces fall; Dean starts trying to work out how much it’s going to suck to die this time round, Sam just tries to work out if he can throw his brother over his shoulder and run from the room. 

Castiel takes the stand, still sodden from the lake and looking faintly confused about the whole thing. 

“Castiel,” begins Osiris “would you please tell the court just why Dean should feel so guilty for killing you?”

Castiel turns his head to stare at Osiris curiously. “Is that why I’m here?”

He doesn’t look confused anymore, just downright irritated.

“Dean didn’t kill me, I’m not dead.” And he stands up, kicks over his chair. “Castiel out bitches!”

Then leaves in a cloud of BAMF and suddenly every virgin in a ten mile radius is magically deflowered. 

Sam and Dean fistpump in triumph (or Dean would if he wasn’t still tied up).

Osiris would wonder if it was too early for retirement. 

ficrecpalace:

Title: Second Verse, Same as the First
Author: oatmeal_queen
Rating: R (for swearing and graphic imagery)
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: up to 4.16
Warnings: My list asked for angst, h/c, UST and whump. Thus, I do believe I have covered all grounds. 
Word Count: 34,500 (give or take) 
Summary: On a day that doesn’t seem to want to end, Dean and Castiel are faced with an opponent who attempts to force them apart with the barter of one’s freedom in exchange for the other’s absolute death. But who’s life is worth more? A human’s or an angel’s? And for two creatures who seemingly dislike each other, why is it so hard to choose?

This started out as headcanon and morphed into drabble.  

jebiwonkenobi:

By the time Castiel realized that maybe, even if Dean was a big dumb jerk, he might have been right about putting the souls back, it was too late. They’d taken root and they didn’t want to go anywhere. He was finally ready to let them go, but he couldn’t get them to let go of him. 

All he had now were moments. Brief moments when the souls were arguing and he got control over his body without them noticing, or maybe they just didn’t care. The first time, he got a pen and some scraps of paper, and shoved them in a pocket.

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ficrecpalace:

Title: all I’ve felt was leading to this
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Author: janie-tangerine
Rating: NC17
Words: 5700
Warnings: I don’t think anything is worth warning for.
Spoilers: up to the S5 finale, that included.
Summary: “Dean,” Castiel replies, his voice calm, his hand just slightly raising but not reaching out. For a second Dean wishes he would. “I think you know what this means. And if you do, then it’s not hard to guess what you might want. I’m just trying to give it to you, if you’ll let me.” Or, the one where Dean has weird dreams and Castiel doesn’t need them explained.