Title: Gods in the Chrysalis
Author: JhanaMay
Artist: violue
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: Endverse Castiel, Musician Castiel, traumatic brain injury
Posting Date: 11/7/2017Summary: Olympic hopeful Dean Winchester has always felt more at home in the water than he did on land. Pressured by his father to carry on his mother’s dream, Dean’s entire life has revolved around swimming and competing. Everything changes when he sustains a head injury in an accident at the pool and is left unable to swim. The fear of disappointing everyone in his life is heightened when he realizes his love of the water has been replaced by a strange talent for playing the piano. With the help of Castiel, the high-school dropout/weekend musician who runs a local music store, Dean learns to question everything he thought he knew about himself, his family, and his life. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the butterfly calls just the beginning.
– – –
Dean opens his eyes, and blinks, registering for the first time the damp tear tracks streaked down his face. He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying, but his sinuses ache enough to tell him it’s been a while. Reaching up to scrub the wetness away, Dean turns to face the person behind him.
The man from the behind the counter stands a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black skinny jeans. Dean hadn’t noticed before, but he’s wearing a pale blue t-shirt with a colorful pony on the front, the words Rainbow Dash in glitter below it. Intricate designs—musical notation shot through with dark green vines and bright splashes of flowers—wind their way up both arms and disappear into his shirt sleeves. A single musical note drips from the right corner of his bright blue eyes and two silver balls frame the outer edge of his left eyebrow.
The man rocks back on his heels and clears his throat. “Holy fuck,” he says, his voice a deep, rolling timbre. “I’m glad Raph listened when I told him not to get rid of that piano.”
He steps forward and Dean shifts back, pressing himself against the keys and wincing at the discordant sound. “Sorry, I, ah, I saw it and—”
“Don’t apologize. We don’t get classically trained pianists in here, like, ever. That was fucking beautiful.” He pulls one hand out of his pocket and tugs at the hem of the too-small t-shirt where it’s pulling up, revealing a sliver of skin at his hip.
Dean follows the long fingers with his eyes. Piano keys cover the back of his hand, tattooed across his knuckles and down to the first joint. “I’m not—” Dean stands up, knocking the bench back against the piano, and edges away from the man. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to go. I’m Castiel,” the guy says, holding out his hand. “Where’d you study? Not K.U., not playing Satie like that. Tell me you didn’t go to Juilliard.”
Dean studies the man’s outstretched hand, then looks back up at his face. Dark stubble dusts his strong jawline, and Dean’s mouth goes dry. Despite the tattoos and the piercings and the fucking god-awful abomination of a t-shirt, he’s gorgeous, and Dean can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and he’s going to pass out and he doesn’t even know where the hell he is or how he got here. Sucking in a rasping gasp of air, he stumbles backward. He can’t do this, not with the song echoing in his head and his hands twitching to play it again. “I can’t,” he forces out, shoving past the man. “I’m sorry; I have to go. I’m sorry.” He rushes to the door and out into the bright afternoon sun.
Tag: DCBB 2017
Title: Life Could Be a Dream, Sweetheart
Author: ireadhpinenochian
Artist: topieornottopie
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, fluff, angst, baker!Dean, psychic!Cas, established relationship, non-explicit past child abuse (mentioned), canon au, bakery au
Posting Date: 10/16/2017Summary: Dean is an ex hunter turned bakery owner. Cas is his basically perfect boyfriend with one slight flaw – he never stays the night. When what was supposed to be night terrors turns out to be an actual monster trapped in Cas’ dreams, Dean decides to call in a favor from an old friend. But Cas is reluctant to accept any help for what he views as his responsibility, especially when that help puts Dean in danger. Besides, would the two of them even be enough to take on the monster that Cas has failed to defeat his whole life? Or will the monster prove to be more than a match for the two of them in an ever-changing dreamscape that Cas is only mostly in charge of?
– – –
“It’s a good plan,” Dean told him.
“It’s too dangerous,” Cas replied. “Dean, you die in my dream you die in real life. The adversary is not something to take lightly. I’ve been fighting him my whole life and I haven’t been able to defeat him!”
“Exactly my point!” Dean threw his hands up before walking back to the counter to grab the broom. He had already cleaned the tables as he waited for the clock to tick down the minutes before he could close. “If you can’t do something on your own, then you ask someone to help you.”
“This isn’t your responsibility, Dean,” Cas told him. He was standing behind the till, trying to count the money. He had started over twice now, getting distracted each time Dean opened his mouth.
“Like hell it’s not!” Dean flung his arms out, nearly knocking over a stack of plates fresh from being washed. He looked sheepish for a moment at realizing what he had almost done and then furiously began sweeping. “I mean, come on Cas. Didn’t we just have three rounds of sex to celebrate exactly why this is my fucking responsibility?”
Cas threw the money back into the register with a huff. He leaned forward on the counter and hung his head. “I can’t let you risk your life for me, Dean.”
“Why the hell not?” Dean demanded. He had stopped sweeping to glare at Cas. “Cas, I spent my life risking my life for complete fucking strangers, you bet your ass I’m going to risk my life for you.”
Cas was shaking his head when he answered. “You’re not understanding me, Dean. It’s too dangerous.” He said it slowly as if Dean just hadn’t heard.
Dean threw the broom to the ground in frustration and marched over to Cas. “I don’t care, Cas. I’m not letting you go another night fighting a monster without backup.”
“No,” he said again in a growl. “He will kill you, Dean. I cannot allow that to happen. He will not take anyone else from me.”
“He’s not going to, Cas. Me and you? We’re good together. We’re the perfect fucking team, babe.”
“We’ve never fought together a day in our lives.”
Dean shrugged. “So?”
Title: Version 2.0
Author: Elizabeth1985
Artist: comedicdrama
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: nyc, best friends, roommates, friends with benefits, tattooed!dean, tattooed!castiel, dean is crazy smart, business partners, light d/s, light kink
Posting Date: 10/31/2017Summary: Life is nothing but a series of processes. We rise, we work, we function within the walls we’ve designed for ourselves. Dean Winchester does not deviate from this system. Heavily tattooed and a borderline genius; Dean necessitates control. Relationships are a no-go. Too messy, unpredictable. And yeah, he knows having casual sex with his best friend, roommate, and business partner is a dumbass move. But Cas’ suggestion is impossible to resist. What Dean doesn’t expect and couldn’t possibly predict is the unique way Cas manages to shut down his mile-a-minute mind, giving him a level of inner peace he’d thought to be unattainable. What starts out of convenience morphs into a dynamic emotional slide neither of them were prepared for, forcing them to decide what they’re willing to risk.
– – –
They know each other too well. Castiel’s crystal blue eyes narrow into slits, head tipped at an angle against the back of the couch. There’s a weighted pause hovering between them.
“Something’s different…” Cas murmurs, barely meeting Dean’s eyes.
It’s the strangest thing, this singular moment. As if they both know something’s changed but neither has the balls to say it outright or even blink suggestively in that direction. They let it hang, pretending there aren’t internal freakouts just flying all over the apartment like hyper-charged dust motes.
Choking down unwanted panic, Dean ruffles Cas’ unruly hair. “Don’t worry about it. What do you want for dinner?”
His roommate closes his eyes to the touch. “Whatever you want works for me.”
Is there a double-meaning there? They’re both pretty damn smart. They could dance this game a long while. Tiptoeing in suggestive language, if that’s what this is. Dean’s not sure. He hates complicated crap and Cas has the social cues of a rabbit sometimes. But maybe it is… this potentially cryptic back and forth. Maybe they’ll hide under the safety of its uncertainty and clouded air of disassociation. For a bit anyway. Dean’s not ready to figure this out. It feels too much like giving in to the raging constant need inside him. It wouldn’t do any good to reach out and grab the closest male in proximity. Let alone one who happens to be his best fucking friend, and his roommate, AND his business partner.
“I haven’t decided on anything,” he says. Take that double meaning and smoke it.
The faintest smile passes through Cas’ expression. But is it suggestive or normal; he doesn’t know. “We could order out,” suggests Cas. “I’m starving.”
Order out? Starving? Are they still playing? Maybe they never were. Maybe Dean’s overactive brain has taken a sharp turn from reality. Watching an hour or two of porn every day probably doesn’t help.
“Uh, pizza?”
Cas moans. “Yessss. Definitely pizza.”
Last night comes flashing back to him. “Damn, you’re busting out those moans for pizza? Maybe you were dreaming about a big deep-dish last night.” Yeah right, he answers himself sarcastically. A fucking extra-large slice of the Best Friend Special.
“Perhaps I was,” Cas replies. No hesitation. Just a little sass.
“Uhn-huh,” Dean blandly fires back, not even trying to hide his bullshit-meter tone.
Dean’s life is supposed to be uncomplicated, dammit. Now he’s conversing in vague subtleties and possible innuendos. Fuck.
Why did his best friend have to dream-moan his name like that? It’s like a box Dean never knew he owned just exploded all over the floor in some catastrophic sticky mess. One singular event turning his orderly life into shambles.
Man, he really needs to clean something.
Title: Walk Through Fire At My Side
Author: Areiton
Artist: iouii
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: canon typical violence, war, minor character death, era typical slavery, imprisonment, hurt/comfort, pining, miscommunication, John is the actual worst, dead Lucifer
Posting Date: 11/1/2017Summary: Castiel was sent to Hadrian’s Wall as punishment, cut off from Rome and his powerful family. He intends to do his time, before he returns to a girl who loves him and a family he misses.
He doesn’t expect Sam, a wild mystic who rescues him, or his gruff and overprotective brother Dean, as violent and threatening as he is kind.
Dean doesn’t think he can tolerate a Roman, a Legate, not after his history in the arena. But Sam’s visions say that together, they’re safe, and Dean’s trusted those for longer than he can remember.As hostilities between their people increase and both are pressed into fighting a war they don’t believe in, Dean and Castiel are pulled apart by duty and family expectations. Balanced between an empire and a new world, Castiel and two brothers will fight for peace and a fragile chance at love.
– – –
He wakes first, and for a few moments, lays still, assessing the pain in his side, the low throb in his shoulder. He rolls it slightly, testing and appraising the stiffness.
It’s manageable. Not quite as sedate as he would prefer, but manageable.
He should leave.
Go back to Wall.
Gabriel will be furious and on edge–he was a little surprised that his impetuous brother had not started a war already, that no one had been sent over the Wall for him yet.
But then, maybe someone had.
And yet.
His head rolls to the side, and he sees Dean, sleeping close enough to touch.
He looks soft, gentle, his eyelashes twitching against freckled skin and intricate tattoos. Long hair, in clumps and braids, spreads like a wave around his head.
He’s from the heart of Rome, an Empire that prides itself on beauty and elegance, but he has never seen anything as lovely as this Pict warrior with a gentleness that startles him.
He wants to stay here. In this quiet peaceful glade, with Sam and his herbs and potions, with Dean and his rough voice and sharp glances.
He likes it here, more than he has any right to.
The sun is coming up, through the trees, birds singing louder in the forest.
He’s still watching Dean when the other man blinks awake, and he watches it, watches it wash over him like the sunrise, a slow flutter of long lashes and a sleepy smile that he knows damn well isn’t meant for him.
It’s the warmest look Dean has ever given him and he allows himself to reveal in it for longer than he should, while Dean wakes up.
“Good morning, Dean,” he whispers, into the quiet cabin.
“Mornin’, Blue,” Dean mumbles back and for a while, as the forest wakes beyond this small haven, they enjoy the silence together.
Title: The Cold Fusion Job
Author: la_rubinita
Artist: throughxthexice
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings: thief!Dean, scientist!Cas, kidnapping, action violence, heist job, Cas pretends to be Russian, Dean’s A+ self-worth, Dean deserves nice things, Cas is a nice thing, Jo is a fucking badass
Posting Date: 10/4/2017Summary: Castiel Milton is a brilliant electro-chemist at the peak of his career. He’s developed the ultimate energy source, the science behind it promising to revolutionize the world energy market and combat climate change in a way few could have ever dreamed. He’s proud of his work, but he’s grown restless and is more lonely than he realized. He’s ready for a change.
Dean is a thief and mercenary by trade, on a mission of absolution with his rag-tag family. But when the nastiest skeleton in Dean’s closet rears its ugly head, Dean is put between a rock and a hard place: steal Castiel’s research or Sam dies.
It’s all downhill from there. Dean is not the only thief after Castiel’s work, and no one is pulling any punches. Castiel ends up along for the ride, stepping up time and time again, as determined to save Sam as he is to protect his life’s work.
Dean doesn’t know what to do with Castiel and his too-blue eyes that see more than they should, or the growing affection he has for him that, like everything else about this wild night, is completely out of control.
– – –
Castiel wandered up to his building in a daze, stopping dead when he saw his reflection in the glass door. He looked like hell. His tuxedo was destroyed — torn, covered in dirt, the knees of his trousers were shredded from when he’d knelt in the glass, and his bowtie was gone. The dark circles under his eyes made him appear as exhausted as he felt, and he was in dire need of a shower and a shave.
There was also the blood. Most of it was Dean’s.The apartment was full of morning sun when Castiel finally managed to trudge up the stairs. The television was on, re-runs of “The Rockford Files” airing with the volume turned low, and Anna was asleep on the sofa, still wearing her dress. She stirred when the door clicked shut behind him, stretching and yawning as she fixed her bleary gaze on him.
She looked out the window, then back at him, a teasing smile curling her lips and sculpted eyebrows dancing suggestively. “I guess it ended up being more than just a couple of drinks and some glad-handing.”
“You could say that,” Castiel said dryly.
Anna squinted at him across the room. “Did you go for a literal roll in the hay?”
“Not exactly.”
“Where would you even find hay?”
Castiel looked down at himself, remembering rolling down that embankment, the sound of metal twisting in the distance.
Anna got up and moved toward him, alert now, keen eyes cataloging every detail. Not much got past her. Her gaze narrowed. “Is that blood?”
He tried to think of something to say to soothe his sister, but Anna was already working herself up to a proper fit, so… “No?”
“That is not a question you answer with another question, Cas! Oh my God, did he roofie you and leave you to die of exposure?”
Castiel shook his head. “Nothing like that. He was a perfect gentleman. Until he throat-punched the priest.”
“What?!” Anna screeched, flailing a little. “Who throat-punches a priest? Alright, that’s it. I’m am officially making myself your Head Screener of Dates. Jesus. You went to a fundraising gala, and you look like someone threw you out of a moving car!”
He canted his head to the side. Her summary was surprisingly accurate.
“I’m going to shower.”“What? Cas! You can’t lead in with ‘he throat-punched a priest’ and then just walk away!”
Castiel walked away.
It wasn’t like the guy was a real priest anyway.
Title: Between the Folds of Submission
Author: destimushi
Artist: purzelndesbaeumchen
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings: serial killer case, D/S biology, Dominant Dean, Submissive Cas, suspense, kidnapping, subspace, hand-feeding, spanking, facial
Posting Date: 10/2/2017Summary: Castiel Novak, the city’s only Submissive homicide detective, balances navigating a career believed to be a Dominant’s domain and keeping his physical needs in check. When another team drops the ball and a series of gruesome murders lands in Castiel’s lap, it’s simply another day on the job.
Only this isn’t like any case Castiel has ever worked. Collecting clues and running leads gets him nowhere, until the day he receives a phone call from Dean Winchester, Editor-in-Chief of the popular magazine Cruisin’ Classics. It’s a phone call that has the power to blow the case wide open.
Castiel races against the clock as the killer ups the ante, but Dean—rich, drop-dead gorgeous, and a famously unconventional Dominant to boot—proves to be a distraction he can’t afford. As the danger grows, Castiel finds himself torn between upholding his beliefs and giving in to his desires. Can he resist his urges long enough to find the killer, or will his biology consume him?
– – –
“You’ve really never been with a Dominant before?” Dean cuts in, and his bright green eyes flash with mischief.
Castiel blinks, his jaw clenching as he takes a few breaths before answering, “I don’t see how—“
“Just answer the question.” Dean’s voice drops, so low and smooth it’s like silk against Castiel’s skin, and he’s responding to the command as much as he is to the question when he says, “No, I haven’t.”
Dean’s eyes widen, sunlight bounces off the flecks of gold in his eyes, and Castiel stares, mesmerized. “But the VPD must be crawling with doms.”
Castiel blinks, breaking free of the bewitching fire in Dean’s eyes, and rage bubbles to the surface, threatening to break through. He swallows, his throat scratchy, and grips his pen until his knuckles are bleach white. “That’s none of your business, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped trying to intimidate me.”
“Okay, sorry.” Dean puts up both hands, palms open and facing Castiel, and the apology in his smile seems genuine. “That was an asshole thing to do.”
“Yes, it was, guess I should have expected it.” Castiel should be professional, should check his feelings at the door when he’s on the clock. It’s not the first time a Dominant tried to take advantage of him, but there’s just something about Dean that rubs him wrong. Maybe it’s that stupid article D/S Weekly did on Dean, or, if Castiel’s being honest with himself, it’s something a lot more personal.
“Oh?” Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and Castiel can’t decide if Dean’s amused or surprised or a little pissed off.
“I read the article.”
“Okay, so you know I’m unconventional. Doesn’t mean you know me personally.”
“I don’t know what being ‘unconventional’ has anything to do with it, and I really don’t care.” Castiel meets Dean’s gaze even if the pit of his stomach is dropping further with each passing second. “We have a killer on the loose, and you have possible evidence, so let me do my job, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I read about you too, you know.” Dean shrugs and leans back, his arms stretch out behind him as his hands take his weight. The suit jacket falls open, and the silk of his shirt strains around the buttons in soft creases. Dean’s clothes are hiding well toned arms and a broad chest sporting a peculiar tattoo. Castiel might have paid more attention to the photographs attached to that article than he cares to admit. “First Submissive to ever make homicide detective. Very impressive.”
“Good, then you know my job is important to me, and I’d like to do it now, please.”
No Such Thing as Coincidence 