this blog is a conglomeration of "fandoms", personal thoughts, maybe politics sometimes, pretty pictures, etc etc
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DRAMIONE, captain swan, destiel
occasionally nsfw
previously winterstiell/
casteiel.co.vu
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ruby girls
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tab art credit
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dee; 19; slytherin (gryffindor secondary); horned serpent; dramione is my lifeblood
~previously narcissaist~
Longing: n.noun. A strong persistent yearning or desire, especially one that cannot be fulfilled.The first few times it happens, it makes sense.
Dean is having a nightmare, Cas is there when he wakes up.
Dean goes back in time to stop his mom from making a deal, Cas pulls him back to the present right when it gets too intense.
Dean is contemplating the decisions he made to save a town on Halloween, Cas shows up to talk him through it.
But then it stops making sense.
Cas appears in the passenger seat when Dean’s on a supply run.
Cas lands directly in front of Dean as he’s packing his clothes in a motel he and Sam are just about to check out of.
Cas flies in while they’re eating at a crap diner and steals fries off of Dean’s plate.
None of this makes any sense at all, and Dean never asks about it. Every time it happens, Cas has this confused look on his face as if he’s just as surprised as Dean is to find himself in the Winchesters’ presence. Dean decides to try and pinpoint when it happens, what exactly it is that makes Cas show up unannounced, but after several weeks he realizes he’s got nothing.
Finally, he asks.
plantbucky-deactivated20160420:
deancas, 2k, halloween fluff | read on ao3
much love to amoeba and caitlin for beta-ing ♥♥
Summary: After a horror movie marathon with his brother, Castiel is trying to walk home under the full moon in peace. Dean, on the other hand, is trying to walk home in pieces.
Aka; the one where Cas has no idea that there is an organized october zombie crawl going on, and Dean gives him a near heart-attack.
He stepped out of the bunker, leaving Cas with his brother.
It’s done.
It’s done.
He got into the impala, his heart racing.
It’s done.
I saved him.
His hands are shaking, and there are hot tears in his eyes, and he can’t breathe.
I saved him.
He tries to ignore the image of his brother’s teeth getting close to him, of his brother’s eyes full of hatred, of his brother’s hand slamming a hammer…
I saved him.
He takes a deep breath, straighten up and start driving.
I’ve been through worse than that, he tries to convince himself.
I can do that.
Inhale.
I can do that.
Exhale.
Here’s my new fic which was inspired by this adorable comic! And here’s Sophia’s awesome new fanart which you should all check out!!
Dean wouldn’t tell anyone about what had happened in his djinn induced fantasy. Sam and Cas wouldn’t have minded so much, but…
(prompt: high school au where Dean finally screws up the courage to ask out Cas but a few weeks and several dates and dinners later Dean realises Cas has no idea that they’re dating)
Dean sucks in a deep breath. He can do this. Just because he’s loved Cas forever doesn’t mean this has to be difficult. They’ve been friends just as long. All Dean has to do is be honest.
He meets Cas at his locker, just like he always does after school.
It’s not a big deal. Just say the words.
“Cas.”
Cas glances up from where he’s stuffing his books into his backpack. Bright blue eyes land on Dean and Cas smiles. “Hello, Dean.”
Dean ignores the butterflies that flutter around in his stomach every time Cas says his name. He can’t let himself get distracted.
“Cas, buddy, listen. I - uh - just wanted to know if you would, maybe, want to… go out? With me? Like, Friday night?”
Cas’s smile turns gummy. “Sure, Dean. What would you like to do?”
Oh my God, he said yes. “Uh… well… dinner. We should have dinner and then, maybe, go to a movie?”
Cas nods. “That sounds fun.”
“Great,” Dean says, and laughs as relief takes hold. “That’s great, Cas.”
This was so easy, Dean wonders why he hasn’t done it years ago.
[Fic] You’re My Sweetheart
Dean took a deep breath and tried to square his shoulders, feeling like he was drowning in his hand-me-down suit. He glanced back at the road to see John waiting in their wood cart, old and painted with the logo of Winchester and Son Seeds. Their last name was slowly flaking off but the ‘and Son’ was bright and new.
With renewed confidence, Dean knocked on the farmhouse door. It was noon, so the whole family should be in – and he couldn’t see anyone in the fields that stretched on behind the house. He only had to wait a moment for the door to be opened by a boy about his age, skinnier than he was – all knobby elbows and knocking knees, with black hair and blue eyes.
The boy – Dean knew he was a Novak, but he didn’t know which one exactly – looked at him curiously. “Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Dean Winchester,” he said. “I’m with Winchester and Son Seeds – your family ordered corn seeds from us and I’m here to deliver them.”
They weren’t much ones for public displays of affection, but Sam knew all the tiny gestures.
Cas sometimes wore Dean’s shirts. Not in the patchwork motley sort of way he’d worn both Dean and Sam’s things in the first weeks they’d found him after the Fall, but with a quiet pride. He held himself differently when he wore Dean’s shirts, as though he was more aware of the fabric against his skin, of the very visible symbol he was displaying by wearing them. Sam wasn’t sure whether Dean noticed the subtle change in Cas’s demeanor, or if Dean just liked to look at Cas wearing his clothes, but Sam definitely noticed the way Dean’s eyes lingered on the fallen angel on the occasions that Cas opted to dress himself from Dean’s duffel rather than his own.
The pattern of the beer was something Sam was rather proud of himself for figuring out - the beer cycled, depending on who had done the grocery run that week: when Cas had done the shopping, it would be Dean’s favorite amber in the fridge, but when Dean shopped, it was Cas’s lager of choice.
When Dean drove, Cas got shotgun. If you didn’t know Dean, you didn’t know the kind of importance Dean placed in who got to sit next to him as the miles rolled away under the tires. But Sam knew Dean, and had been in that seat for years; that Cas had usurped him wasn’t cause for jealousy at all. (There was, surprisingly, more room for Sam to stretch out when he had the backseat to himself.) Instead, it was cause for a silent celebration that his brother had finally begun to venture outside the narrow, self-imposed definition of himself that wound so tightly around Sam. He worried about that occasionally; worried that Dean wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Sam was gone. But with Cas in the front seat, he worried a little less.
And when Dean’s hand was not on the gear shift, it rested lightly upon Cas’s knee - another small gesture that was impossible to miss. Sometimes Cas would reach out and lay his hand on top of Dean’s. They didn’t give each other lingering, sappy looks when they touched like that; it was almost as though Dean was confirming to himself that Cas was still there, and Cas was reassuring Dean that yes, he was. Would always be. If they were on a long stretch of highway they’d stay like that for hours, until Dean had to downshift and he moved - but his hand always returned.
Sam couldn’t point to any one thing and say “look, they’re in love.” But he also couldn’t point at any one raindrop and say “look, it’s raining.” It was true nevertheless.
Castiel is falling.
One minute he’d been swerving his broom away from a determined bludger, reaching out a long-fingered hand for the golden blur in front of him and the next, he’s plummeting to the earth, the screams of the crowd almost drowned out by the roaring of air in his ears. The ground is looming closer and closer by the second, and the wings he’s always imagined stretching out from his back when he flies are dissolving feather by feather as he falls.
Thankfully, he passes out before he hits the ground.
When Castiel opens his eyes the first thing he sees is green. Huh, he thinks, grass. And then he closes them again.
The second time Castiel blinks them open, the green is still there, only this time he can feel the air on his face and the strong arms around his back. He startles a little and the arms tighten, holding him close to a warm chest and drawing his focus to the green of the eyes looking down at him.
Eyes, he thinks and he startles again. He’d know those eyes anywhere.
It’s been a hell of a morning.
First, Castiel’s alarm doesn’t go off. He wakes up with approximately five minutes to get out of the house, miss-lines up the buttons of his shirt, can’t find his freshly ironed pants and so has to wear the creased ones, and accidentally knocks his toothbrush into the toilet. After brushing his teeth with his finger, Cas manages to find a pair of socks without holes in them, but completely forgoes the brush and any attempt at shaving, instead clawing his way to the coffee machine. Gabriel has left his apartment an absolute mess, but he doesn’t have time do anything but be royally pissed.
As if all this isn’t bad enough, Castiel’s coffeemaker freaks out and jams, so he has to pick up something on the way, but the barista fills his cup too much and he ends up spilling it on his poorly buttoned shirt. And onto his pants. When he’s trying to wipe himself off, doing acrobatics to try and keep his messenger bag and laptop dry, he realizes his tie has been tied backwards.
Needless to say, when Cas runs down into the subway only to squeeze into a cart filled beyond its maximum capacity, he’s not a happy camper.
When the stupid train stalls in the middle of a tunnel, he’s even less happy.
When he’s in the middle of dabbing himself, letting go of the metal bar to get at a particularly wet stain, and the train jolts to a start, Castiel is embarrassed.
Why? Well, he’d noticed the supremely attractive specimen of man sitting down in front of him, but he’d spent every second since carefully looking everywhere but lighter hair and nice lips. Not that the man even acknowledged Cas at all; he’d looked up from his book only when the train had stopped, and that had been to roll his outrageously green eyes. Castiel had been treated to a better view of light freckles before the man looked down once more, long lashes fanning out against his skin.
The bottom line is that the man is very attractive.
Currently, Cas is sitting in his lap.
“You are my little…honey…”
“Bee!” Mary squeals loudly. She scrunches up her face in a proud grin and claps her pudgy little hands together.
Cas smiles at her and nods. He guides another spoonful of food toward her mouth and he feeds her. ”How does it taste?” he asks.
Mary smiles. ”Good!” she yells after she swallows it down.
Cas laughs and shakes his head. ”And who is…that?” Cas asks pointing to Dean who is doing the dishes.
Mary looks over at her father and blushes. ”Dada!” she yells.
Dean turns around and winks at her. ”Hey there, pretty lady,” he says.
Mary giggles and turns back to Cas, staring at him expectantly, waiting for more food, and waiting for the last part of their game.
“And who is this?” he asks pressing a finger against his chest.
Mary’s entire face lights up and she smiles so wide, her budding teeth at the bottom of her mouth are exposed. ”Papa!” she shouts loudly.
Cas laughs and nods. ”I love you, honey bee,” he says.
Mary smiles and blushes. “Love you, papa!”