hi, all! i'm ajax, and welcome to my blog!
before we get too far into this post, please take a moment to read over my rules so that you may get a better feel for what to expect.
- this blog will be multifandom, so if that bothers you, i would prefer for you to not interact. my brain bounces between interests a lot, although there are times when i focus solely on a specific one for a while.
- if you'd like to take a peek at my masterlist/tags, feel free! this post will be routinely updated as more gets created, so keep an eye on it if you'd like to better keep up with whatever appears on this blog!
- as mentioned in my rules post, i am a yumejin. dreaming holds a proper list of my f/os + sharing status. i will respect your boundaries as long as you respect mine.
- i am a non-binary queer adult, and as such, my works will often be heavily queer-focused.
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want to check out my other socials? feel free to find me at twitter ᐟ if you'd prefer to communicate via discord, don't be shy to send me a dm to exchange usernames!
interested in my previous writing? find them at ao3 ᐟ
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currently watching:
.ᐟ divider credit goes to @rmstitanics
blog header credit goes to @cafe-mysa .ᐟ
๋࣭⭑atlas : headcanons on how castiel would be with an autistic reader :]
๋࣭⭑binary stars : castiel x autistic!reader (gn)
๋࣭⭑classification : fluff
๋࣭⭑stellar density : 1.4k
๋࣭⭑omens : mentions of overwhelm/overstimulation, i think that's it ???
๋࣭⭑message in a bottle : requested !! i decided headcanon style was better for this bcs it was easier to get my thoughts out !! also, disclaimer; i know that every autistic person has their own unique experiences. this is not encompassing every part of being autistic because it's quite simply impossible for me to do that :]
๋࣭⭑taglist ༊彡 masterlist ༊彡 k's ama !
castiel would...
he has your safe foods in the bunker/motel room, and he knows where to get them if you run out. he remembers which diners have safe food and which ones have your 'safe food', but make it incorrectly. He definitely has a trench coat pocket dedicated to safe snacks for you in case the place you're eating at doesn't have anything for you, or if you've gone too long without eating something. He's very good at knowing when you're putting off nutrition or water, and he's very good at getting you to eat or drink something without making you feel cramped or pressured
he catalogues your texture issues and makes sure any clothes you buy or food you eat doesn't have offensive textures. Upon discovering his trench coat was comforting to you but that the texture made you want to cry, he went with you and bought a new one with a texture you approved of, wearing it everywhere so that it would have his warmth in the fabric for you when you need the comfort. He's very accomodating of any changes in your texture tolerances, and doesn't ever get mad at you for having those things change, even when it's a little inconvenient to him. He's patient with you because he loves you, not because he has to be patient
if you have issues with touch he is plenty content to just sit with you instead. Even though he sometimes wants that physical affection from you, he never puts your issues with it in second place. To him, that's the most important thing; that you're comfortable, safe, and that you feel okay enough to be around him, even when you can't handle him touching you. He always keeps it an option for you in case you change your mind, but he is perfectly happy to sit beside you and do his own thing while you do whatever it is that you're doing
if you're someone with hyperfixations/special interests he is more than happy to listen to you talk about them. If it's a book, he's finding any copies of it that he can for you so that you can have special versions of it. If it's a show or a movie, he'll watch it with you however many times you want, whenever you ask. If it's something you read in a book, or a topic you learned somewhere, he'll let you tell him everything about it, even if he already knows it. If it's a hobby, he'll buy you supplies for it or locate them from wherever he can find them for you. He never makes you feel bad for abandoning an interest either; moving on is a normal part of life, he affirms you. Never feel bad for that.
he never makes you feel small for being different. If other people aren't welcoming of you, he's a safe place you can retreat to when it's too much. He never makes you feel like you're less than him for having those differences, and he will do anything he can to accomodate you. Even if that means talking someone off and using a bit of his angel mojo to make sure they don't bother you, no matter how many times you've told him to stop doing that. He finds there's something special in you with the way that you are, something that sets you apart and makes you beyond valuable. He listens when you speak, treasures all your input, even if it ends up being wrong or not something they can use at that point
he becomes a safe place for you when you're feeling overwhelmed. One of the benefits of dating an angel is that he has a control over situations you don't have. If it's too loud or too bright somewhere, he can dim the lights or muffle the sound for you without having it affect anyone else in the space. He finds his eyes sensitive to the light, so the lamp is the only thing on in your bedroom when the overhead light is too bright and overstimulating. He'll walk with you if you need to get up and move, if you need to leave the room he's right behind you, and if you're getting to a point where you're worried you might snap, he's quick to diffuse the situation and make sure you have time to calm down in a safe place. Even if you're in the middle of nowhere, he learns to manipulate his presence into something safe for you, something you can lean on when you need it, and something you never have to feel guilty for needing
if eye contact is a struggle for you he never expects you to look at him. In fact, as an angel, he's much more comfortable with people looking away from him; even though he lives in a human vessel, he still has a continual fear that someone might see his true form by accident. He's more than happy if you look anywhere but at him, because it soothes your discomfort and his fear at the same time. He never expects eye contact from you, and any time you do look him in the eyes, he takes the moment to commit your eye colour to memory and tell you how beautiful they are. Where he'd normally comfort people by saying 'look at me', he comforts you by asking you to 'be here with me'
if you're overwhelmed to the point of panic he doesn't leave you alone. He doesn't leave you to flounder in those emotions by yourself. Instead, he offers you a hand to hold if you'd like, a quiet place to move to when you're ready, and all the time in the world to talk and be with him until you feel better. He takes your emotional regulation very seriously, and he never wants you to push your feelings down for something he likes. He understands you, and if there's something he misses, he wants to learn what it is so that he can help you better in the future. It matters to him that you feel safe enough with him to let yourself panic or get overwhelmed or cry about something, and if you don't feel like you can do that with him, he does everything he can to help you. You get the final say, always, but he needs you to know that he's always there for you
if you're a person who fidgets a lot he has something with him for you. Even if you have your own, he has extras in case you lose one or break one by accident. If you're stuck somewhere without a toy to fidget with or anything like that, he offers up the hem of his jacket, his fingers, the plush of his arm or his thigh. Even the laces on his shoes if you need a string to tie into knots. Because he's an angel, if you're someone who picks at your skin often, he is always there to heal it after; the beds of your nails, your chapped lips, the bumps on your skin that stubbornly never seem to leave. He's there to either be your fidget or help you heal after using your fidgets. Whatever works for you, he will accomodate
the only downside is that he, too, takes things very literally. Sometimes he can help you distinguish when someone means something literally or not, but sometimes he's just as lost as you are, and it's the blind leading the blind. There's a humour to that situation, but it does get frustrating. Cas has made sure Sam is willing to help in those situations, because he recognizes when the both of you need clarification. Just like Cas, Sam is patient with you and patient while explaining it, even if you don't understand why they don't mean what they said. He'll talk you through it and explain it as best he can, because he also wants you to feel comfortable. He helps because he cares, but he also helps because Cas asked him to, and nobody loves you more than Cas does
summary dean loves you too much, he starts to envision you!
content gn!reader, unestablished relationship, dean is yearning very very much and is super in love, brief mention of blood (cut from a razor), a dreamt-up kiss, use of sweetheart and pretty, not proofread
masterlist ♡
wc 430
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It's difficult for Dean to do benign things without thinking of you. He shaves gritty stubble down into something smoother and sees your form in the mirror, sitting on the counter, can almost hear your voice talk and talk and talk.
About nothing. Or maybe everything. He doesn't need you to talk about anything at all, just wants you to talk to him. He likes when you read off from the books in your head. Likes when you tell him about your dreams. He can't tell you his.
The razor bites him cold on the jaw but he doesn't flinch. Watches as a crimson bead forms and works his throat. Conjured, envisioned version of you reaches for a square of tissue and dots it away.
He blinks into a touch that isn't there.
He would say thank you and tack on a pretty. Give you a kiss on the cheek and one on the lips, too, if you smiled soft and flowery and he couldn't resist wanting to keep it stuck there.
A very real knock on the half-open bathroom door brings him back, but you're there still. Standing beside the doorframe now and watching him a little mussed, having just woken from a nap on another knotted mattress. He wanted to lay beneath you. He's softer and warmer.
"Hi," you murmur. "You look different."
He holds up the razor in silent show and shrugs.
"You look out of it," he retorts, not unkindly. He sounds too gentle for his own ears. "Nap was good?"
"It was satisfactory," you say.
He smiles. Satisfactory. Flicks on the water and rinses the blade and feels lighter, better, less burdened now that you're here. He can look away without worrying that the image of you will fade. Can smell your subtle vanilla and rain.
"I was gonna head down to the diner in a few. Get a coke. Wanna come?" he asks.
You nod and shuffle closer, leaning against the counter. You're pretty even beneath garish, flickering light. Shirt slipping off a shoulder and beckoning him to kiss your exposed skin.
"Can we drive for a while after?"
Of course, absolutely, whatever you want, I'll run the gas out and push the car myself after, if you want to keep going.
"Yeah, sweetheart."
Deja vu, as you smile small and wipe a smear of shaving cream from above his lip. Your thumb is delicate. How could it send such a wave through him? It groans and crashes and laps at his ribs and heart and stomach.
He leans into touch that is here.
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writers block is hitting me in the back of the head over and over with a hammer
cw use of baby, pretty, sweetheart. kisses and cuddling !
⊹ dean lets you trim his hair. he sits on the closed toilet lid with warm hands holding your hips, looking up at you with shiny eyes, feeling much too fuzzy inside. he likes the feel of your fingers brushing over his scalp. you'll hook a couple beneath his chin to tilt his head this way and that, and he leans into the touch completely.
"you're good at this, baby."
he loves how close you are, how soft you feel under his palms. when you finish and set down the scissors, he draws it all out, not wanting to get up yet, and presses his face to your stomach. gives soft, chaste kisses to your navel.
"couple minutes," he mumbles. "wanna stay here, pretty."
⊹ dean likes washing dishes with you. bumps his shoulder to yours and loves the way your smile blooms all pretty, your quiet laugh. he listens to you talk about your day, so fond, it spreads fast through his chest. silence is good, too. it lasts until he flicks water onto your cheek with his fingers.
⊹ mornings are very slow with him. you often wake with his nose shoved against your neck, his body partially curled over yours, radiating amber heat. his lashes only flutter when your fingertips petal down the light freckles of his bicep.
"sweetheart," he breathes. "y'smell good."
he keeps you in bed for a long, long while.
⊹ taking care of you comes very naturally to him. whenever you fall sick, he makes sure you're resting properly and bestows very careful kisses to your dewy cheeks and forehead. he replaces tissue boxes once emptied and tucks close to your side when you pull him in. doesn't care if he catches the bug, just wants to make you feel better.
thinking so much abt dean…. been thinking a lot abt hauntedroses lore too, i really wanna get around to like writing stuff out for it all because it keeps !! rattling around in my brain and i just Need to put it out on something !!!
⌖ when you're quiet, boots shuffling against the tacky floor of another motel room, weary after a yawning hunt, he'll step close. watch you for a moment, bend down to see your eyes, not prodding. familiar silence. until his arms circle your waist to pull you against him and his chin wedges over your shoulder.
he breathes your soft scent and a tight knot falls undone where it had been straining in the pit of his chest. you stay like that for a while. he'll murmur, sway you gently on your feet, call you baby and pretty in a low, syrupy voice before helping you wash up and settle for the night.
⌖ in bed, when he's just begun to blink awake, and the first thing he makes out through the bleariness of his gaze is you. he thinks you're an angel for a second, remembers he's not dreaming anymore, and thinks you're an angel still.
he's already formed to your side, an arm slung warm along the softness of your stomach, but wants to be much closer. he would fit himself beneath your skin if you'd let him, keep you warm forever. his best substitute is to clamber over you as your eyelids flutter and press his cheek against the beat of your heart.
one hand splays on your hip and squeezes so gentle. his forearm slips under your back to keep you pressed up to him. your fingertips will reach to flit through the mussed, spiked tufts of his hair. his mind clutters with thoughts of loving you, before he drifts again.
⌖ under the moon, and its gleaming shafts of silver. your chiming laugh in his ears, as you stand next to him and contemplate the vending machine in front with furrowed brows. he's teasing, hands shoved deep into denim pockets. thinking you're pretty.
when you turn back towards the room, wrappers noisy in your grip, his hand shoots out for your sleeve. it's instinctual. he wants just a few more minutes with you, out here, amidst the cool air.
"c'mere, sweetheart."
you talk to him about the stars as he holds you, he listens and feels safe. doesn't need to be anything. his palm is a soothing pressure on your lower back, smoothing circles there. your voice is too good, too lovely, he'd like to remain here until moss grows up his legs.
⌖ at your door, when he's scared and alone with a terrible ache climbing his throat. breathing in clipped huffs because he doesn't want to do it anymore, can't be brave tonight, he only needs you.
he burrows into your chest while you stand on the porch step above, and sinks someplace safe and sweet. sweeps his shaking hands down your sides and isn't quite sure where to settle them, suddenly, but lets you guide him. follows at your heel with his fingers through a loop of your jeans and is taken inside.
he keeps close the whole night. until the sun blooms into a pale sky and kisses his skin through your bedroom window. he considers never leaving.
who me? oh I'm just thinking about dean winchester being touch starved . . .
💻 : touch starved! dean soft x reader
masterlist
touch starved! dean who always leaves his hand lingering on whatever object he hands just to feel your hand touch his for a little longer.
touch starved! dean is the kind of person that will stare at your hands until sam nudges him to focus on what someone is saying about a case.
touch starved! dean that loves it when you help him with his injuries just because he feels your warmth on his skin.
touch starved! dean that leans into you whenever you fix his hair or hug him after not seeing him for so long.
touch starved! dean who wants to rests his hand on your thigh so bad that he twitches while driving in the impala with sam in the back sleeping.
touch starved! dean who needs more than both your skin brushing against each other
touch starved! dean who poured everything into the kiss you shared with his hand on the back of your neck, one on your waist, his body against yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.
touch starved! dean who feels at peace every time you're sleeping next to him and your limbs being tangled together.
Imagine cuddling with your romantic f/o before you two began dating and having weird romantic tension already. For some reason it feels SUPER. NICE. And you really want to confess your love to them already. But you just don't really know how to do so yet
summary dean is with you always. especially when you can't sleep after a hunt !
content gn!reader, fluff, quiet comfort, unestablished relationship but dean and reader are very in love, dean is yearning badly, use of sweetheart and angel !
masterlist ♡ requested
wc 469
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Dean doesn't mean to wake you. He only wants to keep you warm, crouching low to the couch, admiring you in a way he hopes isn't creepy or unwanted. Eyes gentle, adjusting to the dark shroud of the room, he blinks and pulls a knit blanket over your body.
You're pretty in the dark. Pretty in the light.
He can barely see you. Soft puffs of your breath pillow the silence and turn it soothing. He could sleep on the floor. Stretch along the scratched, motel rug and ignore the dusty smell and ensure you're okay all night long.
"Dean," you murmur. He squints. You look dead asleep still.
"...How d'you know I'm here?"
You rustle, and tiny crescent gleams make up your eyes. His chest does something funny, patters light and sweet when you reach a hand out to his shoulder. Your thumb kisses his neck. He's glad the lights are out.
"You make noise," you whisper succinctly.
His lips tug and he smiles mild, fond, and brings your hand to slip down into his palm. He squeezes twice. Your voice snags on his ear, just subtly tense. Maybe he's imagining it, too attentive. But when has he ever let details fall to chance? He can handle being called annoying, overbearing. A small chip to take for worrying over you.
"Have you been sleeping at all?"
"...A little. My brain won't shut off."
He feels that like a velvet thud of knuckle to his heart. Familiar. You sit up and back against paled cushions, hand still caught in his.
"I'll listen, sweetheart. If you wanna talk."
You nod slow and look so far away. He'd like bring you back but feels a little out of his depth. What can he offer that isn't among the secret, tender things he wants so badly with you?
I love you. You can come to my bed and stay there forever and sink deep into the mattress springs with me.
"Wanna take a drive?" he asks instead.
Your hands together are melding heat. He watches as you lean close and his lungs hiccup when your forehead plants lightly to his. He doesn't know if he's allowed to move. Frozen as a statue, he thinks you'd be one of those smooth, marble ones in museums.
"That would be nice," you say. "Please. Thank you."
He's the only one in the world who can hear you right now. Sweetness fills every inch of his chest, it overflows in a big rise to his face, and stains your nose where the tip of his nudges.
"Yeah, angel. Anytime, c'mon."
There's a tingling to his lashes, eyelids leathery. Doesn't matter. He pulls you from the couch and isn't sure which fingers are his or yours anymore. He will drive on and on and ache.
happy pride month!! i hope everyone, whether you are out or not, whether you have a firm grasp on your identity or you’re still trying to figure yourself out, has a wonderful time this month 🫶
the world has been scary in regards to being queer, but i hope everyone finds safety in those they surround themselves with (:
