#castielxdean

[mewmewmewlin]

Ok deadass we need to stop looking to TPTB for validation. stop asking the actormen to validate destiel. destiel is the fandoms! destiel is the fanfic writers and the fanartists and the gif makers and the meta writers and the fancam makers and the linocut artists and the cross stitch artists and the crochet artists

[wintermadness]

✵ ` 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝑦 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 ´ ✵

[gryffindorconsultingtimelord]

Let’s all take a moment to appreciate that Misha Collins takes the time to look up Destiel fanfiction Repost from: @misha #destiel #castielxdean #fanfiction #archiveofourown #tumblr #fandom #fan #fangirls #books #movies #tvshows #nerd #nerdy #talknerdytome #avengers #harrypotter #lotr #hungergames #doctorwho #supernatural #sherlock #superwholock #got #gameofthrones #acting #podcast #listen #fun #adventure #fandomsandfantasies https://www.instagram.com/p/CSZPmx6H8HY/?utm_medium=tumblr

[lene85]

psd: (XXX)

[maddisonsdrabbles]

Suptober Day 22: Love

Cas didn’t understand a lot of things. He didn’t understand a lot of the movies Dean talked about. He didn’t understand how Heaven had grown so corrupt. But most of all, he didn’t understand love.

How did it work? Why did it make your legs feel weak when they walked in? Why did it make you forget how to breathe sometimes? Love was supposed to be a good thing. Ask any cherub. So why did it hurt so much?

Dean Winchester had been Castiel’s friend for a long time. Cas didn’t make friends very easy, he had perhaps two angels he genuinely considered his friends. But they were both dead now. One by his own hand. Dean had seen the very worst of Castiel, but he still fought for him. Dean was forgiving on the bottom line. It didn’t matter how bad Cas screwed up, deep down, Dean never hated Cas. And he merely wanted to help.

Dean Winchester knew what love was. He’d seen it in the eyes of Cassie Robinson, felt it in the arms of Lisa Braeden. Both times, it had left him hurting in a way he couldn’t get rid of. He knew what loves was, but he decided he couldn’t have it. To him, his lifestyle made it unattainable.

That, however, didn’t mean he didn’t want it. He could pretend all he wanted, but in his heart, there was empty space waiting for someone to love.

Castiel wondered if perhaps love was an ongoing joke when it came to him. It had taken a long time for him to place a name to it, but now Castiel was sure. He loved Dean Winchester. Not the same way he loved Jack or Sam, in a deeper, more profound way. The profound bond he’d spoke of so long ago was love. He loved Dean Winchester. However he feared destroying their friendship if he confessed his feelings, so he kept quiet.

Dean knew he couldn’t be in love with Castiel. Castiel was a male, and his father didn’t raise him like that. But it was starting to get harder to deny. His love for Castiel wasn’t instant, it had gradually snuck up on him. He had no chance against it. Now it was definitely there, and Dean couldn’t deny that. Regardless, he was afraid. He didn’t know this side of himself existed, and moreover, he was afraid of what Sam would think.

But right now, that didn’t seem to matter. Dean had thought he lost Castiel. Seeing the angel bound up, so battered and beaten from almost a week of being held captive by the demon Sam was slaughtering... it was too much to worry about something as frivolous as that.

“Dean...?” Cas croaked, his eyes opening slowly. Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“Damn it Cas! I thought I...” he stumbled for words where there were none. There was nothing to explain the fear of almost losing the one person you loved more than anything. Actions however....

Dean’s lips crashed against Castiel’s in a needy kiss, full of desperation and above all, love. Castiel kissed him back, to weak to match Dean’s energy. As Dean drew away, he opened his mouth to apologize, or defend himself, or something, but Cas found words before he did.

“I love you too, Dean.”

~|~

For @winchester-reload

Tag list: @petrichoravellichor

[goatlue]

The Spn final I want

I just thought about a Supernatural Final where theres Dean and Castiel dancing Boogie Wonderland, in an extremely subtext thing, and then Sam and Eileen enter the room and they be like "oh look! Let's leave them alone" but Dean notices them and stop dancing a little bit, but Castiel calls Dean to dance again, because it doesnt matter if someone else sees he and Dean. And then, Eileen invites Sam to dance Boogie Wonderland as well, and everyone is dancing with their loved ones, and the camera fades slowly, and the credits come. That's the final I want, guys.

[be-my-reverie]

Castiel: I love bees and honey.

Dean: How come?

Castiel: Bees are so adorable and honey just has that likeable trait.

Dean: I totally get that! The taste and flavour, the thickness, the stickiness-

Castiel:

Dean:

Castiel: Are we still talking about the same thing?

[wincestjel]

like the gun: chapter 2

read it on archive

fic masterpost

words: 941

<-- last chapter 

***

Dean was at his fourth session with his latest therapist. She was an older woman with short, curly hair, wearing glasses with round frames. She was sweet, but she talked slowly like Dean was a scared child.

Was he, though? She really seemed to think he was, but Dean didn’t agree. Fifteen years old wasn’t a child.

“Dean, how often do you have sex?” Like always, she was talking slow and gentle. She made it seem like if she said the wrong thing, Dean would break. Like he’d fall apart right there.

On the floor, Colt, almost a year old slept. His head was resting on Dean’s foot, always touching his handler somehow like the clingy little shit he was. Dean didn’t mind it, though. He never did. It was nice having something so tightly bonded to him, who cared so much about him that he’d do absolutely anything. And Colt would, it seemed. Colt would always be there for Dean.

“What? Why does that matter, creep?”

“I’m not asking to be creepy, Dean. But the way you’ve explained everything… it seems like you use sex as a way of coping with your past trauma.”

Dean scoffed. “That ain’t true, lady. I just like gettin’ my dick wet.” But deep down, he had a feeling it was true. He had a feeling she was right.

And that’s exactly why he got up.

“Don’t count on seeing me next week.”

Bobby was waiting for him in the room just outside the office, the walls lined with empty chairs. No wonder they were  empty-- the lady was a fucking freak! Who the hell spoke to a fifteen-year-old about his sex life? Bobby looked up, frowned. “Not this one?”

“Not this one.”

Dean’s back is pressed against the door to the janitor’s closet. He has his lips on some girl’s, one whose name he hadn’t bothered to catch. She’s blonde, gorgeous, and has the nicest tits he’s had the pleasure of feeling in a while, and that’s all that matters.

At some point, she drops to her knees and Dean’s only vaguely aware of it at first. But then his jeans are around his ankles, her hand is on him, her mouth is on him, and she’s all he can think about. His hands are in his hair, tangled with the soft, blonde strands. Lisa might not be happy to hear about this, but it doesn’t matter what she thinks, because they aren’t a thing.

By the time he’s zipping up his jeans and fixing his hair, it’s fifteen minutes past the last bell, and he knows Sam isn’t going to be pleased. A silent curse, one last kiss and Dean’s peeking out the door to make sure there’s nobody coming. When he’s certain they’re in the clear, he calls Colt over, picks up his leash and slips out. He isn’t sure when the girl does, but he assumes she lags behind by a few minutes.

Already waiting by the car, leaning up against it because it’s still locked, is Sam, and Sam definitely doesn’t look happy. He’s got his arms crossed and he’s tapping his foot like a parent ready to scold his child. And in a way, he almost is like Dean’s parent sometimes. As much as Dean had raised Sam, Sam had also raised him some. He was the one responsibility (before Colt, of course) that Dean didn’t mind having; Sam kept his brother on the right path as best as he could.

And when Sam pushes upright, straightens out to try and make himself as tall as he can, Dean knows what’s coming.

“Where the hell were you, Dean?” the kid asks, motioning towards the car. “The Impala’s locked, and I’ve been standing here like some kind of idiot for--”

“None of your business, Sammy,” Dean grunts, unlocks the car and lets his dog in.

“You were off with some girl, weren’t you?”

“Sam, I--”

“You were! Seriously, Dean?”

“I needed stress relief, okay?! I’m stressed! I needed it.”

Sam pauses, frowns. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Obviously it’s something, De. Can’t you tell me?” There’s concern in his voice, worry. For Dean, being stressed can mean something drastic or something mundane, but regardless, it always worries Sam.

A sigh, and Dean shakes his head ‘no’. He tries to get into the car, but there’s a hand on his arm that stops him and he whips around to look at Sam. “I’m failing a class and I need a tutor, okay? Christ, Sam. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Sam pauses, bites back a laugh. “That’s it? That’s all this is about? De, that isn’t a big deal. You know that, right? So many people need tutors.”

Dean groans, shakes Sam’s hand off of him, and gets into the car. “He wants that dweeb Novak to tutor me.”

“Novak?”

“Yeah, Castiel. Comes from a family of bible bangers, has like twelve brothers and a hot sister. I think I slept with her once or twice. Anyway, that guy.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about him. You obsessed or something?” Sam teases, giving Dean a shove, and Dean rolls his eyes. “Do you have the number in your phone? Give it to me.”

“My phone or his number?”

“Your phone. Give it to me.”

“What? No! Why the hell do you want my-- hey! Give that back!”

There’s a grin on Sam’s face as he leans away, quickly typing something out before giving the phone back to Dean. And when Dean looks down at what Sam wrote, his heart stops. “You bitch!”

“Jerk.”

It’s a text, sent to one Castiel Novak of course.