#meardmish

[rhapsodean]

queen dee, that’s what I call myself too. (x)

[spn-gifs]

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Source: http://meardmish.tumblr.com/post/110067758267/i-liked-it-a-lot

[guusana]

meardmish replied to your post “i have a very sad and strong suspicion that the FABULOUS leather...”

or find out the district manager for the store and complain. I'm sorry :(((

//tears 5ever

ive sent them an email. it's my favourite store so i hope they will at least offer me some sort of compensation, i dont want to return the jacket cause it’s gorgeous but i definitely wouldnt have paid as much for a non-real leather jacket :((((( but thanks for the info

[imjuststiney]

So it's gonna be forever Or it's gonna go down in flames (x)

[shootingstarcas]

tbh the entirety of "fooled around and fell in love" ;u;

fooled around and fell in love

so this fucker was sitting in my drafts for ~2 months before i posted it. i wrote the first 6 parts of the ‘verse in the fall, when i had momentum, but then real life stuff happened and i stopped working on it for a while. after that i prioritized other projects and never got around to finishing this one.

many many months later i decided i just needed to finish the ‘verse, to give myself and readers closure, so i slowly worked my way through this last installment.

i am very fond of this ‘verse. it is self-indulgent fluff where everything is sunshine and rainbows and happiness. it makes me happy.

when i was trying to find a place to end this ‘verse, i had this mental image of dean and cas dancing, in tuxedos, under a star. wedding stuff. only i knew i didn’t want to get them married, because -- unpopular opinion here -- i don’t really like wedding fics. so i dunno. that’s how the actual plot of the piece came into being.

the ‘verse started as a study in writing deaf!cas, and cas’s deafness is an important part of it. it matters to me that i integrate that into every aspect of the story. i don’t want cas’s disability to be seen as defining him, or his relationship with dean, but i want it to be present. there’s lots of signing.

this piece was harder for me to write than most of my stuff because i was just trying to finish it. but i’m also very fond of it because this ‘verse brought me to a lot of new places and a lot of new friends. this last installment is just sentimental drivel, really. it’s just dean and cas smiling and kissing each other’s faces.

[xylodemon]

dean/cas fic: five motels (1.6k, nsfw)

five motels; 1.6k, 5 things + 1, future fic, hunting husbands, nsfw

[AO3]

1. The rain picks up just west of Tulsa. By Stillwater it's coming down pretty heavy, drumming hard against the Impala's roof, a constant rumble that's louder than the radio. The wipers sluice it off the windshield in twin waterfalls, leave behind smears that blur the long curve of US 412. Sam is asleep in the backseat, his neck at a bad angle and his jacket thrown over him like a blanket, pulled up to his chin. Cas is mostly awake; he his has hand on Dean's thigh, keeps worrying his thumb over a worn spot on Dean's jeans.

They're only five hours outside of Lebanon, but they've been on the road about nine, and Dean's old enough now that fourteen hours behind the wheel is something he'll feel for the next two days. A slow ache has already put down roots in the small of his back; by morning, it'll have climbed up into his shoulders, bloomed stiff and tight at the back of his neck.

He takes the next exit, which winds to a stop beside the bright flare of a Gas & Sip. Cas blinks at the white-wash of lights, his hand slipping down to Dean's knee. The first motel is just a few blocks down. Its driveway is a pothole full of rainwater; the Impala jolts over it, spraying mud and gravel onto the hedge shadowing the sidewalk.

"Hey," Sam mumbles, yawning and rubbing his face. "Are we home?"

Dean curls his hand around Cas', rubs his thumb over Cas' knuckles. "Not yet."

2. Dean startles awake to the bed dipping and groaning. He grumbles, blinking as he leans up on his elbow; before he can reach for his knife, a hand soothes through his hair, easy and soft and familiar.

"It's just me," Cas says, his voice a low burr. He touches the side of Dean's face, sliding his hand down Dean's jaw, rubbing his thumb at the corner of Dean's mouth. "Go back to sleep."

Dean's throat is so dry he has to clear it twice before he can talk; their motel room is stuffy, musty from old cigarette smoke and years of the heater baking the wood paneling. "Where's Sam?"

"He went back to his room," Cas says, kicking the ugly bedspread away. He stretches out along Dean's side, and the bed creaks and whines in complaint. "It's nearly two. He was falling asleep at his computer."

"Did he find anything?" Dean asks, the words breaking up around a yawn. They're in Idaho, too far from the bunker not to pick up a job for the return trip.

"Colorado. Something about desecrated graves near Grand Junction."

"Great. I fucking hate ghouls."

Cas huffs under his breath, then rolls over, hooking his thigh over Dean's and pressing his mouth to the corner of Dean's jaw. "Go back to sleep."

3. "Hold still," Cas says, his hand warm and sweaty at the curve of Dean's neck. He pauses there just long enough to take a breath, then slides his fingers down a little, skirting the place where a bent fence wire had gouged Dean's shoulder. "I can't see."

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"So are you," Dean counters, reaching for Cas' arm. The side of it is red and raw from his elbow to his wrist; it must've happened when he tackled the werewolf to the ground.

Cas frowns at his arm for a second, then shrugs. "It's just a scrape."

"I can't believe you just rushed the sonofabitch."

"It had Sam cornered, and my gun was jammed," Cas says, shrugging again. He also has a bruise on his cheek, roughly the size of a fist and already threatening purple. "Let me see your shoulder."

"Okay, okay." It's actually starting to hurt now -- now that the adrenalin is wearing off -- a bright sunburst of pain that flares halfway down his arm every time he moves. He sits on the toilet with his back to the sink, taking a long, slow shot of whiskey as Cas runs the hot water and grabs a washrag from the rack. "How does it look?"

"It needs stitches."

"Great." Dean takes another shot, then sets the whiskey bottle on the edge of the tub. The label is covered in sticky-red fingerprints from Cas' bloody hands.

"Your brother's a better doctor than I am."

"He could be gone half the night dumping that body."

"Dean."

Dean tips his head back, pressing his mouth to the stubbly skin under Cas' chin. "I trust you."

4. It's a dull, gray morning; rainclouds are waiting on the colorless horizon, and the air is just cold enough that Dean's breath takes shape in front of his face. He loads the last of the gear into the trunk, then slams the lid closed and leans back against it, blowing on his half-frozen hands before tucking them into his pockets. Behind him, the vacancy sign buzzes louder than a swarm of bees. The parking lot smells like damp asphalt and the Biggerson's across the street -- syrup and burnt eggs and sausage grease and frying oil.

Cas comes out a few minutes later, bundled in a thick, army-green coat and a flannel that used to be Dean's. He walks toward the car, yawning, his boots crunching on the loose gravel scattered across the path, then nudges in to stand between Dean's legs and noses at Dean's jaw for a kiss. Dean pulls him close; he slips his arms inside Cas' coat, sneaking his hand under Cas' shirts, humming into the kiss when he finds warm skin.

"Morning."

"Morning," Cas says, his voice quiet, still sleep-thick.

He kisses Dean again. A gust of wind blows through the parking lot. Up on the interstate, a semi rattles by, blasting its horn. Dean lets his teeth catch the well of Cas' lip, then makes himself pull back. They need to wake up Sam. They're supposed to be getting an early start.

5. Cas sucks a kiss into the hollow of Dean's throat, then drags his lips up, biting at the corner of Dean's jaw before kissing Dean's mouth. He leans into Dean with all his weight, pinning Dean back against the scratchy cushions, shifting until his thigh is rubbing against Dean's dick. They barely have enough room to move; Dean has one foot on the floor, and Cas is holding onto the back of the couch with one hand. His other hand is knotted in Dean's hair; he tugs a little, then touches Dean's face, tracing his fingers down the line of Dean's jaw before pushing them into his mouth.

"You're gorgeous like this," Cas says, his tie hanging crooked and loose. He rides Dean's thigh for a few moments, shameless, making a low, dirty noise as Dean's tongue slips around his fingers. "I want, I want you --"

Dean's phone buzzes on the table; they were supposed to meet Sam at the morgue half an hour ago. Cas sits up on his knees, moaning as Dean nips at his fingers, sucks them in deep. Dean fumbles with the buttons and zippers on their slacks; once their dicks are out, Cas curls his spit-slick hand around both of them, leaning in close again as he starts to stroke.

"Fuck," Dean pants, arching up, trying to get closer, trying to get more. He twists his hand into Cas' hair, tugging until he can reach Cas' mouth, until he can kiss him, breathe in the noises he's making.

Dean's phone buzzes again. Cas chokes out Dean's name, his hips rolling as he fucks into his fist, fucks against Dean's dick. Heat coils around Dean's spine, pulling tight, ready to snap. He works his hand between them, wrapping it around Cas', threading their fingers together. His phone buzzes again, but Cas is coming, and then so is he, all over the front of his slacks, his wrinkled fed shirt.

+1. "Someone's coming," Cas says, just as Dean starts picking the lock on the haunted apartment.

"Who is it?"

"I think it's the property manager. It looks like the woman from the picture."

"Fuck," Dean says, shoving his lockpick in his pocket. They're in street clothes, and they don't have their fed badges. "I'll just --"

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the manager says, her tone at least two parts suspicious. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Yes, you can," Cas says smoothly, before Dean can even blink. "My husband and I are looking for a new apartment. We saw your sign as we were driving by and thought we'd see what you have."

"Yes, of course," she says, finding her smile. "We have two units available -- this one, and one on the second floor. The second floor unit is larger, if you --"

"This one is closer to the car port." Cas eyes Dean sideways and sighs indulgently. "He's a little... particular about his car."

"Of course. I have the keys, so we can just step right in."

+

They grab a motel after lunch, Dean checks them in while Cas packs up the gear and texts Sam.

The room is a powder-pink disco nightmare. Dean almost chickens out when he sees it. Almost.

"Dean?" Cas asks, frowning at the art deco excuse for a couch.

"It's the honeymoon suite. You know, since we're married."

Officially, they're not, and they probably never will be. Dean is legally dead, and Cas technically doesn't exist, but Dean figures it isn't the paper that matters. He's lived his entire life outside the law anyway.

"I mean," Dean says uncertainly, because Cas has gone weirdly quiet," if that's -- if you -- we don't, um." He pauses, makes himself take a deep breath. "I just want you to know that I'm all in. You know, forever."

"I know." Cas kisses him, soft and sweet and perfect. "I know."

[imjuststiney]

Dean Winchester who has a full ride scholarship to a top engineering school but decides he wants to make some extra spending and fun money.

Dean, who, ok, watches enough porn to know that you can make some nice bank with webcams and realizes it’s something he’d totally be into.

Dean asking his friend Charlie to show him how to go about setting up a site, at which point Charlie answers, “Winchester, I’ll help you but I swear to God, if I even catch I glimpse of your dick, I’m out.”

Dean on his first few times, trying nothing more than some pretty vanilla videos of him jerking off.

Dean accidentally finding his niche the day he forgets he’s been wearing lace panties all day, as he begins stroking his cock.

His visitor counter triples after that.

From then on the panties become a mainstay of his shows; because his audience seems to like them and Dean most definitely does.

Dean wearing his pretty, white, frilly panties as he caresses his cock, dipping his hand further inside the garment to fondle his sac until he’s coming with a shout and dirtying the innocent looking cotton fabric with streaks of come.

Dean in hot pink satin panties, pushed just enough to the side that he can ride the almost exact colored dildo that’s suction cupped to his coffee table. Giving his audience the perfect view of the dildo sliding in and out of his greedy hole; as he fucks himself fast and hard to a screaming orgasm. 

Dean making more than enough money that he never has to endure the stress of having to choose between studying for school or paying his bills.

Dean being happy, healthy and comfortable in his sexuality, however he wishes to express it.

Dean being secure in his educational path and in the knowledge that once he graduates he’ll succeed in a career he absolutely loves.

[imjuststiney]

Cas and Charlie take a trip to Wal Mart Established DeanCas

“Do you believe these would fit Dean?”

When Charlie turned toward Castiel to answer his question she had not expected him to be holding up a pair of lace see thru women’s Batman underwear.

“Whoa. Ok. One... that’s not a question I need to even be near. Dean’s like my brother...so gross. And two... holy crap, I thought the whole Rhonda Hurley thing was just an Edlund literary elaboration. Apparently not.”

Despite Castiel’s confused squint, Charlie clapped him on the shoulder and gave one last direction before making her hasty exit.

“I’m going to go way over there, far away from you looking for panties for Dean. Good luck, though. Come find me when you’re thoroughly done with all of this.”

*****

Dean looked up from the war room table where he and Sam were going over a case that appeared to be ghouls; as happy chattering noise announced Cas and Charlie’s return from their supply run.

“Hey, get anything good?” Dean asked; leaning back in his chair.

“Cas did.” Charlie smirked suspiciously before turning to his brother. “Sam, can you help me put these groceries away...like pronto.”

Dean tried to get her attention to find out what the hell she was being so cagey about, but Charlie refused to meet his eye as she dragged a very confused looking Sam out of the room. 

“So Cas, what’d ya get that’s got Charlie acting so weird?” Dean asked as Castiel stood on the other side of the table, plastic Wal Mart bag clutched tightly in his fist.

“Technically, this was something she already knew because of Chuck’s writings.”

“Oh, that son of a bitch. If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him.” Dean swiped a hand over his face, “Alright, lay it on me.”

Castiel pushed the bag across the table until it sat, gray and imposing in front of Dean.

Untying the knot, Dean reached in and felt...lace?

“What did you...” He didn’t finish his sentence as he brought out black sheer lace panties with a yellow border and HOLY SHIT a yellow rhinestone bat signal.

“DUDE!” Dean abruptly stood up, panties still clutched in his left hand; the right he used to grab Castiel’s tie and haul him nearly all the way across the table for a sloppy appreciative kiss.

“These are awesome. Wanna come watch me try ‘em on?” Dean asked with a lascivious grin as soon he broke the kiss.