#witch dean

[mishoru]

Another @deancasreversebang :D Funfunfun! Read the Fic the wondeful @nickelkeep wrote here

[golby-moon]

this post, like many things, is @lazarus-rose's fault for making me picture something and me having no self-control so please accept this witch!dean and familiar!cas art wherein Dean is allergic to Cas, but can't help but pet him anyway fghjgf

inspired by this thing I did a few days ago where the roles are swapped :0

(10/31/23)

[ellen-of-oz]

Wheat Fields and Jars of Light by violue

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Naomi (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Hand Jobs, Alternate Universe - Western, Vampires, Witchcraft, Canon-Typical Violence, Past Character Death, 1880s, Oral Sex Summary:

It's the mid-1880s. Grieving the loss of his twin brother, Castiel Novak is on a journey across Kansas to search for those responsible for his death. By horse, by carriage, by foot, he won't stop until he's hunted them down and gotten his revenge. What he finds, though, is that nothing in the world is quite what he thought it was.

[saltnhalo]

Castiel has never felt such distance in the bond between him and Dean as he does now.

It’s hard, being separate from his witch, and something in Castiel’s soul aches. It’s just for a few days, he tells himself, but it doesn’t help. He paces back and forth across their empty bedroom, then shifts, huddling atop the headboard in a miserable mess of black feathers.

I miss you, he thinks as he tugs at his connection with Dean, and feels the returning pull barely a moment later.

No matter how far apart they are… Dean will always be with him.

[saltnhalo]

The Weight of a Promise | Teen, 6k

Four years ago, Dean said goodbye to his childhood best friend and the only familiar he’d ever considered bonding with.

Tonight is the matching ball, where Dean, as the crown prince and eligible witch, is expected to make an appearance. He’s determined not to dance, and definitely not to bond—until he meets an alluring familiar wearing a raven’s mask.

witch Dean, familiar Cas, prince Dean, pining, masquerades 

[saltnhalo]

The full moon is high, and Dean’s hands are dirt-caked and sore from work. He sits in his garden, amongst the silver-washed grass, and feels the strength of the garden’s magic wash over him. These late nights are always worth it for the power that the moon gives him.

A shadow passes overhead, but Dean doesn’t look up, just smiles as the crow settles onto the ground beside him. There’s a breath of wind, and then Cas is leaning against him, shoulder to shoulder. They share a tired smile, and their hands find each other, fingers intertwining despite the dirt.

[saltnhalo]

palinoia

palinoia: the compulsive repetition of an act until it is perfect.

Every morning, there is a crow that comes to Dean’s window.

Sometimes it’s early, before the sun has fully risen, and Dean will wake to find a memento on his windowsill; a coin, a key, a particularly pearlescent button. Other times, the crow arrives when he’s awake, announcing its presence with a caw muffled by whatever it’s holding in its beak.

Those times, Dean can’t help but grin fondly. He’ll set aside whatever herbs or potion he’s working on and make his way over to the window, unlatching and opening it with a wave of his fingers since he’s usually too eager to wait. He’s got a collection of trinkets like these now, and every morning he looks forward to the visit from his crow to see what the new dawn will bring. Every familiar courts their chosen witch differently, and the crow’s method is just so damn sweet—especially with the way it ruffles its wings proudly whenever Dean says “thank you.”

Their little dance continues for several weeks. Just like the variance with the crow’s arrival time, whether or not it hangs around also varies. Sometimes it leaves right away, giving Dean a somewhat-apologetic caw before hopping off the windowsill and flying away.

Other times, though, it stays.

It’ll keep Dean company as he works, nestled in a puff of black feathers by the open window or perched on the back of Dean’s chair, curiously watching everything he does—especially if he’s working with metal or glass that happens to catch the light nicely. He gets used to the crow’s visits, and the ever-expanding collection of feathers and coins and beads and whatever else the crow deems fit to be given to Dean as a gift.

And then one morning, Dean wakes up to find that the visitor perched on his windowsill is no longer a crow at all.

Instead, there is a man lounging on the sill of the open window, back leaning against the side of the windowframe and one leg dangling off the edge into the open air. His hair is as dark as his feathers were, and he’s barefoot and bare-chested, wearing a pair of dark-wash jeans that hug strong thighs and a fantastic ass.

Dean sucks in a shocked breath, and when the man turns his head sharply, his wide eyes are the exact same shade of blue as those of Dean’s crow.

“It’s you,” Dean breathes, and the man’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile. He swings his legs over so that he’s sitting facing Dean, his bare feet almost brushing the floor of Dean’s bedroom.

“Yes,” he says, and his voice is deep and serious, but there’s a lightness in his eyes that makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat. “It’s me. My name is Castiel.”

“I’m Dean.”

The smile becomes wider, more solid. “I know.”

Of course he knows, he’s been visiting me for the last month in his animal form. Dean feels his cheeks flush red, and he clears his throat. “Is, uh. Is there a reason you’re… like this today?” He gestures to all of Castiel, from his rumpled hair to his bare chest to the jeans that hug his legs in all the right places. Fuck.

Castiel reaches for his pocket, but whatever he pulls out stays hidden away in his carefully-curled fist. “There is,” he confirms, but now there’s a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I… I’ve been courting you as my witch for a while, and I really like you, and I was thinking that maybe…”

He trails off and swallows, as though his words are failing him. Instead, he slowly uncurls his fingers, until Dean sees what he’s been keeping hidden in his hand.

It’s a necklace, made of silver-threaded black cord. Hanging from it is a coin, polished so brightly that it gleams even in the early morning sunlight, and a single blue-black feather.

“I thought you might like to be my witch,” Castiel says quietly.

There was never any doubt in Dean’s mind that, when this moment came, he’d turn the crow familiar down.

“Of course I will, Cas.”

[saltnhalo]

kairos

kairos: the critical moment.part of my crow familiar!Cas verse, along with palinoia and nazlanmak.

In the light of the moon, Cas is a different creature entirely.

He is dark-washed feathers tipped with silver as he wheels overhead, wings stretched out to blot out the stars and, sometimes, the moon. His shadow passes over the grass around Dean, over his outstretched hands, over his face when he tips it up towards the sky. The full moon cannot be wasted, one of the few times that Dean is able to complete this particular spell, but the call of his familiar is, at times, too strong.

While Dean works, Cas flies, carefree and happy as he dances in the cold night air. Dean can practically feelit radiating off him in the loops and spirals he makes and the dramatic flicks of his feathers. “Show-off,” he mutters under his breath as he watches, cauldron in front of him temporarily forgotten where he kneels in the damp grass and looks up to where the feathered shadow dances across the sky.

Castiel just caws, cocky and relaxed. You’d better get back to work, that spell isn’t going to cast itself, he teases, stretching out his wings and falling lazily into a dive.

Dean flips his familiar off. “You’re not exactly helping,” he points out, but there’s a curve to his lips as he says it. “I thought having a familiar was supposed to make things easy, not be a distraction.”

Cas rolls in midair with a twitch of his wings as he nears the ground—before he makes contact, though, mere feet away from Dean, he shifts, and touches down gracefully on the grass. The last few yards are closed by six feet of gorgeous, human familiar. “I’m distracting, am I?” he asks with a grin, coming to a stop in front of Dean’s cauldron and tilting his head.

He’s really naked. Dean definitely can’t be expected to concentrate like this.

“Uh, kinda,” he points out, leaning his hands on his thighs and looking up at Cas. The moonlight gleams off his ear piercings and the necklace that he never takes off. “You do remember that I can only do this spell once every month, right?”

“I know.” Cas looks up at the moon, eyes closed for a moment, as though he’s savouring the silvered wash across his skin. “I just like being out here. Your magic is so strong on these nights that I can feel it all the way through my own.” He shivers. “I just makes me want to… fly.”

Dean’s heart thuds unevenly in his chest at the sight of Cas, resonating with the power of their magic and so contentbeneath the full moon. Unable to help himself, he stands, ignoring the wet patches on the knees of his jeans in favour of crossing the short space between them and pulling Cas in for a kiss.

Castiel lets out a soft, surprised sound, but melts into it easily, one arm curling around Dean’s waist and the other hand sliding blissfully into his hair. Dean’s magic simmers under his skin, and between that and the sinful way Cas is kissing him right now, his toes curl against the wet grass. When they separate, he’s breathing hard. “See?” he points out, leaning into the touch of Cas’s hand in his hair, a breathless grin curling his lips. “Distracting.”

Cas smiles and kisses him again—chastely, this time, though it still leaves Dean wanting more. “I’ll get out of your hair, then,” he says, and the only warning Dean gets is the cheeky spark in his eye before he shifts, and Dean is left holding nothing more than empty air.

“You son of a bitch,” he mutters to himself, though he can’t help but grin at the caw Cas gives as he takes to the sky once more.

You love me, his impertinent familiar says across their bond.

Dean smiles, watching him play amongst the stars and moonlight.

I do.