warikashi
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“You’re one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan,
Designed and directed by his red right hand.”
It all starts with the mysterious note left on Dean’s chair.
It all ends with Dean coming to terms not only with what he’s capable of, but how much that knowledge doesn’t bother him.Series
- Part 1 of Murder Ballads
- Language:
- English
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- 85,232
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- 20/20
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- 6
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Bookmarked by warikashi
20 Oct 2025
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"I had to draw all them perfectly," Cas insists, and Dean suddenly can't get rid of the image of Cas, clutching on to a Crayola washable marker, jamming it into his skin forcefully like a little kid mashes his markers on the paper in a vehement attempt to make the color deeper.
"And now you're insulted 'cause I don't appreciate 'em?" Dean asks, bewildered.
"No," Cas lies petulantly.
"Huh." The stubborn child version of Cas Dean has painted in his mind is now clutching his paper possessively, shielding it from scrutiny.
They drive in silence for a while.
"Thank you for making my freckles," Dean grouses finally, knowing that it's the only way Cas will forgive him.
((((OR, IN WHICH CAS LIKES DEAN AND HIS FRECKLES, AND DEAN IS STUBBORNLY HETEROSEXUAL))))
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,044
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- 1/1
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- 2
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- 137
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Bookmarked by warikashi
17 Oct 2025
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Sometimes, Dean dreams. It’s never happened before but these days, in a run-down motel in the middle of nowhere with a nuclear powerhouse sitting next to him and a brother across the country, he imagines that the green in his eyes in the mirror flares to power of molten gold, he thinks that if he stares at the night sky long enough he’ll find the stories written in the constellations, he’ll understand the gods behind the myths and awaken the thing, thrumming in his veins, the pulsating want that burns under his skin, waiting for a blade made of bone and teeth and for the blood running in his veins to turn to smoke that will destroy his soul.
::
The thing is, Death isn’t a person, it’s a position. And Dean Winchester? He’s next in line.Bookmarked by warikashi
09 Oct 2025
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“Should practically be waking up with your dick already in me,” Dean adds. It’s a joke, Castiel assumes, an off-hand, off-color comment, but then he continues, with sort of a dreamy sigh. “Mmm. That’d be hot, though.”
Castiel is suddenly reevaluating everything Dean was just rambling about. “I—” he attempts, fingers abruptly pausing as they trace patterns on the crown of Dean’s head. “Really?”
“Sure. ’S a thing people do. Like if I woke you up by blowing you. What’s the difference?”
It seems like a tremendous difference, actually. One Castiel is horribly intrigued by.
Bookmarked by warikashi
09 Oct 2025
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"Dean, are you all right?"
"Yeah. I'm just —" Dean shivers again. His teeth clack together. "Jesus Christ, it's cold."
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 16,627
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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- 4
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- 275
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- 5,832
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Bookmarked by warikashi
09 Oct 2025