YES OMG YES YES YESYESYESYES!!!!

YES OMG YES YES YESYESYESYES!!!!😍😭😍😭😍😭

okay so I know it’s kinda quiet online right now, but I just want y’all’s opinions on something. I wasn’t expecting such a good reaction on the ‘regarding dean’ episode fic I posted this weekend. but seeing that y’all liked it, it’s got me thinking… I actually have another episode fic that’s currently a wip. it’s like 15k words already, and would probably be like 30-40k words if I took the time to finish it. so my question is, would y’all want that? would anyone be interested if I write another longer fic that would be broken up into chapters (specifically another episode fic where I fix the episode to make it more destiel)?

That was literally my day. Nobody told me adulting would be like this, can I just cancel my subscription to adult life or..?

if I wrote a dystopian novel where the corrupt evil megacorporation that controls society has a fucking smirk for a logo, my editor would tell me to use a less heavy-handed metaphor

Same buddy, I wish I never knew about daydreaming because it makes wanting that one person I know I can never have so much harder

cas doesn’t know or understand the concept of daydreaming. not for many years. not until jack teaches him one night when they’re up late eating breakfast cereal. “don’t you ever daydream, cas?” jack asks, and when cas says he doesn’t know what that means, jack tells him, “it’s like imagining something you want. like dreaming but you’re awake and controlling the thoughts. you can make anything happen that you desire, pretend everything you’ve ever hoped for is right there just for you,” and cas is completely startled by the concept. but then he starts to let his mind wander. and he starts to imagine what it would be like to tell dean how he feels. he daydreams about kissing dean for the first time. he daydreams about what it would be like to hold dean’s hand or how it would feel to have dean fall asleep in his arms. he spends most nights imagining little scenarios of him and dean in the future; going to diners together and the way he could lean over and kiss dean’s cheek and how dean would smile at him. and he wishes jack had never taught him the concept of daydreams, because it’s the most agonizing thoughts of cas’ existence and yet it’s the only time cas allows himself to feel like his love could blossom into something more

I liked it after reading a couple sentences because - well - it’s perfect. And then I read a couple more sentences and found Dean ONCE AGAIN so damn relatable that I like it again and then this super cute end happened and I liked it again. Why do I keep forgetting I liked something already? But also I love this and I relate so hard it’s not even funny but this melts my heart.

mug in my hands, your lips on my lips

word count: 900

the rest is under the cut with the tag list, or on ao3 :)

Dean has never liked tea.

He can remember being four years old, crawling up next to his mom on the couch where she’s sitting down with a steaming mug cupped in her hands.

“Do you want some?” she offered.

Dean spat it back into the mug while she laughed.

He’s tried it a few times since then. Usually when he misses her the most, but quite frankly, it’s still just as disgusting to him now as it was before his life went up in flames. It’s a constant, though, which he can at least appreciate.

A new constant is catching Cas sipping tea out of one of those novelty mugs he started collecting when he fell for the last time. Dean has no idea what he sees in it, but every day without fail, Cas wanders around the bunker with a mug of tea.

The domesticity of it is jarring at times. It makes Cas seem more human when he’s grimacing at the taste after he’s left it steeping too long, or when he blindly closes a hand around his mug while he pours over something or other in the library. It makes it so much easier to imagine little things he doesn’t get, like dropping a kiss on Cas’ cheek as he gives him a mug, or curling up against him while they watch a movie. Dean doesn’t like tea, but he loves Cas with it.

It’s a beautiful, beautiful torture. He inflicts it on a daily basis.

Today, Cas’ mug says spill the tea. Dean shouldn’t find that as endearing as he does, but when it comes to Cas, he’s a goner. He tamps down the smile that comes with Cas’ beadhead, electric blue eyes blinking back sleep, and fingers curled around a mug.

“‘Morning,” Dean says.

Cas’ eyes flick up to him. “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean takes his usual spot by the counter, futzing with the coffee machine. It takes a minute for it to get going, and then he moves to rummage through a cabinet, pulling out one of the mugs that has made itself at home in the bunker (one of Cas’, this one says don’t be a prick with a picture of a cactus). They sit in comfortable silence backed by the quiet hum of the coffee machine.

Soon enough, there’s a shrill beep, and Dean is pouring himself a mug. He sits down across from Cas.

Cas takes a sip of his tea and Dean watches him swallow. Goddammit. It’s too early in the morning for his feelings and shit.

Halfway through his cup of coffee, Cas speaks.

“That’s disgusting,” he says, squinting at Dean’s mug. “How do you even drink it?”

“This?” Dean raises his coffee and Cas nods. “Buddy, you don’t get to talk, you’re drinking hot leaf juice.”

Cas frowns at him. “You’re drinking hot bean juice,” he argues.

“At least it’s not gross hot leaf juice,” Dean says.

Cas raises his eyebrows over his mug as he takes a drink. “Tea isn’t ‘gross,’” he says, using his free hand to make air quotes.

Dean scoffs. “Hell yeah, it is.”

“Dean,” Cas says.

“I’ve got thirty years of experience that say so,” Dean says, “You’re not changing my mind.”

Cas looks at him. Really looks at him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and, for the love of god, Dean, stop looking at his lips!

Dean jerks his eyes back up to Cas’, but it’s too late.

Cas leans fluidly across the table and then Dean’s brain goes offline.

He tastes like earth and honey, crowding into Dean’s space. Hands come up to cup his face and the back of his neck. It’s a moment before Dean gets with the program and presses back. The flavor intensifies, and he’s suddenly drunk on it. He wants more, and holy fucking shit, Cas is kissing him, and—

Cas pulls back, slightly out of breath, lips pink, pupils blown and looking far more awake than he was a few moments ago. He manages to sound almost unaffected when he asks, “Did that change your mind?”

Dean can’t answer. He can still feel the phantom texture of Cas’ lips against his, and seeing Cas like this is doing things to him. How the fuck is he supposed to talk about tea when he can’t even think coherently?

“You kissed me,” he manages. “Cas, you—“

“Yes,” Cas agrees. “Did it change your mind?”

Dean gapes at him. He’s been wanting to do that for so long, and Cas just kissed him, out of nowhere, over an argument about tea. A lot of strange things have happened to Dean, but the domesticity of this particular moment might make it one of the strangest.

Cas takes pity on him after a minute or so of Dean failing to string together a sentence.

“Do you need to try it again?” There’s something light and hopeful in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dean says, “Uh, yeah. I don’t think I got enough of a taste to decide. Maybe a few more times?” Maybe a lot more times?

Cas smiles. “Of course, Dean,” he says.

Dean’s words may not be working like they should right now, but leaning back in is easy. Right.

Dean doesn’t like tea, but this? His lips against Cas’, he thinks he could get used to this.

tag list: @ccstiel @starrynightdeancas @fellshish @floral-cas @castielsbeeslippers @dune-echo @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @bestiarum @top13zepptraxx @linaraiscorner @theedorksinlove @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Part 2 of the game: Am I sick & about to faint or am I just a little jittery because it’s the afternoon and I haven’t eaten all day?

Guess what time it is!

It’s do-I-have-a-braintumor-or-should-I-just-for-once-get-some-sleep-o-clock!