Showing posts tagged Dean Winchester is a BAMF.
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    Another because I can.

Though this one is ‘because I can-not get this image out of my head blast you Dean why do you have to do the BAMFy thing so well’.

Yes. That is what it was.

Although I do love you.

    Another because I can.

    Though this one is ‘because I can-not get this image out of my head blast you Dean why do you have to do the BAMFy thing so well’.

    Yes. That is what it was.

    Although I do love you.

    — 2 years ago with 5 notes
    #terry draws shit  #dean winchester  #castiel  #dean/castiel  #Dean Winchester is a BAMF 
    Supernatural is kinda like a gateway drug. To awesome.

    I mean, come on. You have demons. Lots and lots of demons. There’s hot demons, conniving demons, ugly demons, ‘friendly’ demons, sexy demons, trixy demon. You have The Plot To Take Over the World, starring one High Demon and His Majesty Lucifer, through infection of babies with demon blood (or fallen angel, if you want to look at it that way).

    You have Daddy issues, through two sets of brothers. Daddy issues that involve delicious things like angst and manpain and more angsting while Putting On a Brave Face which inevitably leads to-

    All the Self Sacrificing, All the Time. Which is seriously almost a cliche with these boys. Honestly, they’re not happy unless somebody is giving their life up for family. (Really, these guys die more than the heroine in a series of Buffy.)

    There’s all the betrayal. Again, a serial occurrence. Like, every single one.

    Then, we add angels to the mix. Angels? Seriously? Like this needs to get any more awesome. But it does and our first interaction with an angel who’s not pretending involves lines like ‘I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition’. If our fannish hearts weren’t satisfied by the liberal application of Rule 34 re: Winchester familial relationships, that line right there would fix it all better.

    Oh, and we must not forget the time travel. Very awesome time travel, by which we get a Meet the Parents. (I’m just saying, it’s too bad that Dean/Sam didn’t drag his angel along asking ‘look what followed me home! Can I keep him?’)

    We get to the end of series 5, where we’re all sure that everything is going to be the shits, and hey- we’re right, they pull a Hamlet and everyone dies. For about five seconds. We get assbutt jokes, and exploding!Cas proves to be a far more fun game than that one with the exploding cards in the universe with the 14 Year Old Girl Evil Overlord set on Avada Kedavraing the guy who broke his heart.

    And then everyone comes back (new and improved, even) and nothing hurts.

    Until they give us a soulless guy wandering around wearing our lovers a familiar face and torturing the shit out of things. But it’s okay, because Dean gets turned into something else ( :D) and the scary-mofo face sets many a loins aflame.

    Mustn’t forget the gratuitous pop/rock culture references and the music that we all headbang (don’t deny it, I see you every Thursday/Friday with your hair going everywhere, right next to me) to like its the end of days.

    Which is is. Again.

    Did we mention the Apocalypse, and ‘last night on Earth’ is a valid means of gaining sex in our fandom? Luckily, we have an expert prepared to help you through the fact that you’re aiming to misbehave in life threatening ways by making sure you Don’t Die a Virgin. Even if he has to make sure himself.

    We have soulmates.

    We have profound-bondmates.

    We have sexy, sexy accents for the other 363 ‘mates’ in the year, and although about half are sarcastic, we get a snarky King of Hell to deliver them, and he’s fucking our resident demonologist awesome, so who gives two shits?

    Trucker caps, leather jackets, jeans, work boots and flannel never go out of style here and fit in very well, in fact, with suits and ties and trenchcoats. Dressing up as a priest is a special event and is by invite only, but don’t worry. We have extra cards.

    We have magic swords, we have dragons, we have vampires, parallel worlds, doppelgangers, locked-room mysteries, tricksters, Japanese references, witches, werewolves, ghosts, local legends, spells, aliens, hot cars, gay references, bondage and much more.

    Sometimes, I think that I might die if I had to watch SPN all day, every day. Those times number three, and coincide with finals weeks. (I think I’m forgiven.)

    WE ARE SUPERNATURAL.
    — 2 years ago
    #supernatural  #Sam Winchester  #sexy bamf  #supernatural wins at everything  #SEE THEY'RE TOTALLY FUCKING  #bromance  #bamf  #bobby singer  #brother's winchester  #balthazar you sexy fuck  #but your sanity's safe  #castiel  #Castiel invented the word BAMF. kittens. and unicorns. in that order  #dean winchester  #dean/castiel  #dear god yes  #Dean Winchester is a BAMF  #dont piss off the nerd angels  #dean and castiel's epic profound gay bond  #fuck yeah  #family business  #gabriel  #Gabriel is epic win  #jfc  #john winchester  #kill me now  #lucifer  #michael  #man pain  #OMG 
    "And that," Dean says smugly, turning back to Cas, "is how you do a perfect banking shot."
Castiel looks up from where he’d been playing with the pool stick and Dean trails off. Because Cas’ fingers are rubbing over and over the tip, smearing chalk over his fingers, the blue bright over his pads.
"….think it’s enough to get the- Dean?"
But Dean doesn’t want to think, definitely doesn’t want to talk and Cas’ mouth is sweet as sin under his own.
"Dean- ah-," Cas cuts himself off with a moan so filthy it has Dean rubbing up against him. Cas chuckles, works a hand between them, "I suppose that means the lesson’s over?"
Dean groans helplessly, thrusting up into Cas’ palm, “Fuck… ah, fuck you.”
Cas tosses his pool stick away and part of Dean is ready to rip into him for that- you don’t just toss fuckin expensive pool sticks- but he’s being turned about, stripped of his shirts and shoved back to the bar stool Cas’d been using for his beer. Fuck, he’s gotten good at this, Cas’ hands wandering and stroking and squeezing in all the right places, undoing his jeans in record time and never losing the speed and control he has over Dean’s mouth. The domineering presence of Cas is everywhere, demanding, taking, never asking, always knowing and Dean gets lost in the sensation.
Dean doesn’t have any clue when he lost his belt, or when his pants came undone. Has no clue when Cas lost his own shirts or when the delicious slacks that never hid anything pooled around his knees, or that those knees had hit the floor. Dean’s got no idea.
But Cas is on his knees one hand braced against Dean’s thigh, the other dipping down between his own legs and- holy fuck- Dean’s head falls back before Cas’ mouth touches his dick because, because-
Because…
Cas hums around him and whatever thought Dean had been trying to hold onto goes right back out the window. He has half a second to cuss at Cas for pulling off, pulling away but then he’s slammed on his back against the pool table with a crazy, blue eyed angel straddling his hips, gripping his dick and sliding down like he was born to do it.
Cas never plays fair.
He’s riding Dean like a pro, fast and then slow, eyes locked on Dean ‘s face whenever he has enough brain cells to open his eyes to notice. He’s clenching and writhing, hands dancing across Dean’s chest and Dean has one of those moments.
Those moments where time seems to freeze around you in a shining drop of perfect clarity. Those moments where it feels like you can see everything, every choice you’ve ever made, every moment that’s yet to come and it all coalesces into a perfect, ordered glimpse of Eternity.
Dean has one of those moments, under an angel.
But, considering said moment is all about said angel, he doesn’t think it’s blasphemous (not that he’d really care, right?). Instead it feels like he was always supposed to be here. Like the whole long fucking ordeal with Azazel and his deal, Sammy’s death, his sacrifice, the Pit, the Cage, Heaven and Hell, all of it was to get him here, right now. 
It doesn’t feel like an end, or even a beginning. It feels… It feels like acceptance. Like his guard loosens and relaxes. He accepts that there will be things he can’t change, things he won’t want to change and things he will desperately need to. The decision is so far into who he is that there’s no fighting because it was already, always, there.
Then the moment is gone, broken, but Dean still remembers, at least a little, and he leans up a hand wrapped around Cas’ wrist, the other clasping over his knee. He rocks up, nuzzles under Cas’ jaw and whispers, “I love you.”
This was the moment he was meant to be in.

    "And that," Dean says smugly, turning back to Cas, "is how you do a perfect banking shot."

    Castiel looks up from where he’d been playing with the pool stick and Dean trails off. Because Cas’ fingers are rubbing over and over the tip, smearing chalk over his fingers, the blue bright over his pads.

    "….think it’s enough to get the- Dean?"

    But Dean doesn’t want to think, definitely doesn’t want to talk and Cas’ mouth is sweet as sin under his own.

    "Dean- ah-," Cas cuts himself off with a moan so filthy it has Dean rubbing up against him. Cas chuckles, works a hand between them, "I suppose that means the lesson’s over?"

    Dean groans helplessly, thrusting up into Cas’ palm, “Fuck… ah, fuck you.”

    Cas tosses his pool stick away and part of Dean is ready to rip into him for that- you don’t just toss fuckin expensive pool sticks- but he’s being turned about, stripped of his shirts and shoved back to the bar stool Cas’d been using for his beer. Fuck, he’s gotten good at this, Cas’ hands wandering and stroking and squeezing in all the right places, undoing his jeans in record time and never losing the speed and control he has over Dean’s mouth. The domineering presence of Cas is everywhere, demanding, taking, never asking, always knowing and Dean gets lost in the sensation.

    Dean doesn’t have any clue when he lost his belt, or when his pants came undone. Has no clue when Cas lost his own shirts or when the delicious slacks that never hid anything pooled around his knees, or that those knees had hit the floor. Dean’s got no idea.

    But Cas is on his knees one hand braced against Dean’s thigh, the other dipping down between his own legs and- holy fuck- Dean’s head falls back before Cas’ mouth touches his dick because, because-

    Because…

    Cas hums around him and whatever thought Dean had been trying to hold onto goes right back out the window. He has half a second to cuss at Cas for pulling off, pulling away but then he’s slammed on his back against the pool table with a crazy, blue eyed angel straddling his hips, gripping his dick and sliding down like he was born to do it.

    Cas never plays fair.

    He’s riding Dean like a pro, fast and then slow, eyes locked on Dean ‘s face whenever he has enough brain cells to open his eyes to notice. He’s clenching and writhing, hands dancing across Dean’s chest and Dean has one of those moments.

    Those moments where time seems to freeze around you in a shining drop of perfect clarity. Those moments where it feels like you can see everything, every choice you’ve ever made, every moment that’s yet to come and it all coalesces into a perfect, ordered glimpse of Eternity.

    Dean has one of those moments, under an angel.

    But, considering said moment is all about said angel, he doesn’t think it’s blasphemous (not that he’d really care, right?). Instead it feels like he was always supposed to be here. Like the whole long fucking ordeal with Azazel and his deal, Sammy’s death, his sacrifice, the Pit, the Cage, Heaven and Hell, all of it was to get him here, right now.

    It doesn’t feel like an end, or even a beginning. It feels… It feels like acceptance. Like his guard loosens and relaxes. He accepts that there will be things he can’t change, things he won’t want to change and things he will desperately need to. The decision is so far into who he is that there’s no fighting because it was already, always, there.

    Then the moment is gone, broken, but Dean still remembers, at least a little, and he leans up a hand wrapped around Cas’ wrist, the other clasping over his knee. He rocks up, nuzzles under Cas’ jaw and whispers, “I love you.”

    This was the moment he was meant to be in.

    — 3 years ago
    #dean/castiel  #dean winchester  #Dean Winchester is a BAMF  #dean and castiel's epic profound gay bond  #castiel  #Castiel invented the word BAMF. kittens. and unicorns. in that order  #supernatural  #sexy bamf  #supernatural wins at everything 
    Fic: Those Lights

    Pre-Dean/Castiel/Balthazar. Ish. Kinda. PG-13. Hot, lazy summers and angels with beer.

    Dean doesn’t even blink at the sound of feathers ripping through the heady afternoon heat. Mostly because blinking would require him to open his eyes, but also because-

    "Dean-. Why are you…"

    Dean grunts and lifts his head from the back of the couch, blinking blearily up at Cas. He shifts, searching out unexploited cool on the worn seats cushions and then shifts again, his jockeys sticking and pulling uncomfortably against his skin. “‘s hot, Cas. Tryin’ta cool down.”

    Cas tilts his head to the side, frowning like the act of staring will make Dean make sense. Closing his eyes, Dean huffs and lets his head fall back to the seat, “If you’re not gonna talk, move outta the way.”

    He can feel Cas blink, hears the confused shuffle, and then the deliberate steps to one side. The pleased sigh is lost to the cool breeze of the oscillating fan and the rustle of a moving trench coat.

    Gotta love summers in South Dakota.

    "I couldn’t find any good brandy, but I did discover a bottle of syrah hiding-," the light taps of bare feet on wood slow and then stop and Dean would sigh, would roll his eyes or make some snark but honestly? He doesn’t have the energy. Being this damn hot always saps his strength and there’s no real need for him to move. Much easier to let the damn angels talk it out above him.

    Only…

    He cracks an eye and then does sigh because they’re both staring at each other.

    "Cas-"

    "I-"

    Dean snorts and opens the other eye. Looks like he’s going to get involved anyway.

    "Alright, you big girls, enough with the longing looks." He lifts a hand towards Balthazar and make a grabby motion for the chilled, condensation-licked bottle and crappy plastic glass he’s got wedged between his fingers. "Gimme the booze and go get the rest. Bobby keeps a pack of PBRs underneath the 18th century reference books." At Balthazar’s questioning look he adds, "In the basement" and ignores the continued confusion by waving until the angel deposits the bottle and glass on the coffee table and pads off to the stairs.

    Dean can feel the stare trying to bore its way into his head.

    "He’s-"

    "Was making me hot looking at him," Dean slides his eyes pointedly to Cas’ multiple layers as he digs out the cork with his pocket knife.

    Cas rolls his eyes- rolls his eyes- at him before stripping out of his coat and jacket, tugging the tie off and over his head. At Dean’s pointed cough, Cas sighs in the most put-upon way anybody’s ever done (must be taking lessons from Sam) and toes off his shoes, rolling up his sleeves before he kicks off his socks.

    Dean nods in acceptance as Balthazar walks back into the study.

    The cork finally comes free with a very satisfying ‘pop!' and Dean fills and drains the glass in a few short seconds, reveling at the cold sliding down his throat.

    Balthazar pops the top off a PBR and takes a drink, forehead crinkling at the taste or the fizz or the bite, Dean doesn’t know, as he sets the rest of the twelve-pack on the coffee table in front of Dean. Cas and Balthazar both sink to the couch at the same time on either side of him, making the cushions shift and dip underneath him and he pitches to the side with a curse, Cas taking his weight easily even as Balthazar huffs a laugh.

    Dean turns around and shoves an elbow in his gut and this time it’s Cas huffing in amusement. Possibly at him. Probably at him, because Balthazar doesn’t move, just looks sideways at him like ‘and what, pray tell, was that supposed to accomplish?’

    Dean has no idea when the angels started living in his head enough that he knows what that look says.

    They sit in relative silence (the fan clicking when it reached the end of a pass as the motor switched directions, the low tap of the wine bottle being set back down on the coffee table in little rings of condensation, the occasional creak and snap of settling and heated wood and steal and stone around them) until dusk starts to fall and Balthazar says calmly, without any inflection, “We should play Candyland.”

    Cas turns to stare at him and Dean feels his gaze follow.

    Balthazar flicks a look at them from the corner of his eye before going back to massacring the label on his PBR. The lean, bare leg perched on the coffee table shifts and resettles, light golden hairs twitching in the artificial wind and Balthazar shifts lower in his seat, dragging half of Dean’s ass down with the cushion.

    "Candyland," Dean finds himself repeating, because really. What do you say to that? Besides, ‘Um, excuse me, but I think you’ve lost your friggin mind.’

    Dean ignores the half-there joke about lost-and-founds and dating and cell phone numbers because Sam isn’t around to bitch face at him, Cas probably won’t get it and if Balthazar gets it at all, it’ll probably be the half that would lead to sexual innuendo and he’s too hot still to worry about blushing.

    Not that he does that. Ever.

    Balthazar shrugs. “More interesting than Scrabble.”

    "I don’t know," Cas pipes up suddenly from his other side and Dean wonders just what’s going on, "Scrabble can at least be marginally educational." He turns a look on Dean, "Like when to use the word ‘capnomancy’ correctly."

    Balthazar chuckles from his other side and Dean opens his mouth, suddenly feeling like the middle kid in a game of keep-away, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault. It was a friggin misspelling! Damn Middle English and their freakin absent grammar.”

    But he joined in the laughs and by the time Bobby pulled up with a second pack of PBRs and enough ice to freeze a rhino, there were Scrabble tiles scattered over the coffee table and two angels good naturedly arguing over whether the correct spelling of ‘theater’ was ‘er’ or ‘re’ and if one was allowed to use alternate spellings in the first place because it was their ‘native language’. Castiel called foul and Balthazar ribbed him about leaving stuff in Dean’s ‘trunk’ and renting out old ‘apartments’ in between asking what it was like to use a ‘flashlight’ when he was human.

    Dean watched on with a smile.

    — 3 years ago
    #dean winchester  #Dean Winchester is a BAMF  #dean and castiel's epic profound gay bond  #dean/castiel  #castiel  #Castiel invented the word BAMF. kittens. and unicorns. in that order  #balthazar you sexy fuck 
    I love you all and grant you previews of my awesomenss. No, really.
    This is a preview for my sequel to Wings Come After a Fall, entitled “We’ll Go Hand in Hand, But Walk Alone in Fear”. I know; Long title is long. But it’s such a good song. And so very fitting a line for the Winchester Bros, especially for season 5.

    It takes them a little over an hour to get everything ready.

    They appropriate a small classroom on the second floor, perfect in that it has one door (and Dean ignores the pointed look Castiel gives him when he starts explaining about the number of coverable entrances, but damnit, when you have John-fucking-Winchester for a father, these things don’t just disappear) and a shit load of windows.

    Dean thinks it’s probably still a stupid idea, even with the precautions in place. Neither Dean nor Cas can use the angel banishing sigil without blasting each other out and about, so their two swords will have to take down all of Zach’s goons. Neither of them wanted to risk capture by splitting up.

    Dean did prep a sigil, at Cas’ insistence, as a backup plan. He wasn’t stupid.

    Dean doesn’t really think Zach would bring fifty angels, but he isn’t going to risk it, either.
    — 4 years ago
    #supernatural  #ficpreview  #dean winchester  #Dean Winchester is a BAMF  #dicks with wings  #Castiel  #Castiel invented the word BAMF. kittens. and unicorns. in that order