Cas said he knew how to fix it, knew what to do. Ice cold and thick as molasses the realization stuck in Dean’s throat and found passage through his veins, right down to his toes, freezing him in place. It wasn’t surprise, though, or shock, just a final decisive crack in a pattern of splinters that wound around his heart, all affixed with the grief of losing him.
four otps [1/4]
I’d rather have you, cursed or not.
I close my eyes
Search for you
Retracing every step
Is driving nails into my soul
Angels from my door
Something else inside
draw ALL the versions of destiel
hopefully it’s obvious which dean this is (hopefully it’s obvious that it’s dean, since his face is giving me problems rn)
“Well, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”