is there anything i that annoys me quite like hs aus

its-the-tenerife-sea  asked:

Hello! I have an idea for the ficlet (feel better btw!). Okay: HS AU with popular!Dean and popular!Cas, they're those two annoying guys who make funny (but also obnoxious) comments in every single class, and make stupid, flirtatious remarks to each other like "Cas looks pretty hot today guys" or "I'm totally dating Dean, everyone" etc. Only thing is, they're secretly in love, but neither will admit it. I've had this idea for a while and I'd LOVE for a talented author to execute it.

Aaaahhh it’s been too long since I’ve done a High School AU and I’ve missed it. Thanks for this one and thanks so much for asking me to fufill the prompt! I hope I do it justice :)


“Please take your seats quickly. I want to discuss your quiz scores so we can go over any questions you may have before the final test.” Ms. Mills said with a stack of papers clutched against her chest.

Dean stretched his arms above his head as he flopped into his usual seat on the third row, next to the wall so he could lean up against it in times of extreme laziness. He sprawled out accordingly, dropping his backpack to the floor and draping his letterman jacket over his seat until the air conditioning kicked in during the middle of class like it usually did.

“Hey, hot stuff.” Dean said with a nod as Castiel sat down in the seat next to him.

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel said, barely looking up as he aligned his binder and world history book neatly on the small desk in front of him.

“How was that student council thingy yesterday?” Dean asked, popping a piece of gum into his mouth.

“Absolutely dreary without your shining personality to brighten all of our days,” Castiel murmured, completely straight-faced.

Dean winked as Ms. Mills began talking again.

“Some of you need to look at your notes from the beginning of the year again,” she said as she began passing back the quizzes. “And some of you need to remember that - if you want full credit on the final test - the answer to ‘What are the seven wonders of the ancient world’ is not ‘Castiel Novak’s Ass’ written seven times.”

She frowned when she got to Dean’s desk, dropping the paper on his desk as the rest of the class laughed.

Dean clicked his tongue and made a finger gun at Castiel with another wink.

“Really, Dean? Don’t be childish.” Castiel said, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “We all know that’s not true. I haven’t done any squats in at least a month.”

Keep reading


have another stupid highschool au: all the ghosts are human teenagers

sorry this stupid shit is stuck in my head now and im imagining clockwork as the school newspaper editor who is eternally pissed off by his whiny and kinda pervy photographers (the observants - maybe a set of twins w/ coke bottle glasses) and ghostwriter, who is always writing like 3 times over the word limit for his pretentious book critique column

White Houses | HS Mini Fic | Chapter 4



Word Count 4.6k

It’s alright
And I put myself in his hands
But I hold onto your secrets in white houses
Love, or something ignites in my veins
And I pray it never fades in white houses
My first time, hard to explain
Rush of blood, oh, and a little bit of pain
On a cloudy day, it’s more common than you think
He’s my first mistake

Keep reading

I Believe This May Call for a Proper Introduction (Part One)

Title: I Believe This May Call for a Proper Introduction

Author: PyromanicSchizophrenic

Summary: You’re working at a record store, when some guy who won’t take off his sunglasses comes in, browses through the entire store, then leaves without buying a single thing. Rinse and repeat.

Warnings: Nah.

You’re going to kill them. That’s it, it’s that simple. You’re going to kill them, and you’re going to go to jail, and you can’t even find it in yourself to be upset.

It’s not that you hate hipsters or anything. That’s not it at all. You’ve never been a music purist, never thought, hey, this album is new, it shouldn’t be on vinyl, because yes it should. Everything should be on vinyl, vinyl sounds really cool.

The problem with the pair of teens in the corner is that they’re not /buying/ anything. And you wouldn’t mind that either, because Lord knows you’ve gone to your fair share of stores to browse and not buy anything. But not only are these two not buying anything, they’re laughing loudly and making noise and you’ve already had three customers walk in, take one look at them, and walk out. But you aren’t allowed to ask that they leave, even if you do it respectfully, even if they’ve been there an hour and are doing nothing more than driving customers away. They’re stuck there, and you’re stuck behind the counter chewing your gum that’s long since lost its flavor and cursing the owner of the tiny record store as loudly as you can in your head.

The bell above the door rings, and you know it’s not because the two teenagers have left, because they’re still being obnoxious in the corner. You wait for the bell to ring, for whoever it is to turn around and walk back out, but they don’t. You look up, interest officially piqued by this newcomer, and almost give up on him being any better.

You try not to judge people without getting to know them. It’s just not the kind of person you are. But this guy is wearing skinny jeans, a shirt for a band that not even you have heard of, and a leather jacket. Plus, he doesn’t bother to take his sunglasses off. He just leaves them on as he flicks through the records.

The problem with vinyls, you think idly, is that the most ample supply is the newest music, because nobody wants to part with the old ones. And someone dressed like the douchiest brand of hipster is not about to want one of the mainstream records that you’ve got plenty of. The apparent boredom on the part of his face you can see confirms this, so if you wrote it down you’d have scientific proof.

You don’t watch him as he moves through the aisles. You don’t. You’re making a point of it. You’ve got your eyes locked on the pages of your comic, and you don’t care if he buys anything. Don’t care if the two in the corner buy anything. You’ve given up caring about anything going on in this store.

“Hey, man, fuck off,” one of the teens in the corner snaps suddenly. Shades has made his way over to them, and is still flipping through records, the same bored expression on his face, but the Tweedles have matching looks of anger on theirs. You silently root for Shades, because if he pisses the Tweedles off enough then they’ll leave and you can maybe salvage your commission for the day.

Shades says something in response, but he’s too soft-spoken for you to catch it. Whatever it is, it makes the Tweedles even angrier, before one of them takes the other’s arm and they stalk out of the shop, bell twinkling merrily after them. The juxtaposition makes you want to laugh.

Shades resumes his slow meandering through the shelves, and you return your attention to your book. You could (should) probably be using your free time to do some of your coursework; you’ve got a midterm in two weeks for a class in which, in spite of your best efforts (really), everything just goes straight over your head. But you kind of, sort of, have an illicit love affair with BPRD Hell on Earth, and that’s much more important than a midterm for a class you’re almost certainly going to fail.

Towards the end of the chapter, Shades comes to stand in front of you on the other side of the counter. He’s empty-handed, but since he got the Tweedles to leave, you’re not going to be upset about it. You do wonder what he’s at the counter for, though.

“Can I help you find anything?” you ask, because that’s what you’ve been told to do when a customer’s standing in front of you.

“How often do you get new shipments in?” he asks, a sort of haughty tone to his voice. Like he thinks this place is beneath him because he didn’t find what he wanted.

“New music comes in with distribution, but most of our out-of-print selections are secondhand.” It’s a rehearsed answer, but the response it gets is always different.

This time, Shades just sighs, as if he had known better than to expect anything else. He turns and leaves without another word. You don’t stare at his ass as he walks out, and you certainly don’t note that it’s quite nice. Far nicer than the guy it belongs to.


It’s a couple weeks before you see Shades again. You failed your midterm, not that you expected any different. You’re talking to a teenaged girl, with a shock of bright green hair, looking through the box of records she brought in with her, when he walks through the door. He starts browsing through the nearest crate, and you ignore him.


“I can give you ten bucks for the whole box,” you tell the girl, waiting for the nearly inevitable backlash. It’s the entire Grateful Dead discography, it’s worth way more than that, what do you mean you can only give me ten?

“Dude, take them,” she says surprisingly. “I don’t want them.”

You blink in shock, but don’t push it any further. Free records are free records, and you’re not going to argue about free records.

She’s gone almost immediately, before you can even say /thanks/. You take hold of the crate so you can move it into the back when Shades is at the counter.

“Anything good?” he asks, peering into the box.

“Come back in a couple days to find out,” you say, pulling the box off the counter. “We’ve got to make sure they’re sellable.”

His mouth pulls into a small frown, and you find yourself wishing that he’d take off those stupid sunglasses so you could see the rest of his face. It probably looks just as annoyed as the lower part of his face.

You go into the back room and set the records down on the table. You then decide that you’ll go ahead and grab a can of (favorite soda) before heading back out into the main part of the store.

Shades is, once again, methodically moving through the crates, flipping through and studying each sleeve carefully before moving on. You don’t think you’ve gotten anything new, at least not enough new that he actually needs to go through everything this carefully this go round.

Maybe he just doesn’t remember everything you had last time he was here?

You actually do ignore him this time, surreptitiously checking your Tumblr on the computer that’s technically only meant to be used for cataloguing. He leaves without another word, clearly deciding that there’s nothing in the store worth spending his money on.


“And play this one for the whole store,” the store owner says, handing you one of the new vinyls. There’s two crates full of it, whatever it is. You look at the front.

“I thought Panic wasn’t a thing anymore,” you say, staring at the top corner, proudly proclaiming Panic! at the Disco.

The owner just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. There’s been a high demand for this one, so play it so people know it’s in.” He walks out, leaving you alone with the records. You shrug, moving over to the player behind the counter and put the new record on.

Sometime around the third track, Shades comes in again. It’s been a few days since the last time; clearly, he took your advice about coming back to see if there was anything good in the girl’s donation.

(The answer was no, not really; whoever owned the records first either loved them or didn’t care about them. Either way, they were in abysmal condition.)

He stops, just inside the door, clearly listening to the music filling the store. He doesn’t hang around much longer, just turns around and walks right back out.


He’s back the next day, and you almost wonder if he’s going to leave again. He doesn’t though, just walks in and goes through the shelves with the same care that he has the past two times. You aren’t behind the counter this time; you’re on the floor, shelving the records you got in yesterday that you hadn’t gotten around to shelving then. You leave him to his own devices, wanting to get as much done as you can. The owner doesn’t like it when it takes more than a couple days to shelf the new stock.

“Does it ever get boring?” Shades asks suddenly, taking you by shock for a moment.

“Care to elaborate?” you ask, trying to figure out what genre you’re supposed to shelf Sia under. She’s pop, right?

“Working in a store by yourself,” Shades explains. You can’t tell if he’s looking at you or not, but he’s still flipping through records, so you’re assuming he’s not.

You shrug, sliding “This is Acting” into the New Releases crate, deciding you’ll find out where it actually belongs later. “Could be worse,” you tell him, going back to the counter to grab a new stack of records. “I get to choose the music that plays, normally.”

“Normally?” he repeats, hands pausing where they are. You think he might be glancing up at you now, but give up on trying to tell for certain.

“Sometimes there’s a record that’s in high demand,” you explain, moving around to Soundtracks and placing the stack of “Hamilton” records in with the Hs. “And the owner wants that one played over the speaker. So that people know we have it.” Which is a totally dumb rule, you think to yourself.

“How many times does that happen?” he questions curiously, resuming his perusal of the records.

“Don’t know,” you say with another shrug. “Once every couple weeks, I guess. Comes with high anticipation. Are you looking for anything specific, or just looking?”

“Trying to rush me?” he retorts.

“No, but this is the third time you’ve come in looking through every single crate we’ve got, and you’ve yet to buy anything,” you point out. “If I knew what you were looking for, I could keep an eye out for it and hold it if we get it.”

The corners of Shades’s mouth turns up in a small smile. “That’s nice of you,” he says, “but I’m just looking for something that I don’t have yet.”

You don’t say anything, but you do raise an eyebrow pointedly. There’s no way that he owns every single record in the store.

“That interests me,” he adds.

“Fair enough,” you grant him. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”


“(Y/n),” the owner calls, the second you walk into the store. “I need you to look through these crates whenever you’ve got the chance.”

You nod, knowing that there’s no real chance of winning an argument with him, and also having no real problem with going through three boxes of secondhand records. It’s not like you get much traffic on a daily basis, and most of the traffic you do get doesn’t really need you to walk them through the store.

The copy of Pink Floyd’s The Wall is in absolutely terrible shape, but it’s Pink Floyd’s The Wall, so you’re going to have to do anything and everything in your power to make it sellable.

Shades might even buy something for once, if you got it working.

“I’m really starting to see the benefit to choosing the music.”

You look up.

“No sunglasses, today?” you ask, as Shades moves further into the store.

“It’s raining,” he points out, shaking water droplets out of his hair. You’re impressed; he’s as far from any of the displays as he can get, being considerate of the records.

“Is that what they call it when water falls from the sky?” You’ve lived in LA for a little over three months now—coincidentally, the last time you’ve seen rain was a little over three months ago too.

“It’s what I’ve heard the Elders say,” Shades (who has really pretty eyes, now that you can see them) replies with a huff of laughter.

You snort. “The Elders are wise,” you agree sagely. “And all-knowing.”

“Indeed they are.”

You both stare at each other before giving up and breaking into a fit of giggles.

“Anyway, I almost didn’t recognize you without them,” you explain, going back to your careful cleaning of the Pink Floyd vinyl. You really, really want to salvage this.

“Excellent,” he says. You wonder if he ever gets bored, going through more-or-less the same records every single day. “My master plan is working.” He glances up, seeing the crates still on the counter. “Do those still need to be gone through?”

“This one’s in abysmal condition,” you say, holding up the copy of The Wall.

“They’re all probably in similar states. What’s salvageable will be shelved within the week.”

Shades hums in thought. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll have to come back then, won’t I?”

“Guess you will.”

As he walks out, you wonder when your relationship got to the point where you’re flirting with each other, because you’re pretty sure that’s what just happened.


By some miracle, you were able to get the Pink Floyd album into a decent condition. It was, unarguably, the worst of the set, so you’re going through the store and shelving the contents of all three of the crates when Shades comes in again (once again wearing his sunglasses).

“They’re decent, but not shelved yet,” you tell him, not looking up at him. “You’re just a tiny bit early.” You’re extremely proud of the restoration work you did on The Wall; maybe you’ll be able to get a raise out of it.

“Damn,” he mutters, coming over and peeking over your shoulder at the record on top of the stack in your arms. “Oh, that’s a good one.”

“Want it?” you ask, holding it out to him.

He shakes his head. “Already got it.”

“Of course you do,” you mumble, moving away to shelf it. You can’t figure out why he keeps coming in; clearly, he’s not finding anything here worth his time or efforts, and you would have given up by now. Seriously, this guy’s got to be coming in solely on faith at this point.

“I don’t have that one,” he adds, pointing at The Wall and looking (possibly) absolutely elated.

“My pride and joy, right here,” you say, handing it to him. “Not in the best condition, but passable.”

He takes it, actually taking his sunglasses off for a better look. You are, once again, finding yourself struck by how pretty his eyes are. (And the rest of his face; he is startlingly pretty.) You had been right, his entire face is lit up, looking awestruck and honored to be holding the record.

You feel a stab of pride; you’re about to sell an album that you had thought was going to have to be trashed, and you’re about to sell it to Shades of all people. This is the absolute peak of your career (even though being one of the only clerks of an under-the-radar record shop isn’t going to end up your career), and you’re definitely going to get a raise out of this one.

You move around him, shelving the rest of the records. He starts following you again, clearly looking to see if there’s anything else that he doesn’t have yet.

You aren’t sure if he will or not, but you let him follow you anyway.

Which is strange, because you’ve usually got a pretty serious thing about personal space. He’s not incredibly close—you can’t feel his breath on your neck or anything—but you have a hyper-awareness of people less than two feet away from you. But for some reason, you don’t mind it when it’s him.

(You decide to ignore the implications of that because you are not getting a crush on another guy whose name you do not know.)

In the end, Shades actually ends up with a small stack of records himself—there are four, including the Pink Floyd, and you’re ridiculously proud of yourself for finally selling something to him. 

As he leaves, you realize that he may or may not come back—depending on his logic, the store is either actually worth his time, or has expended its usefulness to him. You try to convince yourself that you won’t be disappointed if he doesn’t come back in.

It doesn’t really work.

To Be Continued (in like two weeks)

You Belong With Me (AO3)

Summary: Castiel has always known he was in love with his neighbour, Dean Winchester. So much so, that he has it written in big letters at the front of his notepad that he communicates to Dean with. But no one was supposed to see that.

Castiel can’t help but notice the movement out of the corner of his eye, pushing up his glasses from where they had fallen down to. He puts down his book and leans back to see Dean through his window across the divide of their houses, sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands.

Castiel quickly turns back to his desk grabbing his notepad and pen and begins to write. When he turns back to get Dean’s attention he’s surprised to see Dean already looking at him, a soft look on his face that visibly brightens when he sees Castiel with his notepad.

Rough day?

Dean’s laugh is small but it still makes Castiel feel butterflies in his stomach. He knows it’s pathetic, his crush on Dean, but if this is all he’s going to get then why not make the most of it. 

Something like that.

Castiel frowns at the tired look on Dean’s face, flipping to a new page. He doesn’t like seeing Dean upset. It’s always made him want to just up and run all the way over to Dean and wrap him up in a big, warm hug. 

Are you okay?

Dean grins.

Better now that I’m talking to you.

Keep reading

Blind Eyes (destiel au)

Dean didn’t really notice the small, nerdy, quiet guy in half of his classes until he accidently ran into him on the way out of class. Opening his mouth to yell at him for not looking where he was going, he focussed on the other boys eyes, they weren’t focussing on him. He squinted at the boy who had begun to splutter apologies, “S-sorry, I couldn’t see you,” even still the boy wouldn’t look directly at him, only in his general direction.

Just as he was about to demand the boy look at him he noticed the white cane in his hand, it took a moment but it finally clicked- the boy was blind. “No, no, it’s my fault,” Dean reassured, subconciously looking the other up and down in a quick check for any injury he may have caused.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” he introduced himself after a brief moment of awkard silence. The other boy smiled slightly, “Castiel,” the other offered his name in return. Dean ran a hand through his hair and looked at Castiel who was standing rigidly and he suppossed that was so he didn’t bang into anything.

“I could walk you home,” Dean spoke, he already felt bad for running into a blind kid and it wouldn’t be any trouble. “That is, if you want to,” he added, stuttering, “If you don’t already have a lift.”

Castiel smiled, “Thank you, Dean, I would much appreciate it,” he accepted gratefully. Balthazar, his friend who he usually walked with, was not in today. Reaching out awkwardly and fumbling he managed to grab hold of Dean’s forearm and brought his hand to his elbow.

To say Dean was startled was an understatement but he quickly understood that his hand on Cas’ elbow was for guiding. Thankfully, they were on the ground floor so there weren’t any problems with stairs. “So where do you live, Cas?”

“Garrison street,” came the reply, Cas had a deep voice for someone his age and it sent shivers up Dean’s spine. Of course Dean had to admit that Cas was quite attractive and he found his gaze drifting to Cas much more than he should considering Cas couldn’t even see his lingering looks.

“Wait, Garrison street?” Dean asked suddenly, “I only live a few streets away, how come I’ve never seen you around?” He was out most of the time and knew loads of people in the area due to his job at Bobby’s garage, he was surprised he had never even seen Cas if he lived so near.

Cas shrugged, “I don’t really go out all that much. It’s pretty pointless if I can’t see it,” there was a lack of the sadness in his voice that Dean would’ve have expected. Dean had always assumed that if you were blind you would give anything to see again.

“How long have you been blind?” Dean asked before he could stop himself. God, how rude can I get, he thought and screwed his eyes up in annoyance at himself. “You know you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

Once again, Cas shrugged, “It’s fine. Most of my life, I lost my sight in a car crash when I was three years old, I dont remember anything from before then so I just live with it. I dont know what I’m missing out on, therefore I cannot find room to care.”

Dean was stunned for a moment before chuckling, “Guess that’s a pretty good view to have about it,” this caused an upturn of Cas’ lips.

Cas was glad that Dean understood him, most of his family were annoyed that he didn’t mind. As if it personally offended them. Although he knew it was probably because they didn’t want him to have to accept a more difficult life.

“Which number?” Dean asked when they reached Cas’ street, hiding the disappointment in his voice that he would have to leave. Cas’ street was long, wide and had trees lining the path, overall it looked much more welcoming and homey than his own road only a few streets away.

“4.” Dean walked Cas down to his house, then up to his front door. Just in case anything happened. “Thank you, Dean,” Castiel thanked him sincerely and knocked three times on the door, “I appreciate you walking me.”

Dean shrugged then remembered Cas could not see him, “No problem, anytime.” It was true, he would walk Cas home anytime he asked, he’d had a surprising amount of fun.

The door was opened by a short guy with blond hair, “Who’s this?” the man asked obnoxiously. Cas rolled his eyes at his presummed brother, “Hello, Gabe,” he turned to look in the direction of Gabe, then back to Dean. “Good bye, Dean,” he smiled at Dean (well, his direction) then stepped into his house.


It became a regular occurance for Dean to walk Cas home, the only days he couldn’t were when he had football practice or when he had to drive Sam. They talked about anything and everything and over the next few months became quite inseperable.

Dean and Balthazar often clashed with each other, both mildly possessive and wanting to be the one to help Cas with things. Though he felt like their respective relationships with Cas were fairly different, but he didn’t know in which way.

Dean and Cas were sitting cross-legged across from one another on Cas’ bed. “Remember when we first talked? Well, Ive been thinking, I wish I could see what you look like,” he sighed.

“I know what you sound like, how tall you are, but not anything else,” Cas elaborated sadly. Dean felt his heart rate raise, why would Cas wanna see him of all things?

Dean swallowed, “I could describe myself,” Cas eagerly nodded. It took a moment for him to think, where do you even begin when decribing yourself to somebody who couldn’t see and didn’t remember colour?

“Well, I have kinda short blond hair. Sand coloured,” Dean hoped Cas could understand colours by associating feelings and experiences and went on to describe himself. “And green eyes, my mom says they’re candy apple coloured, with some honey tone flecks in them.”

When he looked up Cas was staring intently as if soaking everything it. That was when Dean realised that even blind eyes could blaze like meteors. “Do you know what you look like?” Dean whispered to which Cas shook his head no.

“You have really dark hair, like dak chocolate. And the brightest blue eyes that look like a raging sea. And really…pink…lips,” Dean trailed of in whisper.

He was only an inch or so away from Cas’ face and their breaths mingled in the space between them. His hand came up and tenderly cupped Cas’ cheek, testingy he brushed their lips together and when Cas didn’t pull away he pressed their lips firmly together.

There were no fireworks, or grand explosions, but it felt right. Complete. Cas kissed back and their lips moved together in a soft harmony with everything else fading away. Cas’ senses were alight and every touch was amplified, the gentle brush of Dean’s tongue along his lip sent shivers through his body. The first brush of their tongues together had them both whimpering and Cas clawing at Dean’s shoulders bringing him ever closer.

They only pulled away when they had to, for air, and rested their foreheads together. “Wow,” Cas whispered, he had never been kissed before but he was sure that it was the best way it could have gone. Dean chuckled and agreement and interlocked their fingers, “We should do this more often.”

Thanks to those who have followed me already :) I am open to requests so just send me what you want and I’ll write it for you XD

Horror AU

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before but I’m a huge fan of horror movies, so I thought I should put together a list of my all time favorite Destiel horror fics! I swear I watch every single horror film that comes out, no matter if it’s an amateur movie done with a shaky camera or a foreign movie with no subs! I’m kind of sad that there aren’t that many great Destiel horror fics compared to other fandoms, but I take whatever I can get! I used to be a pretty popular ff writer on another fandom, so I’m seriously thinking about writing a Destiel horror fic because I’d fucking ACE it! Lol the only problem I have is that whenever I write fanfiction, all my chapters tend to be over 10k so the overall story will always end up being 200-400k total. Admin J is the same with me on this issue! That’s why I always have to complete the fic before posting it so that I won’t leave it unfinished! Anyway… Here’s all my fav horror fics in no particular order! – Admin A

Title: Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart

Author: beenghosting

Rating: Explicit

Words: 44,935 – Finished

Admin’s assessment:  ★ ★ ★ ★  

Admin A’s notes: I love House of Leaves so this fic was perfect! I was so captivated by the eerie feeling and how the story started as AU but towards the end the plot became infused with canon verse!

Summary: There’s something alive in Dean’s cabin. He can feel it. Under the floorboards, beneath the stairs that shouldn’t be there, where it’s dark. It beats like a heart. It changes its face in the middle of the night. It feels like it’s reaching out to him, and he has no idea why.

( Read here )

Title: Th1rteen R3asons Why

Author: confessyourlove

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 39,013 – Finished

Admin’s assessment:  ★ ★ ★  

Admin A’s notes: This was okay for me, nothing too special or surprising about it. I was so happy that there’s a sequel for this but it’s totally been abandoned… So now my heart is bleeding and I’m annoyed :’D I hate unfinished stories!

Summary: You can’t stop the future.

You can’t rewind the past.

The only way to learn the secret is… to press play.

Dean Winchester doesn’t want anything to do with the tapes Castiel Novak made. Castiel is dead, he reasons. His secrets should be buried with him. Then Castiel’s voice tells Dean that his name is on the tapes—and that he is, in some way, responsible for his death. All through the night, Dean keeps listening. He follows’ Castiel’s recorded words through the streets of their small town… and what he discovers changes his life forever.

( Read here )

Title: Spiraling

Author: YamiAki96

Rating: Explicit

Words: 15,023 – Finished

Admin’s assessment:  ★ ★ ★  

Admin A’s notes: I’m a sucker for ghost stories and horror is my all time favorite genre of books and movies, so naturally, I had to read all the Destiel horror fics I could find. This one is more of a traditional ghost story so I was very pleased with it because it was more AU than most horror Destiel fics!

Summary: Strange occurrences start after Dean and Castiel move into their dream house, leading Castiel to believe that they may not be alone there.

( Read here )

Title: The Shadows We Draw

Author: viviansface

Rating: Explicit

Words: 75,659 – Finished

Admin’s assessment:  ★ ★ 

Admin A’s notes: I’m being biased again but HS fics, no matter how good they are, just aren’t my thing. But I decided to add this on the list anyway because I’m sure most of you will enjoy it a lot more than me!

Summary: Senior year of high school is generally considered to be a struggle; with a new boyfriend and a group of jocks who won’t stop straight-out harassing him, it’s nearly impossible. Despite being in love and enjoying its perks, Dean grows desperate enough to seek aid from a practiser of one of the oldest arts – witchcraft – to hopefully make their lives (especially Cas’) easier. Spells are a dangerous business, though, and oftentimes, not even the best intentions can make a difference.

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Title: Whispering Roots

Author: stardustpaths

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 22,922 – Finished

Admin’s assessment:  ★ ★ ★

Admin A’s notes: This wasn’t really horror for me, but since it sort of had that mysterious air around it, I decided to add it here. Honestly I’ve watched way too many horror films in my life because nothing ever surprises me :’D

Summary: Dean can’t say he’s thrilled when a hunt takes him back to his childhood town. It feels like Oak Mill and the nearby woods are haunted by more than just the mysterious monster that’s been snatching people away. But after a forest spirit saves his life, it seems that maybe he’ll find something good there after all, not just a bunch of unwanted memories and lost friendships.

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Title: The Ghosts of Blackthorn Hall

Author: linoresearch

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 94,657 – Finished

Admin’s assessment:  ★ ★ ★ ★

Admin A’s notes: Jane Eyre SPN fusion fic… Awesome! I mean Charlotte Brontë is like one of my all time fav authors along with Jane Austen (yes I’m that kind of a reader!) So when I found a SPN fusion with Jane Eyre, I knew I’d love it and I was right!

Summary: In 1843 Castiel Milton leaves his life of quiet faith and duty to take up employment as tutor to the young ward of one Mr Dean Winchester, at Blackthorn Hall. Set deep among the Yorkshire moors, Blackthorn is a place of mysteries – a wild place, where pale faces appear at the windows, and mad women laugh in the night. Castiel is drawn to the enigmatic Master of Blackthorn and they form an attachment neither of them expected. But there are secrets hidden behind Blackthorn’s stone walls, truths that threaten to destroy their fragile happiness, as they are forced to confront the ghosts of their past.

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Title: the inexhaustible silence of houses

Author: Askance

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 31,820 – Finished

Admin’s assessment:  ★ ★ ★ ★

Admin A’s notes: I loved this! I seriously wish I could go back in time and not watch as many horror films as I have, so I could really get more intuned with these fics and not be able to predict how everything will end :’D

Summary: Almost two years after the world doesn’t end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh.

But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

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Title: Autumn Hollow

Author: shotgunsinlace

Rating: Explicit

Words: 98,374 – Finished

Admin’s assessment:  ★ ★ ★ ★

Admin A’s notes: This fic is incredible!I think this might be my favorite horror fic in this fandom!

Summary: When tragedy strikes late one Californian night, author C.J. Novak searches for a place to start his life anew. The long road filled with shadows and doubts take him to Nires Island, a small fishing town off the coast of Maine where the food is good and the neighbors are polite. But when nightmares of drowning threaten the fragile threads of Castiel’s sanity, the picturesque shores of Autumn Hollow don’t look quite so pretty any more. The dead walk, the vengeful haunt, the darkness stalks, and Dean Winchester may be more than just the shady mechanic who somehow manages to destroy Castiel’s defenses.

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Bonus Day 1- Shine

I don’t know why but the first thing I thought of when I saw “Shine” was a High School Drama Club AU. As I’m typing this I just realized something else I could’ve written that also would’ve been cool but you know what that’s okay! But anyway, I have three or four more stories I plan to post, maybe more depending on if I have a sudden idea. As always, please inform me if you see any mistakes!

Natsu Dragneel was considered many things in his high school, he was a jokester, an athlete, and the (self proclaimed) hottest male at school, but he was definitely not the kind of guy to fall for a theater loving princess like Lucy Heartfelia.

He didn’t know how it happened, they’d only spoken twice, both of which he barely spoke and she did nothing but yell. They never spoke in passing, rarely smiled at eachother when they made eye contact, and hell, she probably didn’t even know his name!

But somehow, he was still crushing on her.

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