#destiel+ficlet

[casdeans-pie]

Dean asks Cas to teach him Enochian.

So Cas teaches him Enochian.

They sit together in the bunker - chairs next to each other, elbow to elbow, books spread out around them, and Dean learns the language of the Angels from his own.

Dean makes quips about Cas being his teacher, and offhandedly asks what he can possibly do to get extra credit.... Cas looks at him with complete and utter incomprehension while Dean has an internal meltdown at how that came out without meaning it to.

Dean's actually very focused when he has a goal - so he studies and he reads and he's genuinely a good student. He practices his pronunciation (which Cas has said 'is fine' but said it with the expression of someone in pain, so he knows it sucks) while he's cooking or in the shower, and Sam remarks more than once how Dean could have gone to college.

Dean still gets frustrated when he can't remember a certain word too many times, or can't wrap his head around a specific turn of phrase, but he also kind of loves it when he says something and Cas smiles with amusement at what he's said. It dawns on him that he's the one speaking strangely in Cas's language now, instead of the other way around.

The first time Dean speaks in almost fluent conversational Enochian he is so proud and pleased but Cas looks like hes going to throw up, and Dean thinks he must have got something wrong again. He doesn't know that Cas is having to physically hold himself back from immediately exiting his vessel and shattering every window in Lebanon with the force of his joy.

#Im so sad I want to read this as a fic does it already exist?? link meeee #destiel #destiel ficlet #deancas #flustered!cas my beloved #pie's projects #spn ficlet #destiel headcanon #destiel fanfiction

[lizleeships]

C a s u a l  I n t i m a c y  is my jam, I have no excuse

(Don’t repost)

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Teeny contextual ficlet below the cut: 

“Cas, lay off already,” Dean huffs from the motel bed. 

He crosses his bruised arms behind his head and tries to force back a wince of pain as he slings a casual grin. 

“We’re in one piece, aren’t we?” 

The angel seems dangerously ruffled, and Dean really wants to focus on that like the awesome boyfriend he’s learned to be. The thing is though, Cas is stripped down to his boxers and an old black undershirt in preparation for his shower and it’s more distracting than a train crash. A sexy, sexy train crash. 

Okay yeah, he’s probably a bit concussed; maybe Cas is right for chewing him out. 

“You have to be more careful,” Cas insists, his voice doing that deliciously growly thing it does (which, again: not the time, Winchester), “I’m not what I used to be, and neither are you.”

“Wow, okay-”

“Whether you like it or not, you’re not getting any younger, and I’m not getting any more useful. On most days I barely have enough Grace to heal your razor nicks.”

A pang of irritation surges at that - because Dean is excellent at grooming, thank you- but instead of clapping back, Dean opts for a far more entertaining option. He reels the angel in by the towel ends draped around his shoulders, and plants a kiss right between his severely pinched eyebrows. 

“I’ll be more careful, okay?” is his murmured promise, “I swear on my Old Guy honour.”

“That’s not fair,” Cas complains, though he doesn’t move an inch. 

“What?” 

“You can’t just distract me when I’m trying to make a point. It’s extremely patronizing.” 

Dean chuckles and kisses the wrinkles which pleasantly frame Cas’ eyes, then the speckles of grey at his temples. 

“Yeah? Does that mean it’s working?” 

“Dean, this is serious.” 

The consternation on Cas’ face has only mildly ebbed through the affection, so Dean frames his features with his hands, bumps their foreheads together. 

“I know, sweetheart. I hear you.” 

Cas nods against him as he stands down, shoulders sinking on a deep exhalation. 

“Really. I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“Alright.” 

“But next time, maybe try making your point when you’re not half-naked, speaking of distractions. That’s playing dirty and you know it.”

Finally, Cas’ grave  expression breaks into a grin while Dean pulls him all the way down onto the bed.

“You’re ridiculous; I’m wearing clothes,” Cas objects. 

He makes himself at home in Dean’s lap, his fingers trailing absently over warm freckled skin. Dean looks up at him with a smirk.

“Yeah well, we’ll see about that.”

#destiel #destiel fanart #destiel fluff #so cheesy I might choke #hunter husbands #destiel ficlet #forehead kisses #domestiel

[queerstudiesnatural]

i think it would be so funny if sam and cas started saying i love you before dean and cas did.

sam is on the phone with cas in the bunker and they're on speakerphone because dean is also there and they are talking about a case. when they hang up sam says alright thanks cas, love you. and cas says i love you too, sam, and they hang up and sam goes to get up and go do something else, but he catches dean staring at him and is like what. dean is like "so um." clears his throat. "so that's a thing you guys say now?" and sam is like "what thing." because he's been saying i love you to cas for months or years so he barely registers it anymore. and dean is looking at him like he just announced he was retiring to become a stand up comedian and says, "you just said i love you. to cas. you guys. you guys said. do you-- i mean. you said i love you to cas. i didn't imagine that, did i?" and sam is like "oh yeah well. i love him. he's my friend. i love you is a thing friends say to each other." and dean stares harder and says, "i've never heard you say i love you to anyone. you've barely said it to me." and sam is like "yeah well we're not exactly like that, are we. you've never said it to me, either. but cas-- well, cas is my best friend, you know? and i do love him. so why shouldn't i say it?" when dean still looks unconvinced, he adds, "hey, you said i love you to charlie, right? well, cas is my charlie". that seems to get dean's brain working. "okay. okay, so, you guys are like. best friends. but i thought i was his best friend." "well dean, i don't know what to tell you. if you wanna tell cas you lo-" but dean cuts him off to ask, suddenly, "wait, is cas gay?" and sam is like what. and dean is like "you said he was like charlie." and sam says, exasperated, "dean, that's not what i meant. charlie was more than that, and so is cas. i just meant that i love him like you loved charlie." dean doesn't seem to be listening though, and he deadpans again, "so, is cas gay?" sam is so confused by the direction the conversation has taken and he's like "i don't know, dean, maybe. i-- i don't know, it's none of my business." that seems to set something off in dean though, and he gets up abruptly with a see ya sam and strides off to his room.

once there he sits on his bed, closes his eyes and says, cas, get in here. i need to talk to you, it's urgent. he's not surprised when cas appears out of thin air to his left. he doesn't even flinch. instead he stands up to face cas.

"you said i love you to sam," dean says. no hello, no thanks for dropping by. "earlier, on the phone. you guys said i love you."

"i... yes? i do love your brother." cas seems appropriately confused, but dean doesn't care.

"ok. ok. is sam your best friend?"

"dean, you said this was urgent."

"it is urgent. is sam your best friend?"

"i-- i don't know. he is a good friend."

"because i thought i was your best friend."

"i don't know, dean," cas says, exasperated. "i like you both. you are both my best friends."

"but you love sam. you just said. oh and by the way, i just had a talk with sam, and he loves you as a friend."

"i know that, dean."

"so if we're both your best friends--which is bullshit by the way. sam isn't the one who watches movies with you and stays up talking with you and has that... bond, or whatever, with you. but, if we're both your best friends. then do you love me?"

cas opens and closes his mouth, furrows his eyes, then finally says, "yes, dean."

"okay, well that didn't sound very convincing. do you love me? cause i love you."

cas' eyes widen a bit at that, then he smiles a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth and says, "i love you too, dean."

"okay. good. glad we cleared that up."

there's a pause in which dean keeps picking at his fingernails and worrying at his lip, cas awkwardly waiting for a sign that the conversation is over. dean decides that it's not over.

"i love you more than sam does," he blurts out, searching cas' eyes for... something. "he said he loves you like i loved charlie. i don't love you like charlie."

"oh," is all cas says.

"i love you like. like. like ren and stimpy. like mulder and scully. like butter and bread.

"oh," is all cas says again.

they stare at each other for about half a minute, then dean says, "ok. good talk."

and cas says, "i have to go. i was doing research in a private library in marrakesh."

"right. you should get back to that."

there's a flutter of wings and cas is gone.

they haven't cleared anything up, not really, but when they hang up the phone now, dean says i love you, and cas says, like butter and bread.

#rain posts #ficlet #rain.writing #destiel #supernatural #spn

[doctorprofessorsong]

Thine Eyes I Love

After Cas returns from the Empty, he realizes that Dean can't seem to look at him. He assumes the worst. Turns out Dean is doing the same.

He is a vestige of a broken God - a discarded toy cast aside by a petulant child who is himself now only a memory.  Nearly the last of his kind. Obsolete. Yet it's neither the loss of his purpose nor his siblings that leaves him feeling adrift in this tiny hotel room outside of Omaha. It all comes down to Dean. Maybe it always has. Perhaps the first domino Chuck knocked over was always leading to Dean, and to the emerald light that shines with love for everyone and everything around him. Except for Cas. Not anymore. 

Made a destiel fic based on this post. Making an independent post for reblogging to the side blog.

Source

#destiel #deancas #destiel ficlet #destiel fic rec #deancas fic rec

[cascigarette]

and cas has never felt more alive

#destiel #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #destiel edit #destiel ficlet #my edit #my fic #my writing #mine

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

#destiel #ficlet #spn #dean winchester #deancas #supernatural #castiel #cas #drabble #long post #destiel drabbles #fic #guess who's back #getting together #my supernatural hyperfixation has returned with a vengeance #extended metaphors aplenty #this was vaguely based on me rewatching #episode 4x16 On the Head of a Pin #and thinking if later season Dean cried in front of Cas #like early season Dean did it would both break and fix them #in my head I'd put it sometime post season 12 #but I'm not picky

[universalcas]

The worst part of it all, if you don't take into account the hollowing feeling that threatens to eat you alive from the insides, the fear, paralyzing as anything, of not being able to function properly ever again, the idea of you doing the basics every day, powered by muscle memory alone because you have to eat and you have to breathe in a world that doesn't give a shit about anything and keeps going, it's when you don't even have a body to bury. And how can anyone mourn an angel, anyway?

When Cas died, he took everything that was beautiful and worth living for with him leaving behind only memories of touches, and comfort an protection and the painful realization that sometimes home can, also, be a person. All the things that Dean, damn coward he is, always took for granted.

He finds the house by the lake he (still) dreams of sometimes, one day he's aimlessly driving, alone, always alone those days, when Sam is far away living the life he always wanted for both of them. The construction is sturdy and well-kept despite the obvious state of abandonment. It looks like a nice place to start over again, whatever that means now.

Next to a big tree that still smells of rain Dean buries his jacket, the one with Cas's handprint on it, because he doesn't have anything else and thinks Cas might have liked it. Dean doesn't know how it feelt to be in The Garden of Eden before everything happened, but he wants to thinks it looked a lot like this, to be able to rest under a sky full of stars.

He doesn't notice the tiny flower that appears over Cas's grave at first, because after only a month there there's still a lot to do but once he does he can't simply stop staring at it. It's small and blue and a species he doesn't recognize. Not that he knows a lot about flowers but he's learning. Maybe it doesn't means anything, probably it doesn't means anything, but he prefers to think that Cas's memory, the physical imprint of an angel existence on Earth, has helped to grow a new life. So he starts taking a bit of his time to talk to the tiny flower everyday. Most of the time is nothing of importance, short trips to the nearest town to buy supplies he needs, a new idea he want to implements in the upper floor of the cabin, but some things are small and life-changing on their own, because in the folks in the town have started calling him by his first name, and he has an 'usual' when he appears at the local coffee shop and the old woman that owns the bakery uses him as her guinea pig when she bakes a new pie.

Time goes and the flower grows and the pressure around his chest is less constricting even if it doesn't disappear completely and probably never will but Dean's fine with it. It's a proof that he's still alive and kicking and that Cas, in his own way, changed him too.

One day the flower is gone and there's a familiar silhouette standing in front of the lake. Fifty-years old-knees from a life hunting can hurt like hell when Dean sprints toward a man that can be real or can be just his imagination playing tricks on him but the blue in his eyes when he turns over and call Dean's name in that soft voice of his, looks like the blue of the flower that Dean nurtured with patience and love for months. It looks a lot like happiness. It looks a lot like hope. 🌿

#destiel #destiel ficlet #i write sometimes #destiel fic #deancas

[hornystiel]

what if. cas' wings need grooming but he and dean are MAD at each other for some reason or another but he won't turn to sam to do it either and can't do it himself properly so they do it but ANGRILY and despite that dean's touch is still soft (mostly. he tugs at some places making cas leak) and since they've been mad at each other for a while they haven't fucked lately really so this turns out to be a breaking point and dean blows cas on his bed while grabbing his wings and pinning him to the bed and dean's sheets are soaked in cas' oil and they still won't talk after <3

#blame ida for this btw #destiel ficlet #destiel hc #or whatever #destiel #spn #wing kink

[castieldelamancha]

"Dean?" 

And Dean doesn't know what to make of the tone in the voice calling out for him. 

"In the kitchen, Cas." He calls back, keeping an eye on the tomato sauce he was in the middle of making. 

He hears Castiel entering the room, "you okay?" He asks, without turning around.

"I turned on my phone." And that something is still there, in his tone, something quiet and fragile, he sounds a bit choked up.

"Okay." Dean replies, slowly, wondering where this is going. "Something happened to it? We can get you a new one." 

"You texted me." 

Dean decides the tomato sauce can burn for all he cares, his grip on the wooden spoon he was using to stir it tightens. 

"He doesn't quite know what he is feeling, it's not shame, he thinks, he just had forgotten about those texts. It feels a bit silly now. 

He clears his throat, still not turning around, "I guess I did, yeah."

is this you?

The text says.

Then a picture of a small bird, a colorful starling, staring right at the camera. Head slightly tilted to the left.

"That guy over there landed on my hood, and it was staring at me, in that unnerving way," like it was trying to tell him something, Dean was desperate, like it knew him, Dean felt so lost," it wouldn't leave, guess it was tired or something." He shrugs. "It's pretty fucking stupid, I know." The bird ended up leaving, joining the flock waiting for him up in the sky, leaving Dean behind, staring at him until his eyes couldn't find him anymore among the other birds heading south.

There is another text, from that very same day, sent just a couple hours later.

i miss you.

He never texted Cas again, after that, didn't make any sense, it took him a bit longer to stop praying to him. Even if he knew his prayers could never reach him where he was, that darkness would have never allowed the tiniest spark of light to reach its twisted insides.

Strong arms wrap themselves around his waist, and he can feel Castiel's forehead pressed against his shoulderblade. It's tentative, the way he moves, like he thinks Dean will tell him to step back, he is testing the unknown waters they are navigating together now. 

"Dean."

"It's fine Cas, really." 

He gets some sauce in the spoon, lifting it over his shoulder, "here, try this." And Castiel does, humming thoughtfully, allowing Dean to distract him from the matter in hands.

"It's really good." He says, resuming his previous position, leaving Dean to quietly turn off the stove and put a lid over the sauce.

Dean turns around, putting his own arms around Cas, who rests his head on his shoulder.

"I would have found a way to see you once again if I had been able, I hope you know that."

Dean nods before realizing Castiel can't actually see them, he has to talk, through this heavy lump in his throat, "I know." He hushes.

Dean decides then that, as impractical as it might could be, he would very much like to stay right here, holding Cas close. He rests his cheek on the top of his head and he has never been hugged like this, for so long, so tenderly. Cas hasn't either, Dean doesn't need to ask to know, and that makes him hold on even more tightly. 

Dean can't help but smile dopily at the way Cas sways them side to side, from time to time, as they stand there, intertwined, in the middle of the kitchen.

"Dean?" His tone is lighter now, like he can breathe again.

"Yeah?"

"Did it really remind you of me because of its unnerving staring?" There is no heat or offense behind his words so Dean laughs lightly.

"No, of course not, maybe just a little bit." 

It was the color of its feathers, actually, because he pictured Castiel's wings when he saw them.

He doesn't say it out loud.

He can't, there are many things he can't say yet, he isn't ready yet. But Castiel understands, Castiel would wait a thousand years for him if it was necessary.

Not only in that bird did he see Cas. He saw him in the most beautiful sunsets, in the brightest stars.

He doesn't say it out loud.

He moves back a little instead, making Castiel move with him, but now allowing him to move back any further, keeping them tangles in this neverending embrace, he leans in, questioningly, Castiel crosses the distance that is left between them, kissing him.

#destiel #ficlet #vanessa writes ✨ #long post #post s15

[sailorsally]

looking at pics of misha from burcon with his hair being on the longer side for the first time in a while and thinking about Cas' hair getting long for the first time after he got back from the empty and became human. Thinking about Dean moving around their small kitchen at their half run down but well loved lake house, looking for the scissors he put somewhere. He grabs a folding chair and fills a spray bottle with some water in the sink and brings everything out to their tiny porch. He sets it all up and lets Cas know.

Cas comes out shirtless and barefoot, wearing Dean's old pyjama bottoms, a towel thrown across a shoulder, lazily drying his hair with its corner. For a second the setting sun paints his torso in warm orange and Dean's heart skips a beat because of how gorgeous Cas looks. He sits down in the chair Dean has set up for him and let's Dean work on his hair. Dean starts small, shyly trims a curl, then another. Cas doesn't move, his eyes are fixed on the lake in front of their house reflecting the sunset. Dean works, takes off more and more hair. The circle of black hair surrounds Cas' feet gently planted on the wooden floor and for a moment Dean is reminded of the Empty & he almost cuts Cas' neck. Cas winces & Dean apologies and hides his joy (Cas is alive!) in the crook of his own neck.

When he's done, he cleans Cas' neck with the damp towel and brings out the mirror. "Here, have a look", he offers. Cas studies himself in the mirror and Dean can't stop thinking about how normal he looks checking himself out. And then about how Cas is human now. And then about how Cas chose to be human. For him. And then he wants to cry and scream and kick except he feels like a 100 year old oak planted deep in the soil, unmoving. Then he feels strong arms enclosing him in a hug and he can hear Cas' rumbling against his ear, "Thank you, Dean. I look good" and by god he is right, he does look good. So what is Dean supposed to do? Other than kiss him. And kiss him he does.

#girl help i have caught feelings once again #spn hcs #ficlet #sort of i guess #to write #maybe #destiel #spn #Destiel fic #destiel fic let

[casdeans-pie]

Dean flirts with a diner waitress one day while him and Sam are working a case (Cas is busy). She gives him a pleasant-customer-service smile until her eyes lock onto his shoulder. She goes pale and backs away and Dean looks at his shoulder like ?????

She tries to make an excuse to leave and bolts out the back door but Dean is Suspicious(TM) and follows her before she can get very far.

She says she's not looking for trouble, she just wants to be left alone, she's made a life for herself here etc etc.

"What are you talking about?" Dean demands, about to reach for his gun.

"You... You’re Dean Winchester." She gestures to his shoulder. "Only Dean Winchester has Castiel's mark and claim on him."

Dean gently touches his shoulder, where the handprint used to be, and he's like, "You're an angel." .......... then he gets his phone out and he's finding Cas's number and slamming the phone to his ear all frowny faced and says to her, "What do you mean, claim? And the mark isn't even there anymore- I- Hey Cas? Cas, there's an angel here who- no I don't know her name- does it matter? Look she says- no don't come here we're fine- she says you left a claim on me with that- y’know that handprint thing and- what do you mean you were going to tell me??? Tell me now-"

And the whole time Dean is getting progressively frownier and his nose is getting redder and he's gripping his shoulder tighter and the angel is watching like, This is the Michael Sword?? This is the Righteous Man??? This is the human Castiel left his mark on?????

#another sleepy lil ficlet #dean should absolutely have accidentally flirted with and angel and theyre like woAH Im not touching Dean Winchester #Castiel's got visibile dibs on that man #destiel #destiel ficlet #my ficlet

[annmariethrush]

Thinking about Dean sitting in bed in the bunker with his big headphones on listening to Carrie & Lowell by Sufjan Stevens and letting himself cry cause he misses Cas and wishes that Cas would just stay. Just once. Feeling like he’s done everything to try and get him to stay short of outright asking. Regretting every time he’s pushed him away when he should have asked him to stay instead.

Thinking about Cas driving his truck on a dark road in silence, trying not to think about anything when he feels a distant wash of anguish come over him. A melancholy melody starts playing through his head that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. It repeats over and over “all of me wants all of you.”

#ripping my own heart out listening to Sufjan #this is my own fault #but these two longing after one another is my brain worms #all of me wants all of you Sufjan Stevens #sufjan Stevens #destiel drabble #destiel #deancas #casdean #destiel imagine #destiel ficlet #destiel fic #spn #supernatural #Castiel #Dean Winchester

[queerstudiesnatural]

dean walks into cas' room one night when he's had enough of pacing in his own room and bursts out "why?"

cas looks up from his book, looks at dean with his eyebrows furrowed and says, "i don't think that was a full sentence."

dean rolls his eyes then shrugs because cas is kinda right, and tries again. "why do you love me?"

cas leans back against the wall behind his bed, which he is sitting on with his legs straight out in front of him, and says quietly, "i've already told you why. do you really need me to give you that whole speech again?" in a tone indicating that he doesn't particularly want to but that he will, if asked.

"no, i mean, how?" dean says. "how can you love me? how can you look past... why don't you... i mean, all i do is mess things up. i'm not good with people, i'm always angry, i- i've caused more than one apocalyptic event. i yell all the time, and i push people away, and i've hurt you so many times, and i- i just don't get it. i don't understand why you don't see that."

"i do see it," cas says calmly. he tilts his head to the side, looking for his words. "i do see all of these things. you are not a perfect man, dean. you can be quite frustrating sometimes. but how much of a hypocrite would i be if i held that against you? i have messed up too, perhaps more than you. i am not good with people either. i have pushed you away many times, not only hurting you, but myself as well. i have stubbornly clung to my need to fix things on my own when i should have trusted you. and you've managed to forgive me every time. can you not see how i can do the same?"

dean's mouth opens and closes a few times, then he says, "but you always had a good reason. you've always been good."

"so have you, dean. every mistake you've made was in an attempt to help someone else. me, on several occasions. you are not the consequences of your actions, dean. you are the intentions behind your actions." after a pause, he adds, "i would say this is why i love you, but i don't think it is. i don't love you because you're good. i love the bad, too. i don't have a reason to love you, i just do."

dean looks at his angel, sitting awkwardly on his unmade bed, his discarded book laying open next to him, its pages folded at an unnatural angle against the mattress, and thinks, it doesn't matter. none of it matters. maybe it did once, maybe it will again. but right now, nothing matters but the joy he feels at having cas here and safe and casually going through his t-shirts any time he needs a change of clothes.

he walks up to the bed and lies down next to cas, his head on cas' stomach, his arms around his waist. "thank you," he whispers, a tear sneaking its way down his nose. "thank you."

he feels a hand land gently on the top of his head, fingers carding through his hair, slowly massaging circles into his scalp. the hand moves in small motions until it reaches his temple, his cheekbone, the hollow of his cheek. it wipes away the tears on dean's skin, and dean only cries harder at the tenderness of it. he grabs the hand and folds cas' arm around him. he intertwines his fingers with cas', taking his time to feel all the points of contact between them. his lips find the back of cas' hand, and with his eyes closed, he says, "i can't quite believe i get to have this yet. i don't know if i will ever truly believe it. but i love you too. i wasn't sure before because, well. i'm me. i'm not good at putting things into words. but i know now. i love you and i'm happier when you're here. i'd like you to stay with me. uh, if you want to, that is. if you want to stay with me then i'm all yours. forever."

he hears a sniff as cas' hand squeezes around his. "yes, dean. that would be nice."

dean falls asleep soon after that, unbothered by nightmares, and when he wakes up a full eight hours later, cas is still warm against him, their hands still intertwined, and in his own heart he feels the noticeable absence of the ever-present flutter of fear.

#hi guess i can't escape the hold destiel has on me no matter how hard i try #rain posts #ficlet #destiel #destiel fic

[hauntedpearl]

in the good spn in my head, dean and cas sneak off to cuddle between cases all the time and everyone knows about it and no one says anything.

and i don't mean, like, you know. they're hooking up or together or anything. i mean literally just. hold hands. or lie together. hug each other. simple acts of physical comfort. like that one skrog comic where cas reads the parenting books and offers dean a hug!

i think it'll start out very randomly, very unconscious. maybe somewhere in late s9, after the whole angel army thing and the Ezekiel/Gadreel thing. they're probably just hanging out together, watching a movie or something. and Dean is so tired. he's so so so tired. he just wants to rest, you know? so he doesn't notice when he starts leaning against Cas, and notices even less when he passes out and slides down into his lap. Cas, for his part is both exhilarated and scared by the proceedings so he just kind of sits all still and unmoving, one hand holding dean's shoulder so he doesn't fall on his face when he's the trying to roll over and the other resting very lightly in his hair. cas thinks it's soft. Dean's hair is soft and not rough to touch. that feels like a miracle, somehow.

when they wake up dean is suuuuuper weird about it, but then he also realizes he's slept better than he has in ages. logically, it's because he's got another breathing body in the room with him. that's always been a source of comfort. but at this point, he also knows himself and he knows that the other half of it is because that body is Cas' and his monkey brain curled up in his fantasy world where this was a regular normal occurence. but anyway. yes at first he's like haha lol weird and awkward, but then cas looks at him like 🥺🥺🥺 and dean's spine is literally a pool noodle in general when it comes to cas things so he gives up the ghost.

it's a slow and stilted start, but it escalates very quickly. first they're reluctantly sitting on the couch in the dean cave together in a way their shoulders touch, and dean awkwardly lies on cas' lap all the while his brain is like omg his dick is right there, which, you know, not very helpful. but then cas will stroke his hair or his arm and his brain is static — the good kind— and he slips into sleep so easily. a few months later, they barely think before dean's maneuvering himself against the arm of the couch and cas settles between his legs, his back to dean's chest and they just cuddle all night. Then, they start going out on drives to nowhere. they'll stop at a diner sometimes, or just drive into the middle of nowhere, and then share a beer on Baby's hood wherever they stop. This ritual is sacred to dean (has only ever done it with sam [brother] and cassie [literally so in love])so he feels super nervous the first few times and then, like everything else they've been doing, it becomes habit.

Sometime around the year/year and a half mark, dean has a pretty bad nightmare and cas senses it bc he happens to be in the bunker and he shows up in his room like are you okay??? and Dean's like yeah yeah I'm good and cas is like do you want me to put you to sleep (talking about his grace) but dean's like nods. shakes his head. nods again. and cas is like ??? so dean's just like. just get in bed with me. and take off your coat. cas is confused but again, he is like a greedy lil man, so he gets into bed and holds dean until dean's sleeping, snoring against his collarbone and cas is thinking this is probably what joy is supposed to feel like.

so that becomes a regular thing.

they're essentially dating at this point, but no one says anything and they pretend like they don't have this thing going on (barely) behind the doors. they never talk about it, they never talk to anyone about it. but it's happening. it's like a beehive. they don't want to disturb it bc they know that whatever's behind all this is probably Chaos™ and they really don't have the spoons to deal with all that.

HOWEVER, important to note: everyone who has ever stayed at the bunker has walked in on them all cuddled up at some point or the other (Sam, Kevin, Charlie, Rowena, Mary, Eileen, CLAIRE) and they also don't say anything but this is kind of why everyone knows.

they kiss one(1) time and it's somewhere post-tombstone, pre-empty deal where things are Particularly Bad for all of them, and him and Dean are like. somewhere out in the fields. Dean's kind of drunk but he doesn't worry because Cas can always drive them back. and they're just sort of sitting there watching the sun set or sth. and Dean, seemingly randomly kisses him. it's kind of intense and crazy and Cas kisses him back but that's pretty much it. they don't talk about it that day, and they don't talk about it the days after that and the next time they sneak out, it's all back to normal.

But when Cas seeks out Dean's space, Dean doesn't stop him. Like he'll scoot across the front bench and just mold himself into Dean's side and Dean will drape an arm over his shoulder and they pretend like that's Normal and Doesn't Mean Anything.

Once, when they're in Dean's bed and Dean is holding Cas, he asks him, "don't you ever want more?" and Cas wants to say that he wants everything. he wants every atom that makes up Dean. but he also doesn't want to shatter whatever this fragile thing is. He's content with this too. he also knows that dean's gratitude is twisted and he will fold himself into roles he doesn't want for others. but the thing is, he doesn't fully understand what Dean is asking him. what he's telling him. so all he says is "You're my best friend." that's just as much of a confession. but they're speaking different languages and they still haven't learnt how to translate. dean just sighs, presses a barely there kiss to the back of Cas' neck and goes. "thanks, cas. you're my best friend, too." and that's that.

the deal - jack- Michael, all of it is a blur. all of it happens together. they stop the joyrides after that, finding excuses whenever they do have the time to do something else. movie nights are still sacred, and sometimes dean will let cas in his room when the nightmares are worse, but it's not the same..they're both holding things back — dean, the future he knows he wants now without a doubt but feels like he can't have and cas, the deal that'll kill him because he thinks Dean might want the same things. it's the most fucked up little tragedy.

after the empty takes cas and chuck is gone and they get him back, dean's like. what the fuck. and cas is like it's okay you didn't have to say it back i didn't expect you to and dean is like *I* asked you..before everything. i ASKED you. and cas is like but i don't want you to do it just for me and dean is like WTF DO YOU MEAN JUST FOR YOU i was there the whole time!! i kissed you!! and cas is like YOU WERE UPSET and dean's like we were literally dating!!! you just had to say something!!! and cas is like why didn't YOU say something then and dean is like I DID ASK and they go around in circles for like an hour before they start crying and hugging and dean is like i love you I love you so much i don't know what to do with it and cas is like i didn't know. i didn't know. and then they kiss.

PS: this is also why jack 100% thinks they're together and is very confused when they make the announcement officially because he thought they just didn't kiss in front of him. because like. sometimes moms and dads don't do that! like in tv shows!!!

#hahahah this got away from me but i don't regret it!!! #spn headcanons #destiel ficlet #doe is talking again

[velvethopewrites]

Happy destiel/castiel day! Here, have a drabble of warm fluffy fluff to start your week off right! September 18th, baby! (I’m a dork, especially for that angel!) 🤗🤓😇

Just Cas

“You know, I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Cas stops rinsing out his coffee cup and glances over at Dean, sure that the confusion is clear on his face.

“You walking into that barn. Changing my life. Making me doubt all the life choices that led to me being unable to tell you how smokin’ hot you were.”

Cas turns back and drops his head, smiling. He finishes the remaining few cups and turns around as he dries his hands. He takes a deep breath and leans back against the kitchen counter, making sure to keep his expression neutral. This is the same dance they do every year and Cas loves it.

“You didn’t think I was “hot”, Dean. You were scared, confused, and more than a little pissed off, as a matter of fact.”

Dean smirks as he stands up from the table, a knowing look on his face. “Okay, yeah. Fair. But later on, every time I replayed that scene in my head you only got hotter and hotter, babe.”

Dean moves forward and wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, smelling of sunshine and leather. Basically he smells like Baby after he’s given her a nice cleaning and long drive to ‘stretch her legs’. Unsurprisingly, it is also one of Cas’s favorite scents. Dean leans forward, heat and mischief in his eyes.

“We could do a reenactment today, in the bedroom, if you know what I mean. We could dig out the old trench from the back of the closet, light some sparklers and go to town.” As if to prove his point, Dean leans in even closer, bringing their bodies into contact.

Cas snorts before he can stop himself, his neutrality over the subject disappearing like the soap bubbles down the drain behind him. “Really? You want to be intimate while I’m wearing that coat and you’re…what? Holding cheap and dubious pyrotechnics behind me? Dean.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to re-capture the romantic moment we met, Cas. Nothing wrong about that. If you want, I could pretend to stab you again.”

“With a knife or with something else?” Cas deadpans, hearing his voice go deeper even as Dean’s eyes dilate in reaction.

“Hmm, we’ll leave that part open for discussion.” Dean moves in again and they’re suddenly kissing. Cas thinks how glad he is that he gets to have this. Gets to have Dean. Oh, if only his younger, angelic self could see him now…

Dean eventually breaks their kiss and waggles his eyebrows, making his handsome face look silly and playful. Yet he’s still beautiful. “Well, what do you say? Up for some hanky-panky in the middle of the day to celebrate the anniversary of your entrance into my life, O’ Angel of Mine?”

Cas bites his lip and doesn’t say anything, tilting his head for old time’s sake as though he’s debating his next move. He gently takes Dean’s hand and turns him around to lead him from the kitchen. Yes. He will take this time to be with Dean. As a present to himself. As a present to both of them.

And later, when they are both sated, naked, and still tangled in the sheets of their bed, he will tell Dean anew all the ways that he’s changed him - from that blunt, cold unfeeling angel into this, whatever he is - a flawed, no-longer-bound-with-celestial-intent being that somehow loves his simple life. Just as it is. Dean is still Dean and he is finally, just Cas. Loved and known, at last.

Tagging @fellshish and @canonblastedships @clarkenting for some reblogs, help a strange sad writer girl bestie out. 😇🥰

#fan fic #destiel #happy castiel day! #September 18th #spn #my writing #drabble #destiel-ficlet #dean and cas #fluffy #Castiel #Just Cas #Just Dean

[pointyearedelvishprincling]

Castiel remembered the first frost on this infant planet. Recalled the majesty of each fallen snowflake, each so beautiful in vastly different shapes than the next. He remembered the first sunrise on the first ocean. The first breath of life in the first creature. The first light of the first stars.

He remembered the first sight of Dean Winchester’s soul in hell. Remembered each freckle, each pore, every hair on his head as he wove the stardust he was made of back into existence.

He remembered the first time he felt awe, felt curiosity, felt devotion. He felt all of it now as his life’s breath plumed between them in the icy air. Saw all the beauty in all of history in the green eyes studying him sheepishly in the way the angel was akin to when Dean thought he wasn’t looking. It was far from the first time Cas wished to close the distance between them. To taste and feel and experience the beauty and explosion of life and death and all things in between that was Dean Winchester. He’d imagined it many times on many nights, darker and less snowy than this.

But for the first time it seemed their story left them on the same page. Dean’s lips were warm upon his own. His hands nervous on the angel’s cheeks; his lashes brushing against Castiel’s own.

The universe was a vast thing. Full of infinite possibilities and timelines. Castiel had seen so much — felt so much regret and guilt, even before his inevitable fall. But for this moment with the miracle of Dean’s warm lips upon his own, the soft sigh of relief and frantic beat of his heart, it was worth the wait. All of it.

#happy holidays besties!! rest assured they are kissing rn 😌 #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #my writing #ficlet