#dean!cas drabble

[strawlessandbraless]

Angels: Brother, you have been chosen for this mission to save the righteous man from hell. But Castiel, hear me well. Do not covet the Michael Sword, big plans for that sword

*2 minutes later*

Castiel: I will lay claim to this living soul, rebuild him, mark him as my own, and carve my name into his ribs, gonna stare at him a lot, so much, gonna kiss him

#people try and tell me cas isn’t the jealous type #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #destiel #castiel #deancas #gay #misha collins #jensen ackles #spn crack #Michael sword #handprint #spn text post #spn drabble #spn headcanon #spn humor #casposting #cas posting

[deancaskiss]

cas is the one to lean in for a kiss; soft and tender and sweet against dean’s lips. but when he goes to pull away, something yanks at dean’s heartstrings. he grabs at cas, holding him steady so they’re breathing each others air. he’s not ready for the kiss to end. “one more,” dean murmurs against cas’ mouth, stealing another kiss. “one more,” he repeats a few seconds later, making cas smile against his lips. “one more, one more, one more.” and cas pulls dean closer, keeping his mouth against dean’s as he murmurs back, “you can have as many kisses as you want, dean. forever.” this time, cas kisses him deep and slow, as if there was no rush and nothing else in the world except them with their lips pressed together. “one more,” dean whispers, and cas kisses him again.

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #spn #supernatural #deancas #dcsnapshots #hiiii here’s a drabble because I’ve been thinking about this thought for weeks #once dean realizes he can kiss cas… he’s never going to stop stealing kisses

[casdeans-pie]

I know it's been said a million times but

I really wish Cas had been human a while longer and been able to stay at the Bunker.

Dean teaching him how to be human would have been so SO good

And listen, I love Dean teaching Cas the romantic human stuff as much as anyone. but I think even better would be all the weird human stuff.

Because, c’mon those two are already so goddamn weird together anyway.

Like, explaining to Cas about 'all that crusty eye gunk' he'll get after a bad night's sleep. Or like, about blowing his nose (Cas's nose does that whistling thing one day and it nearly drives Dean crazy). Showing him how to clip his nails without catching his skin. How to cure the hiccups.

Cause like. Cas knows humans are weird. But he's never had to experience that weirdness firsthand before.

Also it doesn't occur to either of them that Sam could be teaching Cas any of these lessons.

If anyone is going to teach Cas about the weirdness of the human body of course it's gonna be Dean.

#humans are messy and weird and Dean would be the BEST teacher for Cas once he got over the initial embarrassment #destiel #destiel headcanon #human!cas #destiel drabble

[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

[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

[castieldelamancha]

It's almost an accident, how Castiel comes to this particular realization. He is using his hands on Dean's cheeks to check his face for any injuries that may need cleaning or even stitching lately, moving Dean's head gently from side to side, when, as he is about to let go, Dean wordlessly tilts his head down, letting the weight of his head be held by Castiel's open hands.

He does exactly that, their eyes meeting for a brief second, his thumbs caressing Dean's cheekbones.

Another thing, he tells himself, he wants but will never allow himself to ask for. No the first one he has found out about, and it won't certainly be the last one either.

He reverently cradles Dean's face for a moment and from then on, it feels like he never lets go. He does it before leaning in to kiss his forehead, right after Dean shaves too, his skin smooth to the touch, and he still does it when he decides he wants to grow a beard (he will claim later on Castiel's opinion on it isn't a valid one because he simply smiled at him and told him he always looks handsome to him, with or without facial hair). He does it to pull Dean closer for a kiss, right as his laughter is slowly fading because apparently Castiel keeps being, without even trying to, hilarious.

"What do you need?" He asks in the dark, as he usually does after Dean has a nightmare, because that's what Dean asked him the first around he had one, he is sure Dean won't say anything, he will shake his head and tell him to go to sleep.

He doesn't.

Instead trembling hands close around Castiel's wrists and gently tug at them until Castiel gets what he means and closes his hands over the sides of his face. Dean has his eyes closed, but Castiel watches them anyway, moving rapidly under his eyelids, his thumbs caressing his cheekbones. He feels proud, he doesn't know if it's at himself for becoming such a safe haven for the one that needed one the most, or if it's at Dean, for being brave enough to ask for what he wanted.

"Thank you," he mutters and Dean scoffs lightly at that, opening one eye to look at him.

"Should be the one saying that, you weirdo." Dean hasn't let go of his wrists yet, he gives them a light squeeze, he leans in, even closer, and the kiss he gives Cas is full of said gratitude and a love he can feel his own heart echoing back at Dean's.

#started 3 different drabbles had a meltdown wrote this instead que aproveche #destiel #vanessa writes #ficlet #weirdo is like dean's fav pet name for cas #is in retaliation because sometimes cas calls him chickpea garbansito

[nayeliq1]

June 12th, prompt: Adventure

Grey has overtaken Dean's hair.

His skin has gone soft and wrinkly, his knees crack every time he crouches down, his steps have become slower, his arms weaker.

But that's okay, that's just what old age is like. He's just lucky he gets to experience it at all, and with Cas by his side - equally grey, equally wrinkly. Getting old really isn't all that bad when you get to watch the love of your life doing it alongside you.

Today, Jack has told them. Dean had known it was coming, it's alright.

"You ready?", Dean asks that night, a wrinkly hand searching for Cas' under the blanket.

"Yes." Cas squeezes his fingers, smiling calmly. And despite the lump in his throat, Dean isn't afraid, and he knows neither is Cas. "I've been ready for some time."

"I know, sweetheart."

"Are you scared?"

Dean's heart is beating a little too fast, but he shakes his head.

"Not really", he says truthfully. "Bit nervous, maybe. But hey, that's what imminent death will do to ya."

"It'll be fine, Dean." Cas pulls Dean's hand to his lips, presses a kiss to skin marked by age spots. "We'll be together in the Heaven our son built for us. If you know it's not the end, death is nothing but the next great adventure."

Cas is right, of course.

"And I can't wait to go on that adventure with you."

"See you soon", Cas smiles right before they close their eyes. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

Dean falls asleep with a feeling of peacefulness filling his whole body, and when he opens his eyes again, their bedroom is gone. He stands on a bridge surrounded by forest, body young and strong. Baby is there, but he doesn’t get in. He waits.

There's a shift in the breeze, a presence in his back.

"Hello, Dean."

And Dean smiles.

Let the adventure begin.  

For @starcrosseddeancas Dreamy Drabbles

#this is far too long I'm so sorry #but eeeeeh we can let it get a bit out of hand as a land hurray on the last challenge day yeah? #dreamy drabbles #last day of dreamy drabbles #this went by so fast whut #destiel drabble #inspired by the ending of my fix-it fic #spn drabble #destiel ficlet #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #dean winchester gets to get old #as he deserved #cas is the love of deans life yall #drabble prompt: adventure #soft destiel #destiel fluff #my writing

[collarbjt]

Im newb, still watching s06, but I already know the ending of castiel and also saw the script “But still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.”,

I cant stop imagining whatIF-Cas and Dean’s alive and getting older with his angel….

Maybe there will be some day, Dean realise that how Cas thinks about him

After so long, when he’s being an old man, maybe one day, he‘ll asks his angel wryly, “Still beautiful?”

And ofc Castiel will answer with his voice, “Still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.”

Maybe it’s Dean’s last day on earth so with Castiel’s real voice, Dean close his eyes, and right after that moment, Dean’s soul and Cas have an eye contact, and they’ll laugh

No ripper’s required, he’ll go to the place wherever he can go with Cas.

Inspired by Lana’s “Young and beautiful” song

SBSD

#destiel #supernatural #castiel #dean and cas #spn #dean winchester #still dean winchester #still beautiful #headcanon? #SBSD #spn drabble #songfic #what if #lana del rey #young and beautiful

[casxsunshine]

They're lying in bed; it's half-dark in the bedroom. Dean thinks he could spend eternity like this: with Castiel's chest pressed against his back (yes, Dean's a little spoon, and he's not ashamed), with Cas' arms wrapped around him, like he's the most precious thing in the whole universe.

In the warmth. Safe.

Dean lounges in Castiel's arms for a bit longer, feeling the angel's breath on his neck. Then he turns to face Cas.

“Why do you love me?” Dean asks. He can't help but asks, because he's Dean Winchester, the I-can't-believe-that-you-love-me guy. He needs to know. He closes his eyes and runs his nose lightly over Cas'. This tenderness is small and intimate at the same time. “There are millions of people in the world and you chose me anyway.”

“Dean,” Castiel mutters, and Dean can feel the angel's warm breath settling on his lips.

“Tell me,” he asks without opening his eyes. “I want to know. Please.”

Castiel is silent for a while, making small circles on Dean's back.

“I remember saving your soul from Hell.” He says eventually. “There, in the darkness and terror of the underworld, I held your soul in my hands like a little kitten. You were covered in blood, and there was little humanity left in your eyes. But you know, your soul was still shining like a little sun, despite the nightmare around you. And you thought you deserved to be there. That selling your soul for your brother was the only right thing to do. You fought back in the beginning when I carried you up to the light. You growled and cussed and scratched, but then you... You went quiet, as if you realized something, and you... You cried. You cried and you curled up in my arms, so small and so... Brave. And I guess I somehow already knew then that we are bonded.”

Dean listens, holding his breath. He still hasn't opened his eyes.

“And when I reassembled you, when I placed each of your freckles in its place, I... I didn't understand feelings yet, didn't know anything about it, but I realize now that even then I hoped deep down inside that I would be able to touch your body again someday.”

Castiel puts his palm on Dean's chest, right where Dean's heart is beating loudly, and kisses his chin softly.

“I love everything about you, Dean. People sometimes say that to love is to ignore the worst aspects of a person and exalt their best. But I... I love you for everything. For all the light in you and all the dark in you - though there's much, much more light in you, even if you try so hard to deny it. You care about your family, you care about the world. You have so much love in you, my little human, and you spend it so generously on everyone but yourself that I can't help but love you for it.”

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #dean is bi #castiel is gay #i love destiel #i will never stop thinking or writing about how bright dean's soul is and how cas loves it #cas carrying dean's soul in his hands is my favorite thing #fanfic #drabble #destiel fic

[hauntedpearl]

Prompt Day 4: Touch for @starcrosseddeancas

(TW: nonspecific drug use!), endverse destiel

When did he stop feeling the weight of his wings?

Castiel doesn't know.

He exhales, and smoke curls in the air in front of him, a half spiral dissipating into nothing. Castiel watches the curve of it, and thinks about bees, and humans, and the Divine Plan. It makes him laugh.

A breath, a sigh, and something sour on his tongue, and the world turns muted and soft, blurry along the edges. He crawls through time, and the hazy air, and feels the imprints left on his skin by soft hands, and calloused fingers, feels them like they're divots digging into his bones.

He doesn't feel his wings.

He leans back, and he is with Dean, who is rough, and desperate, and somehow tender, still, and he lets Castiel sink his teeth into his lips even if he draws blood, holds him close enough that the world falls apart, falls away, until there is only this, only him, panting in his ear, loud, and hot, and wet. His palm roves the skin of this body, makes a mass of craters of it.

"I can't feel them anymore," he tells Dean, later, in the quiet, in the cold, in a world coming together with each breath. "I can't feel my fucking wings."

#dreamydrabble #doe's writing #endverse destiel #spn drabble #OKAY SO IDEA IS. COPING MECHANISMS ETC #also sorry i don't write smut ever im so sorry if it's stupif #ALSO MY IDEAL SPN: CAS HAS PROBLEMS. DEAN IS HIS BOYTOY #okay thanks bye

[beckysangelgrace]

My love has returned to me... oh shit! he gave me a boner 😳

#spn parallels #destiel #spn fanart #cas and dean #dean and cas #spnfamily #spnfandom #spn drabble #otp

[trenchcoatimpala]

It’s Christmas night and Dean gets drunk off spiked eggnog. He refuses to let Cas’ hand go for longer than a minute. Cas is just happy to be there, and he can’t stop looking at Dean with soft, fond eyes. Dean grins drunkenly at him and kisses him under the mistletoe and tells Cas that he’s the best Chirstmas present he could ever have. Anyone Dean and Cas walk up to will hear Dean slur through a bright eyed smile, “he’s mine. My Cas. We’re together” and then Dean will wander back off, tugging Cas with him, and Cas goes willingly because he will always, always, follow Dean. 

#christmas destiel drabble #trenchcoatimpala writes #my writing #idk felt chirstmasy #and i thought of dean and cas being cute

[hells-plaid-angel]

They’re on a hunt when it happens. It’s something so innocuous Cas doesn’t think about the action until they’re driving home. They’d pursued their monster-of-the-week and run into another hunter who claimed they were an old friend of John Winchester. 

It took too long for them to realise the hunter was the one behind the killings, acting as a go-between, doing some dirty work for Hell. They found themselves cornered in the man’s yard, trapped and backed into a corner with a not-so-friendly looking hunting dog standing between them, and the high fence, their only exit. Cas’ grace was failing, so he was unsure if he could get himself and the Winchester brothers out of the mess unscathed. 

Cas knew many things about Dean Winchester, he knew he wasn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty but he also knew any man with a gun in his hand, who found themselves backed into a corner would be tempted to fire. It wasn’t often Dean surprised Cas, but that day he did. He held his hands out in front of himself, open-palmed and moved slowly to greet the animal. Its pinned ears and raised haunches kept Dean several arms lengths away, but they stood facing each other until the animal calmed.  When it did, Dean touched the creature softly and ushered both Cas and Sam out. By the look on Sam’s face, Cas understood he’d also been surprised Dean’s plan had worked. 

It isn’t until they’ve caught the hunter and driven back to the bunker and Sam had retired to his room that Cas decided to broach the subject. 

“How did you know the dog wouldn’t attack you?” 

“Call it a hunch,” Dean replied trying to minimise whatever had occurred, letting Cas know he was touching on something important. 

Something Dean didn’t want to talk about, was usually the exact thing he needed to talk about. Cas isn’t sure how he manages it, but after a few prolonged glances and a long stretch of silence, Dean speaks. 

“It’s a hunting dog, Cas. Course it’s going to attack you if it’s been told to. I know they’re dangerous, I ain’t stupid. But you sit with the thing for a while, show it you can trust it,  and maybe it starts to get iffy. Thing doesn’t like to fight, it just does what it’s told. You pet it and confuse the hell out of it. Hunters want the things to be tough, so they never touch ‘em gently. Think it’ll make ‘em soft.” Cas understands.  Dean is the dog. 

Cas wonders if he’s ever been touched gently. He decides it’s his job to make sure Dean is. 

He spots a few scratches and bruises littering Dean’s body from the aftermath of the hunt and pulls him into the kitchen, trying to get a better look at him. He reaches out a hand to heal Dean but the man shrugs him off, making an excuse about not wanting Cas to waste his grace. That won’t do. Cas needs to show Dean that people can be gentle with him.

That’s how the two end up knee to knee at their unconventional version of a dining room table, with Cas helping to cradle a packet of frozen peas to Dean’s face. Cas tentatively strokes a thumb over the underside of Dean’s eyes, along his cheekbones. No one taught Cas how to be gentle, so he’s unsure if he’s doing it right, but from Dean’s stunned silence he thinks perhaps he is.

In the following days, Cas grabs every opportunity he can to touch Dean softly. He shocks Dean speechless as midway through a conversation Cas moves forward and gently brushes a strand of hair to the side, that had fallen into Dean’s eyes. When he needs to move past Dean he places a soft but firm hand in the middle of his back. He even throws a blanket over Dean’s shoulders on a partially cold morning. 

When he begins to run out of ways to be gentle he finds another, one that even Cas knows is toeing the line of things he can get away with. 

“Night, sunshine. I’m hitting the hay,” Dean grumbles, rising from his seat beside Cas in his ‘Dean Cave’ as the movie they were watching comes to a close. 

Cas stands with him before he can talk himself out of it and cautiously, places a kiss to Dean’s cheek. He lets it linger before pulling and mumbles, 

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. He raises a hand to his cheek, as though to capture the heat of Cas’ lips and stares at him with wide-eyed amazement. And once more Cas sees the same look of frozen and confused horror as the dog. So it was true. Dean wasn’t used to being treated with such fondness. Cas would have to change that. 

#I've had a brain worm the past few days #so I'm sharing it with you #destiel #deancas #spn #supernatural #destiel ficlet #destiel drabble #dean winchester #bisexual dean winchester #dean studies #cas #castiel #dean meta #let 'em be soft damn it #spn meta #destiel fluff

[velvethopewrites]

Here’s a destiel drabble that just spilled out of me from nowhere- mostly I was just wondering about when Cas realized his love for Dean and how he felt about it all. I place it around season 8 or 9, maybe? Poor Cas, not fully angelic and not fully human, but somewhere in between.

After the Fall:

Castiel feels a heaviness in his bones tonight. A doubtful conflict from within. Since becoming less angelic and more ‘human’ it is a sense that is becoming all too familiar. The daily aches and pains most humans carry around with them were a shock to him at first, but in time he grew used to them. But this — this weariness—this soul-crushing ache (not that he thinks he has a soul yet but perhaps that is part of the problem) sometimes it is almost too much to bear.

He is keeping watch over the Winchesters. Over Dean. As always. The night is almost over - his angelic grace still keeps him in that space of being able to tell when dawn is ready to break. It’s not a very useful attribute but Castiel will take what he can get at this point. Dean tosses in his bed, snoring lightly. Castiel glances at him, easily picking out his sleeping form through the darkness of the hotel room. And the heavy, suffocating feeling wounds its way through him again. He pulls his eyes away to look back out the window. There is something about watching Dean now that eats at him in a way it hasn’t done before. More pain, more confusion…more yearning.

Castiel scoffs at himself. And yet…

Dean and Castiel have always had a more profound connection - Castiel cares for Sam, but only as a fellow solider, a fellow brother in arms. Before the fall he would have argued he felt the same for Dean but now he understands that for the falsehood it is - he has never felt as though Dean were his brother. He has always felt that he and Dean are more. Even before he could understand what that meant.

It is not purely physical, although Dean is a very attractive man. Castiel has never had much use for physical beauty - he understands it, can recognize it, but has always felt the shallowness of such things and not paid it much attention. But Dean…Dean is so much more than how he looks. His soul shines with his righteousness and his bravery. His ability to still love and care while his life has been full of such pain, it is amazing to Castiel. There is a brightness in Dean that never wavers. It is this that Castiel finds the most intriguing; it is this that pulls him closer and closer until he can see nothing else at all. Nothing else but Dean.

There are many who have noticed this trait of his and used it against them; there are many who laugh at what they perceive to be his ultimate weakness. But Castiel is beginning to feel as though it is also one of his greatest strengths.

Anna once told him it gets worse, this “feeling” business that humans suffer through. And she was right. This gnarled, unfed desire in him - it feels as though sometimes it will tear him apart.

But it also makes him feel alive. And nearer to his father’s creation than anything in Heaven ever did. Perhaps he is just a foolish angel, slowly losing his grace as well as his mind. But Castiel doesn’t think so. He was tasked with saving Dean Winchester. Loving him…yes, Castiel can finally admit that, if only in his own head, loving him was a bonus. A surprise he never saw coming and yet it feels so completely right.

The hungry ache seems to ease inside of him as he embraces the idea of his love for Dean. Castiel will do what needs to be done - he will bury his feelings because he knows Dean will never understand them. And that is fine. Castiel does not need his love reciprocated for it to mean something. And he will work through these…pinings in due time.

But for now…

He will watch over Dean and Sam. He will protect Dean as much as he can from whatever evil next comes their way. He will do whatever he needs to do to keep the Winchesters safe. His love - his ache - will undoubtedly grow - but he is an angel, even still. And he is used to loving that which is unseen - that which does not respond. He was created to fight, to serve the law and word of God. But Castiel now believes he was also created to love. Loving Dean is his divine right.

Castiel feels a lightness in his bones tonight. Finally, there is peace.

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Please be kind, “my writing skills are rusty”. Reblogs = love ❤️

#Castiel #destiel #drabble #my writing #destiel drabble #Castiel centric #dean and cas #fan fic #destiel fic

[urne-buriall]

Dreamy Drabble Prompt: Stars

Cas slept in the bunkhouse loft the summer he ranched for John. From the window he stepped onto the tin roof, still sun-warm after nightfall. He inclined his head to the distant sky. More stars than Chicago ever knew. He understood the word 'rapture.'

In the intervening years he thought of those skies; there wasn't time for stargazing in Boulder. Fitting that when he should find them again, he'd kiss Dean for the first time under the stars.

Rapture, and again rapture: lying on the grass of their own ranch, the star-studded night wasn't a distant coldness, but a blanket.

prompts :: spirit of the west

#dreamydrabble #destiel drabble #honestly I write so much about stars and dreams and things #when I said that prompt list was up my alley I meant I'd already written about most of it #anyway Cas is so enraptured by Dean and everybody knows it #this is once more spirit of the west related

[nayeliq1]

What if Dean had tried to confess after his prayer in Purgatory? What if Cas had stopped him, knowing what Dean wanted to say, knowing he couldn’t let him say it? What if Cas had told Dean then and there about his deal with the Empty? What then?

(I integrated this drabble in the last chapter of this fic, so this is the context, don’t read of you’re still reading “Bound”, it’s a spoiler)

June 11th, prompt: Tied-Up

"Cas?"

"Yes, beloved?"

"Are you happy?"

Such a small question. Such a heavy weight resting on it.

He could feel his shoulders tensing instinctively, his fingers feeling numb for a second. Old habits died hard, and he had spent a very long time not allowing himself to be happy, not even allowing himself to think of the word, as if the mere thought could manifest it into existence.

But it only took one look at Dean to remind him that he didn't need to do that anymore.

It was the look in Dean's eyes, the warmth there. It was the softness to his jaw when he smiled. It was the fact that for the first time since that fateful day in Purgatory, it seemed that it didn't hurt Dean to look at him.

Their hands had been tied up behind their backs from the moment Cas made his deal with the Empty, but those bounds could never compete with the bond that had tied their souls together ever since Cas had laid a hand on Dean in Hell.

He reached out and traced his fingers down the side of Dean's face, smiling.

"Yes, beloved", he said. "I'm incandescently happy."

For @starcrosseddeancas Dreamy Drabbles

#dreamydrabble #destiel drabble #spn drabble #destiel ficlet #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #inspired by fanfiction #destiel fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing #drabble prompt: tied up #nothing ties like the ties that tie dean and cas #cas' empty deal #destiel fluff #also sneaky little pride and prejudice reference #when you know you know