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deancaskiss · 3 years

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strawberry kisses

Kiss #19 - One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

For @jactingjoices 1k followers celebration, prompt: “I told you so”

50 types of kisses collection. Also posted on ao3.

"Did you know strawberries are considered an aphrodisiac?" Cas asked, materializing next to Dean at the kitchen counter.

Dean swore under his breath, the box of opened strawberries clattering against the steel counter as the fruits rolled out in every direction. "Goddammit Cas. Where the hell did you come from?" Dean said, turning around sharply to face Cas.

Dean could've sworn he was alone in the kitchen just five seconds ago. How had Cas managed to sneak up on him like that?

"Sam said you were in here cooking. I thought I'd offer my assistance."

"By sneaking up on me? Yeah, that's helpful," Dean muttered, head spinning as Cas' mention of the ulterior motive of the fruit he'd been about to use bounced around in his head.

"What are you using the strawberries for?" Cas asked, hand reaching out to pick up the fruit that had rolled all the way to the other end of the counter. And dammit all to Hell, now Dean was extremely aware of Cas' hands; the way those long fingers wrapped around each individual strawberry, collecting them in his open palm one by one before turning back to Dean with his hand outstretched.

Oh, how Dean wanted to knock the strawberries right out of Cas' hand and bring those fingers up to his lips and-

Shit.

Maybe strawberries really were an aphrodisiac.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?" Dean startled, almost dropping the box of fruit for a second time. "Oh I- um, strawberry shortcake. Jack wanted to try one this morning but when I suggested getting one from the store he gave me that sad puppy-dog expression that I think he learned from Sam. So now I gotta try to bake one."

Cas nodded, stepping away from the kitchen counter to start shucking off his trenchcoat. Dean dropped the box of strawberries onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, and oh God, Cas without his trenchcoat was almost sinful. Did the angel know that seeing him without the trenchcoat was almost like seeing Cas naked? Striped bare with his forearms exposed as he rolled up his sleeves.

Screw the strawberries. Dean was pretty sure his knees were about to give out and he was going to end up on the floor, too.

“Helping you make this cake. Isn’t it customary to wear an apron while baking?” Cas asked, motioning to the spare apron Dean had found at a thrift store a couple weeks ago.

Except Dean wasn’t paying attention to the apron. Not when his eyes were glued to Cas’ body.

Cas tilted his head, expression puzzled as he searched Dean’s expression. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked a moment later. “I can leave if you don’t want me to bake with-”

“No! No. Stay, Cas,” Dean said, shaking his head to clear the lingering thoughts as he bent down to pick up the box of strawberries. “You just surprised me, that was all.”

Cas smiled, plucking the strawberries from Dean’s hands and setting them safely on the counter. “I like surprising you.”

There was something so simple about that statement. The way Cas almost leaned into Dean’s space as he said it; earnest and honest.

And it should’ve been a sentimental moment.

If Dean’s head wasn’t still stuck on the first thing Cas had said when he’d appeared in the room.

“The um- what you said earlier. About the strawberries. Is that just when you eat them?” Dean asked, inching closer towards Cas.

Cas cocked his head, blinking a couple times in surprise at the turn of the conversation, but he seemed willing to entertain Dean’s curiosity. “Some people say it’s an aphrodisiac to eat them. Some people say just seeing them in the vicinity of someone you’re attracted to is enough to feel the effects.”

“Yeah, I’d believe that,” Dean muttered, eyes darting down to Cas’ lips and lingering.

“Dean.” There was something about the way Cas said his name. Soft and intrigued; reverent and breathy.

Screw it.

Dean could always blame the strawberries… right?

Leaning in, Dean darted his gaze up to Cas’ eyes, and then back down to the angel’s lips. Cas shuddered, closing the gap until they were millimeters apart; his hand settling on Dean’s hip.

Dean hesitated, lips ghosting against Cas’; giving Cas a chance to pull away. “Cas,” he murmured; quiet, desperate, yearning.

Cas pushed forward, catching Dean’s mouth with his own.

Oh God.

It felt like Heaven. Felt like sheer bliss.

Dean moved his mouth against Cas’, and Cas let out a gasp of pleasure.

Oh yes.

Shifting his hands, Dean tugged at Cas’ suit jacket, pulling Cas closer, closer, closer. Their lips collided and melded together, kisses quickly morphing into something desperate and deep.

Dean licked across Cas’ lower lip, stuttering out a breath when Cas opened his mouth for him. And then their tongues were darting against each other; teasing hot brushes that had Dean feeling dizzy with desire.

And then Cas was pulling away, breaking the kiss with a shaky breath, and Dean felt like the world was spinning. But Cas’ hands tightened on Dean’s waist, moving to press firmly against his lower back. “Dean. Do you want to do this?” Cas asked.

Dear God.

Cas’ voice sounded even deeper than normal. As if just by kissing the angel had wrecked his vocal cords.

How could Cas even be asking a question like that? Had Dean not made it clear enough in the way he’d kissed Cas?

Oh, now that just wouldn’t do.

Forgoing words, Dean wrapped a hand around Cas’ tie and yanked him back in, chasing Cas’ mouth into a kiss even more passionate than the last one. Deep and slow, he slipped his tongue into Cas’ mouth and kissed him with every last ounce of yearning he felt. Everything felt slow and hazy, kisses merging from one to the next; pressed against the cool metal counter as Dean slowly memorized the feel of Cas’ mouth tangled with his own.

“Was that answer enough for you?” Dean asked against Cas’ lips, refusing to break the kiss as he kept their lips brushing against each other.

Cas hummed, stealing a couple quick chaste kisses before lingering on the next kiss. “I told you so. Strawberries are an aphrodisiac.”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” Dean said, tugging Cas against him until they were kissing again, laughing against each other’s mouths.

Talking of strawberries though, maybe Dean should sneak one of those into the kisses? Would Cas’ mouth taste even sweeter if they passed a strawberry back and forth between their lips?

Maybe strawberries really were an aphrodisiac. Or maybe it was the image of the strawberries in Cas’ hands. Oh yes. Dean’s own personal aphrodisiac.

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hellfirecas · 2 years

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deep mists of longing blur the land by christopher john brennan

for @jactingjoices’s 1k celebration -> longing | [caption in alt text]

#sorry this is late!#jactingjoices1k #cowboycoven #destieledit #spncreatorsdaily #spnedit #creativecaviar #rambleoncas #deancasedit #deanedit #deanwinchesteredit #dean winchester #spn 13x01 #poetry #13x01 #s13 #destiel #my stuff #still on semi hiatus :/

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saileen-away · 3 years

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follower celebration day two prompt: “family/holidays” ↳ AU where they celebrate Christmas like a big family in the bunker

For @jactingjoices! ♡ Congratulations on your 1k followers!

#if my english was better i could even write a ficlet #if anyone wants to try it be my guest #anyway i hope you like it. congratulations again bestie sana <3 #jactingjoices1k #dean winchester #sam winchester #eileen leahy #jack kline #castiel #claire novak #spn au #au christmas #mine

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

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for the last day of @jactingjoices followers celebration: longing

If you search “grief” online, one of the first results is an article from the National Institutes of Health about “bereavement in adult life.” Dean knows this because Sam did the searching and printed out the article, which includes these words in the introduction:

“After a major loss, such as the death of a spouse or child, up to a third of the people most directly affected will suffer detrimental effects on their physical or mental health, or both. About a quarter of widows and widowers will experience clinical depression and anxiety during the first year of bereavement.”

When Dean read that, he crumpled up the article and threw it in the trash. And wondered why Sam hadn’t just emailed it to him.

Although deleting an email wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying.

Dean doesn’t need Dr. Colin Parkes, author of the article, or any other psychiatrist or doctor or whatever to tell him about what grief feels like. He knows. He’s living in it, in a day-by-day sort of sense. His mental health? Definitely being affected.

No academic article can explain his grief and his longing properly. The writers speak in broad, general terms, trying to paint a picture of a grieving population. For starters, Dean’s not exactly a widower.

(Eileen says that if he feels like one, though, that counts.)

What the researchers do get right is that grief isn’t a one-time, one-size-fits-all type of deal. Sometimes it’s like in the movies, crying on the floor, drinking too much, stuck in bed, living in a haze, but other times?

Other times it’s this.

This is stuck in line at the grocery store. Dean’s got a cart full of groceries, the stuff to make spaghetti and burgers and scrambled eggs and maybe salad because it’s actually not that bad and enough beer for a campground, and then he glances up from scrolling through the news on his phone to see a couple in front of him holding hands.

They look young, and nothing like Dean or Cas or Dean and Cas, but it still hits him like a knife to the ribs (and Dean would know what that feels like). They’re happy, chatting about something, cart full of popcorn and chips and boxes of mac-n-cheese and alcoholic seltzers, and Dean is here and unhappy and wondering how many salads you have to make for your family until it fills the void, especially when an important chunk of your family, the part that you could hold hands with at the grocery store, is in the void.

Dean makes it through check-out and gets the groceries in the Impala’s warded trunk and then he slumps over in the driver’s seat. If he squints, like Cas was wont to do, he can imagine that Cas is outside, walking to the car after putting the cart away in the return. Cas will get in the passenger’s side and they’ll drive home with the radio on low and Dean will cajole Cas into helping him make burgers. He will, they will, they will.

Except they won’t.

Dean drives home alone, and makes dinner alone, and coaches Jack on how to properly wash silverware alone, and falls asleep alone, and he tells no one about the gaping emptiness, and that’s that.

(In his dreams, they are holding hands.)

#jactingjoices1k #offbeatwrites #sorry sana sorry everyone else I am about to do Evil things #ehehehehehe #I AM SORRY!!!#but also. not >:)

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supernatural-jaeger · 3 years

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For @jactingjoices follower celebration💫

Day 3: longing. Cas longs. Longs for the wings he no longer has. Longs for the freedom up among the birds. Big sacrifices for the human(s) he love💙

Tag list: @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @faithroad @caskarass @emeraldcas @chapeldean @angelfirevt @lila-tom @pointyearedelvishprincling @postpunkdean

Let me know if you want to be added or removed ❣️

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postpunkdean · 3 years

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Celebrations in 15.14 Last Holiday

A simple colour edit for the prompt 'holidays' for @jactingjoices's 1k follower celebration!

#jactingjoices1k #spnedit #spn #supernaturaledit #colouredit #postpunkdeanedit #dean #sam #jack #mrs butters #not super original today #or very complex #but i'll have something more fun tomorrow #well i say fun...#but i hope your going to like it sana #and i hope you liked this as well

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xofemeraldstars · 3 years

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·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ @jactingjoices `s 1k celebration *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ — longing

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pointyearedelvishprincling · 3 years

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for @jactingjoices 1k follower celebration

Day 1 Prompt: I told you so/better together

2.5k. Who The Hell Is Clark Kent? by FallenAngelOfThursday

summary: Set eight months after defeating Chuck and getting Cas back. Dean has been working hard to get his crap together. He's not afraid of much, but when it comes to getting a pair of reading glasses, he's stumped. Nothing a little flirting with his angel can't fix.

read below or on ao3

“Forget it, Cas, I’m not going in.”

Castiel sighed. “You have complained all week about how expensive they were, Dean. If you don’t go in there, I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” Dean rose his brows.

Cas turned to him fully in the car seat. They were parked in a loading bay; the only part of the street large enough to fit Baby. The ticket guy could come at any moment, and they didn’t have the time to waste on Dean getting cold feet.

A single brow rose on Cas’ forehead as he stared Dean down.

The bastard loved to watch him squirm.

“Or I will return the cowboy hat I bought as your reward.”

Dean blinked rapidly. He felt the heat rising at the back of his neck, flushing all the way to his cheeks. “You,” he started, unbuckling his seatbelt to face the angel fully. “You got me a cowboy hat?” His voice came out in a low conspiratorial mumble. Was Cas serious right now?

To Dean’s surprise, the angel’s cheeks pinked a little. Cas wasn’t the type to get embarrassed, especially when it came to their bedroom.

“I didn’t buy it for you,” Cas said. He tilted his chin up, shooting Dean a pointed look.

Oh.

Fuck yes.

“I ever tell you I love you?” Dean grinned, shaking his head a little in disbelief.

Cas smiled softly. “I enjoy hearing you say it.”

Dean leaned forward, frowning at the building across the street. “Even when I’ll look like a dork?” he grumbled. Cas’ hand settled on the back of his neck and Dean closed his eyes, relaxing into the touch. Cas bent forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“They’re glasses, Dean,” he mumbled in his ear. “The ability to see doesn’t make you a dork. Forcing me to watch the Star Trek movies twice this month alone makes you a dork.”

“Shut up. They’re classics.” Dean blew out a breath. Why was this such a fucking issue? He’d talked it through with his therapist just yesterday. Which reminded him, he should really send the poor dude some flowers or some shit. Is that a normal thing to send someone who’s listened to you bitch about every problem once a week for eight whole months? Did Seb even like flowers? Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh.

“Dean?” Cas said softly, bringing his other hand to Dean’s cheek, prompting him to meet Cas’ gaze.

Dean’s knees were shaking.

“Nothing’s going to change, Dean. Do you remember what you told me?”

Dean swallowed hard. Yeah, they were just glasses. It wasn’t the glasses themselves – well, not really.

He was getting old. He’d never expected to live half as long, never mind make it to his forties. Then again, he never expected to fall in love with an angel. Or that after twelve whole years of world-ending cockblocking and, admittedly, piss-poor communication, he’d find out Cas had always loved him too. That they could actually have this.

Seb had told Dean he was grieving. At first, it sounded like bullshit. How can you grieve for yourself? It didn’t make any damn sense. But they’d leaned into it for a couple of weeks. Seb had been going hard on the homework these past few months, and it was exhausting. But looking back, Dean could see the difference it’d made. He was grieving: for the time he and Cas had lost. For all the years he’d sacrificed himself – treated himself like he didn’t matter – when there was a chance he could have had everything he ever wanted, if he’d only had the tools to reach for it.

Dean smiled to himself. Seb really spoke his language. He was a good guy. He knew exactly the right metaphors to keep Dean’s head in the game and wasn’t afraid to call him on his bullshit either. Dean didn’t always thank him for it but… it was a process. At least, that’s what all the books said.

“I’m being stupid,” Dean said, trying and failing to fake a smile. He tugged on Cas’ wrist, pulling the angel’s palm toward him so that he could plant a soft kiss there.

Cas looked at him with more patience than Dean had the time to fathom. “Fear isn’t stupid,” the angel murmured. “You’ll still be hot and scary with glasses on.”

Maybe it was the way Cas said it, but Dean choked out a laugh.

“What?” Cas grumbled.

“I’m going to look like an old man,” he said firmly, putting an end to the matter. Still, he felt a little lighter already.

Cas rolled his eyes, gearing up for the same protest he’d had all week. If Dean were honest, most of the time he complained, he’d just wanted to push the angel’s buttons. Cas always found some fun way to shut him up.

Before the love of his whole damn life could bitch him out, Dean pressed a soft kiss to Cas’ lips. It took a while before he’d been comfortable with any kind of PDA, but these days it felt good. Shit, it felt fucking great. The freedom to kiss Cas was one thing, but to do it anytime and anywhere he wanted… there was no other rush like it. Cas didn’t have a single reservation about it. Sam and Eileen hadn’t visited in a while and they suspected it was because of how obnoxious he and Cas were in the privacy of their own home.

Dean couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face and broke the kiss.

“What are you smiling about?” Cas asked, his eyes dazed and sparkling.

Dean shook his head. “Let’s go. If anyone tries to tow Baby, I will murder them. And I do not wanna be the guy wearing glasses in his mugshot.”

Cas only stared in exasperation as Dean got out of the car.

The traffic was light for this time in the evening. The sun was setting beyond, amber light splitting between the city buildings and bathing the damp ground in shimmering light. Dean crossed the road, hand in hand with Cas. He felt like a damn kid right now. Why was he so nervous? The hard part was over. Tests done. Expenses paid. He just had to pick the damn things up and go.

“Mr. Winchester?” the same lady from his appointment last week waved them over from behind the counter.

Dean rolled his shoulders. He dropped Cas’ hand, leaving the angel to sit with a group of old ladies in the waiting area.

“Uh, hey,” Dean said as he approached the desk.

“Right this way,” she smiled. Dean rolled his eyes, shooting a pained look in Cas’ direction. The angel shot him a thumbs up. His tongue peaked through his smile, and his eyes shone with sincerity.

Dean’s heart squeezed at the sight.

He could do this. He’d be a good boy and get his Clark Kent on. And later…

“Take a seat,” the lady said, gesturing to a small table around the corner.

Dean sat. He waited. He picked at a stray thread on the lining of his jeans, and he waited some more. He was growing impatient by the time the lady returned and dropped into the seat opposite. She sat two cases in front of him and Dean frowned.

“Uh, no offence or anythin’ but… I paid out my ass for one pair. I don’t need-“

The lady waved her hand dismissively, cutting him off. “These are your sunglasses,” she said, sliding one of the boxes toward Dean.

He stared blankly at the silver box.

“Your partner saw you checking them out,” the lady smiled pointedly. “He came in and paid for them later that afternoon.”

Dean opened the box, his heart swelling in his chest. He pulled out the pair of sunglasses, turning them over in his hands. They were awesome. Last week, he’d only wanted this pair and decided his eyesight could go to hell. They’d look so good in the Impala.

“Try ‘em on,” the lady said. Dean glanced down to her nametag, squinting as he read Sarah. Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’ll have an easier time reading with your glasses on, Mr. Winchester.”

“It’s Dean,” he corrected, placing the sunglasses on over his nose. Oh shit, he could see. Sure, he must look dumb wearing sunglasses indoors, but-

Sarah held out a mirror and Dean grinned at his reflection.

“These ain’t so bad.”

“Mm,” Sarah agreed. “Your partner knows you well.”

Dean smiled wider. “Sure does.” He placed them back in the box, already thinking of ways he could pay Cas back later.

“Okay, now try these on,” she said, pushing the second box toward him. “If they don’t fit, we can adjust them. No charge.”

Dean gulped as he opened the box. He picked up the frames with gentle fingers. Here goes nothin’.

“It’ll be a new beginning,” Sarah said, watching him with a little too much amusement. Dean shot her a glare, but he put the frames on all the same.

He blinked at his reflection. He’d forgotten how many freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. There were a couple of visible scars here and there from years of hunting but… not bad. He expected to feel a million years old, but now that it came to it, it was no big deal.

“New beginning, huh?” Dean joked. “Clark Kent don’t got shit on me,” He looked over the mirror at the optician to find her staring blankly at him.

“Who the hell is Clark Kent?”

Whatever, Dean thought. Cas would have got the joke.

The glasses did need a little tightening, so Dean was left in his seat for a little while longer. He tried to focus on later, on this supposed cowboy hat Cas had waiting for him at home. Where the hell had he even bought it anyway?

He drummed his fingers on the table, biting his lip. This was his life now, he thought. He wore glasses for driving and TV. He saw a therapist. He had a hot angel boyfriend. They had a Nephilim kid. Dean looked in the mirror again, studying his slightly grown out hair, the thin lines in the corners of his eyes.

Right now, he wouldn’t change a damn thing. He thought of Seb’s words in their last session. Something about how the life ahead of him is more important than the life behind him. It seemed like a dumb cliché at the time, but… maybe it was true. For the first time in his life, Dean was content. Happy. He was making plans. He wasn’t drinking. He was waking up every morning next to his gorgeous best friend, limbs tangled, and cheeks flushed.

For the first time, he was looking forward to whatever the hell tomorrow might bring.

Sarah returned with his frames and Dean tried them on. They fit perfectly. He looked like a dork, but he’d do a lot worse to get his angel into bed with a cowboy hat on.

Dean made his way to the waiting room and found Cas nodding along seriously with a bunch of gossipy old ladies.

“Uh, mind if I steal you, partner?” Dean winked.

Cas’ eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

God damn it, he knew he looked stupid. “Told you so,” Dean grumbled, pulling Cas to his feet. “I look like an idiot. Cas waved at the old ladies as Dean dragged him from the opticians.

“I can’t believe you paid for the sunglasses,” Dean said, pulling the dorky frames off his face.

“Leave them on,” Cas said, his voice low and gravelly.

Dean paused half-way to the car. “What?”

Castiel gently took the glasses from Dean’s hand and placed them back on his face. His breath caught in his throat.

“Uh, you’re kinda staring pretty hard there, buddy,” Dean noted, confused.

Cas blinked. Before Dean could form another thought, Cas’ mouth was on his. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist, returning the kiss until a car stopped behind them and honked the horn, and they were forced to move out of the way.

“Wow there, sweetheart,” Dean panted. “The hell’s that for? Not complainin’, but-“

“Get in the car, Dean,” Cas demanded.

Well, okay then.

Dean said nothing as Cas pulled out his phone, setting a route for their next destination. He didn’t say where and Dean didn’t ask. Honestly, he didn’t have a damn clue what was goin’ on.

A few minutes later, they pulled up at a lake. The place was empty; the last dregs of sunlight bathing the water in tones of fuchsia and gold. Cas said nothing as he got out of the car. Frowning, Dean followed.

“Nice spot,” Dean said. And it was. He wondered how Cas had known about it. “What’re we here for?”

Castiel turned his attention from the lake, his hazy eyes fixed on Dean. He stepped toward Dean, pushing him back onto the hood of the Impala.

Dean scooted on top, wrapping his legs around the back of Cas’ own to pull him closer. “You bring me to a make-out spot, sweetheart?”

Cas crushed his lips to Dean’s without warning, kissing him fast and deep and leaving him totally breathless.

“You’re beautiful,” Cas murmured, his lips not quite parted from Dean’s. “All of you. You’re beautiful.”

Dean felt like the air was knocked from his lungs. He pushed himself further back onto the hood, pulling Cas with him. He planted gentle kisses on his angel’s cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, his mouth. For eight months, they’d been making up for lost time, but Dean knew he’d never grow tired of the weight of Castiel above him; the taste of his skin or the feel of his lips. He’d never get enough of the tiny hitch of breath each time Dean’s lips found Cas’ neck.

“This your way of tellin’ me I got specs-appeal?”

“Stop. Talking.” Cas growled.

“I love you so damn much,” Dean whispered against Cas’ skin, bathed in the dying light of the day.

Castiel had fallen from grace in every way imaginable for Dean, until there was hardly a spark of it left in his veins. From the moment he’d gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition, Dean had been falling ever since. Dean fell and fell, and sure, half the time he’d been stumbling blindly, drunkenly, trying to claw his way back up with broken nails and bleeding fingertips, but his descent into his love for the angel was never ending.

Somewhere along the way, he’d accepted that. He’d enjoyed it in the quiet moments; a small smile to himself alone in his room, a twinkle in his eye seeing the angel at the breakfast table, a photograph held to his heart before every hunt. For years his love had been a shameful, secret thing.

Eventually, finally, he’d embraced it. And now that he had, he discovered that those impossible celestial hands that had once built him from the ground up were right there to steady him. Through every kiss, every hunt, every time they almost lost each other again and again, every sleepless night and every long drive with Cas’ hand resting atop his on the gearstick. He felt only pride for his love for Cas. There were no more secrets, only truth.

Dean was still falling, but Cas – the angel had never flown higher.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Read on ao3

#jactingjoices1k #sana this is super rushed but i hope it’s okay :’)#if you don’t already follow sana you are missing out I tell u 💕#destiel #deancas #fluff #fanfic #destiel fic #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #ao3fallenangelofthursday #my writing

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reblogging4thewin · 3 years

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This is How I Held You

for @jactingjoices follower celebration day 3 prompt "trust me."

Read on AO3

“Trust me.”

That had never worked out well for Dean before. Anytime someone told him to trust them, the results were inevitably bad, even with good intentions.

Now, however, with Chuck out of the picture, and their feelings out in the open, Dean was feeling optimistic.

He turned to Cas, nervous to even look away from the edge lest he fall off.

Cas had zapped Dean to the Grand Canyon. Dean had been willing to risk a week of constipation for this. Driving and road tripping are great, but letting himself do things with Cas, get your mind out of the gutter, Dean, had made Dean kind of a yes-man with him. He wanted to do everything he could to make Cas happy, because making Cas happy made him happy.

Cas had suggested the Grand Canyon because of movies they’d watched – visiting it seemed like something that would make Dean happy. He wasn’t wrong – although the vastness and depth did make Dean nervous.

After staring at the view, which really was beautiful, Cas had suggested they fly through it. The park was closed, so no one would see them, but Dean was more concerned about having a heart attack.

“Is this because of that movie you watched with Jack?”

“What movie?” Cas asked innocently.

“You know;” Dean gestured pointedly. “The one with the bird who learned to fly to find his family.”

“Oh, Paulie?” Cas looked sheepish, because Paullie actually was where he got the idea to fly through the Grand Canyon. “Maybe a little.”

Dean smiled fondly. Cas’ shy little smile gets to him, like most of Cas’ expressions do.

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him into a kiss, intense despite its softness. Cas is the one who eventually broke the kiss, and Dean rested his forehead on Cas’.

“So, do you trust me?”

“Always.”

Cas backed up and suddenly was behind Dean. He leaned up and planted a soft kiss on Dean’s neck before wrapping his arms around Dean, gripping him tight.

“This is how I held you.” Cas whispered into Dean’s ear.

Dean shivered pleasantly.

Cas nuzzled Dean’s neck. “I flew you safely out of hell like this, so I can carry you anywhere safely like this. Including through the Grand Canyon.”

Dean relaxed into Cas’ warm grip, and the next thing he knew they were in the air, gliding down between the canyon walls. Dean fought the urge to shut his eyes. The warmth of Cas against his back and the strength of his hold soothed Dean, and he drew strength from that. It helped him be brave enough to look.

And it was a truly breathtaking sight.

Cas probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him well over the rush of air, so he went with prayer instead.

I love you.

Dean could feel warmth radiating from Cas in response as they banked upwards in the pink light of the sunset.

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blue-eyed-cutiepatootie · 3 years

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💜 for @jactingjoices 1k follower celebration 💜

Jack helped scoop out the seeds and he drew the face on in marker (Cas let him use a permanent marker!) and he supervised Dean as he cut along the lines 💜

*click for better quality*

#congrats my friend!#blueecp art #kid!jack #dadstiel #dad!dean #jactingjoices1k #userpris

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gaytedlasso · 3 years

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Thinking of you;

how your eyes shine in the neon glow,

as your hands gently brushed my jaw.

But now... all alone.

Nothing left of you but memories,

these pens you gave me,

your songs looping in my mind.

All I want. Is someone

to hold. to love. to care.

someone who will never have to leave.

As if I deserve that.

Empty motel room and emptier bottle

have shown me, that's something I know

I can't have.

Pages from Dean's Sketchbook (2002 - the Lee year)

for my beloved @jactingjoices 1k celebration

prompt: longing. closure.

#no idea if this is when he knew Lee but I imagine it is #Stanford era Dean #old enough to take risks and young enough to not let himself be stopped by repression #he's always felt physical lust but never affection #until now #and with the world making it too hard for them to stay together #maybe even John finding out #they had to break #leaving Dean in pieces he puts back together on the page #closure in the sense that there is none really #told you it was angsty Sana!#i loved drawing this #and yes that is a confession parallel!#his face needs some more work I think but he's a hard one to figure out lol #both soft and sharp at once #but did some new techniques with the textures #jactingjoices1k #a gift for you #dean/lee #spn art #spn fanart #Dean's sketchbook #artist dean #huckleberry art #spn poetry #my poetry #rambleoncas #creativecaviar #bi dean #iamnotmereally

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buckleydiazmp4 · 3 years

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for @jactingjoices' follower celebration!

day 3: longing

Whenever there's a small space between fights, a rare patch of time in which they're not trying to save the world, that's when Cas allows himself to long.

He knows the longing never leaves, the desire to get closer is always simmering, pushing and pulling on his heartstrings. But whenever there's fighting and running and hiding, adrenaline and fear always take over, enough to stop the yearning from spilling all over the place and ruin everything.

So when the silence hits him, almost eerily, the numbness of his heart melts down. The bunker is deafeningly quiet. There's no sounds of gun practice, or clicking of laptop keyboards. No heavy books thumping on tables, or Dean's vinyls playing loudly from the kitchen or the garage. When he exists in that liminal space, he remembers heaven, the quietness of it, the loneliness.

He doesn't like to relive the way he was back then, the way he had no freedom, the way he knew nothing beyond duty. So, to fill up the quietness, he stands next to Dean's bedroom door, and listens to the steady rythm of his heartbeat. It reminds him that he's alive, that they all are.

He sits down on the floor after a while, closes his eyes, and lets a steady wave of want wash through him, familiar but still unsettling. He pictures his handprint, painted an angry red on Dean's skin, and wishes he could put his real hand on top of it. He imagines on detail, the way it would cover the mark perfectly inch by inch.

He knows, in theory, that the mark is supposed to mean ownership, and connection. But he also knows Dean and him are very far from that. He doesn't even want to own him. Dean Winchester cannot be owned by anyone, that's certain. But he does want them to belong to each other. He wants to join his soul to Dean, thread by thread. He longs for it so much that he feels like his heart physically aches.

And sometimes he thinks he can feel Dean's soul, bright and burning, reaching out to him. But Dean's never said anything, nor has he done anything that might help Cas keep building the little hope he has.

So Cas is silent, and as careful as he can be. He never looks for too long, never touches if he's not allowed, tries not to overstep, to bury the words somewhere far and dark. He thinks it's worked so far, but sometimes it's infuriating, to not be able to do something. His hands itch to wipe tears from Dean's face, to hold him in his arms when he feels defeated, to grab his hand across the impala's front seat, on the few occasions he's been able to sit there.

Once his thoughts have dimmed, and returned to the distant hum they are in his mind, he lets himself focus on Dean's breathing, letting it soothe him for the rest of the night. He leaves before Dean wakes up, his chest returning to its heaviness once more, and goes back to focusing on apocalypses and monsters and an absent God.

#jactingjoices1k #sara writes #destiel #destiel fic #creativecaviar #plantdadcas #offbeattraxx

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

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for day two of @jactingjoices followers celebration: “it just happened”

It takes precisely eight hours, twelve minutes, and forty-three seconds for shit to hit the fan.

That’s exactly how long it’s been since Cas left the apartment to go visit the natural museum’s new exhibit with the rest of his cohort from the archeology master’s program and, instead of saying “See you later!” or “Have a great time!” like a normal roommate would, Dean went in for a kiss.

Well, that’s not quite it.

He actually kissed Cas. Full on the mouth. In the doorway.

Those eight hours, twelve minutes, and forty-three seconds have been the worst. While there's no indication that Cas wants him to move to another country, Dean’s been thinking about it. The only problem is that he doesn’t have a passport.

But no, Cas’s cheeks just turned pink and he stuttered out a, “See you this afternoon,” and then at noon Dean gets a text from him saying he probably wouldn't be back at the apartment until dinnertime. Dean considers clearing out but decides to stick around and order pizza for dinner.

Cas arrives before the large pepperoni pizza with onions, dropping his keys on the floor and uttering a swear word. Dean vigorously pretends to have no idea he’s back, despite the face that Dean is very much sitting in the living room, also pretending to read a book.Cas deposits himself onto the couch next to Dean and then takes his book and shuts it.

“Hey, I was reading that!”

“No you weren’t. That’s one of my textbooks.” Cas is right. The cover reads Human Adaptability: An Introduction to Ecological Anthropology.

Funnily enough, Dean hadn’t noticed.

“Why?” Cas asks.

“Why what?”

“You know.”

Here’s the inevitable eight hours, twelve minutes, and forty-three seconds later. Dean sighs, and then he sighs again, and then he stares at their blank, powered-off television. “Dunno. It just happened.”

“That doesn’t just happen.” Cas emphasizes his words with air quotes.

Well, Dean’s already kissed him. He might as well go all out before he has to start searching for a new apartment and boxes to cram all his crap into.

“Fine.” He’s not going to look at Cas, though. “I wanted to kiss you. Have for a while. So I did. Happy?”

“You sound angry about it.”

“Uh, yeah?” Dean sneaks a glance at his roommate. Cas looks...confused? “Are you...not angry about it?”

“Why are you angry about it?” Cas asks.

“Why are you angry?”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” Oh.

“It was nice.” Cas clears his throat. “But now you’re being...confusing.”

“Well, I’m not confused.” Confidence (miraculously) restored, Dean decides to try again, properly, and he seizes Cas by the front of his University of Illinois-Chicago hoodie and pulls him and--

The doorbell rings.

It’s the pizza guy.

Dean reluctantly lets go of Cas and clambers off the couch. He slips the pizza guy a twenty in exchange for their dinner, and then shuts the door, turning to face Cas, who followed him. “I got pepperoni and--”

He never finishes his sentence.

(And the pizza gets cold.)

#jactingjoices1k #offbeatwrites #yes this concept has been done a million times but more cakes #or in this case #more pizzas!#cheesy writer is cheesy <3

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