14 Works in Tooth Rotting Destiel Fluff
Listing Works
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“I fell in love…” The man says slowly. He stops talking, but it looks like the sentence isn’t over.
“Falling in love isn’t a sin,” Castiel’s eyebrows furrow.
“I fell in love with a man,” He says.
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“Cas,” he yells from a few feet away. Dean waits till he’s face-to-face with Cas before continuing, “Once upon a time you told me if I wanted somethin', all I had to do was ask. That still true?”
After the final showdown in Stull Cemetery, things go a little differently.
inspired by this tumblr post
Series
- Part 3 of this is gospel
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Castiel gets hit by a witch's spell on a hunt— a curse that compels him to speak the truth. To keep his deepest secret unsaid, all he has to do is remain silent and avoid Dean.
That should be easy, right?
Series
- Part 2 of Thisisapaige's Suptober21 Collection
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He stumbled down the creaky stairs and into the hall to find the front door wide open, and Cas standing there in a plaid pajama set with bare feet and fucking bedhead.
Just standing there with a mug of coffee in one hand and a hammer in the other. With the sun backlighting him like a freaking movie. It was too early to look at Cas like this.
"Cas," Dean said, and Cas looked at him and his face lit up. Lit up like Dean was a stack of PB&J's and not a grumpy mess of a hunter with a bum knee and abandonment issues.
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Green Grass and Blooms by jemariel for elanor_n_evermind
Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005)
11 Apr 2021
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Just an ordinary Friday afternoon in spring.
Maybe the future won't be so bad after all.
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the secrets that you keep (when you're talking in your sleep) by resurrectdead
Fandoms: Supernatural
14 Mar 2021
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"Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long
And wouldn't it be nice to live together in the kind of world where we belong?"Or: Dean finds a crate of forgotten records in the bunker, Sam explains the theme of marriage in 60’s love songs, and Castiel considers his options.
Series
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Castiel once spends three days reading greedily across an entire reference shelf in the library. He reads the volumes from right to left, Kevin from left to right. Sam grins at them both. Dean mutters something about nerd multiplication and continues to play something on his phone. But he’s also the one who leaves cups of coffee at their elbows.
(Kevin gives up first, and declares Castiel the winner. Castiel wasn’t aware that it was a contest, and somehow that makes it more satisfying.)
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It's three months after Castiel was brought back from the Empty after confessing his love to Dean, and things are awkward between them. They haven't talked about it. Castiel can feel how much Dean wants to, but he won't let himself, and Castiel can only wait. But one night, with Castiel halfway across the world, he gets a text from Dean that might change everything - even if Dean didn't quite mean it to.
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Sleep is a precious commodity among hunters and former Angels of the Lord, but for such a simple concept, all of the ways it can go wrong are multitude and complex. Sometimes the simplest solutions--a weighted blanket--work the best.
Castiel and Dean are certain to find ways to make it more complicated.
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The angels have fallen, Heaven is broken, Castiel burns through a grace that isn't his own. Everything seems hopeless, but Dean is determined to help his homesick, heartbroken angel and give him a home on Earth.
Week 8 of the SPN Stay At Home Challenge. Prompt: Hope
Series
- Part 3 of SPN Stay At Home Challenge
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based on my tumblr post: Cas speaking other languages in bed is fun and all until Dean stops in the middle of sex to look up what Cas is saying in a dictionary
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Following the events of 12.12, Dean wakes up from a nightmare shouting Cas's name. Which works out well, since Cas can't sleep or relax either after everything that went on. Dean introduces Cas to some of the healthier coping mechanisms he knows.
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Cas brings things home, magpie-like, every time he goes out. Sometimes they’re for Sam, sometimes he keeps them for himself - but most often, he gives them to Dean. Maybe it’s a shiny pebble, or a flower, or a crinkled-up photograph of strangers. Or a pen, or a feather, or a pair of broken glasses.
Dean keeps them all, arranging them neatly on every surface in his room. The flowers he hangs on a string on a wall, so that they’ll dry. They make his room smell faintly of rose petals, which he likes without saying so.
Cas isn’t doing it to be cute. He doesn’t blush or flutter his lashes when he pushes a gift across the table or places it in Dean’s upturned palm. He only looks serious - perhaps tilts up a slight smile. Dean’s the one who’s bashful, still stumbling stupidly over his thanks, even weeks after this began.
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Castiel, blind from an accident when he was six, usually spends his Thursday afternoons the same way. He orders cinnamon coffee and the special of the day from a bakery run by a man who smells like leather and motor oil, and he may or may not be a little in love.