#destielmonth21

[uncensored-alchemy]

My headcanon of Dean and Cas reuniting in heaven. 💙💚

Made for @destielmonth, prompt “Y yo a ti, Cas”, and of course also in celebration of Destiel Day!

[destielmonth]

Prompts for Destiel Month 2021 are now OUT! And PROUD of it!

November 1st will kick off the month in celebration of Castiel's confession to Dean in 15.18: Despair. Each prompt will be up to interpretation and there are no minimum requirements. 

Quick Rules:

Choose 1 or 2 prompts a day to inspire artwork, fanfic, edits, etc. (You do not have to complete a prompt for all 30 days.)

Do not post until the scheduled prompt date. (Late contributions will be accepted.)

Post your work to Tumblr, Twitter or AO3 by doing the following...

How to Participate -

On TUMBLR or TWITTER: Post your piece or link to your piece using the tag #destielmonth or #destielmonth21 OR mention us ( @destielmonth​ ) in your post

On AO3: Add your piece to the collection (Destiel Month 2021) when you create your work

RULES || FAQ || ASKS || TWITTER || CURIOUSCAT

Keep reading for a list view of our prompts and the dates they’re set on!

November 01: Fantasy AU & Gunpowder

November 02: Sports AU & Pet

November 03: 5 times + 1 time & Halo

November 04: Sharing A Bed & Scars

November 05: Domestic & Y Yo A Ti, Cas

November 06: Body Swap & Camping

November 07: POV Outsider & Pride

November 08: Sick Fic & Morning

November 09: Sex Pollen & Road Trip

November 10: Fluff & Whiskey

November 11: Hero/Villain & Garden

November 12: Time Travel & Cuddling

November 13: Single Parent & Lake

November 14: Historical AU & Empty

November 15: Enemies to Lovers & Gentle

November 16: Sam Knows & Feather

November 17: Merfolk & Amnesia

November 18: Human AU & Baby

November 19: Fix-It & Dancing

November 20: A/B/O & Flirting

November 21: Humor/Crack & Wings

November 22: Reincarnation & Freckles

November 23: Friends to Lovers & Music

November 24: Sci-Fi AU & Food

November 25: Coffee Shop AU & Holidays

November 26: Movie Night & Bunker

November 27: Murder Husbands & Tattoo

November 28: Couples Therapy & Karaoke

November 29: Royalty AU & Nightmare

November 30: Hurt/Comfort & Anniversary

[interrogatethecat]

if the heavens ever did speak

word count: 700

written for the @destielmonth prompt halo. the rest is on ao3 or below the cut!

Cas is lost in the rhythm of his fingers. It’s repetitive and calming, enveloping. He focuses on weaving the flowers around each other, careful not to crush their thin stems or delicate petals. He doesn’t hear the footsteps in the grass behind him.

He does hear when Dean asks, “Uh, Cas? What are you doing?”

Cas turns around to see Dean behind him.

“I’m making flower crowns,” he says. “It’s very relaxing.”

Dean doesn’t seem like he knows how to respond to that. “Uh….”

“Do you want to join me?” Cas asks.

There’s half a second where he hesitates before plopping down next to him.

Cas goes back to his weaving. He can feel Dean studying his fingers and their careful, measured movements.

“Where’d you learn this?” Dean breaks the peaceful silence they’ve fallen into.

“Jack,” Cas says. “Patience taught him the last time he was staying with the girls.” He grabs another flower from a pile next to him that he had made earlier.

“Sam used to know how to make these,” Dean tells him. “He was… what, ten or eleven? He picked a whole bunch of weeds from outside the motel to do it, when Dad saw he was pissed. Never saw the kid do it again.”

“Do you want to learn?” Cas offers.

Dean’s eyes dart up from his hands to his face. “Huh?”

“Here.” Cas hands the crown he’s working on to Dean, who fumbles a little trying to keep the stems in place.

“What?” Dean says. “Cas, sweetheart, I dunno how—“

Cas scoots so that he’s sitting behind Dean. He presses up against his back, wrapping his arms around him so that his hands are touching Dean’s.

“Not that I don’t like it,” Dean says, “but how is you getting close to me gonna help?”

Cas hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder. “Like this. Do you know how to braid?”

Dean tries twisting the stems around each other, but they fall apart easily. “Nope,” he decides.

“Take this stem,” Cas taps the sprig on the far right, “and pull it across—“ he helps Dean guide it to lay between the other two stems, “to the middle. Then take the one on the left and do the same thing.”

For the first few strands, Cas guides Dean’s fingers, but once his movements are more confident, he moves his arms to wrap comfortably around Dean’s middle. Every so often, he passes Dean another flower to add to the crown.

“This doesn’t look as good as when you do it,” Dean grumbles when he’s three quarters of the way done. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he frowns at the loose braid he’s made.

“You just have to practice,” Cas says.

“That’s just an excuse for more of your hippy flower weaving dates,” Dean says, lightly accusatory.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Cas says. “I’m always happy to spend time with you.”

The back of Dean’s neck and the tips of his ears turn pink. Cas smiles.

“Don’t think I don’t know that this is just you trying to make my dad roll in his grave,” Dean warns.

Cas decides not to answer.

“Cas.”

“… Maybe,” Cas admits.

Dean snorts and twists around in his lap to press a short kiss to his cheek before going back to the flowers in his hands.

They fall into a comfortable silence as Dean works. He still fumbles with the stems, but by the end of the crown, as Cas shows him how to keep it from coming undone, the motions are coming with more ease.

Dean surveys the crown he’s holding, not without pride. There are a few spots where the bright petals of the flowers don’t obscure the mess of stems behind them the right way, and it’s obvious where Cas handed it off, but it’s beautiful. He turns around to face him.

Dean drops the flower crown on Cas’ head, grinning. “There,” he says, “now you’ve got a halo.”

Cas doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s been years since he’s had a halo, of any sort.

Dean— he’s just—

Cas raises a hand and brushes it against the soft petals. An uncontrollable smile finds its way onto his face.

The smile stays there when he leans forward to capture Dean’s lips in a kiss.

He likes this halo much better than his old one.

tag list: @ccstiel @starrynightdeancas @floral-cas @castielsbeeslippers @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @fellshish @bestiarum @top13zepptraxx @linaraiscorner @theedorksinlove @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @dune-echo

let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

[blessyourhondahurley]

Sam Finally Figures It All Out

Destiel Month prompts: Sam knows / Feather Random word: pneumonia 

(Read on AO3)

It's not like Sam's been oblivious. There were the interminable staring contests. The constant subtle brushing of fingertips. The conversations with unmistakable deeper meanings. All of it intended as hidden. All of it visible from space. The odds it all meant nothing? Zero. The odds they themselves weren't aware? Those two clueless, repressed, lovesick idiots? Sam gave that bet 50/50.

Things became obvious after a hunt. Nothing special about the hunt itself. Afterwards, Sam's climbing into the backseat. (He's hoping for a little nap. It's been a long day.) The door's open, one leg's inside. Something's on the floor back here. He bends down to peer closer. A weird leaf? No, wait, it's a feather. He picks it up. Biggest damn feather he's ever seen. Black, lush, iridescent, eight inches easy.

“Shut the damn door, Sam. Don't wanna catch pneumonia today, thanks.”

“Check this out, dude.” He holds the feather out. He expects his brother to... He's not sure what he expects. Curiosity? Surprise? Bafflement? He sees none of those. What he sees is fondness. A tender, wistful expression. And love, love, love...

“Oh,” Dean says softly. “That's Cas's.”

In an instant, Sam understands everything. From here he has a choice. One: be supportive, circumspect, congratulatory. Two: bust his big brother's balls.

Option two it is.

“Now how did that get there?” His tone is over the top. So shocked, so confused, so curious. “When was Cas in the backseat? And he had his wings out? What was he doing back here? Were you back here, too?”

He can watch his words land. Dean's face goes slack, then red.

“You know?” he demands.

“I didn't. But now I do.” His words are dripping with smugness. “Now I know everything.”

“Bullshit,” Dean counters. “You know one thing. You wanna know something else? Wanna know what we did? Exactly what we got up to? Me 'n' him in the backseat? Wanna know who rode who? How many rounds we went? What kind of noises he makes? What he tastes like? Where he was sitting when I–”

Sam holds up a trembling hand. “Uncle!” he gasps. “I give, you win, shut up. Don't wanna hear any of that. I'm sorry I opened my mouth. Congratulations, mazel tov, dayenu. Super happy for you both. This conversation is over forever.” The back door slams. Sam climbs into the passenger seat.

“Thought you wanted a nap, bitch?” Dean smirks, starts the car.

“Screw you, jerk. I'm never sitting back there again. God knows what's on that seat.”

“Oh, we've fucked up here, too.”

Dean's laughing too hard to drive. Sam thinks he might throw up.

[reblogging4thewin]

Go to Therapy

Rating: T | 5.3k words | Destiel

Dean has been having some nightmares lately. When he is visited by his loved ones in his dreams, they have a clear message for him.

Written for @destielmonth Nov 29th prompt: Nightmare.

Angst, Crack treated seriously, Fluff, Dean has nightmares, Dean goes to therapy. See full list of tags on AO3.

Characters: Dean Winchester; Castiel; Mia Vallens; Mary Winchester; Bobby Singer; Charlie Bradbury; Mildred Baker; Emma Winchester; Benny Lafitte; Crowley; Kevin Tran; the Empty

Excerpt under the cut:

“Go to therapy.”  She raised her arms and faced the crowd.

He turned slowly to find the audience standing; their eyes all glowing in red or black.

“Go to therapy.  Go to therapy.”  They chanted in unison as they approached the stage.

Dean wanted to run, but he was rooted to the spot.

Suddenly, there was a cracking sound.  He looked down to see the stage splintering beneath him.

“Go to therapy.” They continued to chant as they got closer, now only a foot away.

Just as the first possessed patron reached the stage, the floor gave out and Dean fell through the stage, the crowd of black and red eyes looming from above.

-

Dean awoke with a start.  Once he got his breathing under control, and told Cas it was another hell nightmare, Dean tried to process the dream.  He wrote it off as a fluke brought on by what Sam and Eileen told him the other day.  They had started therapy and suggested that Dean should do it too.

Read on AO3

[howldean]

Oh, Baby.

Hands on the wheel. Key in the ignition. Rite of passage.

or, stanford era hunter cas drives the impala.

1.6k [link to ao3] for @destielmonth's day 18 prompts: human au + baby

[the first timestamp in the Juke Box Hero!verse, if anyone is counting]

Like a trip through the past, to that day in the rain.

“Hang in there, doll.”

Rain beat heavily on his back, drenching his clothes through every layer. It would be okay. It had to be. Dean had to be okay. He had to be.

Finding some kind of strength he didn’t know he had left in him, Cas hauled himself out of the grave, painstaking as mud slipped past his fingers, running more like a river, sludge resistant to any grip he could find. Visualizing some thick river of blood through the dampness in his eyes, like Dean might- He doubled down, graceless in his movements yet determined and he scrabbled for purchase. Some kind of ease would have come with full focus, but his eyes were fixed on the body laid slack against the gravestone. Water hitting his hair, drifting down over his eyelashes, streaked like tears down his cheeks only to hit that leather jacket. The security blanket protecting him from the big bad world, and at the moment, pneumonia, or whatever the hell Castiel was going to end up with. The freezing night air bit and snapped at him, daring to make his hands as numb as his nose.

“I’m bringing you home, Dean, don’t worry about it.” He breathed, more to himself as he finally rose to his knees. Dirt smeared on his cheek. Under his nails, across his arms and on his knees. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Crack. He laid a gentle hand on the side of his face, insides turning out as the sound reverberated through his mind, recalling the sight and sound of- Crack. Dean’s skull hitting the hard stone, seeing him go limp. In all his years hunting, Cas had never been more afraid than that he was in that moment. And that was silly, it was stupid he knew, Dean’s pulse still jumped beneath his skin.

He tried to focus. He had to focus. He trailed his fingers away, remembering the urgency that kept him from wiping the dirt from his freckles. An arm looped around the other hunter, only a year younger than Castiel himself, he rose unevenly to his feet. He glanced around through the thick sheets of rain, only seeming to get colder by the moment like the world had a vendetta against the principle of walking.

Taking steps was harder, Dean soundly unconscious against his arm a weight he would always carry even as his feet sank into the ground. Dryly - and by inverse, ironically - he wondered if hell was merely that eager to drag him in so early. “Okay. Okay.” Cas murmured against Dean’s ear. “Change of plans, hold tight.” He talked mostly to himself, easiest to think when he could hardly see the camping lamp up ahead. The only vague promise that there was a parking lot to the cemetery, a car hood that had a drenched lamp shining palely out. They just had to get there.

Castiel huffed, clinging to Dean in ways that conscious, he would never approve of. But he’d taken him out to dinner enough times that he figured he was the closest he would ever get to being entitled to carrying him like this. Bearing all of Dean’s weight, he bent and lifted until his thighs were held up by muddy palms, head hanging over Cas shoulder. He wondered when was the last time that Dean got carried like that? Steps light and playful instead of tumultuous and tired. The wind and rain raged against him. Tenderly, Castiel raged back.

He’d told him once, drunk and somber after a case with one too many preventable deaths. He’d dragged out a little box from the trunk and tossed him photos. Cas had taken them, handled each with care. For as many photos of Dean, there were easily twice as many of Sam. Stupid shit, mostly. Dean had said, showing him pictures with a chuckle, more nostalgic than he ever seemed to be.

Sam grinning at the camera, blood dripping from his lip as he showed off a loose tooth now held up between his thumb and forefinger, age 8. Sam scowling, looking up from homework, age 15. Sam held up on Dean’s hip, clearly telling a long-winded story as Dean tried to tell him to look at the camera while smiling as it counted down, ages 6 and 10. Arms around each other’s shoulders, 13 and 17. Countless little things. A stack of postcards and a second, smaller stack.

Cas wondered how much Dean would mind, hitting the gravel away from his thoughts, hands bunched in the hunter’s flannel. How much he would laugh it off, or shoot him a glare. How soon he’d get a message saying there was another hunt, or how long it would take for him to respond to Cas’.  Ultimately unimportant. Castiel didn’t understand the hoops that Dean made himself jump through. Well, no, actually, he did. It had simply been a long time since life was a circus act. Shuffling over the slick gravel with a wet crunch, he smiled.

Baby.

“Here we are. We’ve got it. I’ve got you, Dean.” He promised quietly, one arm gripping at the meat of his ass as the other went rooting for the silver bullet that dangled off of the keys. Finding them, he unlocked it. Her. It took some configuring, quick exchanges and dumping Dean in the passenger side a little more carelessly than he’d’ve liked to, but Cas was jogging around and locking the pair of them securely into the vehicle with a sigh. Okay. Okay.

He shut his eyes for the first moment since it’d all gone wrong. He breathed. He opened his eyes. Hands rested on the wheel. Gaze drifted to Dean, slanted over the seats, head inevitably resting on his shoulder. Safe.

Mud smeared across the vinyl and Castiel grinned. Dean was gonna kill him. He probably would have rather laid there in the rain, catching fuck knows what if it meant not fucking with the interior like this. Unfortunately for him, Cas was the one who wasn’t passed out and likely concussed at the moment, so he called the shots. Meaning that Dean was gonna kill him for this, too.

Hands on the wheel. Key in the ignition. Rite of passage.

One more glance to Dean. He wasn’t coming to any time soon.

The impala came to life under his hands. Surrounding him.

Oh.

Oh.

Slow and wicked, a private smile teased his lips. “Okay old girl,” He whispered, just between the two of them. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Minutes later, Cas found himself in silent negotiation with the car. Eyes on the road. Eyes on Dean. Eyes on Baby. Never a particular fan of manuals, the impala left no room for debate, just the requirement for extra attentive driving. He knew her. Peripherally. In the same way that he would listen to facts about a friend of a friend, he knew her stats, knew a lot about her. Dean always said it with a grin.

“I’m tellin’ you, muscle like Baby? Get behind that wheel and she’s just gotta go. Ain’t no room for hesitation.”

He loosened his shoulders and drove.

“Home. I mean, she’s like home, really. When we were younger, you know how it is, we’d pile up in the back seat. Laid back head to toe. Feet kicking each other’s shoulders ‘cause we were petty lil sons of bitches. Got a lot of good night’s sleeps in this girl.”

It was an honor. It was always unspoken, really. The first time Dean told him to leave his janky-ass truck at the motel and just hop in with him. The I trust you to drive me home if something happens was implied. Like a code of conduct, terms and conditions no one ever read aloud but understood. My life is safe in your hands.

Hands on his life.

Hands on the wheel.

This car was Dean’s home, strange enough. Cas didn’t understand it. Didn’t have to understand it. But he felt the comfort in the rumble she made just the same as any hearth or fireplace. This piece of his heart, living and breathing in gasoline and chrome. Dean didn’t see it. Didn’t let himself see it. No matter how many miles down the road there was a chance to give her a wax, get under the hood. He didn’t talk much about family, talked a lot about this car, though.

Some family.

Head on his shoulder, Castiel looked over. In a little while, past a bend in the road he’d shake him awake. Piss him off with a rambled list of questions on symptoms just to get a feel for how bad of a shape he was in. Force him back to sleep but leave whatever cassette he’d pop in playing low. They’d get back to the motel and collapse into their respective beds moments after toeing their boots off. Breakfast would be greasy, after long and hot showers, at that little diner they passed on the way in.

And maybe, maybe halfway through a laugh or a bite of bacon with that same grin, his phone would ring. The voice on the other end John Winchester. And Dean would vanish. Father’s son replacing him with a “Yes, sir. ”

For now, though. For now, Cas kept an eye on the dark road as the rain started to ease up, turned his head just enough to press a self-indulgent kiss to his temple. A sigh.

“That’s our secret, got it, girl?” He breathed out, lovesick to the purr of the impala.

[emeraldinspn-world]

Destielmonth21 Day 26: Movie Night || Bunker

[nickelkeep]

i need you to hold me tonight

Pairing: Dean/Cas Rating: Gen/Teen Word Count: 606 Warnings: Dean has a nightmare Written For: the Destiel Anniversary and @destielmonth Day 5 On Ao3

Why does this sound like a goodbye?

Because it is. I love you.

Don’t do this, Cas. Cas…

Goodbye, Dean.

...

Dean shot up in a cold sweat, shaking and shivering from the nightmare that plagued him. Taking a deep breath, he reached over to the other side of the bed, calming slightly as his hand came to rest on a firm, warm shoulder.

“Dean?” The bed shifted slightly as Cas rolled over, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Dean, are you alright?”

“No.”

Within moments, Dean found himself wrapped in Cas’ arms, embraced tightly. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, his voice soft. “It was... “ He wanted to tell Cas what the dream was, but it hurt too much. Instead, he shook his head. “Yeah.”

“Dean, I’m here.” Cas cupped Dean’s cheek in his hand, gently tracing his thumb along the soft skin. “You got me back.”

A sob involuntarily escaped from Dean’s lips. “I know.”

“And I have no plans of ever leaving you again.”

“I know.”

“You don’t sound convinced.” Cas shifted slightly and pulled Dean in closer. He pressed a soft kiss against Dean’s forehead. “What do I need to do to prove it?”

“You don’t need to prove it, Sunshine. I promise. You said you’re not goin’ anywhere, and I believe you.” Dean rested his head in the crook of Cas’ neck, breathing in the faint scents of body wash and ozone. “I dreamed of that day… I think it’s been a year.”

Cas nodded. “It has.”

“I don’t want to remember the day I lost you, Cas.” Dean pulled back, searching for his angel’s eyes in the dark of their room. “I thought I lost you forever. I wasn’t… I couldn’t.…”

“Hey.” Cas flipped on one of their lamps before returning to Dean. He hooked Dean’s chin, and Dean felt a shiver go down his spine as Cas’ blue eyes bored into his soul. “I won’t lie. I thought it was forever as well. But you needed to survive. You needed to save the world.”

“But I needed you,” Dean replied, quietly. Even softer, “I still need you, Cas.”

“I know. And I’m not going anywhere.” Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s. “You saved me, Dean. And even when I thought it wasn’t possible, you loved me too.”

Dean huffed out a small laugh. “Love, Cas. While I’ve always loved you, I will continue to love you.” He swallowed down the remaining hints of fear from his nightmare and climbed into Cas’ lap, hugging him tightly. “I was so angry with you, Cas. You got to tell me how much you loved me. I didn’t think it was possible, you know? I knew we had our bond, and I knew that I loved you. But I didn’t think that angels were capable of love like that. When you said it? My mind couldn’t process it; I couldn’t respond.” Dean choked up. “The least you deserved was to hear me say it back, but I couldn’t…”

Cas interrupted Dean with a chaste kiss. “And I will remind you again that you didn’t need to say it. You still don’t.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, a smile playing across his lips. “Although, I enjoy hearing it when you do say it.”

“Again, you deserve to hear it.” He paused. “I love you, Cas.” Dean smiled as he rested his arms on Cas’ shoulders, his fingers instantly entangling in the thick brown locks. “I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“As do I, Dean.” Cas pulled Dean down and captured his lips in a deep kiss. “As do I.”