merry destiel

soul mate au where the most important thing your soul mate will ever say to you is written on your wrist

Yeah sure we can go for the obvious like “I love you” or “I will miss you” but what about real weird stuff like “Please accept the change, sir” or “Please play on, your music is lovely”. Then there is the straight up nasty stuff like “I promise I won’t kill you”

Feel free to add on

  • <p> <b>People:</b> Stop forcing your favourite fictional characters to be gay even when they're not!<p/><b>Me:</b> lol sorry but it's not my fault if they're all little cinnamon rolls too pure and too gay for this world, they are all sO PERFECT TOGETHER<p/><b>People:</b> But they're not all gay!<p/><b>Me:</b> You're right<p/><b>People:</b> <p/><b>Me:</b> There are alsO BISEXUALS<p/></p>
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Merry Christmas! may visions of profound-bonds visit your dreams tonight

(that’s a picture of the Grand Canyon hanging on the wall back there (◡‿◡✿))

Castiel’s palms are sweating so profusely, he’s ninety-five percent sure he’s going to sweat through his mittens and the wrapped gifts they’re clutching. He watches with wide eyes and a racing heart as Dean rings the doorbell and walks inside, tugging him along by his coat sleeve.

“What if they hate me?”

“Won’t happen.”

“Mom? Dad? We’re home!”

“Dean—”

“Cas.”

“Unca Dean!”

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Serendipity

a very happy holiday season to you all! if you prefer, read it here on AO3 <3

Castiel gripped his coat harder, feeling its familiar softness under his fingertips.

Really, if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t much. Well-made, to be sure; all of the costumes at the Lyceum Theater had been. But it didn’t glitter, or so he’d been told; it wasn’t beautiful.

Then again, Cas reminded himself, not all that glittered was gold - and some things that were gold did not glitter.

He reached out a seeking hand, located his mouse, and ran it over the eBay page that he’d opened up over an hour before. His software read out the details to him: Tan ‘Angels’ Trenchcoat. Replica. $70.

Sitting back in his chair, Cas pushed both of his hands back into the coat. He furrowed his brow, and for a moment, memories overtook him in a soft wave: memories of being dressed in this coat, standing giddy and restless, waiting in the wings to go onstage at the Lyceum; memories of standing in front of a roaring crowd, hearing them stamp and clap their appreciation all the louder because they knew he could not see it; memories of his friends in the backstage crew helping him out of the coat after the show, clapping him on the back, asking him to go for drinks - memories of one particular stage grip’s laugh, the smell of his cologne -

Most of all, the pervasive underlying feeling of sheer luck. the pure and incredible luck of finding a stage show willing to hire a young, blind, inexperienced actor in the lead role. The luck of the show gaining a cult following. The luck of having been there, in that place, with the scent of stage dust in his nose and the thrum of a thousand people’s indrawn breaths as he stood, alone, on the boards before them…

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Merry Christmas to all Destiel shippers out there, I love you all! ❄

“Come on, Cas… I’ve got something to show you.”

Dean impatiently pulls Castiel along, leading him through the halls of the bunker, afraid that he’ll chicken out if he doesn’t get this show on the road right now. It’s Christmas Eve, and neither of them are actually drunk, but they are both pleasantly buzzed. Truth be told, there’s just enough alcohol in Dean’s system for him to not lose the courage to do what he’s been planning to do all day.

Their shoulders bump as they walk, Dean’s hand loosely grasping Castiel’s wrist. The angel doesn’t seem to mind, and Dean considers that a good start. He’s going to do this. He can do this. Because if he doesn’t do it now, he probably never will.

When they reach Dean’s room, Dean tugs his friend inside and firmly closes the door behind them. He sits on the edge of the bed, patting the empty space beside him to invite Cas to follow his example. Cas does, with a gentle smile and a hint of curiosity in those big blue eyes. God, Dean is such a sucker for those eyes; the look Cas gives him is going to make this either more difficult or -if Dean’s shitty luck takes a day off for once-, a bit easier.

Now that they’re both sitting here in their ugly Christmas sweaters (Donna had decided to knit one for everyone, and Sam had insisted that it would be rude not to wear them tonight), Dean realizes how utterly ridiculous his plan probably is. And this whole situation for that matter.

Yet, somewhere in some hidden corner of his being he gathers the strength to blurt out what he’d been dying to say all day.

“So yeah, Cas… About that other Christmas present that I mentioned earlier, the one I’d rather give you in private…” Dean clears his throat, stalling, deep down afraid of Castiel’s reaction.

But Cas’ eyes light up as he clearly remembers that promise, and it encourages Dean to keep going.

“I just… It’s something I kinda wanted to give you for a long time, but you can totally say no if it’s… if it’s not something you want.”

Cas looks confused now, and Dean’s voice fails to offer any more words. And so Dean points to the ceiling, hoping that the message will come across without him having to say it out loud. To let Cas know what he wants, Dean Winchester style.

Playing along immediately, Castiel tilts his head and follows Dean gaze, slowly blinking at the mistletoe that’s hanging right over their heads, there were Dean had put it up earlier that day when he’d come up with plan ’finally-confess-those-feelings-to-Cas’.

There’s a long silence, during which Dean feels his heart sink to his stomach, afraid that he ruined everything. And on freaking Christmas Eve, nonetheless. Stupid, stupid Dean.

But then he feels a warm hand on the side of his neck. And another one on his knee. And the second he actually lowers his gaze to look at Cas, soft lips are already crashing into Dean’s with so much eagerness that it instantly makes Dean giddy. He kisses back without a second thought, pulling Cas as close as physically possible. When they’re both out of breath they slow down, taking turns, pressing butterfly kisses to each other’s lips. After a while, they’re just resting their foreheads together, neither of them talking.

Dean’s thankful for the not talking part. He prefers actions, and he’s glad that Cas gets it. The two of them have a special way of talking, one that they can both understand without saying a word.

The only words that Cas gives him are “Merry Christmas, Dean”, and Dean enthusiastically says them back.

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Dean & Castiel “What’s a soulmate?” - my edit

It’s almost Christmas so here’s my gift for @hannahruth990 and @frecklesandfeathers and @godshipsit