when he caresses his hair

Sleep Well

Cullen Rutherford X Demetra Trevelyan
Beware: wild fluff after this point

He sighed happily in his sleep and she had to restrain a chuckle, gently passing her fingers through his hair as she had done in the last minutes. Cullen could protest as loudly as he pleased when he was awake, but the truth was that he slept better when she caressed his hair.
Not that he didn’t like to have it touched by her during the day too, but he was ashamed if others were present, for he couldn’t restrain his pleased humming. And oftern others were always present, since for the Inquisitor and her Commander obtaining some privacy would request months of scheduling.
She traced paths with her fingers, from his nape to his temple, enjoying to feel his body heavily laying on the bed, his head on her lap.
Demetra bent slightly, kissing his forehead.
The dark circles under his eyes spoke about sleepless nights, and the stubble a bit longer than usual meant his hands hadn’t been steady enough to shave him properly. She pushed aside her worries, knowing he didn’t suffer from a withdrawal - or Cassandra would tell her, as she requested exspressly before leaving Skyhold for the Forbidden Oasis.
More probably, Cullen had pushed himself too much, working a lot, taking care of himself a little.
With her free hand, she framed gently his face, tenderly studying his features. In the occasions in which he was so peaceful during his sleep, he seemed younger. He resembled more the man she had learnt to love than the Commander who intimidated her at the very beginning, before starting to look beyond his frown and his personal shields. The wrinkles near his eyes almost disappeared, his jaw relaxed, his mouth slightly open.

He should laugh more, she thought pushing away from his face a rebel curl. He did laugh when they were together, though, but she just wished for him to have more and more occasions to do that. 
Demetra wanted for him to be safe and happy and free to laugh when he wanted to. To play chess more often and maybe adopt a Mabari - even if he would scoff at her that Mabari couldn’t be adopted, because of the bond.
To visit his family and find out he could still be part of it, because it was clear they loved him very much - his correspondence with Mia was more regular now, and the other two siblings had started to acclude notes for him. They seemed nice people who were sincerly happy to have him back in their lives.
To spend his free time reading all the books he wanted to, but didn’t have enough time for - except for the time he stole from what was meant to be time for food or sleep. But she did the same, so she couldn’t blame him.

She looked up at the night sky, the moon high there smiling back at her. It was really too late to be awake, and Demetra suppressed a yawn. Still five minutes, she said firmly to herself, knowing that probably she was going to look at him for a bit longer than that. Maybe it was a creepy or a weird thing to do. She wasn’t sure and she hadn’t dared to ask anybody for an opinion. It was truly too personal for sharing around, even during the quiet chats she and Cassandra had around the fire, in the camp, during their watch.
But Demetra did like looking at him in his sleep, and daydreaming a bit. Their relationship was fairly new, Maker, they started to sleep together just a few weeks before and she hadn’t imagined she would have loved seeing Cullen in such a private situation. Well, she hadn’t imagined a lot of things she would have liked about him and private situations. She silently laugh to herself, sensing her cheeks blushing. 
He sighed happily again, leaning against her soft belly, pressing himself closer to her.
She continued to caress his head gently, marvelling how soft his hair actually was, knowing the faint scent of the lotion he - abundantly - used to tame his curls would probably stick in her own fingers.
She smiled.
She was okay with that. More than okay.

Castiel can feel it.

Every atom in his body begins to prickle when two large pair of arms loom around his body, squishing him close until the air is completely sucked out of his lungs and his breathing hitches unbiddenly. His lips twitch when he senses strands of hair caressing his stubble, and his mouth falls involuntarily wide open when fingers urgently grab onto his edge of his flannel.

This is different, alien – but it feels so god damn nice that he doesn’t know how to properly react to the new sensation washing over him; the feeling of safety and warmth boiling into the pit of his stomach, a shiver running up his spine when Sam, slightly taller than him, places his chin on top of Castiel’s head and mumbles something incoherent. Cas can’t exactly make out what… but with how serene and low the human’s tone sounded as he spoke words into Castiel’s hair, partially in a whisper, he can tell that it was something as close as a compliment. Endearments. Something of import. Or a statement perhaps.

Something such as we’re glad you’re here.

When the angel realizes that nothing but pure love and tenderness radiates off of the sudden intimacy that can do absolutely no harm to anybody, Castiel falters a second or three before he slants back into the firm embrace of the Winchesters and lets himself be gently smothered, Dean pushing cheek to cheek with him with a sigh of relief – like the hunter is genuinely happy that they’re finally together again, all three, through the many years of fighting alongside each other and all the sons o’ bitches they conquered, not a single one of them has achieved the ultimate goal of separating them somehow.

Castiel has never properly envisioned this scenario before… or maybe he has. Maybe he’s even dreamt of it.

Though this… this feels real.

“Welcome home, Cas.”

Sam Drake Headcanons
  • Sam loves caressing your hair. He loves when you rest your head on his chest and he keeps touching your hair until you fall asleep.
  • Sam loves when you both are on the sofa and you get on top of him to kiss him, while he puts his hands on your behind.
  • Sam loves how you play the piano. He loves to sit next to you, listening how you play and watching how your fingers slide carefully above the piano keys.
  • He admits he loves your breasts. He loves going behind you and grab your boobs carefully with his hands, massaging them and kissing your neck. He doesn’t matter what you are doing in that moment, he’ll do it anyway. 
  • He loves the fact his girl is much younger than him, as he can see her as someone to protect. You are his “little girl” and he loves so much your innocence and inexperience.