#dean man

[unicornioup]

hi!! how r u guys? its been a long time 🫣

a lot going on around here, and im trying to put everything in its place 💌✩°｡ --- take care, okay?!

like xx

[goldenispunk]

[skatinginfinitelywithyourmom]

Cas: i love you 🥺

Dean (especially) for the past few days on tumblr dot com:

[ID: a newscaster on TV, sitting at a desk and holding papers with both hands while looking at the viewer. The words “breaking news” are written in all caps on the screen behind him. End ID]

[kipkiphoorayy]

the king has returned

edit: since this kinda blew up please click for palestine <3

[strawlessandbraless]

Jensen Ackles saw this early script draft and made the choice that Dean would NOT make Cas feel bad for hugging him after the angel thought him dead

In fact, he let Dean be fully embraced by Cas, let him melt into the hug with a soft smile. Dean got to proudly Introduce his angel to Mary without shame or embarrassment, and that’s beautiful

[not-fitzwilliam-darcy]

I love that trope where the ex-lover and the to-be-lover are forced to get along like

[drulalovescas]

Castiel went from "You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in" to wearing a $1 cowboy hat and watching movies about guns and tuberculosis because that made his man happy and I have no choice but to stan

[thesunoficaruss]

to add on to my last post

[castiels-undercoat]

It will forever be funny to me that in season 13 when Cas comes back from the dead Dean goes from lashing out at everyone while hes in full downward spiral mode to suddenly being in the best mood possible, giggling and kicking his feet over cowboys and hes just like "what im not allowed to be happy or something? 🙄" like bro...🫵🤨 you're fucking gay

[billiewena]

thinking about how the only time bobby and cas interact in season four is when he knocks him out cold to talk to dean alone. and the next time bobby sees him, cas is powerless and just comes to steal dean's necklace in a weird interaction that had to be filmed close-up because dean and cas are just inches from each other's face. the next time is an offscreen interaction where he just gets dean's address from bobby and probably left immediately after. combine this with the fact that bobby knew dean had a male siren the season before (and tried to be supportive) and let cas be in the family photo a few episodes later, there is a nonzero chance bobby singer was the first destiel shipper.

[gleafer]

Me, using my god given talent to capture likenesses as a way to make as many fictional characters kiss as possible.

And no one can STOP ME! Mwahahahahahahahpower! POWER!

Excuse me a cruel chuckle! Power mmhmmhmmyes-Prince John, probably

[secretsoftheuniverse1987]

Thinking about how Dean Winchester was an atheist before he got caught up in the biblical apocalypse because in his mind, the two possible realities were an absent God and a cruel one. Thinking about him learning God was real and he had a Plan for him. Thinking about how that robbed him of his faith that a God wouldn't be capable of such cruelty. Thinking about how quickly he came to put his faith in Cas, despite his distrust of the divine. Thinking about The Man Who Would Be King. Thinking about Dean's only on-screen prayer to God being a plea to "bring him back."

[crookedmime]

A most holy man indeed.

[targaryenchester]

god gives the hardest battles to his strongest soldiers. (to Dean Winchester)

[vampiredaisiesss]

touch me — d.w. x reader

synopsis - you run your knuckles through the stubble littering his cheeks. your fingers travel upwards, thumb tracing his crow's feet. the lines on his face have deepened as he's grown older as has his hair gotten lighter. you find him all the more beautiful like this.

trigger warning - older dean winchester (early 40s) with younger reader (early 20s)

He thinks about time, about how it marks you, about how each silver strand falling to the floor is another reminder of all the years between the two of you.

The harsh glare of the bathroom light is unforgiving, casting every line on his face into sharp focus. Dean watches your reflection in the mirror. The gentle snip-snip echoes off the tile walls as you work the scissor over his hair, your lip caught between your teeth.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror from your shower, making the edges of your reflection soft, dream-like. Your tank top's damp where his hair falls against it, and there's something so domestic about this moment it makes his chest ache.

You hum "Hey Jude" while you work, because of course you know that's what Mary sang when she cut his hair. Of course you know that's what he sometimes hummed in his sleep whenever he'd have a nightmare.

"You're thinking too loud, again," you murmur, running your fingers through the short hairs at his nape.

"I've got shirts older than you," he says finally, the words tasting bitter on tongue.

You laugh out loud, and it sounds like every good thing he probably doesn't deserve. "And they're all flannel, and they all smell like gunpowder and cheap liquor that you probably spilled on them two decades ago, but never got dry-cleaned, and I love them." Your smile turns soft at the edges. "Just like I love the man wearing them."

"Kid—" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Don't 'kid' me, Dean Winchester. Not when you're balls deep inside me every night." You pause for just enough time to fix him a determined stare, and he offers you a small smile.

"You think I don't know who I'm choosing? You think I haven't counted every scar, every gray hair, every year you spent saving the world before I was old enough to know it needed saving?"

The scissor is forgotten on the countertop as you run your knuckles through the stubble littering his cheeks. Your fingers travel upwards, thumb tracing his crow's feet. The lines on his face have deepened as he's grown older as has his hair gotten lighter.

You find him all the more beautiful like this.

Dean's throat tightens. You're stripping him bare with your touch. "Exactly. You could have anyone. Someone who—"

He swallows hard, but he's smiling now. His chest feels heavier with something else. "When you say it like that, sounds like I should be in a museum, not your bed."

"Someone who what? Someone who hasn't survived forty years in hell? Someone who doesn't wake up reaching for a weapon? Someone who doesn't understand why I keep rock salt by the bed and devil's traps under the rugs?" You shake her head. "I don't want easy, Dean. I want you."

"There," you say finally, brushing loose hair from his neck. Your lips find that sensitive spot behind his ear, and he can feel you smile against his skin.

"Please," You chuckle. Your hands slide back into his hair, resuming cutting. "Museums are for looking, not touching. "And I'm very..." snip "...very..." snip "...fond of touching you."

"Touch me," he says, and it comes out like a prayer he never learned properly – rough and wanting and holy all at once. It curls around your heart in the shape of Dean's hand.

He reaches up, catches your hand before you can move away.

You touch him like you're reading braille, like every freckle on his body has a story to tell. Your lips trace constellations across the map of blue veins over his body. And when you finally put your lips on the scar along the side of his hip — the first ever souvenir he collected on his skin — you feel the smallest tremor in his breath. It’s so faint, but unmistakable, and for a moment, you could almost swear you made Dean Winchester mewl.

And you do.

[dreamsandcherrypie]

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME pls an thank ya