#touch starved dean

[virtu4l-archieve]

stand by me || whelvenwings

chapters: 15

tags: zombie apocalypse, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, sharing a bed, touch starved dean,

summary: after spending so much time alone during the zombie apocalypse, dean is left miserable and touch starved. dean is quick to want to spread his misery when he bumps into the first human he’s seen in a long time- castiel. despite their dislike for one another, dean and castiel decide to stick together for the sole purpose of not being alone. slowly their companionship grows to be a bit more personal than just someone to keep you from going insane.

i started this fic a while ago and honestly got consumed by life and responsibilities so this fic took a step back in my priorities. i did enjoy it. from what i remember? tbh i only had a chapter left post break. i remember reading it before bed and thinking the chapters were bite size enough that i wouldnt be too tired by the end. there arent a lot of zombie apocalypse fics tbh (big surprise!) so i took my chances with this one and it didn’t disappoint.

[strawlessandbraless]

Dean Winchester collecting strays & offering comfort through physical touch

[youchangedmedestiel]

Cas wasn't touch starved before, but he was once he knew how it felt to be touched by humans Dean.

[jasmines-library]

Hiii!! Firstly, I love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!! I was hoping to request a Winchester sibling fic where the reader is really comforted by physical touch but is really observant and receptive to the fact their brothers are emotionally constipated and touch starved so the reader has never really asked for it but then one day either just a bad day or bad hunt and the reader just asks the boys to hold them or one of them to sit in the back of the Impala with them? Thank you so so much and I hope you have a lovely day!! 🫶

So close, yet too far.

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Summary: You just really need a hug.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Touch Starved, character death mentioned, swearing

p.s. Sorry for the long wait! I've got exams at the moment so they're taking up a lot of my time.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

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Life as a hunter was never still. You were constantly moving. Constantly looking over your shoulder. Constantly chasing what could be your last day on earth. And you wouldn’t ever have said you regretted it. No. In fact, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Hunting creatures and saving the world? It was all You couldn’t have imagined a better life…

But sometimes you found yourself wanting life to just slow down for a minute. It was so hectic and you just needed a breath. A hug. With such a busy life, there was no time for just spending quality time with your brothers. Or anyone for that matter. It was an endless cycle: Wake up. Research. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. There was no time for sitting on the couch and watching cheesy movies together. Nor was there any time for curling up together like you used to do when you were smaller. You found yourself yearning for it. For a hug or simply just a gentle arm around your shoulder. It used to bring you so much comfort. But times were tough with all that had happened recently. The three of you were even more on edge than ever before. 

Your brothers had always told you that you could ask them for anything. That you could tell them whatever you wanted… but this wasn’t just something you could ask them for. You had seen how they often shunned away from touch. From relationships. Having seen so much pain and having lost so many people…they struggled to allow themselves to let their guard down enough to enjoy a tender moment. Even with you. So no matter how much you yearned for it you could never bring yourself to push the want from your mind and into words. 

So when the hunt went worse than you could have imagined you kept quiet. 

Dean’s hand was right there; peeking out from the hem of his flannel. His fingers were bloody and calloused, scarred and covered in small cuts and yet his touch was still tender. You felt your own fingers itch to reach out and lace them between his. You wanted for him or Sam to wrap you up in their arms and hold you close. To squeeze your hand. Or a shoulder. But you knew that they had much more pressing matters to deal with that overshadowed “needy little sister”. 

You trailed behind them, dragging your feet ever so slightly to kick up the dirt and leave trails between the orange leaves. You did not look up at your brothers because you knew you would see Dean's set jaw and Sam’s pinched eyebrows as they too mourned the hunt. 

A small boy had been caught by a shtriga. He had been no older than 5 or 6 with these big, blue eyes that got impossibly wider as the creature stalked toward him. And his scream…it pierced through the air like a beam of light: clear as day yet providing no clarity. No safety like light should bring. Instead it was cold and filled with a gripping terror. 

The three of you had been too slow. No matter how hard you dragged your stubborn limbs you couldn’t get to him fast enough. So now you trudged along in silence. 

The sight of Baby did not, in fact, provide you with the relief you thought it would. Instead the gleaming of the bonnet against the moonlight just made your stomach churn. You knew that you would all try to bury the memory in a box, deep in the back of your mind. But it was never that easy. They tried hard, but you would hear them late at night. Dean hardly slept as he tried to drink his troubles away and Sam barely left his room. And then there was you who lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you wept softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to curl up in a ball. It didn’t bring the same comfort as theirs did, like it had done when you were small and naive when you crawled into their bed after a nightmare. When things weren’t so fucking complicated. 

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you reached for the metal handle. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in silence to be left with your own thoughts. You couldn’t be alone. Not right now. 

“Sammy…”  Your voice was quiet. Hushed. Barely a whisper pushed out on cracked lips that trembled. 

Sam paused, his hand halfway between where he had been picking at the hem of his jeans and the handle of the passenger door. He lifted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement. 

“Sit with me… Please.”

“Of course.” His face melted and he moved in one swift movement. 

He slid in the backseat, leaning against the door frame and stretching out across the seats. He pulled you in to lean against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side. And began to weep. 

“Kiddo?” Sam asked gently. “What’s up?” His hands traced small circles on your arm.

Dean reached over the back of the seat with a concerned look, though part of it could be easily mistaken for fear. “It’s not your fault, Sweetheart-” He started.

“Just…hold me. Please.” You clung onto Sam, your other hand reaching out to settle atop of Dean’s. Their touch was comforting, yet you couldn’t help the wavering as you wept. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

And so they did. Sam nestled you further into his side, tucking your head beneath his chin and Dean clambered out of his seat to join the two of you in the back. He settled down on your other side, sandwiching you between the two of you. And they held you. They ran their fingers through your hair, held your hand and spoke to you. They held you tight and the three of you stayed close together, with no intention of moving any time soon.

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SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

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[bloodfreak-boyking]

"you wanna take another swing, go ahead, if it'll make you feel better." -> "dean you only touch me when we're dying or fighting so please dear god punch me if it means i get to feel your hands on me again"

[thefandomchaos]

Sam and Dean are both touch starved, but Sam is ‘I crave comfort’ and Dean is ‘I don’t know how to react to comfort’

[wormstacheangel]

Dean and Cas in Motel6

The sun was shining through the motel window. Its glowing rays danced across Dean’s freckled back. A sight he never thought he would be privileged enough to see.

Dean asleep—drooling on the pillow even—naked and tangled up in motel sheets. Which was not the new part. No. The new and most amazing sight was that Cas was laying almost the same way. Except for the drooling since he did not sleep. And in this moment he thanked his lucky stars he didn’t. 

He couldn’t imagine missing even a second of Dean’s peaceful breathing. 

Oh, but he wanted to touch. His hands kept reaching over wanting to rake his fingers in soft brown hair or glide his hand down soft warm skin. His body ached to just be close to his best friend but he was still so hesitant. Dropping his hand between them but continued admiring the most beautiful man. 

His lover.

Cas almost chuckled but didn’t want to shake the bed. Dean would have cringed at that.

But wasn’t that true now? After this night, shouldn’t Cas be able to call Dean his?

“Stay.” Dean had begged last night. 

Cas remembered every detail, from the way Dean’s hands gripped to the way Dean panted his name. Even calling him Castiel once at some point. But he especially remembered Dean’s words.

“Fuck. I love you so much. Stay. Stay. Stay.”

Since being reunited they haven’t talked about his dying words or “The truth” as Sam likes to put it. Cas was brought back to resume business as usual. Except no Chuck and Jack was now the all-knowing. Which meant Cas was gone all the time with his son. 

He has not had a second of alone time with Dean, but he got a phone call last night. It wasn't a drunk call that made him drop everything and leave heaven behind. No, this was Dean's prayer.

“Come get me.”

It was all a strange whirlwind after that. 

He arrived at a motel, knocking once before being pulled in. He remembers the hesitant touching but the kissing was desperate for them both. Closing the gap between them so easily before falling into bed. 

And now it’s the morning and here they both are. 

He worried what Dean would say when he awoke. If this was all one big mistake. He wanted to prepare his heart for another goodbye and, even if this is all he gets, this wonderful night with Dean, then he will cherish it forever. 

He will pretend it never happened for Dean’s sake. For their family’s sake. 

But he knew he could never forget the warmth he felt finally being with the man he loves. 

Maybe he should leave before Dean wakes up. Save them both the trouble of an awkward conversation. 

He carefully scooted out of bed. Sitting at the edge of it, watching his bare feet on the filthy old carpet, debating whether or not to savor one last look at Dean before he left. 

“Unless you’re getting up to get me some damn breakfast,” Cas's back straightened as he heard the raspy voice. “You better get back in bed, Sweetheart."

Cas turned his head to see Dean lift up the sheets just enough to let him scoot in but not let the cold creep in. He smiled his sleepy grin and motioned with his chin to come close. Cas couldn't help but let the worries melt away as he slipped into the bed. Their bodies were close, it was almost electric as they kept an eye on each other. Looking for answers neither wanted to ask the questions too.

“Beautiful.” Cas thought at the same time as Dean said the word out loud. Only a whisper but still so confidently said. 

They both smiled as the tension faded. Their hands slowly crept between them before their pinkies hooked together.

Cas looked at their hands as he confessed. “I've been wanting this with you for so long. I…I never thought it was possible.” I never want to let go.

“Sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass.” He joked but his small smile was so sincere as he continued. “I was missing you like crazy. And I was trying to be patient and let you settle in with your whole new role as God's Dad and all but,” Dean slides his hand up Cas’s arm and gently places it on his cheek. Looking into his eyes, Cas saw no sadness. “I'm tired of wasting my time not being with you. You can…you have me, Cas. Always did.”

His eyes watered but he wouldn’t dare look away from the pretty face. He took Dean's hand and placed a kiss on his palm. He made sure Dean was listening to him before he let out a heavy breath. “I love you.”

He heard Dean's heart race and his breath hitched before he relaxed. Closing the space between them with a kiss. Long, sweet, and wonderful kiss. 

“After we make up for so much damn time,” Dean pulled Cas almost on top of him. “Maybe we can get that breakfast we were talking about earlier.”

“I wasn't talking about breakfast.” Cas chuckled, bending down to let his lips trace warm freckled skin. “But I do love the idea.”

“Great.” Dean pulled Cas’s face away from his throat and let their eyes lock. “You know I love you too, right?”

Cas couldn't respond but he felt like the Grinch and his grace grew two sizes that moment—though he knew it wasn’t possible, he just felt so happy. His eyes finally shed those tears he was holding in while he tucked his face into Dean’s chest. Feeling big, strong, and—best of all— gentle hands rub mindless circles into his back. 

Cas knew he was important. He knew he was wanted to some degree. But finally hearing those words, from someone he truly loves, felt healing in some way. How has he lived so long without being loved?

The motel room filled with a golden light of morning sun and soft humming from the man he loves. You could see every tear in the wallpaper, mold on the ceiling, and even how the carpet had different color stains but at this moment, it was the most beautiful place in the world. 

In this moment, he was truly in heaven.

[morallygreyintrovert]

We talk a lot about Dean being touch starved but what about Cas????

He went millions of years never being touched except violently in heavenly battles. Then spends 10 years getting scraps of affection only in the form of a quick ‘welcome back’ hugs, the occasional pat on the back and accidental shoulders nudges.

Cas doesn’t know the loving touch of a parents hands combing through your hair when you’re poorly. He doesn’t know what it’s like to run into the excited arms of a friend because the weekend was too long a time to not see each other. He never got to experience awkward teenage first touches like a quick peck on the lips or holding hands because you can’t bear to to be apart. Or the caring gesture of another human being delicately massaging knots out of your back to ease your suffering. No one’s ever stroked his cheek affectionately or adoringly kissed him on the forehead just because. He’s never shared a shower with a lover and had his hair washed for him and got to feel how light you feel when you’re completely taken cared of.

He’s not touched starved because he’s never been touched. He has no idea what it feels like to be loved physically. He’s dying of starvation and he has no idea because he never realised it was an option for him to be fed.

[nayeliq1]

June 8th, prompt: Touch

Touch. Dean had always liked touch, had always needed touch. Platonic touch, sexual touch, simply kind and loving touch.

Intimacy wasn't easy on a body that was so used to beatings, any gentleness felt unnatural and foreign. Even a hit that left his face bruised and bloody could feel like a caress when you were starved for contact, when violence was the only intimacy you knew.

But Dean had always longed for what he couldn't have. 

He wanted the ease of affection shared without a second thought. He wanted casual kisses and entwined fingers and brushing thighs and the exchange of smiles. He wanted closeness in all its beautiful familiarity.

And he didn't trust anyone but Cas to hold him and not simply sit by and watch as Dean's heart and body fell apart in his arms.

Sometimes he wondered, what if he just gave in?

Following the desperate need to feel Cas' fingers brushing against his when he handed the angel his morning coffee. Draping his arm over the couch during movie night, curling it around Cas' shoulders to pull him in and feel his warmth, hearing the content sigh Cas might make. Catching Cas' hand after the angel had healed him, keeping him in place before he could withdraw, delaying that inevitable moment when he'd lose the touch he so desperately craved.

Keeping Cas' hands on his body, Cas' eyes on his heart, and Cas' attention on his soul.

For @starcrosseddeancas Dreamy Drabbles

[calibrationneeded]

“I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we’ve suffered enough.”

(Seven years of sleep #4, Nikka Ursula)

[follows-the-bees]

Dean and Mary in season two and season twelve.

Dean remembers soft touches.

But that was before. Before they were replaced with harsh words and regimen. Before the cold hard steel of a gun became more commonplace in his hands. Before revenge consumed his father's life, which ultimately affected his.

Before his mom died.

But he took those memories of soft moment and he extended them to others. To the strangers along the way who were confused, torn apart with fear at the reality of monsters roaming free to terrorize. He offered them touch and kindness that might heal those shards of fractured feelings.

He extended it to Sam. Who was unceremoniously placed and held in his arms and metaphorically never put down. He offered comfort and touch in the land of tucking in foreign hotel sheets and reading battered story books. Of the best gas station food and late night math homework.

He extended it to the people who agreed to a one-night time of fun. Seeking warm closeness in each other to bade off the plaguing coldness of isolation.

In return he received the occasional moments through those soft touches. Through the gentle healing brush of an angel that sent warmth flooding through his veins, and a soft smile to his lips. In the soft smiles and blunt honesty of someone who saw him for exactly who he was and didn't shy away.

From friends collected like shreds of ripped threads of normalcy in a life full of death, destruction, a harshness you wear like a shell that keeps you and your loved ones alive.

Through a memory foam mattress that molded specifically to him. Something he could never ask of others to do, to bust offering the softness to ever ask for it.

After, he got used to the harsh touches . Enemies used it as power, a sign that they were stronger, more dominant than him. Stronger than the softness that stirs quietly in him, crying out to be heard, to be held, to be loved.

They only saw the outer beauty his genetics handed down, but not all he internalized.

Dean never forgot.

He imagined that soft touch in other realities, ones that tried to draw him in with the comfort.

But then he received that love decades later, decades spent on Earth, in Hell, and the in between of Purgatory. The touch only a mom can give. Of comfort, home, safety. Of love. Without condition.

Before became now.

[youchangedmedestiel]

You know what was hard for Dean when he was in that underground and government-run prison, isolated, was that he was alone with nothing. They had nothing. But what was the hardest is that he didn't get any touch. Any touch at all. He would have trade a good punch in the face instead of this nothingness. He would have trade any kind of torture touch just to feel somebody's slight brush of skin against his.

And when they were finally free, sure he touched those people that were hunting him but it was more about survival. But then, he got to hug Cas and his mom and it felt so good. He could finally feel someone else's warmth against his touch-deprived body for so long. He felt like being alive again.

[fountaincas]

pictures that make me go insane and tear my hair out:

[jetblxck]

goals

- graduate college

- drive down pacific coast highway at sunset listening to lana del rey with a sexy dilf

[vesperscas]

cas comes back from the empty but his grace has been damaged to a point where he can't really control it. so whenever he gets too close to dean he starts glowing. dean claps him on his shoulder and his entire arm starts glowing. dean pulls him in for a hug and pulls back to find out that cas' skin is flaring gold. he's like "uh what is this about dude" and cas tells him it's his grace recovering so dean should really just touch him all the time to make sure his grace recovers much faster.

[pedrasacorn]

I had a vivid dream with Dean where I was casually leaning on him while he researched in this weird library, and dude his arms are so big it was so comforting

of course though the world disintegrated in front of my eyes because it was the end times and I guess that’s supernatural for you