plaidtrenchcoat
Hold my fucking hand, loser. We’re using the buddy system for the rest of our lives.

Valentine’s Day, Destiel

"I’ll, uh, have those ones please." Dean muttered, scratching the back of his head as he pointed to the biggest, brightest bunch of flowers he could see.

"For a special lady?" The florist asked, as she reached for the flowers.

"Yeah, something like that." Dean replied, looking round awkwardly, his cheeks flushed pink.

He was dreading seeing someone that he knew walk into the shop. I mean, what the fuck would people say if they saw Dean fucking Winchester buying flowers. Dean did not do flowers, or dates, or mushy romance, or damn valentines day! He never had done, he never planned to. Of course, every damn thing about Dean changed the second he saw that fucking boy, with his blue fucking eyes and that cute fucking smile that made his heart race every fucking time he had the pleasure of witnessing it.

Dean wasn’t gay though. Hahaha, oh no. Not at all. Nope. Never. He was just intrigued by Castiel. That’s all it was. Simple curiosity. Because Dean wasn’t gay. Nope.


Dean took the flowers from the lady and threw her the money, before quickly fleeing the shop. It was too pretty and smelly and flowery for Dean to handle, and he never wanted to step foot in that place again.



"Dean, hello." Cas smiled, his eyes flickering to the flowers and then back to Dean.

"Oh, um, hi Cas, how..how are you?" Dean stammered, his face blushing redder by the second.

"So, today’s Valentines Day, huh? Those flowers, are they for someone special?" Cas asked him, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.

Dean looked down at the flowers in his hands and his eyes widened,  as if he were not expecting them to be there. He stopped for a few seconds to think and a few, nervous beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"Oh, these old things?" He chuckled nervously. "They’re just for my, urm, my Aunt."

The small smile that had graced Castiel slipped from his lips. Cas tilted his head slightly to the left and Dean couldn’t help but think that it made him look like a puppy. A fucking adorable puppy. He raised his eyebrows at Dean, clearly confused.

"I was unaware that you had an Aunt, Dean."

Shit. Busted.

"Oh, yeah, well, I, uh, I better be getting these to her then." Dean, stuttered, all flustered and nervous, before hurrying off in the opposite direction to Cas.

Damn Cas with his cute little face and that smile and those eyes and his hair. And his butt. Oh god, did Castiel have a good butt. And fuck he just needed to tell him. Just blurt it out. It was just Cas after all.

'Just Cas',Yeah, that's the fucking problem.

Dean found himself turning on his heels to go back to Cas, but then turning away again, and then back to Cas. An internal war was raging on inside him. The age old battle of the head versus the heart. Fortunately Dean’s heart won this time.

With a fierce determination that he had lacked beforehand, Dean turned around and sprinted after Cas. When he finally caught up to Cas, who was a surprisingly fast walker, he reached out a hand and placed it on Cas’ shoulder, turning him around. Cas seemed startled, but happy to see Dean, which reassured him slightly.

"So, Cas, I don’t have an Aunt." Dean mumbled, scratching an invisible itch on the back of his neck.

"I’m aware of that, Dean." A small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

And without giving himself another second to overthink, or analyse, or question what he was doing, Dean thrust the overly large bouquet of flowers into Castiel’s hand. His cheeks, already deep scarlet, flushed even darker if that was possible. And, without waiting around for any kind of reaction, Dean turned and sprinted away from Cas as fast as he could possibly go, and he didn’t turn around once.

 But if he had he would have seen Castiel leaning his face towards the flowers and inhaling deeply, a knowing grin adorning his face.

——

My first ever Destiel and my first piece of writing in months, so sorry if it sucks. Thank you to destiel-cockles-n-probably-smut for this adorkable idea.
destiel-cockles-n-probably-smut

destiel-cockles-n-probably-smut:

mishas-angel:

Guys, I really wanna write my first destiel imagine, does anyone fancy giving me a prompt?

Imagine dean getting all blushie and chickening out like three times on giving Cas flowers for valentines day and finally he just shoves them at Cas and runs away and Cas just kinda grins like ‘I knew it’

Omg thankyou! I am so writing this!!

thechosenpony
cassywinchestertheangel:

supernatural-imagines-for-you:

youtubekillsme:

dendenmusume:

fuckyeahhyugiohyaoi:

stayfearless134:

You never know if someone needs this. Reblog this, even if its not your ‘blog type’. Just do it.

Yes, please reblog

Do it. Now.

i sat here and thought about reblogging this or not but then i realized how many people feel suicidal, and i  have too its not dan and phil but i could honestly care less, bc i rather have someone not die then make sure i strictly stay to my ‘blog type’ 

Not my blog type at all, but I don’t want any of my followers to hurt themselves ever. So this is for them, love you guys.

this is for you guys

cassywinchestertheangel:

supernatural-imagines-for-you:

youtubekillsme:

dendenmusume:

fuckyeahhyugiohyaoi:

stayfearless134:

You never know if someone needs this. Reblog this, even if its not your ‘blog type’. Just do it.

Yes, please reblog

Do it. Now.

i sat here and thought about reblogging this or not but then i realized how many people feel suicidal, and i  have too its not dan and phil but i could honestly care less, bc i rather have someone not die then make sure i strictly stay to my ‘blog type’ 

Not my blog type at all, but I don’t want any of my followers to hurt themselves ever. So this is for them, love you guys.

this is for you guys

boykingdom

boykingdom:

“When I was a kid, before my mom died…” Dean confesses in a quiet murmur. “There were two things I was drawn to in particular. One of them was angels. The other was stars.”

The night is quiet and presses into them, but does so in no way that is suffocating. The metal of the Impala is cool under their hands where they sit on the flat hood, both looking toward the sky. Castiel directs his gaze to Dean.

“Angels and stars?” he asks, imploring.

Dean nods and shrugs with an air of causality, though he can’t quite meet Castiel’s eye. He doesn’t elaborate.

Castiel smiles a soft smile and adds the information to his already collected pile of things he keeps about Dean in the most intimate part of his mind.

Dean Winchester: the boy saved by an angel and sown together with stardust.

It’s all very fitting.

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