healthy bromances, ft. gay sex

short drabble based on that hilariously atrocious article on nerd reactor. dean/cas, ~800 words, slightly nsfw

“Dean, I found something on the internet,” Cas calls from the dining room.

Dean sets down the butter knife he’s holding, mayonnaise clinging to the blade from where he’s lathered it into their BLT’s.

“You what?” he asks, wiping his hands on his jeans and making his way from the kitchen to where Cas is seated around the corner. There’s a laptop on the table in front of him and Cas’s eyes are fixed squarely on whatever’s on the screen. From the pinched, frustrated look on his face, it can’t be something good. “What did you find, babe?”

Cas’s eyes only flutter momentarily at the pet name before replying. “It’s an article someone has written about the Supernatural book series.”

“Oh no,” Dean groans. “Cas, don’t look at shit like that, man. It’ll just make your head hurt.”

“Charlie sent me the link. Dean,” Cas pins him with a serious glare, “this man is very wrong.”

Keep reading

Cereal Misadventures

Awhile ago kurosaki224 came to me and asked if I would write a short little Destiel fic in the “In college and go to get cereal and the dispenser breaks causing cereal to go everywhere” AU. I finally found time to get this sucker done. So… here it is! 


            Castiel jolted awake with a nagging fear in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t heard his usual Monday alarm go off, which, of course, was never a good sign. A quick look at his phone solidified the sinking feeling. “7:36am,” it read. Cas’ class started at 8:20. “Shit,” he swore as he flung the covers to the side and sat up. A sudden, loud, protesting growl from his stomach alerted him that food was the main priority. So much for that shower, he thought. He scrambled out of bed, trudged over to the sink and applied a heavy amount of deodorant and a couple spritzes of his strongest cologne. I suppose that will have to do…

              Cas started his morning cup of coffee as he gathered the items he needed for his first class. He continued his routine and pulled out a random pair of jeans and a shirt from his dresser. The shirt he plucked was an old, white Elvis shirt that was definitely his favorite. He pulled his maroon cardigan over his shoulders and grabbed the now ready pot of coffee from its nook and poured a generous amount into his Wile E. Coyote mug.

            He sighed contently as the soothing aroma of Columbian coffee tickled his nose. He closed his eyes as he brought the mug to his lips, but they shot back open as the scalding hot liquid hit his tongue. He jerked the mug away from him in surprise causing coffee to spill down his chest and onto his favorite shirt. For the second time in five minutes, Cas swore under his breath. He stripped the cardigan and pulled the stained t-shirt over his head, grumbling something about “just my luck” as he yanked a new, less important shirt from his drawer. He angrily threw his cardigan over his shoulder and grabbed his backpack. Finally ready and armed with books and coffee, he started this dreary and overcast Monday by making his way down to the dining hall.

               Ahh, finally, Cas thought as he approached the cereal station, something good for this already horrid day. He snagged a bowl from the stack under the counter and set it next to his favorite cereal, Oaty Bran Crunch. Having a cereal like Oaty Bran Crunch as his favorite was like a gift to Castiel. It ensured that there was never a shortage and that it was guaranteed that he could always start his day right. He picked up the plastic scoop and reached for the dispenser lid to retrieve his meal when the truly unexpected happened.

               Not only did the lid open, but the entire face of the container swung out, as if it hadn’t been latched properly, causing nearly every piece to fall to the floor and scatter. Cas felt two inches tall as passers-by made no efforts to contain their laughter. It felt like the whole world was against him today. If he didn’t already feel like disappearing, then the harsh, gravelly voice from behind that startled him certainly did.

               “Really, man? I was looking forward to that,” the voice exclaimed.

               Cas didn’t even bother turning around. He was far too furious and embarrassed. First a faulty alarm, then my coffee, and now this asshole?

“OF FUCKING COURSE,” Cas exploded, “today would be the day that someone actually cared about thi–“ his words trailed off as he whipped around to face the stranger that had yelled at him. He swallowed hard.

               It was the unrealistically green eyes that caught his attention first. There weren’t words that captured the color properly without making them sound cartoonish. It was as if the Emerald City was hiding behind this man’s eyes. The fellow Oaty Bran lover’s features were equally attractive and intimidating as his voice. His disheveled hair was breathtaking. His gorgeously tanned skin was covered in just the right amount of freckles to almost make the initial intimidation melt away. The stranger flashed a knowing, sly grin as he started making his way to the counter. Oh God, Cas thought as his cheeks flushed, was my gawking really that obvious?

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled as his eyes darted to his shoes, kicking a few pieces of bran away from him. The unnamed man let out a chuckle as he plucked a bowl from under the counter and reached for the scoop.

“No worries, Blue-Eyes,” he quipped, “Cheerios are fine, too,” he added with a smile. The nickname normally would have bothered Cas, but coming from the attractive stranger, it just made the butterflies in his stomach go nuts. He followed the man’s movements as he reached for the lid to the Cheerios dispenser. His shameless gawking was replaced by failed attempts to not fall over laughing as the exact same catastrophe happened to the green-eyed stranger.

Sweet, instant revenge…

“Not so easy, is it,” Cas chirped as a cheeky smile formed. The other man dropped his shoulders in defeat and slowly turned to face Cas. Noticing the absolute shit-eating grin Cas was wearing, his face reddened to a noticeably dark shade. He coughed awkwardly and tried to recover his dignity.

“Uh… that wasn’t me,” he blatantly lied, covering up his defeat with a half-assed, adorable grin. The guy was attractive and funny. Oh no…

“Does ‘me’ have a name,” Cas inquired, stifling his laughter. The stranger smiled.

“Dean,” he answered as he stepped closer, Cheerios and bran crunching beneath his feet. “What about you? Should I just keep calling you Blue-Eyes? Because that works for me.” Cas’ cheeks heated up again at the use of the new nickname. Dammit, Dean, you can’t possibly be this flirty all the time. He noticed Dean look away for a moment in an attempt to hide his equally red face.

“Uh, Castiel. Or Cas, if you like.”

“Alright, well, Cas,” Dean began as he gestured towards the cereal disaster, “I’m thinking waffles sound good at this point.” Cas smiled wide and nodded. He could skip his first class to have breakfast with a cute guy, right?

“Waffles it is.”

A/N: Originally, I was going to include this scene in a much longer fic I’m currently working on, but it ended up not fitting with the overall tone, so I took it out. However, I didn’t want it to go completely to waste, so I thought I’d still share it with you all. :3

“If any of you has reasons why these two should not be wed…”

You really should have told Sam to cut that part out of the script.

“…speak now, or forever hold your—”

Because leaving it in? You’re just asking for it.

“Hello, boys.”

And he’s not even a fucking in-law.

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for starting your nuptials without me,” Crowley says. “Did my invitation get lost in the mail?”


He doesn’t take the hint, though—hell, he wouldn’t take it if you showed him the underside of your boot—using up all your sweet time walking up the aisle. “I always assumed the mantra was ‘bros before hoes,’ but somehow, you managed to have your cake and eat it, too.” He makes a noise that’s something between a sniff and a sneer as he pans the buffet over to the side. Probably both. “Or…pie…judging by the meager after-refreshments.”

Damn straight, there’s gonna be pie.

“I truly thought we had something, Dean, but…”

“Oh, would you get on with it already?”

If there’s a pair of eyebrows with an attitude all their own, they’d be the smug-ass ones Crowley’s raising at you. Like he’s the one who deserves to be so goddamn irritated. “Really? You two kept fucking around the proverbial and literal bush for years, and I’m the one who needs to get on with it? Relax, Dean. I’m not a home wrecker. I’m only here to pass along a prezy for the happy couple. Was your brother’s idea, actually.”

You whip your glare towards Sam.

“Not Moose, numb nuts. Your brother.” He’s pointing at Cas now. “Or shall I say, 'bro’?”

Cas pauses for regularly-scheduled squinting. “Gabriel?”

“He’s very sorry he couldn’t be here, but I’m afraid he’s still too busy playing dead. Nevertheless, he wanted to offer you a small token to celebrate your so-called profound bond.” He pops the lid off the bow-tied box and pulls out a string of pink round—oh, God. “Personally, I think they’re a little tacky, so I added my own twist, of course. Gives new meaning to 'fire in the hole.’”

Jesus Christ, you are not talking about your sex life at your wedding.

Jesus Christ, you’re actually having a wedding.

“Well,” Crowley sighs, “I wish I had some words of wisdom to impart, but quite frankly, what’s the point of telling you to go screw yourselves when you’ve already penciled that in for the evening?”

Swear to your soon-to-be father-in-law, you’re about two seconds away from snatching those beads and strangling him.

“Oh, don’t be such a stiff, Squirrel. Save that for later. And you know you both have a place in my no longer beating heart.” He does a stupid twirly thing with his hand and bows. “You have my blessing.”

Yeah, that’s a real load off your shoulders.

When the douchebag finally snaps out, Cas leans over and says, “I don’t understand. They bought us a necklace?”

Ashen 14

masterpost | 13 | 15

warnings: hurt!dean, underage (Dean is 17), hurt!Dean and aftercare

Castiel had probably strained something with the eye roll he gave.

“I’ll save stroking my dick for when I get home. Excuse me as I manage.” The older man retorted, bending down to watch his fingers trace the stripped skin. Angry and bloody.

With a deep sigh he ignores the commentary about prior ‘worse’ experiences. Focus is better used to takes a sponge out, soaking it in the warm soapy water. Dean’s weathered boots and worn out socks get pushed aside as he squeezes the soaked sponge over the top of the first knee.

He cares little for the massive splash that hits the floor, the warm water running in full streams down the curve of Deans calf muscle, over the top of pale smooth feet and off his toes. It seems a inappropriate time to think of a sort of artistry in how water flows over subtle angles of the teenagers limbs.

Keep reading

“I watched you rake leaves,” Castiel says one day.

Dean lifts his head to look at him in bewilderment. He’s seated cross legged on the bed of the motel room he and Sam are staying in, cleaning his guns to pass the time. With Sam gone to the library he’s left alone with Cas, who stands only a few feet from the foot of the bed.

“What?” Dean asks, not sure he heard right.

“At Lisa Braedon’s house,” Cas clarifies, and suddenly it’s like a dam bursting. “You were raking leaves, and I was there, even though you couldn’t see me. I watched you because I-” he breaks off. “I don’t know why. But I did.”

Deans nods quietly and places his gun in front of him, giving his full attention to Castiel. He’s not sure where this is coming from and not sure where it’s going, but Cas speaks as though he’s been holding it in for a long time, so the least he can do is listen.

“When we were in Purgatory, it killed me to be separated from you. I heard your prayers every night, and every night I had to force myself not to fly to you. I thought it would get easier, but it only got harder.” Cas breaks eye contact in favor of staring at his shoes, and closes his eyes. He’s shaking now.

“Do you have any idea,” his voice is quiet and broken. “how hard that was? How much that hurt? To hear the man you raised from Hell reach out to you every night and be unable to go to him?”

Cas opens his eyes. Dean draws in a breath, unaware he had stopped breathing.

“And then when I was under Naomi’s control-” Cas sounds like he’s scarily close to tears, and Dean feels the need to pull him into his arms, to tell him he doesn’t have to say anything he doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t, because Cas has decided he should. “For my training, she… she made me kill copies of you. Thousands of them, Dean. All of them were you.”

In a remarkably human gesture, Cas lifts the heel of his hand to his eye and takes a deep breath. “Every. Single. One of them,” he shakes out.

“At first I begged for her not to make me do it. And then I cried when I realized I had no other choice. I threw up after the first time, and then it took me hundreds of times to stop crying. After that I was just… dead inside.”

Cas is talking a mile a minute at this point, but he stops and finally meets Dean’s eye, dropping his hand to his side. Dean’s heart breaks at the sight of him. He looks so small and sad, and even though Dean knows he’s millions of years old, he looks young. His eyes are wide and scared.

“And-and then-” he cuts himself off, unable to continue. When he speaks he looks right at Dean, and his voice has slowed down and dropped to a whisper.

“I watched you rake leaves.”

Dean is off the bed in an instant, and it only takes him two strides to reach Cas. Then he takes his tear-streaked face in his hands, pulls him forward, and kisses him. Hard.

“Are you sure we can’t just go home and watch a movie?” Dean grumbles.

“You promised,” Cas says, tugging on his arm insistently. “And I’m making new friends here, Dean. I want you to meet them. It’s been very good for me.”

Dean sighs. He doesn't do meetings, or clubs, or get-togethers or whatever. Especially ones where the punch is just punch. But he also doesn’t know how to say no to Cas for very long.

He lets Cas knock when they get to the door with a brightly-colored handmade “QSA” sign taped to it. A girl with fiery red hair answers, squealing when she sees Cas and pulling him into a hug.

“This is Charlie,” Cas says with a smile.

“What up,” she says with a wide grin, grabbing Dean’s hand and shaking vigorously. “Aromantic homosexual, nice to meet you.”

Dean smiles back and opens his mouth to respond, when Cas answers for him.

“Dean’s straight,” he says quickly. “He’s just here with me as a friend.”

“What?” Dean says, blinking at him. “No I’m not.”

Cas frowns at him. “Not what?”

Straight,” Dean says. He’s confused as fuck, because everybody who knows him knows – he's sure Cas knows – doesn’t he? How could they have lived together for almost a year, known each other for two, without Cas knowing? He doesn’t really make a big deal out of it, sure, but he doesn’t exactly hide it, either. He turns to Charlie instead.

“Bisexual,” he says. “And I have no idea what aromantic means.”

Keep reading

I read about the de-aged!Dean episode and got excited

“So, if you’re Sam,” Dean folded his arms, scrutinising his younger brother who was now twice the size of him, “Where’s dad?”

Sighing, Sam averted his gaze, running a hand through his long hair before he looked back at Dean. It had taken ten minutes for Sam to make Dean believe that he was, in fact, Sam. The concept was a struggle for fourteen year old Dean, who knew Sam as a snot nosed, little kid who followed him around like a puppy. The guy towering above him, with way too long hair, wide shoulders, and a freaking giant- the idea of him being Sam was downright weird.

“Uh,” Sam swallowed, “He’s not here at the moment. On a hunt,” he offered with a weak smile.

“Okay,” Dean shrugged, finding that plausible. In 2014, Dean and Sam were old enough to do shit without John watching over them. Still, it kind of sucked that Dean was stuck with an older Sam who he hardly recognised; at least with his father, he would look more like the man he knew from his time frame.

“I’m-” Sam took a step back, looking freaked out by the situation, “I’m gonna call Cas.”

“Who the fuck is Cas?” Dean retorted.

Keep reading

So there was a discussion yesterday about ace!cas (and how great it is) and how I really wanted to write a long!fic of it in the future. But then last night the idea was still swimming in my head, so I’ve wrote a ficlet to wet my appetite until I have the chance to write a longer fic. Enjoy!

It had been hours. Well, it had probably only been a few minutes, if that, but it felt like hours to Dean. Stuck in what felt like a time freeze, they both stared intently at one another, Cas fiddling with the sleeve of his ugly, oversized sweater, as Dean waited for what he now realised to be an inevitable no.

“You don’t want to date me,” Castiel finally spoke, eyes wide and throat clicking.

“Er,” Dean chuckled awkwardly, “Pretty sure I do, else I wouldn’t have asked.”

The reply didn’t seem to appease Cas, who merely shook his head and kept his distance, “You may think that you do, but you don’t.”

Keep reading

Prompt from the lovely rachesduncan: Cas gets really into knitting or crocheting and he starts making cosies for everything in the bunker. Dean and Sam both find it really weird (although Dean secretly thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world)

read it here on AO3

Click click click click. Dean ground his teeth together, and cast a furious glance towards the corner of the library.

Click click click click. He caught Sam’s eye; his brother rolled his eyes, looking equally annoyed.

Click click click – pause. Dean looked up hopefully. Perhaps Cas was done for toda–

Click click.

“Dammit, Cas!”

Over in the corner of the room, Cas put down his knitting needles with the air of one readying himself for a fight.

Keep reading

1.9k episode coda. dean’s headspace warnings. (ao3)

Dean shuts his bedroom door a little more forcefully than he intends to after dinner and immediately rests against it.

He lets his head fall back and his eyes close as he takes a couple deep breaths, just trying to collect himself. Trying to remember how to breathe without worrying that someone else in the room knows how hard it is.

Cas has his grace back and they’ve been dancing around it all night.

Keep reading


Married!DeanCas AU where the two of them are away from each other for an extended period of time and Cas insists on Skyping every day at the ungodliest of hours (i.e., before noon).

“Whoa. Someone didn’t get enough beauty sleep.”
“Just for that, I’m not wearing pants. And I’m not going to show you this time.”
“One particularly naked ass, thank you.”
“That s’posed to be your way of getting me to tell you I miss you?”
“Is it working?”
“No. Maybe. Whatever. Shut up.”
“Love you, too.”

Ol' Blue Eyes

Dean is a painter, both the artistic kind and the kind that paints houses, he only really makes money doing the latter, but what can you do. He meets Castiel one day when he literally turns his world upside down. Castiel, this passionate professor of comparative literature at the local university who nearly walks right into Dean’s ladder while walking with his nose in a book. Dean luckily hears the guy coming, he’s muttering to himself and he kinda scuffs his feet while he walks, and shouts at him to watch out. It’s too little too late and they both end up on the ground, Dean on top of Cas, the can of paint- “White on White,” Dean recalls- upended on Dean’s head and splattered all over Castiel’s clothes and, most tragically, his book. 

He apologizes profusely to Dean who shrugs it off- “Hazard of the job, what can you do?”- and helps Castiel to his feet. Castiel smiles sheepishly all while cradling his tarnished book. Dean offers to make it up to him, politely disregarding Castiel’s complaints that it was completely his own fault, and asks Castiel to lunch the following day at a little book shop cafe that they both coincidentally frequent with the promise that he will purchase Castiel a new book. 

The date- though Dean swears to his brother, Sam, that it’s no such thing- goes off without a hitch. The conversation goes smoothly and Cas accepts the new book with only a little protest. It’s at that small little table in the coffee shop, the surface stained with the evidence of a coaster-less establishment and the leg that’s a little too short so the table wobbles every now and then, that Dean notices the color of Cas’ eyes. They’re blue, but he can’t figure out what blue. He cycles through the paint chips in his mind, he’s memorized them all, trying to find the best one. At the end of their meal, Dean gives Cas a hug and, trying one of the paint chip names on for size, says, “See you later, Ol’ Blue Eyes.” Cas’ face screws up in confusion, but Dean laughs and walks away. 

Keep reading

prompt by thatweirdgirljess: quarterback!Dean being in love with headcheerleader!Castiel since freshman year. Cas being afraid of just being one of Dean’s flings and repeatedly turning Dean down, until the day Dean is tackled pretty badly and kinda just lays on the ground not moving… Cas abandons his team and runs out onto the field to check on him

Castiel was in the middle of telling his squad that they had to perform to their best today and ignore the rival cheerleading team that were being petty and trying to goad them, when Dean came into his eye line, standing there on the edge of the crowd waiting for Cas to finish. As always, especially before a big game, Dean had a cocky smile on his face, hands in his jacket pockets as he winked over at Castiel.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes back at him, Castiel finished off his speech, hoping that it would give out some motivation. By the bored looks on the other cheerleaders’ faces, Castiel kind of doubted it. Though he was the head cheerleader, many people always felt the need to unhelpfully tell Castiel that he didn’t, in fact, have much ‘cheer’ in him. Castiel could only assume that he’d gotten the role for his leadership skills more than anything else, though he often second guessed himself there too.

“Hey,” Dean greeted him with a grin when Castiel took the few steps towards him.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel smiled, fiddling with his cheerleading jacket, a nervous habit he always seemed to pick up when he was near Dean, much to Cas’ annoyance, “So,” he ran a hand through his messy hair, “It’s the big game.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sam gets cursed with the ability to read thoughts and Dean and Cas' thoughts are beyond dirty towards Eachother although neither of them know what the other is thinking hahaa

I want him to shove that stupid blue tie into my mouth and fuck me into the mattress until I can’t walk properly.

Sam choked violently on his drink and stared at Dean in horror. His brother was casually eating a slice of pie and occasionally glancing over at Castiel. The angel in question wasn’t doing anything in particular and Sam looked between the two of them before figuring he was hallucinating. There was no way this was that curse. No one deserved that. No one. Sam waited a few minutes and after he didn’t hear anything else he shook it off. It was some kind of auditory hallucination and Sam wasn’t a stranger to that.

Keep reading

prompt by mynameisbruni: coffee shop!au

It’s strange what sights you see in the hospital at early hours in the morning- the people who are in A&E who’ve done some weird shit because they’re drunk, high, stupid, or a combination of them all, the families out in the corridors worriedly biting their nails, the nurses and doctors who look like they’re fighting to keep awake and withhold their patience when yet another visitor talks to them like they’re shit.

Thankfully, Dean finds refuge in the coffee shop. The place is empty besides a couple that are in the far corner and Dean tries not to pry into their business; there’s pretty much only one reason why they’d be here at this time of the morning and with the hushed whispers and clutched hands across the table, Dean knows it’s not good news.

Dean takes his coffee to the other side of the room, wrapping his hands around it as he waits for it to cool down. He hopes the coffee will keep him awake, all of his excitement is slowly starting to teeter onto exhaustion and he hopes the coffee will do the trick.

Keep reading

Dean goes over to Charlie’s for a game night and he gets there and doesn’t really know anybody. He’s polite and stuff but doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation, more content to watch the heated game of monopoly everyone’s engaged in. 

Then Charlie breaks out Scattegories and Dean freakin’ loves Scattegories. But the only problem is that there are too many people and not enough boards and cards so they have to partner up. Dean awkwardly shuffles around partnerless until some guy comes up to him and asks if Dean would play with him. Dean grins and they sit down on the couch next to each other. 

“Ah man, I friggin’ love this game,” Dean says excitedly to his new partner. 

 "I haven’t actually ever played it before,“ the guy responds. Dean looks at him with wide eyes. 

"Dude, you’re totally missing out. Don’t worry though, it’s really easy,” he quickly starts to explain the rules as Charlie sorts through trying to find matching cards for everyone. “So basically, we’re gonna get this card that has like, a list of 12 things on it. And they’re categories, right?” The guy nods, blue eyes keenly focused on Dean. Dean wavers a little under the attention. He clears his throat before he continues. “Right, uh, well. There’s a letter and we have to come up with something with that letter that matches the category. And there’s a time limit. You got it?" 

Keep reading

2.6k proposal and wedding fic. bc why not. (ao3)

When Dean finally works up the nerve to propose, they’re on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere Montana. 

The Continental broke down when they were driving back to the bunker after a two week long hunt. Sam took the Impala to go find a gas station or a shop to see if they could get a tow to come pick it up. Dean’s sitting on the trunk with Cas next to him and two cold water bottles in between them.

He doesn’t have a ring or a plan. He, technically, doesn’t even have Cas - at least, not in the way you’re supposed to have someone when you propose to them. 

But, see, here’s the thing - this isn’t new.

Keep reading


Not Part of the Plan’ Installments Book Covers

“urban fantasy AU where Castiel and Dean are from neighbouring countries (Castiel from a kingdom, Dean from a republic), and romance happens”

aka The Best DeanCas Fic Ever Written. do yourself a favor and read this (if you haven’t yet)

(made because I finally put them on my iPod and needed more then the auto-generated covers. the way I know myself I’ll hate these and make new ones within a week but oh well)