don't look at this oh cas

  • Castiel: What's that in your hands Dean?
  • Dean: It's a ring
  • Castiel: What are you gonna do with it?
  • Dean: Ask you to marry me
  • Castiel: Oh I see
  • Dean: *kneeling down* Ok, Castiel, um whatever your last name is, will you marry me?
  • Castiel: *looking confused* should I say yes?
  • Dean: Why are you looking at me, it's your decision
  • Castiel: Ok then, yes
  • Castiel: Are we going to consummate now?
  • Dean: Cas, buddy, how many times have I told you to not say that.
  • Castiel: I forgot.
  • Dean: *huffs out a laugh* Come on let's hit the road and have some fun.

“Wait a second–so you’re saying that you want to get in me?” 

“Who wouldn’t?” Dean chuckled, raising his eyebrows at you as you glared at him. You rolled your eyes and looked back at Castiel, who tilted his head at Dean.

“Well, he’s certainly right, Y/N,” Cas said solemnly, nodding at you and oblivious to the scandalized look on your face. Dean let out a barking laugh at this, holding on to his sides while you blushed. “Did I say something wrong? Y/N has a very suitable vessel.”

“Oh god, Cas…I’ll explain later.” 



You glanced down at the screen of your cell phone which was illuminating the bedside table, squinting a little from the glow in the dark room. It was probably late morning but you had just gotten back from a hunt and crashed. Thank God for blackout curtains. But now Cas’ name was blinking on your phone. You furrowed your brow as you looked at the caller ID.

“Hello?” You tried your best not to sound too groggy.

“Oh. Y/N… I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” You always wondered at how his deep, gravelly voice could have such smooth overtones at the same time. It was very relaxing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, pain coming back slowly to the bruises that were reminders of your hunt. “No, no. It’s fine. What’s up?”

There was a long pause. You had no idea how Cas was suddenly panicking on the other end. You ass. You didn’t think of a real reason to call. You ASS.

“Cas?” Another beat of silence. “Is everything okay?” Now you sat up in bed, your own heart starting to pump a little faster now.

“Umm. Yes. Yes, everything is fine. I just thought I would call to–to check in. You know… To stay in touch… like I do.”

Now you furrowed your brow in confusion. “You don’t really do that,” you said.

“Oh. Well, I think I should. So. Here’s me… doing that.”

“Okay… Well. Good to hear from you, Cas,” you said, rubbing at your eyes.

“Yes. You too, Y/N. As always.”  And he hung up. Castiel, you horse’s ass.

Honestly I love telling people about what’s going on in Supernatural because the look they give you is priceless. Like “Oh yeah, God is bisexual and this gay angel is possessed by Satan. I love Satan and all but he’s being kind of a cockblock. So what’s up with you?”

79. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

It had been nearly three days since Castiel had finally turned back to Castiel. Three days of sleepless nights, yelling and murmured accusations from Dean. Three days of silence from Cas.

Even now, Castiel was as quiet as a mouse, sitting stock still and staring down at his hands on his lap without any sign of movement. It was maddening. And terrifying. And Dean had ran out of things to do. Apparently screaming at the guy wouldn’t work, nor begging. All Dean could do now was accept it for what it was, even if it was the most difficult thing to do.

Dean opened his mouth and shut it. He’d been sitting next to Cas now for about ten minutes and he still didn’t have a clue what to say or how to start it. Everything was a fucking mess. That was an understatement.

“I’ve been so pissed at you for not fucking talking to me,” Dean mumbled, choosing to go straight to the point. “But it’s not about me, is it? You’ve been through some shit. The only other person who could understand a bit of what you’re going through is Sam and he’s telling me to leave you the fuck alone until you’re ready. So I’m gonna listen to him. For once,” Dean huffed, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face. He felt like he’d aged ten years the past few weeks. He swore new wrinkled had formed.

Keep reading


“What I’m trying to say is….well, Cas, I like you. Like more than a friend.”

Cas’ face was unreadable as he looked from you to the floor. 

“More than a friend?” He asked, wetting his bottom lip. “Like, a best friend?”

“Well, not exactly….like romantically.” Cas squinted, still confused and you sighed and took a deep breath. “Like a boyfriend Cas. I like you like that.”

“Oh.” Cas said simply. He didn’t say anything more, but you thought you saw a corner of his mouth twitch up in a smile, and your heart filled with hopeful and nervous butterflies once again.



‘Oh God, not this again.’

Dean hated soap. Hated it. He hated the smell, all sharp and unnatural; he hated the feeling of it all slick against his skin; and he HATED it when it covered the smell of Cas.

His Cas.

With a low growl, he crept up behind the boy in the pretty red cape and pounced, leveling him to the soft ground.

“Dean!” Cas protested, face pinching up in frustration at the young werewolf. “You’ve soiled my cloths again!”

“You smell like soap again,” Dean grumbled, already rubbing against all of Castiels exposed skin.

“Because I took a bath, Dean, I’ve already explained this to you,” he huffed, but the anger in his voice had already faded. This was practically a daily routine by now–Castiel would take a bath in the morning, start his chores, and by lunch he would be covered in dirt and Deans scent again. Mother stopped questioning him about it long ago.

“You smell better with a bit of earth on you, anyway.” Now Dean was nipping at his neck and ears. Castiel had shifted so he was laying comfortably between Deans legs. “You don’t smell like you when you use soap.”

Castiel giggled and stroked his fingers through the back of Deans hair–it made his tail wag and his leg jump and a pleased whine curl out of his throat, just like Castiel knew it would.

“People are different than wolves,” he explained in a hushed voice, “we have to stay clean, or others won’t want to be around us.”

“But you smell better without soap,” Dean insisted.

Castiel smiled, a large, just-for-Dean smile. “That’s just for you and me, isn’t it.”

'Yes,’ Dean thought, pretty green eyes sparking with possession. 'Mine.’

“Mine.” It was a growl more than a word, accompanied by a light bruise on Castiels warm neck, vaguely resembling the shape of Deans plush mouth. “All mine.”

“Yes, Dean. All yours.”
for m-arci-a, bc she dragged me into this trash au and I felt like giving her a gift *throws this in your face and runs away*


“It’s just a fact, Cas. Wherever I go, everything I touch–it falls apart.”

Cas was still staring at you, apparently perplexed. There was a slightly frantic look in his eyes. He knew you were teetering on the edge of doing something you wouldn’t be able to reverse; leaving or making a deal or sacrificing yourself in some other way, martyring yourself. “Don’t you understand? Without you, I fall apart. I’m in love with you. And without you I’m a shadow of what you make me. You can’t truly think that without you my life will be better.”