#cas fics

[supernaturalfreewill]

Cas looked utterly terrified as he studied your face. "Please, understand... Heaven will stop at nothing to find me, to punish me. And that means you aren't safe either. I've lost too many people. I can't lose you too," he said. His deep voice was pleading. "You must stay hidden. Please. I couldn't bear it if—if something happened to you because of me."

You wanted to fight alongside him, but how could you refuse him this request? You'd never seen him so worried, so pale. Finally, you nodded. "Okay. But you have to promise me that you'll come back. Promise me."

It was the only time Cas had ever felt brave enough to reach for your hand. He enclosed it so gently between his and looked into your eyes with his cobalt ones. "I promise. I have everything to fight for."

Prompt: "I've lost too many people. I can't lose you too."

[casawio]

CAS' FIC MASTERPOST

Universal Leftovers (owner's guide to your new body) - "The thing nobody tells you before revival is what comes next. So, you're alive again. What now? (and why did you deserve a second chance?)" - (One shot, with possibly more chapters in the future.)

finding solace (in the end of everything you once knew) - "Wilbur can't help hurting himself in an attempt to be a better person. He's promised himself that this time, his second chance, will be different. He'll be in control of himself this time."

I've Found Running is Something that We've Always Done Well. - "Tommy runs away from home after doing something very, very bad. The guilt drags him down on his journey, and he clings to phone calls from his brother for sanity." (complete one-shot)

Sootstep's Legacy - An abandoned warrior cats / dreamsmp AU

A Ghost Bearing the Nickname Hachikō - angsty ghostbur completed oneshot

I Bet on Losing Dogs - a few twinsduo scenes with some phil mentions. its kind of ooc i wrote it almost 3 years ago

Unsteady - bedrock bros drabble

Rejoice, the Sky’s Fucking Falling - ghostbur has a weird dream / nightmare

[v1ntagecassette]

give up what you love (before it does you in)

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: 

A new hire has turned up at the Crow's Nest Bookshop, and he looks utterly terrified to be here. A new customer has turned up at the Crow's Nest Bookshop, and she's profoundly distracting. A new Barrel boss has turned up at the Crow's Nest Bookshop, and he's about to raze it all to the ground.

Words: 3.4k

When Kaz entered the bookshop to see an entirely unfamiliar face peering back at him from behind the counter, he knew today was going to be a long one.

Save for the yellowy glow of the hanging lamp over the register, the building was still dark. Weak morning sunlight spilled inside through the little glass panes in the door behind him, fighting its way through the smoggy clouds that always settled themselves over Ketterdam this time of year. Whoever watched Kaz approach from the other end of the shop was certainly dressed for the weather; he wore a thick jumper in coppery autumnal oranges, his hands half-hidden in its sleeves.

“Morning,” said the mystery boy, giving a halfhearted wave. He attempted (rather poorly) to play it off like he was scratching at the back of his head of golden curls when Kaz didn’t return the gesture, only kept stalking his way toward the coat hooks that were tucked behind the fiction shelves.

The thunk of Kaz’s cane along the warped old wood seemingly alerted Per Haskell to his presence (never mind that Kaz arrived at precisely nine and a half bells each morning — on the days Haskell actually bothered to turn up around opening, he tended to be far too busy with his morning glass of whiskey to notice the goings-on out on the floor). The old man emerged from the back office with a little wooden dowel in his right hand, and he clapped his left against this new boy’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

“Ah,” said Haskell, gesturing toward Kaz with what must have been the mast of his newest model ship. (The thing took up a frankly embarrassing amount of space in the already-too-small back office; Kaz dreamed of the day he could bash his cane into its half-finished hull.) He sounded about as thrilled to see Kaz as he did any day when he got bored enough to set foot on the floor. “Here he is. The lad himself.”

Kaz arched a brow at him. “It seems I’m not the only lad on the premises this morning.”

“Indeed you’re not,” Haskell agreed. “This” — he gave the boy’s shoulder a little jostle — “is Wylan. He’ll be taking up a part-time position here as of fifteen minutes ago.”

Those fifteen minutes had clearly taken their toll; this kid looked like a newborn deer on an open field, and he eyed each bookshelf like their contents were going to try and eat him. “Hi,” he said, doing his very best to covertly wiggle out of Haskell’s grasp. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kaz didn’t bother to acknowledge him. He bit down on the comment he longed to make about a new hire being made without so much as consulting him and swallowed it hard. “Has he had any training?”

Haskell let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s your job, Brekker, not mine.”

“Of course, sir.” So much for alphabetizing poetry before opening.

“Sir,” Haskell repeated with an inelegant chuckle. He relinquished his grip on the boy and gave the register in front of him a smack. “Look at you, putting on a show for the new hire. You should take after Brekker’s theatrics, son,” he added to Wylan. “It just might get you a raise.”

Kaz knew for a fact that it wouldn’t. Wylan, though, clearly eager to please, nodded and gave a small-but-determined “Yes, sir.”

“A quick learner, eh?” A proper, hearty laugh boomed across the shop; the type Haskell reserved for new business partners and people he wanted to impress. The shine would wear off soon enough, but Kaz made a mental note to keep up the honorifics for the next couple of days.

“A valuable skill,” Kaz said flatly. “One among many, I hope.”

There seemed to be something particularly interesting taking place on the ground between Wylan’s shoes, if the kid’s unblinking stare toward the floor was anything to go by.

“I suppose I’ll leave you boys to it,” said Haskell. (Kaz fought not to bristle — twenty-two, surely, was old enough for him to have graduated from boy.) “Got some important paperwork to get squared away.”

That one nearly received an eye roll. Kaz had been doing this shop’s bookkeeping for just over four years now; any paperwork Haskell planned to work on likely involved a single signature at the bottom of a document Kaz had prepared and printed, or a glance over a spreadsheet Kaz had drafted up that would sit idle on the office’s computer monitor while the old man took a nap in his desk chair.

“Show him the ropes, Brekker,” Haskell said as he ambled off. “Quick crash course, then get him out on the floor.”

Right, of course, because he could absolutely teach this kid all there was to know about the register and the system and the shelving and everything else in — he checked the clock that hung over the creaky green front door — twenty-three minutes.

“Thank you, Mr. Haskell,” Wylan called after him, fiddling with a loose thread at the sleeve of his jumper. He didn’t turn his back on the office door until the old man pulled it closed.

Kaz heaved a sigh and limped around the books that separated the coat hooks from the rest of the shop. He shook his coat from his shoulders, granting himself precisely five seconds to hang it up and scrub a hand through his hair before making his way behind the counter, where Wylan waited quietly with an air of anxiety hanging over him like fog on the harbor.

From a single glance, it’d been clear that this new hire was almost sickeningly polite. Kaz had begun bracing himself for a handshake the moment he laid eyes on the kid; it was more than clear he’d be the sort to introduce himself formally, most likely out of some learned sense of obligation. There was a certain reluctance about him — a need to make a good impression. His wide blue eyes darted repeatedly from Kaz to the office door and back again, and his reddish brows had a permanent, apologetic crease between them, almost as though he were asking forgiveness for occupying space in the shop. Whatever stone he’d been hewn from, it wasn’t the same sort that cobbled the Barrel’s streets.

“Hi,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m Wylan.”

Kaz shook it shortly, grasp and release. “So I’ve heard.” He elected to ignore the way Wylan’s attention lingered for just a moment too long on his glove.

“And… sorry, what was your name?”

“Kaz Brekker.” Wylan would know that if he’d ever once set foot in this establishment before; Kaz’s name was scattered all about the place on the little shelf talkers that recommended certain books. (Haskell had been terribly opposed to them, but he stopped complaining once titles that had lived on the shelves long enough for their pages to go yellow were suddenly getting restocked weekly.)

“You’re the manager, then?” Wylan asked.

According to Per Haskell? No. He was a bookseller at best and a nuisance at worst. According to the bills, the payroll, the deliveries, the decor, and the time last winter when Kaz had come into the shop at four bells in the morning to call in an emergency repair for a burst heating pipe? Yes. Very much so. For Wylan’s sake, Kaz elected to abbreviate. “More or less.”

“Cool,” Wylan said, and with that, he seemed to have expended his bank of small talk. Kaz would’ve been happy with the silence, but he figured he should at least try to make conversation. Jesper was always on his hide about how curt Kaz was with the customers.

“So,” he said, propping his cane against its corner beside the register as he booted up the dusty old computer, “Haskell’s been hiring?”

“I guess.” The thread on Wylan’s cuff was growing ever longer; he’d have the whole sleeve unraveled by lunch if he kept this up. “He said you’d been talking about bringing someone new on board for a while now.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, something about… new blood, I think he said? Being good for morale?”

Kaz leaned down to turn on the receipt printer, chewing that over. “Per Haskell,” he said, “hasn’t listened to a word of advice I’ve given him since the day he took me on. I’ve been one bad customer away from putting out my own damn help wanted listing for the better part of two years. And yet” — Kaz peered over his shoulder — “he took your application in a heartbeat.”

“Sounds like I got lucky.” Wylan’s poker face was in desperate need of work, but Kaz wouldn’t put him through the wringer just yet. He turned back toward the monitor.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” he asked, straightening up. “Any particular wheelhouse?” Kaz had dropped a hundred hints about taking on someone more versed in the science and maths section for months, but to no avail. Maybe, for once in his life, the old man had taken note.

“Oh, ehm. I like… I like fiction?”

Naturally. “Fiction,” Kaz repeated.

“Yep.”

Everyone and their mothers liked fiction. That wasn’t much to go on. “Adult? Children’s? Literary? Historical?”

“I sort of read all over.”

Kaz actually had to take a moment to close his eyes and breathe. Why in Ghezen’s name had Haskell hired this kid? The way he paled at each question made Kaz wonder if he even read at all. Kaz put his back to the computer as it finished sputtering to life, and the moment Wylan realized Kaz’s eyes were on him again, he snapped to attention.

“But if you need someone to, um, cover a certain section, or something,” he said in a rush, “I can be wherever you need me.”

It was difficult to place exactly what energy Wylan was giving off. Anxious, maybe, but not just about starting a new job. Eager to please, but that seemed more innate than conditional. Reading people was a skill Kaz had carefully honed over the years; no matter how closely he scrutinized Wylan’s tone and expression and posture, though, he just couldn’t parse out why this boy looked as though he’d walked into an ambush unarmed.

“Noted,” Kaz said. He retrieved his cane and stepped out onto the floor; as expected, Wylan followed close behind. “Get those switches flipped on,” he said, nodding toward the six wooden pillars wrapped in string lights that stood sentry around the center of the shop. “I’ll get the door.”

It admittedly wasn’t unpleasant to have someone around to assist with the more menial morning duties. Jesper rarely turned up to open — he wasn’t the most punctual of employees, and mornings were never terribly busy, anyway — but with Wylan around, all Kaz really needed to worry about was turning the open sign and unlocking the door. By the time he was done, Wylan had finished with the lights and had taken to standing entirely still with a lost sort of look on his face. Kaz just brushed past him, heading toward the back half of the shop to get that section squared away, too.

“Jesper mans middle readers’,” Kaz said as he walked, “but you’re welcome to assist in that department. He’s got a habit of stacking enough recommendations into customers’ arms to tip them over. It gets a bit overwhelming.”

“Jesper?” Wylan repeated. “Not Jesper Fahey?”

Kaz paused in the act of pulling the chain on a hanging lantern. “You know him?”

“Not really,” said Wylan. He was prodding at a handful of children’s fantasy books, trying to make them all sit evenly in a row. “I just — we have class together. Or had class together, I suppose. At the university? I haven’t seen him in a month or two.”

“Interesting.” Kaz would file that away for later.

“Speaking of the university,” Wylan said, tugging on a paperback to line up its spine with the edge of the shelf, “do you go? I would’ve thought I’d’ve seen you around.”

I’m too old for school, came an unwanted echo from the back of Kaz’s head. Too smart, too. Maybe little pigeon Kaz had taken that to heart. “No,” he said, and he set back off for the register.

“Mr. Haskell mentioned training,” Wylan said, still dogging Kaz’s every step. At least he knew when to drop a topic of conversation.

“That he did.” Kaz nodded toward the computer screen. “Have you ever worked a point-of-sale system?”

“No.”

Kaz considered him. “Ever worked at all?”

“Um. Also no.”

It took a concerted effort for Kaz to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose. Though he longed for the simplicity of a morning spent doing anything other than training some doe-eyed university boy, it seemed fate wouldn’t be granting him that luxury today. “Alright,” he said. “Then we’ll start from square one.”

The following hours were blessedly quiet — they usually were this early in the day, but Kaz had learned to take small victories where he could find them. He gave Wylan a short tour of the shop, which Wylan spent scratching away at a small notepad, diligently scribbling down… something. He held it too close to his chest for Kaz to see, even when he didn’t think Kaz was looking. (Kaz would have to find a time to pickpocket it off him some time soon.)

Wylan was a quick enough learner; he could count back change in his head, which Kaz respected more than he’d ever admit aloud, and he picked up processing returns without trouble. His seemingly subconscious seeking of approval meant that he was dedicated and determined; by all counts, he was shaping up to be a pretty decent employee.

Issues began to arise, however, when Kaz showed him the inventory and the distributor sites. Wylan grew flustered when Kaz suggested he search up a book he was familiar with in order to learn how the system categorized the sections, and more flustered still when Kaz proffered a specific title for him to type in. What little tension had seeped from his body over the past handful of hours returned to it tenfold as his hands hovered motionless over the keyboard.

“Sorry,” Wylan kept saying, “sorry, sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

Kaz saw no point in causing the new hire psychological distress on his first day, and frankly, it was too early in the day to try and puzzle out why the kid was wound so tight. He cut his losses and dug a duster out of the back room, then extended it to Wylan handle side out. He’d been trying to get Jesper to clean up the lower shelves for longer than he cared to quantify; maybe having an extra set of hands on deck, no matter how suspicious their arrival had been, wasn’t the worst thing.

As it turned out, Wylan was incredibly diligent. He kept to himself as Kaz did his usual paperwork and order-placing, only drifting back toward the counter when the odd customer showed up to watch Kaz make sales over his shoulder. Wylan was somewhere in the far back of the shop when Jesper finally took it upon himself to waltz inside, wearing absurdly patterned trousers and an even more absurd jacket to guard against the early autumn chill.

“Morning!” he called out far louder than he needed to.

“It’s half past twelve bells,” Kaz noted.

“And I just rolled out of bed. Hence: morning.” Jesper sauntered up to the counter and dropped a brown paper bag atop it. Kaz lifted a brow.

“What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” Jesper replied, reaching inside and digging out a croissant frosted with chocolate. “You know. That thing people eat in the morning. I got you some, too. Chocolate-free, just for you, Dirtyhands.”

Kaz made no move to reach for the bag. “If you make a mess of a single book cover —”

“I won’t!” Jesper insisted. A drop of chocolate chose that moment to land on his knuckle. “I solemnly swear to thoroughly wash my hands,” he said, crossing his heart with his croissant-free index finger.

“Ghezen help you if you don’t,” said Kaz.

There was a creak from behind him as Wylan passed through the little swinging door between the children’s section and the counter, presenting Kaz with what looked like a recently deceased rabbit. “Are there more of these dust-y things?” Wylan asked, sliding the once-yellow (now gray) disposable cover from the duster’s handle.

“Supply closet.” Kaz had busied himself with cracking open a new roll of coins, but he could feel Wylan’s questioning eyes on him from where he stood. “The door tucked between the coat hooks. The handle has a habit of sticking.”

Wylan nodded. He nearly made it four steps away from the counter before Jesper intercepted him, arms folded, chin up, seeming intrigued by the way Wylan froze on the spot like a small animal caught digging through the bin.

“Morning,” Jesper said again, his gray eyes glittering with interest. “Who might you be, O stranger behind the register?”

“Oh, um, hi. We’ve actually — Hi. I’m Wylan.” His arm jerked slightly, like he had been planning to shake hands but decided against it once he noticed that Jesper was holding what must have been the world’s messiest croissant.

“Wylan?” said Jesper. “Wylan who?”

“Van Eck,” Kaz said without looking up.

“Wh — I never told you that.” Wylan whipped his head around to face him; there was a mildly distressed expression on his face (which Kaz, of course, didn’t see).

Kaz shrugged, shaking the coins into the till. “Didn’t need to.”

“Van Eck?” said Jesper. “As in high-and-mighty merch Van Eck?”

“Yep,” Wylan said to his shoes.

“The Van Eck whose smarmy face is plastered all around Ketterdam? The one who’s gunning for a spot at the head of the Merchant Council?”

“That’d be the one.” The tips of Wylan’s ears had gone noticeably pink.

“Huh.” Jesper ripped a hunk off his croissant and took a thoughtful bite. “What’s a merchling like you doing in retail?”

“Working,” Wylan said shortly.

Jesper snorted. “Well, paint me red and call me Mister Crimson,” he said, nudging Wylan in the side with his elbow. “Welcome to the world of the working man.”

“Thank you.” Wylan cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels. “I’m, um. I’m going to go get that duster.” He vanished behind the fiction shelves without another word.

“Bit twitchy, that one, isn’t he?” Jesper said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “I’d love to know how he landed here.”

“So would I,” said Kaz, sliding the drawer shut with a clatter.

Jesper spun around to face him, legs crossed, pointedly ignoring the way Kaz glared at him for putting his shoes up on the counter. “What, did you not hire him yourself?”

“No. Haskell sprung him on me first thing this morning.”

“A classic Haskell move,” Jesper said sagely. “D’you think he’ll be a good fit, at least?”

“That’s to be determined.”

“Whatever you say.” Jesper crammed the rest of his croissant into his mouth and dropped back down to the floor, nudging the pastry bag back in Kaz’s direction. “Give this to the newbie if you’re just gonna let it go stale.”

Kaz snatched up the bag and set it behind the counter. “Wash your hands, Jesper.”

He was met with a wink and a dazzling smile as Jesper saluted him with a chocolate-frosted hand. “Will do.”

Next chapter

Read it on wattpad and ao3

A/N:

uh oh! it's the beginning of my lowercase titles era. i very much lifted this title (and the names of all the chapters) from the new fall out boy album. please be supportive of my brave and groundbreaking choice.

this fic has been spinning in circles at the back of my brain since i read pyrrhlc's "latte art," and it's already like 14k words long as of when i'm posting the first chapter. i'm going a little bit crazy. i work in a bookstore and i love bookstores and i also love kaz brekker, so of course i'm going to make him work in one, too. of course i am. welcome to retail, motherfucker.

man, it sure is weird that wylan van eck is working at a bookshop. what's all that about?

[lavenderdreams205]

Forgive me if this doesn't make sense but

Dean understands himself. He is not drowning in internalized homophobia. He doesn't not know that he's into men. What Dean is, however, is a liar. He lies to everyone, all the time. I think this touches on the queer experience in a way we dont always see in media. We always talk about coming out and coming out scenes but why never talk about why we come out. It's because of how difficult the lying is. But deans lied about everything, all his life. Not just about his sexuality, or things related to hunting. But he lies (directly or by ommission) about the music he likes, the clothes he likes, literally everything, just to fit into this box of what everyone expects him to be. He understands himself, you just don't have the critical thinking skills to see past his lies, you take his word at face value even though the show has told you repeatedly that dean is a liar

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

it’s just that endverse!castiel and demon!dean would match each other’s freak. kind of tragic they never met

[mischieviem]

Lesbeams

[casdeans-pie]

Dean asks Cas to teach him Enochian.

So Cas teaches him Enochian.

They sit together in the bunker - chairs next to each other, elbow to elbow, books spread out around them, and Dean learns the language of the Angels from his own.

Dean makes quips about Cas being his teacher, and offhandedly asks what he can possibly do to get extra credit.... Cas looks at him with complete and utter incomprehension while Dean has an internal meltdown at how that came out without meaning it to.

Dean's actually very focused when he has a goal - so he studies and he reads and he's genuinely a good student. He practices his pronunciation (which Cas has said 'is fine' but said it with the expression of someone in pain, so he knows it sucks) while he's cooking or in the shower, and Sam remarks more than once how Dean could have gone to college.

Dean still gets frustrated when he can't remember a certain word too many times, or can't wrap his head around a specific turn of phrase, but he also kind of loves it when he says something and Cas smiles with amusement at what he's said. It dawns on him that he's the one speaking strangely in Cas's language now, instead of the other way around.

The first time Dean speaks in almost fluent conversational Enochian he is so proud and pleased but Cas looks like hes going to throw up, and Dean thinks he must have got something wrong again. He doesn't know that Cas is having to physically hold himself back from immediately exiting his vessel and shattering every window in Lebanon with the force of his joy.

[saturnneedsspace]

Dean misremembering the purgatory portal scene is altering my brain chemistry in so many ways. What do you mean Dean remembered it as him not being able to save Cas because he wasn't strong enough, but in reality Cas let go??? We know he remembers some things perfectly like when Cas went into the lake because he had nightmares about that, but how many other things does he misremember? Does he remember Mary dying? Does he remember all his fights with Cas? Does he remember all the times Sam died? This was such a missed opportunity to do more. They could've made Dean even more traumatized by having him misremember something for so long, and then him having to learn it was completely different and having a whole crisis about it.

[lovealwayssay]

I would pay an ungodly amount of money for a Supernatural finale where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty and tells him he loves him too, Eileen comes back to be with Sam, and Jack chooses to live with the four of them in the bunker as a happy family.

[th30ra3k3n]

“i can do it myself.” person a:

“i know you can, but let me.” person b:

[rainydrawstuff]

I realized many fics end with them living in a cabin and I just had to. This was loosely inspired by this fic by @museaway <3 endverse + happy ending >>>>

[supernaturalfreewill]

Your eyes were wide, terrified, and your breathing was ragged. You couldn't believe what—who you were staring at. "You're—you're dead. I saw you die. You were dead," you stuttered. "What the hell is this?"

Cas took a step toward you, his cobalt eyes soft and concerned, his hands in front of him in a show of good will. "I was. But now—I'm not."

You stepped back as he stepped forward. Your heart was screaming for you to believe him, but your head was yelling that it was impossible. "No—no, you were dead!"

"Y/N—it's me. Somehow, I was resurrected. I don't know how myself. I was gone. But now I'm back..."

You felt as if your knees were about to buckle. Tears stung in your eyes. Your heart was starting to beat out your head... "Is it—it can't really be—"

He took another cautious step forward. More than anything, he wanted to feel you in his arms again, press you against him, but you were still stunned staring at him with wide eyes.

"If it's really you, tell me something—tell me something only you would know," you said suddenly.

Cas nearly smiled. This would be easy. He knew everything little thing about you. He never forgot a single thing you told him or that he noticed, consider it an angelic super power. "You never liked Sesame Street as a child. You thought it was too loud. Your favorite tea is Wild Sweet Orange. You always sleep in socks, even in hot weather. Your first pet was a floppy-eared black bunny named Midnight. And—" another step toward you, "—the first time I kissed you was on that case in Kentucky, underneath the wisteria, and when I pulled back completely terrified, you grabbed me and kissed me again. And ever since then, I've never wanted to be parted from you for a single moment."

A tear broke out and ran down over your cheek. Your lips parted and though your eyes were still wide, they were less fearful. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"I know," Cas said, nodding. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. But, somehow, I'm here now and—"

He didn't need to say anymore, couldn't in fact, because you were kissing him. And it was almost as if no time had passed. You fell into each other the way two kindred souls do.

Prompt: "You're dead. I saw you die. You were dead!"

[samsno1]

Flowers

Castiel x GN!Reader

i love his eyes. that's it, that's the tweet. guys...this is very sweet but i don't know if i'm satisfied?? tell me what you think, writing castiel is very hard, lawd

Summary: In a hunt, a flower appears over your pillow after you come back to the motel room at night. Who left it there?

Warnings: FLUFF, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, i pictured s4/5 cas in this, use of y/n, sweet confession, NOT PROOF READ, that's it? english isn't my first language

WC: 2.5k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

When you started hunting with Sam and Dean one of the last things you expected to encounter was an Angel, especially after discovering they aren't “harps and halos" like in the books you read as a kid, but instead soldiers and sometimes assholes.

Castiel was an exception to the “asshole” part, he was actually very sweet when it came to you and the boys. Helped you, saved you and cared for you. In that sense, Cas was just like the Angel stories, a guardian of the humans he was in charge of.

And for you, it was fun teaching Cas about humans and how they behaved, helped him when he didn't understand Dean's pop culture references, got him to watch classic movies and listen to music and he was always very keen into doing so, curious and intrigued in what you explained to him.

Those big blue eyes always gave you his full attention, sometimes with that little frown that you started to call “The Angel Frown” while he questioned you about something that, to you, was basic knowledge. You were always as patient as possible with him, always clarifying what you could in words he could understand and that ended up always making him come to you for help.

In conclusion, you and Cas got closer and you started to catch yourself staring when he wasn't looking, admiring his smiles, drowning into his sapphire eyes and wishing that he had just more doubts about how people acted so you could spend more time with him.

You knew, from what Castiel told you, that Angels and feelings, human feelings at least, weren't compatible and that things such as love and romance weren't truly a reality for him and his siblings, they were warriors after all, created to serve their Father and that was it. 

Even when Castiel rebelled for the Winchesters, letting go of the “I don't serve men” mindset was difficult but you, Dean and Sam were there for him. You were more understandable then the brothers because you knew Cas was trying his best.

And because you fell for the Angel, but nobody needed to know that.

One night you arrived at the motel room you were staying at, after waving goodnight to Sam and Dean, them going to their separate room.

You opened the door and sighed deeply in exhaustion. It had been a long day of questioning and more questions appearing then those answered. At first you guys thought of a vengeful spirit, then cursed object, then witch. All of those possibilities were still up and it was driving you three insane. People were dying and you felt useless.

Once you closed the door and threw your stuff in the closest table you turned to your bed, where your bag was placed to get some clothes to take a well deserved shower. But, when you looked at your pillow, you noticed a single pink flower sitting over it and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You approached the flower slowly, skeptical about it, your hunter instincts telling you this wasn't good news. You slowly reached for it, as if it could bite your hand off, and picked it up. You analyzed the plant, very confused and grabbed your laptop.

You searched until you found a flower similar to the one you were holding and learned it was a Camellia. You looked between the screen and the flower and you searched up what a pink Camellia meant because, as much as you knew, flowers weren't really something you looked into.

What you found was shocking. According to the internet, a pink Camellia represents admiration and appreciation and Camellias and general represent love and affection. You widen your eyes at the flower in your hands, looking around your empty room as if someone would pop up and explain what this was doing at your bed. Wrong room?

You couldn't think of anybody that could give you this willingly. It definitely wasn't Sam or Dean because, first, they spent the whole day by your side and, second, unless they meant it platonically, the boys didn't see you like that. You loved them and they loved you, of course, but, to them, you were like a sister Dean loves you like he loves Sam, the same way Sam loves you like he loves Dean and vice-versa.

The only person that came to your mind was…No, it couldn't be, he said himself, love for him was basically unachievable but you couldn't help but wonder, even if your rational brain said it was stupid to think Cas would mean that. You smiled at the flower, that tinge of hope lightning inside you.

You looked around the room to look for something you could fill up with water and found an empty beer bottle. That'll do.

You washed the bottle to get the smell of alcohol off and filled it up with water, placing the little flower inside.

The pink color of the petals clashed with the transparent green of the bottle and you smiled at that. It looked cute in a way. You thought, even if this didn't come from someone you knew, you were keeping it, at least the flower.

You left the makeshift vase in your nightstand and took your stuff to the shower, peeling off your suit and your tie on the way, leaving it on the ground as you locked yourself inside the bathroom.

In these moments, Cas thanked his abilities of becoming unseen because you arrived just as he was leaving the Camellia over your pillow. He spent the day researching flowers, finding an interest in how humans always gave them to the people they cared about or to the ones who passed. He wanted to give you one to show you that he cared for you and also as a thank you for being patient with him for a long time.

He always felt happier around you, a warm feeling inside him always seemed to bloom. He felt the need to be close to you, like you were a human magnet. Everytime you looked at him he felt a weird feeling in his stomach, your smile was always something he felt the need to chase, he wanted to see it always in your face. He admired the way your eyes would shine when you were talking about something you liked.

When he saw you placing the flower on the nightstand with a smile he felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. He would do anything to see that look on your face again.

That hunt lasted a week, taking you three too long to figure out it was a witch and even longer to find said witch and to say you guys were fed up was an understatement. 

For that long week you dared to say you missed the Angel, you thought about calling him, praying to him, multiple times but what were you going to say when he arrived? Missed you? I just wanted to see you?

Everything you thought sounded too intimate so you discarded the idea of calling him.

But two more flowers appeared on your pillow after that pink Camellia. A Peony that you learned meant for the Chinese something along the lines of “the most beautiful” and a stunning Carnation in a light red shade that represented admiration. At this point you were very intrigued about who was the one giving you the flowers, Castiel still on your mind. You didn't want to get your hopes too high, you were probably overthinking it anyways, making your heart speak louder than your brain.

You were lying on your bed, staring at the tiny bouquet of three flowers given piece by piece to you. It was your last night in that room, Dean having insisted he needed the sleep so as to not crash the Impala from tiredness. You had offered to drive as you weren't as bad as he was but, of course, that was an immediate no from the older brother so all of you settled for one more night.

As you close your eyes and start to fall asleep, a sudden flutter of wings gets your attention. It's dark in the room so you take a peek and for sure it's Cas. You hold back a smile and close your eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

You feel the Angel approaching the bed, his presence making your heart quicken in your chest. From what it sounds like, he's just standing, watching you and you start to feel very nervous.

Castiel on the other hand arrived to see your sleeping form and couldn't help but watch. You looked peaceful, your breathing was calm and you looked…pretty. Cas thought all his father's creations were wonderful but he felt like you could top them all, literally, in your sleep.

He had another little flower in his hand which, to him, had a very self-explanatory name, a Forget-Me-Not.

He spun the blue flower on his fingers, debating if he should leave it inside the vase or besides you, over your pillow. 

He approached you and while he was placing the flower next to your head he felt a gentle hand wrap around his wrist and instantly froze on the spot.

You opened your eyes and looked at his near-horrified face. You smiled at him.

“Got you” You said, a little above a whisper and looked at the flower he was holding. That one you knew the name and what it meant and you felt warmth spreading through your cheeks, not just at that one flower, but knowing now that all those flowers you received came from Cas.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you” He said as he retreated his hand and you held the Forget-Me-Not. He was tense, not looking at you.

“So you were the secret admirer leaving me these flowers?” You asked as you slowly sat up on the bed and placed the blue flower inside the bottle with the three others. You placed both your hands over your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “Why?”

He looked around. What was he supposed to say? Himself barely knew why he was doing this but it felt right so he kept going with it. He noticed that the flower meanings resembled things that he felt or thought of you and he enjoyed collecting them for you, especially after you kept them.

“These flowers all have a meaning behind them” He started “Take them as a thank you for…being helpful with my understanding of human behaviors” 

You smiled stupidly at that. The way he said it sounded like something he had rehearsed before coming to you to say it, the words too polite. But yet, that's one of the things you liked about him.

“You didn't have to Cas…They are beautiful, thank you” You said and looked at the flowers again, biting your lip. You felt his eyes on you, it was always intimidating. You knew that it was just the way he was, look right into your eyes while you talk to show you had his full attention, his beautiful blue orbs hypnotizing.

Cas analyzed every aspect of yours as you sat in front of him, his eyes wondering over your figure and his hands moved faster than his thoughts and he reached for your shoulder, his palm traveling from your shoulder blade to the end of your upper arm and back up, tracing a pattern over your skin. He longed to touch you and be closer to you in a way he couldn’t explain so, in this moment, you both alone, he decided to fulfill this wish.

You widened your eyes and looked up at Castiel who was entranced by the movement of his hand, goosebumps flaring up on your skin.

“Cas?” You said and acknowledged your call with a hum “What are you…?”

He finally looked at you, his hand steadied on your shoulder.

“When I’m around you I always feel this need to touch you, be closer and this…” He shakes his head, finding a word to define how he felt. “Warmth comes over me everytime you smile”

His eyes bore through yours and you could only stare back at him, shocked.

“Cas, you’re saying–”

“I think I might love you, Y/N” He interrupted. The way he said it sounded like a confusion, a slight approach, as if he was tiptoeing around the thought, not sure if he wanted to grasp it or just keep his distance.

You were dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere and your heart started to beat faster, his hand over your shoulder felt like it was burning through your skin. It all made sense, the flowers, the way he was always keen on talking to you even when you did most of the talking and he just listened with a faint smile and pure interest, he just didn’t know because he never felt like this before, he didn’t know what loving was like.

You landed a hand over his cheek, your eyes practically watering with an emotional overload at his words. You thumb rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and you pulled him in for a hug. You wanted to kiss him so bad but you were on a baby steps basis with the Angel.

You hugged him tightly, his hands hesitantly wrapping around your frame as you let out a deep breath. When you pulled back, you didn’t pull away completely from him looking between his eyes and his mouth, a giddy smile on your face.

“I think I might love you too Castiel” You said and he widened his own eyes, a light chuckle coming out of you at his reaction.

Your chuckles were cut off by his lips on yours and you gasped in surprise. His mouth was as soft as you expected, his lips moving against your in perfect sync. He was impressively a good kisser, one of his hands gently holding at the back of your neck while the other slid down to your waist.

You felt like a bomb had exploded inside you, a foreign feeling of happiness spreading to every single cell on your body as your arms wrapped around his neck to hold yourself when he sat on the bed, pulling you over his lap, making you yelp.

You both pulled away, your arms still wrapped around each other and he had a light smile on his face. You one hundred per cent had a shocked look on yours, your cheeks hot and breathing heavy.

“Where’d you learn that?” You asked, absolutely knocked by the kiss.

“Dean told me a thing or two” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh, your body shaking against his as he also chuckled. “It seems like I did great?”

You stopped your laughs and looked in his eyes, drowning in their ocean blue. You gave a peck to the corner of his mouth.

“You did amazing” You said as one of your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled you in, the warmth spreading through both of you yet again, never wanting to let go.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.

[v1ntagecassette]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik, Kaz Brekker & The Crows Ensemble, Kaz Brekker & Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey Summary: A familiar face turns up at the bakery. Kaz broods on his way to work. A staff meeting is crashed.

[bloodydeanwinchester]

soooooo incheresting. i just watched a video that counted all the times dean said cas and castiel through out the series and it kept a count of the castiel's separate. he said castiel a total of 16 times throughout the whole series and SIX of those times were in season 6!!!! and every single one of those in season 6 was dean praying to him. which notably none of the other castiel's were part of a prayer. god dean is just like....pining for cas so hard in season 6 and after they stopped the apocalypse it's like castiel just drifted so far away from him and he got all powerful again and dean KNOWS that something is going on with him but cas is just keeping him at such a distance (because he's trying to protect him from everything going on with heaven's civil war). so suddenly when dean's praying even when he's making a joke of it (which is often) he's saying castiel instead of cas.

[angelsdean]

whenever i think abt misha saying he didn't start playing cas as in love with dean until s15 i am like. that man is a Known liar who lies