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#cas fanfiction
casdeans-pie · 6 months
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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.
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todayontumblr · 2 months
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Wednesday, January 24.
Expect Pie.
The Big 4-5. Forty-five years young. Born on this very day in 1979, and ticking over quite nicely an ample 45 years later. Whatever you do today, and however you spend it, we trust it will be full of fuzzy cowboy hats, burgers and cakes and Led Zeppelin songs, a rejuvenating day at the spa, and maybe even a homemade card. Perhaps a day off from death. 'Tis the very least you deserve. 
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lanevra · 4 months
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hollybell51 · 1 year
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Don't bet on it
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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader
Supernatural (2005)
Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)
Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.
Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.
Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.
Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…
“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 
There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 
“(Y/N)?” 
Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 
“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 
Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 
“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 
“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 
He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 
You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 
“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 
“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 
“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 
Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 
You smiled. “Lemonade.” 
He nodded slowly.
“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 
He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 
“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 
“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 
Despite yourself, you laughed. 
Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 
You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 
“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 
“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 
“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 
You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 
“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 
Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 
Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 
“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 
“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 
“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 
You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 
But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 
“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 
“It is.” 
“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 
“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 
“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 
The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 
You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 
“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 
“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 
“No, we’ve got two singles.” 
“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 
“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 
“I know, but–” 
“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 
“What’s that supposed to–” 
He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 
You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 
By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 
“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 
Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 
You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 
“Would you like some help?” 
You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 
He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 
“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 
“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 
Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 
He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 
“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 
“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 
Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 
“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 
“Should I keep going?” 
You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 
“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 
“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 
He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 
“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”
Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 
You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 
“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 
He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 
His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 
Oh. Oh. There it was.
He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 
Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 
He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 
It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 
It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 
You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 
“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 
“Hm?”
You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 
“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 
He looked up, frowning. “What?” 
“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 
He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 
“Is this alright?” he asked. 
You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 
“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 
You nodded. “Are you?”  
He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 
Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 
“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 
“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.
“Hm?” 
“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 
“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 
He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 
Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 
You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 
“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 
“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 
“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 
He nodded. 
You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 
“Please,” he murmured. 
You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 
Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 
Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 
“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 
“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 
You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 
At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 
You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 
He stared. “Do you want to?” 
You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 
Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.
His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 
Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 
A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 
“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 
Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 
You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”
“Touch me?” 
“Mhm.”  
He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.
“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 
You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 
It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.
“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 
“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 
You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 
His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 
He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 
“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 
“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 
You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 
“But?”
“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 
His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 
“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 
“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 
“Mhm?” 
“Are you sure?” 
“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 
“Yeah, alright.” 
“Alright?” 
He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 
You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 
Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 
“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 
“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 
You smiled. “Magic word?” 
“Please,” he practically growled. 
Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 
“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 
“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  
“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 
The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 
“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 
You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 
“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 
“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 
“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 
For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 
He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 
You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 
Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 
As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 
Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 
“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 
“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”
“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 
He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 
Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 
“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?
You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 
He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 
“Is this alright?” he asked. 
You nodded. “Mhm.” 
“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 
“Mhm.” 
“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 
“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 
“I want you to feel–” 
You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 
“But I’m–” 
“Cas.” 
He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 
“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”
He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 
“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 
This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 
“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 
Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 
“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 
“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 
“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 
He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 
“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 
“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 
“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 
“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 
“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 
“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 
“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 
He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 
It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.
And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 
“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 
Cas froze immediately. 
“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 
“Is this not–” 
“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 
Cas frowned.
“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 
His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 
“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 
Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 
“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 
He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 
“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 
“I don’t want to squash you.” 
You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 
“How do you know?” 
“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 
He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 
You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 
“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 
“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 
You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.
You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 
“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 
“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 
He swallowed, his eyes dark. 
“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 
He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 
You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 
Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 
“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 
“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 
“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 
He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 
He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  
“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 
Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 
“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 
“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 
You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 
He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 
You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 
“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 
“Hm?” 
“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 
“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 
You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 
You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 
You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 
When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 
He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 
“What’s wrong?” you asked. 
“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”
Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 
After a moment, he nodded. 
It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 
“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 
Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 
“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 
You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 
“Should I not have?”
“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 
“You don’t?”
You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 
“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 
You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”
You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.
“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 
“Hello.” 
You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”
He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 
“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”
“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 
You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 
“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 
“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 
“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 
You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 
He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 
“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 
“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 
You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 
“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 
“What do you want?” you growled. 
“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 
“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 
He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 
You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 
He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 
“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 
“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 
“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  
“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 
“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 
You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”
Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 
“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 
“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 
You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 
“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 
Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 
“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 
“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 
Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 
“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 
He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 
Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 
“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 
“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 
Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 
“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 
“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 
Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 
“No? Who else?” 
Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 
Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  
“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 
It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 
“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 
“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 
“No, I mean–” 
You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 
“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 
“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 
Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 
“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 
Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 
“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 
“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 
You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 
“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 
You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 
“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 
“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 
“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 
Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 
“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 
“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 
You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 
“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 
Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”
3K notes · View notes
anteroscastiel · 8 months
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I was just think that, what if, in maybe season 5, Cas picked up on how a man's wife or girlfriend kiss them goodbye as a send off to a war usually. And maybe Cas decided to kiss Dean goodbye one time and, Dean made a joke about it and maybe said A pat on the back would've done fine, and that's all that comes of it because kripke thought it would be funny.
Then, maybe, skip ahead to season 12 or 13 and it still had never been brought up because it was just a joke, a bit. And maybe Dean and Cas are alone in the bunker kitchen, sharing a beer and Dean says, I'm thinking about 2010. And Cas says Why and Dean says Remember that time you kissed me goodbye? and Cas says Yes that was very embarrassing for me, and Cas thinks of leaving because he's not ready for this, he'll never be ready for this he thinks. And theres a bit of silence before Dean says I think about that a lot. And Dean is not looking at Cas, he's just staring at the counter, and Cas doesn't say anything. They finish their beers and Cas says Me too. Dean goes to bed and Cas goes for a drive and maybe he cries a little and maybe Dean does too because they know they won't bring it up again, at least, not for a long time.
848 notes · View notes
i4butcher · 3 months
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Flowers
Castiel x GN!Reader
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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!
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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.
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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.
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A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.
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way2geeky · 4 months
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Human - Castiel x Winchester!reader
warnings - dean being mean, cute Cas, fluff, slight angst
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Cas leaves wordlessly his head down, his heart hurt. I stand in utter shock starring at Dean. "What?" He asks, I scoff and push him, "you just kicked away Cas!" I start to beat at his chest with every word, "after everything he has done! All the times he saved our lives!" He tries to push me away, but I start to kick him. It takes Sam to pull me away and come in between us to stop me.
"Y/n you got to calm down." I try to tackle him, but Sam beats me and catches me. "You bastard!" Sam puts me down and I leave the room in a huff grabbing me go bag. "Where are you going!?" Sam asks following me to the garage, Dean close behind him. "To help my friend, I'm not giving up on him because he lost his grace."
Dean now scoffs looking down at me, "oh, please you're only following him, because you're in love with the guy, admit it."
"I don't know what you're talking about." I answer trying to keep my voice steady. "Oh, come on, we see the eyes you give him. You love him and now that you have nothing to look at, you're throwing a fit."
I sigh and look at dean somberly, "you know Dean you are acting just like dad. What the hell happened?" The tension in his face loosens looking at me and shock and hurt. I turn toward my truck and drive off without a second glance.
I drive down the road and I see Cas walking down the gravel road. "Cas!" I shout parking the car a few feet away from him. "Y/n?" I signal for him to come here. after a few seconds he finally makes it to the car sitting down in the passenger. "What are you doing?" He asks noticing my go bag at his feet. "Cas, you don't know what you're doing. You don't know how to be human. I don't know what's up Deans ass but I'm helping you."
He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, "you would do that?" I nod and but the car in drive. We head down the road, and drive to a small town in Kansas. Wathena, a mostly Christian town with one shit diner. They have an inn ran by the oldest couple known alive. Cas and I stay there, everyone assumes that we are a young couple. We don't correct them, when they say we look cute together we say thank you and move on. It has been six months and we have built a nice small life together.
Cas works at the general's store, and I work at the local library. It's a good life. Cas has made a lot of progress with being a human. He now knows that he hates original Cheetos but loves the hot ones. We sit together on our little couch watching an old comedy from the eighties that I used to enjoy.
I don't know how it started but every time Cas and I sit on the couch or, anywhere really, we cuddle. Nothing to crazy, I sit in the crook of his arm, and he wraps it around me. When we're sleeping, I sleep on his chest. A task he says is enjoyable, he likes nice dreams but not the bad ones. Which I find understandable. So here we are sitting together laughing along to the movie forgetting the outside world. If you didn't know who we are, you would have never guessed he used to be an angel and me a hunter. Just an awkward couple with bad social skills.
I look up at Cas admiring the scruff that has grown since he shaved this morning. Admiring the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed, how the way his nose scrunched up. He looks down at with a small smile. "You're staring?"
"sorry" I look away fiddling with me fingers, he hooks his pointer finger under my chin bringing it up to him. "I didn't say stop." He leans in closer, and I move back slightly. He stops immediately and sighs closing his eyes tightly. "Y/n I'm sorry, I got lost in the moment. I'm sorry."
"No, Cas don't apologize. I just don't want to take advantage of you, or make you feel uncomfortable." He laughed opening his eyes, starring deeply into mine. He narrows and shakes his head slightly. "I don't think you can take advantage Y/n. Your heart is too big for that. I have admired you for some time now."
"You have?"
"Yes, even before all of this. I just, this has, made everything seem so much easier. Being with you. Having you, but I know this is just a moment and it will end." He whispers leaning in ever so slightly, "but if we seize the moment now, we can face the next one together." I finish leaning in as well. We meet in the middle our lips just hovering over each other's.
After half a second of thinking we move in kissing each other gently. Softly, sweetly, savoring every second we could take. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he wraps his arms around my waist. He falls back on his back bringing me with him. I lay on his stomach as we smile into the kiss. He brings his hand up and massages my hair, while the other tightened around my waist. A knock at the door interrupts us.
We pull apart waiting to see if they will knock again. They do harder, I look toward Cas and signal for him to stay. I try to get off of him to my gun, but he doesn't let me. He shakes his head 'no,' and mouths a 'please.' They knock again and I can't let anything happen to Cas. I peck in between his eyes; he closes them momentarily in bliss loosening his grip. I get off of him and grab my gun I stalk up to the door holding the gun behind it. Just in case it's the couple or something.
I swing the door open, and Dean turn ready to leave. Turning back to me with wide eyes. "Dean!"
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milk-artwork · 9 days
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Wip, not sure If ill finish it tho
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octoberclidan · 3 months
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You're Not Okay
Request: hiii can u do reader having a bad day and whenever sam and dean asks whats wrong shes just like "oh im fine" but cass notices everything and at the end of the day he just like comforts her and its just a lot of fluff? (reader x cass)
Pairing: Castiel x Reader
Masterlist
Story:
It was late at night, and [Y/N] was alone in the motel room. She'd just finished up a hunt with Sam and Dean, and while they'd gone out to a bar to celebrate, [Y/N] had hurt her foot and had hit her head, so she just wanted to rest in peace and try to ignore the pain. She also wanted to forget the image of Dean shouting at her to stop being so clumsy. He had a habit of snapping at her whenever she got injured on a hunt. She knew it was because he cared and was scared to lose her or see her hurt, but his words still stung anyway. She'd been watching TV when she'd fallen asleep on one of the beds that hadn't originally been hers, but after getting hurt, Dean had insisted she take it instead of her usual spot on the couch. Despite being annoyed at her, he still didn't want her to be in any more pain that she already was. She was tossing and turning, and her breathing was erratic.
[Y/N] was thrown against a wall, landing on her hands and knees on the cool concrete of the warehouse. Her ears were ringing and her head hurt, and her vision was blurry as she tried to look around the room for the witch. Someone was shouting at her - Sam? No, it sounded more like Dean. She couldn't make out what they were saying to her, but it sounded important. A dark figure was getting closer to her, and for a moment she thought one of the boys were going to help her up, but the figure was too short to be either of them. The figure mumbled something, and she suddenly felt a searing pain in her foot. She tried to grab it but she was once again thrown back against the wall. She looked up, and the figure was getting closer. She couldn't do anything. She couldn't move, she couldn't scream, she couldn't...
She woke up, sitting straight up in bed trying to catch her breath. There was a 'click' sound to her left and her head shot towards the door, only to find Dean walking into the room, Sam following behind him. "Morning", Dean smiled sheepishly at her as he shrugged off his coat. "How's your foot?"
"Hope we didn't wake you", Sam said as he flicked on the light to see where he was going. It was still dark out, so she figured it must still be very early. "Hey, are you okay?" He squinted at her as his eyes became accustomed to the light.
"Why are you sweating? It's not exactly warm in here", Dean walked over to her and felt her forehead, but she pushed his hand off.
"I'm fine, just tired. What time is it?"
"It's uh, 4:30am", Sam said as he walked over to her bed. "You sure you're okay? I can take a look at your foot, make sure it's not showing signs of infection", he said as he began to lift her covers up. She groaned and grabbed them back from him.
"I said I'm fine, I'm just tired, and it's still early so if it's okay with both of you, I'd like to get back to sleep. Okay?"
"Okay". Sam held up his hands in defence and stepped away from the bed, sharing a look of concern with his brother. "We're sorry for waking you". They decided not to push it and just get some sleep themselves. She felt a little bit bad for snapping at them, but the ache in her foot and head were getting to her. She decided she'd apologise in the morning, and closed her eyes to try and sleep as she heard Sam and Dean settle down.
Sam was already asleep in his bed and Dean was getting close to falling asleep on the couch when the door opened again. [Y/N] turned her head and felt a little rush of joy as Cas walked into the room. His eyes glanced over Sam and Dean briefly, but he focused on [Y/N]. She always felt her mood lift whenever Cas was around, there was just something about him that she found calming. He hadn't been around much lately, being busy with other things, but that just made it even more special when he was there.
"Dean told me you got hurt", he said as he walked over to the bed, concern filling his eyes.
"Apparently she's fine", Dean mumbled from the couch, not bothering to open his eyes while [Y/N] rolled hers.
"I am fine, just have a sore foot. Normal hunting injury", she shrugged but Cas' concern didn't lift. She didn't protest as he raised his hand to press his fingers to her forehead, and she relaxed as she felt warmth flow through her.
"You had a fracture in your foot, and you also had a slight concussion. That is not fine", he said as he sat down on the edge of her bed, his eyes boring into hers.
"Oh", she said, feeling a bit nervous under his gaze. "Thank you".
"You're welcome. You should sleep, I'll wait for the three of you to wake up later".
"Are you going to stay here?" She asked, hopeful that he'd stay, since she always slept better when he was in the room, though she'd never admitted that to anyone. She could imagine the teasing if Dean found out, or even Sam.
"No, I have to..." He paused when he saw her face drop, recognising her disappointment, something that he didn't like seeing. He pretended to clear his throat, a time-filler he'd picked up from Sam over the years. "I mean, yes. I'll stay until you wake up, I can do what I need to from here".
"I'll see you in the morning then", she smiled at he gave her a small smile back.
"Sleep well, [Y/N]".
***
After a couple of hours of sleep, the morning sun started to break through the motel's thin and moth-eaten curtains, stirring her. [Y/N] blinked her eyes open to find Sam stretching in his bed, and Dean already sitting up on the couch with a mug of coffee in his hands. Cas was sitting at the table, an old book laid out in front of him, but he was watching [Y/N]. He quickly averted his gaze when she looked at him, so to her, it looked like he was engrossed in his book. "Morning", she said to the room.
"Hey", Sam said as he stood up from his bed, heading to the bathroom. "Guess we're heading out back to the bunker as soon as possible? Unless we need to stop anywhere on the way back".
"As soon as the two of you are up and ready", Dean nodded at him. Sam nodded back before closing the bathroom door behind him. [Y/N] stretched, glad that the pain in her foot and head was gone. She pushed her covers back and got out of the bed to walk over to the counter beside Dean and Cas, which had a small coffee machine on it. She poured herself a cup and was about to sit down beside Dean, but he readjusted his legs at just the wrong moment and she ended up tripping over them, spilling the coffee on him in the process and catching herself on the couch.
"That fucking burns!" Dean stood straight up off the couch and pulled his now wet t-shirt away from his body and shaking it up and down to fan himself. "
"I am so sorry, I tripped when you moved your legs", [Y/N] said as she stood up, grimacing at Dean's glare.
"Dean, I can heal that", Cas said as he stood up from his seat, walking over to Dean with his hand out and ready.
"Yeah? Can you clean my shirt too?" He asked sarcastically. "This was my last one, I'm gonna have to drive while soaked and smelling of coffee. I'm going to stink up Baby now", he sighed as Cas healed the very small burn on his chest, something that probably would've healed on its own within a day or two.
"Maybe you can borrow one of Sam's?" [Y/N] suggested, but she was only met with another of Dean's glares.
"Maybe you can watch where you're going?" Dean mimicked her voice, mocking her.
"Dean, it was just an accident", Cas spoke up for her, but Dean just waved him off and left the room. "Are you alright?" Cas asked, turning to [Y/N]. She swallowed back a lump in her throat, she hated when someone she cared about was mad at her, but she nodded.
"Yeah, I'm fine".
"No, you're not, you-"
"Hey, Dean already out at the car?" Cas was cut off by Sam coming out of the bathroom. "What's wrong?" He frowned at Cas' concerned expression and [Y/N]'s attempt to sniff and clear her throat quietly.
"Nothing", [Y/N] spoke quickly before Cas did. "I uh, I spilled coffee on Dean's shirt, do you have any spare ones?" She asked and Sam went to his bag to rummage through it, pulling out a clean t-shirt and smiling at her, earning a relieved smile back from her. "Thanks", she breathed out, grabbing her bag and stepping into the bathroom to get ready quickly herself, not wanting the rest of them to be waiting too long for her. She took a deep breath and shook herself off, looking into the bathroom mirror. "Bad start doesn't mean you write it off as a bad day", she said to herself.
***
It was mid afternoon when they stopped at a gas station for Dean to fill up the car. "You want anything? I'm just gonna go in and find a snack or something", [Y/N] asked Sam and Cas while Dean was just about to turn off the engine. She was sitting in the back beside Cas, and the journey had been pretty quiet, all of them tired from the hunt and lack of sleep, well, except Cas. She didn't really want a snack, she just wanted a chance to be alone with Dean to apologise to him properly. When Sam and Cas both declined her offer, and Dean was closing his door behind him to head into the store, [Y/N] opened her door to follow behind him.
Dean pushed the door to the store open and stepped aside for her, ushering her in. She was in the middle of saying thank you, when she tripped over the small step in the doorway. She was about to brace herself for the fall when a strong arm hooked around her waist and pulled her back, steadying her. She turned around and looked up at Dean, finishing her 'thank you', but now meant for a different reason, and now with much more embarrassment. She mentally scolded herself for not watching where she was going, again, and especially in front of Dean. She expected another snarky comment from him, but looked up at him in confusion when he chuckled to himself as he let go of her. "You're okay. I'm uh, sorry for snapping at you during the hunt and also this morning. You know how I get when someone I care about gets hurt and I'm running on no sleep".
"It's fine, I deserved it. I do need to watch where I'm going. I wanted to say sorry for spilling my coffee on you earlier actually".
"Don't worry about it, forgiven and forgotton", he smiled down at her, and she smiled back, though it wasn't a smile that reached her eyes. "You okay?"
"Yeah... yeah I'm fine", she nodded. "I'll meet you back out at the car, I'm just gonna grab a snack". She parted ways with Dean and found a packet of her favourite snack, hoping that it would brighten up her day a little bit. She was feeling a bit useless, or more like a hindrance than a help to the team at the moment. It was really getting her down. She planned to spend a solid chunk of each day training until the next hunt. Maybe she could improve her balance, or her spatial awareness.
***
"Are you serious?" [Y/N] groaned, throwing head back in the car.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked from his place in the front, and Cas turned to look at her too.
"Look!" She showed both of them the packet she'd opened, the one she'd bought at the gas station. "These are supposed to be dry, not a... wet, soggy... whatever this is!"
"Is that mould?" Sam asked, crinkling his nose as he looked into the bag.
"I dont want to know what it is", she shook her head as she closed the bag.
"Don't even think about putting that down anywhere in Baby, put it in your bag", Dean warned her, catching her eyes in the rearview mirror. "We'll be back in an hour or so".
"I don't want this is my bag", she complained.
"Well it's not touching my car", Dean replied.
"I'll take it", Cas reached over and took the packet from her, holding it in his lap. "Are you hungry?" He asked.
"Not after smelling that... you don't have to hold it for me, Cas".
"It doesn't bother me".
"Well... thank you", she smiled at him, and he smiled back. He knew she wasn't having the best day, so anything he could do to make it better, he would do.
***
[Y/N] unpacked her bag when she got back to the bunker, and took a moment to sit on her bed. It was the evening at this stage, and although the day hadn't been the worst she'd ever had, it hadn't exactly been the best either. She was trying not to let the little things get to her, but she was finding it difficult. Cas was out in the library, researching something to do with a long-lost tablet that could be helpful with supplying energy to heaven. She had told him that she'd help once she'd unpacked, so once she had pushed her negative thoughts to the back of her mind, she stood up and made her way to the library.
She found him sitting at the desk, a pile of books in front of him, and pieces of paper scattered around the table. He looked focused, eyebrows furrowed as he read from a very old, very dusty looking piece of parchment. She stood in the doorway for just a minute, enjoying his calming presence, until he looked up at her, his concentration breaking. "Hello [Y/N], do you still have time to help?" He asked, and she nodded, stepping into the room.
"Of course, I'm free for the rest of the evening", she said as she walked over to him. Unfortunately, she brushed against a loose piece of paper that was hanging over the edge of the table as she went to pull out a chair. It caught against her hip and was pulled out, along with about thirty other pieces of loose paper that were lying on top of it. They all scattered across the library's floor, flying in all directions and spreading their dust as they settled. She stood there, looking at them, and sighed. No matter what she did, something had to go wrong. "I don't even know why I try. I don't know why you wanted my help, I'm the definition of unhelpfullness. No, it's more than that. I make everything worse", she said, gesturing to the fall paper. At her words, Cas stood up and walked over to her, grabbing her arms and looking down at her.
"That's not true", he said, and she chuckled, blinking back tears as she did. "You're not okay, you need to talk. You can talk to me, [Y/N]". He hated seeing her upset, especially at herself. "Will you sit with me?" He asked, letting go of one of her arms so he could tilt her chin up to look at him. He wiped away a stray tear that escaped. "Please".
"You're too busy for this", she shook her head, but he grabbed her hand and led her to a chair at the table. He took another chair and pulled it in front of her, sitting down so his knees touched hers.
"I'm never too busy for you. You will tell me what's wrong, I'll listen, and then if you want I can offer my advice. If you don't want advice, then we can just sit together". She looked up at him and took a shaky breath, but smiled at his offer.
"There isn't really much to advise on. I'm clumsy, I don't look where I'm going, and that just makes everything harder for the people I'm just trying to help", she shrugged, and looked down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers.
"Hey", Cas took her hands in his. His hands were warm and secure, and she instantly found comfort in them. "Everyone messes up sometimes. You, me, Sam, Dean... we all have our strengths and our weaknesses. You are a little bit clumsy, but you're also one of the most intelligent hunters I've ever met. Your plans succeed more than anyone else's. I also... uh", he looked away in embarrassment, and she furrowed her eyebrows at him.
"You also what?"
"I like that you're a little bit clumsy. It... amuses me. Or maybe amuses isn't the right word", he shook his head. "I find it... endearing. It's you, and I like you".
"Endearing?" She asked, her confusion now falling away and a smile pulling at her lips.
"Yes. I don't like it when you get hurt, of course, but if you had absolutely no faults then you wouldn't be you". He looked a little bit bashful as he spoke to her, now avoiding eye contact.
"Thank you, Cas", she squeezed his hands. "I've had a bad day but I don't feel so bad now". She smiled and he smiled back at her, glad she didn't look sad anymore.
"Come here", he said as he stood up, pulling her up and into a hug. She quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, and leaned her head against his chest. His arms held her close, and he stroked her back comfortingly. After a couple of minutes, he leaned back and she looked up at him. "Why don't we pick the papers off the floor, and then you can help me with my research?" He asked and she nodded. She was thankful for the nice end to her bad day, and to Cas for making her feel better about herself.
The end
Castiel Taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @hobby27 @angelwiththeshotgun @pizzagirlxnsfwx
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softhairedhotch · 5 months
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a lil drabble i wrote that doesn't fit any of the comfortember prompts <3
aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader
wc: 300ish words
content/warnings: first kiss, mentions of being drunk/alcohol, cute fluffy stuff :)
Aaron laughs and his whole face lights up.
"You seem... happier lately," you say, admiring him. He looks stunning in the low light of the kitchen, his eyes bright and face relaxed in a way you're not used to seeing. It makes your heart stutter in your chest. "It's good. Happiness looks... it looks good on you," you sigh wistfully, unable to stop yourself from speaking due to the alcohol in your system. "So good."
A light blush makes its way to his cheeks and he smiles wider. "Well, uh, thank you. It looks good on you, too."
You grin at him and he grins back, the two of you getting lost in each others eyes. Aaron inches forward ever so slightly and you follow suit until your noses bump together. He laughs, a sweet and innocent and wonderful sound, and it has you swaying, an intense joy coursing through your veins.
"Your laugh is beautiful," you whisper, before taking the risk and pressing your lips against his. He kisses back immediately, titling his head to press himself closer to you. "God, you're so beautiful."
He hums against your lips. "You're beautifuller."
"That's not a word," you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth and dotting a few kisses over his cheek. "How much did you drink?"
"Too much," he chuckles, placing his drink on the kitchen counter so his warm hands are free to hold your face gently and he can kiss you deeper. His lips move over yours in a way that has you feeling lightheaded and you have to hold onto his jacket to stabilise yourself. "How much did you drink?"
"Hopefully not enough to forget that this happened."
He presses a kiss against the tip of your nose with a laugh. "Trust me, I won't let you forget. I'm gonna be thinking about this for the rest of my life."
"Me too."
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luci-in-trenchcoats · 18 days
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Night Moves Timestamp: Moving Day
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Request: Hmmmm what about Night Moves? Or how soon before she asked Dean to move in with her?
Night Moves Masterlist
Pairing: AU!Dean x reader
Word Count: 600ish
Warnings: language
__________
“What are you doing?” asked Benny with a laugh, leaning against the back of his truck as you grunted. “I thought we told you to let us boys handle the heavy stuff.”
“I can help,” you said, reaching forward for the box again until Benny threw an arm around your waist and picked you up. “Benjamin!”
“Oh, somebody’s in trouble,” teased Jess, laughing as Benny carried you through the front door and out through the sliding door to the deck. “Not sure which one of you though.”
“Him!” you said with a growl.
“Deano will kill me if his girl gets hurt trying to lift that heavy old box,” said Benny.
“Oh my...why doesn’t Dean have scrawny friends!” you said, squirming a little as Benny carried you into the backyard, plopping you down at the shed where Dean was putting a few things away.
“Delivery service for Mr. Winchester,” said Benny, Dean poking his head out with a smile. “Watch this one.”
“I thought you were taking a break,” said Dean, crossing his arms.
“We’re almost done,” you said, swinging your arms around, spinning back around. You started to walk back around the house, Dean humming behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, Dean wearing a smirk. You made a dash for it and got to the front yard before he was picking you up, laughing as he spun you around a few times. He carried you around around the cars to see Benny and Sam carrying the box you tried to get.
“Oh, you tried to get that one? That’s got like a crap ton of books in it, sweetheart,” he said. “Put it in the office guys!”
“We better be getting pizza and beer after this one!” called back Sam.
“You moved like four boxes,” said Dean with scoff. 
“We moved your entire apartment!” said Sam.
“Pfft,” said Dean, waving him off. Jess poked her head outside, laughing at you again.
“Oh, now I definitely know you were the trouble maker,” she said. Dean set you down, giving you a smirk as you grabbed her hand and pulled her inside in your house. “So...how long before I get to be maid of honor?”
“We moved in together. We’re not engaged...yet,” you said.
“Uh huh,” she said. “I give him two more weeks.”
“He moved in because his lease is up and Benny’s place is too small,” you said, cocking your head at her.
“No, he moved in because he’s in love with you. A months tops before he proposes,” she said.
“Would you go figure out how much pizza and stuff I need to order, please?” you asked. She hummed as you headed outside again, Dean sitting on the trunk of Baby, staring out at the street. “Dean? You alright?”
“Is this too fast?” he asked, patting the space beside him for you. You climbed up, Dean taking your hand in his. “We’ve only been dating a few months and the guys today have made so many jokes and I know they’re just jokes but-”
“Do you love me?” you asked. Dean nodded. “Well I love you too. I don’t see anything wrong with two people that love each other wanting to live together.”
“But even the I love you’s came so fast and that’s not normal and-”
“And we met on a hookup with some backseat sex. Our relationship has never been normal and I don’t think we should judge ourselves based on what other people think,” you said. “If we’re good, we’re good.”
“I am looking forward to living with you,” he said, squeezing your hand. 
“Me too,” you said.
________
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strawlessandbraless · 2 months
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Just wondering if people new to Supernatural know about this crucial part of fandom history
There’s a conundrum of a fic called Cas Bakes Dean a Pie by pleasedonttalktome on fanfiction.net, it’s a relic but well worth the time
A fan animated the fic and created this beloved video, it’s truly something to behold. Strap in
youtube
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casdeans-pie · 8 months
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Dean and Cas go on a solo hunt and it goes entirely to plan - it's like everything they do works out perfectly, they have some insane luck, and they solve the case and save the day without anymore casualties or injuries.
Dean is a little confused over how well it went, because their track record isn't usually that squeaky clean easy-breezy, but he's buzzing at the easy hunt either way.
and Cas is like, well it IS Thursday.
????? What does it being Thursday have to do with anything?? Dean says, fond.
So Cas explains that he's the Angel Of Thursday, of course. so he's extra lucky and things just always naturally go his way on Thursdays.
and Dean has to take a moment. has to hold up his hand and take a moment. because. because this whole time. if they'd have had Cas with them on hunts. on Thursdays. they'd have all been this easy???
Cas considers this and is like, I believe so, yes. isn't it strange that I've never been along on a hunt on a Thursday before now :)
while Dean's whole world view has just shifted and he's figuring out how to tell Sam they can only ever go out on hunts on Thursdays from now on as long as they have Cas with them whilst simultaneously like, Angel of THURSDAY? The day? Thursday? What all the badass titles were taken when they gave you yours??
When Cas goes :( Dean has to reassure him that Thursday is a GREAT day actually. Best day of the week! And they spend the whole ride back talking about cool stuff that happened on Thursdays.
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stinkrascal · 3 months
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the proud members of the vampire's embassy
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hollybell51 · 1 year
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Last night on Earth
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^don't mind me going absolutely feral over this gif
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Cas x AFAB!fem!Reader
Supernatural (2005), s05e03 "free to be you and me"
Word count: 6.4K
Summary: following the hooker failure, you feel that sitting alone in a shitty abandoned house is not the best way to spend one's last night on Earth. Cas seems to agree with you.
Content: smut! Yay! First kisses, first time, making out, handjobs, hickeys, penetrative sex, safe sex (yay!), cowgirl, mutual masturbation, fingering, gags? if you squint? maybe? like a hand over the mouth. Discussions of sex work and sex workers (I'm not commenting on anything, it's just there as dialogue due to the nature of the episode, and all dialogue/internal monologue regarding the topic is purely for the furtherment of the plot). Talking during sex, Cas is loud. Sex on a couch, spooning, almost-love-confessions ("like-confessions"). Very light comment on body image, some very vague descriptions of scars (reader is a hunter). Cas is just Cas and I love him for it. He's also a virgin. Dean's probably a warning but I adore him.
Notes: Heyyyy how's it going? One day into my holidays and I churn out this bad boy. Couldn't get the idea out of my head, and hey, I'm a sucker for virgin angels. This show is rapidly taking over my whole life lmao.
It's also been a while so I just thought I'd remind people of the taglist form, and the existence of my AO3 (if you wanna read my stuff there for whatever reason). Anyways enjoy, stay safe out there xx
“That was quick,” you called as the door creaked open, Dean’s low chuckle echoing through the hallway. You closed the book you’d been reading – a shitty paperback you’d picked out of a bargain bin – and watched as the other hunter dropped his jacket onto a rusted dining chair. You’d expected them to be gone for a few hours, hence your foray into the realms of “downtime”, but it had barely been one since they’d left, Dean throwing an obscenely enthusiastic wink your way as he shoved an apprehensive looking Cas out to enjoy his last night on Earth. 
“We had to wrap it up pretty fast.” Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas, laughter still clinging to his face. You hadn’t seen him look that happy in ages, not for this long. Well, that was something at least. 
You’d had your doubts about the whole idea from the moment Dean had mentioned it. Sure, sex was sex. It was something that could be pretty darn nice and that you were glad for in your life, but you weren’t sure if Dean fully grasped that it was never the same with a hooker. It would never feel as good, it would never be meaningful, it would be a service purchased from a provider. A business transaction. That wasn’t any way to experience it for the first time, in your opinion. 
“Good time not a long time, then?” you asked mildly. 
“Would you say that, Cas?” 
The angel stiffened, hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat. 
You wrinkled your nose, suddenly wondering if you should feel bad. “Bad time?” 
Dean snorted. “I’m turning in. You tell (Y/N) about it, she’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you it’s alright. And don’t look so… grief stricken.” 
“G’night,” you waved to his retreating back, then turned back to Cas. “Really bad time?” 
He really did look grief stricken, standing stock still in the dimness. Even his hair looked droopier than usual, and you almost got out of your seat just to push it off his face. You settled for putting your book down and leaning forward. 
“She ran away,” he said after a moment. “I think I scared her.” 
“Geez,” you frowned. “How’d you scare a hooker?” 
He shrugged. “I told her it wasn’t her fault that her father Gene ran off.” Then, as if it explained everything; “He hated his job at the post office.” 
You laughed, but stopped quickly. “Oh, Cas. You know the whole–” 
“The whole industry is run on absent fathers, I know.” He sighed. “Dean found it hilarious.” 
This time, you did get up, crossing the room to pat his shoulder. You knew Dean wouldn’t have meant anything by it, wouldn’t have been laughing at Cas. Still, a pang of what was almost pity shot through you. It wasn’t about the sex, not really, as much as Dean played that aspect up. It was more all the coulds that never would. Cas wasn’t human, as much as he could pass it off (mostly), but there were so many things that he wasn’t going to get to try now. You just didn’t understand how he could so casually volunteer to die at the drop of a hat. It was either incredibly selfless, or incredibly selfish. Or maybe just stupid. 
But no, Cas wasn’t stupid. He was razor sharp, a soldier of God, even if you poked fun at him when he didn’t understand your and Dean’s pop-culture reference infused slang. It had only been the last time you’d seen him that you’d vowed to make him sit through all the Star Wars movies, something you hadn’t realised until afterwards had sounded a lot like a “movie and chill” proposal. Luckily, he wouldn’t have picked up on that. Just like he wouldn’t have picked up – like Dean had – the moments where you caught yourself watching him, or the smiles that were just too damned determined to break out on your face when he showed up – either in the real world or in your mind. And thank the heavens nobody but you noticed the tiny flurries of butterflies in your stomach you’d noticed increasingly often when he was around, the surges of warmth that would sneak up and rush over you unexpectedly when you thought of him, the tingles that flooded your skin when he stood that little bit too close to you.  
Which, when you thought about it, was maybe contributing to the ounce of vindication you were feeling regarding the hooker failure. It wasn’t all the “I told you so” type of satisfaction, anyway, and you weren’t too proud to admit when you liked someone. 
“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him now, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. 
“You’re giving me a pat on the back and telling me it’s alright,” he sighed, almost mournfully. “Dean said–” 
You reached up, pressing a finger to his lips and shaking your head. “You wanna know something?” 
He nodded, brows furrowed. He hadn’t drawn back, you noticed. 
“It doesn’t matter how much sex Dean has,” you whispered, hand still floating close by his face. “I wouldn’t take a damn letter of his advice in that department.” 
“Why not?” His breath tickled your skin, and suddenly you realised just how close you were standing. 
You shrugged, dispelling the shiver that had run up your spine. “I just know if a dude came onto me how he comes onto chicks, I’d kick him in the balls.” 
“I’ll make a point to not come onto you like he does, in that case.” 
It took a moment – past the words “like he does”, not that he wouldn’t come onto you full stop, but like Dean does – for the fact that it was a joke to sink in, then you smiled. Maybe there was, or had been, hope for him yet. You took a breath, turning the words over in your mind. It was now or never, you supposed. 
“I want you to know,” you said carefully, “if you die–” 
“When. Tomorrow, when I die.” 
“Uh, yeah.” You swallowed. How could he be so matter of fact about it? How could he just say it like that? It didn’t matter, you supposed. Whether he said it or didn’t, it wasn’t going to change the fact that it was happening. 
“When I die…” he prompted when you were silent. 
“I want you to know that I liked you,” you said simply, then shrugged. “I think I was on the way to really liking you.” 
He frowned, and for a moment you thought you’d made a massive mistake. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I don’t mind. I know I’m… a dick.” 
“Jesus, Cas,” you snorted. “Guess we say that a bit too much, don’t we?” 
“Maybe.” 
“And we don’t say ‘thank you’ enough.” 
He shook his head, still holding your hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he repeated.
“It’s not about that. Not all of it, anyway.” You smiled, glancing at your hand where it met his. It looked big, wrapped around your fingers, and it fitted painfully well. “But, you know, if it’s your last night on Earth…” You looked up, wiggling your eyebrows. You could play it off as a joke if you needed to, you weren’t too far in yet. 
That familiar almost-smile you’d come to look for danced over his lips. “You pity me, dying a virgin? Dying,” he added. “A virgin.” 
You laughed. “I don’t… pity you. Not exactly. Not because you’re gonna die a virgin, and definitely not because you’re a virgin.” 
“Because I scared away a prostitute?” 
“Her loss,” you laughed. “And anyway, if it’s your first and last time, it’d be nice to… y’know… feel good.” 
He frowned. “Surely a prostitute would know how to do that?”
“Maybe the technicalities,” you shrugged, “but there’s more to it than that. There’s feelings, y’know?” 
“Feelings?” 
Again, you shrugged, suddenly self conscious. What were you doing? “Two way street kind of thing,” you explained lamely. “Not just someone you want, but someone who wants you. Not just your money.” You were acutely aware of the unspoken words floating beneath the casual sentence. I want you. It could be me.
A pause, where his eyes seemed to bore into your soul. He had a knack for that, you’d noticed. Sometimes you felt like he could see right to the very core of your being. In the dimness, they looked even more startlingly blue than usual. He was so close, you could almost count his eyelashes, almost feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath the coat, jacket, shirt, tie… 
“When it’s…” He paused, his tongue darting over his lips. God, his lips. “Someone you want.” 
“Mhm.” 
“Someone who wants you.” 
“Mhm.” 
“Not just your money.” 
You hadn’t taken your eyes off his mouth through the whole exchange, and your voice, when you asked, sounded softer than you’d meant it to, breathy and faint to your own ears. “Do you want me, Cas? Last night on Earth, and all.” 
The corner of his mouth curled up, brows twitching into a thoughtful frown. No, you thought, not quite a frown. Something else, more curious than confused. Almost quizzical. “I think…” He paused, drawing breath. “I think I do.” 
“Ok,” you smiled, ignoring the butterfly rampage taking place in your stomach. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. Not your life, anyway, even if it was Cas’s last night on Earth. It didn’t exist outside the pages of those shitty paperbacks. 
“Do you want me?” Cas asked. 
“Mhm.” It was all you could manage, really. Then you were stretching up the last few inches between your face and his, pressing your lips gently against his own. 
He was perfectly still for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, almost three. Then his hand tightened around yours and he pulled you closer, trench coat rustling where your chest met it. He kissed you the way you remembered the first boy who’d ever kissed you – a boy in your year level at school, at a party, playing spin the bottle no less – had kissed you. The want was all there, the enthusiasm and anticipation and the only half-conscious desire for more. His lips remained shut, but you could feel in it that he knew it wasn’t quite right. 
You pulled away briefly, just enough to raise a hand to his mouth and run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Like this,” you murmured, pushing just enough to part his lips. Then your hands were in his hair and you were pulling him down to you, and this time it was perfect. 
He made a little sound of pleasure as your tongue slipped beside his, stroking, caressing, gently as you could. Without any guidance, his hand had found the cloth-shielded contours of your breast, tracing the outline with a sort of awe. His fingers ran along the neckline of your top, dipping under the material, curving around your bare shoulder, exploratory and cautious. 
You let him explore you, his hands mapping out every curve he could touch, tongue darting into every uncharted depth he could find, tasting and learning and discovering parts of you you hadn’t guessed could be felt like this through just a kiss. Your mind spiralled as his hand eased under your shirt, cool fingers tickling the skin of your hip. He squeezed gently, pulling you against him harder, and you gave in completely. You weren’t sure if it was what he had been going for, but when you pushed your pelvis against his he gasped; a quiet, shuddering little sound that went straight to your panties. 
“Ok?” you breathed between kisses, then, at his nod, you did it again. 
His voice was strangled when he said your name, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Oh Cas, you thought. A rush of affection washed over you at how eager he was, where just an hour before he’d been being literally pushed out the door by Dean, looking as terrified as you’d ever seen him at the prospect of sex. Now he was kissing you hungrily, kneading at your skin, inching your shirt up off your torso, his feet at risk of tangling with yours as he walked you backwards. Not to mention the increasingly noticeable bulge pressed against you. 
“Clothes off,” you breathed, already undoing his tie. “On the couch.” 
He paused, then he was shrugging off the trench coat, the blazer following suit – no pun intended – and landing with a soft rustling thump on the floor. You stepped back, just a little, as he deftly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, drinking in every inch of skin like a kid in a lolly shop. Fuck, maybe you had the hots for him even worse than you’d thought. 
“Are you going to undress too?” The question was mild, matter of fact, but something in the way Cas had paused midway through relieving himself of his pants and was watching you, hands still on the belt buckle, made you stomach flip. 
You cleared your throat, but your voice still came out too low, too husky. “Sure.” 
His gaze didn’t leave you for an instant – apart from when he kicked his discarded trousers aside – as you pulled your shirt the rest of the way over your head, slid your jeans as gracefully as you could down your legs. You shivered slightly in the cool night air, acutely aware of your hunter’s body. 
Cas’s eyes widened, scanning over you and taking in every inch of your skin. It wasn’t perfect, you were aware of that. It wasn’t like a hooker’s body, it carried you around as you fought monsters, and was littered with the proof of said monster fights. You wondered if Cas had seen other – normal – human bodies like this, if he’d find the painfully obvious reminders of your mortality somehow repellent. You suddenly felt very, very small and very, very human. 
“Sorry about… y’know…” You shrugged, patting your thigh awkwardly. “The meatsack’s a little dinged up. Most people don’t look like this.” 
“Don’t look like what?” he frowned, finally looking back at your face. 
You shrugged again, poking a long white scar over your side. The first werewolf you’d ever come face to face with, and nearly the last. “Scarred. At least not as much as I am,” you added. 
A shiver shot up your spine as Cas settled his hands on your bare waist, fingers running over the most noticeable marks. “Don’t apologise,” he said softly. “You’re human, and you spend your days killing monsters. It would be more disturbing if you were unblemished.” 
You laughed at that, a small breathy sound. “You think I’m disturbing?” 
He smiled faintly. “You’re not so bad.”
You felt your own mouth curve, matching his. “Neither are you.” 
He leaned down, his lips meeting yours once more. This kiss was softer, more intimate, maybe a little too intimate. You were vaguely aware of the couch behind you. Before your knees knocked against its side, you broke away – a difficult task, given that Cas chased your lips like a lab rat after cheese – and spun, laying your hands firmly on his chest. 
“Couch,” you muttered, giving a gentle push. 
He pulled you with him as he sat down, his hands running down over your hips, your thighs, back up again to your waist. He watched you carefully as his touch slid up the centre of your torso, over your bra, lingering momentarily on the anti-possession sigil tattooed over your heart before he moved on, across the line of your ribs. Unbidden, the memory of the last time he’d touched you there sprang to mind; the sharp, burning pain and throbbing after-ache of the Enochian sigils being literally carved into your bones. 
“I can see them,” he whispered, as if he’d read your mind. “The sigils.” 
You raised an eyebrow. “How do they look?” 
“Foreign,” he said after a moment. “They don’t belong.”
You shrugged, unsure how to respond to that. Sure, the sigils weren’t part of you, and you didn’t exactly know how you felt about angel writing being carved into your ribcage, but there was also something reassuring about knowing it was there, knowing you carried that kind of magic with you. In you. 
Cas’s eyes lifted from your body, fixing on your own. “Can you feel them?” he inquired. 
You shook your head. “Not really. Not physically. But I know they’re there.” 
“Perhaps I should have asked,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s your body, after all.” 
“No,” you smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I kinda like the idea of you scribbling on me. Bone graffiti.” 
“Bone graffiti?” 
You felt the smile grow, nodding. “Besides,” you added, “I’ll always have a little bit of you, even after you're gone. Like a… souvenir.” 
“Oh,” was all he said. You supposed people were right about impending death making people sappier. But still, what you said was true. Your own ribs had become a kind of lucky charm, a talisman, a locket of sorts. 
You dragged yourself out of that line of thinking before you went any further, turning your attention back to the angel currently underneath you on the couch. Underneath you and very shirtless. You’d placed your own hands on his chest in an attempt to not fall over on top of him, and now you let yourself touch him – really touch him. His chest heaved under your fingers as you swept over him, a tiny, strangled noise falling from his lips. 
“Alright?” you asked, pausing for a moment. 
He nodded, shifting slightly under you. “It’s good,” he said softly. 
“Keep going?” 
Again, a nod. Cautiously, gently, you spread your fingers over his chest. His heart beat fast, thudding frantically as you moved your other hand lower, down the centre of his torso, following the contours of his lithe muscles. You reached the waistband of his underpants, pausing. 
“Can I?” you asked, your hand hovering over his barely concealed erection. 
“Yes,” he whispered, tongue darting over his lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your hand, back to your face again. 
You smiled as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. His dick was hot to the touch, hard and already damp at the tip. “You ever touched yourself?” you asked as you withdrew your hand, spitting into your palm. 
Cas’s breath hitched. “Once.” 
“Yeah?” 
He nodded, licking his lips again. “Dean said I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.” 
“Yeah, well…” You smiled again, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking languidly. “You can tell me.” 
He gave a sort of half gasp, half moan, his grip tightening on your thigh. “I found Dean’s magazine,” he confessed. “The one with the women, not the cars.” 
“Mhm?” You kept your voice mild, focussing on the steady motion of your arm and wrist, your fingers sliding effortlessly over him. You could almost see Cas flipping through the pages of one of those god-awful porn mags Dean insisted on carting around, picture his confused little head-tilt and his frown as he looked through the pictures, his hand creeping to where yours was now, his much larger fingers circling–
“It was uncomfortable,” he continued, jerking you back to the present. “Too hot. I really just wanted it to go away.” 
“And did it?” 
“Not until I– oh!” He broke off as your thumb slid over the leaking head of his cock, fingers digging into your thigh. 
You fought off the surge of heat the sound sent shooting through you, watching his slightly parted lips, his wide eyes. “Did you cum?” you asked evenly. 
“Yes,” he panted, hips twitching up slightly. “Oh, (Y/N), yes–” 
“Yes, you did cum?” 
“Yes, yes I did.” 
“Was it good?” 
Another soft moan, then he smiled. “Not as good as this.” 
Maybe it was the praise, maybe the moan, maybe the smile. Either way, the words went straight to your panties. You ignored it, stopping yourself from grinding against him with willpower that would have impressed Jesus. Although, you weren’t sure how he would have felt about you fucking a literal angel. 
You leant forward, kissing his lips gently, then his jaw, then his neck, then his chest. You kept going, tracing a path inexorably downwards, shuffling backwards to straddle his thigh as he shifted with you, now splayed along the couch lengthways. 
“Help me out,” you muttered, your hand moving beside your face as you attempted to pull his underwear off. Obediently, he lifted his hips and kicked them aside, the muscles of his stomach twitching as you placed a kiss on the junction of his hip. And holy shit, you could have just watched his torso moving like that forever. You kissed his hip again, sucking gently at the spot, licking over the mark you conjured. Then you added another beside it, and another, and another. A little belt of hickeys across his pelvis. 
“Do you, hm, touch yourself too?” he asked, breathless and raw. 
“Fuck, Cas.” You paused where you’d been about to kiss the base of his cock, raising your eyes to his. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell again, the skin almost glowing in the dim light. 
He frowned. “Am I not supposed to ask that?” 
“You can ask me anything you want,” you assured him, kissing the little trail of hair below his belly button. “And yeah, I do.” 
“Does it feel good?” 
You smiled. “Yeah.” 
“Do you…” He paused, searching for the words. “Do you want to do it now?” 
“This is about you,” you said softly, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about me.” 
“I want you to feel good too.” 
You sat up, studying him. There was nothing by sincerity in his eyes, the genuine desire – and desire there was – for you to enjoy yourself. And why shouldn’t you indulge that? You were having a great time as it was, and there was no denying the throbbing ache that had grown exponentially between your legs. 
“You want me to touch myself?” you asked, double checking. 
He nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Ok.” You shed your own underpants, shivering as the cool air came in contact with your wetness. Slowly, you reached down and ran your finger over your clit, your breath hitching in your chest. You repeated the action, your hand moving further down to circle your entrance, slick gathering on your fingers. You’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t ashamed of it. Masturbation was natural, it was a perfectly normal perfectly human thing to do. This, however was different. You’d never had an audience before, never had anyone watch you with such rapt wonder and awe. 
Cas’s eyes flicked down to your bra, then back to your face. A question, almost a request. 
“Off?” you asked, already reaching behind your back. He nodded, watching carefully as you shed the garment and cast it aside to join the pile of clothes on the floor. Slowly, reverently, he stretched up and kissed your breast, his hand leaving its place on your hip to trace over the other one. 
A shiver ran down your spine and you bit down on your lip, attempting futilely to stifle your moan. Absently, your hand resumed its place between your thighs as Cas’s hand left your chest and found its way to his cock. You’d never in a million years have thought you’d be where you were now; touching yourself on top of an angel touching himself while he did his best to turn your chest into one giant hickey. You were hardly complaining. 
Something rustled in the next room over, and you both froze. Fuck, you thought. Dean was still (hopefully) asleep, only the wall and the hastily closed door to that room barring him from hearing you. Cas seemed to have had exactly the same thought, his head tilted slightly as he listened, his breath raising goosebumps on the spit-damp skin of your chest. There was another rustle, then a quiet snort, then nothing. He hadn’t woken, then. 
“We gotta be quiet,” you whispered. You shifted, biting back another moan. “Ok?” 
“Ok,” Cas nodded. He pressed his lips firmly together, eyes flicking down to where your hand disappeared between your legs. You hissed as you resumed your movement, acutely aware of every possible sound you or Cas made, ears pricked for any other disturbance from nextdoor. 
Cas’s free hand was still resting on your thigh, firmly holding you in place on top of himself. His wrist brushed your own with every stroke of his cock, the skin over his stomach and chest twitching ever so slightly. His own thigh tensed as he thrust into his hand, something that you could only describe as a whimper falling from his lips. Heat surged over you, your mind awash with desire. If only that hooker knew what she was missing. 
“Sorry,” he muttered almost immediately, eyes darting towards the door. 
“‘Salright,” you replied, swallowing hard. Being quiet was a much more difficult task than you’d anticipated, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the possibility of being caught just a little bit. You grunted softly as your finger brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, the familiar rhythm and movements working just as well as ever, and even better when you had Cas to look at. Not to mention the warmth of his mouth where it occasionally found your breasts again. 
But you wanted more, you needed more. The same part of you that was electrified by your own touch craved his, especially when his beautiful hands were right there and his eyes were still fixed on you like you were the centre of the universe, his own movements becoming faster and more frantic, chest heaving. 
You paused, much as it pained you. “Do you wanna go further?” 
He frowned. “What do you mean?” 
Gently, you laid your hand over his and peeled it away from his cock. Wriggling forwards a little, you finally – finally – rocked your hips over his, revelling in the hot hardness of him against your slick. His mouth fell open, fingers tightening on your own. 
“Here, Cas. I want you inside me, wanna fuck you properly.” 
“Oh, (Y/N),” he sighed, his own hips matching your movement. 
“Will you let me? Let me fuck you?” 
“Yes,” he nodded. “Yes, of course.” 
You smiled. “Ok, one second.” You reached over the side of the couch, digging through the pockets of your jeans until you found your wallet – and the little foil package inside it. 
“What are you doing?” Cas asked as you tore it open and set the latex atop his dick. 
“It’s a condom,” you explained. “So I don’t get pregnant. No offence,” you grinned, “but I don’t really wanna have your babies any time soon.” 
“Oh.” He swallowed, processing. “That’s… understandable.”
“All good?” At his nod, you slid the condom the rest of the way down, spitting into your hand once more and resuming your earlier ministrations. “It feels a little different, I know,” you whispered as you moved to grind against him once more. 
“It’s still good,” he assured you, placing his hands gently on your hips. 
You smiled. “Ready?” 
“Yes.” The word was a breath, nothing more, but it was all you needed. Carefully, you lined him up and sank down, watching his face carefully. His eyes widened, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as a deep groan reverberated through the space between you. 
“Gotta be quiet,” you reminded him, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked. “Don’t wanna wake Dean up, yeah?” 
“Yeah,” he echoed, “quiet.” 
You leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss on his lips, rocking your hips over his. He was everything you’d imagined and so much more. It was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. You wanted to go back in time and kick your past self for having waited this long. 
“God, Cas,” you sighed. “Oh God.” 
His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stretched up and captured your lips with his, moving down over your jaw to your neck, sucking gently just as you’d done to the skin of his hip. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close against you as you lifted and lowered your hips, a faint whine somehow slipping from your lips despite your best efforts. 
“Is this, hm, ok?” he asked, his usually gravelly voice made even more so. 
“Fuck,” you gasped as his hand came to rest on your ass, kneading at the soft flesh, moving up over the front of your hips where your leg met the rest of your body. “So good, Cas.” 
“You’re so good,” he murmured, guiding your movements gently. He thrust into you, his hips meeting yours halfway, stomach muscles flexing.
“Let me,” you said, pushing him backwards into the couch cushions. “You relax, yeah? I’ve got it. I’ve got you.” 
He nodded, head tipping back as you bounced on his dick, the rough fabric of the cushion beneath you scratching at your knees. Fumbling slightly, your hands found purchase on his chest and you locked your elbows in an odd sort of imitation of CPR. If CPR was done from the front rather than the side, you supposed, but you weren’t exactly doing any resuscitation. 
His chest heaved under your touch, another low groan seeming to echo in the otherwise stillness of the night. The tiny part of your brain that wasn’t totally consumed with the wonderful pleasure-ache of his cock hitting deep inside you and the burn of your thighs was torn between telling him to be quiet and just listening to him, but then he was licking his lips again and his mouth was falling open and you were lost. 
“(Y/N),” he panted, his eyes fixed on your face. “Oh, (Y/N), oh my–” 
“Alright?” you asked, biting back a moan as you found a particularly good angle. 
“Yes, yes, of course. It’s, hm, so good.” He glanced momentarily down at where your body met his, another groan rumbling in his chest. 
“Sh–” you whispered, half tempted to press your hand over his mouth. Or maybe your own, given the struggle you were facing to remain quiet yourself. 
“Sorry, sorry I–” 
You cut him off quickly. “It’s alright Cas, you’re fine. Just, fuck–” 
“(Y/N),” he panted, the muscles of his arms and stomach flexing as his fingers gripped the couch cushion, luminescent in the dimness. Again, his eyes flicked downwards, this time to the soft mound of flesh currently on display. 
You smiled, reaching down to take his hand, drawing it up to rest over your pelvis. His skin was warmer than you’d ever felt it, faintly clammy and God his hand was big under your own. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d caught yourself picturing his hands in this kind of context, and you didn’t want to try. His fingers splayed over your skin, moving with you, covering the whole space below your naval. 
“That’s where you are,” you panted. “That’s where I can feel you, Cas, right there.” 
A small, strained noise you could only describe as a whine. “Is it, ah, good? Do you like it? Do you like feeling… me?” 
“Fuck,” you sighed. “Yeah, sure do, Cas. Do you like feeling me?” 
He smiled, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Of course. I like it immensely.” 
You felt yourself clench at his words, and this time you were unable to restrain the downright pornographic moan that tore from your throat. Any other time, you might have been embarrassed, but Cas seemed to like it. Pressing your lips firmly together, you glanced hastily towards the other room, but as far as you could tell there was no disturbance. 
“(Y/N), oh, (Y/N), I don’t think—” He swallowed hard, eyes wide and back on your face. 
“Yeah? What’s wrong?” 
“I can’t— I don’t think I can be quiet, (Y/N) I—”
Affection bloomed alongside the desire in your gut, and you had half a mind to tell him it was alright, he didn’t even have to worry about being quiet at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t love the noises he was making. But Dean was only one room over, and you didn’t want to wake him. 
“You can, Cas,” you breathed, “you can. You’re doing so well already, we just gotta— fuck.”
He’d bucked his hips up into you, the movement jolting the steady knot of pleasure forming low in your stomach. He was close, you could see it as much as hear it, but the thought of the thin walls and your friend sleeping in the next room over had taken root more firmly in your mind now. 
“It’s so much,” Cas gasped. “Oh, oh, (Y/N) it’s so much—”
You managed a smile, slowing down your movements a little. “I know,” you said softly. “You’re ok, yeah?” 
He nodded frantically. “Hm, yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Keep going, please—” 
Another soft moan slipped from your mouth, Cas’s answering groan enough to make your legs shake. It was too loud, and any other time you’d have soaked up his praises and curses and everything, but not now. After a moment’s hesitation, you clamped your hand firmly over his mouth, sh-ing him gently. If possible, his eyes widened even further and he groaned against your skin. 
“Alright?” you breathed. 
Another frantic nod, an almost-whimper as your grip firmed up. Well I’ll be damned, you thought vaguely. Who’d have guessed he was into that? 
You felt him shiver all over as you continued to rock your hips over his, his hand where it rested on your hip tightening. You wondered if you’d have finger-shaped bruises later. It didn’t matter, you told yourself as he moaned again, his stomach muscles tensing, something that could have been your name squashed under your hand. 
“Sh, shh!” you gasped. Between holy shit I’m so close and holy shit he’s so close, the thought that Dean was right there and would hear you was still rooted in your mind. “Cas, sh, Dean’s right– ah, fuck, Dean’s–” 
You broke off as Cas’s chest heaved, his hips bucking up into you once more. His mouth had fallen open under your hand and he was gasping something, angel curse-words, maybe? It didn’t matter, not when his eyes were screwed shut and his head was tipped back, your name sprinkled into the litany of foreign words like a prayer. 
The sight was enough to make the bomb that had been building in your stomach explode, sparks of pleasure shooting through your aching legs right to your toes and back up again. You might have said Cas’s name, you weren’t sure, but the sentiment was there. You clamped a hand over your own mouth, nothing but the need to be quiet reverberating through your pleasure-blanked mind. 
After what felt like an age, your brain managed to find its way back into your skull and the aftershocks of your orgasm faded from your body. Gently, you removed your hand from Cas’s mouth and looked down at him, smiling. 
“Alright?” you asked. 
His hair was a mess, his brow lightly beaded with sweat, cheeks flushed. There was even a slight red mark where your hand had been, which you stroked gently. 
“I’m more than alright,” he smiled, turning to place a tiny kiss on your fingers. “Are you?” 
“Good,” you nodded as you slid off him, mourning the sudden emptiness momentarily as you peeled off the condom, tying it in a neat knot to be disposed of later. Then he was lifting his arm, wriggling with you as if he could read your mind, and you were being cocooned against his body. 
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “if I was too loud.” 
“You weren’t,” you assured him quickly. “Not at all. Sorry about… gagging you. I should’ve asked. That’s not what usually happens.” 
He hesitated, turning to meet your eyes. “I… didn’t mind.” 
“No?” 
He shook his head, a small, nervous smile dancing across his lips. “No. In fact, I quite liked it.” 
You felt your own smile widen as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, taking his hand where it rested on his chest. “Good,” you said. “What about  the rest? What do you think?” 
He sighed, a beautifully satisfied noise that flooded you with warmth. “I think I should not have waited this long.” 
You laughed, pressing closer. “Mhm?” 
“Mhm. Thank you, (Y/N), truly.” 
“Oh,” you said softly, turning away to hide the blood rushing to your face. “That’s ok, Cas. Thank you.” 
He gave another little hum, shifting to drape his arm over your waist and pull you into him, fingers skimming your ribs. Getting spooned by a divine warrior of God, you thought with a thrill. Real life really was stranger than fiction. 
“You’re tired,” he murmured, his voice seeming to rumble through you in the best way possible. “You should sleep.” 
“Hold on,” you protested as you felt his arm withdrawing. You grabbed his hand, pulling it firmly back down to rest on your stomach, wiggling closer. “There was a blanket on the back, grab that. I’m staying here.” 
You could almost feel him frowning when he replied. “You’d not rather a bed?” 
You only hesitated a moment before bending to kiss his arm. “I’d rather you.” 
He didn’t seem to know quite what to say to that, but after a beat something heavy and slightly scratchy was being draped over you, and Cas’s arm was tightening around your waist, and his lips were pressing against your shoulder. 
“G’night,” you whispered. 
“Good night, (Y/N).” 
It was Dean who found his two friends curled together on the couch the next morning. He snorted, taking in the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders in tandem with Cas’s, his hand enveloping your smaller one where it rested just above the blanket, the assortment of what was very clearly Cas’s suit and your own clothes scattered over the floor. Well, he supposed, the night hadn’t been a complete failure. He had half a mind to throw something at you, the scene was so jarringly… sweet. 
“Rise n’ shine lovebirds,” he called instead, “we’ve got shit to do.” 
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lebanon-wip · 3 months
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Cas has it 😭😭😭
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