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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Let Me Down Easy

Summary: As you’re hunting a witch, you end up catching her at Chuck’s house. He recognizes you from his visions, but you’ve never met him, and to thank you for saving his life, he offers you to stay at his place instead of at a crappy motel. (Part 1/?)

Pairing: Eventual Reader’s choice (Prophet!Chuck x Reader OR Sam x Reader)

Word count: 1456

Warnings: none for the moment

A/N: There’s not enough Chuck out there, so here’s my little contribution. Though if you want it can also be a Sam contribution! Also, on an unrelated note, if you are American and because of the result of the elections you are legitimately scared for your and your family’s future, know that people around the world are thinking about you and genuinely care about what happens to you. You are not alone.

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You were on a hunt alone; you’d just parted ways with the Winchesters. You could’ve gone on together a little more, but when you told them about a witch you’d been tracking for a while, Dean made it very clear he was sure you had it handled.

So there you were, staking out what you were pretty sure that was the witch’s new place in the middle of the night. She had a habit of leaving town when she was, uh, done, so this time you knew you had to catch her before things escalated.

Something on the other side of the street caught your eye. The house opposite hers’s door was opening. Squinting, you tried to make out the silhouette. You were pretty sure she was the one leaving, which was not a good thing. You tried to get out of the car silently, which seemed to work. Not taking your eyes off her, you plunged your hand into your duffel bag, trying to latch onto one of the cloth-covered jars you’d prepared in advance.

You had to strike fast, before she would see you. Partly hidden behind your car, you started taking aim as she walked down the driveway. You would’ve wanted to yell something at her, to let her know you were the one that was taking her down, but that was precisely what had screwed everything up the last time around.

So you swiftly lit your lighter, set the jar on fire and threw it onto her. You saw her froze and shriek as the fiery projectile was almost upon her, before it landed and she exploded into a cloud of smoke and blood. Great.

You walked to the puddle of blood, cursing under your breath. From your duffel bag, you pulled a big bottle filled with a white liquid; Bobby had given you a recipe-spell that made blood dissolve if it was poured over it. So you started pouring, and looked up to see if there was anyone else out on the quiet suburban street. That’s when you saw him: the man whose house she had come from. He was just standing there, frozen, staring at you. Even better.

After you were done pouring the content of your bottle down his driveway, you made your way to him. Except that instead of stopping and talking to him, you continued past him into his house, since he had left the door open behind him. You walked around, trying to find the kitchen.

“Uh, hello, hi,” he called out after you, his voice obviously nervous. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, but if you could just-” he stuttered, before you cut him.

“Did she give you any food?” you asked him, turning around to make eye contact with him.

“What? Uh, yeah, it’s in the freezer,” he hesitated, before something in his face lit up. “Wait, I-,” he paused, “I know who you are!”

“I really doubt that,” you replied, opening his freezer, having turned back around.

“No, I really know, you’re a hunter aren’t you? You’re Y/N , right?” he insisted, and you froze.

You were crouching in front of the freezer, so you slowly lowered your hand to your boot, where you kept a silver knife, while turning your head to look at him, for real this time.

He wasn’t very tall, and didn’t look very intimidating, but if there was one thing you’d learned, it was not to trust the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“How do you know that,” you asked, detaching every word, trying to sound just threatening enough, because you knew you didn’t necessarily look intimidating either.

“Okay, this is going to sound very weird, but I’ve had visions of you,” he started, looking like he wasn’t sure which words to choose.

Having slid the dagger up your sleeve, you stood up slowly, trying to even out the situation if you’d have to fight him.

“I’m a, uh, prophet?” he hesitated, and you were about to lunge forward, not believing a single word he was saying, before he shouted “Wait!”, understanding what you were getting at. “Call Sam and Dean! They know me!”

At that, you stopped in your tracks. The fact that he knew the boys was either a very good or very bad thing. Still on edge, you pulled out your cell phone. “What’s your name,” you asked him while the phone was ringing.

“Chuck,” he answered, uneasy. “I swear I’m not dangerous,” he added, smiling nervously like he could tell you didn’t trust him yet.

On the other end of the line, Sam answered, and you could hear the faint sound of the Impala’s engine in the background.

“Hey, Y/N , what’s up? Did you get the witch already?” he asked, and you smiled at the sound of his voice.

“As a matter of fact I did,” you answered smugly, but then you reminded yourself you weren’t calling to gloat.

“Wait, already? Looks like you really didn’t need us afterwards,” he replied, impressed.

“Looks like it,” you laughed. “But that’s not why I called. Do you know anyone named Chuck?”

He stayed silent for a few seconds.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t expecting that. Yes, we do know a Chuck. How did you find him?” his voice was a little more tense than it had been previously. You also thought you heard Dean say ‘Oh god’ when he mentioned the name.

“I’m in his kitchen. I’m pretty sure the witch was after him,” you replied, and you saw Chuck’s eyes grow wide at your words. “He says he knows me, though. Says he saw me in a vision,” you add, your tone carrying your disbelief.

“Yeah, I guess that could be true,” Sam replied, sounding a lot less concerned than you felt he should be. “He’s a prophet. He’s usually tuned into us though, he probably saw you while we were hunting together. Anyways, he’s a good guy. Not dangerous at all,” he concluded.

“Alright, you owe me an explanation some day, but thanks for now,” you replied, not needing anything more.

“Anytime,” he laughed. “Take care of yourself, Y/N ,” he added, before hanging up.

You closed your phone, taking a second to digest the information. When you looked up, you smiled at Chuck.

“Alright, well, Sam says you’re good. Nice to meet you, Chuck,” you say as you extend you hand to him, grinning. As far as you were concerned, you had no reason not to trust him anymore.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N ,” he smiled, noticeably less nervous now. “So, uh, what was that you said about a witch targeting me?” he asked. Okay, so perhaps he was still a little bit nervous.

“Nothing you need to worry about anymore,” you answered, crouching back to his freezer drawer. “We do need to burn the stuff she gave you, though. Basic precaution,” you added, fishing out tupperware containers that clashed with the frozen pizzas and ice cream tubs surrounding them.

He took you to his backyard, which was in desperate need of a good mowing, and you both watched the food burn in silence. Deciding it was becoming a little but awkward, you spoke up.

“Sorry for just barging into your house, earlier” you apologized, sincerely despite your joking tone.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. You were doing it to save my life, after all,” he replied, chuckling a little.

“So I’m curious, how exactly did you meet the Winchesters?” you asked, genuinely intrigued.

“It’s a long story really,” he sighed, and while you thought he would elaborate, he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts.

“I see,” you said, trying not to let your disappointment show. It really wasn’t any of your business, after all. “Well, I should probably get going,” you added, dreading the idea of having to find a half-decent motel nearby, where you would get a half-decent four hours of sleep before taking off again.

“Oh, okay,” he said. “You don’t have to, though,” he said casually, making you raise an eyebrow. “I mean, I’ve seen the motels were you hunters sleep,” he chuckled, “and if you want, since you’ve saved my life and everything, I guess I could let you sleep in the guest bedroom,” he offered with a friendly smile.

You didn’t say anything outright, a little speechless, but definitely considering his offer.

“I’ve got clean sheets, more than enough hot water for two people, and I guarantee there won’t be suspicious noises in the walls,” he added, seeing that you weren’t answering.

“I guess clean sheets couldn’t hurt,” you gave in, smiling at the prospect of a clean, comfortable bed. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” he laughed.

A/N: Tell me if you want to be tagged in upcoming parts!

#chuck x reader #chuck shurley #sam x reader #spn x reader #sam one shot #chuck oneshot #spn one shot

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Cold Champagne

Summary: The apocalypse is coming to an end and you know you’re basically going to lose everyone, because unlike your friends you’re not a key player in this story. But, before it all gets ripped from you, you just want to spend some quiet time with your friends, and tonight it’s Castiel’s turn.

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Word count: 1410

Warnings: fluff, angst (I think?)

A/N: If you read this and recognize what it’s (very closely) based on, 1) you’re awesome 2) you get to pick the next reader insert I publish (any character, just no wincest or destiel please. I wouldn’t be comfortable writing it but if that’s your thing you do you honey, I’m not here to judge) Also shout out to my shower for being the place where I come up with these.

The sun has set; the stars are almost out now. You shake the blanket as you lay it on the grass, under what would be the shadow of branches if it were still day. You’ve parked your car not very far away, but it’s still out of sight; all you can see is the river, further down, and the darkening sky ahead, the edge of the forest surrounding your spot.

When you’re done placing everything, you light the mosquito-repellant candles and satisfied, take a breath before starting to pray.

‘Cas?’ you think, and wait for something to happen. Nothing.

‘Cas, please, I need to see you,” you try again, this time being more insistent.

It takes a few seconds, but the familiar ruffle sound resonates and he’s in front of you.

“Hey,” you smile, glad he came.

“Hey,” he answers, disoriented. “Why did you need to see me? You don’t seem to be in danger,” he asks, looking around.

“No, I’m not in danger,” you chuckle softly. “I actually got you something.”

He turns back to you, slightly surprised.

“It’s more of a gesture, really,” you start, “I wasn’t sure what goes on upstairs, and I don’t know what you can keep with you or anything, so I figured a memory was a good compromise,” you say, stumbling on your words as you pull out a tall bottle from a cooler. “You don’t know how hard it is to find a good bottle of those in these parts,” you laugh nervously, seeing he’s not saying anything.

“I mean,” you continue, “I know you don’t really need to drink and a little bit of champagne won’t really affect you, but I’m pretty out of it to be honest and I don’t know, I thought the gesture would be symbolic,” you ramble, staring down at your feet.

“So you’re saying...” he starts, then pauses briefly. “You got me a symbolic gesture?” he asks, and you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess,” you laugh. “So, I hope you didn’t have any plans tonight, because I hoped we could spend some time together before... you know... It all goes down,” you say as you gesture to the blankets you set up on the ground. “A last hurrah of our friendship, if you may,” you add in a bitter whisper.

“That would be nice, Y/N ,” he says with a soft smile. “But you are aware that we will most likely meet again before the end of the apocalypse, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, I know, but it won’t be the same,” you explain, sitting down and patting the ground, inviting him to do the same. “Besides, before you go back up, I owe you a symbolic bottle of cold champagne,” you joke, winking at him.

“Why?” he asks, puzzled.

“For fighting the good fight,” you say point-blank. “For standing with us, despite what a lot of your brothers and sisters are doing. I know you lost a lot recently, and I just wanted to make sure you knew it’s all very appreciated.”

A look passes on his face, one you’ve never seen before. He seems... moved?

“You were always particularly kind to me,” he says, looking you in the eyes.

“Just pop the champagne,” you chuckle, handing him the bottle as you feel the slightest heat creep up to your cheeks.

“Do you have any glasses?” he asks as he starts fidgeting to get it to pop.

“Oh, tonight we’re drinking straight from the bottle,” you say as you look up to see the first stars beginning to appear above. There is a moment of silence before you ask “Cas?”

“Yes?” he answers, not looking away from the bottle which he can’t seem to figure out.

“Dean told me what you did for me,” you say in a barely audible voice.

You’re referring to the fact that he healed your sister’s leg. You and her have been in a rough patch for the last two years, and you’d heard through the grapevine that she’d broken her leg on a hunt, but kept on hunting anyways, which made you worried sick for her. You’d called her, trying to reason her to take a break, but it had only poisoned the situation further.

However, yesterday, Dean told you that almost as soon as you’d called her and that Cas had seen you so upset over it, he had popped in to heal her leg. He had never told you, and yet he might be the reason she hasn’t gotten killed.

“It’s honestly the sweetest thing anyone ever did for me,” you thank him, grabbing his arm to get him to look at you. “Is there anything I can do or say to possibly repay you?”

“How do you get this gold thing off?” he asks, now obviously struggling, his eyes still not meeting yours.

“Cas!” you say, wishing he’d take you more seriously. “I’m trying to tie any loose ends before the big finale, but you’re not helping right now. Look, before you go back to heaven indefinitely to sort through the mess up there, can we just have one nice memory to remember each other by? Before the world changes beyond recognition?” you ask, pleading.

He doesn’t say anything, still working on the champagne, growing more upset by the second.

“Cas, are you alright?” you ask, concerned.

“I’m fine, I’m just trying to open this champagne,” he sighs angrily. “The.. twisty thing seems to be broken, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Let me see,” you say, reaching for the bottle.

“No, I’ve got it!” he lashes, getting the bottle out of your reach.

“Castiel, drop the champagne,” you order him, desperate for him to snap out of it.

“No, you went through all this trouble to set up this nice-” he starts, desperate, before you cut him off.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you calm him down, putting your hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long few months,” he apologizes, looking down, finally letting go of the bottle.

“You know, you can probably use your angel powers for that,” you tease him, finally saying what you had been holding in for the past few minutes.

He looks at you, defeated. “How did I not think of that,” he groans and immediately a resounding pop pierces the night’s quiet, making you jump slightly, and both of you laugh as foam erupts from the bottle and starts sliding down his sleeve.

You both take turns at the bottle and eventually stop talking to simply stare at the stars. At some point you shiver, the night breeze colder than you’d anticipated, and Cas hesitantly puts his arm around you to bring you closer in an attempt to warm you up. You try to ignore the flutter in your stomach as you sit there, your head resting on his shoulder. In a moment of weakness, you close your eyes and let out the words you’d retained so far.

“You could stay, you know,” you whisper.

“What?” he asks, taken off guard.

“It’s not like we’ll have too many hands on deck to fix everything down here,” you let out, sitting up to look at him, but inside you’re yelling at yourself to stop talking.

“I can’t tell if you’re making a joke,” he says, looking at you making his puzzled face you’ve grown so fond of. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, you going back up there, it can wait,” you stutter.

“What are you trying to say?” he asks, his expression now unreadable.

“You’re leaving this world, and I’m never going to see you again,” you keep going, mentally cursing yourself.

“ Y/N , what are you trying to say?” he insists.

“You got us all used to you being around and then off you go,” you say, your tone bordering on accusing.

“ Y/N , I don’t know why you’re mad at me,” Cas pleads, catching your hands in his to get you to settle down.

“I wish I was mad,” you reply, your voice trembling.

Before you can catch your breath, Castiel’s lips come crashing down on yours, his hands going from your wrists to you cheeks as he pulls you in to his kiss. You’ve never seen the angel display so much desperation, which shocks you enough that for a moment you’re not moving. Soon enough, your lips start moving against his, equally as desperate, before abruptly pulling back.

“I’m just too late,” you breathe, evading his gaze as a single tear streams down your cheek.

#castiel x reader #cas x reader #castiel one shot #castiel fluff #castiel

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Okay so I just read your Make the worst seems better story and its so good omg! Just keep writing like that ^.^

Anon, you’re the best xx (seriously though thank you so much)

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Fun story: I met him two years ago at a comiccon and he was just so nice I wanted his autograph and at his stand, for only 10 more bucks you could get a pic with him instead of buying a photo op and I dunno if that’s standard or not but yeah he’s forever my fave I’m committed

List of people I want playing Lucifer's long term vessel:

•Mark Pellegrino

•Instagram user @markrosspelle

•Pellegrino, Mark

•the guy who played Nick in 5x01

•Mark Ross Pellegrino

•M A R K P E L L E G R I N O

•LITERALLY THATS IT

•NO ONE BESIDES MARK PELLEGRINO

#mark pellegrino #lucifer #supernatural #spn #comiccon

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Make The Worst Seem Better

Summary: Cas is jealous of you because since you’re a prophet, God speaks to you. However, His word isn’t quite rainbows and butterflies, and at some point you ask Cas to get you unconscious because every time you try to sleep a new vision disturbs you, and you just need your body to rest.

Pairing: Castiel x Prophet!Reader

Word count: 3779

Warnings: Swearing, Very light angst, Fluffy smut, Unprotected sex (you know the drill; use protection you guys)

A/N: This is my first smut piece so yeah, go easy on me please babes, also, my followers might notice I haven’t published in two weeks but I did have a week of midterms and then I needed to just do whatever for reading week so sorry about that but school comes first in my case :)

It’s late. A closer to sunrise than sundown kind of late. You’re in the bunker’s library, reading, trying not to fall asleep, dreading it. The Bible is open in front of you, but you're not reading, as your eyes keep sliding over the words without trying to make them out.

As you’re about to doze off, the bunker’s door loudly creaks open and startles you. Dean is the first to make his way downstairs, and as soon as he sees you out there, he muffles a curse.

“Damnit, Y/N , I thought we’d agreed you needed to get some sleep,” he patronizes you as he heads in your direction.

“Yeah, well, didn’t feel like it,” you reply with a dry laugh.

By then, Dean has pulled a chair near you and Sam and Cas are approaching you. Well, Sam is, Cas is more lurking behind. You two don’t get along all that well, even though it’s far from the whole hate-at-first-sight kind of thing.

“Are you reading the Bible?” Sam asks incredulously as he sits down.

“Can’t blame me for measuring my talents to my competitors,” you joke, “Or would you rather have me reading those Supernatural books you stashed in a nameless box in the garage?”

“Oh god please don’t,” Dean groans as he opens a beer he seems to have pulled out of thin air. He seriously keeps some everywhere.

“Guess you’re gonna have to start taking me on hunts again before I finish this old thing,” you tease as you close your Bible.

“You’re too weak,” says Cas, sifting through one of the bookcases without much interest.

“Nice to see you too, buddy,” you mutter, resentful it’s the first thing he’s said since arriving.

“He’s right, Y/N , we can’t bring you back out until you’ve gotten some rest,” admits Sam in a much more caring tone. “You know it’s for your own good.”

“Whatever,” you dismiss the topic, “how was the hunt?”

“Pretty standard,” answers Dean, “Cas almost got shived by a pageant queen,” he adds smirking at the recollection.

“It took me by surprise,” argues Cas with a bit of spite.

“Alright, well, I really need to shower, so see you guys tomorrow,” says Sam before standing up to leave.

Dean stays a little longer, to finish drinking his beer, and you chat with him while Cas stays retreated, though sometimes joining in your discussion. When Dean leaves after asking you to try and sleep yet another time, you expect the angel to zap out of there, but he lingers, still looking through the books.

You shrug, firing up a stolen laptop to finish laying down your latest vision into words. You don’t always know what to do with them, and ever since you’ve started to have them, which goes back to your previous life, pre-Winchester, it’s always felt natural to write them out. However, recently, you’ve started having them more often. Every time you fall asleep, actually. And they’ve gotten longer, which means more draining. It’s gotten to a point where sleeping for an extended period of time leaves you waking up to a reel of premonitions. You can’t stand it anymore.

At some point, you end up passing out from exhaustion on the keyboard. Instantly, as scene flashes before you. It’s a battle. Bloody, dark, and loud, in which demons and angel fight each other off with a drive you’ve never seen. The end of the battle is cruelly ironic; there is no winner. They’ve all killed each other for no tangible results.

You wake up instantly, sweaty and shivering, with a terrible headache.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter with resigned desperation as you massage your temples.

You feel miserable. The whole prophet thing has made you miserable. You hate being miserable. During the day it’s never so bad, but at night, your mind always wanders back to the same place: why did it have to be you?

“Was that it? Did you just get a vision?” Castiel asks you, stepping out of the shadows and making you jump in your seat.

“Holy shit, you’re still here?”

“Did you?” he insists, coming closer.

“Yeah, Cas, I did just get a vision, thanks,” you answer, your heart still pounding in your chest.

“I don’t understand you,” he says, now hovering over you as he seemingly refuses to sit down. “God speaks to you,” he starts before pausing, is brows furrowing. “And yet, you loathe your situation so much. You make yourself so miserable it affects you physically.”

He pauses again, and you stare at him in disbelief. The nerve of his statements has you riled up, and you grow more mad by the second.

“Do you know what I would give to be in you position?” he continues with a desperate and brief laugh. “Do you have any idea of how long I’ve been waiting, praying, looking for him? Fo a mere sign from my father? And there you are, receiving his actual word regularly, and you’re losing faith?”

“Hold up, angel boy,” you say, fuming. “First of all, he doesn’t speak to me, he speaks through me. Not sure you realize how big of a difference that is. His word isn’t exactly comforting, by the way. I just saw a massacre like I was there but I couldn’t do anything to help. And never mind that, what gives you the right to judge my faith and feelings? Whenever I close my eyes, I see violence, so sorry for not being the ray of sunshine you’d like me to be.”

He doesn’t reply, but not because he’s overcome with sympathy for you. He is still visibly upset, and simply holds on to a chair while looking away.

“Is this why you’ve always been so cold to me? Because you’re jealous you don’t get to talk to your Daddy? Because let me tell you, I’d give anything to stop believing. Hell, these visions are giving me a million reasons to bury my faith six feet under, but I can’t even do that, because how can I stop praying if I know, actually know for sure, my prayers are being heard?”

“You pray?” He asks, taken by surprise. “What for?”

“I didn’t use to,” you start, “But when it all started and I had to leave, I left some people behind. So I pray for them, for their safety. With all He’s put me through, he ought to at least oblige me in this, no?”

The energy in the room has changed. A weight has settled in the pit of your stomach, putting your anger at bay to make some room for resignation. Cas is calmer too, like your vulnerability has soothed his anger. Once again, you’re exhausted.

“Why don’t you just leave, Cas,” you say with a sigh as he keeps just standing there. “It’s late.”

“I might have a solution for your problem, Y/N ,” he says, looking at you intently.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, honey,” you mock him, unsure what he means.

“Your sleeping problem. You obviously need some rest; you look awful.”

“Wow, thanks,” you scoff. “And just how exactly would you take care of that?”

“I can put you into what you could call a ‘regenerative coma’,” he offers. “I could wake you up after your body’s fully rested. It would give your mind a break, too.”

You consider his offer. “How do you know it’d work?” you ask, wary.

“You can trust me,” he simply answers.

His warmth takes you by surprise. He’s never been so kind to you; just usually coldly polite, which you would return his way.

“Alright, well, I don’t have much to lose anyways, so why not give it a shot?” you say after pondering his words.

He doesn’t say anything; he simply comes close and before you know it, his index and middle finger are at your forehead and everything goes dark.

**********************

You wake up in your bed, dazed and a little bit confused.

“Would you look at that, sleeping beauty is awake,” snickers Dean, standing by the door.

You sit up and see Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, observing you.

“How long was I out?” you ask with a hoarse voice, rubbing your eyes.

“Three days,” answers Cas.

“Three days?!” you cry out.

“Don’t worry, Cas was being a diligent little nurse the whole time, monitoring your vitals and everything,” Dean reassures you with a smirk. “I’mma go get some food in town so you can have a proper meal, I’ll be back later,” he says and walks away before you can thank him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you tell Cas, turning your attention back to him, “you could’ve just woken me up after a few hours.”

“I know,” he says, “but you needed the rest.”

“Thank you,” you say sincerely.

“My pleasure, really,” he smiles. “It feels good to remember I don’t need to save the world in order to be helpful.”

You chuckle softly, and so does he after a delay.

After that moment, you and Cas grow closer, and after half a year, you’ve become very good friends. You’ve only ever needed his help two other times since, but this week you haven’t been able to sleep because of the visions again, and you’ve grown really exhausted.

As you step out from the bathroom after having just showered and into your room, wearing nothing but your underwear as your clothes are in your room, you decide to text him, hoping he’ll have the time to come by later.

As soon as you see that your text has gone through, you throw your phone back on the bed and head for the closet but before you know it a fluttery sound cuts through the silence and Cas is standing before you, still looking at his phone.

“What do you need my help for?” he asks, pocketing his phone and looking up.

As soon as he sees you, his eyes grow wide. He doesn’t have time to react any further that you’re yelling at him.

“WHAT THE HELL CAS,” you shout as he’s just frozen there, unsure of what to do or say. “Look away, man!” you suggest, and he obliges while you scramble to get a shirt you can put on.

“I’m sorry, Y/N , I did not realize you did not need me right away,” he tries awkwardly, looking in the opposite direction of you, “or that you would not be dressed, for that matter.”

“It’s alright, Cas, I should’ve been clearer,” you try to make him feel better as you put on an oversized flannel shirt that reaches down mid-tigh. “You can turn around now,” you say as you run your hand trough your hair.

He turns around and looks contrite for a second, before his expression switches to puzzled. “Isn’t that ...?” He asks, motioning towards your shirt.

“Sam’s?” You ask, and he nods. “Yeah, I stole it from him. He left it unattended by the washing machine.”

He makes a face like he has a question he doesn’t know if he can ask.

“Don’t worry,” you explain, “we’re not sleeping together.”

He coughs surprisedly, and you smirk, proud of yourself for guessing his thoughts.

“I don’t have a wild crush on him either, if you’re wondering,” you add. “His flannels are just really damn soft. I’d steal from Dean too, if he bothered to do his laundry more than once a decade,” you laugh as you sit on your bed. “Sam doesn’t know, however, so it’ll have to be our little secret,” you wink at him.

“Yes, uhm,” he pauses and clears his throat. “What did you need my help for? You don’t seem to be going on a hunt.”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry to bother you with that, but my visions have been acting up again and-” you begin, rambling already.

“You can’t sleep,” he interrupts you, understanding.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I don’t mind at all, I’ve told you before,” he says, “do you want me to do it now?”

“Well, unless you have to be somewhere, it’s a little early still,” you start. “Wanna chat a little first? We haven’t see each other in two weeks.”

“Sure,” he says, but still stands there and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at his lack of social skills.

“Why don’t you take off your trench coat and sit on the bed too,” you suggest and he obliges.

You both talk for a solid two-three hours, sitting on the side of the bed at first and making your way against the headboard for more comfort as the conversation goes. It feels nice to just talk for a while. You talk with the Winchesters too, of course, but it’s always about at hunt, or your visions, or whose turn it is to go for a milk run.

With Cas, you wind up talking about your old life, describing people you hadn’t talked to in over a few years now, and he tells you about his life back when he was still a ‘proper’ angel, and how sometimes he misses how easy it was.

Eventually, you let out a yawn, and he notices.

“I guess we strayed away from my purpose here, didn’t we?” he asks with a smile.

“I guess,” you laugh softly. “But it was worth it. You know, you’re really much better than what you let on when I first knew you,” you tease him.

“Sorry about that. I used to be more trusting, but life has a way of... happening,” he apologizes, and you laugh again but this time a little louder.

“Truer words were never spoken,” you say, staring ahead. “I should know; I’m a prophet,” you tease him, turning your eyes back on him only to find his already on you.

There is a pause, a brief halt in time during which you both simply look at each other. You break it, speaking up first.

“You should put me to rest now,” you say in a low voice.

“I should,” he says.

He extends his hand to your forehead, but instead of blacking out, you feel his palm make its way to your cheek.

“Uh, Cas, I think you’re forgetting a little detail in the equation,” you say, meaning the power of his grace.

“I don’t do human contact without using my grace all that often,” he says. “It feels... nice.”

You don’t know what to answer to that, so you remain quiet, letting him enjoy his ‘human contact’. You realize you haven’t been getting a whole lot either. Time slows down as he slowly pulls your cheek to him, leaning down onto your lips. His kiss is hesitant and soft at first, and you find yourself responding immediately, propping yourself closer to him as your hands find their way to his neck. The kiss quickly grows more confident, both of you feeling each other’s yearning trough it.

You break the kiss first to straddle him, giving you both better access to each other. You go back to kissing him just as fast, one of your hands running through his hair. His hands move down to your hips, placing themselves on the fabric just above the spots where it runs up to expose your skin. He is being slow and careful but you can feel the longing in his movements. Soon enough his mouth leaves yours to place itself on your neck, trailing soft kisses that make your skin shiver.

You start working on the buttons of his shirt, pausing before undoing the first one to validate he’s comfortable with it. Sensing you stop, his lips part from your skin and looks you in the eyes as he nods, slightly panting.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, a little out of breath too.

“Once,” he answers in a voice even lower than usual that only lets you nod before you crash back down on his lips.

His fingers dig into your hips a little as you work your way through the buttons of his shirt before pulling it off him with his help. You let your hands trail his shoulders, tracing his muscles and brushing his clavicle with you thumb. His hands venture lower, now skirting the edges of the flannel, his fingers sometimes swiftly stroking the side of your thigh. You pull back, bringing your hands to the buttons of your own shirt, but before you can start undoing them he puts his hands on yours, stopping you.

“Let me,” he breathes into your ear.

You remove your hands and he starts undressing you, focused on his hands as you take in the moment. Out of nowhere, the old record player in the corner of the room starts playing and a song from a bygone era starts flooding the room. Cas looks up to you and grins, proud of his initiative. You smile back, leaning down to kiss him, but he pulls back as he’s finally done with your flannel and he wants to watch it go off.

You comply with his desire and take off the shirt, throwing it in a corner of the room. You notice him taking the image in, somehow holding in his breath, and you can’t help but blush. This is the most seen you’ve felt in a long time. The most alive. You never were an angry person before it all, and in that moment, you feel like your old self again; like time will never run out.

Cas slides up his hands to your waist, and you almost jump at the touch of his slightly callous finders.

“You know,” he says, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper, “I’m sorry I appeared while you were in your underwear.” He pauses, and leans closer to you. “But I’m not sorry for seeing you in your underwear,” he finishes his thought, unable to hold in a smile as he goes and slides one of your bra straps over your shoulder before planting as kiss on it.

Somehow, the earlier urgency has faded for the moment, and you’re both just taking it slow, getting familiar with each other’s body. You decide it’d be a good time for his pants to come off. You hook your fingers in the band of his pants and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“I think these need to go,” you suggest and you search his eyes for disagreement as you undo them.

He pulls them off quickly, leaving both of you in your underwear only. You reposition yourself on him, straddling him again but this time grinding ever so slightly into him, making him suck up his breath. He is hard under you, and you unclasp your bra yourself to avoid the awkward fumbling, but you let him take it off. As he does so, his fingers brush against your breasts and you shiver with lust. After discarding your bra, his hands go back to your chest, and soon enough his thumbs are brushing over your hard nipples, causing you to strangle a whimper in the back of your throat.

Turned on by your involuntary response, and more confident because of it, Cas flips you over and you end up lying on your back as he hovers over you. He kisses you before lowering himself to kiss at the base of your throat. From there, his mouth makes its way to your breast, and when he starts sucking, his hand makes its way to your other breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple.

“Castiel,” you moan his name, and he groans in appreciation.

You begin to feel like you’re ready to take him, and so to speed up the process you reach down and stroke him through his boxers. This causes him to bite down softly on your nipple, and the wave of pleasure makes you grab him a little harder than anticipated. You whimper with need as he moans, and one look at each other has you both removing your remaining underwear, the urgency building back up now. His mouth comes back to yours and you run your fingers through his hair as he lines himself up against your entrance.

You deepen the kiss, urging him to do something, and he eases into you at just the right pace, and for a second all you can think of is how good he feels inside of you. He starts pulling in and out to the rythm of the music he put on earlier, and you feel like something inside of you is about to burst.

It’s not your orgasm; not yet at least. No, it’s the realization that this isn’t just sex; Cas is making love to you, and you never expected that in a million years. But what you didn’t expect either is how right it would feel, how responsive you would be to him. All of this is too good, and you feel like you’re in a bubble that should’ve burst already.

Meanwhile, Cas is picking up his pace, and you intertwine your hands with his above your head. Your moans grow more needy, your panting more insisting; you’re getting close. You start whispering his name repeatedly, your voice needier than you’ve ever heard it, and he starts to have less control over his thrusts.

“I’m so close, Cas,” you barely breathe out.

He switches his angle a little, and his thrust goes down even deeper in you, hitting your g-spot, getting a surprised scream out of you. After three more thrusts, you’re falling apart under him, your walls clenching hard on him as he rides you through it, coming himself in a matter of seconds after you. You scream his name as he groans yours, and as soon as he slows down, you grab his face and kiss him with all the force of feelings you didn’t know you had.

He kisses you back, a little bit stunned, and when you let him go he pulls out and drops on his back next to you. You both just lay there for a while, breathless, staring at the ceiling. After a while, he breaks the silence by speaking up.

“So, should I take it that my feelings for you are reciprocated?” he asks, still a little hesitant.

“Guess we’ll have to figure that out, won’t we?” you chuckle as you curl into him, bringing his arm over you. You fall asleep almost instantly, and this time, no visions come to you. Cas stays there with you, eyes closed, not sleeping but simply enjoying the rise and fall of your chest against his.

Tag: @whats-the-matter-with-y0u (just lemme know if you don’t like smut and I’ll untag you, or if I mixed up who asked to be tagged in Cas fics)

#castiel x reader #castiel smut #castiel one shot #supernatural smut #supernatural one shot #castiel fluff #supernatural fluff #castiel x prophet!reader

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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You Said You Owed Me, pt.1

Summary: Teen!Dean saves your brother from a dijnn on a hunt with his father, and you thank him afterwards, telling him you owe him a lot. Fast forward two years, it’s the beginning of October of your senior year, and guess who turns up in your literature class?

Pairing: Teen!Dean x Teen!Reader

Word count: 1837

Warnings: Near death of character (really brief), mention of divorce (does this need to be a warning?)

A/N: I didn’t even know I was into teen!Dean fics before reading this by @impalapossible two-three days ago. But then again teen!Dean has had a special part of my heart ever since ‘After School Special’ so I guess there’s that.

You see the impala in the highway as its headlights are cut through the window; you run outside, your heart pounding in your chest. When you only see Dean getting out of the car, you feel like dying.

“My brother,” you whisper, staggering towards him. “Where is he?” you ask. “WHERE IS HE?” you scream, but your voice is not angry; it’s filled with despair.

“Calm down, Y/N ,” Dean starts, “You need to breathe right now.”

“Did you even find him? Is he-” you ask, on the brink of losing complete control over yourself.

“He’s not dead,” he says, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you up a little. “We brought him to the hospital; my dad’s there with him, and I came to get you as soon as I dropped them off,” he explains.

“Oh my god,” you say under you breath, shaky and leaving his hold to get to the passenger seat.

He doesn’t say anything else; he simply gets back in the car right away.

During the ride, you try to calm yourself down. Walking into the hospital hysteric is not a good idea. You try not to cry as you keep on reminding yourself Dean didn’t say your brother would be okay. He only said he wasn’t dead.

Once you get to the hospital, Dean drops you off before parking the car. You run inside, asking where your brother is at the front desk. The walk there is a blur; you’ve switched into autopilot. You only allow yourself to really breathe once you’re standing on the doorstep, as you see your brother, asleep in his bed, his heart monitor beeping steadily and John Winchester sitting in a chair next to the bed. You feel tears of relief swell up in your eyes.

“The doctor said he’s gonna make it through,” John tells you, and by the time the words register you’re crying harder than you ever have before. You can’t get yourself to walk to the bed, you’re just standing there breaking down. Your cry is practically silent, but it shakes up your whole body.

At that moment, Dean arrives behind you and instantly catches you in his arms, as if he thought your legs were about to give out. His arms circle you, steadying you against his chest, and his movements are hesitant as he rests his head against yours.

“Hey now,” he hushes you, “he’s gonna be okay. We took care of it. It’s all over now.”

You turn around to lean into him, and your emotional discharge turns into sobs of gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper, “Both of you. You saved him,” you pause to sniffle, which you are aware is probably grossing them out. “I owe you everything.”

____________________________________________

TWO YEARS LATER

“I still can’t believe you’re in freshman year,” you tease your brother as you park your pickup truck in the school parking lot.

It’s your dad’s old truck, and he had kept it for you to have when you’d get your license when he had gotten a new one. It's not exactly your style, but hey, you can go anywhere you want with it, and it's still in good shape.

“ Y/N , it’s October now,” says Ben as he rolls his eyes at you. “You’re gonna have to get used to it some day.”

“Maybe, but today is not that day, brother mine,” you say ceremoniously, intentionally pissing him off.

He groans and walks away, and you have to suppress a smile as you look at him go. You love him to death. You guys have been through a lot together: his almost-death two years ago, and your parents’ divorce since. Both of the events really have brought you closer together, even though he acts all though and detached at school.

You head to your first class of the day, brushing away the thought. At your locker, your friend Tiffany walks up to you with the face she has when she’s got exciting gossip for you.

“ Y/N ,” she says, grabbing your arm, “you’ll never guess what Kelly just told me Shannon told her.”

“You’re right, I probably won’t,” you reply, amused. You love a good bit of gossip just as much as everyone, but Tiff is always particularly enthusiastic about it.

“Oh my god, don’t be such a buzzkill,” she fake-pouts, swatting your arm lightly, making you laugh.

“I’m sorry, pray do tell,” you apologize, gathering your books.

“There’s a newbie coming in today. A guy!” she squeals.

“Wait, what?” you ask, confused. “Why would someone change schools at this point into the year?” you ask her.

“That is so not what’s important right now, Y/N ,” she tells you, discouraged. “I need a better best friend,” she teases you as you close your locker and the two of you head to class.

“Finally, no one’s holding you back here,” you tease her back.

Your personalities are mostly different, but it’s never caused any problem in your friendship. If anything, it made your little duo all the more interesting, and you complemented each other; she made sure you didn’t retract on yourself, and you brought her back to heart when she got melodramatic.

“Seriously, though, if he’s not in our class I’m throwing a fit,” she presses.

“I was wondering when you’d get to that, actually,” you joke. “I don’t think you’ve thrown any since school has started, which, props to you by the way.”

“Shut up, my flair for the dramatic makes your life less miserably vanilla,” she replies, and by the time you are done laughing together, you’ve made your way to your English literature class.

You and Tiffany are seated in the second row near the door, and you haven’t even made it to your desk that she is very not discretely shooting you glances that are practically screaming ‘HE’S HERE HE’S IN OUR CLASS’.

After sitting down, you look around, trying not to be too obvious as you scan the faces around you for a non-familiar one. You find him quickly, and, as it turns out, he turns to look at you at the same time. You haven’t even taken him in that he’s smirking at you, and you look away right then and there. He’s one of those guys, then. ‘Oh well,’ you think, and open your notebook, having decided he’s not worth the fuss.

Shortly after, the teacher walks into class and asks everyone to quiet down.

“Alright class, I’m sure by now you’ll have noticed that there has been an addition to your ranks; I expect, however, that you will treat him as an equal peer, and not as some sort of novelty,” he says right away, knowing the impact of a new student in a small school like yours. “Mr. Winchester, would you like to say anything about yourself?” he asks, and you almost choke.

You’ve only ever heard that last name once. Slowly, you look back at the new guy as his familiar voice answers “No thanks, I’m good sir.”

While he had been answering the teacher, his gaze had been stuck on you, his words punctuated by a knowing wink in your direction. You hear Todd whistle in the back of the class, but you are way too shocked to turn around and glare at him. You simply turned your head back to your notes, stunned.

How had you not recognized him?

What in hell was Dean Winchester doing at your school?

__________

Once the bell finally rings, you spring up from your seat and quickly walk out of class, but Tiff, knowing you’d pull something like that, is right behind you, and grabs your sleeve to make you stop in the middle of the corridor.

“Okay, what was that exactly?” she asks you, her tone a mix of incredulous and full of anticipation over your answer. “New guy was totally checking you out the whole period, and you miss, were totally avoiding to look at him,” she accuses you, obviously seeing right through you. “Honestly, you barely even looked up at the teacher.”

Right at that moment, a voice calls your name and you instantly cringe. You aren’t ready to face him quite yet.

“ Y/N , wait up!” he shouts. “Is that really how you welcome old friends?” he asks with his trademark smirk as he catches up to you.

“You’re friends with him?” demands Tiff, already smelling all of the potential tea in front of her.

“I mean, I guess it’s one way to put it,” you offer, staring at your shoes.

“Aw come on now, don’t be like that,” he teases you.

“Uhm, Tiff, can I catch up with you later?” you ask her with pleading eyes.

“Sure, sure, take all the time you need,” she smiles exaggeratedly. “Get him tiger,” she laughs as she walks away, slapping your butt and making you shut your eyes in embarrassment.

“Well ain’t she a spunky one,” Dean laughs.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, not being able to hold in the question any longer.

“Uh, I go to school here,” he answers like he’s questioning your sanity.

“Don’t play games Dean,” you warn him. You’re not having it.

“Fine, fine,” he semi-apologizes. “My dad’s got a couple of hunts lined up in the area, so Sammy and I are gonna go to class here until he’s done cleaning up,” he explains, leaning in to conceal your conversations.

You feel your stomach drop. You knew his presence couldn’t amount to anything good.

He probably sees your anxiety levels rise, because he’s quick to reassure you.

“Hey, you don’t need to worry, none of them are in this town. It’s why he sent us here, actually.”

You exhale, relieved. You realize the sight of him had put you into panic mode, and your brain starts working normally again. Meaning you remember out of the blue the very last time you’ve seen him. ‘Oh god,’ you think. The only reason you hadn’t minded him seeing you so distressed was because you thought you’d never see him again.

“Okay, well, I’ve got class,” you say after being quiet for a few seconds. “Did you actually want anything?” you ask.

“Actually, I do,” he answers, surprising you. “You know the assignment Mr. Teacher just talked about back there? Well I need a partner,” he says, flashing you a cocky smile.

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” you scoff, “I’ve already paired up with Tiffany.”

“Is that so?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You see, from what I remember, you... What were the words again? Owe me everything, was that it?”

You’re about to tell him he’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re compromising your GPA for him, when it dawns on you that he did risk his life for your brother.

“Fine,” you concede, “but you better work like you mean it,” you threaten him unconvincingly.

“Wait, that worked?” he asks as you walk away, stunned.

“Don’t push your luck Winchester,” you shout back at him, not bothering to turn back.

#teen!dean one-shot #tean!dean fic #dean winchester #dean x reader #teen!dean x teen!reader #supernatural #dean one shot #teen!dean imagine #supernatural one shot

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Imagine Cas being confused by how he feels about you (pt.3)

Part 1 here | Part 2 here

A/N: Here is the last part of this imagine series, and I must say that I am quite happy with how this has turned out! Thanks for sticking around through all of this!

Also I know this is basically one-shot length and I have decided that I don’t care.

You’ve just woken up from a pretty terrible nightmare of a hunt gone wrong, and you feel frustrated. You know why you’re having these nightmares: a part of you keeps taunting your mind, suggesting that you’re not built for hunting, that you’ll end up with a body count of innocents sooner rather than later.

So, when Cas appears behind you, you only hear the noise of someone coming your way and your instinct kicks in as you break the bottle of whiskey you were grabbing from a shelf and spin around with the intension of using the bottles’ sharp edges on whomever might be intruding into the bunker; Dean told you earlier that some wards were faulty and that he would fix them tomorrow.

When you see it’s Castiel, your arm falls to your side, and you catch the side of the counter to take a deep breath.

“Jesus, Cas, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, still startled.

“That is strong liquor,” he says, looking at the expanding puddle on the ground.

“Yeah, well,” you say, “I didn’t think I’d be having so righteous company tonight.” You know you’re not being the kindest, but you’re so on the edge you can’t help it.

“I drank a liquor store once,” he states matter-of-factly.

“What?” you ask, very confused.

“Never mind,” he mutters. “You are not feeling right. I suppose that is why you intended on drinking it?”

“Maybe,” you answer, cursing yourself under your breath for making such a mess. “I won’t be drinking it now, though,” you say grimly, tiptoeing around the broken glass in bare feet.

“Do you want me to hold you?” he asks out of the blue, surprising you and causing you to step on some glass by inadvertence.

“Of course that would happen,” you hiss, “this night just keeps on getting better and better.”

Pain shoots through your left foot as you avoid looking at Castiel. Did he just ask if you wanted a hug? Why would he even propose that?

“You’re hurt,” he says, frowning. “Let me heal you.”

“Thanks, but it’s okay, really. It’s only a little cut. I’ve seen worse.”

“Please,” he insists, and something in his eyes makes you abide.

You prop yourself up on another counter, further away from the spill, sighing. At least, somehow, him caring so much is soothing your nerves.

Soon enough, he stands in front of you and holds up your foot with both his hands. You shudder as his fingers brush against the sole of it, and wince when they get to the cut. From what you feel of it, it is wide but not deep. Cas retracts his fingers, looks up to you and stares at you like he has not in a while. You’ve maintained eye contact with him before, but this time something is different. There is intent and interrogation in those blue eyes of his.

You’re pretty sure your heart skips a beat when he pushes the palm of his hand over the cut, some sort of holy heat flowing from his skin to yours to heal you, all the while he keeps staring at you. You’re pretty sure you saw light around your foot while he healed it, but you’re not sure because you were looking straight back at him.

For some reason, once he’s done and takes a step back, you realize you’re breathing heavily. Why are you getting so flustered? You can’t feel like that about him, he’s an angel.

“Thanks,” you breathe, breaking the eye contact. “I should get some sleep,” you utter against your will, trying to squash the flutter in your stomach while it’s still nascent.

“But what about-” Castiel starts, looking at the mess on the floor.

“I’ll clean it up tomorrow. Dean will kill me, but hey,” you say, “I’m only human.”

“That you are,” he says with a small smile, bringing you to a halt in your descent from the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, not knowing if you should be offended.

“I have been thinking about you,” he starts, “ever since that night in the library, when you comforted me without me even knowing I needed it.”

“Wait, so that was not a dream then?” you ask, completely lost.

“I’m afraid it was all very real,” he admits, avoiding your gaze this time around.

“But why did you lie?” you ask, still genuinely tangled in confusion.

“I don’t know. I still don’t know,” he says. “Emotions confuse me,” he continues, which you can’t help think is adorable. “I think you unsettled me. But ever since that night... my thoughts keep going back to you. I couldn’t understand why, but I think I understand now.”

Your heart rate accelerates as he comes closer to you, as if to observe you better, and you can’t really move because you’re still sitting on the counter.

“You have not told me much about yourself, and yet, I know that you are kind, that you care about the people you save so much it is probably the cause of these nightmares you are having, and that you are compassionate.”

With every detail he lists about you, he comes closer, and by this point you don’t have a clue what the hell is even going on.

“But you also feel distressed, and frustrated, and doubtful. You are human. There is so much humanity in you,” he pauses, his tone so full of wonder you can’t help blushing. “It’s beautiful,” he concludes, inches away from you.

“Cas,” you struggle, “Boundaries.” You can’t let this happen, and you hate yourself for knowing it.

“This doubt you experience,” he continues, completely ignoring your plea, “I have experienced it too. I see my own struggles reflected in yours, but instead of it being a relief, it makes me concerned about you. It confuses me, caring like this about a one human. You confuse me when I think about you, but the idea of you makes me feel less alone. You unsettle me when you are near me, but I can’t stop longing for you. And it’s all so... exhilarating,” he concludes, so close to you now your foreheads could touch, but they don’t because his eyes have you trapped in his gaze.

“I, uh, I-” you stutter, at loss for words.

Before you can think of a word to say, his lips are on yours, his eyes shut tight as he kisses you gently. His lips are soft and shy, yet curious, and he raises his hand to cup your cheek to pull you into his kiss. You find yourself kissing back, hesitant at first but you can feel your restraint melt as he grows more confident and allows the extent of his feelings to shine through, before he pulls back to study your expression.

You realize he is trying to assess your feelings, and by now you know they are messier than the puddle of shattered glass on the floor. Still, something primal inside of you has you reaching out for his collar and abruptly pulling him back into the kiss, your lips hungry for more. His shock quickly turns into urgency as you intertwine your hands in his hair, his own hands grabbing your hip and cheek to pull you closer to him.

You don’t know what this will lead to. However, if there is one thing you know, it’s that you couldn’t care less about the future right now.

#castiel imagine #castiel fluff #castiel x reader #castiel one shot #spn fluff #castiel

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Imagine Cas pretending he didn’t watch you sleep (pt.2)

Part 1 here Part three here

Dedicated to @baitellasupernaturalimagines and @lokis-imaginary-friend for being sweet peas and requesting it!

The next morning, you are eating breakfast with the Winchesters when Cas materializes in the middle of the room, causing Dean to choke on his coffee and you to nearly spit out your cereal. Sam just snickeres looking at his phone.

“Hey, Cas?” he asks the angel, who turns to him. “Don’t get me wrong, texting us before you appear is totally an improvement, but, next time, maybe like, wait a few seconds so I can tell the others okay?”

“Right,” agrees Cas. “I keep forgetting how important time is down here,” he apologized.

“It’s okay man, you’ll get there,” Dean tells him, still coughing his coffee.

Cas turns to you and makes a face before looking away. You suddenly remember something from last night.

“Hey, guys, did I fall asleep in the library last night?” you ask the brothers, trying to piece together your memories.

“Dunno. You do that a lot, though, so it’s not impossible,” answers Dean, detached. “Why?”

“Well either I did and got back to bed at some point,” you start, “or I had a really weird dream,” you finish, moving your gaze over to Castiel. Was he really in the library last night? If he was, he was ignoring you right now.

“Wait, are you still having nightmares?” asks Sam, doing this thing when he’s concerned where he raises the ends of his eyebrows.

“No, it wasn’t like that,” you answer. “I mean, yeah, I still get nightmares, but not last night I think. Nothing major at least.”

“Okay,” says Sam, still a little worried, before shifting his attention. “So, Cas, what are you here for anyways?”

“A friend of mine needs an evergreen stake, pheonix ashes and dead man’s blood,” he explains as your eyes grew wide. “Do you have any of these items in stock here?”

“That’s one hell of a shopping list, Cas,” Dean comments. “Fortunately for you, I think we’ve got all that. Sam, come help me find all that stuff.”

Cas is about to follow them when you make him stop;

“Cas, wait,” you say, still thinking about your dream. It's hazy, but still too vivid for a dream. “Were you in the library last night?” you ask, looking him in the eyes and scrutinizing his expression.

“No,” he answers in his usual emotionless tone, though not maintaining eye contact, which he usually does a little too much.

“I could’ve sworn I saw you there last night,” you hint, not wanting to freak him out in case you actually dreamed about the whole thing.

“It must have been a dream, like you said,” he replies before taking off to follow the boys as you stay there, sitting by yourself.

“Okay then,” you say to no one in particular. Case closed, you guess.

When Sam and Dean come back, they’re alone, and you realize he took off after getting his supplies. It must’ve been important, for him to be in such a hurry.

*** A week and a half later ***

Ever since you’ve hugged him, if Castiel concentrates on you, he can get a sense of how you feel. As if in that moment he had been able to tune into your frequency, and could go now go tune back into it whenever. He also has a similar thing with the Winchesters and Claire; the handful of humans he worries about even when he’s not around them.

He does not quite understand how it had happened so early with you, however. It had taken six months for Dean and a full year for Sam; the only exception this far having been Claire, because upon meeting her he had felt very responsible for her. But you, for it to happen so fast without him having even seen you in real danger, it was unexpected. His best guess for the source of his concern is the fact that Sam mentioned your nightmares in front of him.

In fact, when he’s alone at night waiting for humans to wake up, he sometimes taps into your frequency to see how you’re doing. He has not done it for the past few days, however, because the last time he did, he recognized distress and fear. Though he was not good with human boundaries, surely these emotions were private to you; he had never seen any hunter express them willingly.

Tonight, however, he feels alone and useless; what good is he really doing for humans? Thousands still die every day, and he finds himself reminiscing of the time he followed orders blindly, not having experienced doubt yet. The last time he felt like that, he remembers, you had comforted him. The pain of an angel is one of the greatest burdens of all, and yet you managed that night to rid him of some of it.

Inadvertently, he finds himself tapping into your frequency. He instantly winces; there it is again, that private distress. He almost tunes out but then something shifts; he feels your fear has turned into anger and... doubt. There it is again; he is relating, even more than the first time around.

Restless, he flies to the bunker; right into the kitchen, where you happen to be.

Part three here

A/N: Okay my imagination is running out of hand and I have to stop here before I have to rebrand this as a one-shot following an imagine. I’m sorry if you prefer short scenarios, my mind is having a hard time with those. Forgive me?

#castiel #castiel fluff #castiel imagine #castiel x reader #castiel one shot #spn fluff

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Well there goes my heart

seven times castiel almost cried. and that one time he actually did.

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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For the imagining Cas watch you sleep, I need a part two to live. Your writing is amazing!! A part two would be incredible, love!

OMG thank you so much I didn’t even think people would read it ‘cause of the whole ~I’m new and I know next to no one on this thing~ situation but if you need it so much I guess I could come around to publishing it later today ;) Thank you again for your nice words!!! xx Sarah

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Imagine Cas watching you sleep and longing for you

**I don’t own the gif**

It’s the middle of the night after a long hunt and you fell asleep in an armchair in the library.

Cas materializes in the kitchen and starts walking all over the place to find one of you; he has just fought some demons and the other angel that was helping him died. He feels confused and disoriented because he doesn’t usually feel so strongly about anything, and though he does not want to talk about it, he doesn’t want to be alone either. He doesn’t realize right away that you are all asleep, even though it’s 2 a.m., because he is as exhausted as an angel can be.

He walks into the library, where he can usually find someone, and stops in his tracks as he sees you, curled up in the armchair. Even though you are asleep, your brows are furrowed and you don’t look at rest; you’ve rarely slept well since you’ve taken up hunting. He sees in your traits the same restlessness he feels, and for a moment there he relates to you, a human. That’s never happened to him before.

He steps closer to you, to look at you better. You’ve only been hunting with the Winchesters for a few weeks, and he’s been busy on his own, so he’s only met you a handful of times, which confuses him even further. You’re sort of a mystery to him, as he knows very little about you, except that you’re patient, passionate and compassionate. He has rarely seen humans with so much humanity.

As he’s thinking, he keeps getting closer, even reaching out to brush your cheek before realizing it might wake you up. He stops his movement and lets his arm fall, and your eyes slowly flutter open. You don’t even realize you’re awake until you see him standing there, silently staring with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Cas?” you ask, half-asleep, rubbing your eyes before seeing the blood on his trenchcoat. “What happened? Are you ok?”

He frowns, before looking at his sleeve and seeing red stains on it. “Yes, I am fine. This blood is not my vessel’s.”

You look at him wide-eyed, before remembering this is normal for you now. “Still, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t understand. I just told you I am not hurt.” he replies, confused.

“I know, but, do you... feel fine? Inside?”

“I don’t know. I do not think so,” he says, as if wondering aloud.

“Oh,” you respond. How did one comfort an angel? You stand up awkwardly, asking “Do you want me to hold you?”

He just stares at you, taken back by the question.

“I know I could use a hug, if that’s okay with you,” you continue, desperate to chase the awkwardness even though you know you’re doing a terrible job. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but nods imperceptibly, so you stumble to him, your legs sore and not fully awake.

You take him in your arms, and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes at first, but soon enough his arms are wrapping around you hesitantly, and his head slowly descends to rest on your shoulder.

This should feel awkward, but it doesn’t, you realize. It’s just comfortable. You shift your head and breathe into his clavicle, letting your guard down completely; you’re way too exhausted still, and it’s not like an angel’s gonna hurt you. You feel him tense up and look up to him, asking what’s wrong with your eyes. The silence is too thick; saying the words wouldn’t feel right.

He then lets go of you a little too quickly as he backs out from the hug, and you let out a strangled sound of surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes panicky. “Thank you,” he continues, and before you can say a word yourself, he’s gone, leaving you dizzied in the dark.

Thanks for reading! Part 2 here Part three here

#castiel #castiel fluff #spn fluff #castiel x reader #castiel imagine

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supernaturallust · 8 years ago

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Fanfic #1 - Lore Expert, Ch. 1, part 1.

Summary: Sam x Reader, in which reader teaches a “Myths and Folklore” class at a small-scale college and hunts on the side. Sam and Dean come to her for informations, and they keep meeting, the guys not realizing they are on the same hunt. Takes place around season 2, when Sam is still kinda happy and somewhat innocent.

Word Count: 1855

A/N: This is my first time writing one of these and I have no community whatsoever on here at the moment so comments are more than welcome! Also, let me know if you want follow-up parts!

YOUR POV

You could not wait to get out of there. You loved teaching, and even more what you taught, but whenever you were on a hunt, it was all you could think about. In fact, you could have been long gone already, had it not been for a note from the reception telling you to expect visitors during your office hours. This meant you had to stay in your not-exactly-luxurious office, waiting for people who might not even show up. Still, you rarely received visitors, and you loved discussing myths and legends, which your course was based on, so you were usually glad to answer questions about them. Usually.

Since there was no way of knowing when the visitors would show up, you decided to brush up your lore on werewolves across cultures. You had a scholarly approach to hunting, and you thoroughly believed that studying the various depictions of monsters and the likes could help you map out key factors, like their motivations and how they might choose their prey, consciously or not. Plus, knowing killing patterns made them easier to detect.

After a while, a knock on the door made you look up from your book, which you promptly shut. At your door were standing two men, both in their twenties, and by a simple look at them, you just knew they were hunters. And you rarely trusted hunters, even though you were basically one yourself, because hunters tended be quite barbaric and rarely ever cared about the myths, they only ever wanted to know how to kill. Admittedly, though, these particular hunters were very handsome.

“How may I help you gentlemen?” you asked, smiling for the act of the naive professor you had come to perfect.

“Hi, yes, we actually have some questions about, uhm...” started the tallest one, who was obviously the youngest, stumbling on his words.

“Myths and folklore” continued the other one, older but not by too much, with a mocking enthusiasm.

“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” you answered, amused by their act. “Lay it all on me.”

“We were just wondering, Professor..?” started the tall one, who obviously knew your name but was polite enough to let you introduce yourself.

“You guys aren’t students, just call me Y/N ,” you responded.

“Alright, so, Y/N , is there any mythology associated to this area?” he finished his question.

“Actually, yes,” you answered, taken by surprise. “Though it is very debated, a lot of locals believed from an early period on that vikings had made their way to this state, and, more specifically, this area. The popular belief is fuelled by what scholars have deemed as a hoax, which would be the Kensington Runestone.”

And so before you knew it you were ranting about norse mythology, the two men particularly interested in gods and rituals. Though you made it clear that viking presence in the area was far from proved, the fact that the locals believed it was enough for them. At some point, you dusted off an old book of illustrations of norse mythology, and began flipping through the pages, when the tall one, who had said his name was Sam Rossington, though it was probably a fake name, reached out to make you stop at an illustration. It depicted an enormous wolf biting down on a man’s hand.

“Wait, what’s this?” he asked, looking at his colleague, Dean, who had zoned out during your literal dump of information on them.

“That would be Fenrir,” you answered, concerned. You knew why he was interested in the illustration; a few corpses had surfaced with beast-like mutilations and, most of all, missing right hands.

“What’s his backstory?” asked Dean, who had become interested again.

“Well, he was this huge wolf, Loki’s son actually,” you explained. “There was a prophecy that he would be the gods’ undoing, so they chained him up while this poor guy,” you said pointing to the man on the illustration, “distracted him by putting his hand in his mouth as a show of good faith. He ended up figuring out the ruse, and bit down on his hand.”

Sam and Dean shot knowing a look at each other, which you recognized as hunter for “this is probably our guy”.

“But according to the legend, Fenrir was killed,” you continued, concerned. “By another god,” you added for good measure.

They looked at each other again, as if debating wether that was relevant.

“Why did you say you were interested in all of this, anyways?” you asked them, trying to see where they were getting at.

“We’re with the State Patrol,” Dean answered, him and Sam flashing their fake badges at you.

“We’re looking into a string of murders, and we wanted to evaluate the possibility of a local emulating a myth in his actions,” explained Sam.

“I see,” you answered, confused but not wanting to display it. “Did you want to know anything else?”

“No thanks,” quickly answered Dean, obviously eager to leave. To be fair, you had given them quite a lecture on norse gods.

“Seriously, though, thank you very much for your cooperation, Y/N ,” Sam thanked you after rolling his eyes at his brother. “I’m sure this will be very helpful to our investigation.”

“Anytime, troopers” you smiled at them as you shook their hands. “I’d be glad to help if any more questions came up.”

And after a last goodbye, they left. Their presence here worried you; their act was pretty tight, and good hunters only turned up when something in their league showed up. However, they didn’t have you fooled, so you went back to your desk, trying to make sense of this whole Fenrir lead.

***********************************************

SAM’S POV

“I am never sitting through this again,” Dean sighed as he climbed behind the wheel. “This is why I didn’t go to college man. The parties; I get. The experimental drug phase; I get. College chicks? I dig. But lectures? Beats me.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad Dean,” Sam retorted. “She really knew her stuff, and, we both know you’re not a fair judge.”

“What? Why?” asked Dean, offended.

“Dude, you have the attention span of a squirrel when it comes to stuff like that.”

“Oh come on, I’m just used to you telling me all I need to know in under two minutes,” Dean defended himself.

“Yeah whatever man,” Sam brushed him and his complaints off. “It could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.”

“Look at you defending her,” teased Dean. “I mean, I guess nerds gotta stick up for each other...”

“Shut up,” snorted Sam. “In all seriousness, though, what are we gonna do about the whole Fenrir thing?”

“I dunno man, why would a dead giant wolf resurface in Minnesota?”

“We should start by trying to find witnesses. Surely that sort of thing leaves a strong impression,” suggested Sam.

“I know just where we should start, then,” said Dean, suppressing a grin.

***********************************************

DEAN’S POV, A FEW HOURS LATER

Dean was glad he’d found a way to squeeze in a stop at the local bar in their hunt. The last few had been a stressful bunch, to say the least, and they were starting to run low on money. Of course, that was nothing a game of pool or two couldn’t fix.

“Let’s go grab some drinks,” he said, a smug look on his face.

“I thought we were working on the case,” mocked Sam as he raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah, well, people are not going to confess their deepest fears to us if we act all feds-y. We need to blend in the crowd, Sammy,” smirked Dean, before ordering two beers at the bar. “Besides, when’s the last time you’ve had some decent fun?”

“All right, all right, where do you wanna start then?” conceded Sam, looking around the place.

“How ‘bout we make some new friends,” suggested Dean as he spotted two girls sitting further down the bar. Though they were not facing him, from what he could see, they looked hot enough.

He walked confidently over to the two of them, Sam following him as he made a weird face he did not understand, and started talking once he had reached them.

“Excuse me ladies, do you-” he started, before realizing who he was actually talking to. “Professor?” he asked, disbelief written all over his face.

YOUR POV

You suppressed a laugh as Dean stared at you with shock. You had seen them when they had walked in, actually making eye contact with Sam who seemed to have recognized you, who was now laughing at his brother.

“Dude, you’re the worst,” he snickered.

“I see you’ve made it to after hours, troopers,” you said with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, so have you, apparently,” retorted Dean, butthurt because of the small humiliation.

You didn’t blame him for not recognizing you, though. Since you were not much older than most of your students, some of them actually being older, you tried to wear clothes that aged you and made you seem more serious at work. When you had met the boys, you had been wearing loose fitting pants, boring shoes and a granny cardigan, the whole outfit completed by a severe pair of glasses and your hair pulled into a tight bun.

However, once they’d left, you had clocked out for the weekend and gone straight to your apartment to change. Now, sitting before them, you were wearing a black leather jacket over a black tank top, with tight jeans and heeled boots, your eyes glasses-free as you had put on contacts, and your hair falling in soft curls past your shoulders. You therefore attributed Dean’s shock to your new outfit, especially since it had happened before when you had crossed paths with students out of class.

“Wait, I’m being rude, troopers, this is Lauren,” you said to present them to the girl you had been talking to. You were not exactly friends, but usually spoke together when you ran into each other.

“Troopers, huh? You’ve got friends in high places, Y/N,” she joked, attracting the boys’ attention.

As Dean laid eyes on her, you could see he had forgotten all about you as he took in her mini leather skirt paired with a tight long-sleeved shirt that showed just the right amount of cleavage. You were pretty sure you had seen him check out a faded hickey at the base of her neck, right where her chocolate brown hair ended.

“Nice to meet you Lauren,” first said Sam as he shook her hand. “I”m Sam.”

“And I’m Dean,” Dean introduced himself, before starting to systematically hit on her.

You glanced at Sam with a question in your eyes, trying to silently ask him if his associate was always so straightforward.

“Right, why don’t we got get ourselves some more more drinks, Y/N ?” he asked you, despite both of your drinks still being full.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” you said thankfully. “Nice to see you Lauren, good talk!”

You walked away before she could respond, joining Sam further away in the bar.

END OF PART I

Don’t be afraid to share your impressions with me, I’d love to hear your feedback!

#sam x reader #sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester #spn fanfic #lore expert #norse mythology #paganism #fenrir

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