#cas x reader insert

[hollybell51]

Last night on Earth

^don't mind me going absolutely feral over this gif

Navigation

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.” 

[fanfictionalraven]

Right Where You Left Me

Title: Right Where You Left Me

Summary: The reader, a waitress at the local diner, has become good friends with Dean. What happens when he disappears without a trace?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 7,309

Warnings: Canon typical violence and peril

Author's Note: This story takes place through the events of the second half of season 12, starting with episode 9 "First Blood". It's also the first story I've actually written and published in nearly 6 years, so grant me a little grace please. Enjoy!!

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” A voice says. You snap from your thoughts and look at the people sitting at the table in front of you. You’d gotten distracted by the bell at the door, a new customer coming in. Not the one you were looking for though. Putting on your best smile, you shake your head slightly. 

“I’m so sorry. Where were we?” You ask, glancing at the notepad in your hand.

“We were trying to ask you about the pie of the day,” the woman says. You nod and try not to sigh.

“Cherry,” you tell her. Dean’s favorite. They order two slices which you deliver to them quickly before going into the kitchen. “Stew, I’m taking a 10,” you announce to the cook. He waves a hand at you and glances at the clock.

“Make it 5,” he shouts as you slip out the back door. Leaning against the wall with a sigh, you slip the brace off of your wrist and roll the sore joint slowly, wincing. 

“This job,” you mumble before pulling your phone from your apron. Going into your recent calls, you hit the name at the top. Dean. He wasn’t going to answer. He hadn’t in weeks after all, calls or texts. It rings…and rings…and rings. Just as you’re about to give up, the final ring is cut off.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice asks, curiously. Confusion and a million unpleasant thoughts sweep over you in an instant.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to reach Dean,” you say.

“This is his phone. At least, I think it is…who is this?” She asks. You sigh and run a hand over your face.

“My name’s Y/N. I…I work at a diner and Dean’s one of my regulars. I haven’t seen him in a while and…I was worried,” you tell her. You can hear the confusion in her voice when she responds.

“A waitress who has her customer’s numbers and calls to check up on them?” She asks.

“No. Well…yes, but…Dean’s more than just a customer,” you say.

“What exactly is Dean then?” She asks, a slight edge to her voice. What is Dean? That was the very question you’d spent countless nights asking yourself.

When Dean had first wandered into the diner and sat in your section, he was just another tip. Sure, the two of you had flirted but, to be honest, you flirted with most of your customers. You had bills to pay after all. He came back the very next night, claiming the pie had just been too good. On his fifth visit to the diner, he wandered in just as you clocked out and invited you to join him. You sat in that booth across from him for hours, laughing and talking. At the end of his seventh trip, you slipped your phone number to him on the back of his bill. He’d called you before his car was even out of the parking lot.

That was nearly a year ago and the two of you talked and texted regularly ever since. Sure, he’d go silent for a little while but then he’d saunter into the diner, give you a crooked smile, and ask for the pie of the day. Throughout that year, the two of you flirted, laughed, and teased each other.  There had been a few occasions when he’d catch you as you were leaving, place a to-go order, and then you’d ride in his car out to some deserted spot to talk and eat. You’d gotten to know each other intimately. In an emotional sense that is. Dean always kept you at arm’s length. He’d never asked you on a real date. Your coworkers insisted he was probably married and just stringing you along. And now some strange woman was answering his phone and…

“Y/N?” The woman on the line says.

“Sorry. A friend. Dean’s…a really good friend,” you tell her. “Can I ask who you are?”

“I’m Mary,” she starts and you immediately let out a heavy sigh.

“His mother. Of course,” you breathe with relief.

“Yes,” she says, slightly surprised.

“He’s talked about you a lot. Where is Dean?” You ask. Now, it was Mary’s turn to sigh.

“We don’t know,” she tells you.

“What?” You ask. “It’s his job, isn’t it?” You didn’t know exactly what Dean did but he’d come into the diner beaten and bruised on a few occasions.

“Well…yes,” she says.

“Have you called the police?”

“Y/N, break’s over,” Stew calls from the back door.

“Give me a minute!!” You yell to him. He grumbles and slams the door shut. “You have called the police, right, Mary?”

“That’s not exactly an option,” she says, slowly.

“Well…what about Sam? Or…or Cas?” You ask. There’s the briefest of pauses.

“I’m…I’m here with Mary,” a second voice says.

“And Sam was with Dean,” Mary adds. Cas was there as well, listening to your conversation. You frown and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to think.

“I want to help,” you tell them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but…we don’t even know you,” she says.

“Well, then, come meet me. I get off at 8:00,” you say before giving her the address for the diner. “If you don’t show up, I’ll call the police and report them missing myself.”

“We’ll be there,” Mary says before disconnecting the line. You slip the phone back into your apron pocket and run your hands over your face. Sliding the brace back onto your wrist, you head back into the diner.

The rest of your shift drags on slowly. You don’t make nearly as much as you could have on tips, your normal perky personality absent. At 8:15, you finally manage to clock out, throwing your apron into the dirty linens bag. You rush out the front door and look around, phone in hand. The front doors of an unfamiliar car open at the same time. Mary, you recognize her from the old pictures Dean had shown you, gets out of the driver’s side, and the man you assume to be Cas gets out as well.

“Y/N?” Mary asks, watching you. You nod and rush over to the two of them.

“While I wish it was under different circumstances, it’s nice to finally meet you both,” you tell them, holding a hand out. Mary gives you a quick once over before placing her hand in yours.

“I wish I could say the same but…”

“Dean never mentioned me,” you say. It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. You’d often wondered and now you knew for sure. You were a secret.

“So, what exactly do you know about their work?” Mary asks. You frown and shrug.

“Not much. I figure…best case, CIA…worst case, I dunno…the mafia,” you say, more than a little embarrassed. Mary smiles a little and looks down at the ground.

“Not exactly. It’s a bit more freelance than that,” she says.

“Like a bounty hunter?” You ask. Mary shakes her head, looking around.

“I’d rather not discuss it here. Would you be willing to go back to the bun…where the boys live and talk there?” She asks. 

“Of course,” you agree, immediately.

***

Never get in the car with strangers. The age old advice rang through your ears as you rode in the back seat to wherever Mary and Cas were taking you. Of course, these two weren’t exactly strangers. They were at least Dean’s mother and best friend. You truly felt like you actually knew them with how much he’d talked about them.

Mary continues to drive as you watch the cityscape disappear. It isn’t too long before she’s pulling onto a desolate looking road. The road leads into a dark tunnel, only lit by the headlights of Mary’s car. Your eyes have to readjust when she pulls into a much more brightly lit area. Looking around, you find a room that appears to be a garage holding several very old cars. This much at least screamed Dean, relaxing you a little.

“You said they live here?” You ask, trying to wrap your mind around that statement.

“Yes. It’s an old bunker. Used to be home to a secret society, the Men of Letters,” she tells you. You nod and try to keep your face in check. You can feel her watching you in the rearview mirror.

“Are they in this secret society then? You ask as she parks the car.

“No,” she answers. “It died out in America decades ago. There is still an active branch in London though.”

“Douchebags,” Cas mutters. You both look at him and he glances between the two of you. “That’s what Dean calls them.” You let out a small laugh as the three of you get out of the car. Mary leads the way through the bunker quietly. You follow, looking around and trying to take in as much as you can. She leads the two of you into what you assume is a library given the shelves of books all along the walls.

“You drink?” She asks, holding up a bottle of brown liquid. You nod as you take a seat at the table. Admittedly, you were more of a wine drinker but you felt the impending conversation would require something stronger. Mary pours two glasses and sets one in front of you before walking around to the other side of the table. She takes the seat opposite you and looks at the glass, swirling it slightly. “You sure about this, Y/N? Once you know the truth, leaving it behind can be pretty difficult.”

“Please,” is all you manage to say. She nods and throws her drink back quickly.

“Alright,” she starts. “I come from a long line of hunters. Not the kind you’re thinking of. My family hunted monsters. Ghosts, demons, witches, vampires.” You strive to keep your face in check as you take a slow drink. This was not what you were expecting at all.  “When I was 19, dating John, the boys’ father, a demon killed him and my parents. He offered me a deal. He would bring John back and we could live a normal life, as long as I gave him permission to enter my home in 10 years. I was suddenly alone and holding the dead body of the love of my life. I agreed. Ten years later, he entered my home and killed me. John took the boys on the road and they became hunters as well.”

Mary stops as you stand slowly and make your way over to the bottle she had used earlier. With shaking hands, you refill your glass before downing it quickly. This was insane. Mary was insane. There was no way this was real.

“Mary…I…you really expect me to believe all this?” You ask, looking back at her now. She shrugs slightly and looks at Cas. You’d forgotten he was even there. He’d been leaning against a bookshelf behind her, watching you. You look at him as he starts to make his way around the table towards you.

Panic quickly rises in your throat and you have to remind yourself that these are Dean’s people. At least…you’re fairly certain they are. You’d never seen pictures of Cas and the only ones you had seen of Mary were from when Dean was just a child. Now, this strange woman was trying to convince you that monsters were real and your friend hunted them for a living. Cas stops next to you and looks down at your hand.

“Why are you wearing that brace?” He asks. You blink, surprised. You’d half expected him to knock you unconscious.

“I, ummm…” You hold it up and shake your head. “Carpal Tunnel from work.” Cas nods and briefly touches two fingers to your forehead before you can even register the movement.

“You won’t need it anymore,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief before taking the brace off. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel any pain as you roll your wrist in every direction. You look back up at Cas and then at Mary. She smiles and shrugs.

“Angel,” she says. You know the shock is clear all over your face as Cas helps you back to your seat. The three of you sit in silence for a little while as you process all of this information. You’re grateful for the time they give you.

“You, ummm…” You stop and look at Mary. “You said you died.” She runs a hand across her forehead and looks at you, debating on if you’re prepared for more information. You give her the best reassuring smile you can manage at the moment.

“God’s sister brought me back as a thank you gift to Dean and Sam for helping her reunite with her brother,” she says. You’re absolutely certain your jaw hits the table. 

“Well…that was…nice,” you manage. “And they were on a…a hunt when they disappeared?”

“Lucifer had possessed the president of the United States,” Cas starts. “We were going to exorcise him and return him to his cage in hell.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, immediately beginning to massage your temples. “This is…this is a lot.”

“Now you know why Dean never told you,” Mary says. You nod, still attempting to rub away the migraine threatening to explode behind your eyes.

“I, ummm…can I take a walk?” You ask. Mary nods, smiling a little. You hoped you were handling this better than she expected. You’re still shaking as you rise from your seat again and make your way down one of the hallways. Your mind thinks back over things Dean had mentioned about his work and, frankly, it lined up. He’d never given you a lot of details but now it was starting to make sense.

You stop in the middle of the hallway and glance around. Your curiosity gets the better of you causing you to push open the door in front of you. It was a bedroom, modestly decorated. You make your way into the room and find a familiar picture sitting on the bedside table. It was the photo Dean had shown you of him and his mother. Glancing around the room, you surmise that it must be his room.

You pull open the drawer of the bedside table and gasp. Inside you find several things, another gun, a handful of credit cards, and fake ID’s. But the most surprising thing was sitting right on top. You gingerly pick up the picture and can’t help but smile. It’s of you, sitting in the front seat of Dean’s car, laughing. You remembered when he’d taken it, one of the many nights you’d spent talking. You didn’t realize he’d had it printed and kept it so close. Maybe you were more than just a secret.

“Y/N?” Mary asks from the doorway. You look up at her and she smiles. “I was getting ready to head out when you called, a vampire thing in Missouri. Cas said he’d take you back.”

“Thank you for being honest with me,” you tell her. She nods once and leaves you alone.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You call Stew and make up a story about a death in the family out of state, telling him you’ll need a week or two off. He reluctantly agrees. You stay at the bunker with Cas after that. Your days are spent diving into the lore books in the old bunker, learning anything and everything you can. Cas teaches you how to do “research”, showing you how to tell the difference between normal weird and supernatural weird. He shows you one of the spare bedrooms but you end up sleeping in Dean’s room instead. 

The two of you are making your way to the library when you hear Cas’s phone ringing. He rushes ahead to answer it and you go over to a new shelf to find something else to study.

“What?” He answers the phone. “Dean?” The book you’d picked out slips from your hand and you rush to his side. “What, what happened? Wh-where are you?” You stare at him, tears stinging your eyes. He grabs a pen and pad off the table and quickly jots down a note. Rocky Mountain National Park. State Route 34. “Yes. – Wait, where? – Wait, what does that…” Cas sighs and sets the phone down, frowning.

“What did he say?? Are they okay??” You ask. He glances at you and shrugs.

“He sounded rushed. Like they were being chased,” he says. You nod and pick up the notepad, trying to hide the rush of emotions you were feeling.

“We’ve got to call Mary. Meet up with her and get to Colorado,” you tell him. He looks at you quickly and frowns.

“No, Y/N. It’s too dangerous for you to come along,” he says, taking the notepad. You shake your head, tears falling freely as you look up at the angel.

“Cas, please,” you beg. His resolve breaks instantly and he sighs, picking his phone back up.

“Dean would not approve,” he mumbles before calling Mary.

The two of you pull into a parking lot several hours later. Mary’s car is already sitting, waiting. She gets out and clenches her jaw when she sees you rise from the passenger side of Cas’s car.

“You got here quickly,” Cas remarks. Mary nods, eyes fixed on you.

“Yep. What the hell is she doing here??” She asks. Cas sighs and looks over at you.

“Mary, please. I won’t get in the way, I swear,” you tell her. Frowning, she shakes her head, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Y/N, it’s not about you being in the way. We have no idea what we’re walking into. I’m more worried about you getting hurt and what that would do to Dean,” she says. Swallowing hard, you set your jaw. Mary wasn’t going to see you cry too.

“Please. I have to be there. I need to see him with my own eyes,” you plead. She watches you for a moment, debating internally.

“Dean’s gonna kill us,” she says before turning to Cas. “We may want backup.”

“Crowley and Rowena?” He asks. She scoffs and you glance between them.

“The King of Hell and his mother, the witch?” She asks. You frown and shake your head.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you comment. Mary smiles a little and looks at Cas.

“I hope we can do better than them.”

“I may have an idea,” he says. Mary nods and makes for the driver’s side of her own car.

“Good. Seat belts on. I drive fast,” she tells the two of you as you load into the car as well.

The British Men of Letters. That was Cas’s idea. Mary almost immediately pulls out, supposing “the demon and his mommy” don’t sound so bad anymore. You hang back, watching the situation unfold. The two Brits, Mick and Ketch from what you gather, offer their services seemingly free of charge. They make a few phone calls, getting access to a satellite of the area Dean had mentioned. Mary and Cas are able to deduce the direction they’re headed and a good spot to meet them.

The two cars move to the new location and you all unload once again. You look up at the night sky and think about the last night you’d spend with Dean. He’d picked you up from the diner at closing time and drove you out of town to a remote location. You’d both laid on the hood of the car, splitting the last of the pie of the day.

“Y/N,” Mary says, pulling you from your thoughts. You turn to face her and immediately launch into pleading again.

“Mary, please. I don’t want to wait here while you two go on…”

“Stop,” she says, holding her hand up. “That’s not what I was going to say. Dean’s already gonna be pissed we brought you. He’d kill us both if we left you with those two. Just stay close to us and if something goes wrong, run back here.” You manage a relieved smile and follow her and Cas further up into the woods.

The three of you come into a small clearing and it isn’t long before there’s a rustling in the brush. Cas and Mary both move into a defensive stance in front of you. You wring your hands as you wait. Cas takes a few steps closer to the noise just as Dean and Sam fall through the bushes. Your heart jumps into your throat at the sight of Dean and you almost break down crying right then.

“Sam, Dean,” Cas says, relieved. You can see the tension immediately leave Mary’s shoulders as she takes in the sight of her boys. Sam rises first and pulls Cas into a tight hug. His eyes land on Mary and he smiles.

“Mom,” he says, letting Cas go. He starts to make his way across the clearing towards her when you register the confusion on his face. Dean finally stands and hugs Cas as well. Sam pulls Mary into a tight embrace that she immediately returns. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“Y/N??” Dean’s voice rings across the clearing. You smile, swallowing back tears, and wave slightly. “The hell is she doing here??” His voice is thick with anger as he makes his way over to Mary. The venom in his words takes you by surprise. Mary raises her hands slightly.

“She was worried about you. Called your phone. I answered and she wanted to help,” she explains. You and Dean stand there, staring at each other. Dean’s eyes are full of a rage you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“How much do you know?” He asks.

“A lot more than I did a week ago,” you tell him. He shakes his head and looks to the sky before looking at his mother.

“Hey, Mom,” he mumbles, pulling her into a hug. She lets out a gasp of surprise and returns the embrace. Dean’s eyes never leave your face. “Let’s get out of here,” he says before walking straight past you.

You take a shaky breath and run your hands over your face. You had anticipated he’d be angry, of course. But you had hoped the joy of being together again would cancel that anger out at some point. Mary pats your shoulder before she starts to follow Dean. You debate on staying right there in the woods for a moment before falling in step behind them. Sam clears his throat slightly as you all walk.

“Mom, how did yall even find us?” He asks, attempting to break the tension.

“They helped,” she says, pointing to Mick and Ketch as they come into view.

“Dammit!! They know about her now too??” He groans, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, get in the car.” You stare at him in disbelief for a moment. “Car. Now,” he demands. You wipe at your eyes furiously as you storm back to Mary’s car. Sliding into the middle of the back seat, you realize for the first time that the Dean you knew and this Dean, the real Dean, may not be the same person.

The five of them talk for only a moment before coming to the car. Cas takes the passenger seat quickly and Dean doesn’t hide the dirty look he gives him. You shake your head, unable to believe that having to sit by you in the car was that unsettling. Had you misinterpreted your entire relationship? Sam gets in on your other side and smiles at you, awkwardly.

“Y/N, wasn’t it?” He asks. You look at him and smile bitterly.

“Yes. It’s nice to finally meet you Sam. I’ve heard so much about you. And don’t worry. I know the feeling can’t be mutual. You’ve never heard of me before, have you?” You ask, letting your anger burst out for a moment. Dean’s hand tightens into a fist on his leg as he stares out the window. Sam’s awkward smile becomes apologetic before Mary changes the subject, filling them in on everything they’d missed.

Mary continues to drive on into the night. You catch Sam and Dean both nervously glancing at the clock at the front of the car. They seem to only be getting more anxious as the minutes tick by.

“So wait, you're hunting?” Dean asks his mother. She glances back at him in the mirror and shrugs.

“A little bit,” she says. Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Yea, I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teases.

The exact second the clock switches over to 12:00, midnight, the car dies. Mary eases it onto a bridge as she tries the key again.

“It’s time,” Sam says, getting out of the car. You look at him then over at Dean.

“Stay in the car,” Dean tells you. Rolling your eyes, you slide out right behind him, tired of being ordered around tonight. The others all get out as well and look around, taking in their surroundings.

“What’s happening?” Mary asks.

“Yea, Dean. Sup?” A new voice says. You all look over to find a woman standing in the middle of the bridge. You look around, trying to figure out where she could have possibly come from. Dean takes an immediate step in front of you, shielding your entire body. Instinctively, you step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his back, assuring him you were there and okay.

“Billie?” Mary asks, recognition and confusion mixed on her face.

“The reaper?” Cas asks. You close your eyes, trying to think back over your studies. It wasn’t one of things you’d become familiar with but gauging everyone’s reactions, this wasn’t a good thing.

“I don’t understand,” Mary says, shaking her head. Dean sighs and hangs his head.

“Mom, that place…there was only one way we were getting out of there, and that wasn’t breathing,” he starts to explain. You glance around at everyone and notice the horrified look on Cas’s face. “So I made a call.”

“Dean talked to her and then Billie came to talk to me,” Sam continues the story. “And we made a deal. We’d get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange…”

“Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-bye. Like, permanently,” Billie says, smiling. “And that is something  I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

“No,” you whisper from behind Dean.

“Why would you –,” Mary starts.

“We were already dead,” Dean tells her. “Being locked in that cell with nothing…I’ve been to Hell. This was worse.”

“At least this way, one of us gets to keep fighting,” Sam finishes. You shake your head, taking a step away from Dean.

“No,” you say again. He looks over his shoulder at you and his anger has completely dissolved. “Dean, no.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Billie says, waving. You look at her in utter shock but Dean steps between the two of you again.

“Leave her out of this,” he growls.

“You don’t have to do this,” Cas says, shaking his head.

“Yea, they do,” Billie says. “We made a pact bound in blood, You break that, there’s consequences on a cosmic scale. So, who’s it gonna be?” She asks, looking between the brothers. Sam looks at Dean, then at you, and back to Dean who shakes his head.

“Me,” Mary says before either of them can answer. She turns to face Billie, pulling her handgun from her waistband. Sam and Dean both immediately object, stepping forward to stop her. Billie flings both of them away with a wave of her hand. You rush to Dean’s side and fall next to him, immediately checking him for injuries. He shakes his head and fights to rise to his feet again.

“You said come midnight, a Winchester dies?” Mary asks. “I’m a Winchester.”

“Works for me,” Billie says with a smile. Mary cocks the gun and raises it toward her head. Sam and Dean both object loudly again, fighting to get to her.

“I love you,” Mary sniffs. Just as she’s about to pull the trigger, a sharp pointed blade pierces through Billie’s chest from behind and she immediately falls dead. You stare in shock at the dead body lying before you. Cas stands over her, the blade in his hand dripping blood. Mary lowers her gun as Dean and Sam are finally able to get to their feet. Dean takes your hand, pulling you up as well. You begin to pale as you stare at the body.

“Cas, what have you done?” Dean asks, looking at his best friend in shock.

“What had to be done,” he says. “You know this world – this sad, doomed little world – it needs you…” Your ears begin to ring and you take a shaky step closer to Dean. His arm comes around your waist, eyes never leaving Cas as he continues to talk. Something about keeping all the Winchesters alive.

“Dean,” Mary says, pointing to you. “First dead body.” Dean looks down at you just as you go completely limp in his arms.

**

Dean runs his hands over his face before taking a long swig off his beer. A lot had happened in the last day; dying, coming back again, running, fighting for their lives, getting back to their family, you, Billie, you, Cas killing a reaper…you. That was really the only thing on his mind…you. He had so carefully built a relationship with you. A relationship based on half truths and secrets but a relationship nevertheless. Now, you knew the whole nasty truth. It was going to be Lisa all over again…

“Dean?” Mary asks, sticking her head into the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder and smiles a little. “Can I join you?” Nodding, he points to the empty seat across from him. She walks over, taking the seat quietly. He stares at the bottle in his hands. “Dean…”

“You shouldn’t have told her,” he tells her firmly. “It wasn’t your place. I didn’t want her to know. She was safer not knowing. Now…I’ll never see her again.”

“What? Why?” Mary asks, confused. Dean stands and throws his empty bottle into the trash.

“To keep her safe!!” He snaps, spinning on her angrily. “People around me don’t hang around too long. They either run or they die. It’s as simple as that. Especially the ones who mean the most to me. And she means…” He stops abruptly, emotion closing up his throat. Mary frowns as she stands and walks over to him.

“It only seems that way, Dean. Y/N, she’s…she’s strong. She took everything I told her in stride and she stayed. She stayed here with Cas and she’s been learning how to do the job,” she tells him.

“That’s even worse!! I don’t want her anywhere near this,” he says, fighting back tears. “If it was just normal hunter stuff then maybe but the stuff we deal with…Lucifer and Amara and God…I want her as far away from all of this as possible.”

“Don’t you think she should get a say in this?” Mary asks. He shakes his head, stubbornly.

“No. Soon as she wakes up, I’m taking her back home. I’ll never go back to that diner.. She’ll never see or hear from me again,” he says.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, standing just outside the kitchen door. You turn on your heels and rush down the hall towards the garage. Your car was there and you’d spent enough time at the bunker to know how to get out. You hadn’t heard much but you heard enough. Dean didn’t want to see you anymore, plain and simple.

***

Three months, five days.

That’s how long it had been since you last saw Dean. You’d left the bunker, rejected and heartbroken, and Dean had kept his word. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t come in for any pie. Life was back to normal. Boring, regular, normal. You found yourself reading into everything you saw on the news, wondering if it was a case Dean could be working at that very moment. 

You’d volunteered to close down the diner for yet another night. Floors were mopped. Counters and tables wiped down. All you had left to do was lock up. Flipping off the lights, you step outside into the cool night air. You turn to lock the door when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. Damn it. You’d been so lost in thoughts about what you had believed was a werewolf in Michigan you hadn’t checked the parking lot first.

“Hello, love,” a heavy British accent says. There’s nothing familiar and certainly nothing friendly about the greeting. You stand frozen for a moment, weighing your options. You didn’t have many.

“We’re closed,” you say, not turning to face him yet.

“Not here for the pie,” he jokes. He’s closer than he had been.

“Look. My manager has already taken the deposit to the bank. I’ve got a few bucks in my purse and that’s it. I haven’t seen your face yet. You can turn around and leave, no consequences,” you tell him.

“Afraid not. Got a job to do. A message for your little hunter boyfriend,” he says. You let out a short laugh.

“You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree,” you say. His reflection is in the glass of the door now, standing right behind you. You take a deep breath and turn to face him finally. “Dean Winchester doesn’t care about me. Hurting me, won’t hurt him in any way.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, brandishing a knife. You bring your knee up, hitting him in the groin. He grunts and doubles over, giving you enough time to run towards your car. Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t slow him down enough. Before you can make it to the car, he’s grabbed you by your waist, knife at your throat. “Any last words I can pass on to the Winchesters?” He breathes in your ear.

“Go to hell,” you spit at him. You feel the knife press harder against your skin as angry tears slide down your cheeks. What a way to go. Dying for a man who couldn’t care less.

Before the Brit can finish you off, a car whips into the dark parking lot, lights shining bright on the two of you. It takes your attacker by surprise and you feel his grip relax just enough. A sharp elbow to his abdomen has him letting you go. You fall to your knees as you attempt to run away. The car skids to a stop and you hear the voice you’d only dreamt of hearing again.

“Y/N!!” Dean yells as he runs at your attacker. He tackles him, knocking the knife from his hand as the two men hit the ground. Mary runs to your side as Sam runs to help Dean. You weren’t sure why. Dean had the upper hand, sitting atop the man, punching him in the face. Repeatedly. That’s when you realize, Sam wasn’t helping Dean. He was pulling him off.

“Dean, it’s over,” he tells his brother. “He’s dead.” Mary helps you to your feet, examining you as Dean makes his way over, wiping his bloodied hand off on his shirt.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Dean asks, taking your face in his hands. He looks you over and frowns at the knick on your neck. Running his thumb over it gently, he wipes the blood away. 

“I’m fine,” you mutter, taken aback by his gentleness and concern. Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into a crushing hug. You gasp and freeze before slowly returning the embrace. Mary touches Sam’s shoulder and nods back towards the dead body. They slip away to deal with that and give you two some privacy. “Dean…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I put you in so much danger,” he says, letting you go. “I didn’t know we were being watched. I didn’t know.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” You ask.

“The British Men of Letters. Turns out it was a join or die type of situation. They’ve been watching all of us for a while now. They knew about you before you ever knew anything,” he explains. “They had brainwashed Mom but we just got her back. Sam and Jody led a raid of the Brits’ headquarters. Saw the pictures of you, of us here. We got here as quick as we could.” He winces now and you finally register how badly beaten he looks.

“What happened to you?” You ask, knowing your attacker hadn’t even gotten one good swing in. He limps over to his car and leans back against the hood.

“Grenade launcher,” he says, pointing to his leg. “Bad fight with Ketch.” He points to the rest of himself.

“Gre...huh??”

“They locked us in the bunker. Shut off the air supply. It was our only way out. And it was freaking awesome,” he says, smirking now. You roll your eyes at him and try not to smile, fighting back that familiar feeling he always gave you.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be more careful. Try not to close up by myself anymore,” you tell him, crossing your arms. He nods slightly, watching you.

“Or you could come with me,” he says. You scoff a laugh and shake your head.

“You don’t have to babysit me, Dean. I’ll be fine,” you say.

“What?” He asks. You shrug, trying to give him a confident smile.

“I’m officially relieving you of the burden of my safety. Whatever happens to me, happens. Don’t let it get to your conscious,” you tell him, looking around for your purse.

“Y/N,” Dean says. He watches you walk over and pick up the discarded item. You throw it over your shoulder and look back at him. “Come here,” he says gently, holding a hand out.

“You don’t want me. I know that. Please stop this,” you say, looking down at the gravel under your feet. You hear him sigh and look up as he starts to limp towards you. “No. Stop. You’re hurt.” He rolls his eyes now before taking your face in his hands for the second time tonight. This time his eyes aren’t searching for injuries. They’re searching for answers.

“Why would you think I don’t want you?” He asks, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. You get lost in the green of his eyes for a moment before the memory of that night comes back.

“I heard you with Mary. You said I wouldn’t see or hear from you again. And I haven’t since I left the bunker that day,” you tell him, hating to relive those harsh words. He nods, his hands leaving your face. They don’t go far though, immediately coming to rest on your hips.

“Is that all you heard?” He asks. You nod, wishing he’d just let you go home instead of dragging this out. “I didn’t leave you alone because I didn’t want you. I left you alone because I needed to keep you safe, because I want you too much, because I care about you too much.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare up at him. You had to have died and gone to heaven for him to be saying these things, the things you wanted him to say so desperately.

“You were so mad when you saw me…”

“Because I didn’t want you anywhere near this life. Hunting, especially the things we end up hunting, it’s dangerous,” he pauses and closes his eyes. “I had just made a deal with a reaper to die. Again. I’d already resolved myself to the fact I wasn’t going to get to say a proper goodbye to you, tell you how I felt, how happy you’ve made me over the past year…and then you were there, right smack in the middle of everything. I was furious, yea, but not at you. I was mad at myself. I never shoulda came back here to begin with.”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head. Nothing was making sense. Nothing but the feel of his hands on your waist. That was good. That was right.

“I fell for you so hard that first night I came in for dinner. I was just supposed to come in, pick up something for me and Sam, and head back to the bunker. But when I walked in and saw you…I had to know you,” he recalls. “I thought a couple of visits couldn’t hurt. I could just be a customer, see you, talk to you. Maybe you’d eventually learn my name. That third time I came in and saw you getting ready to leave I was devastated. So I asked you to join me, thinking there wasn’t a chance in hell. You’d just gotten off work. Surely you wanted to get out of there and get home. But you stayed and you sat with me and…I knew I was in trouble.” You’re crying now. You don’t know exactly when the tears started but they were falling quickly. Dean brings one hand up and wipes at each of your cheeks gently. “And then you gave me your number…man, I almost called you from the booth,” he laughs. You do as well, reaching up and taking his hand. You press a kiss into his palm.

“I never knew what we were. I was so confused,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry. I kept going back and forth. I told myself it was too dangerous, you were safer as my friend. But then I’d get you alone, in my car and…” His hand tightens slightly on your hip and he pulls you impossibly closer. “I wanted you so desperately.” His voice dropped lower and his eyes bore into your own.

“I wanted you too,” you just manage to whisper. His forehead is touching yours now. Your eyes flutter close as his breath washes over your face.

“No more secrets,” he says before finally bringing his lips in to meet yours. This isn’t a gentle, chaste first kiss. Your lips move desperately against his as your arms wrap around his neck. It was everything you’d imagined and nothing like you could have dreamed all at the same time. His lips were chapped but gentle. He tasted of mint and whiskey. The way his hands moved over your back, one sliding just beneath your shirt to caress the skin at the small of your back, was intoxicating. You force yourself to pull away, remembering that his family was in the near vicinity.

“I have one secret,” you admit. He looks down at you expectantly. “I freaking hate this job.” He laughs and shakes his head, kissing you once more quickly.

“Sweetheart, I got bad news. That ain’t a secret,” he teases. You laugh too as Dean looks over your shoulder at the diner. “This place is gonna go under without your pie. It’s the only reason anyone comes back.”

“Including you?” You ask. His smile turns into a smirk as he looks back down at you.

“Why do you think I’m keeping you at the bunker?” He asks. Laughing again, you try to step out of his arms but they only tighten around you. His face is suddenly serious again as he watches you. “But only if you’re absolutely sure. I can’t stress enough how dangerous this life is.” You smile as you take his face in your hands.

“Dean,” you start. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, Dean kisses you once again.

You leave your diner key in the door and a note taped to the glass.

I quit. -Y/N

****

Tags: @roseblue373

[arjwrites]

— Good to know bc im here to request another Castiel x Winchester!reader (oldest sister) hehehehe...

Remember when Castiel became a human and that reaper April used him? I was thinking about the reader in her place, where she ACTUALLY likes Cas and takes care of him. The reader really loves him and doesn't care that he's a human now with no angel powers, he's still the man/angel she loves and care (I'm still mad that Dean kicked Cass out of the bunker)

It's his first time being human, he deserves some love 😞 (And I rlly need some comfort aughhh)

I think I wrote too much, sorry! It's just that I really love human Castiel, he deserved more ❤️‍🩹 — 👼 angel anon

Lessons on Humanity- Human!Castiel x Reader

Summary: Human!Cas arrives on your doorstep in need of a helping hand. Taking him under your wing, you offer him more than he bargained for.

Warnings: None (I don't think???) GN!Reader, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Well, this took forever. Idk why this gave me the WORST case of writer's block ever, but.... I think I just wanted it to be perfect for you, angel anon!!! I hope you enjoy hehehehehe <3333

Leaving hunting behind had been a tough decision, but leaving your brothers and Castiel behind had been even harder. But after all the years, your body screamed for rest, and your heart mourned the years of loss and trauma. It wasn’t like you had completely up and abandoned them- you still took their calls, visited the bunker from time to time, and took on many a research request (which had always been your specialty anyways). But you had grown so tired of the life. And as much as moving into the bunker had been a massive improvement from the endless series of motel rooms you’d grown up with, living in a concrete man-cave with your brothers had proven difficult. And you had always craved a home- somewhere that could be uniquely yours. This had led you to settle down into a sweet cottage, a bit off the beaten path in a quaint little town- not too far from the bunker, but far enough. It was cozy, nothing fancy by any means- two small bedrooms, a slightly outdated kitchen, and a snug little living room you had furnished with thrifted couches and a secondhand TV. What it lacked in elegance, it made up for in character. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

It was a Friday night. You had just gotten off work, ordered a pizza, popped your favorite playlist in your speakers, and were currently dancing around and vacuuming your living room. Ah, domesticities. It was always a nice feeling to be done for the weekend, to have a job you could hang up for a few days and not worry about until Monday morning rolled around. Not like hunting, with its worries that clung tight to you all hours of every day. After finishing your cleaning task, you flopped to the couch, clicking through the TV to find a suitable show to binge alongside your food. 

Two crisp knocks at the door pulled you from your search. That was quick, you thought to yourself. You practically skipped to the kitchen to grab your purse, wanting to hand the delivery driver a few extra dollars for the particularly speedy service. But when you swung the door open, more than just the chilly evening air sent a wave of shock your way. 

“Oh my God,” was about all you could whisper. In front of you stood Castiel, though he didn’t look much like his usual self. He wore a sweatshirt you didn’t recognize and had a slightly unkempt, unshaven look to him. But beyond his appearance, it didn’t feel like Cas. His shoulders were slumped over as if he was carrying the weight of them for the first time. He wore an expression so tired, so hurt, that your heart broke at the sight of it. 

“Cas, honey. What happened?” 

“I don’t have my grace. I… lost it. They told me I couldn’t stay. I didn’t want to bother you, but… I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“Oh, Cas. Come in, God, come in.” Your brow furrowed as you gestured for him to enter, concern filling your body. What had you missed? Why didn’t he have his grace? Why wasn’t he with Sam and Dean?

Cas gingerly stepped through your door, barely making it inside the threshold before turning to you, as if he was waiting to follow your lead.

“Come, come sit,” you beckoned him after you, leading him into the living room and patting a seat for him on the couch. He sat, glancing around your room before landing his gaze back to you. You could tell there was something different about him- it was like he was seeing everything around him for the first time. 

“So tell me what happened, Cas,” you hummed, gathering every ounce of soothing calm you could muster in hopes you could offer him some comfort.

Cas jumped into his story, telling you all about Metatron, the angels, and him losing his grace- all the things you had missed out on since stepping back from hunting. You nodded along, listening intently, compassionately, quietly- that is, until he told you about the events that lead him to your doorstep.

“He kicked you OUT?” You rose to your feet as he said this, unable to contain your anger in your seated posture. You felt the rage bubble from the deepest part of your stomach, rising quickly to your chest. Poor, sweet Castiel, who tries so hard and deserves so much. Cast out like he was nothing. It was enough to drive you into a blind rampage. Cas, on the other hand, remained seated, eyes fixed to the carpet, dejected. 

“I just don’t know what to do. I have all these… feelings I’m not used to.” 

“Of course you don’t, honey. It’s all so new. I’ll help you figure things out, alright?” You thought for a moment about what may be most urgent. “Cas, how long have you been human for?”

“Well, a few days now.”

“And have you eaten? Drank water? Slept?” 

“I had a candy bar.” 

“Oh, you poor thing, Cas. Look… Sit tight, I’m going to get you a glass of water, and I have food on the way. Do you like pizza? No, you don’t know if you like pizza, do you…” You let your voice trail off as you hustled to the kitchen, fixing him a glass of water and returning it to him hastily. 

Cas lifted the glass, inspecting it, before tipping it back and downing it in one go. You watched the water slide out of the cup, disappearing down his throat in record time. There was one basic need supported. 

“Alright, Cas, why don’t you sit there and relax for a little? I’m going to go make up the guest bedroom for you. Is that alright?” You tilted your head to the side to better gauge his thoughts on the matter. Cas returned you a soft smile and nodded. You let out a subtle puff of breath in relief before retreating up the stairs. 

As you grabbed bedding from the linen closet and began to stretch the fitted sheet over the mattress, you couldn’t help but allow your body to take over the menial routine, while your mind fluttered off elsewhere. The angry pit in your stomach persisted, a deepening disgust for the way the angel had been treated, including by your brothers, of all people. But nestled in your chest above your swirling stomach sat your heart, which swelled at the thought of Cas, here with you. In all honesty, he had always meant a lot to you. You had so much admiration, so much reverence for the angel- of course, now that he wasn’t exactly an angel, that didn’t change anything. That was never what it was about. You saw deeper than just Cas’s angelic power- you saw him. Grace or not, there was no changing that. This was still the same angel, the same man, the same being you had always known. Only now, he really needed someone to be there for him. And you intended to do that- slowly, surely, gently. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your name being called from down the stairs. Instantly, your mind snapped to the worst-case scenario- call it a lingering hunter’s instinct. You raced down the stairs, only to find Cas perched on the couch, exactly where you had left him.

“Someone knocked on the door,” he whispered wide-eyed, as if it was some sort of intruder behind the door, waiting politely to be let in so he could go about his business.

You breathed a sigh of relief, willing yourself not to get frustrated at the poor man- he had no idea. Scared, lost, confused Castiel. 

“It’s just the pizza, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” you replied, giving him a soft smile of encouragement. 

With the pizza paid for, food on your plates, and your favorite mindless comfort show on TV, you and Cas began to settle in for the night. You and Cas. It was insane to see the angel in such a domestic setting. The two of you were sat at opposite ends of the couch, nibbling pizza in silent unison. You weren’t sure what to do or say, overwhelmed by Cas’s newfound presence, heartbroken by the things he had experienced, and overall just worried for his wellbeing. But, out of fear of pushing his limits- he had already been through so much the last few days- you fell into a comfortable silence that padded the space between you. 

That silence was broken by a yawn coming from the other end of the couch. Cas’s face contorted in a decidedly un-angelic expression, before drawing inwards in confusion. A giggle inched its way towards your lips, but you suppressed it.

“You must be tired, Cas. Let’s go up to bed,” you hummed. Quickly and efficiently, you snapped off the TV, balanced your drinking glasses and plates on top of the pizza box, and slid everything into its rightful place in the kitchen. Re-emerging to the living room, you extended a hand to Cas, pulling him up to his feet before turning to lead him up the stairs. 

“This is your room, over here,” you pointed, ducking in the door to show him around. You snapped the bedside lamp on to illuminate the space. “The bathroom is just down the hall if you need to use it. And my room is just next door, if you need anything at all.” 

Cas’s eyes scanned the room before settling back on you. He threw a tight-lipped smile, murmuring his thanks. He was bashful, certainly overwhelmed by the avalanche of human emotion and sensation he was experiencing. You really didn’t want to push it, but there was one more thing you wanted to offer him. 

Crossing the room, you pulled Cas into a hug. You felt his hands hover for a moment before he rested them across the middle of your back.

“I’m sorry, Cas. You didn’t deserve any of this. But I’m here to help you, whatever you need, okay? You deserve to have someone be there for you.” It was a desperate plea for the man to recognize his self-worth, to provide him with a bit of comfort during this terrifying transition. Your words weighed heavy in the room, anticipating a response that never came. But, you could’ve sworn you felt Cas’s shoulders dip and the muscles of his back soften into the hug. 

After a minute, you pulled away, snapping back to your lighthearted self. You wished the man a good night, retreating from the room and closing the door behind you. Crossing the hall and tucking yourself into bed, it wasn’t long before you drifted to sleep.

-

You rose early the next morning. Usually, you would stroll downstairs in your bathrobe or whatever mismatched pajamas you slept in, but this morning you hopped in the shower straight away, dressing and fixing your hair. Once you made your way down to the kitchen, you got to work pulling together a breakfast you thought Cas would enjoy- pancakes, bacon, and some fruit, all while brewing a pot of coffee. You weren’t sure he’d have much of a taste for it yet, but you certainly were in need of a cup. 

As you neared the end of your preparation, you heard the guest bedroom door swing open. Cas descended the stairs into the kitchen, somehow looking slightly more disheveled than when he had arrived on your doorstep the night before.

“Good morning, sunshine!” You offered, hoping he would take it in jest.

“Hello,” he responded. His eyes were puffed with sleep, his hair stuck up in every possible direction, face dotted with yesterday’s stubble that was inching into scruffy beard territory. Looking at him was a clear reminder that you needed to help him figure out how to clean himself up today. 

“How’d you sleep, hun?” In any other conversation, this would be a simple pleasantry, but in this case, it was an earnest inquiry.

“Not well. I think I had a dream. It was terrible,” he replied. His gaze remained vacant.

“A dream?” You thought for a moment- was it the sensation of dreaming that he wasn’t used to? Or was it a nightmare? “Tell me about it, Cas.”

“Well, I don’t remember a lot of it. I just remember I was running. And when I woke up, my heart was pounding and I was sweating and I couldn’t breathe. But I didn’t actually run- just in the dream.” 

“Oh, Cas, honey, you had a nightmare.” You approached him, reaching up a hand to run a thumb over his stubbled cheek. “If that ever happens again, you can always come into my room. I’m right next door.”

“How will that help?” He inquired.

“Well, sometimes it’s nice to talk about it, if you want. Or, sometimes it’s just nice to be around someone else, so you don’t feel like you’re facing it alone.”

His nod in response sent a surge of care through your body. Rather than sitting there, gushing over him, you figured you’d channel your worry into something productive- getting him fed. 

“Well, I made some breakfast. Have a seat, I’ll make you a plate.”

You pulled out a chair for him at the table, gesturing for him to sit down, before scrambling to pull together a plate piled high with a stack of pancakes, a few slices of bacon, and some strawberries and bananas you had carefully sliced. You rested the plate in front of him, giving him a minute to inspect it, before returning to grab food for yourself. 

“Well, what do you think? I figured chocolate chip pancakes would be a safe bet. Everyone likes chocolate chip pancakes.”

Castiel clumsily sliced another bite from the pancake, lifting it to his mouth. He chewed pensively, mulling over the question.

“How do I know if I like it?” 

You thought for a moment.

“Good question. Does it make you feel happy?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Well, Cas, I think you’ll find that one of the great joys of humanity is the opportunity to figure out what makes you happy. We don’t get a lot of say in what goes on down here, but we do get to pick our favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite people, and fill our lives with those. It’s the small pleasures that make the difference.”

He considered your words for a moment, before spearing another bite with his fork. You giggled to yourself. It was adorable to watch him navigate the things you took for granted with so much fascination and uncertainty- something as small as taking a bite of food required all of his concentration and contemplation.

As you sipped your coffee, you considered the task that lay before you. It was your job to teach Cas how to be human- something you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself an expert on. With hunting dominating your upbringing and occupation thus far, you certainly hadn’t had the normal human experience. But you took the challenge in stride, knowing that Cas had much to learn. 

-

Saturday had come and gone. You had spent the entire day teaching Cas a crash course in human life skills, covering important topics like brushing your teeth (which proved more difficult than you thought it would be), remembering to drink water (you struggled with this yourself most of the time), shopping (the two of you thrifted him a whole wardrobe), and anything else you could think of as you went about your usual routine. 

As the day wound down, you and Cas sat on your back porch. The emerging twilight buzzed, and a warm breeze filtered through the trees and wrapped itself around the two bodies curled up in the lawn chairs. You were tired, he was tired, so another comfortable silence had settled into its now familiar place between the two of you. You could faintly hear the sound of children laughing and a mother calling after them, voices muffled by the distance that separated you from these neighbors down the street. You smiled to yourself, and Cas took notice. 

“Thank you for helping me today,” he offered hesitantly, as if afraid to disturb your thoughts.

“Anytime, Cas.” You were still a bit lost in thought as you responded.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why does being human feel so… Heavy?”

There was something about his tone of voice that snapped you out of your daze. Turning to him, you instantly recognized the worry that was weighing on him. 

“I just… I used to be a soldier. I had divine purpose. I’ve always had something to work towards, and now… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“Life is a complicated thing, Cas. Most people spend an entire lifetime figuring out their purpose. You may be thousands of years old, but you’ve only been doing the whole human thing for a few days. Be patient with yourself.” 

“You seem to handle it all pretty well. Leaving hunting, making a life for yourself. You have it all figured out,” he frowned.

“Want to know a secret?”

He nodded, silently, eagerly. 

“I’m not handling it well. And I don’t have it all figured out. Nobody does. That’s the whole game. That’s life. You take what you’re given and you do what you can with it. But the beauty is, you get to choose.” 

“How do I know what to choose?” 

You smiled in spite of yourself. 

“That’s the big question. No one knows what’s right for you except you.” 

Cas’s hand reached across to yours, giving it a squeeze that sent your heart aflutter. Fingers intertwined, you settled back into the evening, pensive.  

- 

Sleep that night hadn’t come easy by any means. What had started as worry had now spiraled into full-on anxiety, warding you away from slipping into sleep. Each time you closed your eyes, your mind drifted down the hall to Castiel, separated from you by nothing more than a dozen footsteps and couple pieces of drywall. It was as if you could feel his inner turmoil. And beyond that, your heart ached for the man. All you wanted to do was go to him, be with him, comfort him. But the fear that you were taking advantage of his newly human state still plagued you, so you lingered rigid and sleepless in your bed. Just as you rolled over to attempt comfort and hopefully find some sleep, there was the faintest knock at your door- so quiet, you barely registered it. 

At first, you weren’t sure if you had actually heard the sound, but when the noise was followed by slow footsteps shuffling away, you snapped up in bed.  

“Cas! Come in,” you called. After a second, the door swung open.

“I had another one. A nightmare.” Cas spoke matter of factly, and yet, very soft and reserved. He lingered in your doorway, timid, waiting for you to give your blessing on his entrance.

“Oh, come in, sweetheart. Come sit.” You patted the space beside you, the noise muffled by the thick, fluffy comforter. Cas made his way into a seated position on the bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, hesitant to pry but insistent on providing support.

“No.” His response was tense and succinct without being rude- you knew he was processing a lot of feelings, and wanted to give him grace.

“That’s okay. Would you like some time to think through it? Or would you like to be distracted?” 

“I’m not sure.”

“Take your time. I’m here.” 

There was a beat of silence. Giving him space was your top priority, as much as you wanted to leap across the bed and into his arms. 

“Maybe, distracted?”

“Sure thing. I’ll put on a movie, we can watch for a bit.” You snatched the remote from the table beside you, flipping through a few movies you thought Cas may enjoy, before settling on a lighthearted Disney movie. Your finger pressed play and adjusted the volume to a dull hum. 

You watched for a while in silence. As the movie was picking up, breaking out into a cheerful musical number, your eyes darted to Cas. Expecting to see him enamored by the animated wonderland, you were taken aback when his eyes locked with yours instantly. It was like he had been looking at you the whole time. 

“Hey, Cas.” He wouldn’t look away, and the eye contact was entrancing.

“Hi.” His voice was gruff, a mix of sleep and something else you weren’t entirely sure of, though you were starting to get an idea. 

“How are you doing?” 

“Better, now. Because I’m with you.” His words sent a wave of warmth through your body as you felt yourself inching closer to him, subconsciously. Clearly, he felt the same pull, as you both shifted to face each other directly. 

“Can I ask you about another feeling?” He was usually bashful with his questions, but this time, his voice was steady. His eyes were fixed on you with an almost palpable intensity, a kind of focus that made you fidget, suddenly so aware of yourself. 

“Of course,” you responded. He was now just inches away from your face. 

“What is this feeling I get when I’m this close to you?” His words were slow and genuine, and yet in some ways, it seemed like he already knew.

“What do you mean?” 

“It feels a lot like the nightmare. My heart beats fast and I can’t breathe. But it’s… Different. It’s good. I like it.” His eyes flickered as the words melted you.

He was so close to your face you could feel each breath tickle your nose and lips, as if pressing gentle precursors to tease you into taking the next step.

“Can I try something else you might like?” You could barely speak above a whisper.

He began to nod, lifting his head, but before he could complete the motion, all your defenses came crashing down, and you melted together- lips and limbs intertwining as one. And for the first time since becoming human, Castiel truly felt peace.

-

There’s something special about humanity. Sure, it has its ups and downs. There’s pain, fear, grief, death. Cas knew all those things already. They were what scared him most when he lost his grace. But he could have never known this, without experiencing it for himself. 

The early hours of the morning crept into the bedroom. Everything about the room was warm and soft- a kind of heaven that rivaled even the real thing. Cas watched as the rays of sun slipped through the window to kiss your skin softer, sweeter, more intimately than he ever had. Yet. 

There were many things about being human he hadn’t been prepared for. He had lost purpose, drive, direction. When he was first stripped of his grace, it had felt like his newfound heartbeat was mocking him with every pulse. But now? That heart served to pump more than just blood through his veins. His heart beat for you. His whole angelic life, he had been guided by divine word, but nothing had ever felt as holy as you, here, sleeping in his arms. You had taught him humanity, alright. And now, he finally had the chance to do something, to feel something, to experience something more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. He could love you.

Cas let the sounds of your breathing lull him back to sleep.

[astr0exe]

I come to you requesting a Phillip Graves x extremely socially anxious TM reader, like so anxious that poor boy can't order his own food at a resturant or fast food place without making at least 20 grammatical errors in a 10 word sentence(too real)

Lil anxiety baby (me) basically gonna be projecting so bad on this but oh well !! Some sweet domestic fluff w/ dominant Graves who orders for you. :) short but sweet !! 3 posts in 9 hours is crazy lol ‼️i hope you like this ml <3 have a great day 🩶

Your hands are always shaking, or fidgeting with something, especially your husband’s hands. Graves is always there for you, even when it’s slightly embarrassing despite how smug and happy it makes him. He doesn’t even need to ask what your order is, already knowing (this man has amazing memory) from the last time you guys came here. His hand is hold yours softly, letting you play with his cold rings as you keep your head down at the table.

His voice is confident as he speaks, conveying both your orders to the server without a second glance or any hesitation. Smiling at you once he has ordered, knowing it helps you makes him happy. All he wants is to help you and for you to be happy. If that means ordering you food then he will do it until he dies.

[supernaturalfreewill]

reader pronouns: she/her "Cas, man... you've gotta stop overthinking with that weird angelic brain of yours for just a second!" Dean said. "What do you feel for her?"

The angel hesitated, his dark brows furrowing deeply over his cobalt eyes. "I—I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, slightly exasperated. But he knew this was all new to the angel. "It's not about 'supposed to'. It's about what you do feel. Here—I want you to answer this next question without thinking, okay?"

He looked skeptical as he stared at Dean.

"Just say the first thing that pops up! Alright? Ready? What is the first thought that comes into your head when you see her?"

"That I love her," Cas said immediately. "Oh. OH." His blue eyes went wide as he looked at Dean, who only had a knowing smile on his face.

"See?" He patted Cas hard on the arm. "You do know."

Prompt: "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel."

[doctorbitchcrxft]

It's The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) | Castiel x Demon!Fem!Reader

Pairing: Castiel x Demon!Crowley's Daughter!Fem!Reader

Warnings: general demon snarkery, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 8503

A/N: Request fulfilled for this nonnie! I hope this makes your week a little better, sunny!! it sort of turned out to be a rewrite for Abandon All Hope 5x10 and and The Song Remains the Same 5x13. enjoy, kids!

Songs of the fic !

It’s The End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine) by R.E.M.

Roll the Bones by Rush

Too Sweet by Hozier

Dream Girl Evil by Florence + the Machine

Dirty Diana by Michael Jackson

Take My True Love by the Hand by the Lamplighters

Queue up your favorite music streaming service and listen while you read along, if you'd like!

General Writings Masterlist

“Are you sure you want this?” you asked, stepping closer to the man before you, heels crunching the gravel beneath them.

The man nodded. 

“Use your words, darlin’.”

“Yes,” he replied. 

You grabbed his neck to pull him down to kiss you, but he shoved you back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wh— what are you doing?”

“What, you didn’t think we were just gonna shake on it, did you?” you grinned. 

“Oh,” the man replied. He hesitantly leaned back down toward you, and you tilted your chin up slightly to kiss him. 

When you pulled away, you wiped his spit off your lips— he’d been a horrible kisser— and turned away. “See you in ten years.” You closed your eyes and reopened them once inside your father’s mansion. 

The Louboutins he’d gotten you clicked across the marble floors leading down the hall to his office, and you wanted to be anywhere other than reporting to him. However, since Hell was in shambles, here was one of your only options. You knew you’d inevitably be taking a trip downstairs soon enough to speak to your accomplices. 

“Ah, (Y/N/N), welcome back,” your father said. “Business seems to be as usual.”

“Always,” you sighed. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, though. Given I’m doing your job for you, I don’t exactly have time to chat.”

“If you want to keep your position, I suggest you keep the attitude to a minimum,” your father argued, effectively silencing you. 

“Whatever,” you replied. “What do I have to do?”

“I need you to get the Winchesters here,” he stated simply. 

“What?!” you exclaimed. “What could you possibly want with those idiots?”

Your father took the Colt out of his desk and placed it in front of him. “They need this. I intend to give it to them.”

“And how does that help us?” you asked. 

He looked at you strangely, as if it was obvious. “They need it to kill Lucifer. We need them to kill Lucifer so he doesn’t kill us.”

“I mean, sure, but why are we relying on them to get the job done?” you scoffed. 

“They’ve got an angel on their shoulder. I’m sure they can handle it,” he responded. 

***

Hell was completely in chaos. There was no corner you could go to without bloodshed happening in front of you. Therefore, you and your allies decided to meet in the most inconspicuous of places: a coffee shop. In fact, it was one another one of your allies ran; it was covered in enochian symbols to keep angels from getting too close or hearing something they weren’t supposed to. 

“So, what is he just on vacation?” you asked, taking a sip of your latte. 

“Apparently, he’s got something set up in Carthage, Missouri,” your friend, Fallon replied. “Whatever it is has the reapers so excited they came running to me with information. I swear, they haven’t been this uppity since they dropped the atom bomb.”

“Oh, great,” you sighed. 

“Lucifer’s following is getting shaky, too,” your other friend, James, chimed in. “We’ve started spreading the word that he’s gonna kill us when he’s done with earth.”

“Wait, they didn’t know that before?” you questioned. 

“They seem to be on a need-to-know basis,” he shrugged. 

“Typical,” you snorted. “Any word on the Winchesters?”

Fallon smirked. “Word on the street is their little angel friend has been trailing you.”

“I thought so. He’s not exactly subtle,” you laughed. 

“Be careful tonight,” she warned. “They’ve got a little blonde friend who’s planning on showing up.”

“Great,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the lumberjacks won’t be far behind.” A sigh tore through you. “I swear, if they fuck this up…” 

“I’m sure they will, (Y/N). They don’t exactly have a track record that suggests otherwise. Does Crowley have any sort of… insurance in place?” James questioned.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “It’s my father we’re talking about. I’m sure he does; probably involving a desert island and mai thais. And I’ve got some of my own.”

“What’s that smirk for?” he asked. 

“That angel fella. What’s his name?” 

“Castiel, I think,” Fallon answered. 

“Think he’s into demons?” you grinned broadly. 

“(Y/N), you’re fucking crazy,” she scoffed. 

You leaned back in your chair, feigning offense. “What? I can be very persuasive.”

“Yeah, I know, but… I mean, have you ever tried it out on an angel?” You shrugged. “Never had the opportunity.”

“That is a huge risk, though,” James pointed out. “You realize how sideways that could go?”

“Obviously. I’m bored, though. Business is slow, my dad’s a fucking idiot, and Lucifer’s gonna kill us all. Why not fuck an angel while I have the chance?” you replied. 

Fallon shook her head. “Good luck with that, lover. I’ll see you when I got something else you can use.” She headed to the back of the shop near the restrooms and disappeared under the cover of the shadows. 

James patted you on the shoulder to say goodbye. “Let me know when they’ve got the Colt. I’ll keep a tail on them when they do.”

“Thanks, love. See you around.” You walked out the front door of the café knowing the angel was near. You could almost feel the light emanating off him. 

You lead him to a clearing in the woods outside the small town you’d met your friends in. “I know you’re there, angel,” you almost spat out the words, but you tried to keep your voice sugary sweet. 

You heard a flutter of wings behind you. “Hello, (Y/N),” the angel’s deep voice rumbled. 

You turned to face the voice, and you couldn’t lie, he was incredibly attractive. “Y’know, if I wasn’t so disgusted by your existence, I’d find you pretty hot.”

“Is that supposed to be flattering?” Castiel asked, cutting his eyes at you and cocking his head to the side. 

You smirked. “You’re kinda funny for an angel.”

“I do not believe we have senses of humor,” he responded, seeming confused. 

Crossing your arms, you shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Why are you following me?”

“Crowley has something that belongs to the Winchesters,” Castiel replied. 

“And that concerns you, how?”

His expression remained deadpan. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Just making conversation,” you returned. “I’m assuming the cavemen in question are heading to my father’s house as we speak?”

Castiel nodded. 

“And I’m guessing they’re gonna try and kill him?” He nodded again. 

“I don’t think it’ll be in their best interest to do that,” you said evenly. 

“And why is that?” Castiel asked. 

“Because my father wants to help. And so do I,” you explained. 

Castiel furrowed his brows at you. “Why?” he grumbled. 

“Personally, I’m not interested in being turned into minced meat by the man in charge,” you snickered.

He seemed confused. 

“What, you didn’t know? Or is your face just… permanently ‘deer in headlights’?” you taunted, circling him. 

“Why would Lucifer kill his own kind?” the angel asked pointedly. He followed you with his gaze as you walked by turning his head.

“We’re not his own kind, genius. He’s a disgruntled frat boy with serious daddy issues, and we’re just the sorority girls he fucks over repeatedly trying to ignore his own problems,” you explained. 

“Lucifer knows he won’t win, correct?” 

You scoffed mockingly. “You wanna tell him? ‘Cause he firmly believes he shall inherit the earth.”

“I would rather not cross paths with Lucifer again. And I’d rather you change your tone when you speak to me,” he replied, his much taller frame intimidating you slightly. Still, you held your ground.

“Whaddya say we work together?” you asked, coming to a stop in front of him. “Y’know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours?”

“What could a demon possibly offer me?” he grumbled. 

“I can think of a few things,” you smirked. 

Castiel furrowed his brows once more, and you could see the smallest bit of lust in them. ‘Gotcha,’ you thought. 

“I know demons,” you explained. “I know how we work. I also know how to kill us. And Hellhounds adore me. I could be a valuable asset in the undoubtedly stupid plan you and the Winchesters are gonna go through with after tonight.”

He seemed hesitant, but you could tell you had him on the hook. 

“Whaddya say?”

***

Much to your surprise, Castiel had agreed to allow you to help them with their mission. However, the Winchesters clearly weren’t aware of that fact.

Your shoes clicked across the concrete as you headed toward the gates where the Winchesters and their friend Jo had just put down two of your father’s servants. 

“It’s a shame,” you said. “We just got the driveway pressure washed.” 

The two brothers were clearly surprised to see you, and the taller one squared his shoulders at you, holding out his knife. 

“Relax, would you?” you said evenly. “And put that thing away. Follow me.”

You turned on your heel and lead the duo into your father’s home. 

The heavy doors closed with a thunk behind the brothers, and you continued down the hall toward your father’s office. He’d apparently been expecting you, as he was sitting behind his desk with a cocktail in hand looking bored. You stood off to his side, leaning one arm on the back of his chair. 

“Wh— It’s Crowley, right?” Sam asked, trying to appear strong despite his clear disorientation. 

“So, the Hardy Boys finally found me. Took you long enough,” your father smirked. 

“I thought I told you to put that knife away,” you said, referencing the one in the taller man’s hand. 

Your father pulled the Colt out of his desk drawer and placed it down in front of him. “This is it, right? This is what it's all about.”

“What the hell is this?” Dean questioned gruffly. 

“Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?” Your father waved his hand, and the doors behind the Winchesters slammed shut. “There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you.” Sam scoffed. “You told us.”

“Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine,” he returned. 

“Why? Why tell us anything?” 

Your father picked up the gun and pointed it at Dean. “I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face.

“Uh-huh, okay,” Dean deadpanned, “and why exactly would you want the devil dead?”

“None of you are that quick on the draw, are you?” you snickered. 

Dean looked confused. 

“I’ve already had this conversation with your Heavenly lap dog. It’s about survival.” You stalked around the two boys, who were clearly a little intimidated by you. “Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're hideous, unwashed miscreants. If that's the way he feels about you, what do you think he thinks about us?”

“But he created you,” Sam noted. 

“Well, that’s a nice sentiment— parental love, and all that— but to him, we’re just servants; cannon fodder.” You came to a stop beside your father again. 

He spoke up to finish your explanation. “If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me out, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the devil?” He held out the Colt, handle first, to Sam, who hesitantly stepped forward to take it. 

“Great,” Sam said, looking down at the gun in his hand. 

“Great,” Crowley nodded. 

“You wouldn't happen to know where the devil is, by chance, would you?” he asked. 

“He’s got an appointment in Carthage, Missouri on Thursday,” you explained. “I’d be more than happy to escort you.”

Dean laughed. “No offense, sweetheart, but I don’t think we’ll be needing any help from you.”

“Oh, you don't?” you scoffed, eyebrows raised. “Your friend Cas seems to think I could be useful. In fact, he’s already agreed to let me come.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No fuckin’ way. Why the hell would he tell you that?”

“Trust me,” you replied, “you two troglodytes are chum in the water for whatever Lucifer’s got camping out over there. You’re gonna want another great white on your team.”

“Oh, and, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the devil and lose?” Dean questioned. 

“Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway. Two, after you leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three, how about you don't miss, okay! Morons!” your father roared, his gravelly voice thick. You tossed the bullets at Sam and Dean, giving them no time to recover before you disappeared. 

***

A flap of wings behind you told you that Castiel had actually shown up to your planned meeting. 

“I’m surprised to see you, darlin’,” you said, turning to face him. 

“You demons are so peculiar with your terms of endearment,” he replied, voice rumbling deep in his chest. “But yes, as much as I’m unhappy about it, I am here.”

“Your boys seemed a little off-put by you putting your faith in me,” you smirked. 

The angel became defensive. “I am not putting my faith in you. You are simply convenient.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special,” you snickered. 

“This banter is exhausting, (Y/N). What is your plan?” he questioned.

“All business,” you sighed mockingly. “Well, I’m not gonna put myself in the Winchesters’ line of fire. Or yours, for that matter. What I will do is jump in to keep the other demons at bay and help you find Lucifer.”

Castiel nodded, his face as stoic as always. “I will be with the Winchesters. We will meet you in Carthage, and you need to help us get into the town. I am sure there will be demons guarding it.”

“Naturally,” you replied. “You realize this is a huge risk for me, right?” 

“I am aware. It’s a risk for me, too,” Castiel cut you off. 

“But you’re not going against your own kind. I could lose some serious street cred,” you said sincerely. 

“I did,” he said simply. 

You turned back to him. “But the angels didn’t kill you when you did. You just got sent away. I’d be tortured. Forever, potentially.”

“No one is forcing you to help us, (Y/N),” Castiel replied dryly. However, he did seem to feel slight sympathy for you. That was overshadowed, though, by his disdainful stare.

“My father is,” you said.

“Crowley?” 

“The one and only,” you snickered. “If I had it my way, I would’ve fucked off to somewhere in the mountains and raised a couple goats when Hell went to… well, hell.”

“Why didn’t you?” Castiel asked pointedly. 

“What difference does it make why I didn’t?” you snapped. “My point in bringing that up is to tell you not to pretend we’re the same in this situation. I have a lot more riding on the line than you do. You may wanna start being a little less of a dick to me.”

“Are you, a demon, sincerely going to call me out on an attitude problem?” Castiel grunted. 

“Yes,” you replied. “If I’m telling you your attitude sucks, then it must really fucking suck. Just… don’t treat me like the scum of the earth, okay? I didn’t ask to be a demon.”

“Well, you must have done something to get yourself sent to Hell to become one,” the angel responded. 

“I didn’t, actually,” you stated. “My mother was a human. She got pregnant with me, and I became my father’s right hand man when she died.”

“You’re a natural-born demon?”

“Are you dense?” you scoffed. “That’s what I just told you.”

“I’ve never heard of one before,” he said, ignoring your flippance.

“I’m the first. Which, again, adds to the danger. I’m the demon-equivalent of a nephilim, and everybody wants me. That’s not me being cocky,” you explained, “that’s just me stating the facts. Everyone jockeying for power down in Hell wants me on their team. And I stayed loyal to my father. Which has made quite a few demons wanna put my head on a pike on their front lawns.”

“If you have all these powers, why haven’t you used them on me yet?” he questioned. 

“You’ve got a pretty face,” you said coolly. “I’d hate to make a mess of it.”

***

The next day, you waited near the outskirts of the town for the 1967 Impala and the band of misfits that would be accompanying it. 

“Hey there, (Y/N),” a voice said behind you. 

“Jesus, James!” you squeaked. You turned and shoved his shoulder. “You scared the fuck out of me. What are you doing here?”

He didn’t seem as happy to see you as he usually was. “I wish you wouldn’t’ve come,” he told you. 

Your expression hardened. “Why…?”

“This isn’t gonna end well. For anyone,” he replied, equally as cryptically.

“Stop talkin’ like Shakespeare. Spit it out,” you snarled, getting angry. 

“Meg’s here. With the Hellhounds. This isn’t gonna end well if you help them,” James explained. 

“What the fuck, did you help her, or something?” you asked. 

“No, but your dad’s got me directly in cahoots with her. I’m gonna have to duke it out with you since you’re here,” he replied. 

You nodded, understanding why he was behaving so strangely. “We’re not leaving here till one of us his dead, huh?”

James nodded. You knew you couldn’t hug him since you were likely being watched by some of Lucifer’s followers, but you gave him an empathetic look knowing he didn’t stand a chance against you. 

“Don’t go easy on me, love,�� you told him. 

“Ditto,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the ends of his lips. 

He rushed you, and you dodged him easily. The two of you sparred for a few minutes as your thoughts spiraled downward. James had been your friend for centuries, and he was one of your father’s most devoted followers. He was a low-level crossroads demon, and his powers were nothing against yours. With your telekinesis and ability to manipulate light and energy, he could’ve been on the ground within ten seconds. 

“This is definitely a hell of a way to go,” James grunted as you threw him back to the ground. 

You panted, “It’ll give you a cool story to tell in… whatever’s after this.”

Your friend seemed to get sad at that. “I’m not sure there is anything after this.”

“Well, I’ll see you when I see you, J,” you said, tears rimming your eyes. 

“Don’t cry for me. I’d rather you than Lucifer,” he assured you, letting you shove him to the ground one last time. 

Your lip trembled as you held your hand up at him, and he closed his eyes in preparation for the blow. The most merciful way you could think to kill him was with a blinding light emanating from your hand that immediately disintegrated his essence. Tears finally fell from your eyes when the light dissipated, and you could see your friend’s limp body lying on the ground. 

Collapsing to your knees, you held James's cold hand.

A voice came from behind you. “Who is he to you?”

‘Castiel,’ you realized. “My best friend,” you sniffled. “He was, uh, my guy on the inside.” You stood from the ground but refused to face him. 

“I’ve never known a demon to cry before,” Castiel said, his voice sounding genuinely curious and sincere. 

You sniffed again. “I told you. I’m half-human. I can feel differently than other demons. Where are the others?”

“We passed you when you were fighting with your friend,” the angel explained. “We should go talk to the reapers. They’ll know where to find Lucifer and give us some information as to what’s going on.”

“You do that,” you replied, facing him once you collected yourself. “I gotta go check on something.”

He looked at you curiously, but said nothing before you disappeared. 

“Come on, boys. My Father wants to see you,” you heard Meg saying as you approached. 

“I think we'll pass, thanks,” Sam replied. 

“Your call. You can make this easy, or you can make it really, really hard,” she cooed dangerously. Meg had always been a true pain in your ass. 

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. You heard a Hellhound whine as you rounded the corner onto the street where the Winchesters were facing off with Meg.

“Run!” someone screamed. 

You saw the hounds heading after the hunters, and one of them pulled Dean to the ground. He screamed in agony as it slashed at his leg. 

“Dean!” the blonde from your father’s mansion cried. 

“Jo, stay back!” he told her. 

Suddenly, a sharp whistle broke through the air. You’d learned at a young age to communicate with Hellhounds, and your whistles could almost hypnotize them. Being a crossroads demon certainly meant having a strong relationship with the creatures, too. 

Everyone’s heads turned to you, including those of the hounds. You walked forward calmly and called the dogs to your sides. 

“Run,” you ordered the hunters. 

They all listened gladly and sprinted away as Meg lunged at you. You couldn’t simultaneously control Meg’s hounds and fight her, and the hounds went back to their original mission. You threw Meg against the wall of a shop, and she retaliated by causing a telephone pole to nearly fall on you. There was never a window of opportunity wide enough to enable you to summon energy to smite her with the many telekinetic bl0ws she threw at you. You continued to grow angrier and angrier as time went on, and the two of you continued to fight, and Meg had apparently grown tired of your battle. She disappeared from view, and you panted laboriously when she’d gone. 

You turned to the shop the Hellhounds were lunging at the doors of. 

As much as you weren’t thrilled about helping people that were unkind to you— namely, Dean— you called the dogs off. The Hellhounds were always terrifyingly beautiful creatures, in your opinion. 

Their ears perked up at your whistles, and you called them to your side. 

“Hi, boys,” you said, stooping down to them. You pet one’s fur, and he nuzzled into your hand. You walked over to the splintered telephone pole Meg had brought down on you with the dogs hot on your heels and broke off a large piece of it. Throwing as hard as you could, you sent the dogs after their new chew toy. 

Dusting your hands off, you made your way over to the shop the hounds had been chomping at the bit to get in. When you threw the doors open with your powers, you were met with guns and angry voices. 

“Whoa, whoa!” you snickered, holding your hands up in surrender. “I come in peace.”

Dean and Sam reluctantly lowered their guns but didn’t seem pleased to see you. 

“I just saved you from those mutts. Maybe a little appreciation would do?” you smirked. 

“This is not the time for you to be a smart ass,” Dean grunted. He tossed a look over at the blonde woman on the floor bleeding profusely from her side. There was no doubt in your mind that she’d been attacked by a hound. 

“Can you… help her?” Sam asked. 

You shook your head. “No can do. I’m a demon. None of the powers we were gifted can exactly be used for truly benevolent reasons.”

“Great!” Dean threw his hands up sarcastically and ran them over his hair, pacing back and forth. “Alright, we gotta get them the hell outta town.” He was referencing the two women on the floor. The older one muttered encouraging words to whom you assumed was her daughter, and you looked on sadly. 

“Won't be easy,” Sam noted.

“Stretcher?”

“I’ll see what we got.” The younger brother started off, but the blonde stopped him. 

“Can we, uh, be realistic about this, please?” she said through labored breaths. “Ah—! I can't move my legs. I can't be moved. My guts are being held in by an ace bandage. We gotta—we gotta get our priorities straight here.” She tried to offer a sad smile. “Number one, I'm not going anywhere.”

“Joanna Beth, you stop talking like that,” her mother told her. 

The blonde turned her head toward the woman weakly. “Mom, I can’t fight. I can’t walk. I can’t move. This is it for me.”

“There is… something I can do,” you said. 

All of their heads turned to you, but Dean seemed to catch on to what you were implying faster than the rest of them did. 

“No. No way in hell, bitch,” he asserted. 

“Okay, first of all, watch how you speak to me.” You flashed your eyes red to get the point across, which Dean seemed to be slightly afraid of. “Second, do you have any other plan? You heard what she said. Your angel friend is locked up with Lucifer god knows where, and I can’t heal her. What I can do is put her out of her misery, and we can get out of here before those hounds get bored of their new chew toy.”

The blonde’s mother was horrified. “No! I— I won’t let you.”

“Mom, please,” the girl on the floor begged weakly. 

“No!” her mother argued, tears streaming down her face. 

“Look, these guys need to move on. I’ll only slow ‘em down, and you know they won’t leave here without me,” she continued. 

“No, no! That’s not—”

The blonde cut her mother off. “Mom, this might literally be your last chance to treat me like an adult. Might wanna take it?” She smiled sadly up at her. 

Her mom held her close, sobbing. 

“I’ll give you some time to say your goodbyes,” you said, turning away. You waited by the shop doors looking for unexpected visitors or for the Hellhounds to come back. You watched the sun set while Sam, Dean, and the girl’s mother all exchanged their final words. 

When you turned back, the blonde’s mother was on the floor with her. 

“All of you need to leave. Any one of you in this room with me will die if you don’t,” you urged, looking at the girl’s mother. 

“I will not leave you here alone,” the woman told her daughter. 

“Mom, no,” the girl cried. 

You remained stoic despite the pangs going through your chest. “Are you sure?” you asked her. 

She nodded at you and smiled at her daughter. “Just make it quick. For both of us.”

You nodded and turned to the Winchesters. “Get outta here.” 

Both men looked like they wanted to protest, but they decided against it. As soon as you were sure the two boys were out of danger, you raised your hand toward them. 

“Goodnight, guys,” you told them. 

The woman smiled at you and closed her eyes, leaning into her daughter and kissing her hair. “I will always love you, baby,” she told her.

Energy surged from the world around you into your extended hand producing a blinding white light that engulfed the room. When the light dissipated, both women were gone. “Good luck to you both,” you told them. The afterlife was no party; that was for certain. 

You walked out of the shop and down the street where the boys were waiting for you. “C’mon,” you urged them. “I’ll get you guys as close as I can, and then, I’ll go find Cas.”

Sam nodded, but Dean’s mind seemed elsewhere. Still, the two followed you down the street. 

You could feel the light radiating from Castiel and followed the feeling to a farmhouse at the edge of town. It was a peculiar feeling, though; most angels didn’t feel warm when you were near them. Their energy had always felt cold and unforgiving, even more so than demons. 

You pulled the boys down into a bush with you, and the three of you peeked over the tops of the leaves. Dozens of men stood in the field, attention on something you couldn’t see through the darkness. 

“Demons,” you whispered. “He’s here.”

You could feel Lucifer’s horrible presence. His presence felt like Hellfire scorching your skin the closer you got to him. 

“Don’t miss,” you told Dean, referencing the Colt he was brandishing. He nodded at you, and you made your way around the field and into the farmhouse where Castiel’s energy emanated from. 

Something else was here, too, though. You had to guess it was Meg; she’d always had a particularly close relationship with Lucifer. What sounded like flames crackled from upstairs, and you figured they had Castiel trapped in a ring of holy fire. 

You crept up the stairs, praying Meg couldn’t hear your footsteps over the roaring fire. 

“You seem pleased,” you heard Castiel say. 

“We're gonna win,” Meg gloated. “Can you feel it? You cloud-hopping pansies lost the whole damn universe. Lucifer's gonna take over Heaven. We're going to Heaven, Clarence.”

“Strange, because I heard a different theory from a demon named (Y/N),” Castiel said. 

Meg scoffed. “You don’t know (Y/N). Or Crowley.”

“They believe Lucifer is just using demons to achieve an end, and that, once he does, he’ll destroy you all,” Castiel continued. 

“You're wrong. Lucifer is the father of our race. Our creator. Your god may be a deadbeat. Mine? Mine walks the earth.”

You used your powers to break a pipe off the wall and slammed the back of Meg’s head with it. She fell forward into the fire, and you held her screaming, writhing form down for Castiel to walk over. 

Once he was free, you shoved Meg fully into the circle to trap her there. 

“Hello, (Y/N),” the angel told you. 

For the first time since you’d met him, you cracked a genuine smile. “Hello, Castiel.” Remembering your mission, your disposition became serious once more. “C’mon, we gotta get the boys. Something’s wrong.”

You and Castiel teleported to where the Winchesters were being held captive by Lucifer near the mass grave he’d created, and the angel held a finger to his lips to silence them. You let Castiel steer you where he needed your power to transport the boys. Once the Winchesters were delivered back to their friend Bobby’s house safely, you and Castiel regrouped in a clearing in the woods nearby. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe the Colt didn’t work,” you grumbled, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “Of course he’s one of the only five beings in the universe that thing doesn’t work on. Did you know?” You wheeled around to face Castiel. 

He shook his head. “I wish I had. It could’ve saved Ellen’s and Jo’s lives.”

You looked up at the stars; unobstructed by city lights or trees blocking your view as a heavy silence settled over you and the angel. “What’s Heaven like, Cas?” you asked. 

“What?” he questioned. 

“What’s it like?” You turned to face him, pulling your attention from the stars above. 

“It’s… nice, I think,” he said plainly. 

You snorted. “ ‘Nice’? That’s all I get?”

“Why do you want to know?” Castiel asked, furrowing his brow at you. 

“I wanna know if I sent that mom and her daughter to a good place,” you answered. 

The angel seemed to marinate on that information for a moment, and you could see empathy flash across his face. “It is different for each person. Everyone has their own personal definition of ‘Heaven,’ and that is what awaits them at the end of their lives.”

“Did you like it up there?” you asked, turning your attention back to the stars. 

“I didn’t like anything before I came to Earth,” Castiel replied. 

You tilted your head to the side and faced him again. “Really?”

He nodded. The starlight caught his eyes, and your gaze softened, righting your head. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Your eyes are really blue,” you told him. 

He looked confused. 

“They’re pretty,” you said. 

Those blue eyes searched your face. “I think the correct response to that is ‘thank you’,” he replied. 

You nodded, cracking a small smile and looking away from his intense gaze. “You’re welcome. Lucifer tell you anything worth noting?”

“No,” he answered, starting to walk around you. “I did find a particular distaste for car rides, though.”

You laughed, circling him just the same. “They’re the worst.”

Then, he abruptly stopped. “Why are you being so kind?”

You stopped, too, confused by his question. “What?”

“I mean, you’re a demon. It seemed you hated me when we first spoke,” Castiel explained. “It seemed your motivations were purely self-serving; like your father’s. And yet, you showed concern for Ellen and Jo. You saved Sam and Dean from the Hellhounds. You saved me. Why?”

You looked to the ground. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “The… human side of me always confuses the fuck outta me. I do my job, I play the part, but I… love humanity. Sure, they’re horrible to each other sometimes, but so are demons. Their full range of emotion is so complex. I just— they fascinate me. And sometimes, I wish I had a life as little as theirs.”

When you looked back at Castiel, he was staring down at you with such intensity it felt like he was staring straight into your soul. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you told him. 

“Why?” Castiel asked, his expression unmoving.

“Because I don’t know what it means.” 

He stepped closer to you, and your breath quickened. The angel slid his hand along your jaw and tilted your face up to his, kissing you with a fever. He grabbed desperately at you, and you, at him. When he broke away, you were dumbfounded. 

“I learned that from the pizza man,” he told you. 

You didn’t quite understand what that meant, but you laughed all the same. 

***

The next time you saw Castiel, he informed you there was an angel he needed help handling. 

“So, what’s your deal with this chick?” you asked him. 

“Heaven had her imprisoned, and I heard the angels talking about how she’s free,” Castiel replied. 

“Is she a major player?”

He gave you a strange look. 

“Is she a big deal,” you clarified. 

‘The only way she got out was if someone let her out. So, yes, she’s becoming one,” the angel nodded. 

“And why do you need me?” you asked. “Seems like a family dispute to me.”

“Because you’re stronger than I am. And you’ve proven you’re trustworthy.” Castiel grabbed your hand to bring you along to wherever he’d determined Anna was. 

Unfortunately for you, he was right. You were trustworthy. As much as you started hanging around him for "insurance," he was becoming a true ally you couldn't double-cross.

“Hello?” the woman called into the darkness. “Who’s there?”

You stepped out into the flickering light. “Hi there.”

She jumped back in surprise. “Who are you?!”

Castiel stepped out from behind you. “Hello, Anna.”

Anna turned to face him. “Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say the Winchesters don't trust me.”

“They do. I don't. I wouldn't let them come,” Castiel replied, beginning to circle her. 

You followed suit, walking in the opposite direction. 

“And why is that?” she questioned, continuing to face Castiel. 

“If you're out of prison, it's because they let you out. And they sent you here to do their dirty work,” he responded. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I've experienced…” the angel trailed off, searching for the words, “heaven's persuasion.”

“You mean when you gave me to them,” Anna clarified. 

Castiel sighed. “That was a mistake. Anna, whatever they sent you here to do—”

She cut him off. “They didn't send me. I escaped.”

“Darlin’,” you chimed in, “Heaven’s the supermax prison to end all supermaxes. Seriously, how’d you get out?” While she was distracted trying to answer your question and keep her focus between both you and Castiel, you used your powers to draw the knife she was hiding in her jacket and pull it around the back of her body to keep her from noticing it was missing. 

“Castiel can tell you,” Anna replied evenly, “I’m not one to underestimate.”

You hummed. “So, if you’re not on team ‘god’—” you used air-quotes mockingly— “then what do you want?”

“I want to help.”

Castiel scoffed. “You want to help?”

“Yes,” she nodded. 

“Then what are you doing with this knife?” You came to a stop in front of Anna, dangling it with a mocking pout on your face. 

She seemed startled that you’d noticed it. “I'm not allowed to defend myself?”

“Against whom?” Castiel pressed. “That blade doesn't work against angels. It's not like this one.” He drew his own long blade that came to a pointed tip. “Maybe you're not working for Heaven, but there's something you're not telling us.”

Anna took in a shuddering breath. “Sam Winchester has to die. I'm sorry but we have no choice. He's Lucifer's vessel.”

You laughed. “He’s not the only one, doll.”

“What, that guy Nick?” she scoffed. “He's burning away as we speak. No. Sam is the only vessel that matters. You know what that means? If Lucifer can't take Sam, his whole plan short-circuits. No fight with Michael, no Croatoan virus. The Horsemen go back to their day jobs.”

“Even if you could…” Castiel trailed off, “kill Sam, Satan would just bring him back to life.”

“Not after I scatter his cells across the universe,” Anna stated almost immediately. “They'll never find him. Not all of him.”

You waited for Castiel to answer. 

“We'll find another way,” was all he could manage to say. 

“How's that going?” the redhead pressed. “How's the Colt working out? Or the search for God? Is anything working? If you want to stop the devil, this is how.”

“The answer's still no, because Sam is my friend,” Castiel said plainly. 

She seemed taken aback. “You've changed.”

“Maybe too late, but I have.”

You tsked. “You’re breakin’ my heart, Cas.”

Your friend ignored you. “Anna, we've been through much together, but you come near Sam Winchester, and I'll kill you.” 

The woman’s eyes widened a moment before she decided it best for her to disappear. 

“Well, that’s fuckin’ great,” you commented, slightly exasperated. “I’ll get my friends on the lookout for the bitch. If she even sniffs close to Sam, I’m on it.”

“What is he to you?” Castiel asked. “Given your motivations, I’d think you’d agree with her.”

You turned to face him. “Well, things change. And if this kid is important to you, then he’s important to me.”

***

After thoroughly briefing your allies and your father, you ventured to the Winchesters’ motel room. You scrunched your nose up at the foul scent of molding carpet. “Ugh, you guys live like this?” you snarked, looking around in disgust. 

“And what the fuck are you doing here?” Dean questioned. 

“Dean,” Castiel warned, “I asked her to come.”

The older brother scoffed. “You did? Why?”

“I’ll need her help in case things go wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “I thought you just needed me for the summoning ritual.” 

“Well, I thought that was all I needed you for, too,” the angel sighed. “That was until I found out she’s in 1978.”

“Why would she be in 1978?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam replied, “I wasn't even born yet.”

“You won’t be if she kills your parents,” Castiel stated. “Anna can't get to you because of me. So she's going after them.”

“Take us back right now,” Dean ordered, bracing himself. 

You scoffed. “And deliver you right to Anna? We should go alone.”

“No, no, no, sister,” the older brother argued. “I don’t trust you with my parents or Cas alone.”

“Why not?” you fired back. “It’s not like I saved you. Twice.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No way. They’re our parents. We’re going. Little help here, Cas?”

“It's not that easy,” the angel said calmly. 

Sam jumped in, saying, “Why not?”

“Time travel was difficult even with the powers of Heaven at my disposal.”

“Which got cut off,” finished Sam. 

“Which is why we need her,” Castiel nodded to you. 

You sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Cas.”

“Oh, since when are you two on a nickname basis?” Dean gestured between the two of you. “And, what, you’re like a Delorean without enough plutonium?” 

“I don't understand that reference,” the angel said dryly. “But I'm telling you, taking this trip, with passengers, no less—” he shook his head, “it'll weaken me.”

Dean walked up to Castiel trying to get him to meet his eyes. “They're our mom and dad. If we can save them, and not just from Anna. I mean, if we can set things right, we have to try.”

Castiel shook his head, but then, started to busy himself packing up a duffel bag with holy oil, his angel blade, and other angelic knick-knacks. 

“Ready?” he asked when he was finished packing.

You nodded, grabbing both his and Sam’s wrists. 

“Whoa, whoa, what? Is she coming?” Dean protested. 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam snorted. “She helped us out a lot, Dean. And Cas needs the… juice, or whatever.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I’m not crazy about having a demon near our parents.”

“Well, get on board,” you said dryly. "Let’s get this over with.”

When you opened your eyes again, you turned to see Castiel collapsed next to you and bleeding from his nose. 

“Cas?” you asked worriedly, bending down beside him. 

Sam and Dean made their way over to you. The younger asked, “Did we make it?”

Dean pointed to the car driving down the street. “Unless they're bringing Pintos back into production, I, uh, I'd say, ‘yes’.” 

“Uh, guys? Little help, here?” you remarked, gesturing to the collapsed angel beside you. 

“I'm fine,” Castiel assured you. “I'm much better than I expected.”

You tried to help him up, but he ended up spitting blood and passing out. 

“Great,” you huffed. “C’mon, help me get ‘im in a motel somewhere.”

***

With Castiel comfortably tucked in the bed of the honeymoon suite, you bid the boys goodbye and good luck on their mission. 

“Wait, you’re not coming with us?” Dean asked pointedly. 

“I think you kids can handle yourselves,” you replied. “I need to make sure he doesn’t die.” You gestured to the unconscious man behind you. 

“Sure, sure,” Dean sarcastically said. “And I’m just supposed to trust that you’re not stabbing us in the back, here?”

“Look, if it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead. And without my help getting here, so would he.” You nodded your head toward Castiel. “So lay off me, would ya? And tell that angel bitch to suck my dick.”

Dean tried to resist laughing at your comment and covered it up with an uncomfortable cough. “Fine. If we get stuck here, though, know I’m killing you first.”

“Deal.”

Dean and Sam left with Castiel’s duffel bag, leaving you to take care of him. This was a first for you. You’d never nursed anyone back to health; let alone an angel. 

You sat next to him and gently smoothed your hand over his delightfully fluffy hair. Castiel stirred, the ends of his lips pulling into a smile, but he didn’t wake. You repeated the action, which seemed to soothe him, and eventually, his arms wound around your waist. He buried his face in the hinge of your hip, and you froze in shock. Unsure of what to do, you just continued to play with his hair while he slept. 

***

Castiel slept almost completely through the first day. Despite going stir crazy with no one and nothing to entertain you, the thought of leaving never crossed your mind. 

You sat across the room from him, simply staring at him and memorizing his features. He was frustratingly beautiful. Something about him had you captivated, and you weren’t sure you enjoyed the feeling. 

Every once in a while, Castiel would shift in his sleep. Each time he did, you got excited; hoping he’d wake up. When you realized he was still soundly asleep, you mentally scolded yourself for allowing yourself to become at all invested in the well-being of the angel. 

When he did wake up, he groaned. 

“It lives,” you snickered, your sock-covered feet kicked up on the desk and arms folded across your chest. 

“Good morning,” Castiel’s deep voice rumbled. 

“It’s three in the afternoon, dude.”

He perked his head up, his hair messy. “Oh. Really?”

You nodded, smirking. “Sit up. I gotta show you something.”

Castiel seemed confused. 

“Again with that deer-in-headlights stare,” you sighed sarcastically. “You said you didn’t get Dean’s Back to the Future reference. Now, I’m making you watch the movie.”

The two of you sat beside each other with your arms crossed over your chests and legs outstretched in front of you. Your backs were against the situationally-dissonant heart-shaped headboard, adding an extra layer of school-girlish, giddy discomfort. 

This feeling was entirely foreign to you. He was such a warm light that it almost felt as though the side of you closest to him was burning. The most startling part of it all, though, was you felt awkward. You never felt awkward or unsure. And yet, the angel beside you had you questioning every slight move you made. 

His eyes were firmly glued to the television, and you found his endless curiosity adorable. “He’s aware that she’s his mom, right?” Castiel asked you. 

You laughed, throwing your head back against the headboard. “Yeah, he is. This movie’s weird. Cult classic.”

“We shouldn’t be watching this, then,” he said plainly, looking for the remote.

“What, why?” You held the remote out of his grasp. 

“Because cults are bad, (Y/N),” he replied. 

You shook your head, still smiling widely. “Not a real one, Cas. It’s just an expression. I think it means something like it’s critically a bad movie, but a lot of people really like it.”

“This nomenclature is awfully confusing,” he said, sounding slightly disheartened. 

You giggled. You giggled. You surprised yourself with the laugh that escaped you. Never in your hundreds of years of existence had you giggled at anything; much less an angel. 

“You are fascinating, did you know that?” Castiel asked you, searching your face. 

You tilted your head to the side. “I— I am?” ‘Oh, great. Now, I’m fucking stuttering,’ you thought. 

He nodded, leaning his head toward yours slowly. You allowed his lips to meet yours, and you kissed him back with a fever. His hands pushed you down onto the bed, and yours wound themselves in his hair. He held himself up with one arm and rubbed circles on your stomach with the other. 

When he pulled back from you, you were completely flustered. 

A smile spread across his face. A wide, genuine smile; one that you mirrored. You pulled him back down to you with your hands on either side of his face and rolled yourself on top of him. 

***

The last few days with Castiel had been wonderful. You were incredibly grateful he’d asked for your help with getting back to 1978, and even more grateful that you met him. 

On the fifth day of being in 1978, Castiel’s disposition changed. 

“What is it?” you asked. 

“Something’s wrong,” he replied. “I feel… my brother’s here.”

“Uh, which one?” you questioned, popping up from the bed in worry. 

“Michael.”

“Fuck, dude, we gotta get outta here, then,” you said. You moved to grab his wrist. 

“Wait!” Cas urged. “I don’t— I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this, (Y/N).”

“Yes, you can. You have to. C’mon. I’ll help, okay?” you pleaded, holding both his hands. 

He nodded trepidatiously but allowed you to begin getting you both back to the future. 

***

You and Castiel appeared just behind Sam, and he caught sight of your reflection. 

“(Y/N)? Castiel?” he breathed out. 

You helped a stumbling Cas over to the bed in the room. 

“You son of a bitch. You made it,” Dean chuckled, wrapping Cas’s free arm around his neck. 

“I— I did? I'm very surprised,” Cas grumbled earnestly before collapsing on the bed in front of you. 

“Well, I could use that drink now,” Dean told his brother. He quickly fixed one for each of you, much to your surprise. You were a bit taken aback when he held one out to you. 

“Really?” you asked him, hesitantly taking it. “You didn’t… poison it or anything, right?”

He chuckled. “No.” He raised his own cup to his lips. “Well, this is it.”

Sam’s eyes flicked to yours, confused. “This is what?”

“Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, a literal demon, and Mr. Comatose over there. It's awesome,” the older brother remarked. 

“It’s not funny,” Sam said.

“I’m not laughing,” the other man replied. 

“They all say we'll say yes.”

“The angels?” you asked. 

Sam nodded solemnly. 

“It’s getting annoying,” Dean grumbled, taking another swig of his drink. 

“What if they’re right?” Sam worried aloud. 

You shook your head. “They’re not.”

Both men turned to you. 

You shrugged, a deadpan expression on your face. “If Mr. Comatose can genuinely crack a smile, then anything’s possible.”

Both brothers looked confused, but you just snickered to yourself and downed the rest of your drink. 

[kaleldobrev]

The First Butterfly

Pairing: Castiel/Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Cas bond over your current interest in butterflies

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hey, I just found your blog and it's so pretty! I really like your writing^^ Could I please request something for Castiel x female reader, where maybe they're not on hunts and they're just taking a break, and maybe he sees her reading something like a book about butterflies or something like this and he starts talking about them and it's just fluff? Thank you in advance ^^

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Lots of fluff, Dean bothering you (but lovingly like a brother cause he's bored)

Authors Note: I haven’t written Cas in such a long time, but I missed writing him | I hope this is as fluffy as you were hoping my sweet anon friend! | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It’s been a little over a week since you and the boys have been on a hunt, and you could tell that Dean was starting to get a little stir crazy despite your best efforts to keep him entertained with various ideas of things he could do besides bother you.

“Are you sure there’s nothing? Not even a vengeful spirit?” Dean asked you, taking a seat across from you in the War Room, propping his feet up on the table.

You looked up from your book - a book that you’d been trying to read for the past week. You gave Dean a look, a slightly annoyed look. “If there was a case Dean, don’t you think I would have told you guys?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He agreed. You nodded, and then went back to trying to read your book, keeping your finger on the edge of the page. “It’s just, it’s never been this quiet.” He said after a few moments of silence between the two of you. You looked up at him with that same annoyed expression you had given him earlier.

“I call that a good thing.” You said, looking down at your book again. You turned the page, finally able to read something new.

“I just really need to kill something.” Dean said banging a fist onto the table, the action making you jump in your chair. “Shit.”

“Sorry.” You closed your book with a firm slap, quickly getting up from your chair. “Where ya goin’?” He asked, watching as you started walking away from him.

“To my room!” You stated, loudly. “And with my door shut!” You emphasized.

For about the last hour you had finally found some peace in your room; actually being able to read more than one page - something you hadn’t been able to do due to the distractions Dean had caused you. As much as you loved the man, you wished he had taken some of your advice and did things to keep himself occupied during this weird break you and the boys have had. Despite loving hunting, having a break was something that was a rarity; and it was times like these in which you cherished it.

Lying in bed there was a soft knock on your bedroom door. You let out an annoyed groan, expecting it to be Dean on the other side. “Go away Dean!” You stated, only briefly looking away from your book.

“It’s…me.” A small amount of relief had entered your body at that moment, happy to know that it wasn’t Dean on the other side of the door but in fact Cas. “May I…May I come in?”

“Yeah you can come in.” You said, closing the book in front of you. As much as you had wanted and tried to read the book in front of you for the past week, Cas was someone that you hadn’t seen or spoken to in about two weeks - so for you, this took precedence.

“What’s up?” You asked as Cas walked into your room, closing the door behind him.

“Nothing. It’s been quiet.” He stated, standing awkwardly next to your door.

“Nothing on angel radio uh?” You asked, sitting up now.

He shook his head. “No.” He said simply.

You patted an empty spot on your bed. “Come sit.”

He smiled at your gesture, sitting down on the edge, very much away from the spot that you had touched. As he sat down he eyed the book that you had been reading and picked it up, the smile on his face grew a tad. “I remember when He made the first butterfly. It was truly a sight to behold.” He said opening the book.

For the past week you had been trying to read a book about butterflies, a subject that you had found yourself quite interested in as of late; not really knowing why. “I bet it was.” You said, watching Cas turning the pages of the book. “I haven’t read much, but, I’m really enjoying the book. What makes it interesting, at least to me, is that it tells you a bunch of different things about the various butterfly species around the world. Their habits, characteristics, what makes each of them special in their own unique way.”

“Do you have a favorite?” He asked, looking up from the book to look at you. He had stopped at a page talking about common species of butterflies found in Kansas - a page that you had bookmarked.

“The Red Admiral.” You smiled. “It’s the most common butterfly species to be found in Kansas. And one of the most unique things about them is their diet. Did you know that they love fermented fruit?”

Cas smiled. “That is quite interesting. I didn’t know that.” He said, lying. Of course he knew that fact, but that wasn’t something he was going to disclose to you. For the first time since he had known you, this genuinely seemed like a subject that you were truly interested in, and he wasn’t about to seem like a know-it-all, or seem dismissive when it came to this particular interest of yours.

“Do you have a favorite?” You asked. You knew that Cas had lied to you, but you didn’t care in that moment that he did because you were happy that he was humoring you in your interest.

“The Protocoeliades kristenseni. But, I have to say, I’m a little bias.” He chuckled to himself.

“How so?” It was a species that you hadn’t heard of before, despite your reading.

“They’re the oldest species of butterfly.” He stated, you nodded understanding. Sometimes you had forgotten how old Cas really was; until moments like these had taken place.

“I can see why you’re bias.” Your tone joking.

“I can probably say the same for you when it comes to the Red Admiral.” His tone now joking too.

You shrugged. “What can I say? Kansas as grown on me.”

“It’s honestly so hard to believe that there is over twenty thousand butterfly species in the world.” You said, you and Cas were now lying in your bed now; yourself underneath the covers and him on top. Cas chuckled at your comment. “What?”

“It’s humorous to me that you find that unbelievable but yet you hunt monsters, things that people do not believe in.” When he had said it out loud, it did in fact sound funny.

“When you put it that way…” you trailed off. “Makes it funnier coming from you. An angel of all things.”

“So, if you were around when the first butterfly was created, what did God originally call them?” You asked. “Did you and the rest of the angels get a vote? Or was it one of those things where he wasn’t taking any suggestions?” You turned on your side now, propping up your head with your hand and elbow.

“We, we didn’t get a vote no.” Cas said, smiling, trying to hold back a small laugh. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t up to us. But, I think Joshua did have some say. He was the gardener after all.”

“So it was always butterflies?” You asked.

“Essentially yes.” He said. “Buterfleoge, but it’s just Old English for butterfly today.”

“So, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it uh?” You said, Cas looked at you confused. “Meaning, why change the name if it makes sense.” You explained. “Butterfly doesn’t make sense though. I mean, I hate to say this but, was God…high when he named them? I mean, no butterfly looks like a stick of butter. And I know for a damn fact that butter wasn’t around yet either when he created them…or named them.”

“Jesus.” You were amazed. “I didn’t think you would actually do it.” You said.

“It’s not that difficult.” He said, as he started playing with his fingers.

“You named every single species of butterfly like it was nothing. That’s…that’s pretty impressive.” And it was. There was over twenty thousand species and Cas was able to name them all in less than 15 minutes, a feat that you didn’t think he would be able to pull off.

“It’s just as impressive to me as when you name every single Queen song like it’s nothing.” He said.

“You can thank Dean for that weird talent I have.” You stated. “Being in the car with that man every day for years will do that to you. Because of him, I know every single band from the 70s and 80s along with all of their members past and present, along with the names of all of their songs. Including, all the lyrics to said songs. Helps when he listens to the same albums over and over and sings along.”

“What got you interested in butterflies? I’ve never seen you read about them before?” Cas asked, he was now underneath the covers with you now, his trench coat hung neatly on the coat rack in your room in the corner.

“I don’t know. I just…for some reason I found myself really into them lately.” You said honestly. You had found butterflies interesting when you were younger, but it wasn’t a subject that you hadn’t delved deep into until recently. “I guess, I guess I really never had the time to look into anything that had interested me because of hunting.”

“Because it’s something that you were born into.” He stared, and you nodded.

“Yeah. While other kids were playing Barbie’s, talking about unicorns and butterflies and I was learning how to hustle pool and how to load a gun.” You were born into a family of hunters, kind of similar to the way Sam and Dean had been.

“I’m sorry.” His apology sincere.

“It’s not your fault. And, I know it seems like I’m complaining about my childhood but, my parents really were good people. Did the best they could.” For a while, you were mad at your parents, mad that they had raised you the way that they did - never letting you get the chance to be a normal kid. But in their own strange way, they raised you that way so you would always be able to protect yourself no matter what.

You had fallen asleep, your head leaning on Cas’ shoulder. The two of you had been talking for hours, and between the actual time and the amount of talking the two of you had done it had started to wear you out. Cas knew that you had wanted to talk to him more, talk to him about everything that you had learned so far from your book, but for the life of you, you couldn’t keep your eyes open. And as you talked about the Monarch Butterfly, your eyes had started to grow heavy. You had tried to fight it, and Cas saw that. As much as he had wanted to try and keep you up, he knew that you needed the sleep. The life of a hunter was tough, and not getting a lot of sleep was a part of the job. That is why he let you drift off into dream land so you could get that sleep that you needed.

He decided to stay there in bed with you. He wanted to enjoy the peacefulness of watching you sleep, something that he had always found fascinating to watch when it came to humans. He had only hoped that you were dreaming of butterflies. With a kiss on the top of your head, he shut his eyes too; not to sleep of course, but to just let them rest as he waited for you to wake up.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 If you'd like to be on a tag list, let me know!

[softhairedhotch]

If this is not something you’re comfortable with writing please ignore it.

The reader (trans man) coming out to Hotch, after a case that has caused their dysphoria to become worse. Whether it’s a victim who was trans or a bigoted unsub and it makes them visibly angry and upset to deal with.

Ideally it would have a happy ending but the rest can be as angsty or not as you would like.

thank you for the request, i really hope i did it justice <3 it didn't come out as angsty as i thought, it's pretty sweet tbf. it's not really what i wanted to do which this idea but i couldn't think of anything else and didn't wanna keep you waiting :')

aaron hotchner x trans male reader

after a case involving murdered trans kids and a transphobic cop, you come out as trans to aaron.

warnings/content: mentions of transphobia/hate crimes, feeling unloved and unworthy, deep conversations, coming out, love confessions and kissing

word count: 1.6k

also on ao3!

what about today?

“Agent.”

You paused, Aaron's soft voice surprising you. Taking a deep breath, you turned around and forced a smile. “Yes, Sir?”

Aaron's eyes swept over your features as he slightly tilted his head. He opened his mouth, struggled to make a sound, and closed it. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

He sighed. “Sit down. Please.” You nodded and stepped toward the chair in front of his desk but he shook his head. “On the couch.”

Realisation slowly dawned on you–this conversation wasn't going to be easy. Either you had to lie and tell him the case didn't affect you mentally, that it didn't remind you how ignorant and full of hatred people can be towards others like you, and pray he didn't see through the cracks in your armour, or you told him the truth. And the truth, no matter how hard, felt like the right choice in the end. 

But whatever happened, you knew it couldn't happen in his office. You trusted him with your life but you couldn't be sure how he'd react. Taking a deep breath, you quietly asked, "Can we go somewhere else?”

Aaron tilted his head. "Like where?" 

"I don't know," you shrugged, wringing your hands together. "A bar?" 

If Aaron was confused, he didn't say anything. Instead, he moved from behind his desk and reached out to gently grab your elbow, leading you out of the office. 

As you parked the car, Aaron eyed the area with interest. His eyes, shining in the low light of a street lamp nearby, flickered over the entry of the bar. He observed the gaggle of women huddled away in the smoking area, all sharing a cigarette, then the two drag queens giggling away at an inside joke, and finally the security guard who stood at the door with a pin that proudly exclaimed ‘love is love’. “A gay bar,” he mused. “It looks nice. Do you come here often?”

“When I need to clear my head and feel a little less alone, yes.”

He smiled. “You ready to go inside?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. A few people called out to you as you made your way to your usual seat, waving with grins that you matched, although it didn't quite reach your eyes. The bartender waggled his eyebrows at you when he spotted Aaron and you bit back a laugh. Aaron slid into the booth opposite yours and gave you a polite smile, patiently waiting for you to speak. 

“So you're probably wondering why I brought you here.”

Aaron shrugged. “Because you have something you want to say and you feel as if being in a public space surrounded by people you trust will make it easier?”

You opened your mouth to answer but no sound came out. “I… What happened to not profiling each other?”

“Not a profile,” he smiled, glancing away for only a moment. “Just an observation.”

“Well, you're right. Uh, I wanted to explain why this case affected me more than most.”

Aaron sighed and leaned forward, reaching out for you as if to take your hands in his. At the last second, however, he changed his mind and pulled away, standing up instead. You stared at him with your eyebrows knitted together as he moved to your side, sliding in beside you. When he was settled, his knee bouncing against yours, only then did he speak. “You never have to explain yourself. Not to me. I just wanna make sure you're okay.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and if your heart wasn't already beating a mile a minute, it was now. Tenfold, actually, and your hands shook in your lap as you gave Aaron a tentative smile. “I appreciate that, Hotch. But this… I need to.” His eyes found yours and you lost yourself for a moment. Smiling, he glanced away, giving you time to collect your thoughts with no pressure, and for that you were grateful. Taking a deep breath, you began. “I thought I'd be okay with the case because, well, I've seen stuff like this everywhere. I see it online or on the news more often than not; it's something we can never get away from. Violence against people who are, are different, that don't conform. We've seen it before, too, on cases. People in this community have been murdered for as long as time.” 

You paused, taking another shaky breath, and for a moment it felt like time slowed to a stop and you couldn't breathe. Aaron turned to give you a smile, small but genuine, and reached out for your trembling hand. “It's okay,” he whispered, interlocking your fingers. “I'm here.”

“Thank you,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand in return. Instead of pulling away immediately like you thought he would, he shuffled even closer so that your thighs and shoulders were pressed completely together. It gave you the courage you needed. “So when we were on that case with those… those little boys who only wanted peace and happiness, who wanted to be loved, who just wanted–needed–help and never got it from the people that should have been there for them… and when that cop said that they deserved it because they were different, because they were trans…” Aaron tensed beside you. “Something inside me broke. I felt like a kid again being told that I'd never be loved because of who I am.”

“Because of your sexuality?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. The hand in your lap felt like a weighted blanket, something that brought comfort, and it allowed you to breathe out your next words. “Because of my identity. Because I'm trans, too.”

Aaron didn't flinch. He didn't pull away, he didn't breathe, and he didn't make a sound. You immediately thought the worst–that he was disgusted in you but couldn't bring it in himself to react. Hesitantly, you slowly began pulling your hand from his, unwinding your fingers. But before you could pull your hand completely away, he tightened his grip and pulled your combined hands into his own lap. The rough pad of his thumb slid across your knuckles, his touch featherlight but filled with a tenderness that had your heart leaping into your throat.

His other hand gently cupped your cheek, large and warm and firm, and angled your head up so that your eyes connected with his. Instead of disgust, all you found was acceptance. “Listen to me,” he said, voice hushed as if you were in a library. Despite the excited bustle surrounding you, music so loud it was almost disorientating, all you could focus on was him. His tongue flitted out and swept across his bottom lip nervously before he continued. “This doesn't change how I see you. You're still you, okay? And you always will be.” He gave you a sad smile. “And you have every right to be upset. Every right. What that cop said… I wish you hadn't heard it, I really do, but more importantly I wish he hadn't said it, or even thought it. I wish many others didn't share the same views, too, because you… you don't deserve that.”

“No one does,” you replied.

“No one does,” he repeated. “But you… Oh, you. I'm sorry that someone thought it was their right to tell you that you could never be loved because it's not true. Not in the slightest.” His thumb gently swiped over your cheekbone. “You are so, so loved.”

You gave him a weak smile. “I know. But not in the way I want to be. I don't think I'll ever get that.”

It was as if you could see the reflection of Aaron's heart breaking in his eyes. He gave you a sad look, not one of pity but of understanding, and nodded. “You will.”

“Maybe one day.”

“What about today?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping low to your lips before finding your eyes again, and his head moved hardly an inch closer. If you weren't so close already, you wouldn't have noticed. But now you were keenly aware of his breath mixing with yours, the way your combined hands slotted together perfectly, how the comforting and familiar smell of him washed over you, and how his eyes shone with acceptance and love. 

“I…” Aaron started, trailing off in uncertainty. It's the only time you've ever seen him truly nervous. He licked his lips again and it took all your strength not to surge forward and press yours against his. “I love you.”

All that strength disappeared the moment those words left his trembling mouth and, before you knew it, you were kissing him. Mind completely silent, body losing all sensation except for where his body met yours, you felt like you were floating. His grip loosened on both your hand and face for hardly a moment before he held you twice as hard and kissed you back. It wasn't romantic by any means, the kiss feeling like a game of catch-up you had no idea how long had been in motion, lips and teeth and tongues clashing frantically, but it had your blood rushing in your ears and the world disappearing around you. 

When you pulled back for air, Aaron remained still. His lips were still slightly pursed, as if trapped in a memory he never wanted to escape, and his eyes were closed, a slight red tinge to his cheeks. He looked peaceful. He looked beautiful. 

As you admired him, the words slipped from your mouth with ease. “I love you too.”

[itsteambarnes]

Can these wounds be mended? part 1

Synopsis: Y/N didn't have the easiest childhood which lead her having a lot of traumas. One of them being yelled at. Steve doesn't know that and seems he doesn't even care.

TW: Yelling, angst, crying, wounds

A/N: Let me know if I missed anything, my first post on here. I am not still sure how tumblr work on pc since I have been using it mostly on my phone. This story is very personal to me since my father used to yell at me about everything and I'm still very sensitive about being yelled at. Please comment how you want me to continue this, I appreciate every tip you could give me. Also, English is not my first language. I'm from Finland.

She didn’t have the easiest childhood. Physical and emotional abuse which lead her to being scared of men. She had a hard time not being triggered when someone raised their voice. Unfortunately Steve didn’t know about that. 

You had been an Avenger since your family disowned you. You found out about your abilities and decided to show them to your mom and dad. You’re able to become invisible and now that you think about it after, that is what your parents wanted you to be. Still they were shocked and kicked you out of your home. They had been waiting for an excuse to do that and now they had it. They told it to you themselves.

You lived on the streets until Shield found you. You had no money so you had no other choice than to turn invisible and steal some food. It caught Shield’s attention because in the surveillance cameras there were those stolen goods just floating in the air.They had some trouble finding you but they succeeded through that unfortunate google maps car driving right past when you changed from being invisible to normal.

Long story short, you became an avenger. With a lot of training and a lot of tears you gained control of your powers. But it seemed as if it wasn't enough for Captain America.

You had just gotten back from a rough mission. You had tried your best but there was one slip up. Your powers had faltered and you had shown yourself to the enemy at a critical point which had gotten you hurt. In the quinjet you were tending to your wounds. Others had tried to help you but oh dear Captain America had stopped them. You didn’t think much of it since you were used to people not caring or helping you. You thought you deserved to be treated this way and Steve knew that.

You were bleeding from your right thigh and left arm. The attacker had had some kind of a sword so the cut was deeper on your thigh. As the quinjet landed the bleeding hadn’t stopped and you limped out of there.

“Y/N, in my office, NOW!” you heard Steve shouting. You just nodded and kept limping. Tears started to sting your eyes. Blinking them angrily away you thought that they were for nothing. You deserve this, you messed up.  Limping your way to the elevator you kept blaming yourself. You should have not said yes to the mission. You set all your teammates to danger without thinking.

Taking a deep breath you open the door to Steve’s office. Your eyes are towards the floor and slowly you raise them. Your eyes meet Steve's blue ones. He is sitting by his desk, which is at the opposite of the door. He is looking at you sternly. You gulp.

“Finally, it took you long enough.”

“Sorry, my leg…”

“Enough with the excuses”, He interrupts and stands up. 

“How stupid can you be? You set your teammates in danger. You were supposed to control your ability. Did you lie to us about you being ready? Don’t even answer that, you made that clear in the field. I don’t know why Shield even thought you would be suitable for our team. You just fuck up everything!” He shouted and rubbed his temples.

“I… I… Just tried my…”, You started to defend yourself when he interrupted you.

“You just tried what? To fuck everything up? Because that’s what you did. You are a disgrace to this team and if it were up to me you would be kicked out after this. Get out of my office, I can’t even stand your face!” He shouted and pointed at the door. You tried to control the tears but couldn’t help them falling while you turned to the door. You got out of there as fast as you could. You felt a panic attack coming and were determined to get out of there before Steve could see it.

Thankfully you got out of his office without him seeing it or he just decided to ignore your discomfort. Once you were out of the door you dashed to the elevator. You can not break down before you get to your room! You had been working on your problems with someone yelling at you but when it came out of nowhere it was hard to deal with. Especially when someone shouted as Steve had. You would've done anything he asked without asking, just to get him to stop shouting at you. 

Tears burned your cheeks and you were grateful you didn’t run into anyone on the way to your room. Your wounds were hurting but you thought you deserved them. No reason to go to the medbay, no reason to bother anyone any more than you already had. 

Once in the security of your own room, you could let the panic and sorrow let loose. You gasped for breath and tried to calm yourself. You sat down on the floor and tried to calm yourself, just like your therapist had teached you. It just wasn’t working. The thought of being hated by Steve was just too much. Because, you know, you had the biggest crush on your team leader. He had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen and the sense of righteousness. He always thought about the wellbeing of others and was so understanding. Well, maybe you were the exception. It was obvious he didn’t think about your wellbeing or intentions on that mission. 

You, through hiccups, drag yourself to the bathroom. Getting out of the clothes you were wearing was a mission in itself. You surprise yourself by getting into the shower, the water turning to pink from the blood from your wounds. But you deserve those to not heal properly, don’t you?

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Err on The Side of Awesome

(Not my gif)

Kol Mikaelson's Daughter Headcanons

Requested by: @katherinereilly19

Here lies my Masterlist

You were adopted by Kol and Davina Claire-Mikaelson at age six from a Catholic orphanage run by nuns who all thought you were some sort of demon child.

See, like your adopted father, you were a witch and had come into your power rather early. Davina had been sensing some odd power flares in the area and, when she and Kol had gone to investigate, there you were - a sweet, little bundle of mischief with more power than you knew what to do with.

To say that you had Kol wrapped around your little finger from the first second he saw you would be no exaggeration. Seriously. 

Kol had never thought himself fit to be a husband, let alone a parent. It still baffles him some days that Davina agreed to marry him - most days in fact - it just seemed too good to be true. They traveled the world for a while and then… Well, Davina, she…

She said she wanted kids.

She didn't say that she used to want kids or that she would have wanted them had she married someone else. Davina said she wanted to be a mom. With him. She said she wanted to have a kid with him and she wanted Kol to be that kid's dad.

At first, he almost thought it was a joke. Who in their right mind would trust him with a child? But no, Davina was serious. 

And it terrified him.

Kol is well aware of just how miserably his parents screwed up their job and he's pretty sure he couldn't do any worse but that doesn't mean he'd do well.

But the guy took just one look at you and he knew without a doubt that there was no alternative realm, no obscure future, and no minuscule probability in which he could cause you any harm.

For the first little while, you were convinced (thanks to the nuns) that you would have to be an absolute angel of a child in order to be wanted by your new parents. You helped clean things, refrain from using your magic, made your bed, brushed your teeth, and never asked for anything.

Three months in, you dropped a plate and broke down crying, begging Mr. and Mrs. Claire-Mikaelson (because you wouldn't dare call them mom and dad) not to send you back.

What began as your average Tuesday afternoon turned into a deeply formative experience when Kol sat you on his knee, looked you in the eyes, and said:

"Y/N, darling, I want you to listen to me very closely, alright? There is absolutely nothing on this earth you can do or say that will make your mother and I love you any less. There is no such thing as good enough - there is no bar you have to meet - only what you are. Now, a plate is infinitely replaceable, but you are our daughter and I will love you until the end of time. That makes you infinitely more valuable than a plate. Okay?"

"O-okay… dad?"

That was a day you never forgot as you grew older. 

Speaking of growing, no matter how old you get, Kol can and will pick you up by the ankle and hold you upside down. It never gets old.

Also, piggy-back rides.

You did go through a phase where you were convinced there was a monster in your closet.

"Dad! There's a monster in my closet and it wants to eat my toes!"

"Really? Well, I must applaud the audacity."

There were quite a few nights you spent cuddled up between them as Davina braided your hair and Kol told you a story until you fell asleep. 

Kol always refers to you and Davina as "his girls".

He's always willing to play with you, whether it be a game of tag or a complex drama plot with your dolls. (His personal favorite was when you decided to reenact the French Revolution in Barbie form.)

Daddy-Daughter Days are 100% a thing. The two of you are huge movie and arcade goers. Not to mention huge fantasy nerds. From Deltora Quest to Harry Potter to the freaking Wheel of Time - your fascination with the fantastical never fades as you grow. You never thought yourself too old to be read to at night, so Kol never stopped the tradition.

You're a little (a lot) spoiled. But not in a bad way. You're not ungrateful but let's just say you have quite a few pets.

Auntie Bex is always more than willing to babysit when your parents want some time to themselves. You remind her of Kol when he was a kid and she adores that.

Play-Dates with your cousin Hope mean quite a few headaches for your uncles Klaus and Elijah. Aunt Hayley thinks you're absolutely hilarious while Aunt Cami is convinced you're like 4 different varieties of insane. She might have a point there.

When you're old enough to be in school, you can always count on your parents to help you with your homework. You never would have made it through middle or high school without your dad, Kol is insanely good at math and chemistry. However, when it comes to anything to do with history or government, he passes the torch to Davina because even though he lived through it, he literally never paid enough attention to remember anything.

Parent-Teacher conferences are always interesting. 

"Y/N is so intelligent. Truly a joy to have in class."

"Is she now?"

Neither of them buys it for a second. You have a mischievous streak a mile long, the teacher just doesn't know that you're the one putting tacks on her chair. Kol is honestly proud and Davina may try to be the voice of reason but she can't help laughing at just how alike father and daughter turned out to be.

Now, if Hope is "miraculously well adjusted" then you're probably something like a thirty-year-old in an eight-year-old body. You're like the most chill child perhaps ever. However, just like your father, your maturity level varies with the situation.

For example, Klaus once decided it would be a good idea to whip out the "You're not even a real Mikaelson" card at a family reunion. It wasn't long before Davina had thrown Klaus into a wall and Kol and Marcel were at each other's throats. 

You honestly weren't even bothered. You knew your parents loved you and that was enough so you simply said:

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

And went back to eating your dinosaur chicken nuggets.

Marcel - apparently still a little touchy on that subject - was the last to sit down again. Little did he know just how proficient you had become with teleporting objects. Naturally, you were smirking when the whoopie cushion did its noble work.

Kol is terrified that he'll lose touch with you as you grow older.

This fear never comes to fruition.

The trust between you and your parents is something every other child ever would envy. They trust your judgment and, in turn, you trust the very few restrictions they put in place for you. It's crazy because they honestly never get mad. Like ever.

However, their disappointment is the worst thing you'll ever endure. 

 They told you not to go out one night because an old enemy of Klaus' was wandering around town. You went out anyway and you were attacked. Now, you were powerful enough to fight off your assailant and kill him, but you didn't come out of that fight unscathed. You had to limp home and tell your dad what had happened. 

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. I've done much worse in my life, for much dumber reasons. To be mad at you would make me a hypocrite. I just know you're better than this - Y/N, you've shown me that you're better than this. I'm not angry with you. I'm just extraordinarily disappointed."

It happens only once and never again.

Growing up with those two for parents ensured that you quickly mastered your magic and became one of the most powerful and skilled witches of all time. But don't think for a second that you would ever be used. They would never allow that to happen.

As you reach middle and high school, a rumor begins going around that your dad is a vampire. You just snort really loud and make no further comment. It leaves everyone wondering.

First boyfriend?

Heaven help the poor sod. 

"If you ever lay your hands on my daughter against her will, you will find that you no longer have hands. I will use the bones of them to fashion myself a new pen, with which I shall write your death certificate. Do I make myself clear?"

Once you're old enough, the basement becomes something of a witchy lab space.

Explosions are… frequent.

*Coughing* "Thank goodness your mother wasn't home for that one."

"Think again, Mikaelson."

"Oh shi-"

"Uh… Hi mom!"

You're probably the healthiest Mikaelson.

When the time comes for you to graduate, it's a hard dose of reality for Kol. He understands he has to let you live your life and he would never dream of taking that away as it was taken from him, but it's just hard.

You'll never stop being his little girl.

Special thanks to: @her-violent-delights

[emisanemu]

I wrote 400 words guys, in a fic I’ve been working on for three years, only like 2000 more to go.

[fanfictionalraven]

Piece by Piece Masterlist (Complete)

Summary: Nearly 11 years after a chance encounter, Dean and the reader are reunited. Dean is faced with a big surprise and an even bigger decision.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester (briefly), Bobby Singer, Castiel, various other SPN characters, original characters

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, canon typical violence and peril

Slightly Inspired by the Kelly Clarkson song of the same name. This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Piece by Piece Pt. 1

Piece by Piece Pt. 2

Piece by Piece Pt. 3

Piece by Piece Pt. 4

Piece by Piece Pt. 5

Piece by Piece Pt. 6

Piece by Piece Pt. 7

Piece by Piece Pt. 8

Piece by Piece Pt. 9

Piece by Piece Pt. 10

Piece by Piece Pt. 11

Piece by Piece Pt. 12

[hollybell51]

An angel loved you

Navigation, Supernatural

Castiel x Goddess of life!Reader (but it could be gn)

Supernatural (2005), pre-canon

Request by @slayingyourmomrn

Hey I don't know if your taking requests (I'm kinda new to requesting) but I was wondering if you could do head cannons of Castiel falling in love with reader who is the goddess of life? X

Word count: 1.4K

Content: very little to be warned about, maybe some vague body-horror-ish stuff (angel true forms) and mentioned/implied sexual content.

Notes: I love this idea so much! I haven't done head canons before, so I'm not actually sure how this went, and omg i had so many ideas! I ended up going with the one that worked most comprehensively as this format, in pre-canon, and I'm honestly not 100% happy with it but I'm also a perfectionist trying to be ok with things that aren't my magnum opus (you can tell lmao). Either way, I tried, I hope this is ok!

Life is old, almost as old as God and Amara. Definitely older than an angel, even the first angel ever created 

Earth was your favourite place to be, purely because there was so much life everywhere – single cells dividing exponentially, then clusters of cells all striving to grow, then the first real creatures, algae and lichen and fungi and plants, then fish and amphibians and reptiles and finally mammals and, of course, humankind

You loved watching humans grow and cultivate the land, almost as much as God himself

But with that came fighting, and killing, and destruction. You’d met Cas after such a slaughter, you didn’t remember which one, but there were angels and demons involved and you hated it. Hated how humans got caught in the crossfire of heaven’s battles as much as you hated the purely human violence

You’d never seen an angel who didn’t look totally content and exalted with any of heaven’s actions, but there he was: shoulders of his human vessel slumped, wings hanging limply all around him, many eyes rolling slowly over the world, brilliantly sharp rings spinning slowly around his core

You’d approached, a little hesitant, and had eventually voiced your own sadness at the destruction

The angel seemed surprised, then wary, but had agreed with you: it was senseless and costly, and the humans in the middle did nothing to warrant being caught there

After that first conversation (maybe too rich a term, since it had consisted mainly of you simply standing next to him, just coexisting) he’d come back to find you, wherever you were, and gradually you’d begun to seek him out wherever he was somewhere you could reach 

As a goddess, you didn’t feel things the way humans did. You were ancient, after all, and that kind of thing took a long, long time

It was at the close of world war two that anything had really happened between you and him

You were mourning the genocide of an innocent people, Castiel was chafing against heaven’s refusal to do anything about it – despite the obvious rise in demonic power and the evil of the whole thing 

He’d come to you, frustrated (though not yet rebellious) and had sought comfort in your presence, you in his 

“Do you think we can feel?” he’d asked, uncertainty tainting his ethereal glow. “Angels aren’t supposed to, but I see them suffering, I see them dying and I… I want to stop it from happening.” 

“I don’t know,” you’d said after a pause. Uncertainty and doubt were not things angels were supposed to experience. You didn’t even know that was possible until you’d met Castiel, but you supposed any prototype was going to be different. 

“Do you?” he’d asked, rings clicking and whirring

“Feel?” 

“Yes.”

You’d thought about that, then nodded. The ache at your centre when you looked over the mass graves and shredded, bloody uniforms was feeling, certainly. The warmth when you watched children playing in a garden was a feeling. Even the tingling heat inside you when Castiel was around, lower and deeper, was a feeling. 

“I’m feeling now,” you’d said. “Are you?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s… confusing. I don’t know how they deal with it every day.” 

You’d laughed at that. “I don’t think they do.” 

A couple of floating, glowing eyes had spun to focus on you, blinking slowly. Then something soft had brushed against your form and you’d looked down to see a wing sliding over you, gentle and almost… nervous?

You didn’t need to actually breathe, but you sighed anyway. It felt good to touch him, to have him touching you. You’d leaned into the wing and brushed what passed for a hand over it, and the two of you had stayed like that for a long time

Things had continued as per usual after that, but you touched more often. His form couldn’t hurt you, goddess that you were, and you liked not being confined to a human’s perception. He saw you as you were, as you really were, and you saw him too. Rings, wings, many heads and eyes and limbs, the whole shebang. 

Maybe you’d been spending too much time among humans, maybe you should have gone back to your roots on one of Chuck’s newer and younger worlds, or headed down to the simpler environment of the ocean or a forest

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere near the turn of the century, you realised that you loved Castiel, really loved him. It wasn’t like the love you felt for humans and plants and animals and life, either, it was hot and hard and roiled low inside you like hot syrup. And once the thought had occurred, you couldn't get it to go away

It was around this time that you melded your form into something substantial, still a goddess, but taking on a human appearance. It was heading into a harder time for gods and spirits, with new deities of money and technology and power and greed taking over. And climate change was wreaking havoc on your strength too, something Castiel seemed to realise – he was certainly spending more time with you

“I just feel so powerless all the time,” you sighed as you perched on one of his rings. The head of a deer stared back at you, then you blinked and it was a lion with snakes in its mane 

“You’re not powerless,” he told you. “I think other than God, you’re the most powerful being I’ve ever met.” 

“Thanks, Castiel. I just… I just wish that I was one of them, sometimes. Do you ever wish that?” 

Silence, then, “sometimes. I think it would be a lot simpler.” 

“Mhm. Just get born, grow, have babies, die. So simple.” 

He’d hummed, and the ring under you had cooled infinitesimally. You’d sat in silence for a while, then he’d asked, “do you really wish you were one of them?” 

“Huh?” 

“You said you sometimes wished you were one of them. Did you mean it?” 

You’d really had to think about that. It would be nicer, living a short life like that. Experiencing childhood. Falling in love with a person like you, marrying them, having a child. Growing a garden by hand and watering it every day. Cooking food because you needed it. Then dying when you got too old and life became too tiring. 

But then you’d only ever get to see what was in your lifetime, and on your limited plane of existence. You wouldn't get to watch a single cell turn into two, you wouldn’t remember the first fish crawling out of the sea, wouldn’t have met an angel, and certainly wouldn’t be sitting on him right now. 

“No,” you said, “not really.” You’d patted the ring under you, wobbling when a shining wing pushed at your back. “Besides,” you’d smiled, pushing the wing back. “I wouldn't get to do this.” 

“You’d be obliterated.” 

“Yeah. You’d have to find a vessel, and then I wouldn't be able to sit on you.” 

“I wouldn’t even know you existed if you were one of them,” he pointed out. 

“Maybe you’d be one too.” 

“Maybe. I wouldn’t like to be.” 

“Why?” 

“I wouldn’t get to see you.” 

That had flawed you for a second. 

“I love you too much to exist without knowing you.” 

You’d just smiled, reached out and taken a hand near you. “I love you too, Castiel.” 

After that, you were practically inseparable. You floated outside your form sometimes, with him, just to feel him on you, around you, in you. Sometimes, when he took a vessel, you’d share intimacy the way humans did

You discovered a love for sex with Castiel, in human form, where you could still see the rest of him beneath the surface and feel his grace all over you and inside your whole being 

You’d tell him you loved him, and he’d say it back to you, and sometimes you’d just get stuck in a cycle of “I love you”’s until one of you either flickered and became insubstantial, astronomical, ethereal, or was shut up by the other’s lips. Either way was fine with you

You were the goddess of life, and you were living, and you loved an angel. And an angel loved you. 

Taglist form here

[astr0exe]

Heyyy, I just like read all your fics, and was EXCITED to see that your requests are open. So I was wondering if you could comfort w/ John Price (Husband). Reader going home, from work or something, needing his husband and just some comfort after a bad day :3

And FLUFF make it FLUFFY

Please and Thank you!!

It might be sad but I've been single for a bit and need that relationship comfort again 😔

THIS TURNED INTO SOMETHING ELSE ?! BUT I ACC LOVE IT ICL <3 (this turned into some full in poem typa shit) also turned into gender neutral reader

Hey ml !! Ur so real for that i get it <3 cause same, messages are always open if anyone ever needs to talk 🫶🏻🫶🏻 ALSO ignore the fact I had like died im back ish been busy n really burnt out n watching the aus gp cause i have a problem

Husband!Price who just sighs softly, wrapping his arms around you as you slouch into his body as soon as you walk through the door. Not even taking off your shoes or coat, just clutching Price’s shirt tightly.

His eyes narrow at the waves of pure exhaustion which shows in your dull eyes. His strong arms are tight around you, keeping you grounded and protected. A safe space, where you can finally let your shoulders drop and the tears flow. A home where you can smile and laugh, a place where you know, that no matter what, you will be supported and loved. Because John has worked so hard on making sure you know you are loved, through everything he will be there for you. Those horrible days at work, the overwhelming stress you often feel, for every little positive and negative he will be there for you. Because you are his moon and he is your star.

“You’re safe my love, here in my arms you will always be protected.” John murmurs softly in your ear, his deep voice reverberating through your body and soul, the slow soft sigh that leaves your lips as your fingers untangle from his shirt, a quiet apology leaves you lips from the new found wrinkles on his perfect shirt. Everything about your husband is perfect in your eyes, his light salt and pepper hair which he blames on you lovingly, his smile which still makes your heart race and head spin even after being married for 5 years. In your eyes he can do no wrong, because he is your star. And you are his moon.

Your slight smile relaxes John, his eyes full of affection and love. He is enamoured and he is proud to admit that you, his husband, is the light of his life, his moon. He knows that through everything, you will always be together. The adoration you both feel for each other is immense, endless. Just like the moon and the stars.

The soft bed envelopes you both, the familiar comfort mixes with Johns hold perfectly, his body against yours as you both just lay down, unable to bring the words to fill the room. The love too pure for anyone to properly understand, no one will ever fully understand it, it’s far too complex for any love story. But it’s yours. The moon and the stars are always seen together no matter what. Forever and always.

[supernaturalfreewill]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kaleldobrev]

Castiel Masterlist

A rebloggable Castiel Masterlist for your viewing and reading pleasure. A mix between GN. Reader & F. Reader (Individual stories specified)

Authors Note: Will update this as I post more stories

Angels Are Watching Over You (1.4k) | Waking up from a nightmare and Castiel comforts you

Change of Heart, Change of Mind (Apocalypse World) (4.2k) | Y/N Winchester finds out that Apocalypse World Cas is their soulmate

The First Butterfly (1.9k) | You and Cas bond over your current interest in butterflies

Trying to use pick-up lines on Cas

Cas trying to impress you

Cas telling you he loves you for the first time

Catching Cas watching porn

Cas always watching over you