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gilverrwrites · 7 months

Note

Could you make a Sam Winchester having erotic dreams with his female best friend?

Author Note: Hello! I hope you don't mind, but I combined this request with your other request for Dean in the same scenario (and added Cas cause 😍) I'm also working on a separate fic for Dean having erotic dreams about a rival per that request. I really hope you enjoy! ❤️

Rating: M/18+

Words: 1940 (Dean 685, Sam 685, Cas 570)

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

It's a total coincidence that Dean and Sam are both 685 each!

Please remember: To focus on the things that make you happy.

Dean Winchester

“Oooh yes Dean, yes, that’s it.” Your voice sounds hoarse and breathy. Makes sense cause you’ve been moaning like that, praising like that all night. “You like that baby?” Dean asks from beneath you, completely entranced by the bounce of your breasts and the sway of your hips as you ride him. “You like fuckin’ yourself on my dick baby?” “Yes, Dean, yes! You feel so fucking good. Make me feel so good.” You chant, and when your head rolls back in ecstasy, Dean follows. His fingers grip at your skin, forcing you against him as he ruts into you, spilling himself inside.

That was last night’s dream. The most recent in a string of dreams that left him hot and bothered every morning. The worst part was facing you. Trying to look you in the eye, discuss a case, or make a game plan without thinking about you naked and moaning on his dick.

He’d been avoiding you as much as possible, but sometimes just your name was enough to make him pop a boner, much like the one he had now. He positioned his beer bottle over his offending member and forced himself to stare out the window, averting his gaze from the sight of you, bent over the nearest pool table.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” The sound of your voice made him jump. Man, how out of it was he?

“What?” He looked up at you, hands on hips, staring down at him. The sight made his lips dry. “Oh nothin’, I think I’ve had too many. Maybe I should call it a night.”

“You’ve had like two drinks. That barely even touches the sides.” You state, and you’re not wrong. You know him too well. He can’t help clenching his jaw as you sit down across from him. When he sees how your new angle offers him a perfect shot of your cleavage, he thinks he might start grinding away his teeth. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?” He leans in closer. Not to be closer, but he hopes leaning forward might help hide the bulge in his jeans.

“You’ve been acting funny, and avoiding me all wee-“

“N-“

“Don’t interrupt. Yes, you have.” You punctuate your statement by placing your drink on the table. You don’t slam, but it's hard and firm enough to communicate your point. “Don’t you try to deny it Dean Winchester! I know you too well. You’ve been avoiding me, and when you can’t get away you’re all squirrely and quiet. Now tell me what’s going on.”

He drains his beer as he thinks it over. Partly to try and return some moisture to his mouth but primarily to buy himself some time while he thinks things over. If he’s honest, he might get something out of it. A one-night stand, a fuck buddy, maybe more? Or he might lose you, which he couldn’t stand.

“I…”

“Come on Dean, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Fuck it. You’re right. He gestures to the bartender for another round, takes a deep breath, and spills. And a funny thing happens: he starts to feel more relaxed as he lets it out. If you’re not into it, that’s fine. So long as it doesn’t scare you off.

When he’s done, he watches you as you process his confession. Man, he loves the way your face moves when you’re thinking.

“So…” You purse your lips and take a quick sip of your drink as you prepare your response. “What’s the problem? Do you not want to sleep with me?”

“No, I do. Obviously, you’re…” hot, incredible, the only woman I want. Unable to voice any of the thoughts in his head at that moment, he gestures to you, head to toe and back again. “I just don’t want it to cause problems between us. Our friendship”

“Then we won’t let it.” You state matter-of-factly. “Now, are you gonna take me back to the bunker so we can fuck each other dumb or not?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam Winchester

His fingers are knuckle deep inside of you as you lay back, spread out across his bed. “Fuckkk… Sam!” You look up at him, eyes hazy, hair a mess, and he can feel his dick throb in response. “Sam, I’m so full.” “Poor baby.” He coos in response. “So full already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” He watches the way your expression melts at his words with pride, when he sees your lips start to form your reply, he places a direct smack to your clit. The whine you release is music to his ears. The way you wither and moan as he begins to play with your clit, fuck, you’re so hot. “Are you ready for more?” He asks. He’s pleased when you begin vigorously nodding. “Yes, Sam! Yes! Yes, please!”

Years of impersonating officials and hustling at almost every bar he stopped at had earned Sam a more than convincing poker face. But you always saw right through it.

For that reason, Sam had been bending over backwards to avoid you. He wasn’t totally sure what he was hiding, the fact that he’d dreamed about you, or the fact that he’d furiously masturbated to the memory of it upon waking up. Either way, he wasn’t ready to face you.

He’d hung back in the morning, grabbing his breakfast later than usual. Gone to the local library all day to research, citing a change of scenery when Dean questioned him, and had gone grocery shopping as an excuse to stay out later.

After unpacking the shopping, he’d hopped in the shower, making up for skipping his usual morning routine.

What he hadn’t accounted for was finding you, dressed in nothing but your panties and one of his t-shirts, in the centre of his bed. The very bed he’d vividly fantasised about pleasing you in.

It wasn’t an unusual sight. You were his best friend after all. You often hung out in each other’s rooms, and you frequently borrowed his shirts. He just really could have done without all this today.

“Hey Sam.” You greeted him with a smile, looking up from your laptop. “I missed you today.”

“Hey.” He responds awkwardly. Both hands clutching at his towel. He clears his throat before continuing. “Yeah, I was busy I guess. You too.”

“No worries.” You assure him before returning your gaze to your screen. “I could use your help with something if that’s alright?”

“Sure.” He approaches the bed. Certain close proximity will escalate his predicament he resolves to remain standing. However, looking down at you, with your head so close to his crotch, is equally stirring something within him. Reluctantly, he sits beside you. He glances at your computer briefly but quickly becomes preoccupied with adjusting and readjusting his towel, determined to cover the growing erection beneath.

“So, I’ve been looking into the apple of Sodom for Claire but…” he swears he meant to listen, but he’d never noticed how good you smell before, or how your skin glows even under the dingy light of his room. “Sam? Sam are you even listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” He finally tunes back in. “Apple of Sodom, Claire… hand of God?”

He looks into your eyes to judge his improv, but you’re staring, wide-eyed, right at the thing he’s been trying to hide.

“Is that- are you…” You look at his face, and he can feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. “For- because of me?”

“I’m sorry!” He stands, pausing to compose his words before continuing his apology. “I just, I had this dream last night about you, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because you’re my friend. My best friend.”

“Right.” You always saw right through him, but fortunately, that was a two-way skill, and right now, he could hear, he could feel the disappointment you were radiating.

“Unless…” he cocks a brow at you, and your body immediately perks up. You look up at him, eyes hazy, identical to his dream. “Do you want this too?”

Castiel

You’re a vision on your knees before him, eyes watering, cheeks puffed out, hair tangled between his fingers. He stares intently, relishing in all the subtle movements of your faces as he lazily pumps his penis between your lips. His grip grows tighter every time he feels the back of your throat against his tip. Your muffled pants and moans are music to his ears. The way your lips glisten beneath the sheen of your own saliva is erotic, and he worries the sight of you alone will be enough to make him finish before he’s really begun.

It’s that vision he’s thinking of now as he watches you on your hands and knees, scrubbing a chalk pentagram off the floor.

He’s brought out of his chain of thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He squints at your face; he is confident it looks fine, more than fine, beautiful in fact, but he examines it in more depth, nonetheless. “There is nothing on your face. In fact, your face is quite adequate.”

“Quite adequate, I’ll take that as high praise.” You laugh. He’s not certain what’s so funny, but the sound is exquisite, and only further fuels the unfamiliar fiery feeling he’s experiencing. “But seriously, why are you staring at me?”

Your line of questioning makes sense to him now. He briefly considers lying to you, but on the spot he cannot think of anything convincing. “I slept last night.”

“I didn’t know Angels did that.” It’s not a question, but he has learned many human cues during his time on Earth. You’re digging for more information.

“We can, but we do not need to, so typically we don’t. I thought I might trial it to see if it would help in replenishing my grace.” He answers.

“Did it help?” Your inquisitiveness is ceaseless. It is something he has always liked about you.

“No.” He replies, he enjoys the brief frown of disappointment you give in response. “I did however, dream of you.”

“Ahh, and what did me and my quite adequate face do in your dream?” You’re smiling again as you scrub at a particularly stubborn stain. He notices the unintentionally alluring way you chew at your bottom lip and is immediately reminded of the way you had looked in his dream, as you waited in anticipation for him to expose his genitals.

He allows himself to wonder how you will react to his next statement; he hopes you’ll be as excited and pliable as you had been in his fantasy. “You were nude, on your knees, performing fellatio on my, well, my vessels penis.”

“Oh!” You respond in a tone that he believes to be humorous and a little surprised. Until you look down at your knees, considering your precarious position. “Oooooh.”

You don’t say anything else, nor do you look back up at him. He begins to worry that he may have said something inappropriate, or that you thought he had disliked the experience.

“It was an enjoyable dream, if that is your concern.” He attempts to offer comfort.

“Well, I suppose that’s good news.” You nod to yourself; your tone gives nothing away. “I wonder if my real-life skills are as enjoyable as your fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t know, we have never…” His line of speech, his thoughts are interrupted by the enticing sight of you crawling towards him. “Oh.”

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #supernatural x reader #spn imagine #gilverrwrites

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amor-ad-nauseam · 2 months

Text

Somethin’ Stupid (pt. 2)

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x reader

Summary :You two are pathetic for each other, so much so that Dean can’t help but take notice. Maybe, just maybe his “playing wingman” will work out alright…

Word count : 3.5k

Tags: Reader and Sam have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns, carheartt!sam, heavy make out, kissing, fade to black, almost smut.

Notes; While this does read as a fade to black i may or may not have gotten a little carried away with myself and wrote part of the smut scene… it’s not included here but if y’all want that lmk!! I am so sorry about how late this is coming out! i’ve been very busy with back to school preparations. Notes and reposts are greatly appreciated

part 1 part 3

“Rise n’ shine, Sammy!” Dean announced, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

Sam flinches awake and like a row of dominos, the guitar that was in his lap is sent tumbling to the floor - creating a harsh cacophony of strings and wood.

The sound causes you to jolt from your slumber. You shoot up in bed in a flurry of confusion. “I’m up! I’m up! Where’s the Rugaru!?” You shout, whipping your head around the room.

“Woah, Good Morning to you too,” Dean chuckles, punctuating the sentence with an obnoxious bite of beef jerky. Sam makes a face. “Want some?” He points the jerky at Sam.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs his hands down his face. "I’m good, thanks.”

You visibly relax as the real world comes into focus. “Morning, Boys.” You say as the adrenaline wears off. Sam was still across from you, now flashing an apologetic smile and Dean was well- Dean, but in a cowboy hat. That wasn’t too unusual for him. Dean nodded a hello.

“Eh, more for me,” Dean shrugs with another bite. “Anywho,” He bends down and retrieves the guitar from the floor, now with a newly popped high E string. He hoped the motel wouldn’t charge him extra for that. “When’d you become Springsteen?” He smirks.

Sam was in no mood.

Then, his eyes lit up.

“Hey, Dean, what’s that, uh, mark on your neck?” Sam said, a grin only capable of being mustered by the most annoying of little brothers appearing on his lips.

“What mar- “Dean slid his hand down the length of his neck, stopping about halfway in sudden realization. “Oh- “He clears his throat. Mumbling something about getting banged up pretty badly, he dismisses himself to the med kit in Sam’s bag.

“Oh, and that explains why you’re just now getting back at, uh,” Sam glances to the alarm clock. “7am? from a simple salt-n-burn?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean scoffs defensively. “Cause you see, Sammy, I was actually doing my job.”

The early morning sun filtered in through the blinds and for the first time you realized that the wood paneling on the divider and both doors were made to look like a saloon door. Damn. They went all out with this whole cowboy theme. On the bright side, the sun gave everything a warm almost fiery glow. Despite the rather cozy atmosphere of the room, Sam and Dean were still going.

Only two things in life are certain: taxes and the Winchester’s arguments.

“The job that requires you to receive hickeys from girls in bars?” Sam laughed. He was now stood by the foot of your bed, stretching the tension from his shoulders. Man, even through a t-shirt his back muscles were attractive- carved like a Greek statue.

“Okay, when you say it like that it makes me sound like a hooker.”

“Maybe you are, Mr. hard worker.”

“Don’t objectify me.” Dean rolls his eyes, feigning offense . Dean was leaned over the dresser, looking in the mirror as he tried to cover a small purple mark on his neck with a square gauze patch.

He definitely wasn’t winning this one.

As if suddenly remembering something, his head perked up and he set his sights on you.

“How’s the leg?” He asked, looking at you in the mirror. He did genuinely care about your wellbeing, but it didn’t hurt that you were also a good out.

“Hm?” You were a little distracted; you’d almost forgotten about your leg entirely.

“Oh right. It’s fine really,” you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

When you look down you find the bandage that was once around your thigh, half undone, twisted about and just an overall mess.

“Right, fine.” Dean chuckles.

“Woah, you okay?” Sam questions.

Before you know it, Sam’s closing the distance between the two of you and the roll of gauze is sailing through the air from Dean’s palm to Sam’s.

“Damn, I thought you were better at the whole first-aid thing, Sammy.” Dean remarks, happy to flip the situation back on his brother.

“I am,” Sam takes a seat next to you. He’s warm. And close. Too close. “But someone.” Damn he smells good too. Like a brand-new book. “Wouldn’t let me.” He said with a teasing expression.

“Hey, I didn’t do too bad.” Your cheeks flush.

“Riiight.” He gently tugs at an end of the bandage, and it unravels like a loose thread in a pair of jeans. “Not too bad at all.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” You reply, your face contorting to an attempt at annoyance.

“Hey, cheer up.” Sam smiled.

You couldn’t help but smile in return.

He gently slid his hand to the underside of your knee and placed your leg over his lap just as he did the night prior.

While you were busy tossing the wrinkled bandage into a small barrel-shaped trashcan near the sofa-chair, Sam took the opportunity to let his gaze linger. He drank in every detail of your appearance, hoping to seer it to memory.

For some reason, 3 things in particular stuck out to him: You never bothered to put your hair up last night, the way squinted as the sun reflected directly into your eyes, and the fact that you were still in his Carhartt. That last one especially made his heart beat a little harder.

Your lovely chaotic hair and the sun shining on your face inspired countless fantasies. Some as simple as kissing the tiredness from your expression, others, he felt bad for even thinking.

The minute you turn around his eyes are once again glued to your leg and you’re none the wiser.

“How’m I lookin, doc?”

Dean with his shirt tucked beneath his chin was rubbing ointment on what he wasn’t quite sure if it was another hickey on his abdomen or an actual bruise. Upon hearing your question he perks up, ready to make a dumb Looney Toons reference when Sam of all people beats him to the punch.

“Ah, just peachy, Bugs.” He replied in a nasally imitation of Daffy Duck.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles with some small shock. He watches the two of you from the mirror's reflection. He knew Sam had a thing for you, but this, this was something else.

The way the two of you giggled and just almost leaned into each other with every joke- pulling away in shy stupidity each time you got too close. The lingering eye contact, how Sam’s hand looked almost reluctant to leave you, the way one of you would stare when the other wasn’t looking. The whole thing left his stomach feeling like a pot of warm honey.

Damn. You’ve both got it bad.

An idea.

“Hey guys,” He chimed in.

“Hm?” You and Sam said in unison.

“Oh, sorry no you go- “you said.

“No, it’s okay you- “

“Well, you did fix me up it’s only fair- “just then you realized that your leg was still in his lap. You quickly pull away and smile apologetically. Sam does the same.

Dean just about face palms. You two are hopeless.

“Guys.” Dean clears his throat, capturing both of your attentions once more.

“I'm gonna go out and uh, do something.” Dean said with heavy emphasis on “do something.”

“Oh, okay..?” you said with confusion

“Oh, uh, need help with that?” Sam added, eaqually as confused.

“No! no, sorry…heh… I just mean that you both should stay here while I go make a move.”

“You… feelin’ alright, Dean?” You question.

“He’s still hungover I think.” Sam leans in and mutters.

“Y’know,” Dean turns his attention straight to Sam. “Making a move is always the right thing.”

“…So, you do want my help?”

“No, damnit,” Dean sighs in defeat. “M’goin’ on a coffee run.”

“Oh… okay…” Sam replied. “In that case, make two of ‘em decaf.”

“Aw you remembered?” You say with an expression reminiscent of a teen girl with a crush.

“Yeah, I know how it makes you jittery.” Sam replied, sounding embarrassed.

Dean watches as the two of you sit there smiling like idiots.

Yeah.

Extra hopeless.

- -

The latter half of the day is spent with Dean acting strangely and you and Sam struggling to figure out why.

A couple of theories arose.

“Maybe he is hungover.” You quietly conceded after Dean stretched his legs across the diner’s booth seat when Sam tried to sit down- forcing him next to you.

“Nah, he’s mean when hungover.” Sam replied.

- -

“Maybe we did something?” You suggested when Dean pulled the same diner stunt later at the library.

“Like what?” Sam replied as he studied Deans relaxed demeanor.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s 'cause we bailed last night?”

“C’mon we didn’t “bail”, you got stabbed and we all know if one of us didn’t stay with you, you’d come crawling back to finish the fight.”

“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “Well, I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Me too. Just can’t figure out what would make him not tell us details on a case, it’s not like him.”

- -

You also happened to notice that Sam grew increasingly grumpy as the day dragged on.

Whether that was due to Dean, or his uncomfortable sleeping situation last night was lost on you.

- -

“Maybe he got roofied?” Sam mumbled when it seemed as though Dean couldn’t walk in a straight line- continually bumping into you - shoving you straight into Sam.

“Can’t be, after that whole witch thing he’s really careful with his drinks.”

“Hm…”

- -

“Mid life crisis?” Sam proposes in a hushed voice from the huddled corner of a motel lobby.

Dean had bought two rooms instead of the usual one accompanied by “we’re livin’ offa credit card scams and prayers. Besides, we’ve all pretty much seen eachother’s junk anyway.”

“He’s 30” you replied while watching Dean flirt with the woman behind the counter.

“With this job and his liver, it’s midlife.”

- -

Finally, the night had rolled around.

“Been dazed and confused for so long it can’t be true~”

The radio humming as the Impala raced down the road.

Normally, nights like this would be relaxing. Windows rolled down, the sounds of the cold and buzzing night mixed with the same five albums Dean rotated. Empty back roads and the three of you endearingly out of tune as you sang along.

But this night was simply and plainly, dead.

The air in the car had a tension not even Page and Plant could cut through. You all silently sat in your unassigned-assigned seats: Dean driving, Sam shot gun and you in the back watching the night woosh by.

It all came to a head earlier when Dean notified you and Sam that you two were on stake-out duty. You watched as Sam’s expression visibly changed into one of suppressed nausea. Sure, stakeouts usually sucked ass but did the thought of being alone with you really drive him to the point of sickness?

You breathed a sigh, sinking further into your seat at the memory.

Sam steals a glance at you in the rear view- you looked sad. Guess you weren’t too excited at the thought of a stakeout either.

The car stops about 50 yards in the underbrush in front of a dilapidated old building in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

The light previously provided to you by the stars was dimmer now due to the thick miles of pine trees stretching high above- looking as though they could touch the sky themselves.

“Aaand we’re here,” Dean said, switching off the ignition

“Mind telling us where “here” is exactly?” Sam quipped.

“Like I said, it’s a nest.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem. That’s about the only thing you’ve said.”

“Okay, fine- look, We’ve had a lot of duds lately and I didn’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up if it wasn’t the real deal.” Dean shrugs.

Dean was an incredibly good liar. Or as he liked to call it, thinking on his feet.

“Wow you are s- “

“Such a great older brother, I know. I’m gonna go walk the perimeter, shouldn’t take too lo-“

“Great I’ll come with!”

You watch as Sam quickly follows after Dean- not even letting his brother get the words out before he’s on his feet and out of the car like he’ll catch the plague if he’s alone with you.

Yeah. Stakeouts really sucked.

From inside the car all you could hear were Sam and Deans muffled voices, but even still, you could tell they were arguing…

“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I know what you’re doing.”

“Well I’d hope so,” Dean chuckled, holding his newly sharpened machete upward to inspect it. “Dad’d kill us if we ever even thought about going in dull and halfcocked.”

“Y’know you’re not the most subtle guy in the world.”

Sufficiently satisfied, Dean re-sheathes the blade and hooks it onto his waistband. “Dunno wacha talkin’ ‘bout, Sammy.”

“You forced me to sit next to her.”

“Leg got bruised las night, had to keep ‘er elevated.”

“Got two rooms?” Sam quirked a brow.

“So? What if i wanted to bring someone back?”

“Dude, you practically threw her into me.”

“Again, the leg. Can’t walk straight.” He shrugs, grabbing a vial of dead-man’s blood and putting it into his pocket.

“Alright, cut the bullshit. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. She’s not into me and i’m-“

“A dumbass.” Dean says sharply.

“E-excuse me?” Sam says, caught off guard.

“The girl is head-over-fuckin-heels for you. you must be a dumbass not to see it.” Dean points an accusing finger at him.

“I-“

“I see the way you look at her, hell, you busted out the guitar for her! ah- don’t give me that look, it was obvious. “

“Okay, fine, you got me Dean.” Sam throws his arms up in an exasperated manner. “I have feelings for her.” He pauses. This is the first time he’s said it aloud. His eyes go to his shoes. “Doesn’t mean she feels the same way.”

“Christ.” Dean slams the trunk, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks around the side of the car. Sam gives a puzzled expression. Dean jerks his head. “Watch this,” Dean says.

With the back of his hooked middle and index finger, Dean knocks on the back window of the Impala.

“Hm?” You lift your head from the book in your lap.

It’s a quick set of movements, but obvious, unthought action: your eyes first land on the source of the sound, Dean. He waves. You smile.

Then, all in the fraction of a second you look at Sam. Your smile falters. A short, flustered breath escapes your nose.

Your eyes go back to Dean, your lips curving into a poor attempt at a casual smile.

“See?” Dean says once you turn your attention back to your book.

“See what?” Sam replies, his voice growing annoyed and incredulous- having not picked up on anything out of the ordinary.

“You really make me wanna punch you sometimes.”

“Wha-, you know what, Dean, is this case even real? Cause if it’s not let’s just go back to the motel and-“

“Okay, Okay.” Dean pushes his arms in a ‘calm down’ motion. “It’s real, Columbo. Here,” He reaches behind his back, past the sides of his coat and pulls the local newspaper from the waistband of his jeans. “Happy now?”

Sam’s eyes skim the headline: Reports of “Cult like behavior” spotted near the old McCrowe house.

Below is a photograph of the dilapidated home they were parked in front of.

“Yes, but, h-“

“How do you know it’s real? Ya don’t. But i know you couldn’t take the risk; Even if you tried.”

Sam frowns, combing a hand through his hair. Dean smiles. “Go get ‘em, tiger” Dean says, patting his brother on the shoulder.

"You're an asshole."

Dean walks away with an extra bounce in his step. Sam frowns, again.

After taking a long moment, partially to regain his bearings, partially waiting till his brother disappeared around the bend, Sam pulls open the door.

“…Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

That wasn’t awkward at all.

Leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the book carried at your side rhythmically beats against your hip as you walk.

“So… figure out what’s up with Dean?”

“Oh, uhm,” He tosses the newspaper onto the dash as he slides into the front seat to cover his hesitation. “Nope. Not a clue.”

“Eh, I just hope he sorts himself out. If he keeps walking like that i think i’ll be bruised soon.” You chuckle at your own joke. “Guy’s got hips like Shakira, they do not lie.”

Crickets. Literal crickets fill the beat of silence after that joke.

You knew it was bad but damn.

“Ookay… tough crowd,” You mumble.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Sam said as if he were snapping out of a trance. “yeah heh, Shakira.”

You simply resign yourself to the book in your lap, every once in a while, taking a glance at the house ahead.

Meanwhile, Sam’s gaze never leaves the house for a moment. He had an expression you couldn’t quite place and an almost glazed over look in his eyes.

“Hey, i’m gonna go catch up with Dean, you’ll be fine right?” He says suddenly.

“No,” You slam your book shut and turn straight to Sam. “Sit your ass back down. we need to talk.”

“I’m sorry?”

The words come barreling from your mouth like a falling knife, sharp and unpredictable. “You have been super weird all day- I swear it’s hereditary- Dean acting strange, that i can deal with, but you? i-i don’t know what to do with that.”

A sinking sort of realization sets in. “I- god i’m so sorry.”

“I mean, did i do something? ‘Cause if i did i’m terribly sorry-“

“No, no, you didn’t do anything i swear.”

“Then what is it? i thought things were good and then- Look, if there’s something wrong just say the word and i’m there.”

“i know that but-“

“I’ll listen if you need it, i’m your friend and i wanna help.”

“That’s the problem.”

A beat of silence.

“That you’re my friend, just, my friend. That’s what’s wrong."

You feel your mouth going dry.

The words come tumbling out of Sam’s mouth much faster than he can think. “I-I knew from the moment i met you that you were this super cool and sweet and pretty but also badass at the same time kinda person and then it sorta spiraled into a crush, -which was innocent enough- so i thought it’d go away but then it didn’t and then-“

Every word, every thought, every action, everything within Sam is cut short and fades off when your lips collide with his. Your hands cup the sides of his face. His eyes widen before slowly dropping shut.

A moment later the kiss breaks and you’re sat there, staring dumbly into those gorgeous hazel eyes. From this new vantage point (the middle of the front seat) the gaps between the pines overhead is greater, allowing for starlight to filter in. The parts of his face not obscured by the shadows of his hair were illuminated in perfect detail. The soft edges of his face look almost sharp given the looming shadows, that detail though, is contrasted by the rosy blush spreading on his cheeks.

“…I wanted to shut you up,” You blink. “But I should’ve asked, i’m sor-“

The last of your attempt to apologize is muffled as Sam’s lips crash into yours.

His hand rests on the far side of your neck, his thumb moving across your cheek. The kiss grows in intensity, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, your breath short and hot on his face. You drop your hands from his jaw and begin to slide them down his torso, eliciting a low growl-like sound from him. You both grow in fervor, the kiss bordering the fine line between sweet and desperate.

His tongue pushes past your lips and begins exploring you with warm desire. A soft sound escapes your throat at the feeling, his body growing warm, breaths shaky, and his tongue needly licking at the inside of your mouth.

Sam pulls away but only for a moment. He takes a quick survey of your face: lips red, breathing coming out in short pants, hair messy and all of you elucidated by the stars outside. You were no longer a reverie- some fantasy far out of reach. You were right there, lovely and more attention capturing than any star. So he says the thought that’s been on repeat in his mind since the moment he met you. What he’s thought on a thousand breathless afternoons when the sun shines just right on your face: “I love you”

“I love you too.” You reply without missing a single beat. you don’t have to think about it, not even for a second. You love him.

Taglist: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @wowzabowza69 comment to be added/ removed

#sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #one shot #reader insert #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural one shot #spn fic #spn

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hollybell51 · 1 year

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Last night on Earth

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

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Cas x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005), s05e03 "free to be you and me"

Word count: 6.4K

Summary: following the hooker failure, you feel that sitting alone in a shitty abandoned house is not the best way to spend one's last night on Earth. Cas seems to agree with you.

Content: smut! Yay! First kisses, first time, making out, handjobs, hickeys, penetrative sex, safe sex (yay!), cowgirl, mutual masturbation, fingering, gags? if you squint? maybe? like a hand over the mouth. Discussions of sex work and sex workers (I'm not commenting on anything, it's just there as dialogue due to the nature of the episode, and all dialogue/internal monologue regarding the topic is purely for the furtherment of the plot). Talking during sex, Cas is loud. Sex on a couch, spooning, almost-love-confessions ("like-confessions"). Very light comment on body image, some very vague descriptions of scars (reader is a hunter). Cas is just Cas and I love him for it. He's also a virgin. Dean's probably a warning but I adore him.

Notes: Heyyyy how's it going? One day into my holidays and I churn out this bad boy. Couldn't get the idea out of my head, and hey, I'm a sucker for virgin angels. This show is rapidly taking over my whole life lmao.

It's also been a while so I just thought I'd remind people of the taglist form, and the existence of my AO3 (if you wanna read my stuff there for whatever reason). Anyways enjoy, stay safe out there xx

“That was quick,” you called as the door creaked open, Dean’s low chuckle echoing through the hallway. You closed the book you’d been reading – a shitty paperback you’d picked out of a bargain bin – and watched as the other hunter dropped his jacket onto a rusted dining chair. You’d expected them to be gone for a few hours, hence your foray into the realms of “downtime”, but it had barely been one since they’d left, Dean throwing an obscenely enthusiastic wink your way as he shoved an apprehensive looking Cas out to enjoy his last night on Earth.

“We had to wrap it up pretty fast.” Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas, laughter still clinging to his face. You hadn’t seen him look that happy in ages, not for this long. Well, that was something at least.

You’d had your doubts about the whole idea from the moment Dean had mentioned it. Sure, sex was sex. It was something that could be pretty darn nice and that you were glad for in your life, but you weren’t sure if Dean fully grasped that it was never the same with a hooker. It would never feel as good, it would never be meaningful, it would be a service purchased from a provider. A business transaction. That wasn’t any way to experience it for the first time, in your opinion.

“Good time not a long time, then?” you asked mildly.

“Would you say that, Cas?”

The angel stiffened, hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat.

You wrinkled your nose, suddenly wondering if you should feel bad. “Bad time?”

Dean snorted. “I’m turning in. You tell (Y/N) about it, she’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you it’s alright. And don’t look so… grief stricken.”

“G’night,” you waved to his retreating back, then turned back to Cas. “Really bad time?”

He really did look grief stricken, standing stock still in the dimness. Even his hair looked droopier than usual, and you almost got out of your seat just to push it off his face. You settled for putting your book down and leaning forward.

“She ran away,” he said after a moment. “I think I scared her.”

“Geez,” you frowned. “How’d you scare a hooker?”

He shrugged. “I told her it wasn’t her fault that her father Gene ran off.” Then, as if it explained everything; “He hated his job at the post office.”

You laughed, but stopped quickly. “Oh, Cas. You know the whole–”

“The whole industry is run on absent fathers, I know.” He sighed. “Dean found it hilarious.”

This time, you did get up, crossing the room to pat his shoulder. You knew Dean wouldn’t have meant anything by it, wouldn’t have been laughing at Cas. Still, a pang of what was almost pity shot through you. It wasn’t about the sex, not really, as much as Dean played that aspect up. It was more all the coulds that never would. Cas wasn’t human, as much as he could pass it off (mostly), but there were so many things that he wasn’t going to get to try now. You just didn’t understand how he could so casually volunteer to die at the drop of a hat. It was either incredibly selfless, or incredibly selfish. Or maybe just stupid.

But no, Cas wasn’t stupid. He was razor sharp, a soldier of God, even if you poked fun at him when he didn’t understand your and Dean’s pop-culture reference infused slang. It had only been the last time you’d seen him that you’d vowed to make him sit through all the Star Wars movies, something you hadn’t realised until afterwards had sounded a lot like a “movie and chill” proposal. Luckily, he wouldn’t have picked up on that. Just like he wouldn’t have picked up – like Dean had – the moments where you caught yourself watching him, or the smiles that were just too damned determined to break out on your face when he showed up – either in the real world or in your mind. And thank the heavens nobody but you noticed the tiny flurries of butterflies in your stomach you’d noticed increasingly often when he was around, the surges of warmth that would sneak up and rush over you unexpectedly when you thought of him, the tingles that flooded your skin when he stood that little bit too close to you.

Which, when you thought about it, was maybe contributing to the ounce of vindication you were feeling regarding the hooker failure. It wasn’t all the “I told you so” type of satisfaction, anyway, and you weren’t too proud to admit when you liked someone.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him now, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You’re giving me a pat on the back and telling me it’s alright,” he sighed, almost mournfully. “Dean said–”

You reached up, pressing a finger to his lips and shaking your head. “You wanna know something?”

He nodded, brows furrowed. He hadn’t drawn back, you noticed.

“It doesn’t matter how much sex Dean has,” you whispered, hand still floating close by his face. “I wouldn’t take a damn letter of his advice in that department.”

“Why not?” His breath tickled your skin, and suddenly you realised just how close you were standing.

You shrugged, dispelling the shiver that had run up your spine. “I just know if a dude came onto me how he comes onto chicks, I’d kick him in the balls.”

“I’ll make a point to not come onto you like he does, in that case.”

It took a moment – past the words “like he does”, not that he wouldn’t come onto you full stop, but like Dean does – for the fact that it was a joke to sink in, then you smiled. Maybe there was, or had been, hope for him yet. You took a breath, turning the words over in your mind. It was now or never, you supposed.

“I want you to know,” you said carefully, “if you die–”

“When. Tomorrow, when I die.”

“Uh, yeah.” You swallowed. How could he be so matter of fact about it? How could he just say it like that? It didn’t matter, you supposed. Whether he said it or didn’t, it wasn’t going to change the fact that it was happening.

“When I die…” he prompted when you were silent.

“I want you to know that I liked you,” you said simply, then shrugged. “I think I was on the way to really liking you.”

He frowned, and for a moment you thought you’d made a massive mistake. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I don’t mind. I know I’m… a dick.”

“Jesus, Cas,” you snorted. “Guess we say that a bit too much, don’t we?”

“Maybe.”

“And we don’t say ‘thank you’ enough.”

He shook his head, still holding your hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he repeated.

“It’s not about that. Not all of it, anyway.” You smiled, glancing at your hand where it met his. It looked big, wrapped around your fingers, and it fitted painfully well. “But, you know, if it’s your last night on Earth…” You looked up, wiggling your eyebrows. You could play it off as a joke if you needed to, you weren’t too far in yet.

That familiar almost-smile you’d come to look for danced over his lips. “You pity me, dying a virgin? Dying,” he added. “A virgin.”

You laughed. “I don’t… pity you. Not exactly. Not because you’re gonna die a virgin, and definitely not because you’re a virgin.”

“Because I scared away a prostitute?”

“Her loss,” you laughed. “And anyway, if it’s your first and last time, it’d be nice to… y’know… feel good.”

He frowned. “Surely a prostitute would know how to do that?”

“Maybe the technicalities,” you shrugged, “but there’s more to it than that. There’s feelings, y’know?”

“Feelings?”

Again, you shrugged, suddenly self conscious. What were you doing? “Two way street kind of thing,” you explained lamely. “Not just someone you want, but someone who wants you. Not just your money.” You were acutely aware of the unspoken words floating beneath the casual sentence. I want you. It could be me.

A pause, where his eyes seemed to bore into your soul. He had a knack for that, you’d noticed. Sometimes you felt like he could see right to the very core of your being. In the dimness, they looked even more startlingly blue than usual. He was so close, you could almost count his eyelashes, almost feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath the coat, jacket, shirt, tie…

“When it’s…” He paused, his tongue darting over his lips. God, his lips. “Someone you want.”

“Mhm.”

“Someone who wants you.”

“Mhm.”

“Not just your money.”

You hadn’t taken your eyes off his mouth through the whole exchange, and your voice, when you asked, sounded softer than you’d meant it to, breathy and faint to your own ears. “Do you want me, Cas? Last night on Earth, and all.”

The corner of his mouth curled up, brows twitching into a thoughtful frown. No, you thought, not quite a frown. Something else, more curious than confused. Almost quizzical. “I think…” He paused, drawing breath. “I think I do.”

“Ok,” you smiled, ignoring the butterfly rampage taking place in your stomach. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. Not your life, anyway, even if it was Cas’s last night on Earth. It didn’t exist outside the pages of those shitty paperbacks.

“Do you want me?” Cas asked.

“Mhm.” It was all you could manage, really. Then you were stretching up the last few inches between your face and his, pressing your lips gently against his own.

He was perfectly still for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, almost three. Then his hand tightened around yours and he pulled you closer, trench coat rustling where your chest met it. He kissed you the way you remembered the first boy who’d ever kissed you – a boy in your year level at school, at a party, playing spin the bottle no less – had kissed you. The want was all there, the enthusiasm and anticipation and the only half-conscious desire for more. His lips remained shut, but you could feel in it that he knew it wasn’t quite right.

You pulled away briefly, just enough to raise a hand to his mouth and run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Like this,” you murmured, pushing just enough to part his lips. Then your hands were in his hair and you were pulling him down to you, and this time it was perfect.

He made a little sound of pleasure as your tongue slipped beside his, stroking, caressing, gently as you could. Without any guidance, his hand had found the cloth-shielded contours of your breast, tracing the outline with a sort of awe. His fingers ran along the neckline of your top, dipping under the material, curving around your bare shoulder, exploratory and cautious.

You let him explore you, his hands mapping out every curve he could touch, tongue darting into every uncharted depth he could find, tasting and learning and discovering parts of you you hadn’t guessed could be felt like this through just a kiss. Your mind spiralled as his hand eased under your shirt, cool fingers tickling the skin of your hip. He squeezed gently, pulling you against him harder, and you gave in completely. You weren’t sure if it was what he had been going for, but when you pushed your pelvis against his he gasped; a quiet, shuddering little sound that went straight to your panties.

“Ok?” you breathed between kisses, then, at his nod, you did it again.

His voice was strangled when he said your name, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Oh Cas, you thought. A rush of affection washed over you at how eager he was, where just an hour before he’d been being literally pushed out the door by Dean, looking as terrified as you’d ever seen him at the prospect of sex. Now he was kissing you hungrily, kneading at your skin, inching your shirt up off your torso, his feet at risk of tangling with yours as he walked you backwards. Not to mention the increasingly noticeable bulge pressed against you.

“Clothes off,” you breathed, already undoing his tie. “On the couch.”

He paused, then he was shrugging off the trench coat, the blazer following suit – no pun intended – and landing with a soft rustling thump on the floor. You stepped back, just a little, as he deftly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, drinking in every inch of skin like a kid in a lolly shop. Fuck, maybe you had the hots for him even worse than you’d thought.

“Are you going to undress too?” The question was mild, matter of fact, but something in the way Cas had paused midway through relieving himself of his pants and was watching you, hands still on the belt buckle, made you stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, but your voice still came out too low, too husky. “Sure.”

His gaze didn’t leave you for an instant – apart from when he kicked his discarded trousers aside – as you pulled your shirt the rest of the way over your head, slid your jeans as gracefully as you could down your legs. You shivered slightly in the cool night air, acutely aware of your hunter’s body.

Cas’s eyes widened, scanning over you and taking in every inch of your skin. It wasn’t perfect, you were aware of that. It wasn’t like a hooker’s body, it carried you around as you fought monsters, and was littered with the proof of said monster fights. You wondered if Cas had seen other – normal – human bodies like this, if he’d find the painfully obvious reminders of your mortality somehow repellent. You suddenly felt very, very small and very, very human.

“Sorry about… y’know…” You shrugged, patting your thigh awkwardly. “The meatsack’s a little dinged up. Most people don’t look like this.”

“Don’t look like what?” he frowned, finally looking back at your face.

You shrugged again, poking a long white scar over your side. The first werewolf you’d ever come face to face with, and nearly the last. “Scarred. At least not as much as I am,” you added.

A shiver shot up your spine as Cas settled his hands on your bare waist, fingers running over the most noticeable marks. “Don’t apologise,” he said softly. “You’re human, and you spend your days killing monsters. It would be more disturbing if you were unblemished.”

You laughed at that, a small breathy sound. “You think I’m disturbing?”

He smiled faintly. “You’re not so bad.”

You felt your own mouth curve, matching his. “Neither are you.”

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours once more. This kiss was softer, more intimate, maybe a little too intimate. You were vaguely aware of the couch behind you. Before your knees knocked against its side, you broke away – a difficult task, given that Cas chased your lips like a lab rat after cheese – and spun, laying your hands firmly on his chest.

“Couch,” you muttered, giving a gentle push.

He pulled you with him as he sat down, his hands running down over your hips, your thighs, back up again to your waist. He watched you carefully as his touch slid up the centre of your torso, over your bra, lingering momentarily on the anti-possession sigil tattooed over your heart before he moved on, across the line of your ribs. Unbidden, the memory of the last time he’d touched you there sprang to mind; the sharp, burning pain and throbbing after-ache of the Enochian sigils being literally carved into your bones.

“I can see them,” he whispered, as if he’d read your mind. “The sigils.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How do they look?”

“Foreign,” he said after a moment. “They don’t belong.”

You shrugged, unsure how to respond to that. Sure, the sigils weren’t part of you, and you didn’t exactly know how you felt about angel writing being carved into your ribcage, but there was also something reassuring about knowing it was there, knowing you carried that kind of magic with you. In you.

Cas’s eyes lifted from your body, fixing on your own. “Can you feel them?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Not really. Not physically. But I know they’re there.”

“Perhaps I should have asked,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s your body, after all.”

“No,” you smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I kinda like the idea of you scribbling on me. Bone graffiti.”

“Bone graffiti?”

You felt the smile grow, nodding. “Besides,” you added, “I’ll always have a little bit of you, even after you're gone. Like a… souvenir.”

“Oh,” was all he said. You supposed people were right about impending death making people sappier. But still, what you said was true. Your own ribs had become a kind of lucky charm, a talisman, a locket of sorts.

You dragged yourself out of that line of thinking before you went any further, turning your attention back to the angel currently underneath you on the couch. Underneath you and very shirtless. You’d placed your own hands on his chest in an attempt to not fall over on top of him, and now you let yourself touch him – really touch him. His chest heaved under your fingers as you swept over him, a tiny, strangled noise falling from his lips.

“Alright?” you asked, pausing for a moment.

He nodded, shifting slightly under you. “It’s good,” he said softly.

“Keep going?”

Again, a nod. Cautiously, gently, you spread your fingers over his chest. His heart beat fast, thudding frantically as you moved your other hand lower, down the centre of his torso, following the contours of his lithe muscles. You reached the waistband of his underpants, pausing.

“Can I?” you asked, your hand hovering over his barely concealed erection.

“Yes,” he whispered, tongue darting over his lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your hand, back to your face again.

You smiled as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. His dick was hot to the touch, hard and already damp at the tip. “You ever touched yourself?” you asked as you withdrew your hand, spitting into your palm.

Cas’s breath hitched. “Once.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips again. “Dean said I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well…” You smiled again, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking languidly. “You can tell me.”

He gave a sort of half gasp, half moan, his grip tightening on your thigh. “I found Dean’s magazine,” he confessed. “The one with the women, not the cars.”

“Mhm?” You kept your voice mild, focussing on the steady motion of your arm and wrist, your fingers sliding effortlessly over him. You could almost see Cas flipping through the pages of one of those god-awful porn mags Dean insisted on carting around, picture his confused little head-tilt and his frown as he looked through the pictures, his hand creeping to where yours was now, his much larger fingers circling–

“It was uncomfortable,” he continued, jerking you back to the present. “Too hot. I really just wanted it to go away.”

“And did it?”

“Not until I– oh!” He broke off as your thumb slid over the leaking head of his cock, fingers digging into your thigh.

You fought off the surge of heat the sound sent shooting through you, watching his slightly parted lips, his wide eyes. “Did you cum?” you asked evenly.

“Yes,” he panted, hips twitching up slightly. “Oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Yes, you did cum?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

“Was it good?”

Another soft moan, then he smiled. “Not as good as this.”

Maybe it was the praise, maybe the moan, maybe the smile. Either way, the words went straight to your panties. You ignored it, stopping yourself from grinding against him with willpower that would have impressed Jesus. Although, you weren’t sure how he would have felt about you fucking a literal angel.

You leant forward, kissing his lips gently, then his jaw, then his neck, then his chest. You kept going, tracing a path inexorably downwards, shuffling backwards to straddle his thigh as he shifted with you, now splayed along the couch lengthways.

“Help me out,” you muttered, your hand moving beside your face as you attempted to pull his underwear off. Obediently, he lifted his hips and kicked them aside, the muscles of his stomach twitching as you placed a kiss on the junction of his hip. And holy shit, you could have just watched his torso moving like that forever. You kissed his hip again, sucking gently at the spot, licking over the mark you conjured. Then you added another beside it, and another, and another. A little belt of hickeys across his pelvis.

“Do you, hm, touch yourself too?” he asked, breathless and raw.

“Fuck, Cas.” You paused where you’d been about to kiss the base of his cock, raising your eyes to his. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell again, the skin almost glowing in the dim light.

He frowned. “Am I not supposed to ask that?”

“You can ask me anything you want,” you assured him, kissing the little trail of hair below his belly button. “And yeah, I do.”

“Does it feel good?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“Do you…” He paused, searching for the words. “Do you want to do it now?”

“This is about you,” you said softly, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I want you to feel good too.”

You sat up, studying him. There was nothing by sincerity in his eyes, the genuine desire – and desire there was – for you to enjoy yourself. And why shouldn’t you indulge that? You were having a great time as it was, and there was no denying the throbbing ache that had grown exponentially between your legs.

“You want me to touch myself?” you asked, double checking.

He nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Ok.” You shed your own underpants, shivering as the cool air came in contact with your wetness. Slowly, you reached down and ran your finger over your clit, your breath hitching in your chest. You repeated the action, your hand moving further down to circle your entrance, slick gathering on your fingers. You’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t ashamed of it. Masturbation was natural, it was a perfectly normal perfectly human thing to do. This, however was different. You’d never had an audience before, never had anyone watch you with such rapt wonder and awe.

Cas’s eyes flicked down to your bra, then back to your face. A question, almost a request.

“Off?” you asked, already reaching behind your back. He nodded, watching carefully as you shed the garment and cast it aside to join the pile of clothes on the floor. Slowly, reverently, he stretched up and kissed your breast, his hand leaving its place on your hip to trace over the other one.

A shiver ran down your spine and you bit down on your lip, attempting futilely to stifle your moan. Absently, your hand resumed its place between your thighs as Cas’s hand left your chest and found its way to his cock. You’d never in a million years have thought you’d be where you were now; touching yourself on top of an angel touching himself while he did his best to turn your chest into one giant hickey. You were hardly complaining.

Something rustled in the next room over, and you both froze. Fuck, you thought. Dean was still (hopefully) asleep, only the wall and the hastily closed door to that room barring him from hearing you. Cas seemed to have had exactly the same thought, his head tilted slightly as he listened, his breath raising goosebumps on the spit-damp skin of your chest. There was another rustle, then a quiet snort, then nothing. He hadn’t woken, then.

“We gotta be quiet,” you whispered. You shifted, biting back another moan. “Ok?”

“Ok,” Cas nodded. He pressed his lips firmly together, eyes flicking down to where your hand disappeared between your legs. You hissed as you resumed your movement, acutely aware of every possible sound you or Cas made, ears pricked for any other disturbance from nextdoor.

Cas’s free hand was still resting on your thigh, firmly holding you in place on top of himself. His wrist brushed your own with every stroke of his cock, the skin over his stomach and chest twitching ever so slightly. His own thigh tensed as he thrust into his hand, something that you could only describe as a whimper falling from his lips. Heat surged over you, your mind awash with desire. If only that hooker knew what she was missing.

“Sorry,” he muttered almost immediately, eyes darting towards the door.

“‘Salright,” you replied, swallowing hard. Being quiet was a much more difficult task than you’d anticipated, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the possibility of being caught just a little bit. You grunted softly as your finger brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, the familiar rhythm and movements working just as well as ever, and even better when you had Cas to look at. Not to mention the warmth of his mouth where it occasionally found your breasts again.

But you wanted more, you needed more. The same part of you that was electrified by your own touch craved his, especially when his beautiful hands were right there and his eyes were still fixed on you like you were the centre of the universe, his own movements becoming faster and more frantic, chest heaving.

You paused, much as it pained you. “Do you wanna go further?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gently, you laid your hand over his and peeled it away from his cock. Wriggling forwards a little, you finally – finally – rocked your hips over his, revelling in the hot hardness of him against your slick. His mouth fell open, fingers tightening on your own.

“Here, Cas. I want you inside me, wanna fuck you properly.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” he sighed, his own hips matching your movement.

“Will you let me? Let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Yes, of course.”

You smiled. “Ok, one second.” You reached over the side of the couch, digging through the pockets of your jeans until you found your wallet – and the little foil package inside it.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked as you tore it open and set the latex atop his dick.

“It’s a condom,” you explained. “So I don’t get pregnant. No offence,” you grinned, “but I don’t really wanna have your babies any time soon.”

“Oh.” He swallowed, processing. “That’s… understandable.”

“All good?” At his nod, you slid the condom the rest of the way down, spitting into your hand once more and resuming your earlier ministrations. “It feels a little different, I know,” you whispered as you moved to grind against him once more.

“It’s still good,” he assured you, placing his hands gently on your hips.

You smiled. “Ready?”

“Yes.” The word was a breath, nothing more, but it was all you needed. Carefully, you lined him up and sank down, watching his face carefully. His eyes widened, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as a deep groan reverberated through the space between you.

“Gotta be quiet,” you reminded him, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked. “Don’t wanna wake Dean up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, “quiet.”

You leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss on his lips, rocking your hips over his. He was everything you’d imagined and so much more. It was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. You wanted to go back in time and kick your past self for having waited this long.

“God, Cas,” you sighed. “Oh God.”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stretched up and captured your lips with his, moving down over your jaw to your neck, sucking gently just as you’d done to the skin of his hip. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close against you as you lifted and lowered your hips, a faint whine somehow slipping from your lips despite your best efforts.

“Is this, hm, ok?” he asked, his usually gravelly voice made even more so.

“Fuck,” you gasped as his hand came to rest on your ass, kneading at the soft flesh, moving up over the front of your hips where your leg met the rest of your body. “So good, Cas.”

“You’re so good,” he murmured, guiding your movements gently. He thrust into you, his hips meeting yours halfway, stomach muscles flexing.

“Let me,” you said, pushing him backwards into the couch cushions. “You relax, yeah? I’ve got it. I’ve got you.”

He nodded, head tipping back as you bounced on his dick, the rough fabric of the cushion beneath you scratching at your knees. Fumbling slightly, your hands found purchase on his chest and you locked your elbows in an odd sort of imitation of CPR. If CPR was done from the front rather than the side, you supposed, but you weren’t exactly doing any resuscitation.

His chest heaved under your touch, another low groan seeming to echo in the otherwise stillness of the night. The tiny part of your brain that wasn’t totally consumed with the wonderful pleasure-ache of his cock hitting deep inside you and the burn of your thighs was torn between telling him to be quiet and just listening to him, but then he was licking his lips again and his mouth was falling open and you were lost.

“(Y/N),” he panted, his eyes fixed on your face. “Oh, (Y/N), oh my–”

“Alright?” you asked, biting back a moan as you found a particularly good angle.

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s, hm, so good.” He glanced momentarily down at where your body met his, another groan rumbling in his chest.

“Sh–” you whispered, half tempted to press your hand over his mouth. Or maybe your own, given the struggle you were facing to remain quiet yourself.

“Sorry, sorry I–”

You cut him off quickly. “It’s alright Cas, you’re fine. Just, fuck–”

“(Y/N),” he panted, the muscles of his arms and stomach flexing as his fingers gripped the couch cushion, luminescent in the dimness. Again, his eyes flicked downwards, this time to the soft mound of flesh currently on display.

You smiled, reaching down to take his hand, drawing it up to rest over your pelvis. His skin was warmer than you’d ever felt it, faintly clammy and God his hand was big under your own. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d caught yourself picturing his hands in this kind of context, and you didn’t want to try. His fingers splayed over your skin, moving with you, covering the whole space below your naval.

“That’s where you are,” you panted. “That’s where I can feel you, Cas, right there.”

A small, strained noise you could only describe as a whine. “Is it, ah, good? Do you like it? Do you like feeling… me?”

“Fuck,” you sighed. “Yeah, sure do, Cas. Do you like feeling me?”

He smiled, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Of course. I like it immensely.”

You felt yourself clench at his words, and this time you were unable to restrain the downright pornographic moan that tore from your throat. Any other time, you might have been embarrassed, but Cas seemed to like it. Pressing your lips firmly together, you glanced hastily towards the other room, but as far as you could tell there was no disturbance.

“(Y/N), oh, (Y/N), I don’t think—” He swallowed hard, eyes wide and back on your face.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t— I don’t think I can be quiet, (Y/N) I—”

Affection bloomed alongside the desire in your gut, and you had half a mind to tell him it was alright, he didn’t even have to worry about being quiet at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t love the noises he was making. But Dean was only one room over, and you didn’t want to wake him.

“You can, Cas,” you breathed, “you can. You’re doing so well already, we just gotta— fuck.”

He’d bucked his hips up into you, the movement jolting the steady knot of pleasure forming low in your stomach. He was close, you could see it as much as hear it, but the thought of the thin walls and your friend sleeping in the next room over had taken root more firmly in your mind now.

“It’s so much,” Cas gasped. “Oh, oh, (Y/N) it’s so much—”

You managed a smile, slowing down your movements a little. “I know,” you said softly. “You’re ok, yeah?”

He nodded frantically. “Hm, yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Keep going, please—”

Another soft moan slipped from your mouth, Cas’s answering groan enough to make your legs shake. It was too loud, and any other time you’d have soaked up his praises and curses and everything, but not now. After a moment’s hesitation, you clamped your hand firmly over his mouth, sh-ing him gently. If possible, his eyes widened even further and he groaned against your skin.

“Alright?” you breathed.

Another frantic nod, an almost-whimper as your grip firmed up. Well I’ll be damned, you thought vaguely. Who’d have guessed he was into that?

You felt him shiver all over as you continued to rock your hips over his, his hand where it rested on your hip tightening. You wondered if you’d have finger-shaped bruises later. It didn’t matter, you told yourself as he moaned again, his stomach muscles tensing, something that could have been your name squashed under your hand.

“Sh, shh!” you gasped. Between holy shit I’m so close and holy shit he’s so close, the thought that Dean was right there and would hear you was still rooted in your mind. “Cas, sh, Dean’s right– ah, fuck, Dean’s–”

You broke off as Cas’s chest heaved, his hips bucking up into you once more. His mouth had fallen open under your hand and he was gasping something, angel curse-words, maybe? It didn’t matter, not when his eyes were screwed shut and his head was tipped back, your name sprinkled into the litany of foreign words like a prayer.

The sight was enough to make the bomb that had been building in your stomach explode, sparks of pleasure shooting through your aching legs right to your toes and back up again. You might have said Cas’s name, you weren’t sure, but the sentiment was there. You clamped a hand over your own mouth, nothing but the need to be quiet reverberating through your pleasure-blanked mind.

After what felt like an age, your brain managed to find its way back into your skull and the aftershocks of your orgasm faded from your body. Gently, you removed your hand from Cas’s mouth and looked down at him, smiling.

“Alright?” you asked.

His hair was a mess, his brow lightly beaded with sweat, cheeks flushed. There was even a slight red mark where your hand had been, which you stroked gently.

“I’m more than alright,” he smiled, turning to place a tiny kiss on your fingers. “Are you?”

“Good,” you nodded as you slid off him, mourning the sudden emptiness momentarily as you peeled off the condom, tying it in a neat knot to be disposed of later. Then he was lifting his arm, wriggling with you as if he could read your mind, and you were being cocooned against his body.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “if I was too loud.”

“You weren’t,” you assured him quickly. “Not at all. Sorry about… gagging you. I should’ve asked. That’s not what usually happens.”

He hesitated, turning to meet your eyes. “I… didn’t mind.”

“No?”

He shook his head, a small, nervous smile dancing across his lips. “No. In fact, I quite liked it.”

You felt your own smile widen as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, taking his hand where it rested on his chest. “Good,” you said. “What about the rest? What do you think?”

He sighed, a beautifully satisfied noise that flooded you with warmth. “I think I should not have waited this long.”

You laughed, pressing closer. “Mhm?”

“Mhm. Thank you, (Y/N), truly.”

“Oh,” you said softly, turning away to hide the blood rushing to your face. “That’s ok, Cas. Thank you.”

He gave another little hum, shifting to drape his arm over your waist and pull you into him, fingers skimming your ribs. Getting spooned by a divine warrior of God, you thought with a thrill. Real life really was stranger than fiction.

“You’re tired,” he murmured, his voice seeming to rumble through you in the best way possible. “You should sleep.”

“Hold on,” you protested as you felt his arm withdrawing. You grabbed his hand, pulling it firmly back down to rest on your stomach, wiggling closer. “There was a blanket on the back, grab that. I’m staying here.”

You could almost feel him frowning when he replied. “You’d not rather a bed?”

You only hesitated a moment before bending to kiss his arm. “I’d rather you.”

He didn’t seem to know quite what to say to that, but after a beat something heavy and slightly scratchy was being draped over you, and Cas’s arm was tightening around your waist, and his lips were pressing against your shoulder.

“G’night,” you whispered.

“Good night, (Y/N).”

It was Dean who found his two friends curled together on the couch the next morning. He snorted, taking in the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders in tandem with Cas’s, his hand enveloping your smaller one where it rested just above the blanket, the assortment of what was very clearly Cas’s suit and your own clothes scattered over the floor. Well, he supposed, the night hadn’t been a complete failure. He had half a mind to throw something at you, the scene was so jarringly… sweet.

“Rise n’ shine lovebirds,” he called instead, “we’ve got shit to do.”

#supernatural #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel smut #castiel x you #supernatural fanfiction #shameless smut #supernatural smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #cas x reader #female reader #x reader #reader insert

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lunaroserites · 11 months

Text

Stunning

Pairing: Established Castiel x Winchester!Reader (Fem)

Summery: Based after Castiel became human, and loosely based off a post I seen about how after he became human he say Dean's face for the first time.

Words: 1365

Warning: Fluff, Kissing, a little sad with a happy ending, Canon Divergent (Canon is a suggestion). Not edited we die like Winchesters.

She sat comfortably on one of the plush couches in the library. Her coffee mug clutched between her hands, she was trying to absorb the heat from the ceramic mug. The bunker was cold in the mornings, the fans above that pulled fresh air in were noticeable in the quiet of the morning.

Her morning tea brought her the heat she needed to get ready for the day. Her brothers had left her in a hurry last night after getting a frantic call from Castiel telling them the angels fell and he lost his grace. She wanted to go but her brothers said it would be best if she stayed home and manned the phone, hunters would be calling for assistance and she was best to answer their calls.

Her job as a hunter was picking up for Bobby, she would spend days on end researching with him, learning from him, she took over for him when he passed. Her heart clenched thinking back to the elder hunter she viewed as a father.

Her brothers had called an hour ago to tell her they would be home soon and they had her angel in tow. Well he wasn’t an angel anymore she figured. Losing his grace meant he was pretty much human now.

The bunker door banged open, making her jump as the peaceful quiet was shattered by the sound of heavy boots and grunts as three of the most important men in her life made their way to where she was curled up. One of Dean's flannels covered most of her upper body, the sleeves rolled up. She never slept well alone so she would wear one of Dean’s flannels and she would use Sam's blanket and pillow that Castiel would use during the night as she slept next to him. She would surround herself in their safety.

She looked at her brothers, Dean was the first down the stairs he gave her a grim look, she searched his face for something to indicate what she should be prepared for. He gave her very little. Sammy was right behind him and his face was less grim but not much more optimistic looking. The last was Castiel, and he looked awful. He looked exhausted, he looked cold. He looked completely lost. He hadn’t looked at her yet, his face downcast as he made his way down the stairs, he gripped the rail harder than she had ever seen him grip it before.

She stood before Castiel made it to the bottom of the stairs, she walked forward and stood just behind Dean, her hands wrapped around his arm, he brought his free hand up and rubbed soothing circles on her hand. Sammy stood beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, he leaned down, “he’s a little overwhelmed,” he whispered to her.

Castiel was at the bottom landing still looking down but focused on his hands in front of him. She nodded at her brother and took slow steps forward before she stopped a couple paces from the former Angel. He still hadn’t looked up from his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his, she wanted to sooth his fidgeting fingers, ease his worries. Make him feel better.

“Cas,” she said quietly, his heart fluttered at how softly she spoke to him. Her voice brought him some peace, it didn’t sound much different from while he was an angel. The brothers had sounded different. Much more gruff, not as smooth. Her voice was still like little bells that chimed in perfect harmony. Her voice was music to his ears.

She moved closer to him, her other hand touching his cheek gently, she was trying to coax his face upwards so she could look at him fully. He leaned his cheek into her touch, her touch was feather light, gentle and soothing. Her skin felt like a warm blanket to him, her fingers trembling against his cheek. He could feel her worry roll off her in waves. She always wore how she was feeling on her sleeve, he always knew how she was feeling. She was always one of the easiest to understand even while he was Angel.

“Castiel, look at me” she cooed gently at him, he lifted his face and had his eyes closed. He was afraid of her looking into his eyes and not seeing the Angel he was and only seeing the shell that was left. She ran her thumb across his cheek, a few of his tears slipped past his closed eyes. That was a sensation he was not going to get used to anytime soon. “Please love.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her face. He truly looked at her face, for the first time he saw her face. She was beautiful. Her skin was speckled with years of living, laugh lines, crows feet. She looked like she truly lived. While an angel he had never seen her face for what it truly was. But now he sees every pore, every wrinkle, every freckle. Her eyes were a beautiful green like Dean’s, her lips a soft pink and her hair was a lovely mahogany color.

He took his clenched hands from her and placed them on her face, inspecting her, feeling her skin for the first time. He had touched her before but never had it felt this real. It was so overwhelming, his heart was beating loudly in his ears as he stared deeply into her eyes. Her lips parted as she took a sharp breath when he touched her.

Then she smiled at him, “Castiel.”

“You are stunning,” Castiel said breathlessly. He brought her face towards his and kissed her gently. The feeling of her lips on his was almost too much for his mortal heart to handle. He hadn’t imagined what it would be like, to feel life like a human, he hadn’t imagined she would feel this perfect.

Someone cleared their throat behind the two, Castiel reluctantly pulled back from her and she gave him a sweet smile.

“So this my Castiel now?” She said softly, her eyes searching his face.

“This is your Castiel now,” his voice sounded the same, he looked the same, a little rugged and his lips felt the same. The only difference was the lack of soft thumb she would feel buzzing under his skin. The thumbing would get stronger under her touch. That was the only thing that was gone.

“Well I’m okay with that,” she pulled him to her side and wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was just happy he was alive and he was here with her.

Dean looked between his baby sister and Castiel, when they first started dating he was against it. Hell he still didn’t like it. Castiel promised him he would protect her with his life. Something he truly meant as he had risked his life more than once to keep her safe. Now that Cas was human he didn’t know how protecting her would go, but he knew Castiel would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

Sam had left the library and went to find some food for the four of them. He had noticed his blanket on the couch, knowing she stayed there the whole night, waiting for them to come home. Dean’s flannel hung loosely off her frame, and he figured the pillow that was next to his blanket was Castiel’s pillow.

He hated leaving her here alone, she was never good with it, someone always stayed with her or she was with them. Ever since her Castiel got together he always made sure she wasn’t alone for long periods of time and he would constantly update her on his whereabouts. Something Sam appreciated greatly from the former Angel. He looked at the fridge, being held up with a piece of electrical tape, there was a picture of the four of them. They were all smiling, she insisted it be taped to the fridge, a reminder that no matter what they had each other and there was room for happiness in this fucked up world.

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #supernatural #supernatural imagine #castiel fluff #castiel imagine #castielxwinchester!reader #not edited we die like winchesters #winchester sister #reader insert #female reader

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arjwrites · 3 months

Text

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ my masterlist ˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

about/rules

requests: closed (but not for long!)

100 FOLLOWER EVENT: REQUESTS OPEN <3

100 follower event masterlist

SAM WINCHESTER X READER

Close- fluff, fem!reader Summary: Reader breaks her arm on a hunt and needs some somewhat intimate assistance. Who does she ask for help but Sam Winchester, with whom she shares a silent, mutual pining????

Take A Picture, It'll Last Longer- fluff Summary: While hunting with the Winchesters, you had picked up a disposable camera to capture some memories. Each photo represented an important point in your collective journey- all the while, hinting at a budding connection behind the scenes.

Close Behind- angst, gn!reader Summary: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Sam- and that scares the hell out of him. Based on the song “Close Behind” by Noah Kahan.

Heaven Hellbent- angst, fem!reader Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. Part 1 of the series! DEAN WINCHESTER X READER

Back on the Beach- fluff, angst, gn!reader Summary: Reader and the Winchesters find themselves at the beach for a rare day off after a long string of difficult hunts. Something about the special day changes things forever.

Bless the Broken Road- angst, fem!reader Summary: A glimpse into the broken road that led Dean Winchester to you. Based on "Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts.

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- fluff, angst, gn!reader Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

The Space Between- fluff, a little bit of spice, gn!reader Summary: Reader breaks their arm on a hunt and needs a little assistance. Dean version of Close (Sam x Reader)

In The Stillness- angst, fluff, fem!reader Summary: A glimpse into the ways you've impacted Dean Winchester CASTIEL X READER

Numb- angst, comfort, winchester sister!reader Summary: Reader is Sam and Dean’s sister. After a series of unfortunate events, she finds herself separating from her brothers to deal with her own shit the only way she knows how. Castiel, however, has a few things to say about it.

Saving Grace | Part 2- gn!reader Summary: Cas is hurt after a hunt, and when he's hurting, you're hurting. Sometimes even an angel needs a helping hand.

Saving Grace Epilogue- gn!reader Summary: Ways the world has softened since uniting with your angel. Can serve as an epilogue or stand alone!

Lessons on Humanity- gn!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.

GABRIEL X READER Long Day- gn!reader Summary: After a stressful day, a familiar face pops in for a visit. With snacks.

CROWLEY X READER coming soon (leave a request!)

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fanfictionalraven · 6 months

Text

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

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #sam winchester #mary winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #cas #castiel #right where you left me #dean x waitress

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kryptid-writes · 1 year

Text

A Battle of Fates

Y/n is just a regular girl whose dreams are haunted by the devil each night. When these dreams become a reality and she is forced to face her intertwined fate with Lucifer, her world is turned upside down. She is forcefully given the gift of grace and must learn to live with her new found powers with the help of two hunters and their angel. Will she choose to give into her destiny of loving the devil, or will she choose her own fate with a certain Winchester brother?

This story is 18+

This is a slow burn fic that has two endings which allows the reader to choose Dean or Lucifer. The reader is written as female, but descriptions are kept ambiguous to look like anyone.

Characters/pairings: Lucfier x reader, Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Crowley.

General warnings for this story: Graphic violence, smut, and swearing. Other warnings may apply to specific chapters.

(Thank you to my editor and bestie, Tommy)

Chapter 1 - Dream a Little Dream of Me

Chapter 2 - A Gift From the Devil

Chapter 3 - Intruders & Trenchcoats

Chapter 4 - A Winchester Welcome

Chapter 5 - The Bearer of Bad News

Chapter 6 - A Lesson in Enochian

Chapter 7 - Secrets Secrets Are No Fun

Chapter 8 - Clipped Wings

Chapter 9 - Cat’s Out

Chapter 10 - Alone Again

Chapter 11 - Desperate Times

Chapter 12 - A Deal With the Devil

Chapter 13 - Revelations

Chapter 14 - A Battle of Fates

Chapter 15 - Defying Fate (Dean’s Ending)

Chapter 16 - To Eternity (Lucifer’s Ending)

Full Masterlist

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader supernatural #lucifer supernatural #castiel #crowley #sam winchester #fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fic #slow burn #smut #love triangle #choices #reader insert

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supercap2319 · 7 months

Text

Y/N came down the stairs of the bunker towards the library. He had a stupid grin on his face, and he was carrying various Valentine's Day items. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

He hands the brothers, Cas, and Jack each a gift to commemorate this special occasion. He hands Castiel a heart-shaped box of chocolates. "Slut." He affectional calls the angel of the Lord. Cas opens the box and picks up a chocolate, and takes a bite before scarfing down the rest.

Y/N hands Jack at Teddy Bear. "Sweet face." Jack enthusiastically hugs the toy and introduces himself to the bear.

He looks at Dean. "Bitch." He hands him a store bought pie shaped like a heart as Dean's green eyes lighten up with joy.

Finally, he looks at Sam and hands him flowers. "For the sexiest guy that I know." Sam blushed and took the flowers and smelled them with a smile on his face.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #supernatural #sam winchester #castiel #dean winchester #jack kline #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #misha collins #alexander calvert #valentine's day

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castiwls · 7 months

Note

Omggg hii ok so I've always wanted a fic about what the readers and Castiel's conversation or just interaction in general would be. If the two were already in an established relationship and when Lucifer was possessing Castiel had gotten intimate or something with the reader, not knowing it was Lucifer and thinking it was Castiel of course. What would his reaction be and how would he feel. Especially since he probably had to watch the whole thing go down but could do absolutely nothing about it. How would the two make up and such. <3

this is me trying - c.n

Paring; Castiel x fem!reader

Synopsis; You and Castiel struggle with the aftermath of Lucifer

Warnings; Maybe occ

Notes; Hiii tysm for the request! I've truthfully not wrote for Castiel in soo long so I apologise if this is kinda occ.

Masterlist

“and maybe i don’t quite know what to say but I’m here in your doorway”

Taking a deep breath you leaned back against the headboard of your bed. The book in your lap no longer held your attention as you stared blankly down at it. You didn’t know how to feel about the events which have transpired over the last few days, at first you were angry and then that anger seemed to dissipate into an emptiness mixed with guilt.

Guilt that you’d not paid enough attention to notice that for the past few weeks, Lucifer had been running around in your boyfriend's body. Playing it back in your head now you noticed the strange behaviour but at the moment you’d paid no mind.

“Y/n. We need to talk.” Castiel’s voice brought you out of your head. He stood in the doorway a slight frown on his face. You knew exactly what he wanted to talk about but the whole situation still brought a bad taste to your mouth. He watched you for a moment before letting out a sigh and moving into the room.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he turned to you. “I’m not sure what else to say other than sorry.” The angel looked down at his hands as he spoke. You’d never seen him look as regretful as he did now.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me? We could’ve spoken about it Cas.” You placed your book to the side before crossing your legs. “I basically cheated on you, do you know how that feels.” You let out a sigh before reaching over to grab his hand. “I’m not angry at you, I just…I let him into our space, and I told him things thinking I was talking to you. I let him kiss me Cas, and it’s all I can think about.”

In truth, the guilt had been pretty much eating you alive. The emptiness you felt now came from the fact that the guilt had seemingly taken everything else. He was quiet for a moment before squeezing your hand and looking back up.

His eyes met yours for a moment before he shifted slightly closer. “It’s not your fault what happened. It’s my fault I know that,” He frowned again going quiet. You knew from the look on his face that he was struggling to find the words to express how he felt.

He had his own guilt over the whole situation. Having to sit back and watch someone else pretend to be him and interact with you in that way had left him feeling angry and helpless in a way he’d never experienced before. Seeing how it had affected you though was worse than any guilt he could ever feel.

“I’m willing to work with you.” He finished after a moment. He smiled at you before squeezing your hand again. “Thank you.” You squeezed his hand back. You were both quiet for a moment before you patted the space next to you. The tension from his shoulders seemed to drop at your invite and he happily moved next to you.

This was the first time since Lucifer that you’d both been alone together. A sigh of contentment left you as you settled into his side. You knew things weren’t gonna go straight back to how they were. Castiel had still broken your trust by doing what he’d done but you also knew that he would do anything to regain your trust.

You smiled up at him before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. A smile graced his lips as your lips met his and for that moment you allowed yourself to forget about the past few weeks.

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doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months

Text

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.

#castiel x reader #castiel x y/n #castiel x you #cas x reader #cas x y/n #cas x you #castiel #supernatural #spn #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert

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gilverrwrites · 7 months

Note

Im back on my supernatural shit, can you please do TFW + Gabe and anyone else you wanna do reacting to finding out the reader had a dirty dream about them?

Author note: Me too Boo, me too. I added lucifer, just cause I wanted too. Hope you enjoy! I also switched things up with gifs for each instead of one image for everyone. Lemme know which one you guys prefer.

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: that it is enough to exist as you are.

Dean

You’ve never seen a bigger shit-eating grin in all your life; he looks like he hit the jackpot.

No matter how much or how little you tell him, he won’t stop making jokes or bragging how bad you want it.

Dean I need you t- “Yeah you do.” Stop it! “Bet you weren’t saying that in your dreams last night.” *Gesturing at something even remotely suggestive* “Hey hey hey, did we do that?”

He promises to stop if you give him the full run down.

And when you do, he’s like Christmas came early.

All wide eyes and dopy smiles, occasional blushing.

He’s got a million and one questions throughout, but the final and most is obviously: “You wanna go at the real thing?”

Sam

Immediate shuts down for like 5 minutes. His brain has to comprehend and then reboot.

He won’t joke or make fun of you, at least not in front of other people.

But as soon as you’re alone, he’s got questions, lots of detail-oriented questions.

He’s not outright asking what your dream was, just teasing you with meticulously detailed fantasies of his own posed as questions.

“Did I make you beg for it? Did you make me beg?” “Were you completely naked, stretched out underneath me? Were my hands around your throat?” “What did I say? Did I tell you I would ruin you? That you deserved it? Did you want me to?”

Castiel

Angels don’t dream. Primarily because they don’t sleep.

So, he’s not really sure what to make of this confession at first.

Queue the signature furrowed brow and head tilt.

“Why?” I don’t know, I didn’t do it on purpose! “That’s true. I suppose this is your mind’s subconscious way of informing you that you are sexually attracted to me."

Boy, he doesn’t beat around bushes.

He would need time to stew on it from there.

It could be hours, days, maybe weeks before he brings it up again.

“I am curious about your dream.” What dr- oh right. “I am flattered. Should you be willing, I would like to discuss this more. For example, which of us…”

Gabriel

You can sense the raised brows and the satisfied smirk before he even does it.

“Reeeeeally?”

Gabe’s reaction is very similar to Deans, just like a Trickster in a candy store.

Only he’ll wait to get you alone before he starts bombarding you.

If you won’t tell him outright, he’ll keep guessing.

And every new guess is accompanied by a costume and/or scenery change.

“Maybe we filmed the newest instalment of casa erotica?” “No? Maybe you paid Dr Sexy a visit?” “Mile high club?” “No? Kinkier? You into a little BDSM?”

I’ll let you fill in the visual blanks. 😉

Lucifer

His reaction is a lot more subdued.

That doesn’t make it any less dubious. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

He’ll ask earnestly enough to start out.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

When you refuse, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke, or tease.

But the smile he keeps giving you.

The way he watches you, totally engrossed but poised, is enough to drive you crazy.

When he finally asks again, later on, in that low, relaxed tone:

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about your dirty little fantasies?”

Temptation really is his game.

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #spn gabriel x reader #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #spn gabriel #spn lucifer #gilverrwrites

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supernaturalfreewill · 8 months

Text

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."

#castiel #cas x reader #cas reader insert #cas x y/n #cas x you #supernatural imagines #castiel fluff #spn gif imagines #supernatural

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 7 months

Text

Prompt: okay but cas would show up with a handful of weeds, with the roots and dirt still on the bottom, and give them to dean because 'it's the human tradition to bring flowers, right?' and dean would 'yeah. yeah cas that's right' because that is how they say i love you @deanspunchingbag

Title: Surprise me

Pairing: Castiel x Reader (they/them)

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

Word Count: 1,254

Summary: What if you’re friends with Castiel and the Winchester brothers? Castiel, as an angel, obviously has issues with understanding body language and subtext, so you help him out now and then. One day after a case, you all go to a bar. For shits and giggles, you start teaching him about flirting. You’re not a great flirt, but you can read body language and explain it.

Thank Jack that Castiel doesn’t know you’ve been in love with him for a while. If only he would reciprocate your feelings, even a little.

Warnings: Alcohol, consensual licking of arms and neck (sort of)

A/N: This was the first idea I came up with for the prompt and it became self-indulgent. Hush. This is in second person POV.

What if you’re friends with Castiel and the Winchester brothers? Castiel, as an angel, obviously has issues with understanding body language and subtext, so you help him out now and then. One day after a case, you all go to a bar. For shits and giggles, you start teaching him about flirting. You’re not a great flirt, but you can read body language and explain it.

Dean, of course, interrupts you and explains to Castiel, for a couple hours, how to flirt with the ladies and men. You just giggle and chuckle at the stories he tells. It’s even funnier when Dean makes Castiel “practice” these “new moves” on him. Dean keeps at it, and finally the angel seems to be getting the hang of it.

Suddenly, Castiel gets up and goes to get everyone another round of beers, deciding to all get a shot of tequila, salt and lime. He sits back down next to you and distributes everything evenly. He tells you “The bartender said it could be a good tool to flirt with so I thought I’d try, but they didn’t explain how.”

Dean tells Cas to watch Sam and him. Sam and Dean eye each other in their silent communication, they salt and lemon their wrists and lick before shooting the tequila. You giggle when you see their faces.

The brothers aren’t big tequila people,they prefer whiskey or bourbon.

Castiel looks confused and says “That doesn’t seem very flirty.”

You giggle at them and tell Cas that “It isn’t. They’re chicken.”

Castiel then asks you to show him how to shoot the tequila flirtatiously. You know you’re a bit more than buzzed for this, and mumble “What the hell, why not?”

“Okay,” you begin. “I’ll show you. The idea is to make it as close to a body shot as you can, since putting your mouth on someone can be considered flirting if not a potential interest in sex.” You tell him step by step how to make a tequila shot flirty and sexy by taking the ladies wrist—you take Castiel’s wrist, in this case, and place a kiss on the sensitive area/spot inside before licking it.

You tell him how “Most people will laugh it off. That’s when you salt the wet area on their wrist so it sticks.” You salt his wrist and then grab the slice of lime, telling the blue-eyed man to open his mouth only a little. He looks confused, but does as instructed.

You notice Dean and Sam eyeing each other again and nod. They make some excuse to get up, and walk away as you continue teaching the angel.

You stick the lime in Castiel’s mouth to hold it. “The idea is to get a subtle kiss here. They’re going to come and bite the lime to get the juice, and you can either let them have the lime when they do, keep the lime so they only get the juice and you get the lip press, or if you wanna be a true sneak, spit out the lime and get the kiss you want instead.” You smirk at him, not telling him you’ve always been scared to do the latter.

Castiel quirks a brow at you and you have to stop the shiver that it causes, dominating you so easily.

He’d only have to do that brow at you and you’d probably do whatever he says. You can feel yourself beginning to get wet.

Ignoring it, you continue your lesson.

“So, you lick the salt, juice the lime and shoot the tequila, but this is the flirt…sexy way.”

He squints his eyes at you.

“You ready?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Still holding his wrist, you proceed to lick his wrist.

With his free hand, Castiel removes the lime and asks, “If this were you doing this to a man or woman, what would you do?”

“Me?” You ask. “For a guy I wanted to sleep with, I’d just ask him if he wants to go back to my place for sex. Men tend to like directness, from my experience. Women, though, I’d flirt with and tease. I’d probably do what I’m doing right now and make sure I was the one with the lime, so we could make out instead of shooting tequila.”

“You haven’t tried flirting with men?” Castiel inquires.

“I have, but I get nervous for some reason. I’ve taught many friends how to successfully flirt, but for some reason I end up acting like a fish or stuttering when I try to flirt with me.” You roll your eyes and shrug. “It’s easier to be friends with people I like than it is to actually…pursue,” you quietly confess to Castiel.

Castiel tilts his head, keeping his eyes on you for nearly a minute in silence. The silence isn’t awkward, but calming and companionable.

It is one of your favorite things about Castiel, you think to yourself. You can just sit together and do different things, but still feel like you’re engaged and doing something together…or maybe that is just you.

And then, he asks a really weird question: “How do you like to be flirted with?”

You furrow your brow at the question, initially confused, but then you think about it. You look down as you think, then say the first thing that comes to mind when you’ve gone on really good dates. “Be interested in me and actually listen to what I’m telling you. Tell me about you, your past, your history, experiences that I might be able to relate to, about your family and friends, your aspirations…”

Castiel’s head tilts the other way as his blue eyes continue to watch you.

“Be accepting of me and my truths, my authenticity. I may have been born female, but I am very good at taking care of myself. I’m choosing to be here with you when I could be elsewhere. Be satisfied I’m here with you.”

“You are,” agrees Castiel. “And others. You care very deeply about your found family, as you call us.” He uses air quotes and slightly smiles. He leans forward, getting your eye to look into his. He is mere centimeters from your face. “I’m very happy you came out here with me tonight. It makes me very happy to spend time with you.”

“Thanks, Cas,” you give him a small smile, feeling your cheeks heat up. Your brow furrows again. “Cas, are you flirting with me?”

He looks down at his wrist. You follow his gaze and see that you’re still holding it, but resting on the table now. He gives a sheepish smile and nods looking at your hand.

Your heart races as adrenaline pumps through you at this disclosure. You take a deep breath and exhale. Then, you rotate and slide your hand into his. “Okay.”

He looks at you, confused. “What do you do when they realize they’re flirting back?” Worried, Cas’ blue eyes search your face.

You grin at him. “How bout we get outta here, just the two of us?”

It takes him a few extra seconds to connect the dots and nod. “Yes, okay.”

He scoots out of the booth and you follow him, keeping his hand in yours. You look around for the brothers who are sitting at the bar, chatting.

You both walk outside, looking up through the light pollution to see the moon and brilliant Venus close by.

“Where to?” He queries.

“Surprise me, Angel.”

He bends down and plucks a daffodil that has broken through the asphalt parking lot. Castiel hands it to you. “For you.”

You smile and take it, putting it behind your right ear.

#supernatural #did I already post this?#dean winchester #castiel #spn #sam winchester #reader #you #castiel/reader #Castiel/you #second pov #flirting #alcohol bar pub #reader insert #castiel x reader #Castiel x you #you insert #prompt #elle em bee

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justwhisperingfantasies · 25 days

Text

Memories Part 1

Characters: Dean Winchester x Female Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel. Mention of other SPN characters.

Warnings: near-death experience, language, angst (kind of), cute dean, fluff (kind of) not exactly cannon.

A/N: This is my first ever fic post. Please go easy on me. Hope you enjoy

Summary: You've had your memory wiped and sent off to your death. Sam, Dean, and Cas save you just before it is too late. the guys struggle with being strangers to you after all the years you have shared. You are forced into a life-altering dilemma.

Word count: 3,142 words

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This is it. This is how I die. You thought to yourself.

After all the hunts, all the monsters, all the bullshit.

You hear the door being kicked down as you think about everything you would have done differently.

"CAS! Get over there she needs you!"

You feel arms wrap around you and then lift you as you slip into the darkness.

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You wake in a panic on a strange bed. Sitting up to examine your wounds, but there's none to be found. What the hell?! I should be dead. Was it all a nightmare? It couldn't have been, It felt so real! Where the hell am I? You scan the room and notice there is a small writing desk in the far left corner. A sink with a mirror above in the far right corner. A door that was halfway open in the middle. Nothing fancy.

"(y/n)"

You turn your head in the direction of the voice. Your eyes find a man with dark messy hair, a lighthearted expression, and the bluest eyes you've ever seen.

"(y/n), Everything is alright. Don't freak out. My name is Castiel. I'm here to help. We are lucky we found you when we did."

"Umm.." just as you were about to blurt out every question that came to mind his cell phone started ringing. He gave you a soft smile and answered it.

"Dean..... Yes, she's alive... Yes, I healed them all….. She seems to be okay. Maybe a bit confused... Sitting in the spare bedroom looking at me like I have 3 heads..... Well, I haven't gotten a chance to explain everything.... okay, see you soon."

All these thoughts and questions are swirling in your head, but you've lost the ability to talk.

"Before we get into it, do you need anything? Thirsty? Hungry? Bathroom?" Castiel asked, putting his phone away.

You Shook your head no, still at a loss for words.

"Alright then, like I said. My name is Castiel. I'm an angel..."

You laugh out loud at the world angel. "You're an angel?! Like an angel of the lord?"

"Well yes, but exactly."

"You're an angel? And you came to save me?"

"Yes. As I was saying, we are here to help you."

"We?"

"My friends and I."

"Let me guess they are angels too." You say rolling your eyes. "Look, bud, I've seen some crazy shit in my life, but angels?!"

"With all the crazy shit you've seen in your life.." He mocked you. "Why are angels so hard to believe?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"One, I have no idea why this is so amusing to you. Two, if you are an angel of the Lord." You mocked him right back. "Then where is he? What kind of god would let there be so much evil and unnecessary death in the world?"

He chuckled "I didn't say he was a good person or that he even cares, but I know he does exist."

"Then he's not much of a god now, is he?" you were starting to get very annoyed. "okay, I believe you or whatever, can we just get to the point? Why am I here? How did I get here? Where is here? And how do I get home?"

"Well, I could have started explaining everything if I didn't get interrupted." He stated. You couldn't tell if he was being an ass or if he didn't banter well. You made the gesture of zipping your lips. You probably wouldn't believe anything this psycho said. but you might get another good laugh. "You see (y/n) we have met before. we had this same conversation already."

"Wha.."

"Ah, I thought you zipped it?" He teased smiling

RUN!! Your mind screamed at you but found yourself compelled to keep listening.

“Three months ago you were captured by the British men of letters,” The confusion must have shown on your face. “It's a hunting organization. They conducted a brainwash memory wipe experiment on you. Then forced you to work for them. We spent countless hours searching and trying to track you, but with your brains and their technology, it was impossible.”

You looked up to find guilt in his eyes. You quickly looked back down as you crossed your legs and started fidgeting with your hoodie sleeve.

“You started asking too many questions. They decided you weren't worth the risk. So they mind-wiped you once more, then sent you to your death.”

“The vampire nest,” you interrupted, an apologetic grin on your face.

“Yes. There weren't just 6 vampires living in that nest. There was about 20. You are an excellent hunter, but you couldn't handle 20 vamps that also had a heads up.”

“But how did you find me?”

“We got a call from one of them, he explained everything and gave us your GPS information.” He explained. “Do you remember anything before the vampire nest mission?”

“Sort of. I know that I had been working for them for a while, but I don't remember the group name or any of the individuals’ names. I didn't even question it. It's like I just knew I had a mission and it had to be completed. Seems pretty damn stupid now.” you confessed as you got on your feet and started pacing near the bed.

“y/n, you were brainwashed you can't blame yourself. They programmed you to listen not to question things.”

“Yeah, I guess. Still, I feel so stupid. But why me? Why am I so special? Why does an angel and his friends care so much? Why would a British hunting organization come for me?” you were a good hunter sure, but not the greatest.

He was just about to answer when the sound of a familiar voice made you stop in your tracks.

“CAS?!” You had heard it earlier just before you passed out.

“In Here” Castiel yelled back with a smile

You heard heavy boots rush down the hall.

You jumped at the door slamming against the wall as two brawny men bursts in. Relief washed over their faces the second they saw you.

The shorter of the two looked at Castiel for reassurance.

“Dean. She's alright, Just confused, and maybe a bit nervous.” He had noticed your telltales signs.

Dean looked back at you raising his eyebrows like he was waiting for your confirmation.

“Very confused, but physically I feel fine.”

He rushed over to you, and before you could react, you were in his embrace. You were resistant at first, but the feeling of his arms wrapped around you made you feel at peace. You inhaled deeply as the sandalwood, vanilla musk that had a hint of leather and gunpowder swirled around you. It's like you could feel the anxiety drain out of you. And you couldn't help but hug him back,

“I'm sorry," he said as he untightened his arms. “I'm just really glad that you’re okay.” a touch of pink on his cheeks as he stepped back a little.

“It's alright” you smiled at him. You were more mad that it ended rather than it happened, but there's no way you would admit it. “So Castiel, an angel of the lord. (you pointed at Cas) Dean is a strange guy who likes to hug. (you then pointed at Dean) And?.” you pointed at the towering man. You saw the hurt in their eyes even though they all tried to hide it with a smile.

‘I’m Sam.” he introduced himself. “The giant with great hair.” his smile got a little bigger.

“Gotcha” you giggled. Your laughter eased the tension in the air a little bit.

“You got to be hungry. Let's go find something to eat,” Sam said, gesturing to the door.

“I am starving. Lead the way, Bunyan.” your lips twisted into a teasing smile. This whole situation was so weird. You actually trusted these 3 strangers. Well, they did just save your life you argued inside your head. There was more to it than that. You could feel the love and care they had for you.

He chuckled as you guys walked out the door.

Dean walked over and shut the door. “Well, it's nice she still has her banter, huh,” he said, smiling.

“Yes. although it does hurt when she looks at you like a stranger…” Castiel's words stung, but Dean knew they were so freaking true.

“We are going to fix all that. I talked to Mick on the way over. He was getting on a plane. He said he would call when They landed. That was about an hour ago. So I guess we just hang out and get tortured until he gets here.”

“Sounds great,” Castiel said sarcastically. “Dean, I don't mean to be the “Debbie downer”, but with all the crazy she's been through do you think there's a chance she doesn't want it fixed?”

Dean shot Cas a bewildered glance.

“Think about it. If you got rid of all your bad memories and bullshit, would you want it Fixed?” The sadness showed in Dean's eyes. “I'm not trying to be an asshole. Just looking At the situation and all the options.” Castiel explained.

“Yes! I would fix it in a fucking heartbeat. I wouldn't trade my Good memories for anything.” Dean exclaimed. He couldn't help but feel hurt. He and (y/n) had some great memories. It would kill him if she chose never to get them back. “I'm gonna grab her some clean clothes. Betcha Sammie is gonna make her favorite,” he said walking towards the door.

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

You followed Sam into the hallway. It was brighter out here with a blueish tile halfway up the wall. The upper half was a painted white drywall. All the doorways were accented with a pretty white brick.

“What the heck is this place?” you have never seen anything like it.

“Did Castiel get to the men of letters?”

“Yeah, well, the British ones.”

“ Well, there was an American chapter too.”

“Was?”

“From What I read, back in 1958, some experiments they were doing went wrong and killed most of them The survivors were never seen again. This was their bunker. Dean and I are legacies Apparently.”

He led through a doorway that opened Into a big, beautiful library. Your eyes went wide. So many books, So much lore, and kick-ass swords on display.

“Yeah, you always did like this room .” He said with a smile.

“It's beautiful! I get to borrow all your books right? “

he chuckled, “I'm Pretty sure you've read most of them.

You laughed “Too bad I can't remember any of it.”

“Shit, I'm sorry. “ he said as he closed his eyes and shook his head

“Don't worry about it, big guy. I'm just giving you shit.”

He started walking in the direction of another doorway.

“So I was thinking of making your favorite, but I can make something quicker. I'm sure Dean and Cas wouldn't mind going out even if that's what you want.”

“I can…”

“You can let me make you something.” he cut you off in a teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes “ Fine, Just whatever is easier for you. Although it would be easier if we just went out.” You had a tough time with letting people take care of you.

You have a look around the kitchen. It was nice, very spacious. A bit dull compared to the library though. No cabinets, they had a decent-sized island with shelves under it. A baker's rack on the far side. They had a walk-in pantry and tons of fridge space. Okay, this kitchen was pretty badass you admit to yourself. The best part was the coffee machine. A Bella Pro Series Combo. It Makes a pot of coffee on one side and espresso drinks on the other. You always took coffee seriously, but you would never have thought that these guys would.

“Do you mind if make a cup?” you asked as you walked up to the machine.

He smiled. “Should have known. Have at it, But just a heads up you will probably be making more than one.”

“Eh, I'm okay with that. Do you want one?”

“Oh my God, yes!!”

His reaction made you chuckle “I wouldn't peg you guys as serious coffee people.”

“We aren't really. Dean bought that for you a couple of years ago. He said he got tired of you complaining about the old one.” He smiled. “Dean and Cas are probably gonna want one too. It's been a while since we had your coffee.”

You look up to see Dean walking in. You make eye contact and he grins from ear to ear. His bright green eyes filled with love. Your knees go weak and you can't help but mirror his smile.

“Hey, bab…. err (y/n) I got you some clothes so you can clean up,” he said still smiling. You traded him the clothes for his coffee. Which he immediately put to his lips and sipped. “Mmmm. God I missed this.”

“So (y/n) how does (your favorite food) sound?” Sam asked. You didn't want to burden him but he just seemed so excited to make it for you.

“That sounds amazing.” You smiled

“Dean can show you around and I'll get started.” He said pulling food out of the fridge.

You turned to Dean. He pointed at the extra coffee sitting on the counter “Cas.? You nodded. He picked it up then nudged his head toward the doorway and started walking. You followed.

“How ya feelin?” He asked as you guys walked into the library.

“ I told you I'm feeling Fine. Nothing hurts, no holes.”

You guys walked over to Castiel. He was sitting at the first of two long wooden tables. He had a laptop in front of him and books open on both sides.

“Here bud.” Dean handed the coffee over.

Castiel looked up from the book in his hands. His eyes flashed to you then back to Dean. Dean smiled and nodded his head.

The excitement showed on Castile's face. “Thank you!!” you grinned.

Dean started walking again. You followed him into the next room. There was an open staircase on the opposite side and a huge table in the middle. As you pass the table you notice the top is a screen-like world map. He noticed you looking at it. “Sam seems to think it's some kind of radar. We can't figure out how to get the damn thing on though.” you nod as he leads you up the stairs.

“Well I'm glad Cas got you healed up, but I wasn’t asking about your physical state. You almost died, had everything healed, met an angel, and were told that you have a past life you can't remember. On top of that, you have two creepy guys smiling at you and telling you they're so glad you're back.”

“Eh, another day in the life.” you joked trying to avoid your emotions.

He could read through your bullshit. “ Seriously, I know I'm a stranger in your mind, but I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. All of it.” you gave him a half smile.

Topping the stairs he pointed to a door. “And here you will find an exit on your right” he gave you his best flight attendant voice. Of course, you laugh. How could you not? He was so adorable.

He turned around still pointing “Down there's the uh dungeon slash storage.” he turned back and started walking “Our room is this way.”

“Our room?!” you raised your eyebrows

His body stiffened a little “ roomsss. I said our rooms.”

“Oh. my bad.”

You continue down the hallway. “Here is the infirmary. We mainly use it for storage. You walk a little ways more. “Sammy's room” he was sorta distant now. Was he really that offended that you misheard him? Right after Sam's room, there's a doorway. “ At the end of the hall, there's a stairwell” Little ways more. “This is my room.” he clenched his jaw after he said it. The hall continues but there's also a hallway on the right. He pointed down the hall you are in “man cave, another bedroom.”

“Man cave, No girls allowed?”

“Ehh usually not, but I guess you're cool enough” Finally some of the tension eased. And he turned down the other hall. There was a door on the left. “This one is yours”.

You walk up to the door and hesitantly open it. As you turn the light on your jaw drops. It's a totally different vibe than the rest of the bunker. the floor was a wooden panel. The walls a soft white with a clock on one and art on the other, a King-size bed in the middle that had white bedding with navy blue sheets and accent pillows. There were two nightstands on each side. A navy blue dresser sat on the same wall as the door with picture frames all along the top of it. You walked over to look at them. You picked one up, it was a young couple holding a newborn baby in the hospital. You didn't recognize them.

“That's your folks and you.” Dean was watching you while leaning on the doorframe

“They look happy” You picked up the next one a young couple standing with arms around each other, next to a black car. It kinda looked like you and Dean. You looked up at him asking the question with your eyes.

“Yeah, that's us when we were 17,” he reassured you as he walked over “and this is us about 2 years ago.” he pointed to a picture of him kissing you on the cheek. He pointed at another. “This one is right after you. me. and Sam finished our first hunt together. We were 22. Sam was 18.” you were in the middle of them, blood splatters all over the 3 of you. You blinked back tears. “I took this one not too long ago.” it was of you and Cas making silly faces. He pointed to one of you and an older man. “This is Bobby Singer. He was a great man. Kinda a father figure to all of us.” the last one was a group shot. Cas, Sam, Dean, (with his arm around you) Bobby the man Dean just told you about, but he was in a wheelchair, and two blondes you did recognize. You pointed at the older blonde woman and looked up at Dean. “That's Ellen, she was like your crazy cool aunt, and Jo (he pointed at the younger one.) was like your little sister.” A tear had managed its way down your cheek. Dean wiped it away. “It's gonna be ok. We have a way to fix your memory if that's what you want.”

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#dean winchester #dean fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fanfiction #dean x you #supernatural #spn reader insert #fluff and angst #fanfiction #supernatural fic #spn #sam winchester #team free will #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #castiel #dean winchester spn #supernatural dean

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