#crowley reads and pretends he doesn't

[feralbutfluffy]

Crowley and Poetry

In the book, Crowley says G.K. Chesterton is "the only poet in the twentieth century to even come close to the Truth."

Take a look at these Chesterton quotes:

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

“The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.”

“To have a right to do a thing is not at all the same as to be right in doing it.”

“Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel.”

“A man does not know what he is saying until he knows what he is not saying.”

[tenok]

.

[wordsinhaled]

feeling something about... crowley at the beginning of season 2 telling aziraphale "you're on your own with this one." and then crowley at the end of the season, leaning into aziraphale like it's their secret and saying, "i won't leave you on your own."

it's in how he says "i mean, in the last few years, not really" about how they haven't had to pretend not to be each other's anymore and it's just so clear how all this time, all this fucking time since the apocalypse-that-wasn't he's been treating aziraphale without any more of that pretense. instead he treats him with this terribly soft tenderness, this long-suffering fondness, with the protectiveness that comes of someone being fundamentally yours to protect in the first place and you being theirs in return. this sort of foregone conclusion of a commitment that lets everyone know he's completely aziraphale's and he's got eyes and attention for no one else

it's in how he not only humors aziraphale's magic act but also gives him a genuine lovely pep talk like a supportive partner. it's in how he walks into the magic shop trailing after him and watches aziraphale get excited over the magic tricks with that sort of air of someone watching their partner deeply enjoy a thing - it's just got this, this energy to it, it's in his body language, like, yes, he's here with me and i'm here with him and we're going to leave together as well. it's in the way he tells aziraphale "you read too many books," all soft and indulgent and you know he's thinking he wouldn't want aziraphale any other way

it's in the way he got dressed flashy to go to the pub and he ordered aziraphale's drink for him and brought it back to their little table; and it's in the way he changed into a collared shirt for aziraphale's event. it's in the way he tosses aziraphale's books around while he's minding the shop for him but will never sell a single one in his absence and it's in how he tidies up the shop back to just how aziraphale likes it after the ball. it's in the vulnerability of not wearing his glasses any longer when he and aziraphale are alone together and how he tosses them aside like they're just another thing separating them, for almost the entire season

it's in how he says they're a "group of the two of us" but he sees them as a couple, and he acts like it too. like. he doesn't think he needs to talk, he doesn't need to say it, it's all there in every. single. thing. he does. it's in the lovelorn soppy glances he gives aziraphale across their table and the voice he's got reserved just for aziraphale and it's like, genuinely it's unhinged how much he loves, loves, loves him

[pomefioredove]

Omg hiii! I saw that your requests were open again! Please take your time and prioritize your rest, and as always your writing is such a delight to read! I always look forward to your posts! 💖💖💖

That being said, can you please write for a Yuu/reader that has a love for painting (but is shy about showcasing their skill) , and was absolutely taken by Vil's beauty even before they met him? Of course they didn't know that he was a famous actor at first. What if Vil one day finds their sketches and paintings of him after months of knowing him? (hmm preferably after the events of book 6..? 👀)

SO CUTE!!! kicking my legs back and forth at this anonnn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the picture of vil schoenheit

type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

How were you supposed to know?

It's not like Crowley had given you a guide on Night Raven College or its students (though, wouldn't that have been nice?)

I mean, you had to reminded of Trey's last name not two weeks ago. How were you supposed to know who Vil Schoenheit is?

You'd only seem him at a distance. Passed him by in the halls while he scolded some poor first year. He even looked beautiful when he was angry.

He was just made to be painted.

You didn't show your friends the art. You didn't need to give Ace another reason to tease you, and being a stalker would've really been the cherry on top of your weirdness sundae.

Besides, it was just drawing. Practice! Sketches from a distance, doodles done in the margins of your notes, watercolors and paintings from memory...

It felt familiar. This man, this stranger, someone you hadn't even spoken to, made you feel a little closer to home.

.

"Really, you should have some sort of organizational system,"

Vil leafs through pages of alchemy reports and history of magic homework. "Might I suggest a recycling bin?"

You smile. It's not often that your friend- Vil Schoenheit, that is- has a day off. But today is Saturday, and your room is in desperate need of his touch.

"This is... chaotic," he says, brushing a clump of Grim fur off his shoulder. "And you live like this?"

You shrug. "I try,"

"Well, try no more. We'll have this done before dinner,"

His commitment is touching. Millions of screeching fangirls would give anything just to spend five minutes with Vil, and here he is, tidying your room for you.

It's almost cute. He's humming to himself, hair tied back in a ponytail, in one of your shirts (his are too nice to get dirty), sweeping Grim fur out from under your bed.

"Rook and Epel couldn't make it?" you ask, pretending not to care that it's just the two of you.

"I told them not to bother,"

"Oh?"

Vil tsks. "They would get in the way. We're much more efficient on our own- we work well together, after all,"

That's something he'd said before. You'd always wondered what it meant.

"Right,"

You switch places, going to strip your bed of its sheets for washing while Vil tidies your desk.

Off go the pillow cases, the comforter, the blankets. You're wrestling with your mattress when you notice that he hasn't moved in a while.

He's looking through some of the papers from within the bowels of your desk, smiling to himself, a finger held to his perfect lips.

"What?"

"Hm?" he hums, but he doesn't look at you. "Oh, just... admiring your work. You have quite an eye for detail, have I ever told you that?"

He's being weird. You let go of your bundle of bedding and look at what he's holding, but it's just your sketchbook.

Oh. Oh, no. It's your sketchbook.

"OH! Um, wait-" you say, rushing to his side. "Don't- don't look!"

Vil smirks, and he holds the art over your head. "How unfair. The muse should always be the first to see, you know,"

Damn his height and perfect, slender arms!!! Your eyes widen. "It's not what it looks like! I didn't know you when I did those!"

"Yes, I saw the dates. You could make a career out of admiring me, you know~" he chuckles. "I'd pay for these. I'm sure Rook would like a few, as well."

You're practically melting with embarrassment. "Come on- give it back!"

Seeing your pathetic, embarrassed whining, Vil relents, handing you the sketchbook with an eye-roll.

"What are you ashamed of? They're fine pieces,"

"It's not that," you clutch the book to your chest. "It's just- uh- weird, isn't it?"

Vil scoffs. "I'm weird?"

"NO! I meant- I didn't even know you, and I drew you almost every day- that isn't... strange?"

He takes a moment to study you, your body language, the embarrassed look on your face. From head to toe. And then he smiles, warmly.

"I am in a dorm with Rook. There are very, very few things that I find strange now. You admire me- I'm flattered,"

He gingerly takes sketchbook out of your arms and opens it again. "Not to mention, you have an artistic eye that any director would kill for."

You stand there, a little dumbfounded, but mostly very, very grateful that he's your friend, and that you can laugh about this together.

"I'm... well... thank you," you finally say.

Vil smirks, and pinches your cheek. "You're precious. Now, back to work. I want this room over with. These paintings won't frame themselves, will they?"

[fatecantstopme]

Hello! How are you today? I hope you are doing well today! I have read your stories well mostly of Dean and I fall in love with them! Your stories are just French kisses!! I was wondering if you are okay the the idea or available in Season 10 ep 1-3 Dean is the knight of hell but instead of Sam who found him, it has his wife or fiance reader? He doesn't harm her at all but all he wants to do is trap her and rail her all long day and night he willingly goes with her to the bunker. Something like that, I'm very sorry if it's accurate could it but smut and fluff if it's okay with you? If not that okie! Don't worry! I love your stories and Keep up on doing what you do best! Thank you and have a wonderful day!!

OMG STAHHHP. You're so sweet. I'm glad you like my writing--I love doing it! AND I LOVE THIS ASK SO FREAKING MUCH. I love you for giving me the opportunity to write Dean in the most dominating, degrading, aggressive way possible without feeling bad for making him like that. I love my soft!dom Dean...but I am so freaking into this...HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

Fiend

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: I mean...just read the lovely anon's request. So gooooood.

Warnings: An unnecessary amount of SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), choking, slight degradation, rough sex, oral (M & F receiving), face sitting, orgasm denial, Dean is very dominant. Cursing, canon violence, Mark of Cain bloodlust, use of pet names, slight domestic violence.

A/N: I 100% went overboard on this one and I have no regrets. Fair warning, it's insanely long. It doesn't follow the season 10 storyline perfectly, but we've got the core elements.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked softly.

Sam stared at you, a familiar dark expression on his face. "Do you want to find him or not?"

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly. Of course you did, but you didn't want to lose who you were along the way. "You know I do, but torture's not exactly my thing."

"It's a demon."

"Wearing an innocent woman."

"Fine. You stay out here, then."

You watched Sam enter the dungeon, clearly prepared to do whatever it took to find his brother. The first scream echoed through the hallway and straight into your chest like a knife. You couldn't stay there--didn't wanna hear what happened next.

You went as far away as you could, walking past the bedroom you hadn't entered since the night he'd died. Sam had been the one to discover he was gone--Sam had been the one who found his note. You'd cried yourself to sleep on the couch in the library, heart too broken to even move.

The next morning, you woke to Sam's shouts of your name, but nothing would prepare you for what happened next. Sam's frightened eyes met yours and all he said was "He's gone," before handing you a note.

It was Dean's handwriting. You were sure of it. All it said was "(Y/N), Sammy, let me go."

That was six weeks ago.

Simple as the request was, it wasn't something either you or Sam could do, nor could Castiel. The three of you loved that man too much to just let him go.

At this point, all you knew was Dean was gone and Crowley was with him. Dean's handwriting on the note was the only indicator he wasn't dead...but you'd watched him die. You'd held him in your arms. The only possible answer was that Crowley had gotten a demon to possess Dean's body and rode off into the sunset with him. What you didn't know was why.

**********

Torturing the demon hadn't exactly proven fruitful, but Sam did manage to find a case he thought was connected to Dean. He was convinced the death of a man named Drew Neely was related to demons--and possibly to the missing Winchester.

While it seemed like quite a stretch to you, you were willing to go with him to Wisconsin and find out what happened.

As per usual, you and Sam pretended to be FBI to get inside information on the investigation. Much to your surprise, when the local PD showed you and Sam security footage from the gas station where Drew Neely was murdered, you saw a very familiar face.

You'd know him anywhere--Dean Winchester, seemingly alive and well, being attacked by Drew Neely. You watched as Dean pulled the First Blade from inside his jacket and stabbed Neely repeatedly. As the other man died violently, you watched in horror as Dean's normally beautiful green eyes turned black as night.

You looked up at Sam, whose expression matched your own. It looked like Sam's suspicions were correct--Dean was in fact possessed by a demon. Your only thought was saving him, even though you knew you'd really only be saving his body. You'd be damned if you let some demon scum ride around in Dean's body forever.

When you left the station, Sam turned to you, eyes full of a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Wanna go to the gas station? See if there's anything there?"

You nodded, still a little too upset to do much talking. Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. He knew full-well how difficult this whole thing was for you. This wasn't Sam's first experience with his brother's death, but it was a first for you. He could tell the loss was killing you slowly, especially with Dean's body being defiled by some demon asshole.

When you arrived at the gas station, you were both surprised when the clerk handed you Neely's phone. You wondered why he hadn't given it over to the police, but at the moment, you couldn't be bothered to care. You wanted answers and this phone might be the key.

"There's a text from a number not saved in the contacts," Sam said as he scrolled through the phone's contents.

You leaned forward to look at the screen. "An Abbadon loyalist," you mumbled. "Lovely. But who the hell told Neely Dean was even here?"

Sam shrugged as he pressed the call button, dialing the number on the screen. "Only one way to find out."

When the voice on the other end of the phone answered, the rage that had been simmering inside of you for 6 weeks finally overflowed. "Crowley, you son of a bitch!" you yelled.

The chuckle on the other end did nothing to ease your anger. "Well hello (Y/N). I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Can I assume your avenging Moose is there too?"

You were about to tear into Crowley, but Sam placed a firm hand on your shoulder and shook his head. You clamped your mouth shut so tightly your jaw began to ache.

"Where the hell is my brother, you son of a bitch?"

"Maybe if you were nicer to me, I'd help you."

"Why don't you just start by telling us why you sent an Abbadon loyalist after Dean in the first place?" you growled.

"How else was I supposed to keep the bloodlust at bay? The Mark wants what the Mark wants."

You inhaled sharply, the ache in your chest intensifying at his words. Even in death, the damn Mark of Cain was still torturing Dean.

"Where are you?" Sam tried again.

"Oh please, Samuel, as if I'm going to tell you. Your brother and I are having a grand ol' time together. I quite like this version of him. I'm sure you and (Y/N) are jealous over our new relationship, but I simply can't be bothered to care."

"If Dean wasn't possessed, there's no way he'd be with you," you seethed.

Crowley's laughter echoed through the phone, sending cold shivers down your back. "You think he's possessed? That's not how the Mark works, sweetheart."

The condescension in his tone made you want to crawl through the phone and rip his throat out, but you managed to bite your tongue.

"The Mark twists the soul--darkening it with each kill--until all that remains is darkness," Crowley gloated. "So you see, Dean isn't possessed by a demon, he is one. Not just any demon either—a knight of hell."

You took a step back, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous. Out of all the scenarios that had run through your mind when Dean went missing, this wasn't one of them. There was no worse way to dishonor his memory--his legacy--than this.

You vaguely heard Sam yelling into the phone, but your mind was spinning too quickly for you to comprehend a single word. Your entire world had just been tipped on its head and you weren't sure how to find solid ground again.

You doubled over, breath coming out in painful heaves. Bile rose in the back of your throat and you found yourself hurling the limited amount of food you'd eaten all over the sidewalk.

You felt Sam's strong, comforting hand on your back as he tried to calm you. After several more dry heaves, you managed to stand back up, eyes bloodshot from the exertion.

Sam's gaze was gentle, but you could see the pain in his eyes. As much as you loved Dean, you knew Sam loved him just as much. You couldn't afford to break down now--not when the two people you loved most in this world needed you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"No need to apologize, (Y/N/N). This is a lot to take in."

You simply nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

"I think I know how to find them."

Your head snapped up, meeting Sam's gaze with hope for the first time in weeks. "How?"

"I think I can track Crowley's phone."

You shot Sam a weak grin. "Thank god you're a genius. Let's go."

Before heading to Crowley's last known location, you and Sam discussed your findings thus far. You now knew Dean wasn't technically dead--which meant there was a slight chance you could use the ritual you'd tried on Crowley over a year ago.

There was a chance you could make Dean human again--and it was a risk you were more than willing to make. Knowing Dean was still in there--still alive--made you more reckless than you'd ever been. You were determined to bring him home, no matter the cost.

**********

You and Sam decided to split up, determining you had more of a shot at bringing Dean home that way. Sam went one route and you went the other, stealing a car to make your journey.

You didn’t realize it, but this decision would result in a cascade of events that would put you right in the crosshairs of the demon your husband had become—alone.

As you sped along the dark highway towards the Black Spur, you were left with nothing to do but listen to the thoughts swirling around your mind. Without Sam there to keep you occupied, your inner turmoil had begun to rear its ugly head.

Out of all the things you’d expected to happen when Dean died, becoming a demon had not been among them. Being possessed was one thing—being a demon was another thing entirely.

You knew exactly how Dean would feel about it, if he’d actually had the ability to feel, and it broke your heart. He was the strongest man you’d ever known, but this would break him. Even worse, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what you would feel when you found him.

You loved Dean Winchester with every part of your soul. He was your best friend, your lover, your partner, your husband. He was the man who never failed to make you laugh or bring a smile to your face. He held you when you cried, took care of you when you were hurt, and made love to you like you were the only thing tethering him to earth. But you knew that man was gone—all that remained was the beautiful body that once held the most incredible soul you’d ever known.

You felt the tears well up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t fix things and you’d done more than enough of that in the last month. Instead, you focused on what you were going to do when you found Dean.

You had no idea how you were going to convince him to come back to the bunker with you. You weren’t even sure he wouldn’t kill you if you tried to force him. You’d come prepared, but you would die before killing him. End of the day, he was Dean—somewhere inside him was the man you loved.

Part of you hoped Sammy would get there first—that he’d be the one to find Dean. Then he’d be faced with the decision of what to do next, sparing you the pain. You knew that wasn’t fair, but if you were being honest, you didn’t trust yourself to do this alone. One single look at his face could very well be your undoing.

You sighed quietly and glanced at your GPS. Only a couple hours to go before you would find out for yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam had managed to get himself kidnapped when his car broke down on the way to the Black Spur, which meant he most definitely would not be beating you there. Unfortunately for you, that meant confronting Dean would be entirely on your shoulders--a weight you certainly didn't wish to carry.

**********

A few hours later, you arrived at the Black Spur, unsurprised and maybe a bit relieved to see that Dean was no longer there. You talked to the bouncer Dean had beat the shit out of the night before, so you knew you weren't very far behind him.

What you didn't know was Crowley and Dean had a rather intense falling out due to Dean's ever-growing aggressive behavior and complete and utter lack of respect for Crowley.

After leaving the Black Spur, you decided to stop at a motel, get some sleep, and wait for Sam. You'd tried calling him to no avail and you were starting to worry, but you knew Sam could take care of himself.

You'd just managed to fall asleep when your phone rang. It was Sam.

"Everything alright?" you asked.

"Got kidnapped by some guy named Cole."

"Sorry, what?"

"Apparently Dean killed his dad when he was a teenager and now he wants revenge. He kidnapped me hoping I would tell him where Dean was. He admitted he was trying to get us both, but he hadn't expected us to split up."

"Great. Just what we need. Some random human hunting the best hunter-turned-demon in history."

Sam sighed his agreement. "Cole called Dean...and he actually answered."

"What?!"

"Told him he'd kill me if Dean didn't give himself up."

You paused for a moment, breath caught in your chest. "And?"

"He refused. Told Cole he'd given me explicit instructions to let him go--and it was my fault for not listening to him," Sam said with a huff. "Then he told Cole if he killed me, he'd hunt him down and kill him."

You chuckled dryly. "That actually sounds like Dean."

Sam chuckled softly with you. "Yeah...it does."

You could hear the sorrow in his voice and you knew it matched your own. Seeing even the slightest sliver of your Dean in this demon version was beyond painful.

"I managed to get away while he was distracted. I'm on my way to the Black Spur now," Sam said after a few moments.

"He's not here. I've looked."

You could almost hear Sam's chest deflate as the hope left him. "Any sign of where they might've gone next?"

"No," you answered softly. "And Crowley turned his damn phone off."

Sam sighed heavily. "We'll find him, (Y/N)."

You wanted to believe him--wanted to have that kind of faith, but you'd lost steam. There wasn't a trail to follow, and even if there was, you weren't sure you should follow it. Dean had left Sam to die all because he'd ignored Dean's instructions. What would he do to you if you found him?

You ignored the tightening in your chest, pushing down your emotions as deeply as you could before wrapping up your call. You told Sam what motel you were in and that you'd see him in a couple hours.

You'd just laid back down when there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and slipped an angel blade into the waistband of your pants before moving towards the door. When you looked through the peephole, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull.

You ripped open the door with surprising force, angel blade pointing at the visitor's throat.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing," Crowley grumbled.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Because I know where your husband is."

Your expression softened slightly, but the blade remained pressed to his neck. "Are you going to tell me or do I need to beat it out of you."

Crowley laughed mirthlessly. "Oh please, (Y/N). We all know you aren't capable of torture."

He was right, of course, but you would never admit it. Instead, you narrowed your eyes and pressed the blade a little more firmly into his skin.

The demon winced and threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine! I'll tell you. Just put that thing down."

You remained still for a moment before stepping back and allowing him entry into your room. You closed the door behind him, keeping the blade securely in your hand. "Talk."

"It's more that I know how to find him and less that I know where he is."

You clenched your jaw, feeling the simmering rage begin to boil. "This entire thing is your fault, Crowley, so if you want to stay alive, I suggest you speak plainly."

"We're not exactly on good terms at the moment."

Your eyes scanned his face and a small smirk appeared on yours. "He get tired of you?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "We had a disagreement over how to handle his bloodlust. Plus, he's even more arrogant than he was as a human."

Your heart clenched at the word 'bloodlust'. You'd hoped it had subsided in his death, but that damn Mark wouldn't quit until it took every last vestige of humanity left in Dean.

"Fine, so he left your ass in the dust. How do you plan to find him?"

"I have several demons watching his every move. I can't have him making too much of a mess. His type of chaos is bad for business."

"Then make a call and tell me where he is."

"Happily," Crowley paused. "On one condition."

"There it is," you grumbled.

"It's a simple request, really. All I want in return is the First Blade."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons, and I'm quite certain you don't want it in Dean's hands."

You thought about it for a few moments. "If you screw me over, I will burn your sordid kingdom to the ground around you before killing you in the most painful way possible."

Crowley almost seemed impressed. "I think you've spent a little too much time with Dean."

"Not nearly enough," you mumbled under your breath. "Do we have an understanding?"

"I tell you where to find Dean, you give me the Blade."

"You take me to Dean, I give you the Blade," you countered.

A look of fear flashed across his face. "I'd really rather not."

"I don't give a damn. You made this mess, so you're gonna help us out of it."

Crowley sighed. "Fine."

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand, but Crowley interrupted you before you could dial.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Sam."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why the hell not?"

"You will have better luck persuading Dean than Sam will. You've never once betrayed Dean--never let him down. Sam cannot say the same. As such, it's likely Dean will be more likely to have a soft spot for you, even now."

You contemplated his words for several moments, before shaking your head. "Sam's his brother. He needs to know."

Crowley snapped his fingers, sending your phone flying across the room and into the wall with shocking speed, shattering it instantly.

"You son of a bitch!"

"You want my help? We go alone. Sam can catch up."

You glared at him in annoyance, before sighing quietly. "Fine. But I'm driving."

**********

"A piano bar?" you asked in surprise as you parked across the street.

"That's what they said."

Your eyes scanned the street before landing on a familiar black Chevy Impala. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing you were about to come face to face with your worst nightmare.

Crowley's gaze followed yours and he hummed quietly. "As I said, he's here."

"Get out," you hissed. "You're coming in too."

"Pardon?"

"Do you want the Blade, Crowley? Then get out of the damn car."

He huffed, but did as you said. You gestured for him to walk ahead of you, effectively blocking you from sight from the inside of the bar.

The moment Crowley entered, Dean felt his presence. "Didn't expect you to come back," he stated as he sipped some whiskey.

Hearing his voice sent a wave of emotion through your body, having not heard it in weeks.

Dean seemed to realize Crowley wasn't alone and you heard him inhale deeply. "I'd know that scent anywhere." He finally turned around to face the two of you. "(Y/N)."

"Hello Dean," you said softly, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. The idea he could smell you from several feet away was both a reminder of who he'd become, and an uncomfortable turn-on.

Dean glared at Crowley, realizing he had given his location up. Before he could say anything to him, you stepped forward, causing Dean's gaze to snap back to you.

"I suggest you run before I rip your heart out and feed it to you," you growled under your breath, not sparing another look in Crowley’s direction.

Crowley immediately stepped back, exiting the bar as quickly as possible.

"I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to work with Crowley," Dean said lowly.

"Means to an end."

"Hmm." He took a long drink of his whiskey before placing the empty glass on the counter. "I'm surprised you're here alone."

"Glad you asked--Sam's fine. No thanks to you."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he stood up, taking a step towards you. "I gave both of you very explicit instructions to let me go. What happens to you when you disobey is not my fault."

You inhaled sharply, body reacting to his words without approval from your brain. You clenched your jaw, trying to appear calmer than you felt.

Dean had always been extremely perceptive, and his demon abilities only heightened it. He took another predatory step towards you. "I can see your turmoil, sweetheart--you want me and you hate yourself for it."

You scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself--you're not Dean."

He laughed and the sound sent chills down your spine. "That's where you're wrong--I'm 100% Dean, just the new and improved version."

You felt a pang in your chest. "I'll have to disagree on the 'improved' part."

Dean started to slowly circle you, like a predator hunting his prey. "Aren't you the least bit curious, (Y/N)?" Each ring brought him closer and closer to you, until you could feel his body heat enveloping you. "Don't you want to know about all the things I can do now? All the ways I can wreck that pretty little body of yours?"

You felt his breath on the back of your neck--and you were embarrassed when your lips parted and your own breathing sped up.

"I can hear your heart racing, sweetheart." The pet name dripped with condescension--his voice low and gruff, barely above a growl. You felt a wave of arousal rush to your core, thighs rubbing together on instinct.

The movement didn't go unnoticed by Dean, who let out a dark chuckle. His lips brushed against your ear as he inhaled deeply. "I can smell how badly you want me, (Y/N)."

His hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you back so you were flush against his front. You felt his hard length pressing into you through his jeans, a soft needy sound escaping your lips.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed. He might be wearing your husband's face, but he was a demon for christ's sake! You should be as far from turned on as humanly possible.

He came to a stop in front of you, close enough to touch you, but far enough to allow you some clarity. "I imagine you came here to talk me into coming home?"

You didn't bother to reply, it was obvious he could read you as well as he did as a human.

"If I'd wanted to be human again, I wouldn't have left. I'm as familiar with the cure as you are, sweetheart--and it's not worth it to me. I like who I am--I like being a demon. All that baggage I carried as a human? It's gone--I've never felt more free, (Y/N), and I'm not giving that up."

Much to Dean's surprise, your expression morphed into quiet understanding, eyes softening as you watched him closely. He felt uncomfortable under your gaze, so he flashed his eyes black in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

You winced slightly, hating seeing those demon eyes obscuring the brilliant green you loved so much. Your expression, however, remained soft. "Your life wasn't easy," you murmured gently. "There was a lot of heartbreak, pain, and loss...not to mention the weight of the entire world on your shoulders for most of your adult life. I can understand why you'd prefer this...you no longer have to give a damn."

Dean wanted to be annoyed--he wanted to be angry, his need for control surging inside him. Instead, he found himself stepping closer to you again--drawn to your soft eyes and sweet expression. Somewhere deep inside, emotions began to stir.

What had once been a deep, unending love for you, had turned to a lust so powerful, it threatened to devour you both. His eyes turned back to green, but the irises were barely visible around his widened pupils. His gaze was hungry, the predatory look having returned with a vengeance.

"How 'bout we go back to my room?" he purred lowly.

You knew you should say no--you shouldn't go anywhere alone with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to deny him.

"Are you afraid of me, (Y/N)?"

"You're a knight of hell," you whispered. "I'd have to be a fool not to be."

He smirked coldly. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you, sweetheart?"

Despite the darkness within him--despite what he had become--you believed in your heart he would never hurt you.

"No," you murmured honestly.

His smirk widened, rough fingers reaching out to grip your jaw tightly. "Oh I will hurt you, baby--but only in the ways you like."

You inhaled sharply, a wave of arousal dampening your panties even further. Your lips parted slightly, eyes never leaving his.

"You're coming with me," he growled possessively, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he dragged you to the door.

He pulled you roughly out onto the sidewalk and practically dragged you to the Impala, pulling the door open and shoving you into the passenger seat.

His aggression was a turn-on, none of his actions thus far having hurt you. You were certain you'd have bruising on your wrist from where he grabbed you, but you were completely fine with it.

He drove in silence at a speed that sent little waves of terror through you. The hotel he was staying at wasn't far, but he still made it there in record time. It was a much nicer place than the ones you usually stayed in, but you weren't surprised that Dean's tastes had become a little more bougie.

He dragged you into the elevator, pulling your back flush against his chest, hands gripping your upper arms like iron vices. You squirmed slightly and he let out a low growl, grip tightening.

"You move like that again and I'm gonna fuck you in this damn elevator," he hissed.

Part of you was into it, but you also didn't want to get caught fucking your demon husband in a public elevator. So you remained as still as possible until the doors opened on his floor and he pulled you down the hall to his room.

Once inside, Dean slammed the door with force, pinning you up against it so your cheek was pressed into it. His body was molded up against yours and his hot breath fanned across your neck. You felt his teeth scrape your pulse point, earning a low moan from you.

"You have one chance to get out of this," he growled. "One chance to say no and walk away before I fucking devour you."

If you'd had any sense, you would have ran away and never looked back, but you were already too far gone. He might not be the Dean you married, but he was still Dean--just the much darker, much wilder version.

"Fuck me, Dean," you begged softly.

He groaned lowly. "Oh I'm gonna do so much more than that sweetheart."

He ground his bulge into your back and bit into the soft flesh in the crook of your neck, causing you to whimper slightly.

"Wanna know the best part about being a demon?" he purred in your ear as he tugged your head back by your hair so he could see your eyes.

You nodded your head as best you could and waited for him to continue.

"I can have multiple orgasms and I've got the stamina of a god," he murmured. "I can fuck you all night long if I want to--and damnit I want to."

He spun you around quickly, slamming you against the wall beside the door. His lips were on yours immediately, tongue invading your mouth before you could even process what was happening.

You whimpered softly as his lips left yours and he began to kiss and nip his way across your jaw, down your throat, and to your collarbone. He wasn't being gentle, but you still found yourself wanting more--needing more.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, unused to the longer locks. It gave you more to grab, giving you a firmer grip on his head--and you loved it. If the groan that left Dean's mouth was any indication, he loved it too.

You felt his hands grasping at the front of your shirt before ripping it right in half. You yelped in surprise, but he ignored you, instead grabbing the edges of your bra and tugging them down to reveal your breasts.

"Oh, I missed these," Dean murmured before leaning back down to pull your nipple into his mouth. He used both hands to massage your breasts harshly, fingertips pinching at your exposed nipple while he nipped and sucked on the other.

You were panting heavily--almost to an embarrassing degree given how little this man had actually done to you. You found yourself falling into a familiar role with him, though he was much rougher than you were accustomed to.

When he switched to suck on your other breast, he slipped one hand down your stomach to the top of your jeans. He unfastened them easily before sliding his hand into them to cup your very wet pussy.

You felt Dean's smirk against your breast a moment before he lifted his head to look at your face. "Your panties are soaked," he groaned. "How long have you been thinking about me fucking you senseless?"

Your eyes weren't entirely focused on him and you didn't respond right away, so he grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You respond when I ask you a question."

You gasped softly before whimpering out an answer, "Since I saw you in the bar."

He gave you a look clearly indicating his disbelief. "Really?" His fingers pressed more firmly against your pussy, brushing against your clit purposefully. He ignored your soft moan, but you saw the smirk in his eyes. "You didn't imagine me fucking you while you played with your pretty pussy? Don't lie to me, sweetheart, I know you can't go almost 2 months without an orgasm."

You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your honest response.

His eyes flashed black and your heart leapt into your throat, a surge of fear sweeping through you. "Don't be a brat, (Y/N)," he growled. "You know what will happen."

Under normal circumstances, you'd play into the bratty role--it always got Dean riled up. But this wasn't a normal situation and he wasn't the normal Dean. Dean had always been a very loving and affectionate dom, but you knew demon Dean was about as far from loving and affectionate as one could be. You didn't want to see exactly how far he'd go if you pushed his buttons.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Answer my question."

"I did imagine you," you said so softly he almost didn't hear you.

He pretended to have missed your words and he leaned in closer. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I imagined you," you said again, slightly louder.

"I know." He simultaneously bit into your neck and rubbed his fingers against your clothed clit, eliciting a wanton moan from your lips.

"There are lots of women in this world that'll fall right into my bed with a single look from me, but not a single one has a pussy like yours. Been dreamin' of it for weeks."

His words hurt you, but you pushed those feelings aside and tried to focus on the positive of the backhanded compliment he'd just given you.

He suddenly stepped back, leaving you completely untethered and weaker than you'd expected. Had the wall not been right behind you, you'd be on the floor right now.

His eyes roamed your disheveled body hungrily, possessively. He backed up towards the bed, taking off his shirt as he went. He sat down on the edge, eyes still glued to your body. "Come here."

You did as he asked, too afraid to disobey him.

"Strip."

You started to remove your clothes quickly, but his gravelly voice stopped you. "Slower."

You very slowly removed each article of clothing until you were completely bare. While you'd been naked hundreds of times in front of Dean, this time was different. You felt self-conscious under his hard gaze, afraid he wouldn't like what he saw.

He seemed to sense your discomfort, and to your surprise he assuaged it instantly. "Becoming a demon didn't make me stop loving that body of yours, sweetheart. It's still my favorite thing in the world."

You relaxed instantly, feeling pleased that he liked your body so much. A soft voice in the back of your mind pointed out he'd said your body was his favorite, not you--but you pushed that thought aside for the sake of your heart.

He spread his legs wide and leaned back on his hands, appreciative gaze roaming your exposed flesh. "Now, show me how you like your pretty pussy to be touched."

You bit your lip, keeping your eyes locked on his face as you slid one hand to your breasts and the other to your aching pussy. Dean's eyes watched as you slipped your fingers between your folds, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

You toyed with your clit gently, little moans and whimpers filling the room. You watched as Dean removed his belt and stood up to take off his jeans and underwear. When you finally got a good view of his cock you moaned a little louder, and his eyes flicked up to your face. He smirked when he realized what had caused that noise to come out of your mouth.

He stepped towards you, gripping his large cock firmly in his dominant hand, stroking it slowly. Your own hand had slowed nearly to a stop, but Dean wouldn't have any of that. "Did I say you could stop?"

You quickly sped back up, wanting to please him with an unhealthy level of desperation.

"You're such a good girl for me. My little slut," he said lowly. "Saw the way you looked at my cock, baby--bet you want it in your mouth."

You nodded rapidly.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. "On your knees."

You dropped to your knees instantly, ready and willing to give him want he asked for.

"Open your mouth. Now."

Your mouth opened obediently, waiting for his next move.

"You gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours?"

You nodded eagerly.

"So fucking sexy like this," he murmured. "Gonna make you choke on my cock."

He gave no further warning before grabbing the back of your head and tugging you down onto his cock. You gagged as his large member slammed into the back of your throat, a burning sensation accompanying it.

His hips moved rapidly as he fucked your face harshly--it was as if you were an inanimate object, only there to give him pleasure.

This level of roughness was new for you, and you were surprised to find how much you were enjoying it. Your eyes watered, spit dribbled down your jaw, and your pussy dripped.

The ache was almost unbearable, so you slipped a hand between your legs to provide yourself some relief.

Dean's observant gaze saw the action and he grinned. "Such a dirty little slut aren't you? Getting off on sucking my cock."

You moaned around him, pulling a surprised groan from deep in his throat. He gripped your head tighter, thrusts speeding up. "Fuck--love this mouth," he ground out.

The force of his thrusts made you pause your own ministrations, attention focused solely on the intensity of his motions. You gripped his strong thighs tightly, nails digging into the soft flesh.

"Oh fuck yes--gonna cum in this sweet little mouth, baby."

You moaned in response.

"Yeah? You want that? Want me to cum down your throat?"

You moaned again and tried to nod.

"How could I deny my little slut?" His grip tightened even further on your head, pulling your hair painfully. With one final thrust, he spilled his load into your mouth, hot ropes of cum filling your throat.

You swallowed every drop he gave you, knowing he'd certainly punish you if even a single drop left your mouth.

Even Dean had to admit, he hadn't had an orgasm that good since he'd become a demon--and watching you swallow all of his cum like that had him wanting more. "Greedy, are we?"

You licked your lips as you looked up at him. "I can't help it. You just taste so good."

He was taken aback by your statement, cock twitching in response. Perks of being a demon, he thought to himself. Already ready for round two. "On the bed, feet off the end."

You got up and laid down on the bed, face up. You weren't moving quickly enough for Dean, so he grabbed your ankles and roughly pulled you towards him. Your ass was now hanging off the bed slightly and your pussy was at the perfect height for him to enjoy from his knees.

There was something incredibly thrilling about seeing Dean on his knees for you. While it wasn't the first time, you doubted demon Dean was the kind of man who'd get on his knees for anyone.

"Now I'm gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours until I get my fill, understand? If you try to stop me, you will be punished."

"Yes, Dean."

"Good girl," he mumbled. He spread your legs as wide as they would go and breathed deeply. He licked his lips subconsciously before diving into you.

As always, Dean knew exactly what to do to drive you wild--he'd learned how to read your body years ago. His tongue felt incredible, large and flat, licking from the bottom of your pussy to the top, giving your clit a gentle flick, then repeating.

You shifted your hips, trying to get him to speed up, which he ignored. Instead, he laid his arm across your lower belly, holding you in place so he could continue his work.

After several more moments of this agonizing pace, he finally relented, lips wrapping around your clit to suck it into his mouth. You cried out in pleasure, legs already beginning to shake.

His motions were rhythmic, sucking your clit and licking it intermittently, as if he couldn't decide which one he preferred. As your moans grew in intensity, he knew you were getting closer. He had plans for you this evening--and your first orgasm of the night was going to be from his mouth and nothing else.

Your fingers had tangled in his hair and you were desperately trying to grind yourself against his face, but his arm prevented you from moving. He switched to focus all of his attention on your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue at an insane rate of speed.

You cried out as you came, the orgasm breathtaking in its intensity and pleasure. Dean worked you through the high, but didn't make any signs of stopping.

You remembered his words from earlier, so you kept your mouth shut even though the sensitivity was overwhelming.

When he felt your body begin to relax and the soft moans began to leave your lips again, he slowed his pace way down. He wanted to take his time now, enjoying your taste and the sweet sounds you made for him.

He slid two of his fingers into you, pressing gently against your g-spot before sliding them back out. His tongue laved at your clit, moans of his own giving it the slightest vibrations.

When your pussy started clenching tightly around his fingers and your breathing had become more labored, he sped up. He sucked and licked at your clit, nipping ever so gently at the hood, causing you to yelp softly.

Your fingers had once again found their way to his hair and you were holding on for dear life. You felt your orgasm building--it was so close. You voiced as much to Dean, even though he was already very aware.

You were just about to reach your peak when Dean suddenly slowed down--to an agonizingly slow pace.

"No, no, no--please!" you begged.

Dean ignored your pleas, opting to focus on his activities instead. He sped up just a tiny bit, building your orgasm back up.

The louder your moans became, the faster Dean went. Your orgasm was approaching once again and you begged Dean not to stop.

You were a second away from your orgasm when Dean once again slowed his motions. You cried out in anguish as the blissful feeling faded away.

"Please, Dean," you whimpered.

He lifted his head slightly, fingers still moving very slowly against your g-spot. "I'm not done with this pussy yet. Tastes too good for me to stop."

"But I need to cum," you cried.

"You'll cum when I let you cum," he said harshly.

His mouth dropped back to your pussy, focus once again on enjoying his feast.

Dean did this two more times--denying you an orgasm mere seconds before one was to occur. By this point, you were crying and begging him to just let you cum--you couldn't stand the ache any longer.

Dean decided he had listened to your babbling pleas for long enough. He pulled away from you, leaving you whimpering shamefully.

Dean laid down on the bed beside you. "Get up here. I'm not finished yet."

You were confused, so you didn't move fast enough for him. He smacked your breast harshly and you yelped in pain.

"I said, get up here. Now."

"I don't understand," you whimpered.

Dean sighed in exasperation. "Sit on my face so I can eat you properly."

It's not like you hadn't done this with him before. It was something you'd always known Dean enjoyed, but your brain was so fuzzy with need, it hadn't even crossed your mind.

You pulled yourself up and straddled his head. He didn't wait for you to sit down, he simply grabbed your hips and tugged you down to his waiting mouth.

You moaned in pleasure instantly, the sound spurring him on. He knew you were in for an incredibly intense orgasm and he was dying to taste it--to feel you coat his mouth and face with your sweet juices.

He had you on the brink in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but you couldn't be bothered to feel any shame. You were grinding down on his face, using him for your own pleasure.

You prayed he wouldn't stop this time--the need to cum so overwhelming it was painful. You were gripping onto the headboard for support as you rode his face, moans slowly rising in pitch as you neared climax.

Dean's fingers dug into your upper thighs and hips so tightly there were sure to be bruises. He could tell you were close, so he sped up his motions, desperate for you to cum.

"Dean--I-I'm gonna--"

You finally came with a scream of his name--the sound so loud it likely woke the entire hotel. Your legs shook violently, the pleasure so blinding you nearly blacked out.

It wasn't until you felt someone lifting you and laying you on your back that you started to become aware of your surroundings again.

Dean watched you, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. He reached out and brushed your hair from your face where it had stuck to your sweaty skin. It was an oddly affectionate gesture for a demon.

He waited patiently for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings--come back down to earth, as it were. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, you smiled, forgetting for a moment that he was anything but the man you loved.

"That was...in-incredible," you mumbled breathlessly.

He grinned. "Happy to be of service."

You smiled in return, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Dean crawled on top of you, arms on either side of your body, ensuring you couldn't get away. "I'm no where near done with you yet."

"You give me another orgasm like that and you just might kill me."

He grinned wolfishly, eyes darkening with lust. "Oh sweetheart...you have no idea what I could do to you."

You weren't sure if it was a threat or a promise, but you were incredibly turned-on by it. Dean could see the rapid rise and fall of your chest beneath him...and he knew his words had the desired effect.

He grabbed his cock and rubbed it very gently between your folds. You inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"Do you want my cock?"

You nodded rapidly.

"Come on baby, I wanna hear you say it."

"I want your cock."

"Good girl," he murmured, repeating his earlier motion. "Now beg for it."

Your eyes widened and he gave you a warning look. You knew you had to beg or else. "I want your cock so badly."

"Mhmm."

"I need it."

"Keep going."

"I...I wanna feel you inside me."

"Come on, sweetheart," he chided. "I know you can do better than that."

"I want you to fuck me, Dean. Please--I need you."

He slipped the tip of his cock into you and you whimpered softly. "Give me a little more, baby."

"I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name," you begged. "I'll be so good for you--I promise."

He plunged into you without warning, sheathing himself deep in your warm, wet heat. "That's my good girl," he moaned.

He started to move slowly, in and out, each direction painfully slow. "My god have I missed this pussy," he said as if to himself.

You whined beneath him, hoping he'd get the hint and pick up the pace.

He looked down at your needy expression and smirked. "Patience, baby. I'll make those knees weak--don't you worry."

He leaned down to kiss you roughly, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he deepened the kiss. His thrusts started to speed up, matching the pace he'd set with his tongue in your mouth.

After several moments, he pulled himself up, grabbing your legs and putting one on each side of his head. The new position allowed him to hit that spot so deep inside you, you'd thought it was a myth until you met him.

He began to piston in and out of you, each thrust hard and fast. Each time he'd pull almost all the way out slowly before slamming back into you with force--cock brushing up against your cervix with each thrust.

It didn't take long before you were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. He loved seeing how fucked out you were--knowing that it was all because of him.

"Whose pussy is this?"

Your eyes shot open. "Yours!" you gasped.

"That's right, baby. Mine," he growled. "No one gets to touch you like this but me."

"No one," you confirmed breathlessly.

His eyes flashed black. "I'll kill anyone who even looks at you like he wants to fuck you."

You inhaled sharply. Dean had always been a very protective man--possessive even--but this was a whole new level. You had no doubt in your mind that he was completely serious. He would most certainly murder a man for daring to have so much as an unclean thought about you.

It probably shouldn't have turned you on, but it did--his possessive nature infinitely more intense now that he was a demon. Your pussy clenched down tightly around him, signaling how much you liked his words.

"That turns you on, huh? You like the thought of me owning you? Owning this pussy?"

"Yes!" you cried out as he continued to pound into you.

"Lucky for you, I'm never letting you go again," he growled. His thrusts were fast and hard, his focus on feeling you cum around his cock.

His words had an immediate effect on you, his possessiveness almost affectionate in that moment. It was exactly what you needed to fall over the edge with a low moan of his name.

"Fuck!" he groaned as he tried to maintain his speed. Your pussy was squeezing him so tightly he could barely move. "Jesus, baby--gotta stop squeezing me like that."

"Sorry," you whimpered, trying to relax your body.

Dean's hips began to move again and he leaned forward to kiss your jawline. "Don't apologize--not your fault this pussy feels so fuckin' good--made for me."

You gasped softly, skin flushing at his praise.

He pulled out of you without warning and roughly flipped you onto your stomach. His palm landed on your ass with a firm smack, causing you to jump slightly.

"Lift your hips," he ordered.

You did as he asked and he slid into you, immediately setting a brutal pace. He alternated between smacking your ass, pulling your hair, and gripping your hips so you couldn't move.

Your pussy pulsed and fluttered around his cock, the pleasure becoming unbearable. "Dean--s-so close," you moaned.

"I know--you're squeezing me so tight," he replied through gritted teeth. "But don't you dare cum until I give you permission."

"But, I--"

He grabbed you by the hair, tugging you up so your back was pressed against his chest. He nipped at your ear and pressed his hand firmly against your neck--not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know he could.

His voice was low and demanding when he spoke again, "Be a good girl for me, (Y/N), and I won't have to hurt you. But if you disobey me, I will take everything I want and give you nothing, do you understand?"

"Yes," you whispered breathily.

"Good." He released you suddenly, letting your body fall back onto the bed as he renewed his painful thrusts.

You used all of your concentration to focus on not cumming until he allowed you to, but the more time passed, the more painful it was not to orgasm.

"Dean, please--I-I can't t-take it," you cried.

"Yes you can, baby. You're already taking my cock so well."

"Ne-need to cum," you begged.

Dean thought about it for a moment and made a decision. His hips slowed and he leaned forward to speak close to your ear. "You can cum after I do."

You whimpered, head nodding your agreement.

Dean's hands gripped onto your hips, holding them in place as he pistoned in and out of you, chasing his own high. He heard your desperate whimpers and felt your pussy spasming around him, but all he cared about was his release.

His hips began to falter as pleasure licked up his spine moments before he came with a guttural groan, spilling his seed deep inside you.

The moment you felt his cum begin to fill you up, your own orgasm crashed into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Dean worked you through your high before pulling out of you and letting you collapse on the bed. His large body hovered over yours as he pressed kisses into your heated skin.

His cock was still throbbing with need, despite having just had an incredible orgasm. He knew you were exhausted, but he hadn't had his fill of you yet.

He rolled you back over and slid inside of you, slowly bottoming out with a breathless moan. You whimpered at the sensation, pussy too sensitive and overstimulated for another round.

"No--no more, Dean, please."

"I warned you, sweetheart...told you I wanted to fuck you all night."

"It--it's too much."

He slowly slid out of you and slowly slid back in. "I know you can take it."

You shook your head. "I can't--"

Dean grabbed your wrists and pulled them over your head, holding them tightly in place with one hand. The motion forced him lower, making his body weight press firmly against you.

His lips brushed against yours and his voice was almost pained when he whispered, "I'll be gentle."

You saw the need in his mossy green eyes and your resolve crumbled. You supposed you could allow him at least one more orgasm. "Alright," you murmured.

He smiled at you before kissing you deeply, thoroughly enjoying the taste and feel of you. His thrusts were slow and measured, much more gentle than they'd been before.

To your surprise, the friction wasn't as painful as you'd expected. In fact, you found yourself enjoying the slow feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the thick vein on the underside throbbing inside you.

He let go of your wrists to hold himself up a little, allowing him more room to move. His eyes traced your face as he fucked you, the action incredibly intimate despite the situation.

After several minutes of gentle thrusts, Dean pulled himself up into a sitting position and pulled you along with him. You weren't strong enough to hold yourself up properly, but he was more than capable of keeping your body where he wanted it.

He leaned back, lying flat against the bed, with you now straddling him. You put your hands on his chest for leverage as you began to ride him.

Dean let out a soft moan, which you echoed when he pulled your hips down flush against his so you couldn't move. He pressed his hand firmly against your lower belly and you gasped in pleasure.

"You feel that, baby? Feel my cock so deep inside you? Feels so fuckin' good."

You nodded rapidly, not trusting your voice to actually speak.

Dean released your hips so you could move again, but his eyes didn't leave your body. "You look so fuckin' sexy riding me. Could stare at ya all night."

You blushed deeply, gaze pulling away from his bashfully.

He reached up and touched your cheek, pulling your face back towards him. "I like looking at you."

You bit your lip, but didn't turn away. Having demon Dean compliment you felt so incredibly different than what you were used to. It almost felt wrong to appreciate his words and his gaze--as if you were cheating on your husband. You knew you weren't really, but it still felt wrong.

After several more moments, Dean tired of the slowness of the pace. He grabbed you and pulled you down to him, wrapping his arms around you to hold you tightly. He planted his feet and began to piston up into you, sending shock waves of pain and pleasure through your body.

He loved the wrecked sounds coming from your mouth as he fucked up into you. He knew his current angle would hit your sweet spot with each thrust--and he knew you wouldn't be able to avoid another orgasm.

He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to feel you cum all over his cock again--the sensation was almost as incredible as his own orgasm. He found himself craving it with a desperation he didn't want to dive too deeply into.

"I know you're close, sweetheart," he murmured. "I can feel it--know you wanna cum around my cock."

Your moans and whimpers were all the confirmation he needed.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Please," was all you could manage to say.

"Cum for me."

His command sent you over the edge with shocking ease. You weren't certain you even had it in you to cum again, and the intensity of the orgasm surprised you.

Dean held on tightly as your body shook, your pussy clenching and unclenching around him as you squirted all over his lower body.

"Holy fuck, you're sexy," he groaned, an intense feeling of pride surging through his veins. He'd made you squirt before, but every single time felt like a gold fucking medal to him.

His thrusts became more sloppy as his own orgasm neared. He was so close he could practically taste it, but it was your aftershocks that finally had him exploding inside of you. He stopped moving, holding you tight to him as he emptied deep in your pussy.

He carefully rolled you over onto your back before sliding out of you. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness, which made his chest swell with pride.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, baby--spread 'em nice and wide," he murmured, large hand gently rubbing your thighs. "Spread yourself open--wanna watch my cum leaking out of you."

You did as he asked, surprised to find yourself so turned-on by his request. You watched him stare at the apex of your thighs, your mixed spends dripping from your abused hole.

He licked his lips, gaze flickering back up to yours. "You're the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You inhaled sharply, pleased by his praise. "Come here," you whispered, reaching for him.

You were surprised when he actually complied, crawling up your body and placing a soft kiss on to your lips, allowing you to run your hands through his hair affectionately.

After a few moments, Dean pulled away. "Why don't you get a little rest? You'll need your strength."

You looked at him in shock. "Strength for what?"

"You didn't think we were done, did you?"

"Dean, you can't possibly be serious!"

His eyes flashed black, reminding you exactly who and what you were dealing with. "I'm deadly serious."

You exhaled shakily as it finally dawned on you that you had no control over your current situation. Dean could do anything he wanted to you and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it.

But that wasn't the concerning part. The concerning part was how little fear you felt. The idea of him being completely in control felt like a good thing...and that was what really scared you.

**********

You awoke several hours later to the feeling of Dean's rough hands on your soft skin. You were lying on your side, with him directly behind you. It had been a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but it seemed Dean now had a different idea.

You felt his cock tease your pussy and you whimpered softly.

"Need you just one more time," Dean murmured in your ear as he slid into you. He held you tightly against him, still spooning you as he began his gentle thrusts.

"Focus on how my cock feels in that tight little pussy of yours," he instructed. "I know you're sore, baby, but I'm gonna make you feel so good."

You'd lost count of the number of orgasms you'd had somewhere after the 7th one. You hadn't even known it was possible for the human body to have that many. Dean was right--you were sore, too sore to move, in fact.

"I've got you," he murmured, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The intimacy of the moment surprised you and you weren't sure why Dean was being so soft. You leaned back into him, feeling the taunt muscles of his abdomen flex against you.

He took the movement as permission to continue what he was doing. He slid his hand farther down your body, slipping it between your legs to rub light circles on your swollen clit.

You gasped softly, nails digging into the flesh of his arm.

Dean shushed you gently. "Let me make you feel good--just relax."

You tried to do as he said, willing your overstimulated body to stop tensing.

As Dean continued his gentle thrusts and soft touches, you began to feel the familiar tightening deep in your abdomen. You focused on the feeling, on the need for a release as it rose within you.

"You're doing so good for me," Dean praised. "So sexy--with this fucking perfect pussy. Could stay here forever."

His murmured words of praise went straight to your core, causing it to tighten around him. He moaned softly, continuing his movements.

"Dean," you whispered. "I'm close."

He pressed his lips into your shoulder. "Let go for me, baby. I've got you."

For a moment--just a moment--you felt like you were making love to your Dean. The feeling was fleeting, but it gave you hope, even as it ripped your heart to pieces.

He knew exactly what to do to send your body into overdrive--he'd always known. He had you falling apart in minutes, soft cries of pleasure slipping past your tired lips.

"That's it, baby," Dean groaned. "Gonna fill you up."

Dean came for a final time, deep inside you. You'd lost track of his orgasms long before you'd lost track of your own.

He whispered your name softly, lips brushing against your skin sweetly.

He didn't pull out, but his cock finally began to soften--having reached the limit even for a demon.

After several minutes, he allowed you to pull away from him. You rolled over and quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to even exist for a moment longer.

**********

When you finally woke up, you weren't sure how much time had passed. Your entire body was sore, a dull ache from your head to your toes.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing beside you to the empty bed. Your eyes flitted around the room, seeking any sign of Dean. His clothes were still strewn all over the floor, along with yours, but he could very well have put on fresh clothes.

You weakly pulled yourself out of the bed and slowly made your way to the bathroom, bladder pulsating painfully. After using the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to revive yourself even a little.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in the various marks and bruises littering your skin. You would typically wear such marks like a badge of honor, but in this moment, you only felt shame.

You'd had explosive sex with a demon--not just any demon, a demon that used to be your husband. Your heart clenched as images flashing through your mind. You'd loved it in the moment, but now you felt incredibly guilty.

You couldn't help but wonder what Dean would think of you if you were able to make him human again. You were scared he'd be upset with you--ashamed even.

The sound of the hotel room door opening shook you from your thoughts. You grabbed the robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom and threw it on quickly, barely covering yourself before Dean came into view.

"Hey sweetheart," he said with a smile. "I brought food."

Surprise lit up your face as you stared at him. You hadn't been certain he'd come back, let alone bring you food. "Oh, umm...thank you."

He nodded and placed the bags on the small table. "You wanna take a shower first or eat first?"

You were still in shock from his behavior, but you managed to mumble, "Shower." You closed the door slowly and started the shower, but you didn't get in.

You took a moment to try and collect yourself, but you found it nearly impossible to relax. You sighed and dropped the robe from your body before stepping under the hot spray.

The calming feeling of the water washing over you brought you some relief--as if it was washing away your sins. It also gave you some clarity.

At the end of the day, he was still Dean--and you desperately wanted him back. If this was the only way to do it, then you just had to suck it up and do what needed to be done. If necessary, you'd beg for forgiveness later.

When you got out of the shower Dean was waiting for you at the table. You'd thrown the robe back on, having no other clothes with you.

You offered him a smile before going towards where your undergarments lay near the bed. You also picked up your jeans, but your shirt was completely ruined.

Dean's keen eyes followed you around the room, watching in silence. When you made it to the door where the remnants of your shirt lay, Dean chuckled lightly. "Why don't you wear one of mine, sweetheart?"

You held up the ripped fabric. "I don't think I have much of a choice."

He smiled and stood up, grabbing a clean flannel out of the duffle on the floor. He handed it to you and waited--as if he expected you to say something.

You looked down at the flannel in your hand and inhaled sharply. It was your favorite flannel of his--green and black in color, and incredibly soft from all the washes it had endured.

He saw the moment you recognized the shirt and he suddenly felt oddly nervous--he wanted you to be happy, as silly as that might be for a demon.

"I'll just go throw these on," you whispered.

Dean just nodded as you walked past him to the bathroom. You came out a few minutes later, fully clothed.

He let out a soft sound you could only describe as a low growl. "I love it when you wear my clothes."

You blushed. "You always did find it sexy."

He grinned darkly and took a step towards you, but you shook your head gently.

"My entire body is sore, Dean."

He pouted. "A kiss at least?"

You sighed. "Fine."

He leaned down to kiss you with shocking gentleness. It warmed you from the inside out.

"See? I can be gentle," Dean said with a smirk.

"Interesting for a demon," you mumbled, sitting down at the table.

You missed the look of hurt that crossed Dean's face at your words. He sat at the table across from you, expression impassive.

You started to eat, quickly discovering how hungry you really were. Dean watched you quietly, not particularly hungry himself. He noticed some marks on your exposed collarbone and throat and he felt an odd feeling in his chest. It made him extremely uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite place the feeling.

"Dean?" you asked softly.

His eyes refocused on your face. "Hmm?"

"I know what you're going to say, but will you please come back with me? Just--Just come home, Dean--please." You were more than ready to beg, but you found you didn't need to.

"Alright."

You'd opened your mouth for a rebuttal, but his voice stopped you--"What?"

"I'll come back with you."

Your face was a mixture of surprise and confusion. "I, uhh--I was expecting to have to beg you."

"No need," he commented. "After last night, I have no desire to be anywhere else."

"Anywhere else?"

"Perhaps I should have said with anyone else."

"Ahh. I see." Your heart fluttered slightly, even though the words came from a demon.

"So yes, I'll go back home with you...on one condition."

Your heart began to beat faster as you waited for him to continue.

"Under no circumstances will you ever force me to become human."

Your chest ached at his words, your eyes fluttered closed, and your breath exhaled slowly. Dean knew what he was asking of you--knew it was a lot deeper than a simple promise. "Don't make me promise that," you whispered.

Dean's eyes flicked to black and his expression hardened. "Promise me or leave. The choice is yours."

It felt as though time slowed around you. You had never once broken a promise to Dean--never. He knew you prided yourself on that--he knew you would never break one. You couldn't find it in yourself to betray him, even now.

"I have one condition of my own."

Dean raised a single eyebrow.

"I will make you that promise, if you give me the First Blade."

It was Dean's turn to be surprised. "Why?"

"You know why."

His eyes flicked back to green, but he looked annoyed. "And if I don't give it up?"

"Then I leave."

Dean weighed his options in silence. After a few moments, he got up and crossed the room towards the door where his jacket hung. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the First Blade.

You inhaled sharply, a ripple of fear surging through you.

He crossed the short distance back to you, placing the Blade on the table in front of you. You reached out for it, but his hand snapped forward and grabbed your arm.

"Do we have a deal?"

You exhaled heavily. "We have a deal."

"Say it."

"I promise I will never force you to become human again," you whispered.

He released your arm and smirked. He was obviously pleased with himself, even as you quite clearly ached from making such a promise.

You pulled the Blade towards you, keeping it as close to you as you could. You needed to call Crowley to come get the damn thing as soon as possible--you wanted it as far away from Dean as possible.

“Maybe we can leave when I’m done eating?”

Dean just nodded. “Better not tell Sam until we get there.”

You couldn't have told him even if you'd wanted to, given that Crowley had broken your phone, so you simply nodded your agreement.

Dean watched you in silence while you finished eating, his face completely unreadable. You were worried about what Dean was planning, but you were more worried about Sam's reaction to all of this.

**********

The drive back to the bunker was uneventful. Dean drove straight through the night, no need for sleep. You were still tired from your antics the day before, so you slept for a large portion of the drive.

Dean woke you 10 minutes before arrival. "How pissed you think Sammy's gonna be?" he asked.

"You left him to die, Dean--he's probably not gonna be excited to see you."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, he didn't die though."

You shot him a glare and he laughed. "It's not funny, Winchester."

"It's not, not funny."

You sighed. "Just let me do the talking, okay? He's not pissed at me."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He's gonna be."

"Either way," you mumbled. "Just let me handle it."

"Fine."

Dean pulled in to the underground garage and you both got out of the car. You weren't sure if Sam would even be there--you hadn't spoken to him in a couple days. For all you knew, he could have been kidnapped a second time--or maybe he thought you were the one missing.

As you entered into the bunker properly, you found it very quiet and very empty.

"Looks like nobody's home," Dean commented.

"Sam's probably worried about me--god only knows where he is," you muttered. You turned to Dean. "Let me borrow your phone."

He eyed you warily. "What happened to yours?"

"Crowley broke it."

Dean's eyes narrowed, flashing black aggressively. "He what?"

"Easy there killer--he broke my phone, not me."

"I'll kill him."

"Get in line," you mumbled as you stuck out your hand. "Phone, please."

He handed you his phone and you immediately dialed the familiar number. Sam answered on the second ring, hope and surprise in his voice, "Dean?"

"No, it's me."

You heard relief in his voice when he spoke again. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay? I was seriously worried--" he paused, seemingly remembering whose phone you were using. "Are you with Dean?"

Dean leaned in over your shoulder to speak into the phone. "Hiya, Sammy."

You elbowed Dean lightly. "I'm fine, Sam, and yes, I'm with Dean."

"How--?"

"Crowley."

"Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Also, Crowley. He busted my phone--hence why I'm using Dean's."

"Are you--are you safe?"

You looked over at Dean and sighed. "Yeah, I'm safe."

Sam sighed in relief. "Where are you--I'll come get you."

"We're, uhh--we're actually back home."

"What?"

"We're at the bunker."

"How the hell did you convince him to come back with you?"

"We can talk about that when you get here. Just come home."

"I'm on my way."

You hung up the phone and handed it back to Dean, who gave you a hungry look.

"So...what should we do while we're waiting?"

"I know you're a demon, but I'm not," you said lightly. "I'm still sore."

"Aww c'mon, sweetheart," Dean pouted slightly. "I'll be gentle."

You shook your head with a small smile. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I was gentle yesterday morning, wasn't I?"

"After several orgasms and some very rough sex."

"I thought you enjoyed that," he said lowly, stepping closer to you.

You blushed, taking a step back. "I--I did."

He grinned predatorily. "I can make it very good for you, baby."

You felt a rush of arousal flood your body as he took another step towards you, backing you up against the large table behind you.

He breathed deeply and his eyes flashed black. "I can smell your desire."

You exhaled shakily.

Dean leaned forward, pinning you against the table. He placed one arm on the table and the other very lightly against your throat. "How 'bout I take you right here?"

You weren't opposed to the idea, but you weren't sure exactly how far away Sam was. "What if Sam comes back?"

Dean shrugged. "Then we'll give him a show."

You smacked his chest affectionately. "We will not."

"Then I guess you better hope he doesn't come back while I'm fucking you senseless."

You gasped and Dean leaned down, pressing his lips hungrily against yours. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion, fingers digging into his back to pull him closer to you.

You felt Dean's fingers brush against your chest and you pulled back immediately. "Wait!"

Surprise lit up his face and he released you instantly. "What's wrong?"

"This is my favorite flannel--you are not going to rip it."

Dean laughed heartily. "My apologies, sweetheart. You can take it off yourself then."

You quickly unbuttoned it and slid it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor nearby. You looked back up at him, a sultry smile on your face. "You may continue."

"Oh, I will." Dean gripped the front of your bra and tore it directly down the center, revealing your heaving breasts to him.

You gasped at the action, but it quickly turned to a moan as his hands began to massage your breasts and pinch your nipples harshly.

Your hips instinctively jutted forward, seeking his body for some relief. Dean immediately noticed, pressing his body firmly against yours, knee sliding between your legs to apply pressure against your core.

You ground yourself down on his knee and groaned softly. You repeated the action, the friction giving you pleasure.

"That's it, pretty girl," Dean growled lowly. "Get yourself off my thigh."

You continued your motions, but it just wasn't enough to get you to your peak. You whimpered softly and Dean chuckled darkly.

"Not enough for you, baby? Need me to help you?"

"Please," you begged.

He made quick work of removing your jeans, but instead of removing your underwear, he simply ripped them right off, practically shredding the lace.

Dean slipped two of his fingers between your legs and plunged them into your core. You gasped and clenched tightly around him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--you're fuckin' soaked," Dean groaned into your neck, fingers thrusting in and out of you hastily. "So damn tight too."

You whined softly as he pulled his fingers out and slipped them into his mouth, sucking them clean. He gripped your hips tightly and lifted you to place you on the table properly.

You wrapped your legs tightly around him and pulled him in closely, desperately wanting to feel him against your skin. You tugged at his shirt, which he quickly removed.

Your fingers grasped at his belt, but he smacked your hand away. He said nothing as he dropped to his knees and tugged your hips forward.

"Spread those legs for me."

You did as he asked, spreading your legs as wide as you could. You waited for him to touch you, but he made no moves to do so. "Dean?" you asked softly, slight desperation in your voice.

His eyes raised up to meet yours, a dark expression on his face. "Touch yourself."

"What?" you asked in quiet confusion.

"You want some relief? Touch yourself."

You supported yourself on one arm while you moved the other between your legs. You were mortified by the wetness dripping down your folds, but you collected some before sliding your fingers between your labia.

Dean watched with dark, hungry eyes as you played with your clit, soft whimpers of enjoyment slipping from your lips.

"Spread yourself open so I can see," he demanded.

You did as he asked, using your other hand to spread yourself, giving him a proper view of your aching pussy.

"Fuck," he muttered beneath his breath. "Keep going."

Your fingers immediately went back to rubbing your clit, desperate to feel that tightening in your core--knowing the pleasure it would bring.

Dean's large hands splayed on your thighs, massaging them gently as he watched, eyes glued to your movements.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he leaned forward and licked into your pussy, making you shiver with anticipation. You moved your hand away and he slapped your pussy harshly, causing you to yelp.

"Did I fucking say you could stop?" he growled, eyes flashing black.

You inhaled sharply and shook your head, fingers immediately returning to your core. You wouldn't admit it to him, but you liked this dark side of him--he would never have let it come out like this if he were human. He was too afraid to hurt you--too protective to even consider it. You hadn't known how much you'd enjoy it until now...and you just had to hope Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean's tongue lapped lazily between your folds as you continued to massage your clit. Every time you felt the pressure begin to build in your gut, your fingers would instinctively speed up. Each time they sped up, Dean would pull your hand away, keeping your orgasm just out of reach.

After several minutes of this, Dean's control had begun to wane. When your fingers sped up, he once again removed your hand, only this time he replaced it with his mouth. You felt his tongue dance across your clit in the most pleasurable way, fingers entwining themselves in his hair.

Your hips bucked up towards his mouth, but he didn't relent. Even as you screamed his name and your juices began to gush, he kept his mouth on you, drinking up everything you gave him. It wasn't until you'd collapsed back onto the table that he finally pulled away and stood back up, licking his lips in satisfaction.

Your breathing was ragged and your vision was slightly blurred as you looked at him, waiting for him to make his next move. He quickly shed his jeans and boxers, tossing them out of the way before taking his cock into his hand.

He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly as he stroked himself, appreciating how fucked out you already looked. "I need you to sit up, sweetheart." His words sounded soft, but his voice was demanding.

You managed to slowly pull yourself into a sitting position, grabbing onto his muscular arms for support. He teased your entrance with his cock and you whimpered softly.

"Lean back on your hands," he murmured lowly.

You did as he asked, the angle allowing him better access to your pussy. He slipped the head of his cock between your folds and slowly began to push forward until he was completely sheathed inside you.

The feeling of fullness had you gasping softly, head tilted back as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean tugged you even closer by your hips so he could get even deeper. You cried out in pain as his first thrust hit your cervix, but Dean didn't seem to notice. His hips snapped forward repeatedly, each thrust threatening to send you flying across the table if not for his death grip on your hips.

The pain soon gave way to pleasure, the room filling with the sounds of your mixed moans, the slapping of skin, and the sounds of your slickness as he fucked you.

He snaked one hand around your back to pull you even closer to him, practically holding you as he kept his pace. Your legs had begun to shake and your arms were weakening--but you knew your orgasm was near.

"Harder," you whimpered, surprising him.

He growled. "You like it when I fuck you like a little slut, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

His hips moved impossibly faster, the thrusts harder than before.

"Don't stop!" you pleaded.

"I wouldn't dare." He kept the pace as steady as he could, even as he felt his own orgasm rising.

"Please, please, please," you rambled. "S-so close!"

Dean's hand wrapped around your throat, pressing lightly against it. "Cum for me, pretty girl," he growled.

"More!"

He tightened his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. It was all you needed to push you over the edge and into bliss. You cried out as you came, the intensity of your orgasm sparking his own.

He shouted your name in surprise as hot spurts of cum filled you. His thrusts began to slow, but his grip on your body didn't lessen. He held on tightly as you both came down from your highs.

He roughly tugged you forward and off the table. You weren't stable enough to stand, but that didn't matter to him. He spun you around and forced your upper body down onto the table, spreading your legs with one of his.

His cock was already hard again and he plunged into you without warning, earning a cry from your lips.

"Fuck, this pussy is so good for me," he groaned. "I just wanna fuck you until you can't move."

"Dean!" you whimpered, body overly sensitive already.

Once again, his grip on your hips was bruising and his thrusts were almost painful in their depth and intensity. The only thing keeping you upright was the table beneath you, your legs no better than wet noodles.

"You look so fuckin' sexy like this--spread for me, pussy leaking my cum, fuckin' moaning so pretty...fuck." His thrusts sped up, making you cry out.

"Need--shit--need you to cum again, baby."

"I-I c-can't!"

"Yes you can--you've been so good for me. Just give me one more."

Tears welled in your eyes--your body ached horribly, but you wanted to please him so badly. Your hips and thighs hurt from his grip and the force of his thrusts pressing you into the table, but you tried to block all of that from your mind. You focused on the pleasurable feeling of his cock, desperate to give him what he wanted.

"I-I need more," you whimpered.

His hand immediately slipped around to your front and began to rub tight circles to your clit. The sensation nearly pushed you over the edge with how sensitive you were.

"Come on, sweetheart, I can tell you're close."

You moaned in response, focus entirely on reaching your high.

His finger moved faster, the friction sending you into overdrive. You screamed and your nails scratched against the wood as you desperately searched for something to cling to--something to ground you.

"Fuck, yes--that's it. Cum for me, baby."

You screamed again as you came--the pleasure so blinding you passed out for a few moments. When you came to, he was chasing his own high--thrusts becoming more sloppy by the second.

"G-gonna fill you u-up," he ground out, hands tightening on your hips painfully.

Two more thrusts and he was spilling inside of you, hips stuttering as he emptied his seed deep within you. He leaned forward, pressing you even farther into the table, his lips gently caressing your back.

Once he'd regained his breath--and his strength--he pulled out of you and stood up. You nearly slid off the table and onto the floor, but he caught you.

"Woah there--I've got you."

He scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom the two of you shared. He laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness before climbing onto the bed with you.

"No--no more--please," you begged.

"Easy, sweetheart," he purred softly. "I know you're tired--I just wanna be inside of you."

He laid you on your side and he slid up into you, forcing some of his cum back into your pussy. You whimpered at the feeling of fullness, but even you had to admit you enjoyed the feeling.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you close. "Go to sleep, baby. I've got you."

His tone was almost loving--if you didn't know better, you would have thought it was. You were too weak and tired to dwell on it, instead drifting off to sleep with unsurprising ease.

**********

Sam rushed into the bunker like a bat outta hell. He wanted to trust that his brother would never hurt you, but he worried for your safety. Dean was a knight of hell after all.

When he properly entered the war room, he froze. His eyes went to the clothing strewn about the space--a mixture of your's and Dean's. Out of all the things he'd expected, this had not been on the list. He couldn't believe you would be that foolish.

"(Y/N)? Dean?" he called as he walked farther into the bunker.

There was no response, so he made his way to where your bedroom was. The door was shut, so he knocked loudly.

You jolted awake at the loud banging, the movement making Dean moan softly. Somehow he was still hard and buried inside of you--where he'd been for however long you'd been asleep.

"(Y/N)? You in there?" Sam's voice called from the other side of the door.

Dean groaned in annoyance, but you answered anyway. "Yeah--just, uh...give us a minute."

"You coulda told him to go away," Dean mumbled into your shoulder.

"We'd just be delaying the inevitable."

He sighed and slowly removed himself from you, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. He grinned and leaned down over you, kissing you softly. "Don't worry, we can do it again later."

You kissed him back, before giving him a light push against his chest. "I need clothes."

You dragged yourself out of bed and moved around the room, throwing various items of clothing on to make yourself decent. You wanted a shower, but that would have to wait until after you'd talked to Sam.

Dean watched you from his place in the bed, not making a move to get dressed himself.

"You coming?" you asked.

"I'll give you a head start," he answered. "You can talk to Sam alone."

You nodded. "Alright."

You exited the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Sam was standing at the end of the hall near the entrance to the library. The look he gave you told you exactly what kind of mood he was in. He disappeared into the library and you followed shortly after.

"Sam, I can explain--"

"Explain? Really? You wanna explain why you're sleeping with demon Dean?"

"Oh like you can talk," you shot back. "You slept with a demon several times--and she tried to destroy the world."

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he knew you were right.

"Besides, he's still Dean...just a demon," you mumbled.

"Fine," Sam said with a sigh. "Is that how you convinced him to come back with you?"

You averted your gaze and bit your lip lightly. "Not exactly."

"(Y/N)...what did you do?"

"What I had to do."

"(Y/N)."

"I, uh--I made him a promise."

Sam's face paled slightly. "What did you promise him?"

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. "I told him I wouldn't force him to become human again."

"You what?" Sam yelled. "You can't possibly keep that promise."

"I have to, Sam. I've never betrayed Dean before and I sure as hell won't start now."

"Are you kidding me? He's a demon, (Y/N)! A monster! The kind of thing he's loathed for his entire life--you really think he wants this?"

"Of course I don't!" you yelled back. "Do you really think I want my husband to be a demon forever? This was the only way to get him to agree to come back here with me. I don't regret making this promise and I would do it again if I had to!"

"So you'll break it?" Sam asked again, voice still raised.

"No," you answered firmly. "I can't."

"How could you be so stupid, (Y/N)?" Sam yelled harshly. "This is the dumbest goddamn thing you've ever done!"

Dean appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wedging himself between you and Sam. He pushed Sam back aggressively, eyes flashing to black. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "Don't you ever speak to her like that again, or you won't make it to see another sunrise."

"Dean!" you cried, stepping forward to place a calming hand on his arm. "It's alright--I'm fine."

Dean ignored you, black eyes still trained on his brother's face. "Do you understand me?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Apologize."

"Dean, that's not necessary," you tried.

He held up his hand to silence you. "Apologize."

Sam swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright, Sam."

"Don't do it again," Dean seethed.

"Dean," you murmured softly. "We're good--I'm good."

He finally relaxed his shoulders and took a step back. His eyes flicked back to green and he turned to look at you. He seemed to scan you, checking to make sure you really were okay.

"I'm fine," you mouthed.

He nodded, finally believing you. He turned back to his brother. "Now you gonna play nice and adhere to (Y/N/N)'s promise?"

"I don't like it," Sam responded. "But fine."

Dean grinned. "Excellent. Otherwise we'd have quite a problem on our hands."

You exchanged glances between the two men and worried they would have some sort of fight sooner than later. You knew you needed to get the First Blade to Crowley before something terrible happened.

"Sam, can I borrow your phone for a moment?" you asked suddenly.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. Dean eyed you warily, wondering what you were up to.

"Just gonna make a quick call...outside," you mumbled.

You practically ran towards the steps, taking two at a time to get out of there before someone asked too many questions. You called Crowley as soon as the bunker door closed behind you.

"Mrs. Squirrel," Crowley answered by way of greeting.

You rolled your eyes, opting not to comment on the annoying nickname. "I have the Blade."

"Where?"

"The Bunker."

He appeared a few feet away from you and you hung up your phone. You gestured for him to follow you down towards the garage.

"Stay here," you insisted, before entering the garage as quietly as possible.

You went straight for Baby, popping the trunk to retrieve the First Blade from the demon-proof box you'd placed it in. You made your way back outside quickly, not wanting to alert Dean to your movements.

"Take it," you demanded, holding it out to Crowley. "And for the love of god, hide it--put it somewhere Dean will never find it."

"I can assure you, it will be hidden well."

"Good. Now get the hell outta here before I change my mind about killing you."

Crowley smirked mirthlessly. "With pleasure."

He disappeared, taking the First Blade with him. Relief flooded your body and you turned to make your way back into the bunker, hoping to find both men in one piece.

**********

It had been a week since you and Dean had returned to the bunker. As the week went on, Dean's anger and aggression became more and more noticeable.

He hadn't said anything to you, but you knew Dean was jonesing for a kill. You could tell by the way he'd react to things--even the slightest of annoyances would have him reacting violently.

The other indicator came out in Dean's sexual desires. He wanted you almost constantly, regardless of where you were, who else was around, or what was going on. While that alone wasn't problematic, what was concerning was his increasing aggression during sex--and if he didn't get what he wanted immediately.

There wasn't a single inch of your skin he hadn't marked in some way, and you were beyond exhausted. The one time you'd dared to say no to him, resulted in him punching a dent into a metal wall--an action that frightened you. You still didn't think he would hurt you, but you weren't willing to risk it.

Sam had begun to notice as well, especially as it pertained to the marks on your skin. Dean no longer cared about hiding them and makeup wasn't cutting it anymore.

Sam's gaze was on you as you entered the library one morning, limping slightly.

"You know, I'm really starting to worry about you," Sam said quietly.

"I'm alright," you lied as you lowered yourself into a chair, wincing in discomfort.

"Right," Sam muttered sarcastically. "You can't even sit without being in pain."

"If it keeps him from killing someone, then it's worth it," you snapped back.

Sam fell silent, knowing you were right. He wanted to bring up breaking your promise again, but he knew you wouldn't budge. He worried about how Dean would feel about all of this if he became human again...he knew his brother well enough to know it would kill him to know he'd hurt you like this.

Another week went by in much the same manner, but Dean's urge to kill had only worsened. He still hadn't hurt you outside of sex, but you'd begun to fear him--really fear him.

You'd decided to address the issue with him while Sam was out on a store run. You thought he might take it better if Sam wasn't hovering around.

Dean was sitting in the kitchen, drinking his coffee, when you walked in.

"Hey, D," you said softly. "Can we talk?"

He grunted and gestured for you to continue.

"It's about your behavior the last couple weeks. I-I know the bloodlust is getting bad and to be honest, your temper is starting to really scare me."

He looked up at you with black eyes. "Maybe if you'd let me go out and do some hunting I wouldn't be so volatile."

"You know we can't do that, Dean."

"We," he scoffed. "Since when did you and Sam become 'we'?"

You closed your eyes and sighed, ignoring his question. "You're too unpredictable. You know that better than anyone."

He stood up and took a menacing step towards you. "Give me the Blade and let me go out for a while...one or two kills and I'll be right as rain."

"I can't do that."

"I think you mean won't."

You shook your head. "I can't. I don't have the Blade."

He froze. "What the hell do you mean you don't have it?"

"I-I couldn't risk you getting ahold of it...so I made sure it was safe."

His gaze narrowed, eyes still black as ink. He took several steps towards you, but you backed away until you hit the wall behind you.

He was inches from your face when he growled lowly, "Where is it?"

"I don't know," you whispered.

"What?"

"I don't know," you repeated.

"Where did you put it?"

You were deeply regretting telling him anything at all, but you still blurted out, "I gave it to someone!"

"Who?!"

"I needed to make sure it was hidden where you would never be able to find it," you said desperately.

"Who did you give it to?" he roared.

"Crowley," you whimpered in fear.

Dean punched the wall directly beside your head and you yelped in surprise and fear.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

You didn't answer--too afraid to push his buttons further. You could feel the rage rolling off him in waves and you felt the cold terror seize your heart.

"Call him and get it back," he ordered.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't risk Dean getting ahold of the Blade...not for anything.

He pinned you against the wall by your throat, slamming your head back against the wall with enough force to break the skin.

His grip on your throat was painfully tight and you tried desperately to get away. "Dean--" you gasped.

For a moment, you were certain he was going to kill you--you would be the next victim of the Mark's bloodlust and there was nothing you could do about it. Even with his eyes filled with darkness, you could see the boiling rage in them. He wasn't seeing you, he was seeing his next victim.

You struggled against his hold on your throat, trying to loosen his grip enough for you to speak. You smacked your hands against his chest, trying anything to get him to release you.

You suddenly remembered your failsafe--you'd starting carrying it everywhere when Dean became more volatile. You managed to pull the item from your pocket, breaking the lid off as you brought it up and splashed the liquid into Dean's face.

He screamed and released you as the holy water burned his skin. You dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, head throbbing painfully. As you coughed and sputtered, you reached a hand to the back of your head, touching the wound softly. When you brought your hand back down, you saw blood staining your fingers.

At first, all Dean could feel was rage--you'd dared to splash holy water in his face? He'd kill you for it. But then his gaze landed on you as you crouched on the floor, blood soaking your fingers, trying to catch your breath. He looked up and saw the blood on the wall where he'd slammed your head against it and he immediately felt sick.

He stepped away from you, eyes flicking back to green as tears filled them. He hadn't meant to hurt you--even as a demon, he'd never wanted to hurt you. He'd let the Mark's rage get the best of him and he'd nearly killed you.

He backed away to the other side of the room and sank to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He was ashamed of what he had done and for the first time since he'd become a demon, he felt like a monster.

A few minutes later, Sam came into the kitchen, arms laden with bags. His eyes landed on you first and he dropped the bags as he rushed to your side.

"(Y/N)! What happened? Are you okay?"

Without waiting for your response, Dean spoke up. "I happened."

Sam turned to look at Dean on the other side of the room. He felt angry when he heard Dean's words, but the anger dissipated when he saw the agony etched into his brother's face.

"I-I was so angry..." Dean whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm okay," you rasped, voice hoarse from the trauma to your throat.

The sound of your voice nearly broke Dean's heart in half. "Give me the cure," he said to Sam.

"What?" Sam gasped in surprised.

"Make me human again. Please." The desperation in Dean's voice shocked both of you, as did his request.

"Are-are you sure?" you asked.

Dean looked at you in a mixture of sadness and pain. "I would rather risk death than ever hurt you again."

His words washed over you, warming the ache in your chest. You didn't say anything further--you couldn't find the words.

"Let's go then," Sam said firmly.

Dean stood up and followed Sam down to the dungeon. Sam came back a few minutes later to help clean your wounds. As he cleaned your head wound, he told you he'd secured Dean in the dungeon and he'd called for Castiel.

"We might need some backup for this," he muttered.

You nodded, the simple action making your head throb painfully.

"Try not to move too much," Sam said gently.

"I'm alright."

"What happened?" Castiel spoke from the doorway.

"Dean did," Sam said with a sigh.

"You need to be healed."

"No," you insisted as you held up your hand. "Don't waste what little grace you have left on me."

Cas looked down sadly, but he didn't come towards you. "Where is Dean?"

"Dungeon," you mumbled.

Cas walked away, apparently on his way to see Dean.

Sam finished cleaning your head wound and stood up. "I don't think you need stitches."

"Great," you groaned, standing up slowly.

"Woah--take it easy."

"I'm fine, Sam. We need to do this before he changes his mind."

"Cas and I can handle it."

You shook your head. "I'm not leaving him."

Sam sighed and gave you his arm to hold onto while walking down to the dungeon. When you opened the door, you saw Dean strapped to a chair in the center of the room. Cas stood off to the side, waiting.

"Let's get started," you said softly.

You left the dirty work to Sam--you couldn't bring yourself to hurt Dean, even after everything that had happened.

Listening to Dean's screams and pleas was almost too much for you to bear, but you knew it had to be done. Dean had asked to become human again...and there was nothing you wanted more.

Despite the agony he was experiencing, Dean insisted Sam continue the injections. As much as he would have rather stayed a demon, he was too afraid of what he would do to you if left unchecked.

You closed your eyes as Dean once again screamed in pain. You weren't sure how much more of this you could take, let alone Dean.

Dean noticed your demeanor--could tell your resolve was weakening. "It's okay, baby," he told you breathlessly. "I'm okay."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, unshed tears blurring your vision. He gave you a small, weak smile, which you tried to return. It ended up looking more like a wince than anything else.

"I wanted this, remember? I want this," he insisted.

You nodded tearfully. "I know. I just don't like seeing you in pain."

"We've only got one injection left," Sam cut in gently.

You watched in silence as Sam injected him with the final dose. Dean once again cried out, before falling completely silent, head drooping forward.

"Dean?" you whispered in fear.

When he didn't respond, you worried you had all gone too far...that Dean was dead.

As the three of you stared at the man in the chair, you heard a soft groan escape his lips and he slowly lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the beautiful green orbs you loved so much.

"You guys look worried," Dean said softly.

Sam splashed some holy water on his brother, but the liquid had no effect.

You let out a choked sob, beyond relieved to have your husband back.

You thought you heard Sam say, "welcome back Dean," but you were too focused on Dean's face to be sure. His own gaze was locked on yours, tears filing his eyes as he slowly took in the marks littering your skin--especially the bruising around your throat in the shape of his hand.

"(Y/N/N)," he whispered, his voice more broken than you'd ever heard it.

"Uncuff him," you said to Sam, who immediately did as you asked.

Dean stood up, clearly weak from the ordeal he'd just gone through, but nothing would have stopped him from getting to you.

He was a foot or two away from you when you gave in to your own desires, closing the gap between you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and sobbed into his chest--letting out all the pain you'd kept inside for the last couple months.

Dean's arms held you close, lips pressed firmly into your hair, his own tears streaming down his face. Neither of you spoke--there was no need, not yet anyway.

After several minutes, you finally stepped back, wiping the tears from your face. You smiled up at him and whispered, "I love you."

You saw something flash across his face, but it was gone before you could place it. "I love you too," he murmured.

You stood to the side as Sam hugged Dean, followed by Cas. Everyone was glad to have him back, but you could see Dean was struggling--he clearly remembered every moment of being a demon...and you had no idea what kind of impact that would have on him.

"Alright guys, I think he needs some rest. He's been through a lot today," you interrupted softly.

Dean looked at you gratefully and both Sam and Cas nodded their agreement.

"Come on," you murmured, reaching out for Dean's hand.

He grabbed it and followed you to your shared bedroom. To your surprise, he stopped just outside the door. "I think I'd rather sleep in one of the other rooms."

You looked at him in confusion, but he wouldn't quite meet your gaze. "Okay," you whispered. "Whatever you'd prefer."

You followed him to a room down the hall, waiting quietly as he took off his boots before climbing into the bed.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm alright."

You knew he was most definitely not alright, but now wasn't the time to address it.

"Okay. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

He nodded, but said nothing further. He once again couldn't look at you as you left the room. Sadness laced its icy tendrils around your heart, despite the joy you felt at Dean's return to humanity.

You went to join Sam and Cas in the library, not quite wanting to be alone. You didn't want to talk either, but just being around people you loved made you feel a little bit better.

You knew Dean's road to recovery would be long, as would your own. You weren't sure what trials lay ahead of you, but you knew the two of you would make it through--you always did.

If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was how much Dean loved you--if the last few weeks taught you anything, it was that. Your own love for Dean was equally endless--there was nothing you wouldn't do for him. As cliche as it was, love really could conquer all.

[knifeforkspooncup]

Displays of affection I think would fit Aziraphale and Crowley's canon relationship and characterization (Part III):

Part I here

Part II here

Part IV here

Crowley giving into Aziraphale's begging to drive the Bentley and Crowley rage-napping in the passenger seat so he doesn't have to endure the agony of being conscious for Aziraphale driving under the speed limit.

Crowley miracling Aziraphale's waistcoat back to pristine condition as a surprise after phoning around to find out if anyone can repair it "the human way" (they can't and he gets increasingly grouchy about it).

Aziraphale convincing Crowley to come to the barber with him instead of just miracling his appearance the way he wants ("its quite lovely!"). Crowley protests the entire time but Aziraphale can tell he enjoys it.

Crowley hearing Aziraphale talk about a book he loves and secretly reading it so he can know what the big deal is.

Aziraphale making his best effort to swear once in a while just to see the look of demonic joy on Crowley's face (Aziraphale pretends to be embarrassed and horrified ofc).

Aziraphale bringing frozen peas on their walks in case Crowley sees ducks (and keeping them miraculously frozen).

Are you sick of these yet?

[sauntervaguelydown]

Love & Pratchett

The thing about Terry Pratchett is that he wrote about people falling in love plenty, but he never wrote about what I'd call typical romance. When love is sincere and profound it is also very... understated. Practical. Sybil & Vimes--his most famous couple--are like this. The demonstration of devotion is in small things, like wearing the horrible uncomfortable socks your wife made for you because she made them for you. There's a sense of the inevitable about them coming together.

In many cases you wouldn't know it was romance except that the recognizable formula of "boy and girl" picks it out. Look at Newt & Anathema in Good Omens--that's classic Pratchett. They barely exchange a romantic word and in fact it's almost out of Anathema's hands whether she's going to hook up with this absolute soyboy (affectionate). She's not really that nice to him. I always get the impression that the core of their connection is that they're bonded by this experience that no one else can understand. Bonding through shared experience (and even trauma) is a common theme in these subplots.

There's definitely a few showier romance plots, but they're always very tongue in cheek--for example, the literal Romeo & Juliet in Unseen Academicals where Juliet is a very good hearted but basically stupid girl and the POV character is her exasperated mom-friend. There's a lot of gags in the early Discworld novels about male and female characters who Have to fall in love because that's the way narrative works. It's not that they're doomed to be unhappy or even fake or anything, they're just not that deep. Mostly, monogamy is a mundane affair and not really the business of onlookers anyway. Admittedly, the female pov characters have a tendency to wish that things could be a bit more... dramatic. Look at Angua, she's always vaguely frustrated that her boyfriend doesn't react to their relationship with a bit more angst, but ultimately she's practical too. She just wants her partner to be a bit less practical for a moment.

I just reread Nation. Nation isn't a Discworld novel, but I think in a lot of ways it's the most condensed Terry Pratchett you'll ever find in one place. Two characters who are both clever to start with, and wise by the ending, have fallen in love with each other. It's never directly stated. No one confesses to anyone. They get teased about it a little by adults around them. They rescue each other, perform feats of unasked-for heroism on each other's behalf. And at the end, although they want to stay together, they choose their responsibility to their families--and to the future of the world--over staying together. There's one kiss on the cheek as a farewell. But you know that they're still thinking of each other, because at the end of the timeline despite living worlds apart their entire lives, they ask to be buried together.

This is, in my estimation, is the most romantic thing in the Terry Pratchett catalogue. If I can be forgiven for pretending to know the mind of a stranger, I think this is what he found the most romantic. It really is just a profound friendship, between two people who maybe don't always understand each other but always respect each other. Sex really is just a bonus thing, it's nice and certain characters (Angua, Carrot come to mind) pretty clearly have a good time with it, but it's sort of taken for granted. Even kissing isn't all that important. You can't really tell who's in love with who in a Pratchett novel just by looking for physical demonstrations of affection.

Anyway, over the years of Good Omens discourse, this has been the main thing that informs my reading of Aziraphale & Crowley. I'm not widely read in Gaiman material, so I can't speak to that, but from a Pratchett-canon lens, Aziraphale and Crowley fit the vibes of a romantic relationship pretty well. The shared experience, the sense that only they really can understand each other because no one else has seen what they've seen. The heroic gesture of Crowley in the burning shop--the respect that they have for each other, despite the occasional bitching--the "ah. so it's like that." observation of people around them. And most of all, the way they come back together at the end of the novel in a poetic but understated moment, because coming back together of your own free will and going forward together is possibly the most romantic thing that a couple can do in a Pratchett novel.

[badaziraphaletakes]

The autistic community in this fandom has repeatedly said that Aziraphale is extremely autistic coded. Maybe we should start listening. Let's go. *SIGHS*

There's so much I could talk about the critiques I see over this mostly pretty harmless scene, but I'll try to focus on the ableism here:

Aziraphale's playfulness is called "roleplaying" and "dismissive of Crowley's feelings" here. And I must say, as an autistic person, I find it offensive bc this is an extremely autistic coded moment where Aziraphale was unmasking in front of the only person he allows himself to do so and that usually implies he was inviting Crowley to do the same, he was most likely aware of Crowley's anxiety there and making himself vulnerable to him by unmasking, inviting him into his space and vice-versa. (I think calling his special interest, magic, "horrible" is also anti-autistic bias btw)

We never see Aziraphale acting like this with any other character besides Crowley, with whom he does this repeatedly. It's not a new situation. Crowley knows this, and he is used to this kind of behaviour from Aziraphale. And he loves to complain about it btw, and Aziraphale indulges him on that. This is love. This is intimacy.

I know it isn't perfect, I know it lacks verbal communication, but this isn't abusive behaviour in the slightest. Better communication is something they both need to work on after 6k years of having to hide their feelings bc they were being persecuted and abused, the story is telling us this. We have a whole other season for that, the story isn't over.

Now, regarding the second paragraph, the plot made it painfully obvious that the clue was real, so Aziraphale was not going to Edinburgh for fun. He had to go, and Crowley knew it (he never even argued against it), bc of the mystery of Gabriel's situation thay could backfire on them in the future. Who knows what Heaven was doing to their angels (and what they could do to aziracrow!! That's why Crowley had an informant. Didn't Metatron prove this in the end, that the threat was real?). Sure, Aziraphale had fun, bc he was bonding with Crowley through the Bentley and he loves him, so that makes him happy, but that's it. We're allowed to make the most out of a bad situation, guys. It's also a way to deal with stress. Aziraphale and Crowley have different ways of dealing with stress, and both are valid, they're different people, it's normal that they react differently to a crisis.

This scene was a very married moment tbh, filled with comfort with you partner (enough to unmask), an old known and comfortable dance for the both of them, and even an invite to take a step forward in their relationship.

Food for thought: I've been wondering why the fandom likes to say Azi and Crowley are like a "married couple" but some ppl at the same time hate when they in fact act like one?

And finally, again, this is such an autistic coded moment that I, an autistic person, had the exact same interpretation as Aziraphale. I had never noticed, until I read this take, that Crowley could've meant anything other than "you don't know how to drive" lol. Aziraphale was being himself here. His true confident unmasked self. Bc Crowley allows him that. Bc Crowley makes him feel like he can. He wasn't pretending or intentionally misinterpreting or manipulating anyone. Assuming the absolute worst of him bc he interpreted something in a literal way is anti-autistic bias. Assuming the worst of him bc he doesn't use the same code as you to communicate is ableism. Assuming his decision-making logic is invalid bc of the way he acts when unmasking is both.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Dean Winchester Drabbles/One Shots

All the links travel to ao3!

updated October 16 2024

Main Masterlist

Adoration || Summary: it’s no secret Dean adores her.

Baby, I'm Yours || Summary: When news of your pregnancy comes to light, Dean rushes to your aid.

Bold Statements || Summary: mercenary work has its perks.

Broken Weddings || Summary: Dean misses your wedding to go on a hunt with Sam

Could Happiness Last? || Summary: Dean holds his child for the first time.

Daddy's First || Summary: Dean dreams of having a baby with you.

Demonic Taunts || Summary: Winchester brothers were psychotic in their own rights.... it seemed as though they'd gotten off on the fact that you were being tortured.... maybe so.

Drinks With Demons || Summary: looking for demons doesn't end to well for you.

Ever Play Tag, Darling? || Summary: Ever played tag with adrenaline running through your veins?

The Falling of Icarus || Summary: Dean winchester will do annything and every to take down Crowley. So when one of Crowley's supporters come to him in a time of desperation, Dean does anything he can to take it.

Forevermore Revenge || Summary: Years ago, you'd witnessed the murder of your parents. After tons of consoling and peace of mind, you decide to finally have a chat with the man who did the deed. It wasn't at all what you'd expected.

In the Lonely Shadows || Summary: Crowely's always there to help convince you everything's going to be okay after Dean leaves with Lisa & Ben.

It's Going to Be Okay || Summary: you’re stressed about the apocalypse

Leather Confessions || Summary: By reading your journal, Dean finds out a secret of yours

Little Pet Shop || Summary: After gathering the shopping list, you and Dean run out to grab some things, only for you to convince Dean to stop at a nearby pet store.

Losing Control || Summary: You’d never tell a soul where Sam was being tortured.

Love of the Rivaling Seaboard || Summary: After being at sea for months at a time, you'd never expect to see your 'rival' at the docks with your crew...however the reunion is anything but hostile. [tumblr link]

Miscommunication || Summary: you left the bunker after overhearing a conversation with the Winchester brothers.

Mourning You || Summary: are you a demon or human?

Never Again || Summary: he was still normal… right?

Never Be Yours Again || Summary: dean runs into his ex partner on a hunt in a hotel. (Male!reader)

No Love For You || Summary: Dean knows exactly where it hurts….

Not Your Time || Summary: when you can't find Dean, you go looking for him, only to come to find your worst nightmare.

Patience With Love || Summary: Dean comes home feeling sullen about the loss of his favorite patient.

S.O.S. || Summary: you find out Dean had said yes to Michael after all…. [TUMBLR LINK]

See You Again || Summary: When dean turns into a demon, you make the ultimate sacrifice…

Sleeping Cuddles || Summary: One morning laying next to Dean.

Snuggles || Summary: Dean holds his newborn baby in his arms while you watch in amazement.

Something Wicked This Way Comes || Summary: Living as a witch isn’t as fun as you’d think.

Sunshine in Darkness || Summary: You always loved waking up next to Dean

A Thousand Years || Summary: Happiness never lasts

Traitors Everywhere || Summary: You try and find dean before he kills the innocent

Trusted Loss || Summary: Dean finds out you cheated on him with lucifer.

Wedding Dates || Summary: Dean aks you to pretend to be his date at his father’s wedding.

Worrisome || Summary: you went out for groceries only to be rescued by Dean after being captured by a pack of werewolves.

Your Savior Will Come || Summary: you run to your best friend for help after you escape your abusive boyfriend dean.

[time-travelling-chaos]

Aziraphale and autism representation: episode 1

So, I was rewatching Good Omens recently, and I wanted to come back on how Aziraphale is represented as autistic in the show. I especially want to focus on the positive representation here, what makes me happy about it and how I see myself (and other autistic people can see themselves as well) in it. I'm probably going to go way too much into small details here, and end up analysing every scene where he is present (but to be fair, an autistic person is always autistic, whatever they are doing even if it's not always visible). And yeah, I'm probably going to be projecting a tiny bit here.

So, let's start with the first episode here, and especially, let's start at the beginning:

When we first see Aziraphale it is at the moment he meets Crowley and the conversation starts like this:

Crowley: That went down like a lead balloon Aziraphale: Yeah. *Laughs* Sorry what was that? Crowley: I said 'Well that went down like a lead balloon' Aziraphale: Yes, yes, it rather did.

There are two points that I find interesting here, about the way Aziraphale reacts to what Crowley says. He doesn't understand or hear the question right away, but still reacts to it before asking Crowley to repeat. One of the ways I read it is processing issues that often happen with autism. Sometimes, it simply takes time to process or to understand and information that has been given (and it has happened to me so many times, asking someone to repeat something to only realise what they have been saying when they start repeating it). Plus, here Aziraphale doesn't actually seems to realise that he has missed the information right away, it takes him a few seconds to do so. And sure, this can happen to everyone, but it happens more often with neurodivergent people, so it's a nice touch. The good thing about that as well, is the reaction of Crowley. He isn't upset, he simply repeats what he just said, and the conversation keeps going. This way of processing information is shown again later, when Crowley says 'it would be funny if we both got it wrong' and Aziraphale chuckles first (because it is objectively funny here) and only then realises the implications of it. [I'll insist here, but none of that means that Aziraphale is stupid. He is, it has been said over and over, a really intelligent being, I'll come back to it later.]

The second interesting point though is about masking. I'll come back to it later, because it's not the most interesting instance of it, but his first reaction to the question, is to pretend that he understood, to pretend that things are ok, and that he was following the conversation correctly, to not show that he didn't understand. And once again it's something that I do a lot. I miss pieces of information all of the time, because I didn't hear it properly, or wasn't focused or simply didn't understand something. And people get easily annoyed by that, plus it can be exhausting sometimes to ask to repeat all the time, so pretending to have heard something, and continuing like nothing happened is also a thing that I'll do quite often.

Now, one of the most visible things here, is the relation that Aziraphale has with eye contact. He makes eye contact with Crowley, plenty of times. But also (and this one also applies to Crowley to some extent), they spend a lot of the conversation not looking at each other.

And this is something that happens often in the show, when they are discussing, they don't always look at each other. It's more visible when Aziraphale is uncomfortable about something, or when he need time to think about something, he'll simply look away for some time, to give himself some time to rest and think properly.

Now, one of of the things I love about him, is his moral sense, and the way he cares. A common autistic trait is a strong sense of justice, but it means, most of the times, having your own sense of justice. And Aziraphale definitely has his own, that doesn't align with Heaven's one. He gives his flaming sword away to protect humanity, without hesitating a second. He doesn't want to kill anyone, not if he can avoid it. He is a strong character, and a protector and I love him for that.

Another thing about him, that can also be seen in that first scene, is that he has a tendency to overthink things. He clearly spent a lot of time worrying about the consequences of giving his sword away before talking to Crowley. While, that, by itself is not a positive trait, it is on that I love seeing in characters, because it is something that needs to be shown and discussed as well.

Now, the next scene where we see Aziraphale is the sushi scene, which shows a completely different side of him. Here, he is relaxed, and doing something he absolutely loves. I adore this part the way it shows the care he has for small things, the small ritual that he follows before eating, how it is shown that it is part of his habits/routine. It's a place he his familiar with, and that he loves. And the specific way he loves it. He takes time to do so, time to enjoy the smell, to care and love things slowly. And this is something I wish I'd let myself do more. Take the time to do things slowly, to fully appreciate them. And of course, that scene pictures the care and love for familiarity, for sameness, for small rituals, not in a boring way but in a caring and comforting way.

And then Gabriel arrives, and his expression changes, he becomes more nervous. And he stops talking freely. There is here a really nice parallel to make between autism masking and Aziraphale's relationship with Heaven. Autism masking is a way to protect yourself by trying to fit in a neurotypical society. And the way Aziraphale acts in Heaven, or in presence of Gabriel is extremely similar to that. He becomes nervous, and careful of what he is saying. Then we have this discussion

Gabriel: Why do you consume that? Aziraphale: It's sushi. It's nice. You dip it in soy sauce Aziraphale: It's what humans do.

And several things can be said about that. First, Gabriel's question wasn't really a question, more of a disguised insult here, to which Aziraphale replies as if it was a literal question from him, which does show some literal thinking. It's not the only instance of that, and a similar reaction will happen later in the discussion with Crowley about Warlock

Crowley: If there was no boy... Aziraphale: But there is a boy. He is right there.

Then, the way he talks about sushi. He is hurt that Gabriel doesn't like sushi, and he starts explaining what it is giving a tiny piece of information about it, and his face completely light up as he does. Food and especially certain type of food such as sushi are definitely one of his special interests, and it makes him really happy. He wants to talk about it, and he wants his interest to be appreciated. But then, he realises that it's not something Gabriel approves of, and hides his own feelings, stop talking about it, and try to justify it, to make his love acceptable (It's what humans do). And, ouch, this hurts. Having to mask your own interest when they are not deemed acceptable or, because you are talking 'too much' about it and it's 'not interesting' is absolutely a common experience of autism, and it is often heartbreaking.

Now, I don't really want to go into details in the relationship between Aziraphale and Heaven, because as I said I would like to focus more on the positive and on the parts that I find relatable, and also because it's a complex relationship and I'm not in Aziraphale's head, but I feel the need to say a few things about it.

Does Aziraphale have faith in Heaven? It's a bit of a complex question here. Plenty of times, he is shown talking about Heaven in what can be seen as positive (Heaven will finally triumph over Hell, we're the good guys). But he is also shown hating it, going directly against it (I don't like it anymore than you do...). He knows that the other Angels are, for most of them (not counting Muriel here), not good, and he is always careful around them. When we see him in Heaven, he has a tense face, makes small, constrained smiles, keeps masking and keeping his thoughts to himself, not trusting them. So where exactly does he stand with Heaven? I do believe that, at least in that season, he still has some faith in God, if not in any of the other angels, as he will end up praying to Her at some point, but there are other factors to take into account when analysing this relation. [Also I'm only focusing on the first season/ first episode here, I'm not going to the end of S2 at all here, which is a completely different topic]

First of all, liking the idea of something does not mean that you will like the thing as it is. To take a personal example here, I love academia. Except I don't. I love the idea of academia, the idea of public research, of being able to learn and to transmit knowledge. But academia is a shitty place. So, so much people are sexists and racists, (queerphobic as well, even if less perceived usually), and a lot of my friends have horror stories of their own about it. A lot of people are burnt-out, tired, it's a system that asks you to work relentlessly to get a chance to survive, in which a lot of people spend more time looking for money to work that actually working. Academia is absolutely awful but the idea of academia is amazing.

Then, as I mentioned it before -and this is the point that I really want to mention here- Heaven is associated to masking. And yeah, here, I know some people have mentioned that Heaven can check on him any time, meaning that he has to keep up appearances, but that's not exactly relevant to what I want to say here. Masking, when done for a long time, becomes a part of who you are, and you sometimes forget a part of who you are without it. For a long time, I used to go back home after my day and not being myself either, acting as if there was still people around me. Because, the rest of the time it's what keeps you safe. So you keep doing it without realising. Sometimes, I catch myself stimming or doing something I like when I'm alone, and I stop myself because it's not something you're supposed to be doing. Masking, when done for a long time, becomes somewhat a part of what you are, even when you are alone and safe.

And in a very similar fashion, it takes a lot of time to unlearn things. Not necessarily masking, but things that you learn from your family, you relatives, and you later realise were incorrect. I don't know how much (if to any extent) autism impacts that, but on some occasions, it had taken me years to manage to unlearn stuff (and some I still struggle with). And it's extraordinarily frustrating, both for you and for the people around you and sometimes hurtful as well. Now, Aziraphale has been with Heaven for thousand, even millions of years, it would make sense that some things stayed in his head. [Now, because I have seen that too many times, NO, he doesn't need to violently realise that Heaven is bad, he know it. In a similar way, I don't need to be let's say screamed at for masking, because it would only trigger the opposite effect. Aziraphale needs to be free from Heaven and some time to heal from it.]

Also, Aziraphale doesn't have any other option than Heaven at the moment (here in S1). Things are going to be destroyed and he will be stuck in Heaven, one way or another. So, maybe a part of it is simply him, trying to convince himself that there is good in Heaven because he doesn't have a choice.

Now, I don't want to say any of these are true, or try to analyse that relationship in more details, those are just a few points that I wanted to mention here, because they are (at least the part about masking) relevant to the rest of the discussion about autism so I'll stop there because there would be so much more to discuss and analyse, but that's not the topic of this post.

But as I was on the topic of Heaven, I'm going to do a small skip forward before going back to a linear discussion of the episode, and talk about that conversation:

I am an angel, you are a demon, we're hereditary ennemis. Get the behing me fool fiend! After you.

Now, I love this sentence, because it says a lot about his relationship with Heaven. He knows Heaven's rules, but he also knows when and when not to follow them. Of course, him and Crowley are enemies, that's how Heaven sees them. But they are also friends, that's how they constructed their own relationship. To some extend, it reminds me of the Don't Play With Liquid Nitrogen moment. [And before I go any further in my explanation, I'll emphasise on that: DO NOT PLAY WITH LIQUID NITROGEN, it doesn't matter whatever I say next, DO NOT PLAY WITH LIQUID NITROGEN GUYS].

When I was doing an internship in my second year of bachelor, one of the person I was working with started to show me and another student something, and told us that we were not supposed to play with liquid nitrogen, while himself splashing so of it around. The thing is, liquid nitrogen is dangerous, but when you know how to do it, you can touch it for a few seconds without getting burnt. And here it is a bit of a similar situation. By simply following the rules, they shouldn't interact, let alone be friends. But they've been there for long enough to properly understand the situation, and to know they can follow their own rules instead of Heaven and Hell's ones.

Now, back to the rest of the episode. After the scene with Gabriel, we next see Aziraphale in the bookshop. He is putting up his coat on the hanger, and while doing that, he is humming along with the classical music in the background. Here, he is at home, a place where he can be himself, do whatever he likes. And I love that we see him stim along with the music. We see him stim plenty of times during the show (with the music, when he eats...) and it shows that it's a part of who he is. And most importantly, it's never shown negatively or mocked, and yeah, it's just so great to see a character stimming (and I'll add: stimming in a non-cliché way. Everyone's stims are different and do not always fit the cliché representation that most people have of it) and enjoying doing so, in moments of relaxation and happiness.

And in the second part of that scene, the phone rings, and he is visibly annoyed. He likes the quiet, doesn't like been around people (even if he loves humanity and people themselves) and doesn't like unexpected things to happen. And thus, he also immediately goes to an automated script instead of starting a conversation (I'm afraid we're quite definitely closed).

Now, I'll take the opportunity to mention the bookshop itself, because I absolutely love it. To be fair, it would be one of my dream place in the world, but that's not the topic here.

The bookshop is such a comforting place. The lights are dim and it's quiet (despite the outside of it being in a crowded place, so that probably took a miracle), which makes it a dream to relax and avoid overstimulation. But also, it's a place where he stores everything related to another of his special interests: books (and also wines, and other things he loves). So books are a special interest that I share with him, so of course, it's something that I means a lot to be, but to be able to be surrounded by so much of things you love, with music you love in the background, it's simply amazing , and I'm repeating myself here, but it's absolutely a dream place to be. Plus, going back to the representation part, it's so, so important to see special interests shown as they are. Once again, not in a cliché way (and by saying that, I have absolutely nothing against special interests that can be considered more cliché (look a me right now, writing an essay on two of my current ones, autism and Good Omens)) but simply them being things that people can usually enjoy, but to a much strong extent in Aziraphale's case. And once again, it's never here to be made fun of, simply to be shared and appreciated.

Something notable as well about Aziraphale is his posture. He sits in a very straight way, that doesn't seems comfortable. Now, autistic people tend to have more the opposite problem, which is to have bad posture. But a usual one is also a notable sign as well. But also, his posture when walking is interesting.

He is holding his hands close to his body, and most of the time is stimming once more, with his hands (or perhaps with his ring as well). And this type of posture, is so, so nice to see. When I was younger, I had the tendency to hold my arms around my stomach, in a way that was a bit similar to the way Aziraphale is holding himself in the picture above. And, of course, I got scolded and criticised for it, until I stopped doing so. So seeing Aziraphale having a similar posture, and knowing the type of comfort it can bring, and how this type of contact is important, makes me really happy.

Now, I'm diverting a bit from the topic for a second here, but there is an interesting parallel to make between Aziraphale's posture, and the one of the other angels:

When we look at the angels in Heaven, they all hold their hands in front of them, but it's in a tense way trying to show authority and rigor, while for Aziraphale, it's in a more relaxed way, and the goal for him is comfort. It's similar, but it's also so different, and it creates and interesting contrast between Aziraphale and the other angels.

And when I'm talking about the posture, I'd also like to mention the vocabulary. Aziraphale's vocabulary is peculiar, old-fashioned, but it's also really precise. Now, that is not something I particularly relate to, but a lot of autistic people do tend to have a very specific and precise vocabulary to communicate their ideas in the clearest way possible, and I like that this is something we can find in Aziraphale as well.

Quickly after the discussion between Aziraphale and Crowley, they discuss going out for lunch, and mention the last time that happen, and start discussing the reign of terror, to which Aziraphale replies 'We had crepes'.

And while he does so, his face absolutely lights up. Now, I've seen people mentioning the fact that Aziraphale doesn't really show (or worst doesn't really have) emotions, but this scene is so much the opposite of that. When he is talking about something he love, he is so expressive and his love for it is so visible. And I love seeing that, seeing the love for special interests being accepted and represented in such a positive way. Now, when talking about emotions, there is a sharp contrast between this scene and the previous one, where they were discussing about Heaven where he kept his face neutral. Having a neutral face is something that is often seen as one of the characteristics of autism, but it's not fully true. First of all, it can be related to masking (and I've already discussed the relationship between Heaven and masking here) but also, it usually depends a lot on the situation, and when autistic people are talking about their interests, they can, in fact, be very expressive, as this can be seen here with Aziraphale.

Another thing that I love about that scene is how he connects the discussion to one of his interests. Now, another characteristic of autism is to see patterns between things, and for a long time, I thought this didn't quite applied to me. But it does, and usually in the way it's shown here with Aziraphale. When I have a special interest, I have a tendency to find way to connect everything to it, to make links between ordinary things and my interest, and that was a really cool thing to see here.

And now the dinner scene. I've mostly already discussed everything happening in the scene before, but I'll just say it again, because it shows that those things are constants in Aziraphale's character, and not a one time thing. First is his love for food, that we can see there once more. Then he is once more stimming after eating. And also, he is finishing eating much after Crowley already finished his meal. He takes his time, takes the time to really savour the things he loves, and I love that for him.

Another thing that I want to mention, is his gardener disguise (and much later in the show, his newspaperman disguise). It is, in both cases, so exaggerated, and shows a lot about how he comprehends the world. It's something that I can connect to the idea of learning how to be human only from what you see in shows and books, and that's something a lot of autistic people can related to. (And of course, this rarely works in real life, the same way that it seems odd in the show).

There is another interesting point to mention, and that's questions. When we think about Good Omens and questions, we directly think about Crowley, and him asking questions. But in the show, at least in that first episode, Aziraphale is the one asking a lot of questions. Especially about how precisely things will happen.

Won't people remark on the sudden appearance of a huge black dog? His parents for a start?

He needs precise information to know how things will happen and to be able to prepare for what will happen, and that, once again, is a strong autistic trait. (I could also discuss about the fact of Heaven not liking questions, and autistic people usually being criticise when asking questions to understand clearly what to do, but I think that would be going a bit too far in the analysis here.) Still, I love seeing the way he understands the world, and the way he sees the potential issues that could arise. And also, there is that scene with Crowley, that I particularly relate to.

Aziraphale: If he comes to his full powers, how will we stop him? Crowley: This won't happen. Aziraphale: *quick annoyed smile*

And this scene is important, because it shows the difference of what autistic people can expect when the ask a question, and what other people understand. Here Crowley tries to reassure him, and Aziraphale gets slightly annoyed, because it was not what he needed. This is a situation I've been here before, and when I ask this type of question (because at the same time I'm overthinking and I need to plan how I'll act and have a plan) people offer reassurance. And this is rarely helpful to handle the situation, because in that type of case, what I need is answers (or at least something like 'we'll figure it out'. Because things can go wrong, and I need to be prepared for this eventuality as well). And yeah, I really like the scene for showing that discrepancy between what is needed by autistic people, and the answer that other people usually provide.

One more of Aziraphale's special interests is magic, and it has quite an important part in the show.

As it's the case with all of the times we see special interest, we also see Aziraphale being extremely happy with it, and his face always lighting up. But this one is a bit different because he is bad at it. When he does magic, he is clumsy, and drops things and fails most of the time. And that's great, for two different reasons. First of all, clumsiness, and poor space management is often a part of autism, and it's one that is rarely shown or represented, so it's something that I like to see. But, and most importantly, it shows that you don't need to be good at something to enjoy it, and this, by itself is amazing. And it's especially great in the context of special interest, where once again, one of the clichés is that autistic people have to know everything and to excel at their interets, which can end up putting a lot of pressure on people (also as some autistic people, myself included, are extremely perfectionists). So seeing him simply enjoying it without being good at it is refreshing here, and helpful as well.

I'm now going to very quickly mention that conversation when the Hellhound doesn't arrive

Aziraphale: Wrong boy Crowley: Wrong boy

Simply because I've discussed earlier in the post about processing issues, and about how it had nothing to do about Aziraphale's intelligence. Well, here is a perfect example of it, because this time, just after learning about the situation he is able to have a good understanding of the situation, and, if that's completely obvious for us, it is much less to them.

And I'm now going to conclude with that sentence said by Aziraphale at the end of the episode: Welcome to the end times.

I don't have any specific analysis behind that one, I just happen to particularly love it and I wanted to share it once more.

And to conclude a bit more with that analysis of the first episode, I absolutely love how Aziraphale is depicted in the show. He is a strong and caring character, but also a very complex one. I find it really great that his character is able to show the good and the part parts of autism, and also, that it never turns any of it as a joke, nor goes strongly in the clichés. So, yeah, I absolutely love him.

So at first I was planning to do a similar analysis for every episode, but I had not realised how much time and energy this would cost me. I really loved doing it though, so I might continue, but I'm not making any promise here.

[strangesthirdeye]

Little star (Ineffable husbands x toddler! Reader)

Summary: Just two celestial beings taking care of their toddler who is bored.

Warning: toddler, sweet, Aziraphale in shock, Crowley is chill, The age of the reader may be in 1 or 2 years, two hubby is romantic, fluff. Plants. Pretend that ep 6 never happen, Az and Crow is married!

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"She shouldn't be near any books here.. It's- It's dangerous!" Aziraphale reasoned with a worried expression on his face. Well, he tried to give an excuse so that his book wouldn't be damaged by you actually because he loved his book more than himself. Huh.

Crowley groaned. "Ngk- she wants your attention, Angel. You're always devoted to reading books. Just let her spend time with you if you don't want her near your books" Crowley picked you up from behind.

Your expression changed to stunned then you happily cheered as your daddy picked you up. You like it when your daddy picks you up. He is very tall and the moment he picks you up, you can see the view at your daddy's height. It is quite different from your papa. Papa usually hugs you tightly and it's quite comfortable and warm for you, making you always sleep in his arms. It is very comfortable like sleeping on a cloud.

"well, you see, Crowley. I have work to complete but not only just reading, but I need to settle a little message from Maggie about the black disk I ordered from her. It seems like the things I need will take a long time to arrived. Why don't you umm.. take care of her for a while after that we can enjoy hot chocolate together after I finish this work." Aziraphale suggested to his husband.

Crowley grumbled then adjusted your position in his hand that was about to fall. You smiled widely in Crowley's hand and rested your head on Crowley's shoulder.

"I'm bored" you said flatly then sighed with boredom.

"You better finish your work quickly, angel." Crowley muttered then walked into the living room of the bookshop with you in his arms.

Aziraphale just shook his head a few times then put on his glasses and continued writing a message to Maggie.

As soon as the two of you arrived in the living room of the bookshop, Crowley sauntered over to the couch and placed you on the couch. You sat up straight looking at your daddy with innocent eyes. Crowley just grumbled and slumped into the seat in front of you lazily.

You blinked a few times then grumbled like your daddy and slumped onto the couch lazily mimicking the actions Crowley was making. Crowley noticed what you did in front of him.

"You sure as hell are bored aren't you?" Crowley stated at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Papa doesn't want to play with me and you just sit on the chair. I am so bored" you complained in your small voice.

Crowley was silent for a moment. It's true tho. Crowley just sits around all day while Aziraphale is just busy with his book leaving you alone to play in the bookshop. No wonder you start showing your behavior to show that you need the attention of both of them. You are bored and they have no time at all to play with you. They were busy with their own affairs after Jim's case was over or should I say Gabriel's case. You love Jim not Gabriel. He's fun and a bit weird but fun to play with. He always treats you like a friend and sometimes Jim is a bit naive to follow whatever you say because to him you are a great friend. But after Jim's case is over, you have no friends to play with.

Crowley straightened himself to look at you with sympathetic eyes under his tinted glasses. "oh, Star. come here" Crowley opened his hand to you.

You quickly ran into Crowley's arms and hugged him tightly. Crowley's hands then hugged tightly around your small body and stroked gently. Crowley leaned his head and kissed your hair softly.

"Fancy a quick journey to the plant room?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Yell at them, Star. They're just stupid plants that don't know how to grow well" Crowley encouraged you, who was held by him facing the plant.

You grumbled angrily while swinging your arms in the air. "IS DAT A SHPOT?! IS IT? HUH?! YOU'VE MADE DADDY DISHAPPOINTED!"

"again, Star. Now they're afraid of you. Good!" Crowley grinned proudly. You are still in his arms facing the plants with a furious face.

"No more SHPOT OR I WILL BURNT YOU!" your face turned red with how angry you were.

Yup, you are indeed the daughter of Crowley and Aziraphale but more to Crowley when it comes to plants or how lazy you are. But your interests and things you like are the same as Aziraphale. Sometimes you are friendly with people you know and sometimes you are grumpy with strangers. So basically you are a mix of demon and angel as a result of Crowley and Aziraphale's miracle. Tadaa.

The plants there trembled in fear. You sighed heavily and looked at the plant with sharp eyes. If looks could kill, the plants there would have withered and died long ago. Crowley chuckled and turned your body to face him. Crowley then hugged you tightly and kissed your head.

"Good job, star" Crowley complimented proudly.

You looked at your daddy with emotion and pressed your face to his chest tightly with a thousand 'thank yous' to him.

"Crowley? what's that noise?"

Crowley turned and looked at Aziraphale with surprise. "well-"

"please don't tell me that you encouraged her to yell at the plant again." Aziraphale massaged the bridge of his nose.

"She's bored, Angel. It's not wrong if you want to spend time while she's bored, isn't it?" Crowley responded as he walked closer to his husband with you in Crowley's arms.

"no it's not wrong, dear. but you shouldn't encourage her to do that. It's enough for you alone to yell at the plants but not with Y/n. She should encourage the plants properly and not get angry at them all the time"Aziraphale advises Crowley.

Crowley grumbled and walked away with you in his arms. You leaning your head on your Daddy's shoulder lazily. Aziraphale sighed and followed Crowley from behind.

"it's seems to me that this little poppet is a bit bored, isn't she?" Aziraphale poked your cheek with his finger.

"No shit, Angel" Crowley cursed lowly.

You gasped and patted your daddy on the shoulder with your small hand. "Papa! Daddy said bad words!"

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with an unpleasant look on his face then took you from Crowley's hand and hugged you tightly to his chest.

'come on!" Crowley argued.

Aziraphale ignored him and cooed at you. "now then, Y/n. How about we go relax and drink hot chocolate while listening to classic songs.. what do you say?"

"Can I have marshmallows too, Papa?" you asked for permission while looking at Aziraphale's face with stars in your eyes.

"What's the magic word, dear?" Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at you.

"Can I have some marshmallows too, please?" you corrected.

"yes you may, my dear.. Good girl. let's go" Aziraphale praised you and walked towards the kitchen leaving Crowley there to make hot chocolate before he snapped his fingers and automatically the classic song started playing.

Crowley just stared. Then started following Aziraphale from behind.

"Can I have hot chocolate too? with marshmallows." Crowley said.

"magic word, Crowley" Aziraphale replied.

"oh, come on.." Crowley paused. "please"

Aziraphale looked at Crowley and approved. "very nice"

[funkytownwinchester]

SPN Gif Masterlist

Parallels

Jack and Cas - "I love you. I love you all."

Sam and Dean - "I can't do this alone."

Dean - S01 vs. S12

Misc (Actors)

Jensen and Jared pose for the camera

Jensen and Jared dancing/striking poses in blooper reels

Jensen's smile

Jensen winks at the camera

Jensen laughing in bloopers - part 1

Jensen laughing in bloopers - part 2

Jared laughing in bloopers

Misha laughing in bloopers

Jared looking good

Dancing in the cage

"I've got dialogue."

Jared's social media joke

Jensen squishing Jared's arm

Jensen throws a bottle at Jared's head

Misc (Characters)

Out of context reaction images

Sam helping Dean through moments of anxiety

Dean cradling Sam's face

Dean's nicknames for Cas

Crowley poses

Dean opens Sam's beer

Cas flirts with the camera

Dean's little wiggle

Cas and Dean dancing

Smiling family

Dean fights a pillow

"Why were you praying to him?" / "'cause he's my friend."

Dean eating a powdered donut

Dean clings to Sam

Dean's knees stop working

Dean in a vest

Dean tackles Sam

Click 'keep reading' for a list of all my gifs, separated by seasons.

Season 1

S01E01 - "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

S01E01 - Sam and Dean interview two girls in a cafe

S01E01 - Dean's boobs

S01E05 - Dean smashes the mirror terrorising Sam

S01E14 - Dean being a big brother to Sam

Season 2

S02E03 - "Lighten up, Sammy!"

S02E04 - Sam and Dean, the grief counselors

S02E09 - Dean refuses to let anyone hurt Sam

S02E10 - Ava attends therapy

S02E15 - Conjoined twins

S02E19 - Dean gets his mugshot taken

S02E19 - Dean and Sam bicker in front of Deacon

S02E20 - Dean escapes his djinn-cursed reality

S02E22 - "You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Season 3

S03E03 - Sam loses his shoe

S03E06 - Dean loses it when Bella has his car towed

S03E07 - Dean gets fed on and tossed around

S03E11 - "Rise 'n' shine, Sammy!"

S03E11 - Dean asks if a bra he found is Sam's

S03E11 - Sam makes it to Wednesday for the last time

S03E14 - Dean's little eyebrow wiggle

Season 4

S04E08 - Dean says 'please'.

S04E10 - Alistair chokes Cas

Season 5

S05E03 - Cas calls Raphael a little bitch

S05E07 - Dean's happy dance

S05E08 - Son of a bitch

S05E14 - Endverse!Cas laughing at everything that pisses endverse!Dean off

S05E17 - "Don't ask stupid questions."

S05E22 - Cas, the little angel

S05E22 - Dean's not gonna let Sam die alone

Season 6

S06E03 - Dean prays to Cas

S06E11 - Bobby's suicide joke

Season 7

S07E02 - Dean talking Sam down during hallucinations

S07E09 - Dean gets drugged by a sandwich

S07E21 - Cas giggles

S07E21 - The aftermath of Cas taking on Sam's trauma

Season 8

S08E04 - "Do I really say awesome a lot?"

S08E05 - Benny bickering with Cas

S08E10 - Cas is tormented

S08E20 -Dean asks Sam to punch him

Season 9

S09E05 - Dean hopes to interrogate a canine witness using a spell that lets him speak with animals

S09E11 - Sam the guinea pig

S09E11 - "It's the bloody mark of Cain!"

S09E15 - Thinman tries to kill Dean

S09E16 - "You don't know what it's like to be human!"

S09E22 - "I got this."

S09E22 - Cas and word play

Season 10

S10E02 - Demon!Dean looking hot.

S10E05 - "I'm gonna Barbra Streisand this bitch."

S10E06 - Murphy's law

S10E08 - Dean's pretend job

S10E14 - Dean collapses on Sam's shoulder

Season 11

S11E03 - Cas collapses from the attack dog spell

S11E16 - Bobby asks if Rufus has ever been nice

S11E16 - Sam holds Dean

S11E19 - Dean teases Sam for smoking in college

S11E21 - Dean informs Sam that he's babbling

Season 12

S12E09 - Cas doesn't regret saving the Winchesters (part 1)

S12E10 - Cas doesn't regret saving the Winchesters (part 2)

Season 13

S13E08 - Someone insults Sam in front of Dean

S13E18 - Ketch cares for Dean

S13E16 - "Be like Elsa; let it go."

Season 14

S14E03 - Dean makes fun of Sam's beard.

S14E04 - Sam's messed up childhood.

Season 15

S15E01 - Dean tells a joke while cleaning Sam's wound

S15E08 - Cas being sarcastic

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 2!

I'm so glad you all are as hyped about this idea as I am!! ^_^ So you know, I've been reading every Other Idea, every reblog, and I am going to use your input to inform my choices going forward. This is OUR fic, after all :)

//Edited to include title

Beginning || Previous || Next

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

That FREAKING coffee. Your eyes narrow. Everyone is still in shock, no one has spoken yet. You use the hesitation to grab the coffee out of the Metatron's hands and chug it back all in one go. It's the perfect temperature for drinking. Because of course it is. You're vaguely aware of some sounds of protest from Metatron and Aziraphale, but they're monosyllabic, and don't need a response. That can wait till after you finish.

You pull the cup from your lips and exhale in an overly-dramatic fashion, and look at the Metatron. It tasted exactly like almond-flavoured coffee, and you still hate him. YUP. Good.

"I beg your pardon!" The Metatron gasps, his face glaring at you with fury behind his eyes. But, oh, you couldn't care less if you tried.

"Get. Out. Now," You say to him. Your eyes have figurative fire behind them, the rush of caffeine and adrenaline making you braver than you otherwise would be.

"Young person, have you any idea who you are ordering about? I think you'll find that you're of no authority to be making demands and that you would do best to see yourself out. Before you make any foolish mistakes," the Metatron's voice is cool like a spring creek, but you can hear the malice just below the surface; barely contained.

But here is the thing, my dear Reader, this is a self-insert fanfiction. And in this work of fiction you are brave and clever, and you have been grieving for everything this monster put our beloved Ineffable Husbands through for too long not to be very, very angry now that you have come face to face. And you are not about to let this go. Crowley and Aziraphale have spent so much time trying to defend the world, defend humans, defend those they don't even like! You'll be damned before you let them go undefended when you, yes you, with all your love for them and all your knowledge are standing right there. So defend them you shall. Someone has to. And right now no one else will.

"Do you," you begin after a moment, "have any idea who you are speaking to?"

For a moment, the Metatron looks taken aback. But only a moment, before his eyes grow cold again.

"I mean," you continue, "I just fell through the ceiling, and landed in front of you just as you were about to hand over that coffee. I don't know about you, but I can only think of one reason why that would have happened, and it has three letters."

In your peripheral vision you notice Muriel, counting on their fingers. Aziraphale chokes back a gasp. You can't see it right now, but you can FEEL Crowley's eyebrow from here. Metatron holds your gaze, not ready to give up just yet.

"If I were you, Metatron, I would pop on back to Heaven, and double-check a few things. Because, I mean, there must be a reason why I've been dropped here to interrupt you. Seems like your plan hasn't been...approved. Otherwise it would go forward as planned, yes?" Matching his arrogance is key here, and if you mess up, the consequences could be dire. You glance at your cuticles with an air of nonchalance. "Unless, of course, you presume to know better?" And to seal the deal, you raise your eyes in a sideways look that screams smug.

You've spent months reading meta analysis, character analysis, everything you can get your hands on about the final fifteen. You're pretty sure you have a solid enough grasp of the Metatron's character to pull this off. The main thing is to pretend you know what's actually going on, convince him that he doesn't, and buy some time.

Suddenly, your phone in your pocket buzzes four times, and your mouth tastes like salt. But, actually really pleasant salt. Like you just ate McDonald's french fries, or theatre popcorn. Something clicks into place in your mind.

"....Did you...just try to turn me into salt?"

Having spent months learning to read Michael Sheen's facial expressions, you see the Metatron's eyes shift through Surprise, then Curiosity, before landing on what you can only call Calculating.

So YUP for the salt. But apparently he can't touch you. Later, you tell yourself, we'll figure this out later. Get him out, and get him out now.

You take a step forward, herding him towards the door.

"It seems," you say to him, "That you have some things to clarify."

The Metatron huffs, and straightens his tie. "Indeed it does," he says, knives beneath the calm once again. "I shall return, Aziraphale, and when I do, I do hope we will have a chance to chat."

And so the Metatron leaves, as though it was his own idea. You follow him to the door. Oh, you shouldn't, but you just can't help yourself. And honestly, I don't think you should. You call to him as he walks away.

"And be careful with those questions, Metatron! We all know how THAT ONE goes, don't we?" And with that you slam the door.

While you're apologizing (very quietly and lovingly) to the bookshop door, you hear Crowley behind you.

"Nnnyeah, I have no idea what's going on, but I like this one."

You pull out your phone. There are five heart icons. Four that are full, and one that is just an outline. Oh. OH.

"FUCK," you say to yourself.

Now you look up. You're shaking like a leaf, but lucky for you, there's still a metric ton of adrenaline running through your system, allowing you to realize that you need to figure out what comes next.

Vote on This One too please (I'm only able to do one poll per post, so bear with me).

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[shallowseeker]

OKAY HERE WE GO

In a season that heavily hangs with issues of power dynamics and class, Sam meets his match in Rowena, and he immediately enters into a power struggle with her.

In his dogged pursuit TO FIX THE THING, Sam is becom like Magnus, like Mr. Cuthbert. In his trying to tame Rowena this season, he becomes the most MEN OF LETTERS he have ever seen him:

The Men of Letters is the masculine-stereotyped "Warlock," the match to the often feminine-stereotyped Witch.

They hoard knowledge and manipulate others to do their dirty work. (Importantly: Because they've been hurt, and because they're afraid.)

We think back to the line in Paint it Black:

OLIVETTE: Hoarding unbelievable power for their own amusement. Smug, self-righteous bastards. The Men of Letters. ... ROWENA: I see the truth, and it’s pathetic. You let these Men Of Letters pillage the greatest trove of magical secrets in the world and did nothing.

///

We see in The Werther Project what happens when a MoL goes "bad:"

///

A Man of Letters isn't just a class divide here; it's set up to be Rowena's natural enemy.

The MAN OF LETTERS one of Rowena's symbolic bulls. Sam is a "bull" to her flaming "matador."

But when faced with him, Rowena doesn't know quite what she wants to do. Kill the bull? Subdue the bull?

Ride the bull?

///

Rowena can't help but be intrigued.

And ah, look. It's the symbolic family diner... They are flanked by checkerboards, not dartboards. For better or worse, The family diner is the Family Diner for a reason. I think it's notable that they're meeting here and not there. (You'd expect them to meet in a more neutral SPN space, like *bar/Roadhouse of Good Pals.")

Anyhoo, immediately we see that Sam doesn't balk at Rowena's monstrosity. He isn't even taken aback by her darkest of motivations/emotions:

She certainly looks taken aback.

When she looks at him, she sees an ugliness.

(Crucially, it is what DRIVES this ugliness that will really wind up drawing her closer to Sam in the end).

///

For now, they start trying to impress each other with their brains.

Her initial instinct is to flutter and try to impress him.

///

When she reveals she can't read the book in its present form without a codex, Sam immediately starts his power play, shutting the book.

This forces her to parry, and parry she does!

Flawlessly:

ROWENA: "You're desperate. You can stop pretending you're not."

As they talk business, both of their eyebrows rise, interested despite trying not to be:

*eyebrow raise*

///

She talks of a witch who was victimized, Nadya:

And this further underlines what will become their power struggle. Sam will become his worst self, putting the boot on her neck, becoming the worst kind of MAN OF LETTERS.

///

Later, Sam calls her, and she can't help it, but she's excited. She's quick to match brains with him, and what leaks out?

Her desperate need for friends that challenge her.

And he's intrigued, too, but the lure of their mutual dark ambition.

"Great. Thanks."

Sensing a GOODBYE, Rowena is startled to discover that she doesn't want him to hang up. (Rowena is, at heart, a loser who has to struggle making friends.)

She stammers, then she practically engages in a bit of HAIR TWIRLING HERE:

He shuts her down: "I'll take my chances."

She scoffs, disappointed.

///

Ultimately, she can't resist trying to goad and challenge Sam—to "Toro, Toro" him and try to tame what he represents.

We see Crowley do this, too. His play is to goad and mouth off, especially when he's bitten off more than he can chew and is trying to convince everyone that he's "the top in the relationship."

///

As for the rest of the episodes...

Sam's subconscious knows that witchcraft can be incredibly evil, but he can't help want to strive for ambition, for power, for hidden knowledge, for EVERYTHING. Sam is like a Solomonari in this way. The SCHOLOMONAR. (Tradition says they became the Devil's students, either being instructed by him, or becoming a servant to his commands It's actually a bit different when you get deeper,but that's at least the Westernized version of it.)

As Dean longs for a "simple" world of 24/7-360 total war where he does warfare "all he's good for" without consequence, Sam longs for a world where he can think and strive to achieve ANYTHING without consequence.

A world where Sam can admire Rowena's and Mr. Cuthbert's brains without feeling guilty:

ROWENA (figment): "I know what I'd said about your kind (Men of Letters), but oh. The man who came up with this? The craftsmanship of the box, the sadism of the spellwork... It's all so... deliciously baroque."

There is a direct line being drawn between Sam... and Magnus. (And Rowena, tangentially.)

In Sam's mindscape, he gets to do what he feels he is good for: the pursuit of knowledge. Dean is the ultimate soldier without the need for decision-making, and Sam wants to be the ultimate librarian without consequence.

With that in mind, he also wants to impress Rowena, to impress someone who's brain he found impressive:

He wants to crack a code with her. Together. To show her that he knows things, can figure out things.

But he's also in a (sexual) power struggle with her. Thus, the need for witch-killing bullets... and to see her in chains.

[sunderwight]

had a thought that crowley probably very rarely sleeps when there are any other beings about (he might pretend to sleep but not really do so if the situation calls for it), but a couple of times across the millennia he's fallen asleep in aziraphale's presence

aziraphale does not let on but it turns him to a massive pile of jelly to a dangerous degree

because there is crowley, hyper-vigilant, always active, cool and suave crowley letting himself be vulnerable in his presence, and he must feel very safe in order to do that when he doesn't even need to

I think it'd be one of those things that aziraphale would end up discouraging because he actually likes it too much. one of the reasons he cannot entertain the idea of cohabitation yet. because if that happened then crowley would sleep in the bookshop or aziraphale would be in the apartment while crowley was sleeping there, in the same place, where he was safe and sound and aziraphale could watch over him and how exactly is aziraphale supposed to pretend that he's not desperately in love with crowley if crowley is curled up all snug and sound in some blankets in their bedroom? how is he supposed to function?

but crowley interprets this as aziraphale just finding it kind of annoying and boring if he's asleep around him, so he tries not to be, and that's also part of the reason why crowley keeps his plants and himself in the bentley after he loses the apartment (but only part of the reason)

crowley thinks aziraphale gets put-out if he falls asleep around him (which is fine, makes sense, sleeping people are not good conversation partners or anything), meanwhile at some future point when they're safe and together aziraphale will probably rank reading in bed while crowley naps on him as one of his all-time favorite activities

[cheeseplants]

Chapter one: The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

I'm so excited to share my new WIP. It's already pre-written at 58k!

Tags: Sad Wet Cat Crowley, Flirting over planning permits, Parish Councils, Bickerflickering forever

---

Down-and-out Crowley moves to the sticks to save his late aunt's cottage from demolition, but when he finds out that Councillor Aziraphale Fell isn't quite so keen on the demolition he is supposed to be in charge of - the two of them scheme to save the cottage as they uncover that sometimes the key to the future lies in preserving the past.

However, when feelings bubble up, can their relationship survive if on the surface they have to pretend to be working against each other?

--- Excerpt

“Your aunt left you something in her Will.”

“Left me something? Money?” Crowley’s eyes lingered on the bills before he downed the expresso, and set about making another. 

“Something like that. There is a bit of a problem.”

And all he thought was of course, there always was. 

That was his life. He could see the Book of his Life: Anthony J. Crowley, gold-embossed and tied with a red ribbon. Inside, every page, the word: "but..."

He could have his flat in London, but he couldn’t afford it. He could find his dream job, but he’d get fired. He could fall in love—or at least think he had—but... A sharp pain shot through his chest, nausea rising before he pushed it back down.

"But" had been seared onto him since the day he was born.

Crowley stared at the strips of daylight peeking through the window, and the jeans crumpled on the floor. He had planned another carefully curated day of misery: reality TV, wine, sleep, repeat. This routine dulled the pain that sat in his chest like a fire that would never be extinguished.

Inside, the four walls held him close and safe, keeping the blaze at bay. But even he knew his ability to keep the flat was dwindling, what with the extortionate bills and sky-high rent in one of London’s most expensive neighbourhoods. It had seemed such a good idea to buy here when he was at the top of his game. He hadn’t anticipated the fall.

Yesterday he’d sloped back to the cornershop under the judgemental eyes of the shopkeeper who must have noticed the uptick in Shiraz sales over the past few weeks. Crowley bought two bottles, and a tub of ice-cream.

Two bottles of wine, he decided, seemed like the kind of thing someone with a partner or a friend might buy. Three is too much, and one is suspicious. One screams: 'I am home alone and filling my days with alcohol and sleeping'. Two gave the air of someone who might be sharing their life with someone; not that he wanted to do that again. 

Those bottles were riding around in his stomach this morning like a waltzer he wished he could get off.

Crowley pushed the receiver back up to his ear. “Wot something? Wot problem?” His head was too foggy for this today.

“I suggest you come in, Mr. Crowley.”

Read chap one here.

Thanks to the amazing @happynachohologram & @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon for their incredible beta!

@goodomensafterdark