#fallen!castiel x reader

[autistic-inmate]

SUPERNATURAL LUCIFER X FEM!READER

(Reader is referred to as sister)

- You joke around with Lucifer and your brother, Dean, doesn’t like it :)

fluff 😇

1.2k words

I walked into the room that my brothers were in, "Where's Clarence?"

"Not sure, said he had some angel business to deal with." Dean muttered as he continued to stare at his laptop screen. I sighed and fell down onto one of the chairs "I'm booorreedd." I whined and nobody said anything, "Ok I guess I'll go annnd.." I paused while I thought about what to do, "Find a case." Normally they would 'advise' not to because it could be dangerous on my own, but they didn't even look up. Maybe I should elaborate, "Actually you know what? I'm gonna go find a vamps nest." Ok they definitely wouldn't let me go alone. But I still got no answer.

"Ignore everything I just said, I can't be bothered. I think, I'm just gonna go talk to one of the angels." I hoped that would get their attention considering they dislike most of them. "Hey, I should go talk to the devil, I mean he's probably pretty lonely." Ok that must have gotten there attention. Nope, still nothing.

Alright well, "Lucifer. You know? Satan?" That caught their attention and Dean glared at me but I smiled innocently. Sam looked at me over his laptop, "What? Sorry, I'm just trying to figure this out and I feel like I haven't slept in years, did you say something about Lucifer? Has something happened?" I could tell I hit a bit of a nerve by mentioning his name but how else was I supposed to get their attention. "No, well yes I said I should go talk to him 'cause he's probably lonely." I smiled innocently at them again but they didn't look very happy.

"Don't even joke about that. I don't want you anywhere near him." I could tell Dean was serious but I didn't understand why. Well, I did, I knew why. He's killed people, he wanted Sam as a vessel, he tried to start the apocalypse and he is Satan. But I know a side to Lucifer that they don't, a side to him that's not all death and destruction.

I was about to speak but I felt the temperature drop. I saw the panic in Sams face and Dean reached for his gun by instinct. "You called, darling?" Oh joy, Lucifer is here.

"What a pleasant surprise." I turned to face him with the fakest, most cheesiest grin I could manage. "You were thinking off me so damn much that it basically came to me like a prayer, why were you thinking about me, Y/N?" He smirked as he walked closer to us and I rolled my eyes. "I was thinking about how much of an ass you are, my brothers here were agreeing." I smirked right back at him and he scoffed "I know you like me really and you enjoy my company more than anyone else's, you're not fooling anyone." He shrugged slightly like what he had just said was painfully obvious.

"Ok that's enough, I can't take it anymore. Lucifer what the hell are you doing here, really?" Dean looked pretty mad that I was joking around with the devil but who can blame me, he's quite funny when he's not trying to start world war three.

"You act like I'm about to try and start the apocalypse Deany, I mean c'mon, I'm totally over all that now." He smiled like he just told Dean he'd bought him some flowers and baked him a cake. "Right of course, I'm sorry for assuming the worst from the literal devil, you must've just popped in to give me chocolate and watch a movie with us." Dean spoke sarcastically and Lucifer pretended to be offended and shook his head. "Wow. I know you don't like me, but that was harsh. I mean, I really did come here to watch a movie. Not with you exactly, but that is the reason. I can't believe you think so lowly of me Deano." Lucifer matched Deans sarcastic tone and it just pissed my brothers off even more, meanwhile I found it to be good entertainment.

"First of all, stop adding letters onto my name. Secondly, if you mean that you came to watch a movie with my sister? You can forget it. I won't let you get anywhere near her." Aaaaaand protective brother mode is officially on. "I'm already near her." Lucifer scoffed as he walked closer to me and threw his arm around my shoulders. "Dude get your big ass arm off of me." I tried to shrug his arm off but he added another arm so he was giving me a really weird side hug, successfully trapping me in his arms.

However before I could complain anymore, a sudden gunshot echoes throughout the room and it makes me flinch. Lucifer let go of me with a grunt. "Ouch." He pouted like a child that didn't get his own way.

I turned to look at him and realised that Dean had shot him. "Was that really necessary, Dean? I can handle myself against big ole pouty satan over here." I felt him poke me at the insult so I looked back at him to see him still pouting and I giggled. "Yes. It was completely necessary. I told him that I wasn't gonna let him near you, Y/N. I don't like how close you two seem, all buddy-buddy and shit, it's not right. Has he got you under some sorta spell? Do you need help, Y/N? 'Cause I definitely do not have a problem with killing the devil himself." Dean looked between the two of us practically giggling like a pair of school girls.

"Yes Dean, he has me under a very powerful spell." He didn't look impressed with my sarcasm. "Whatever, but you hurt her and I swear I will find a way to end you." And with that promise he left the room. We both looked at Sam and it was pretty awkward for a second before he cleared his throat "Yeah, Well I- erm- I need to carry on with this, so.." He got up and walked out with his laptop.

"Wow. You know, you could be here to kill me and both of my brothers just left me to be murdered." I joked and turned around to face him.

"You know I'd never hurt you though, right? You are one of the very very few humans I can tolerate." His smirk was replaced with a genuine smile as he looked down at me. "I know." I nodded and it was quite for a moment as I looked at him, taking in his features. Damn, his eyes are so pretty and his hair looks so fluffy, I want to just run my hands through it so fucking bad.

"So," I cleared my throat like I was trying to get rid of the tension in the room. "What movie do you wanna watch, Luci?" My eyes widened slightly as I realised what I had called him, but it was too late, he had already heard it. "'Luci' huh?" I was about to start apologetically rambling before I noticed a grin spread across his face. "I like it, but only from you. I don't want some demon walking around calling me 'Luci ', it'll ruin my reputation." He chuckled, "Oh and I'm 99.9% sure that you forgot I can read your thoughts, your eyes are pretty too." His smirk was back as he cockily walked out of the room, leaving me stood on my own in embarrassment.

[adalwolfgang]

Could you make a little story for Castiel where he meets a young mute girl who communicates through ASL?

Castiel meeting and befriending a mute reader

warnings: Cursing, fluff, angsty (very little) A/n: I am not mute but I am familiar with people I know personally who are deaf and use sign language. Also, I have not watched supernatural in a good while so I don't remember what all powers angels have so some of these might be inaccurate from the show.

credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)

This was unexpected for the angel. One second, he's strolling around a town him, Sam, and Dean had stopped at to investigate a large number of murders that have been occurring to sitting on a swing set with a little girl sitting beside him in a park, making hand motions.

She was mute.

He didnt know what these hand motions meant but he was easily able to understand once he read her mind. It was as if she was saying what each meaning of the sign meant as she moved her hands and fingers without moving her lips. He could hear her voice but only in her own conscious.

"Where is your parents? Or guardian?" he asked as he tilted his head with curiosity and concern. The reminder of why he was there in the first place brought him out of his thoughts as worry soon became present on his face. It was safe for someone to be out here on their own, especially a young one at that.

A childish smile appears on your face as you quickly point over to a food truck a few feet away. Your guardian chatting with the owner, their back facing you. Castiel looks to where you were pointing before looking back over at you. The concern slowly leaving his features but not completely gone.

"You be careful when you are out of arms reach from your guardian. Understand?"

You bob your head up and down in response, giving him a thumbs up for more confirmation at his words. Castiel was still a little skeptical at the thought of whatever or whoever has been behind the killings find you and pick you off as a easy target. Many questions started appearing in his head. How would you scream for help? What if no one seen you get taken? What if you cant free yourself from their grasp?

You could see his brows furrow as his eyes drifting toward the dirt in thought. Whatever was on this strange man's mind must've been big as lines formed on his forehead and the corner of his eyes crinkled slightly. You place a hand on the trench coat he adored, even though it was summer time. You started rubbing the fabric between your fingertips, the action making Castiel look down at your hand and then at your face. You suddenly stop the action, staring into his deep colored eyes as well. You thought he had very beautiful eyes. This made a soft smile form on his lips which made your eyes widen. You didnt say that aloud did you? No, that's impossible. Unless?

'Are you a angel?' you signed, this time slower.

The smile on Castiel's face grows as he slowly nods his head, raising his index finger and putting in to his lips as if you both were sharing a secret. Before you could react, your name was shouted. You spun your head around to see your guardian walking over toward you, a hotdog wrapped in tinfoil in each hand. When they finally get close enough you sign,

'I made a friend'

"oh really?" they look around the park curiously before back down at you.

"Where is this friend of yours?"

You turn around expecting to see the man in the trench coat, but he wasn't there. The empty swing was slowly rocking back and forth but no one was there. A wave of confusion and sadness washed over you as your guardian just shrugged it off, taking a seat on the swing the stranger had been, handing you a hotdog.

Back at the bunker, Castiel was sitting in one of the many chairs in the library with his chin propped up on his hand. His back was slumped as he sat in thought. He wanted to protect you. He wanted to be there for you when you needed him. He wanted to be your friend. Dean and Sam finally came back, walking down the stairs and quickly spotting the angel they had been trying to contact.

"Hey man, where the hell did you go? You just wandered off and left us!" Dean was quick to jump on the angels case but he wasn't in the mood to hear any of it and quickly disappeared.

"The hell was that all about?" Castiel left the brothers both confused and concerned.

[lvvrmel]

CORRUPTION .ᐟ

DEAN WINCHESTER X ANGEL!READER

PAIRING: Human!Dean Winchester x Angel!Reader.

CONTENT WARNING: corruption, innocent!reader, slightly sleazy! dean, gn! reader, nsfw, smut, oral (dean receiving), mdni, 18+

SUMMARY: dean cant stop himself from corrupting your angel-like innocence.

>> word-count — 1.2k .ᐟ

.ᐟ not proofread .ᐟ

Dean had first met you through Castiel, both of you being angels who knew each other from Heaven. You had been tagging along with the Winchester brothers for an indefinite amount of time, occasionally dropping by to visit and help them out a bit.

Dean didn’t really care for you too much at first, although you eventually grew on him. Maybe a bit too much.

Your constant innocence and naivety was adorable in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to be the one to take that from you. Could you really blame him though? When you bat your eyelashes at him like that, what do you expect from him? He’s a simple guy, of course he’s gonna be attracted to a cute little thing like you.

Sam found Dean’s attraction to you fairly obvious; with his constant staring — not just your chest and backside but your wide eyes and glossy lips too, his never-ending flirting and teasing he continuously aimed towards you. Although, unlike Sam, you did not catch on to Dean’s relentless innuendos, no matter how often he said them and no matter how suggestive he made them. You were just too much of a pure and innocent angel.

Dean really looked forward to the times you’d randomly decide to drop by unannounced. But this time? When you’ve dropped by when he’s all alone? Dream come true for him. Getting you alone plays a huge part in his fantasies.

Dean and Sam had found a motel to stay at during a hunt, both of them in separate rooms that are just next door to each other, and Dean did not expect to get back from the bar and see you sat there on the centre of the bed. It was a nice surprise though.

He raises his eyebrows at the sight of you randomly visiting, shutting the door behind him while he keeps his gaze on you with that smug look on his face, running his hand through his hair as he makes his way over to you, speaking in his usual gruff tone. “Hiya, Sweetheart. What’re you doing here? Decided to drop by?”

Dean watches as you nod your head and smile slightly at him, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a small grunt. “Missed you, yknow, darlin’. Should come visit more. I’d love to see your pretty face more often.” He smirked, reaching over to gently pat your thigh with his hand.

Dean watches as you smile a little more at him, probably appreciating that he missed you and thinks your face is pretty, which only made him think of you as even more adorable. “You’re a cute thing, sweetheart, yknow that? Caught anyones eyes yet?” He sure hopes not. Dean wants to be the first one to touch you, take that innocence from you that he loves so much.

Contentment washes over him when he sees that shake of your head in response, the smirk on his lips widening slightly. “Oh yeah? No angels fallen in love with you? You ever been with a guy before?” Which you responded with another shake of your head and a small “No.” in that soft, sweet voice of yours.

“Never? Oh, darling, that’s adorable. Not even had a quick peck on the cheek?” Dean very clearly loved how innocent you are, how you’re too precious for your own good. Each visit you make to Earth, the more captivated he finds himself.

“Want me to show you what it’s like?” Dean leans forward slightly, the two of you now very close as he watches you consider his offer for a moment, grinning slightly more at your small nod, enjoying the fact your curious to what a kiss feels like.

Dean wasted no time when he saw you agree to his offer of showing you what it’s like to kiss someone, moving closer to you on the motel bed as his hand goes to rest against your cheek, gently pulling you towards him while he leans in, starting off with a chaste, innocent kiss against your lips before deepening the kiss more, his lips pressed against yours as his thumb gently rubs against your inner thigh.

He continues to kiss you as his tongue slips past your lips, reluctantly pulling away after a while once he decides he wants a little more than just making out.

“How was that, sweetheart? Y’wanna go even further than kissing?” He suggests in a low, gruff voice, moving a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your hair as you hesitantly nod your head a bit after thinking about his suggestion.

With that, Dean gently guides you onto the floor, propped up on both of your knees as he sits on the edge of his bed, his hands hastily unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, freeing his hard-on from his boxers.

Deans hand loosely pumps himself up and down a bit as a little precum leaks from his tip, eventually resting his hand on the back of your head and guiding you to his cock, quietly instructing you to open your mouth before placing his tip on your tongue, his hand on the back of your head slowly moving your head forward to help you take his whole length, those cute noises you make when his tip prods at the back of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock makes his head roll back, groaning while directing your head back and forth, gradually getting quicker the more he gets closer to cumming.

Dean pants heavily as he slowly starts to thrust his hips, his cock going deeper into your throat at a faster pace than before, letting out a low grunt every now and then as he feels himself getting closer.

When he finally lowers his head to look at you, it does nothing but speed up the nearing climax. Your head relentlessly bobbing back and forth, your eyes ever so slightly tearing up at each inch you take down your throat, he can’t help but grind his hips even quicker at the arousing sight.

Dean can’t take anymore, the view he has of you throating his dick, the sounds you make each time it reaches the very back of your throat, and the way your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, all just becomes too much for him, cum eventually oozing out, landing on your tongue and some of your face from Dean pulling out, his hand pumping his dick a few times while cum continues to land on your lips and chin, watching your eyes close tightly in reaction to the sudden sticky nut that’s now all over your face.

Dean breathes heavily at the sensation of finishing, watching you try to spit his seed out, probably not liking it from how new it all is to you. He gently runs his fingers through your hair before reaching over to the nightstand beside the bed, taking a few tissues from the tissue box that was sitting there, using it to wipe away the cum that had planted on your face.

“God, you’re a natural, sweetheart…” Dean pants out after finishing with wiping the stickiness off your face, leaning down and leaving a soft kiss to your forehead. He was definitely going to be doing that with you again. It was just too good not to happen again. And hopefully he might be able to eventually go further than just a blowjob with you.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

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.

Requested by my beloved wife @midnight-moonlight-and-mars sometime back in March. LOL, sorry it’s been forever, my love.

Request: I've got a Crowley request! It can be platonic or romantic. It takes place the year Sam is resurrected and dean is living with Lisa. The reader was close with the Winchesters but after the fight with Lucifer dean abandoned the reader to be with Lisa and cas never answers ( unrequited love maybe?) so the reader teams up with Crowley and becomes like a bounty hunter for him for Lucifer loyalists. 

A/N: It's technically not Crowley x reader since she's pining for Dean. Oops, but I hope you enjoy this all the same, my love.

WC: 1054

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, and blood, the reader feels abandoned and unloved, crowley’s nice, however.

Read on Ao3!

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It had been months since Dean had made his choice. The memory still stung—he chose normalcy, Lisa, and a life far from the chaos... far from you.

The moment Dean drove away to that suburban dream with Lisa and Ben, it was like a wound ripping open and never closing. You didn’t hear from him again, and there was no check-in or phone call—just silence. Castiel, too, was gone, leaving nothing but the ghost of his presence. Prayers went unanswered, and you were left alone with the echoes of battles fought and lives lost.

It was after Lucifer fell that everything seemed to break apart. Sam was gone—dead, you thought. Dean buried himself in the illusion of family, and you… well, you weren’t sure what you had anymore. There was no going back to who you were before the apocalypse, and your heart ached with unspoken feelings, ones that Dean never noticed.

He never loved you the way you loved him.

In the emptiness that followed, Crowley found you. The King of Hell always had impeccable timing. "You look like a stray," Crowley had said the night you crossed paths in some dingy bar in some forgotten town. "Lost your boys, I see. Shame. You were always good at what you do."

You could've walked away, but what was left? With nowhere to go and no one to fight for, you accepted Crowley’s offer—a devil's bargain, becoming a bounty hunter for Hell, tracking down Lucifer loyalists who still believed in the fallen archangel’s cause. It was dark work, but it was work, and it kept your mind from drowning in grief and longing.

The irony wasn’t lost on you. Hunting for Crowley meant betraying everything you’d once stood for, but that world had abandoned you first.

Months later, you stood in the ruins of an old church, blood splattered across the stone walls and broken angelic statues depicting Saints. The demon you’d tracked was a fanatic, a true believer in Lucifer’s return. You wiped your blade clean, not even flinching as the body burned to ash behind you. It was mechanical now—kill, move on. Feel nothing.

Crowley appeared, as he often did after a job well done. He smirked, his eyes gleaming with something close to pride. "Well done, love. Another one bites the dust."

You didn’t respond, just holstered your blade and looked out into the night. The stars were out, a stark reminder of the heaven you couldn’t reach, of the angel who had left without a word.

"You know, I’ve always admired your efficiency," Crowley continued, walking up beside you. "But there’s something hollow in it. Still pining for the good ol' days? For Dean? You haven’t been the same since the Moose and Not Moose fled away from the lifestyle."

The mention of Dean's name sent a wave of cold through you, but you kept your face neutral. Crowley was good at finding cracks in your armor, but you weren’t going to let him in. Not tonight.

"He made his choice," you said flatly. "I made mine."

"Yes, yes, he’s playing house while you do the dirty work. How noble of him," Crowley mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you and I both know it’s eating you up inside. It’s killing you that he’s living a life that you so desperately crave with him."

You glanced at Crowley, your jaw tight. "What's your point?"

Crowley chuckled, his smile dark. "My point, darling, is that the past always catches up to us. Dean may think he can run from it, but he can’t. Sooner or later, he’ll come crawling back to this life—and to you. And when he does, what will you do? Welcome him with open arms? Or remind him of what he left behind?"

You stared at Crowley, his words sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. You could pretend that Dean didn’t matter anymore, that you had moved on. But the truth was, no matter how many demons you killed or how many deals you made, there was still a part of you that longed for the life you had before everything went to hell. The part that still loved him. The piece of yur heart where Dean and Sam would wake you up in the mornings with the scents of breakfast wafting through the morning air.

But the man Dean had become—the one who chose Lisa, who walked away without a word—wasn’t the man you had fallen for. Maybe he never was.

"I don’t owe him anything," you said, though your voice sounded hollow even to you.

Crowley’s grin widened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "That’s the spirit. But don’t be too quick to write him off. You never know when an old flame might reignite."

That night, alone in a dingy motel room, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your phone. You hadn’t tried calling Dean since the day he left, and you weren’t about to now. But your fingers hovered over Castiel’s number, the angel who had disappeared like smoke as Dean had done so long ago.

You had prayed to him, begged for his help, for some sign that you weren’t completely forsaken. But he, like Dean, was gone.

With a bitter sigh, you tossed the phone aside and laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe the past never really stayed buried. But what did it matter? You had made your choice, too. You had become something else—something darker, harder.Something you hardly recognized when you’d glanced at your reflection.

The only thing that lingered was the ache. The unspoken words, the love that was never returned, and the haunting thought that in another life, maybe things could have been different.

But this was the life you had now, and there was no going back.

Outside, the world continued its chaotic dance of light and shadow, of good and evil. And you, standing somewhere in between, were left to hunt in the darkness. Alone.

The wind howled against the motel window, but you barely noticed as sleep finally claimed you, the weight of a broken heart your only companion, not noticing the door opening to see a figure standing in the threshold holding a quickly packed luggage bag.

[PART TWO]

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tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

SPN FOREVER PERM: @amelia-song-pond @salt-n-burn-em-all @kenzieam @flamencodiva-reblogs @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

DEAN WINCHESTER: @fandom-princess-forevermore

[illumose]

Lovesick • castiel

⋆⭒˚.⋆ PAIRINGS: female reader × Castiel + the winchester brothers

⋆⭒˚.⋆ CONTENT: fluff

⋆⭒˚.⋆ SUMMARY : Castiel has fallen in love with you but he does not realize it.

masterlist

Prompt : I was wondering if you could write Castiel x reader , the angel being completly unaware that he is smitten with the reader and thinks he’s potentially ill or that she’s practicing witchcraft 😂 Just pure fluff bonus points If dean helps set him up with the reader

author's note: thanks you @drowninghell for the request! Hope you’ll enjoy it.

Castiel quickly glanced at your angelic form in the backseat of Dean's car. When the Winchester brothers called for his help, they did not say that you'd be tagging along. He was now stuck with you. A mere human, with no power or self-defense skills. A human that he'd hate to see dead, somehow.

As you played with the hem of your sweatshirt and chewed on your lip, Castiel felt a weird feeling in his thoracic cage. A sort of explosion that he could no longer bear. Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead. Was he falling sick? He did not know of any angel who fell sick with a human disease. He touched his forehead. No fever.

"Alright, demon’s dead and Sam’s got an arm to patch up. I think we did great," announced Dean, emerging from the dilapidated barn on the side of the winding road. "You don’t look…. normal." He squinted at Castiel’s trembling silhouette.

"You do look like a sick Victorian child," added Sam, holding his right arm close to his chest. Blood drops were spattered on his denim.

Castiel ignored both comments. His attention returned to you. You had fallen asleep. Your cheeks were rosy from the heat and your eyes fluttered once in a while. So fragile. Innocent. All these words came to his mind whenever he thought of you.

"Stop staring. You look like a creep, dude." Dean patted his back, with such force that the angel was propulsed forward.

"I was not staring."

"You were. Damn it, you’re supposed to be smart, given your age. How can you not realize what’s happening?" The man appeared exasperated by his friend’s total lack of awareness. Angels acted as if they were superior beings, but in the end, they had no clue what to do when they felt a tiny bit of emotion.

You represented a problem. An issue he couldn't fix. The more he tried to forget you, the more you haunted his mind. Perhaps he was not falling sick. Perhaps, he was falling in love. Something no angel had ever experienced.

"Want a tip?"

The angel shook his head, pushing Dean to roll his eyes and exhale loudly.

"You’re smitten, dude. You’ve got those lovesick eyes whenever you look at her. You always come flying when she calls you. You get her food when she’s on her period. That’s not friend behavior if you want my opinion."

"Cas?"

As soon as he heard you, he rushed to the car.

"D’you think I’d be unreasonable if I asked you to teleport to a bakery on the other side of the world? I’m so craving a French croissant." You batted your eyes, knowing that this was over the top.

The angel nodded.

"Really?"

Again, he nodded. However, before he left for France to steal a croissant from a random bakery in a crowded street, he planted a kiss on your cheek. Taken aback, you held out your hand to grab his coat, but he was gone in the blink of an eye.

[bored-writer101]

{Castiel X Reader} My Angel

A/N: this came to me in a dream and i had to write it. sorry for being kinda inactive :( writers block be a bitch. but i hope you guys enjoy this one shot i was finally able to write! :] (gender neutral reader)

Warnings: reader gets kidnapped but angels, castiel unalives them

Summary: You had fallen right into their trap. The angels were using you as bait to get Castiel. They made the mistake of underestimating him.

Words: 1009

(not my gif)

"Castiel!"

Your scream bounced around the skull of his vessel like a ricocheting bullet. He abruptly stood from the chair he had been sitting in. The sudden movement caused Sam and Dean to look over at their angel friend. They eyed him curiously.

"You alright, man?" Dean asked, but before he could receive an answer, Castiel disappeared with a woosh of his wings. Dean turned to his brother. "What the hell was his problem?" Sam shrugged in response before looking back at his computer screen.

'Angels... Why did it have to be angels?' you thought.

You had fallen right into their trap. They wanted you to get to Castiel. Unfortunately for them, they were going to get just what they wanted.

"Castiel!" you called out for him again, and the angel in front of you laughed before smacking you across the face.

"Shut up. You already did your job."

The single lightbulb above your head suddenly popped, sinking the room into darkness. You heard shuffling footsteps before the sounds of punches landing. A few more moments of fighting before you heard the squish of a blade stabbing into flesh. A few feet away, three lights slowly emitted from the darkness. You could see a brief glimpse of the rage in Castiel's eyes as the angel died. You squeezed your eyes shut and turned away once it was too bright to bear.

Then it was silent. All you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. The smell of blood wafted through the air. You sucked in a breath and held it. You heard footsteps come over to you and around to stand behind you. You felt hands tugging at the ropes that were tied around your wrists. You were still terrified even though you knew who it was.

"Castiel?" you asked, your voice wavering.

"I'm here," he said as he finally got the ropes untied.

You brought your hands into your lap and rubbed your sore wrists. Castiel rounded the chair you were sitting in. You heard shuffling as he knelt down in front of you. Your eyes were slowly adjusting in the dark. He reached out and gently held your hands in his. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles in an attempt to calm you down.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I-I don't know."

"It's alright. I'm going to make it all better," he said softly.

You felt two fingers press against your forehead. "Castiel, wait!" you reached up to grab his wrist and try to pull his hand away, but it was already too late.

You could feel the ache in your muscles subsiding. The tingling on your cheek from where the other angel had slapped you was gone. You could breathe evenly again. You pulled Castiel's hand down, and he let you; you were already healed. You could see a faint smile on his face through the darkness.

"I'm sorry-" he cut you off quick.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn't your fault," he reassured you.

"I fell right into their trap. I should have seen it coming!" you insisted. "And your grace..." you added sadly.

"It doesn't matter. What matters now is that you're safe," he said as he cupped the side of your face.

You leaned into his touch. Your eyes fluttered close, but it wasn't much difference to the darkness that surrounded you.

"Let's get out of here," Castiel said.

His trench coat rustled as he stood. He held both your hands, and you knew what was coming next. Usually you'd protest him teleporting you, but you just wanted to be out of that room. You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for teleport and for the incessant questions you were sure to get from Sam and Dean. With a quiet whoosh of Castiel's wings, the two of you were out of that stuffy room.

You were surprised to smell fresh air. You shivered as the wind blew over you. You opened your eyes, and you're a bit disoriented when you realized you were standing. You stumbled on your shaky feet. Castiel was quick to place his hands around your waist to keep you upright. You put your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you tried to force your legs to work.

"I'm sorry. I thought you'd want to come back to the bunker instead of..." his voice trailed off.

"It's alright. I actually would rather be here. It's just, next time have me stand up beforehand," you said as you finally managed to regain your balance.

"My apologies. I'll remember that for next time."

"It's okay," you said with a chuckle, "Thank you for the rescue. I don't know what I'd do without my angel," you added.

You noticed the way his head cocked to the side at 'my angel.' You didn't even mean to say it, it just sort of came out. You hoping he doesn't acknowledge it.

"Your angel?" his pleased smile says he's not annoyed, but you can't help the embarrassment that burns your cheeks.

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean-" he cut you off before you could dig yourself into a hole with your rambling.

"I'd be your angel forever if you asked me to," he said smoothly.

Your jaw dropped open slightly at his words. He leaned in and kissed your cheek. You're sure he can feel the warmth against his lips. You closed your eyes when he kissed you, and you heard the flap of wings. Your hair was jostled by the gust of air. You opened your eyes to find him gone. You're left with your skin tingling with the rush of almost getting killed and then getting rescued by the angel you've had a crush on since you met him. You brought your hand up and gently touched the spot where his lips had kissed you. The next time the two of you were alone, you were definitely taking him up on his offer.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: big smut - oral (fem receiving), rough sex, PinV, angst, Dean being cute

Chapter Word Count: 3158

—-MDNI—-

A/N: ahhhh so back to the normal shenanigans. Nil this chapter is loosely inspired by the song ‘Fuck Away The Pain’ by Divide the Day. Also I’m making some changes to how I link in my chapters, because I have quite a few now and it takes fucking ages. Also it’s 1:30AM and I’m tired so I’ve proof read as best as I can, let me know if you see any errors.

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New readers start here: Prologue

Previous: Chapter 11

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 12

At some point during the quiet ride home I had fallen asleep, because when I woke up I was in my bed atop the covers, still fully dressed. Not knowing what hour it was I rummaged around for my phone, finding it placed carefully next to my books on my bedside table. The brightness from the screen made me wince, my sensitive eyes finally adjusting after a few moments to read 4:17AM. I couldn’t stop the groan from slipping out and I flopped back onto my pillow. I lay there, listening to the humming vents in the bunker, taking in the deafening silence as I took long, slow breaths. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Daniel. Just not the Daniel I knew. Not the boy who lived in band t-shirts and scruffy jeans, but the strange man who wore a three piece suit and sprouted fangs from his jaw. I didn't know that person, and I'm glad I never would. My mind then drifted to Dean; seeing his confused face and shocked expression towards the revelation that I KNEW the vampire about to be killed. My face scrunched like I'd tasted something sour at the thought. I couldn't place my finger on it, but the whole situation felt wrong - uncomfortable. Like I'd been unfaithful even though I'm technically not tied to anyone. It felt like I'd been unfaithful to Dean, and we all knew the last thing he wanted was commitment. Is that what I wanted? Dean? Something more than just carnal desire? A relationship? Security? Someone to call mine? My head felt like it was starting to spin as I spiralled down a rabbit hole I had no intention of venturing down. I shook the intrusive thoughts from my head, deciding that it was the very last thing I needed to be thinking about right now. Sitting up slowly I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, my socked-feet gently connecting with the floor as I quietly left my room, heading down towards the kitchen. The grumbling of my stomach reminding me that I've not eaten for about twelve hours.

My arrival to the kitchen turned heads. More heads than I anticipated being there. In all honesty, I thought everyone would have been in bed at this hour. Apparently not. Of course there was Sam and Dean, Charlie, and that strange angel - what was his name? Castiel? But there was also a woman who I’d never seen before. She had short dark hair and a kind face, but there was something sad and sorrowful about her smile. The five pairs of eyes scorched my skin and I stopped in my tracks, taking a tentative step backwards. The only thing stopping me from turning tail and running out of there was the soothing voice calling my name that somehow instantly calmed my nerves. It was like molasses; sweet and deep and as intoxicating as aged liquor. Before I even had a chance to change my mind about sticking around, Dean had swallowed the distance between us and enveloped me in a crushing embrace. A strange instinct took over and I buried my makeup-smeared face into his chest, feeling the devastatingly familiar burn of hot tears start to well up and spill over.

“Dean-” my voice was small and hoarse as I squeaked out his name, his arms tightening around me reflexively.

“It's ok sweetheart, you don't have to say anything.

I've got you.”

*

He'd walked me slowly back to my room, like I was something so fragile and the smallest knock would cause me to shatter. In all honesty it wouldn't be an incorrect statement - It felt like the softer Dean was with me the more delicate I became. My demeanour had the density of a feather and the brittleness of tempered glass; one wrong move and I'd burst into hundreds of little pieces that would have to be glued back together.

The door clicked shut behind us and he guided me to sit on the bed. I crawled into the middle and sat with my legs crossed, uncaring of the fact my micro skirt did little to cover what dignity I had left. The thin white petticoat tickled my thighs as Dean shuffled to sit in front of me, his large hands now resting face up in my lap, beckoning my small fingers to become entwined in his. We sat knee-to-knee, Dean's eyes tracking every movement I made - every breath, every blink, every nervous bite of my lip. He took a deep inhale and a slow exhale, like he was using those seconds to decide on what to say. His rough thumbs caressed my knuckles.

“Sweetheart; it's ok to cry.”

That softness radiating from him pulled a ragged sob from my chest, my bottom lip quivering as I made the bad decision to make eye contact with him. The tears started to stream again.

“D-Daniel- he- I s-saw him- he was hit b-by a f-fucking e-eighteen wheeler, D-Dean. H-he was on his motorbike and h-e was thrown a-bout ninety feet b-before h-he hit the g-ground. I went t-to get a FUCKING s-snack and t-the moment I-I came back o-outside he was- he was-”

Before I could carry on he had pulled me into another crushing embrace, my legs slipping over his as he pulled me to sit in his lap. Rough denim rubbed on my inner thighs as his arms tightened around me, my arms moving on their own to loop around his neck.

“We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to.”

I sniffled.

“I just want to f-forget about him. I-I healed f-from this already. I don't w-want to h-have to do that a-again, Dean. I can’t. That person- th-that vamp- he wasn’t him. Please- I just- I just want to forget.”

I pulled back to look at him. I saw this way his eyes darted to my lips and I knew he tried to fight it, I knew he’d scold himself internally for thinking such thoughts in a moment like this. His evergreen gaze flitted across my face before my own eyes landed on his mouth. I saw the way his lips were parted. I saw how his pupils dilated and how his fingers tightened on the small amount of fabric at my hips. How he swallowed, almost nervously, when I moved my own fingers to tug on his hair - to glide over his scalp. I couldn't help but allow myself to sit heavier in his lap.

“(Y/n), sweetheart. We shouldn’t- I shouldn't - I don't want to take advantage of you. Not like this,” his voice was an unusual mixture of pained self-restraint and compassionate sympathy.

“Dean,” my own voice came out sterner than I intended and I felt him flinch beneath my fingertips. “I want to forget. Make me forget.”

It was like a spark had hit a lake of gasoline; one small thing had ignited us, and my face was still wet with tears when Dean threw me down onto the mattress, my head at the foot of the bed. Thick, slightly trembling fingers glided up my thighs and tugged down my underwear, throwing it into the depths of my room. Rough palms suddenly gripped the back of my thighs and pushed up, my knees almost touching my ears whilst he shuffled slightly, like he was getting comfortable. Right when I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing, I felt it: A lick. A warm wetness that wasn’t my own. Precision and practice had made this appendage a dear friend of the night, which I realised when I felt my brows scrunch together shortly followed by a breathy moan.

“Fuck-”

His tongue went around and around and around, occasionally grazing over my clit but generally taking great care to avoid it; to pump up the agonising sensitivity and make me squirm. I felt his lips move against me, his words fanning hot breaths over my most intimate area as his voice rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck, (Y/n) you're delicious.”

Dipping back down and tongue back at work, he continued his actions, starting slowly - oh so slowly - before speeding up, and up and up until he stopped. He stopped making little circles around my bundle of nerves, and before I could even whine about it he'd pressed the entirety of his tongue against my opening. I didn't think much of the hand releasing my thigh and dropping it on his shoulder until the pad of his thumb pressed on my buzzer, sending a singular shockwave through me whilst he continued to taste me. His thumb swirled again and again whilst his tongue carefully dipped in and out, seeming to know exactly where to press, when to do it and the amount of pressure needed. It had only been a few minutes but I already felt like a melting mess, my body starting to writhe as the pleasure started to build in the depths of my stomach. I felt like I was losing control of my thighs as Dean's fingers dug into the soft flesh of the one he was holding up, the side of his head leaning into the other one, stubble scratching at the soft skin on the inside of my thigh as his jaw flexed with every movement of his tongue. If he wasn't holding onto me like he was, I felt like I could crush him. Another moan passed through my lips when he sped up a little more, my fingers racing to tangle with his hair, pulling a satisfied noise from him.

“Dean- please- if you keep going like this I'm g’nna come-”

He ceased his actions and pushed up, leaning forwards so he was towering above me with my arousal practically dripping from his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and there was an almost primal glint in his eye.

“Do you wanna come?”

The sound of his voice could have snapped that coil inside me there and then. Instead I groaned quietly, watching the way he slowly wrapped his fingers around my calf that rested on his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to my inner thigh just above my knee. His dark eyes never left mine.

“I wanna come s’bad, but…” I paused and felt my face heat up.

“But…?”

“But I want to feel you inside me when I do.”

His eyes looked like they were about to roll into the back of his head before he caught himself and stared back down at me, chewing on his bottom lip slightly.

“Fuck sweetheart, those are dangerous words.”

“You're a dangerous man…”

There were a few moments of silence, racing heartbeats almost audible from the other side of the room. I hooked my other leg over his shoulder and linked my ankles behind his back, pulling him further down towards me.

“Dean- please. I need you. I need you to fuck me.”

I'd barely finished my sentence when his mouth pressed to mine, hot and panting. I could taste the bite of the whiskey he'd drunk at the club, the richness of it still on his tongue after all these hours - he must've had more when we got back to the bunker. I stretched my hands down and fumbled with the buckle on his belt, fingers frantically trying to undo everything just so I could feel him - touch him. Anything to focus on him and him alone.

“Do you still want to forget, darlin’?”

I nodded.

“And you’re sure you’re ok with this? I don’t want you to reg-“

“I won’t, I promise. I just need you to make my mind go blank; I need the… pain to go away.”

He pulled his T-shirt off in one swift movement before lowering himself to mere centimetres above me, our lips practically touching.

“Then use me however you need to.”

His words were electric. I didn’t give him a chance to pull away, my hands cupping the sides of his face and dragging his mouth down to mine in a frenzied kiss. I was starting to become familiar with how he kissed me - with how he moved his mouth; how he tasted. I was starting to get used to him. You could almost say that I was starting to crave him. With his intoxicating scent and how he tasted when we practically devoured each other. He was becoming my lifeline, somehow, and that thought alone made my heart race.

I thrust my hands down between us to finish what I started before with unbuckling his belt and jeans, eventually dipping a hand into his underwear and feeling him hot, hard, and heavy in my palm. He made a small noise in the back of his throat, unwilling to break away from my lips. I only pushed his clothing as far as I needed to before pulling him out, wiping my thumb over his tip to gather as much precum as I could before smearing it up and down his length in gentle strokes. I started to play him at his own game by starting tantalisingly slow, speeding up over time before he was grasping at my wrist and halting my actions.

“Please-” he almost begged, pulling away from me slightly, “please don’t make me come yet.”

“Then fuck me and we can come together.”

He didn’t waste another second as he lined himself up to my entrance and pushed in, getting lost in my comforting warmth as he groaned into the crook of my neck. I gasped at the stretch, a high-note moan slipping out as he barely waited two seconds before rolling his hips back and forth. Aside from heavy breathing and uncontrolled moans, the only other thing to be heard was the wetness between our bodies and the unmistakable sound of skin-on-skin.

“I wasn’t going to say anything because the timing was never right, but holy fuck (Y/n), your outfit is killing me,” he somehow managed to form a sentence between the panting, the almost crude compliment bringing a blissed out smile to my lips, my mind incapable of forming a coherrant reply.

My ankles unlocked from around his back as his thrusting became more erratic and my legs dropped from his shoulders. Dean took this as a cue to change positions as he grasped my ass and lifted it off the mattress, pulling my body on and off his cock over and over and over again, like I was his own personal toy to use. And the whore that lived deep in my soul loved every second of it. My eyes focused on Deans face, noting how his jaw clenched as his eyes constantly moved up and down my body - taking in every curve of soft skin and ruffle of my outfit. The occasional stutter of his hips was the tell that he was nearing his end, so I traced my hands up my body and pulled the front of my top down, letting my tits bounce free. I pinched and twisted my nipples between my fingers, biting my bottom lip as I felt my sex flutter at the extra stimulation. If Dean wasn’t salivating before, he certainly was now. Keeping one hand on my breast I moved the other one down. Down over the softness of my stomach and to the soaking wetness between my legs, my fingers pressing soft circles around my clit and making me clench even harder around Dean. I swirled and swirled whilst still playing with my nipples, bringing that ever-nearing storm closer to home. I know Dean could feel it too, because his grip on my ass was slipping and he didn’t seem to care; gripping me so tight I was certain I’d see bruises in the afternoon. Letting go of my tit I brought my other hand between us, feeling where Dean and I joined together; feeling how intimate it felt. I could feeling myself tipping over the edge as the noises tumbling from my lips kept coming, urging Dean to somehow fuck me harder and deeper than he already was.

“Sh-shit sweetheart, if you keep making noises like that I won’t be able to go on any longer.”

“Fuck - Dean please- please-”

It was when his eyes met mine, those mossy-green irises clouded with lust and desire, that the storm came crashing in and my euphoria struck me like white hot lightning. My own orgasm pulled Dean into his own one as a string of unintelligible curses fell from his lips before his thrusting ceased and he set me down gently on the bed. No words spoken, no movements made; just his eyes piercing mine as the sound of heavy breaths filled the room. I wasn’t sure how long we sat there for, not making a single move whilst regaining our composure. That was, until I reached out, unthinking, and traced my thumb over Deans bottom lip. My palm rested softly on his cheek and he allowed his eyes to flutter closed for a few short moments before opening them again. When I finally spoke, my voice was barely above a whisper.

“Dean I…I’m sorry.”

He looked puzzled.

“What for? I mean if anything, it should be me apologising.”

I shook my head, a few aches starting to settle over my body already.

“I feel like I’ve used you.”

He chuckled slightly, planting his hands either side of my head and leaning in slightly.

“I told you to.”

“No, like, today was rough, emotionally. It was my baggage and I feel like you’re the one I’ve forced to carry it.”

It was his turn to shake his head.

“Don’t be stupid. You think I’m here, helping you to forget two different versions of the same person against my will? Sweetheart, I want to be here, making you feel better anyway I can,” he smiled a boyish smile, “hell, I’d’ve made you hot chocolate with cream and frickin marshmallows if that would’ve helped. Or watched some dumb ass chick-flick. Maybe even both.”

I couldn’t stop the schoolgirl grin from blooming as I fought every urge to pull him down to me and kiss him. Kiss him like I fucking meant it.

“Could we still do that?”

He chuckled, the sound causing the butterflies in my chest to flutter.

“You bet you’re perfect ass we can,” he punctuated with a light slap to my rear. “What do you wanna watch?”

I pondered for a moment, wondering what DVDs the boys would have laying around in the bunker. In all honesty though, I had one box set to my name that Bobby bought me many moons ago.

“Is Lord of the Rings good with you?”

He looked up for a moment and I’m convinced I saw him mouth ‘thank you’ to the ceiling. But that would be absurd, right?

“Darlin’ it’s perfect. But first let’s get you cleaned up.”

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Up Next: Chapter 13

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@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[couldyouimagine-that]

Saving Grace

Genre; action, hurt/comfort

Word count; 2.1k

Warnings; canon typical violence, arguing

Pairing; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader, Gabriel (Supernatural) x Reader

The reader and Team Free Will plus Gabriel and Lucifer are outnumbered by a legion of angels. Lucifer and Gabriel decide at the same time they need to protect the reader.

Another Lucifer and Gabriel story because I love writing the two of them. This was a really fun one!

Masterlist

-

The angels were everywhere. You were trapped in a warehouse full of them, each armed to the teeth with steel and fury. Castiel’s powers were completely gone, yet he fought on beside Sam and Dean. Your own angelic blade flashed in your hand, your movements practiced and almost automatic. But you were getting tired. This fight had been going on far too long – there shouldn’t even have been a fight to begin with. With Lucifer and Gabriel in the ring, the legions you faced should have been smoke in the air by now. You couldn’t understand how the angels trying to kill you had access to their powers, but the two archangels on your own side didn’t. From their halting looks of confusion when a snap of each of their fingers did nothing, neither did they.

That left all of you fighting hand to hand, and even with six of you, there were still too many to take on. You flung yourself around towards a torn cry of Dean’s name, seeing Castiel trying to wade through the fight towards your fallen friend. You and Sam quickly followed suit, but the angels closed rank. You couldn’t even see Dean; you had no way of knowing how badly hurt he was. Your only indication was that he didn’t get back up. Distracted in trying to lay eyes on him for just a moment, you felt a searing pain across your shoulder blade and back. The wound didn’t feel too deep, but a slash from angelic steel was excruciating. You stumbled, taking a glancing blow from your left that had your feet out from under you, and there was just enough time to see you would fall directly onto the tip of another angel blade –

The air around you fell silent and still.

Your breathing was ragged, the blood on your back soaking through your shirt. You had lost your weapon somewhere in the melee, your trembling hand instead clutching cloth. Someone gripped your other wrist, deadly silent. You forced your eyes open to see what your forehead was leaning against, almost reeling back when your mind supplied a person, a man, Lucifer. His arm encircled your waist to keep you steady and a second hand alighted on your uninjured shoulder. Lucifer was watching the space directly behind you with an unreadable expression. You turned your head as much as your rattled state would allow to find Gabriel holding your arm, staring back at his brother in exactly the same way. Gabriel broke first to look at you.

“You alright?” He asked cautiously, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes caught on your back. You swallowed harshly and tried to nod. Your grip on Lucifer’s jacket tightened and you were surprised that he let you lean against him more heavily as you tried to regain your bearings.

“What happened?” Your voice was hoarse even to your own ears.

“Fight got too much.” Lucifer sounded oddly subdued, enough so that you made the effort to straighten and see his face. His gaze was unfocused, though it snapped to you as he offered a short smile. “We decided to get out of there.”

You stepped back, finally, and cast around for your friends. You recognised the rusted hallways as one of the entrances to the main floor where you had been just moments prior, but Sam, Cas, and Dean were nowhere to be found. You thought back to what had happened just before you had been teleported out, a dark pit opening in your stomach. Movements frantic now, you located your blade and snatched it up from the grimy concrete floor.

“And what, you just left them there?”

You turned quickly between Gabriel and Lucifer, imploring either of them to prove you wrong. Of course, for once, they stayed quiet.

“Oh no, no, no-”

Injured shoulder be damned, you grit your teeth and set off at a sprint, shoving between your saviours. You knew they had just watched you go without even needing to see it. You careened round a corner and took out an unsuspecting angel standing guard, then on through a set of double doors and another corner. And this time, you skidded two a halt. Ten more angels, blades ready and moving as a singe military unit stood between you and saving your friends. You thought humourlessly that if you believed God truly cared, this would have been the moment you decided to pray. Instead, you let out a roar and charged at the one leading the way, walking slightly apart from the others. Those behind her were arranged in lines of three, shoulder to shoulder and completely blocking off the corridor.

You dispatched two quickly, but that gave the others time to circle around you. You turned to face each, trying to put on a show so they would know you weren’t afraid, that you could take them. You were, and you couldn’t. And they knew it. When three came at you simultaneously, you launched yourself towards the closest one, eyes shut as you prepared for the onslaught of agony which would inevitably lead to your death.

It never came.

You slammed your hands down over your ears at the overwhelming, high-pitched ringing which split straight through your skull. Your eyes narrowed to slits at the onslaught of piercing white light, but you were even more shocked once you could see again. The expanse of a perfect white wing curled around you, protecting you from your attackers. You traced its arch back to Lucifer, who had already killed the three angels nearest to you. You turned at a cry of pain from behind you, seeing Gabriel had just about taken care of the rest. Gabriel faced you with all the self-importance of a king.

“I just dragged your ass out of there and saved your life, and this is how you repay me, with a suicide mission?!”

“We, brother,” Lucifer corrected in a low, warning tone. His wing now seemed more like it was keeping you in place, rather than protecting you from harm. Your first instinct was to lash out at them both, but you tamped down on it. You needed to be practical and Gabriel was right – you would never get to your friends in time.

“How is it that they can use their powers, but you two can’t?” The archangels stopped their fighting before it could really get under way, each giving you an assessing look. “Cas is still cut off from heaven, right? So he can’t do anything anyway. That means they’ve done something specifically to block of the power of archangels.”  

You stepped back from Lucifer, gaze down, mind whirring. There shouldn’t have been anything powerful enough to tamp down on their abilities to start with, and you had never heard of anything that could filter out an archangel’s power but let through that of an ordinary angel. You thought through every sigil you had ever encountered, but not one of them fit. You couldn’t imagine it was a magical object, and even if this could be achieved with witchcraft, the angels wouldn’t deign to use it. That left –

“Got it! There’s warding somewhere, that’s blocking out most of your powers. It’ll be in Enochian, and there’s already so many angels here that I bet you weren’t able to sense it when we came in.” Again, they said nothing. “Come on, please – we need to find it before it’s too late!” They weren’t going to help. You were getting desperate, but pleading for their help had no effect. A scream pierced through into the corridor and you lost what little sense you had left. “You both cared enough to pull me out of there. If you care about me at all, you’ll help me find that warding!”

Gabriel looked from you to Lucifer, and some sort of silent understanding seemed to pass between them. You blinked and they were both gone, and moments later, so were the sounds of fighting from the main floor. Heart in your throat, you sprinted for the entrance. The corridor flew past, yet it seemed that your every step lasted a decade. Rusted old hinges shrieked when you shoved open the doors and burst into the warehouse, to find it almost empty.

Dean was curled over, just barely holding himself off the floor on his elbows. Castiel was on his knees in front of him, blade held forward defensively and his free hand behind him, hovering by Dean’s shoulder. Sam was still on his feet a few paces away.

“What happened?” Dean groaned roughly, trying to look around to see where the angels had gone. You swallowed when you realised that the shadows floating towards the ceiling and gathering in the corners of the room weren’t shadows at all. They were the dust that was left of the angels themselves.

Your steps echoed loudly as you ran towards your friends. You felt certain your relief was palpable, but the others were as wary as you had ever seen them.

“Where’d they go?” Dean tried again, slowly sitting himself up. Castiel looked as if he wanted nothing more in the world than to reach for the injured hunter and fold him into an embrace. The soft flap of wings signalled the return of Lucifer and Gabriel, and Sam took a few defensive steps forward in front of his brother.

“Ah, you’re welcome,” Lucifer intoned expectantly, staring directly at you. Castiel turned to him, saw the direction of his gaze, and leaned towards you immediately, voice urgent.

“Y/N, what did you do?”

“Nothing, Cas. It’s fine-” His hand landed on your shoulder, grip tight, as if trying to convince you of an imminent threat you didn’t believe was there.

“What did you agree to?”

“Nothing!” You took a deep, calming breath. “I realised there was some kind of warding around this place that was allowing all of the angels to access their powers, but not the archangels. You three were surrounded, and Gabriel and Lucifer found the warding, dismantled it, and destroyed the angels who were attacking us. That’s it.”

Dean groaned as he sat further up and Castiel’s concern became split between the two of you. He moved back a little towards Dean, supporting the hunter’s back even when he tried to wave Castiel away. He was too weak to manage.

“You’re not hurt,” Dean ground out, less of a question and more of a confirmation. You nodded, the yes quiet in the back of your throat. “Then what happened to you? Cause you disappeared and I thought one of ‘em had taken you down.”

You found yourself faltering. Lucifer, the devil himself, and Gabriel, two of the only four archangels to have ever existed, had decided simultaneously that your puny little human life was worth saving? You, the only human of untold billions to have lived throughout time that not one, but either of them had ever cared enough to save – you couldn’t even believe the words in your own mind. Dean prompted you again when you failed to answer and you still couldn’t come up with a reply. Aside from being unbelievable, you doubted Lucifer at the very least would want you to tell the Winchesters and Castiel of all beings what he had done, presumably on the spur of the moment. becoming uncomfortable in the silence with everyone’s eyes on you, you looked over to Gabriel for support, preferring your chances with getting help from him than his brother. He seemed to sigh silently.

“They almost did.” Gabriel watched you cautiously as everyone turned to him. “I was close enough to get Y/N out of the way in time.”

“And what about him?” Dean gave a disparaging tilt of his head in Lucifer’s direction.

“What, you thought I was just gonna let my little bro walk out of a fight without following?”

That wasn’t what had happened; Lucifer had been trying to save you too. But you certainly weren’t going to say anything, and it seemed that neither was Gabriel.

Dean still seemed suspicious, but there were other more important things at hand. Sam and Castiel helped him to his feet. Gabriel snapped his fingers and you all instantly appeared back at the bunker. Your head swirled from the chosen method of long-distance transportation and you pitched to the side, reaching out for the nearest available object to stop yourself from falling. When you straightened after a moment of regaining your bearings, it was to see Lucifer smiling smugly down at you. He held his forearm parallel to the ground in such a way that you were leaning on it without drawing anyone else’s attention. You apologised quietly and stepped back in time to see Gabriel staring at his brother yet again. Somehow, you felt sure that having gained the attention of them both couldn’t lead to a good end.

[arjwrites]

I'm not the same annon that requested it(I'm not that creative) but could we get a sequel to the saving grace fic?? Like, I was reading it and it was so good I was soo invested in the story and then it ended 😭😭 I've been looking for any Cas fics in general but I think yours are by far the Greatest💕💕

Saving Grace pt. 2 - Castiel x GN!Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Saving Grace!

Warnings: References to sex, use of Y/N. GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: HEHEHE this one was a little silly but I love it. I feel like it ends really abruptly but I really wanted to get it done. I think I am going to write a little epilogue blurb to finish this, look for that sometime next week! Thanks for requesting this anon, I hope you enjoy <3

Link to Epilogue

Since your initial encounter with Cas’s wings, the two of you had fallen into a regular routine. At the end of the day, whether the team had just finished a difficult hunt or many long hours of research, Cas would pull you aside to discretely ask for your assistance, and the two of you would tuck yourselves away from the Winchesters for some privacy. 

“Y/N, could you… Check out my wings again? Something feels off.” He’d ask, usually averting your gaze.

“Of course, Cas!” The chance to touch his wings always excited you, but you quickly worked to calm yourself, to play things cool. “I will, uh, be in the other room when you’re ready.”

In the last few weeks, the angel had asked you to comb through his wings more times than he had ever mentioned them in the years you had known him. And more often than not, you never found any debris to remove or injury to assess. You found this peculiar, but you never said a word about it. Grooming through Cas’s wings was a job that you carried out carefully, dutifully, accepting your salary in the form of quality time with your dear angel. 

Sometimes, when you and Cas would hide away to share this secret ritual, the angel would talk, and you would listen. He’d tell you about heaven, about things he had seen in his time on Earth, and all the things that weighed heavy on his mind. Other times, he was quiet. In these times, you would take the lead. You would tell him about your childhood or recount stories of your life before his arrival. He would listen intently, committing every detail to memory. Your heart would swell when he would bring up something you had told him in another conversation. He was so considerate. 

Beyond being an emotional release for the two of you, the physical sensation was like nothing else either of you had experienced. For Cas, it was a relief and relaxation that he hadn’t experienced in as long as he had occupied his vessel on Earth. Sometimes it felt as if his grace, his true form, was bottled up tight inside of him, threatening to spill over. But in these moments with you, he could let it slip out of him, and feel the cool breeze that was your touch rippling through his feathers. And for you, it was divine in every sense of the word. It was more than just the softness and majesty of his wings. With each stroke of your fingers, a feeling of such peace came over your body. It was like the moment of warmth you felt when Cas healed you after a hunt- only stretched from a brief second into minutes, hours. It took a long time for you to grow comfortable holding casual conversation while working through Cas’s wings. You often felt that they demanded your full attention- like they were using their incandescent glow to speak to you in a language you had never learned yet understood perfectly. But you often reminded yourself that this time was for Cas, so you counted yourself lucky and chatted along with the angel for the sake of his comfort. 

As this routine became more commonplace, it grew to drag on longer and longer. Initially, you and Cas were quick, subtle, doing your best to fly under the radar so that Sam and Dean wouldn’t notice your absences. But there was something about spending this time with him that was so intoxicating. Each time you would linger in each other’s presence for a few extra precious moments. Sometimes, you would disappear together for hours on end. Cas would typically leave the Winchesters in a frantic or distant state, and return serene and satisfied. Undoubtedly, the boys were starting to take notice. 

Today was one of those days where your time with Cas had been greatly extended. You both had gotten caught up swapping stories about the most beautiful things you had ever seen. You had gone on and on about the glimpse of the northern lights you and the boys had caught when a hunt had taken you up to Canada, while Cas had described wonders both heavenly and earthly that you could barely imagine. But the whole time, there was something lingering beneath the surface. When he had first asked you the question, you had desperately wanted to scream out You, Castiel. Your wings, your grace, your presence. You are the most beautiful thing I have had the pleasure of knowing. But, of course, you did not. And it seemed like there was something left unsaid on both sides, because when Cas talked through his own answer, he had hesitated before speaking and trailed off after finishing, in a way that was so different from his usual direct and succinct tone. 

After finishing the routine, you had retreated to your room, your mind racing through every possible thought Cas could have been thinking. The angel, on the other hand, had ventured out into the bunker, only to find Sam and Dean perched in waiting. Cas acknowledged them both, intending to keep the interaction brief, but it seemed the brothers had different plans. 

“Where have you been, Cas?” Dean gruffed in an accusatory tone. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, avoidantly. 

Sam and Dean shared a quick look, silently communicating in their typical Winchester telepathy. Cas watched, unsure of their intentions, but nevertheless eager to get out of the conversation as soon as possible. 

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Y/N, recently,” Sam noted, inching carefully towards the topic. 

“Yes, I have.” It was true. Another Winchester glance ensued. 

“So, uh… What have you guys been… doing?” Dean questioned. 

Cas thought for a moment. This wasn’t something he wanted to share with the Winchesters- it was something sacred shared between the two of you. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sam and Dean, but there was something about the act that felt so vulnerable. Plus, it wouldn’t take them long to realize what Cas was up to. He definitely didn’t need this sort of grooming on a regular basis- it was all a ruse to be close to you, alone. It was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself to take part in, and in some ways he felt guilty- like it was wrong to let you do this for him, like he was using you. And if the boys found his secret out, would they tell you? He had to deflect. 

“Y/N has been helping me,” was all he could come up with in response. 

“Helping you with what, Cas?” Sam probed, not ready to let him out easy. 

Again, Cas stalled for a beat. “With some private business.” 

“Well Cas, whatever it is, we can help too,” Dean stood, beginning to inch towards the angel. 

“No.” His gaze hardened. This is where his heart would’ve started beating faster, if it did that kind of thing. 

“No?” Confusion and the slightest hint of anger laced Dean’s voice. “Cas, that’s what we’re here for. Is it dangerous?” 

“No. It’s intimate. Not any of your business.” 

At this, Sam and Dean shared a third look, this one very different from the first two. This time, their eyes were wide, their mouths opening and closing in tandem as if volleying the same thoughts back and forth, neither sure how to articulate them. After a deafening few moments of silence, Dean spoke.

“So… You’re being… Intimate, with Y/N…” he trailed off. 

“Yes.” He nodded, hoping they would accept that and move on, not understanding the connotations of his words. 

“And you… You care about Y/N… Right?” Sam chimed in.

Cas furrowed his brow. “Of course I do. Very much so. This isn’t something I would do with someone I didn’t love.” His tone was matter-of-fact. Of course he loved you. Maybe he hadn’t yet told you, but… Of course he did. 

“Okay. Okay. Good.” The boys nodded to each other as if offering some sort of approval that Cas had not been seeking after. And when they turned to look back at him, the angel was gone. 

-

Your slippered feet flopped against the hard floors of the bunker as you traveled the distance between your room and the kitchen, on a pilgrimage in search of a snack. The bunker felt eerily quiet- you didn’t run into either Winchester nor your angel during your journey. It wasn’t until you closed the fridge, satisfied with your selection, and turned to retreat, that you noticed Sam and Dean behind you. Your heart leapt out of your chest at the jump-scare, but they wasted no time in speaking.

“Hey, so, uh, we heard what’s been going on.” Dean was awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he spoke. 

“Yeah, and we wanted to say… You guys don’t have to like, hide it anymore, or anything,” Sam added. 

“I mean we don’t want to, like, see you do it-” Dean chimed in.

“Right! Right. We don’t. But-” 

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” You interjected.

“Well Cas told us what you two have been doing. Don’t worry, it wasn’t like a ‘kiss and tell,’ we had to pry it out of him-” 

“And what exactly did he say we were doing?” 

The boys looked at each other sideways, as if a silent rock paper scissors was determining who would speak. It seemed that Dean had lost.

“Well the word he used was being ‘intimate.’” Dean made air-quotes as he spoke. “It was kinda sweet, though. Said he wouldn’t do it with someone he didn’t love, and-” 

“Oh my GOD,” was all you could get out. They thought you two were having sex. Cas said he loved you. Your mind couldn’t decide which you needed to address first, but it seemed your feet had chosen for you when you backed out of the room, turned on your heels, and ran. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed!” Sam called after you, but you were gone.

It was as if a magnet was pulling you towards the angel. You had a feeling you knew exactly where he would be- not a conscious thought, but more of a natural instinct that was carrying your body in concert with your legs. The narrow bunker hallways whipped past you and it felt like you were flying. If you could’ve flown to Cas in that moment, you would have. 

And there he was, perched exactly where you thought he would be. Looking at him now, it felt like the world had opened up around you. He said he loved you. He loves you. 

“Hello, Y/N.” Cas looked at you with a soft smile, and you froze. 

You had raced to him on pure adrenaline, but now, you weren’t sure what to say, do, think. Your mouth hung open for a moment, before finally forming the words.

“I just spoke with Sam and Dean,” you said, plainly.

“I see. They must have figured it out. I’m very sorry, Y/N. I don’t want you to think I am taking advantage of you by asking for your help with my wings, or-”

“Cas, they think we’re having sex.”

Cas cocked his head to the side and shifted his gaze behind you, processing what you had said. “I see.”

“Why do they think that, Cas?” 

He drew in a silent breath that melted his facial features. His whole presence softened, as if he had made up his mind about something that had worried him for so long.

“Well, you see… They asked me why we had been spending so much time alone. And I didn’t want them to know about what we were doing because… It’s very vulnerable, Y/N. It is a lot of trust that I place in you. And I feel guilty, because it isn’t something you should have to do. It’s selfish but it feels so good, and…”

“And what, Castiel.”

“It’s a reason for me to be close to you.” 

His words sent your heart skyrocketing and pulled you across the room, closing the final few feet between you. There were a million things you could have said. You could have reassured him he wasn’t selfish, told him how much you enjoyed helping him, or laughed at him for the confusion he caused. But instead, you gave all of those feelings a moment to bubble up in your chest before funneling them into a kiss. A soft kiss, a gentle kiss, and yet, one that was driven by so much emotion that it couldn’t help but be firm, absolute. And the angel kissed you back.

You lips lingered together for as long as you each could bear, before pulling gently away in unison. The smile on his face spoke volumes before you could even open your mouth. 

“You can be close to me whenever you’d like, Cas.”

“I’d like that,” he nodded. 

Now, to deal with those Winchesters.

[holylulusworld]

Deepest love - Flufftober 25

Summary: Dean acts...odd.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers

Trope: Friends to lovers

Idea by the lovely @elle14-blog1

A/N: *Y/F/S = Your favorite song – reader’s choice is your favorite song

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

“Aw, she looks so good, Dean,” you admired his car. Dean did a great job cleaning Baby. He took his time, cleaning every inch of his beloved car. 

“Only the best for my two favorite ladies,” he flashes you a grin. The hunter cleaned his car to make sure you’d enjoy the next ride with his Baby. “We are ready to roll, sweetheart.”

“Me too,” you excitedly look at Baby. She looks shiny and brand-new after Dean took care of her. “She’s so pretty.”

“That she is,” Dean says to himself as he watches you look inside his car. “So, uh—I was thinking about having a nap on our ride. Do you want to drive?”

“What?” Sam and Castiel ask in unison as they watch Dean throw the keys at you. You catch them, giggling as Dean makes a joke about two hot girls going for a ride.

“But no one is allowed to drive your car,” Castiel cocks his head. He furrows his brows as he tries to find out what changed Dean’s mind. “Are you unwell, Dean? Do you need my help? Maybe your hands are hurting.”

“What? No! I’m fine,” Dean snorts. “Can a man not let his friend drive his car?” He purses his lips and glares at his brother and Castiel. “Now, get your stuff. We need to hit the road. I want to gank that monster scaring old ladies.”

Looking at the keys in your hands you smile. Dean trusting you with his beloved car proves he meant what he said a few weeks ago. “Dean, I’ll call shotgun for you,” you wink at Dean. “We are going to be driving buddies.”

“What are we going to listen to today?” You glance at Dean in the passenger seat. “Dean? Mr. Music. What do you want to listen to?”

“Driver picks the music, sweetheart,” he flashes you a smile, “shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

“Awesome!” You exclaim. “How about…” You look at Dean again. “Ramble on, for starters. And then, we will listen to the best song ever, *Y/F/S!”

“I love that one,” Dean pats your hand. “Maybe we can listen to more Zeppelin and your favorite band later on.” He grins. “We are a perfect match.”

“Of course, we are, Deano!”

“What’s going on?” Sam whispers. “Did I miss something?” He frowns. No one is allowed to touch Dean's car or choose the music. Wait, since when is his brother looking at you like this?

“I think he’s in love with Y/N,” Castiel finally concludes. He nods to himself, convinced that his friend must’ve fallen in love with you. “She looks at Dean with heart eyes.”

“What? How do you know that term?”

“I watched humanity for an eternity,” the angel proudly states. He won’t tell Sam that his new hobby is to search for terms and trends on social media. “If you want to know more about human feelings, ask me.”

“Cas, that’s…” Sam glances at the angel sitting next to him, “good to know…I guess.”

“Hey, stop talking so loudly. We can’t hear our song,” Dean and you mutter in unison. "If you want to stay inside the car, stop talking so much."

“Heaven help us, Cas. My brother is in love with his match…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away - Chapter Fifteen

Warnings: angst, injuries, fluff, flirting.

Words: 1.7k

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: I didn’t have a beta for this, so all mistakes are mine.

You can catch up here!

 My Masterlist AO3    Ko-Fi

“Try to get some rest,” Y/N smiled at her patient and exited the room, heading back to the main desk to see who was next on the list. In two sweet hours, she’d finish her shift and finally get some proper time off.

Jess’ premature departure meant she and all of the nurses on her staff had banded together to cover more shifts than usual as they waited for a temporary replacement to start. It had been exhausting, and Y/N was surprised at how quickly she’d fallen out of the habit of pulling a seventy hour week, but it was finally over. The new nurse had started yesterday, and normal shift service had resumed for her and her team.

There was another reason for her excitement: her date with Dean was in fourteen hours. Not that she was counting. Y/N had been disappointed they had to postpone their date last week, even more disappointed they couldn’t fit it in last week. However, these things happened, and Dean had been right; absence made the heart grow fonder. Not that she’d tell him that. He didn’t need the extra ego boost.

“Y/N”, Dr Ellen Harvelle said as she arrived at the check-in desk, ready to take another patient. “Got an emergency four minutes out. Someone from Firehouse 3 has been injured on a job. Normally I wouldn’t ask, but everyone else is tied up.”

“I’m on it, Dr H,” Y/N replied, trying to push down the dread rising from her stomach. Throwing herself into action, she gowned up and ran to the ambulance bay. Please don’t be Dean or Bobby. Please don’t be Dean or Bobby. Was all that was running through the nurse’s head as she swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

Sirens blaring and lights flashing, the ambulance screeched to a stop in front of them, immediately followed by the firetruck. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, but the second Dean and Bobby jumped from the engine, Y/N exhaled deeply and relaxed.

“You good?” Ellen asked, and she nodded and jumped into action.

“What have we got?” Y/N asked, stepping up to the ambulance and waiting for the paramedic’s assessment.

“Castiel Novak, thirty-five, trapped by a falling beam from the ceiling of a burning building. He was found unconscious, breathing apparatus dislodged. Suspect the collapse of both lungs and damage to the airways from smoke inhalation. Compressions have been ongoing since he crashed about thirty seconds ago,” Jack spoke as he and Jo got the gurney out of the ambulance.

“Alright, Y/N, we’re gonna need to do a ride-along,” Ellen said.

“What can we do?” Bobby asked calmly, though his widened eyes showed his concern.

“We need to keep compressions going. Jack, do everything Y/N tells you. Guys,” she directed to the firefighters surrounding her, “on my say, help me move him to trauma bay three. Y/N? Whenever you’re ready.”

Y/N climbed on the gurney and straddled Castiel’s thighs. “Alright, Jack. On the count of three, pull away, and I’ll take over, okay?” she waited until Jack met her gaze and nodded his understanding before placing one hand on top of the other and clasping her fingers together.

“One, two, three!” Seamlessly, Jack pulled his hands away, and Y/N replaced them with her own, not missing a beat as she began pumping Castiel’s chest firmly.

“Let’s move!” Ellen ordered, and Dean and Benny stepped forward and pushed Castiel and Y/N into the hospital.

Having suffered a collapse of both lungs, a concussion, and damage to his respiratory system from smoke inhalation, Castiel was in a serious but stable condition. He was responding well to treatment, but the next twenty-four hours would be critical, and Y/N knew there would be a vigil of firefighters in the waiting room until he was out of the woods.

With her shift just about over, Y/N checked on Cas one last time and updated his chart before handing his care over to Kevin. She wanted to stay on and work a double, but when she spoke to Rowena about it, the red-head told her that she’d reached her quota of hours for the week and reminded her she’d already pulled two doubles this week and to go home before she fell down and she was the one lying in a hospital bed.

Closing her locker, Y/N threw her purse over her shoulder and let her hair loose from the uncomfortably tight and itchy bun it had been constricted for the past fifteen hours.

Making her way to the waiting room to give the firehouse her final update, she smiled slightly, seeing all the firefighters were no longer in their turnout gear. Jackets and helmets were no longer strewn all over the tables, chairs and floor. Y/N remembered from Pamela and Taylor that half of them would’ve taken the truck back, changed their clothes, and brought food back for the others before they would go back and change out of their gear.

“Y/N, what’s the latest?” Uncle Bobby asked as he saw her standing in the doorway.

“He’s responding well to treatment. His oxygen levels are coming up. There’s still a long way to go, but he’s definitely going in the right direction,” she responded.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for him,” Uncle Bobby smiled and walked towards her. “Is your shift over, Princess?”

“Yeah, I wanted to stay, but-”

“You reached your quota again, didn’t you?” Bobby chuckled.

“Maybe…” Y/N grinned. “But, there were extenuating circumstances this week which have been resolved.”

“So, you’re telling me it’s not gonna become the norm for you to go above and beyond?” he smirked, his eyes twinkling as he teased her.

“I hope not,” Y/N smiled softly, her eyes falling on Dean, and Bobby grinned, hoping, just like his niece, that things would work out between the couple.

“You should say goodbye to him before you go,” Bobby told her softly. Y/N nodded and stepped tentatively towards where Dean stood with Benny and Charlie.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean smiled as she stepped beside him. “Thanks for what you did for Cas.”

“It’s nothing, just doing my job,” she lowered her gaze shyly.

“Modest much?” Charlie chuckled. “What you did was heroic!”

“Oh no, that’s not… I don’t… You guys are the real heroes here,” Y/N shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with the attention.

“Uh, can I talk to you? Outside?” Dean said, gently pushing her towards the door and she nodded gratefully at his timely rescue.

“Thanks for getting me out of there, De,” she giggled as they stepped outside.

“Well, Charlie is right about the modest thing. You’ve never done well with attention or praise,” he chuckled softly. “So, I hate to do this, but about tonight-”

“Hey, it’s fine, Dean. You’re where you need to be, and Cas is more important than our date,” Y/N said.

Dean smiled, grateful that she got it. Though he wouldn’t say Cas was more important than her, he was a higher priority right now. “Thanks for understanding, Princess. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” she grinned.

“Cross my heart,” Dean smirked. “Now, your shift is over, Nurse Singer, and I think you should go home and sleep. You look dead on your feet.”

“Yeah. I feel like I could sleep until I’m back on shift!” Y/N chuckled.

“Well, if you don’t pass out for four whole days,” Dean laughed. “Call me when you’ve had some rest. Maybe we could rearrange our date?”

“I’d like that,” Y/N nodded and tried to suppress a yawn.

“Go home! Text me when you get there so I know you’re safe,” Dean said, kissing her forehead.

“Alright, I’m going! Keep me updated on Cas, please?” she responded as she stepped backwards away from Dean.

“You got it,” Dean smiled, watching her turn around and walk down the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N!” he shouted, smirking when she turned around. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good night, handsome,” Y/N grinned back before turning and continuing down the hallway.

Y/N spent her first day off sleeping for three to four hours, eating, watching television, doing chores for three to four hours, and then going back to sleep. During one of her awake times, she’d called Dean, and he’d happily let her know that Cas was officially “stable” and out of the woods. He’d be on his feet and heading home in no time.

They’d agreed to wait a few days before planning their date so Dean could be on hand to help Cas if he needed it. No doubt he’d be feeling the impact of the damage to his lungs and airways for a few weeks yet and would likely tire doing the most mundane of tasks.

Dean had apologised profusely and again promised to make it up to her, but Y/N convinced him there was no need, and she didn’t mind waiting a little longer for him.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?” she’d teased him.

“So they tell me,” Dean huffed lightly, suggesting just a hint of frustration.

“Come on, De. We’ve waited twelve years. What’s a few more days?” Y/N chuckled, trying to lighten his mood.

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I need to like it, Princess.”

“Aww, are you missing me?” she teased again.

“Yeah, I am,” he sighed, and Y/N’s heart ached.

“Well, I know Cas will be taking up a lot of your time the next few days, but you know where I am if you wanna come over for dinner.”

“If I can, I will, sweetheart,” he sighed again. “Just wish I could promise.”

“Then promise to give me the best second date ever,” she giggled.

“Now that I can promise,” Dean said, and Y/N could hear the grin in his voice.

“Oh, I know you will!” Y/N giggled again, and Dean chuckled softly.

“I gotta go, Princess. I’ll call you later?”

“Can’t wait! Bye, De.”

“Bye, Y/N/N.”

Next Chapter >>

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[ashc-from-ao3]

Darn onions

Human castiel x reader

*sniff*

*sniff*

*sniff*

You stared down at your hands and sniffed again you rubbed your eyes on the back of your hand and choked out a laugh. You never cry not ever

Ghost killing families?

You gulped down your feelings and got the job done

Dean become as a demon?

You can handle it with minimum tears

You get beaten half to death for information by a demon?

Ha! That sucker is going down.

Sam steals your gummy bears? ("Y/N I swear I didn't")

He is buying you more

But this, this is the worst.....the reason you wear crying a simple ingredient for tonight's dinner.....onions, your new mortal enemy as you decided.

You clench your eyes shut and go back to chopping the infernal thing.

Suddenly the rustle of fabric sounds behind you, it's castiel you can feel the once angelic creature carefully watching your every move. He moves closer to you and you gulp, now that cas was human you had quickly found your self attracted to him, his cluelessness was seriously adorable and you had fallen,no angel pun intended, hard for him. You could still feel him studying you and when you turned he looked at you in shock. He rushed over to you surprise all over his face.

"your crying!" He yelped you crack a smile when he places his hand on your face and brushes away the tear, normally you would see this as an act of affection but this was clueless cas and he was just interested in your tears. You laugh and cas looks at you surprised.

"Y/N? Why are you crying are you hurt? Did Sam or dean say something that hurt you? Why are you laughing now? Are you cursed by a witch? Do you need help?" castiel's barrage of questions continued until you placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed.

" I'm fine cas, it's the onions they release a gas that irritates human eyes, I am just crying because of the onions." Cas gently shoved you to the side and glared at the onion making an amusing scene.

"Why are you making Y/N cry? Don't you like her? She did nothing to deserve this." Once again you have to stop cas explaining that the onion can't hear you and it doesn't mean to make you cry. He calms down and you offer to teach him how to cook the simple meal you are making,spaghetti and meat sauce, He accepts your offer and takes over the onions.

"I don't want you to cry anymore" he claims with a determined look on his face .you give him a friendly hug "my golden angel" you joke. Cas stops his cutting(poor mangled onion) and wraps his arms around you. You look up in surprise and it only add to your surprise when he kisses you softly, you sigh and it seems to bring cas back to attention, he leaps backwards looking mortified.

"s-sorry, I am not reacting in a reasonable way" he mutters. You smile softly and move closer to him wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning up to initiate another kiss. The ex-angel returns the kiss and you decide onions are no longer your mortal enemy.

[povcastiel]

ROAD TO REDEMPTION

[ Well, well, well… I’ve been sitting on this for so long, I caved and decided to allow you all into my mind. My first official series! Giddy up ya’ll, it’s time for outlaw Dean Winchester! As always, please, please let me know what you think and if you wish to be tagged on future postings. Series Main Post Here ]

Synopsis | It’s been five years without him. You’ve moved on, made a new life for yourself. But no one can really outrun the past, right?

Tags | Supernatural Western!AU, Cowboy!Dean, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Winchester Brothers, Outlaws, BrothelWorker!Reader, Female!Reader, Priest!Castiel, Dean x Reader

Warnings | Eluding to violence, Minor sexual context, Angst, Loathing, Mentions of blood/harm, Mentions of religion

Word Count | 3k~

Rating | R, MDNI

Barren land stretched on for miles, out in the open with only the stars and moon to spy upon you. A raging fire warmed your cheeks, now a rosy shade and possibly darker if he was to continue looking at you in that way. He stoked the flames a while longer, as they licked higher and higher into the air, until eventually settling. A crackle and pop were the only sounds that passed in the silence between you. Dean rose to his feet. His frame towering and broad. You proceeded to pull the quilt, around your shoulders, more tightly to your hunched form. He tended to the horse in the meantime.

“We’ll have to move by first light.” He informed you, his voice distant but soft.

The hair that was once tucked behind your ear had fallen down against the side of your face. Thick and long, cascading down your back.

“I know…” You murmured, clearly lost within your own thoughts. Your eyes drifted down to the torn, tattered fabric of your lace trimmed dress. Leather boots just as worn to accompany.

Suddenly, he was kneeling in front of you. His hat was left hanging on his satchel. The glow of the fire illuminated his features, delicate for someone so burly and gruff. His face covered in a shadow of stubble, hair long and pushed back. A white undershirt clung to his chest, jeans covered in dirt, barely even a shade of blue. He reached for your hand, wrapped snug in a torn piece of your cotton gown. The blood had soaked through and worry seemed to stretch across his brow when he looked it over.

“It’s okay.” You attempted to reassure him, but your tone wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped. He dismissed it and went on to unwrap the makeshift bandage.

“How bad does it hurt?” He asked, green eyes raging with concern. His soft fingertips ghosted over your wrist, a contrast to how rough they appeared. His hands alone could tell stories of what he’d endured, the life he’s lived.

“Not bad.” You shrugged, as the blanket fell off one of your shoulders. That was a lie. The cut was deep, and had been throbbing the entire journey.

He reached for his canteen of water and laid it in your lap. Encouraging you to hydrate, while he pulled out a familiar silver flask. The cap spun with a metal swirl and before he could chug down what was left, you opted for the alcohol over water. Dean was easily caught off guard, watching the liquid flowing into your mouth. You gulped and bared the sting with tight closed lips, before using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth.

“Easy, darlin’…” He snickered, taking a swig. “Drink some water. You’ll need it.” He insisted, motioning to the jug.

“Are you implying I’m weak?” You quipped with a raised brow.

“I ain’t saying anything, but you tend to find yourself in a lot of trouble.” He chuckled, low in his chest. White teeth gleaming. Such a charmer he was.

…

The thunder crashed on. Rain steady against the roof. Dry ground had now turned to mush. Clear Tusk had been swallowed by the night and just as usual, you had a job to do. Although, given your sympathy, your client duties had been temporarily put on hold. Specifically to aid a young girl. Fresh blood, with a look of naivety. Easy prey.

At least that’s how the men would see it.

It had been her first night. Her acquaintance hadn’t been so friendly. Needless to say, she was reduced to a puddle of emotions. Crying and loathing in self pity. You were one to give her a pass. A simple understanding, as you’d seen yourself in her. There was a time too, in which you had to find your own footing. You just didn’t particularly have this line of work in mind.

Her red strands of hair were now wet streaks against her freckled face. Pursed lips, on the verge of quivering again. She settled her tears on the way to the church. You trudged through mud, stomping it off on the wooden porch and led her in through the front. The door heavily slammed behind you, which left her jumping with fright. You wrapped an arm around her frail form, soothing her fears as your boots clanked and creaked against rotting, old floor boards. Somehow, this place was holding together.

You knew well that Cas, the town’s only priest, would call it ‘the Grace of God.’

Whether you believed that yourself, was another story.

Candles were lit along each pew. The sound of rain was consistent against poorly sealed windows. Which would explain the tin buckets collecting water. Castiel appeared. He must have heard the door. His figure came into view from the other side of the vast, yet cramped, room. He was clutching a bible, his index and middle fingers tucked between the thin pages to keep his place. His black suit blended against the dark tone of the room, his white collar the only means for him to stand out.

He addressed you by name. Familiar and gentle. Despite your lack of religion, Cas brought an inexplicable aura of peace and calmness. You felt safe here and you knew that Merrien would too.

She sniffled and extended a hand to him. He immediately tore his blue orbs off of you and greeted her with a new found warmth. He smiled, tenderly. “Hello. You two seem to be comin’ from something troubling?” He looked between the two of you. His voice full of gravel.

You spoke for her, “She just needs somewhere safe to rest for the night. I thought here would be best.” You clarified the situation, preferring not to go into detail.

Castiel nodded, briefly pausing, but he was quick to regain himself. “Well, right this way.” He extended his arm for guidance. Merrien was reluctant, but she walked ahead of him and toward his study.

Before you could see yourself out, he was turning back and coming toward you. Your hands still clutching the skirt of your dress. You noticed his wandering gaze then, once you had faced him. Surely he noticed the tucked fabric, pinned to your hip and revealing a set of stockings, your bare skin visible, beneath your gown. It was certainly more erotic than he was used to.

The preacher cleared his throat. “You know I’m good for the help, but I really wish you wouldn’t subject yourself to this madness.” He mumbled. Now he sounded like a figure of authority. The treatment you had been desperate to escape from. The prison your father had created.

You averted your gaze, all but scoffing. “I’m serious. You take in a new victim n’ some dirt bag roughs her up.”

“We are not victims!” You hissed, disliking in how he seemed to put the blame on you. As if you led the poor girl into a trap.

“No, but you’ve chosen a life that invites evil. Ever since those Winchester’s rode off you’ve-“ You cut him off. “I’m not here to be guilted to kneel at your altar and confess my sins.” Your tone was biting. “Goodnight, Father.” You turned sharp on your heels and hurriedly made your exit.

…

The man did his best to tend to your wound, ensuring it wouldn’t become infected. You were thankful for his attentiveness. If you were honest, this was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

He used a clean cloth, his bandana rather, to wrap your hand again and secured it with a side knot. After his doctoring, you’d found yourself migrated to the hard ground, using all the blankets he possessed to keep warm. You used his arm for a pillow, while he opted for his jacket, bunched up and rolled to support him.

Somewhere in between the burning heat of flames, your skin, and your feelings—an overwhelming urge washed over you. His leg tucked between your own, half on his side as he hovered above you. His mouth eagerly tasted you in a bruising kiss. It took all the breath from your lungs, for a moment you forgot to breathe entirely. A heavy exhale blew from your nostrils, while your fingers tangled into his chestnut strands. He barely had to touch the sleeve of your dress, before it was hanging off your shoulder. Revealing more of your lithe, warm skin. He kissed you there. His wet lips leaving a trail. First your collar bone. Next, your throat. A soft sigh emits from you and he’s pleased to hear it.

There’s a moment you look at each other. Chests heaving with anticipation. And it’s then that you taste the sweetness of your self autonomy. The choice to be his. The possibility to make a life outside of judgement and fear. Dean’s known this kind of emancipation since his father’s death, even before then. Constantly running. Town to town. Despite the erratic uncertainty, you were envious. And yet, somehow, this man was willing to risk all of it to give you a piece of liberation.

Youthful lust grows heavy. You’re fumbling with his belt, as his hands roughly hike your dress up your legs. You’ve never wanted him more and you’re surprised by your sudden desire, especially after the day’s events.

Then again, it seemed unlikely there’d ever be a moment when you wouldn’t want Him.

…

The anger in the pit of your stomach was bubbling to the surface, rising in your throat, the entire walk back to the brothel. You didn’t even bother to use your shawl, the garment hanging low below your waist and loosely holding at your arms.

You weren’t sure if hearing his name or the insinuation of bad intent had triggered you. Either way, you had your fill for the evening.

Despite your foul mood, the atmosphere remained the same. Music filtered through the bar and up the stairs. Every round table was occupied. The bartender satisfied his customers from a range of stacked liquor, on shelves that nearly looked ready to cave. The room was packed, giving no one a choice but to sweat. Once you entered, their eyes were roaming. A rowdy crowd of cowboys, the town sheriff and his men, along with a few townsfolk. They were all well-known faces. Every last one, a strong reminder of how much you wished to leave.

You climbed the staircase, with limited space from clients nearly over the railing with their public affection. The smell of liquor and cigars lingered, a hard smell to filter. Especially out of your clothes. It was something you’d grown accustomed to.

Your door was left ajar. Pushing it wide open, you disregarded the man inside. You sat behind your vanity and proceeded to pull the pins from your hair, unleashing your mess of hair. Arthur rose from your bed, creaking in its wake. He took a swig from the bottle in his hand.

“I’m not in the mood.” You informed him. You hadn't even bothered to look at him.

He was a routine customer, though you wished he wouldn’t come at all.

Your hands were busy rolling your stockings down, when sat his sweating bottle onto your table. He leaned behind your chair, his fist gathering your hair and forcing you upright. Your reflection met his own in the rounded mirror. Your jaw tightened. It was all just a delightful game for him.

“What do I pay ya for, sweetheart?” He gruffed against your ear. His beard scratching your skin.

You grimaced at his hot breath.

“You’ll do well to know your place.”

“And you’ll do well to call it a night.” You turned toward him. If it hadn’t been your father, you weren’t sure you’d have the confidence to tell off a man half your size. His grip painfully pulled at your scalp. Your nose brushed his, and you weren’t quite sure how his mood would shift. His lips smashed against yours. Sloppy and warm.

Eventually, he released you. Not without force, as your hands gripped the front of your vanity to steady yourself. The small legs skidding against the floor. You exhaled, mainly due to your irritation, as his boots heavily shuffled toward the door. Eventually, his movements were drowned out by the people beyond your room and you rose quickly to slam and latch the door shut. Your hands laid flat against the surface of the wood, head hung low.

There was the unmistakable sensation of emotions welling in your chest. Brutal memories flooding back to torture you and you refused to drown. Not again.

Not after five long years of letting him go.

You’d keep swimming, like always. Just as you had, right after your mother’s sudden death. An event that transformed your father into an unrecognizable monster. Possessed by the all consuming tainted liquid. It replaced his wife, soon it even replaced his own daughter.

Shaky fingers worked on undressing yourself. Layer by layer, lace by lace to undo your corset. The four walls that barricaded you from the outside, were a modest display of your dwelling. A wooden nightstand, lopsided by a shortened leg. On top rested a single candle and your father’s old pocket watch. Your vanity was turned diagonal against the corner and facing toward your bed, a wash basin directly beside that. A trunk and dresser to fit most of the things you owned combined.

There was a part of you that was deemed to feel ashamed of your circumstances. A string of poor choices to lead you here. One starting with your relationship to Dean Winchester.

You’d begin to wonder if he was even alive. Maybe all those bad deeds had caught up with him. ‘May God rest his soul,’ Castiel had always put it, when expressing his worry about the outlaw brothers. Sam, specifically, was always viewed as less threatening than his older sibling. Your truth, on the other hand, was something far different than what the town had depicted.

Their faces covered every post and front door through town. It amused you to think that the posters held any sort of value, in terms of gaining information. It was unlikely they’d show their faces again. So many years had passed, but you were aware that the sheriff had a grudge to hold. You were guilty of the same effect—the inability to move on. The inexhaustible attempts of letting time heal those open wounds. Regardless, Dean was a kind of love that burned until it scarred. And even if by some miracle he came striding back into town, dapper as ever and sweeping you off your feet. It was far too late.

If you hadn’t been able to forgive him after all these years, it was unlikely that day of reckoning would come.

…

The brim of his hat covered his eyes, resting against the bridge of his nose. His brother was concentrated, a journal against his thigh, while he scribbled down his thoughts. The scratching of his pencil was disturbing Dean, propped against the smooth edge of a rock.

“For the love of God Sam, get some rest.” He gruffed, throwing his hat down into the dirt.

“I’m almost done.” He muttered, while proceeding to write out the date at the bottom of the page. Finally, he shut the book and wound the straps around the cover to keep it closed. He stood, tucking the prized possession into his satchel. His boots shuffled against the ground. Dean, opened an eye.

He grunted, proceeded to sit up right. “Gimme that.” He motioned toward the silver flask. Sam bent down to grab the container, before handing it off to his brother.

“What’s going on?” He asked, before chugging down the whiskey. Each gulp burning more than the last. He swallowed the alcohol with ease.

Sam sat back on the blanket, the flames dancing in his eyes. A familiar expression resting on his features. Revealing to Dean that he was anxious.

“I know that look. What is it, Sammy?” He prodded again.

Sam exhaled, “I just… I don't think this is a good idea.” He disclosed.

“What? Goin’ home?” Dean responded, questioning him as if it was obviously their right to do so.

Sam shook his head, glancing out over the stretch of dry land. His eyes slowly following back to Dean.

“You know what I mean.”

“Clear Tusk is our home. We have every right to be there, just as much as those sons of bitches. It ain’t right Sam… you know it.” He ranted, clearly upset by his brother’s reluctance.

Sam accepted defeat on the matter. Despite being worried they wouldn’t have the welcoming Dean anticipated. Not to mention, the possibility of violence or even arrest. Those outcomes never phased his brother, not when he had his heart set on something.

Not that the two men had known any different. Their mother died, as a result of their father’s recklessness. Hellbent on revenge, he raised his children to be just as callous. This, in return, wasn’t enough to stop Sam or Dean from trying to escape. In fact, once Dean had met you, there was hope in the idea that he would, for once, be truly happy. Sam had never seen him so infatuated. Unfortunately, a whirlwind romance like theirs couldn’t stand on two feet. Her father refused the relationship from day one, because of their family’s reputation. Secrecy ensued, as did their demise.

Dean and you had calculated a plan to leave. To run away. The two of you would start over in another town, another place where your faces were unrecognizable.

Of course, after realizing what had transpired, your father caused a ruckus in town. The sheriff rounded his men and where you chose to rest hadn’t been quite far enough.

Aurthur, Kalvin, and Henry had ripped you from Dean in every sense of the word. The image branded into his mind, painfully. Your screams, all for him, forever haunting. The other two had subdued him with a few blows. Intent on killing him. He regretted never turning back for you. Like a coward, he ran to meet his brother.

In those long few days, you actually waited. Something Dean wasn’t aware of. Starving and locked in your room, you laid beneath your window. Listening for his arrival, his return to rescue you. Gradually, agonizingly, the days turned into weeks, turned into months.

Eventually, Dean settled his mind and folded his arms over his chest, before laying back. “Go to sleep…” He muttered to his brother.

By morning… the Winchester’s would be back.

[alexiswritingstuff]

Human - Pt. 2

Masterlist

Status: Complete.

Pairing: Castiel x gn! reader.

Summary: Now that the fallen angel had been located, it was finally time to relax. Though, when the reader spotted Castiel’s lack of an iconic coat, a new journey was just about to begin. 

Content/Warnings: fluff, descriptions of sensory overload/overstimulation. 

Parts: one - two - three

A/N: This was originally supposed to be longer, due to the addition of another scene, but while writing it I realised that it was quite lengthy. I’m not sure what people’s opinions on long posts are.

So, I guess my question, now, is...

Would you guys like a part 3??

Tag list: @elizabeth-skywalker -  @aliceblxck​

Dusk had fallen a few hours ago. 

A deep amber light shone through the gaps in the curtains that draped across the window, and the beams blared onto any surface it could. Including the exposed skin of your face whenever you leaned down to take a bite.

Your back smoothed against the chair beneath you, the gaze, that was once on the food in your hands, shifting when a sigh had come from the other side of the table.

By the time your eyes had actually landed on the culprit, he had taken another chunk out of his own sandwich. It was a hasty movement. One that ended with some filling stuck to the corners of his mouth, crumbs spilling onto his lap.

There was an odd feeling that resided in your chest as you watched Castiel practically scoff down his food. 

You couldn’t tell if it was because of him generally eating in the first place, or because the last time that you had seen him eat like this was when you had that run in with Greed.

But either way, he looked... happy. Relieved. At peace. 

Who knows the last time he felt that.

Cas must have sensed your stare as he suddenly met it with almost half-lidded eyes. “What?” he questioned. But of course, it was through a mouthful of food. You couldn’t recreate the sound if you tried.

Amused by the attempt, a smile threatened to form on your lips while you shook your head. Only just managing to have swallowed down your own mouthful. 

“Nothing, nothing.” you insisted, and placed your sandwich onto the extra piece of saran wrap to now use as a plate, “So.” You cleared your throat, “How are you adjusting to, you know...”

“Feeling?”

Castiel made another sound, that seemed to be in acknowledgement, as he took in your question. Though, when he actually went to speak... his mouth was still full. 

You slightly leaned forward in your chair, awaiting Cas to get rid of the sandwich reminants. And soon he did, even taking a moment to check that all of it was gone. “I seem to have forgotten how... truly, intense hunger feels.”

“The need to fill your stomach, the endless amount of tastes,” His eyes fell back to the sandwich in his hands, “And this.” Castiel continued before holding it up, as if it couldn’t be seen already, “It’s extraordinary.”

“Cas, It’s just peanut butter and jelly.” you pointed out after tilting your head to the side, the amusement you felt never seeming to fade. 

“Exactly,” Castiel affirmed without an ounce of hesitation. Those eyes of his had settled on yours once again, and a look of wonder, fascination, swirled through them. 

“How does one think of such a combination?”

It was a good question. One that hadn’t actually gone through your mind before, meaning that now you were sat looking into the distance as you thought. Searching for an answer. “Uh...”

“Well, I guess, for me... It’s through a form of habit?” you finally spoke with a shrug of your shoulders. “I was already eating one when I made it, so... I thought it would be nice for you to try.”

“I guess I was right.”

In that moment, the hungry movements from the opposite side of the table abated. 

Castiel narrowed his eyes, “You made this?” He spoke with such genuine surprise, his head tilting the way it usually did when he had some kind of revelation.  

“Mhm,” you hummed slowly, not entirely knowing how to react to the shift of atmosphere, which included the new expression on his face. Your body leaned into the back of the chair. “Like, I said,” You shrugged, “It’s just Peanut Butter and Grape Jelly.”

But despite your attempts to escape the sudden attention, whatever it was that radiated off of Cas never faltered. 

He had even stopped chewing his food, and was now sat staring at you with this look in his eyes. A light smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“What...” you attempted to question. However, when you actually caught onto the way his lips had shifted, a warmth suddenly shot through your body.

“Just-- Eat your sandwich.” You waved your hand with your words, wanting to dismiss the spotlight in any way possible, and ended up crossing your arms over your chest with a light huff. 

The smile on Castiel’s face only grew in response to your actions. And even though he complied to your dismissal, digging back into the sandwich he practically adored, it wasn’t something he was going to forget. 

“It’s not like I’m Gordon Ramsay, or whatever.” you breathed out through the raised embarrassment. Seemingly stuck in the past conversation, even though Cas was ready to move on. 

The man himself had tried to ask a question. But yet again, it appeared that he had taken a bite moments prior, and it came out as a mumble yet again.

It was a sound that made you forget about the heat that ran through the skin of your hands, and you looked back to Cas, noticing the familiar display of confusion across his features.

“The chef.” you pointed out, once you realised that it was the name that had caused his reaction... But the look remained. 

His head tilted again. 

“He’s a chef. Like one of the most known chefs-- You really don’t know who he is?” 

After taking a moment to properly think, Cas shook his head, swallowing, “I’m afriad I’m not very well versed in anything cookery related.”

You could only hum in response as you looked at him.  

Obviously, It was understandable that he had a lack of knowledge when it came to ‘popular’ things. Especially because of the amount of shit that has been going on, literally, since he stepped on earth for the first time. 

But you thought that he would at least have heard about the chef.

I mean, even Crowley could make some stupid comment about him.

 “Well,” you began after clearing your throat, realising that you had been lost in thought. You straightened your body against the chair beneath you, “We can change that.”

“Actually, since you need to eat now, it would be good to see how things get made.” you pointed out, a smile appearing on your lips at the idea, “I can at least teach you the basics.”

The sandwich in Castiel’s grasp had been offically demolished. “I would like that.” he said as he folded the loose saran wrap. He placed it on the table, moving his hand up to wipe at the crumbs, or contents of the sandwich, that clung to the corners of his mouth. 

As your eyes followed the movement, however, your attention seemed to shift to the sleeve of his jacket. Or rather, the material that it was made of. “Hey,”

It wasn’t the same type, or colour, that you were used to.

“What happened to your coat?”

“My coat?” Cas questioned through a breath, the look of satisfaction clear across his face as he sunk a little in his chair. An action that made it apparent that he was only half listening. 

“Yeah, the trench coat.” you clarified. And it did the trick. You had his attention. 

Castiel’s, once practically half lidded, eyes seemed to have widened slightly. “Oh.”

The voice he spoke through was one you almost didn’t catch. His eyes avoided your gaze. His chin even lowered in a way that looked like he was ashamed. Or guilty. “There was... a small altercation that left it, uh, stained.”

“I only had a certain amount of money.” He cleared his throat, “I could either have used it on one of the washing facilities, or used it to acquire something to consume, and well I...”

“I must say, I was rather thirsty.”

The muscles in your face were tight. Tense. The reminder of how long it took to actually find Cas, in the first place, was now back and fresh, in your mind. 

A deep breath filtered through your lungs as you looked at the man before you. The tired, drained, expression resurfaced across his features the more time your eyes spent analysing the skin. A look you had to fix.

“Would you like to go get another one then?”

The reaction was instant this time. His gaze had practically snapped to yours, almost like he forgot you were even there, as confusion emanated from the man once again. “What?” 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged your shoulders, “There’s still a good few hours until the stores begin to close.” you pointed out before gesturing towards the duffle bag, that now resided on the bed, “It’s not like there’s a portable wardrobe in there with endless shoes and coats.”

The next time you spoke, your voice was less casual. Softer, “We can get anything you like, Cas.” An attempt to sweeten the deal, “Maybe... an entierly different coat, or-- or you know, even the same one you had-- Whatever, you want, man, that’s up to you.”

“... That sound good?”

The eye contact that the two of you held never begged to break. The simplicity of your words. The way you made such an offer without hesitation. The way you had said all of it and meant it...

Castiel was baffled.

His lips had parted during the process of astonishment, but it seemed that nothing could form. And there he was all over again. Stuck staring at you like he had won a grand prize. 

“Yes,” Cas managed out after a good few seconds, though it didn’t even look like he knew he had said it. 

But once the final cog had turned in his head, his entire demeanour shifted. 

A certain expression took over his face. It was one that you couldn’t quite recognise as you looked back and forth between those eyes of his. Before you could’ve even tried to ask, however. “Yes, Y/n.”

“It sounds... good.”

~

The two of you had arrived at one of the local clothing branches. The automatic doors slid open when they detected your presence, almost giving the man beside you a heart attack in the process. 

Once you were actually inside, a deep breath filled and exited your lungs as you took in the plethora of items hung on racks, or placed on shelves. 

You were excited. The many shopping sequences you had seen in movies and TV shows had prepared you for this very moment.

“Well,” You didn’t even look at Cas when you spoke. So caught up in the moment that you, somehow, ended up missing the part where you had literally grabbed onto his hand.

“Let’s get started.”

And then you were off. Practically dragging Castiel in any direction that you possibly could.

It was exactly as you imagined.

The next few minutes were spent shuffling through the different shirts on hangers. You would do that thing where you got Cas to stand in front of you, and put the item of clothing on his chest so that you could measure the size of it, compared to him.

The estimate you got may always have been a bit off, considering the fact that he was still wearing that blue jacket, but he didn’t seem to mind it. 

Thus, your journey had continued.

Now, two of you were near the centre of the store, stopping at one of those circular racks so that you could flick through the array of trousers to join the shirts that had been previously slung over your shoulder. “Hey, Cas,”

“You can go look around by yourself if you want?” you began with a sort of laziness from being too focused on the different materials, “I know what stuff to get now, so you can...”

You had spared a glance to Cas midway through speaking.

It was a simple test to gage whether he was actually listening to you or not, as he hadn’t really spoken much since you got there. But when your eyes landed on him, for what was supposed to be a split second, you got your answer.

His head was shaking before you had even finished.

The thing was, though, his gaze wasn’t directed towards you. His eyes were flickering around, almost wildly. His body twisted one way, and then another, in an attempt to take in his surroundings. 

It wasn’t working.

The chatter from various pairs of people, the faint lights above that would flicker ever so slightly from being there, probably, since the store first opened, the different colours of clothes that seemed to blend together the faster Castiel moved his eyes.

It was all new.

You had been so caught up in the excitement; the act of being able to do something for Cas, in return for his continuous generosity, that you had forgotten he was experiencing all of this for the first time.

Feeling all of this for the first time.

So, after mentally cursing at yourself for at least a minute, you moved about a step closer to the man who was still making attempts to process everything around him. And didn’t stop until you could place your hand on his arm. 

Cas looked towards you with such speed that it took your brain a moment to actually acknowledge it when your palm had touched down.

But as soon as it did, you recognised the realisation that began to battled its way through the panic set in his eyes. Finally, he had found something familiar after the constant attacks to his senses.

“How about we go find where the jackets and coats are, huh?” you suggested as lightly as you could while Cas took in a deep breath t to further ground himself.

And when he was able to give you an answer, which in this case was a nod of his head. That was exactly where you went. 

Now, the two of you had begun to look through the items held up by coat hangers, starting at the edges of the racks before working your way towards the middle.

There were quite a few that Cas expressed interest for. He would grab onto the sleeve, and let his fingers trace, back and forth, over the fabric to properly understand the texture.

The problem was, though, that Castiel never had a picky side to him. Almost every jacket, every coat he looked at, there was a list of pros that he could recite as if it was always locked inside of his brain somewhere.

But, after coming across one coat in particular, he unhooked the hanger from the rack. Slightly lifting it so that he could see the full thing. 

Another trench coat.

It shared an incredible resemblance to the one that any person would have seen him in. Same length, same design, and almost the exactly same buttons. 

I mean, to be fair, it was at least a shade darker.

“Is that the one then?”

Castiel had begun nodding his head immediately, “Oh yes,” he breathed out, and lifted the item in front of him so that he could fully see it. His fingers dragged over the length of fabric until they got to the bottom. “Yes, I would say so.”

“Here,” you spoke after getting an idea and grabbed Castiel’s forearm, pulling him along once again before he could utter a word.

Your movements halted at the end of the aisle, the two of you were currently in, which was exactly when Cas’s eyes found his reflection staring right back at him. A mirror.

The man sort of stood there for a moment. Gazing at the face, that was doing the same to him, before his attention dragged over to you. As if asking for confirmation.

“See if it fits.” you stated simply with a gesture towards the coat in his hands. 

And he did exactly that. Castiel slid the coat off of the hanger, passed it to you, and then began pulling the material over his--

“No, no, Cas,” He paused his movements, “Take-- You need to take that jacket off first, and then... Yeah,” you pointed out, your words fading away when he seemed to get the gist. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Soon, yet another piece of clothing joined the pile that slung over your shoulder. You repositioned Cas so that he now stood directly in front of the mirror. 

“All right.” The coat was now in your hands as you moved behind him. You draped it over his shoulders, moving to his left side in order to guide where his arm needed to go so he could do the rest...

But that’s when your eyes found something on his upper arm.

There was a jagged slit in the material of his shirt. A dark, dryish, stain surrounded it, and contrasted with the original colour of the button up in a way that made it easy to see what shade the substance was before it had seeped through.

Red.

“Cas, is that...” You, gently, pushed him back round when he turned to face you, the coat slipping from his shoulders and almost landing on the floor until it recoiled in your grasp, “That’s-- Cas, that’s blood, what... What happened?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?”

Castiel sort of crained his neck so that he could see over his shoulder. And then he spotted it. “Oh,” he spoke with such simplicity that had your eyebrows furrowing within seconds. “I... I must have forgot.”

“For--- How could you forget an injury like this?” you questioned immediately, and swung the trench coat over your shoulder. “If it’s bleeding like that, then... Cas, this most likely needs stitches.”

Your hands raised to his upper arm so that it could be properly inspected. “Do you even know how to clean a wound?”

As your fingers gently tested the surrounding area, trying to gage just how big this injury was. You realised that there had been no response to your previous ramble of questions.

Not a word.

So, while continuing your inspection, you let your eyes quickly flicker to Castiel’s face that was still aimed in your direction. Only to see that he was looking right back at you. That same fondness tugging at his features.

Your movements mildly froze for a second, your eyes flicking between the two oceans that seemed to flow to your soul. And then you sighed, forcing your focus back to wound with a new heat rising in your chest.

“All right, look,” You cleared your throat, “This... I’m going to fix this when we get back ho-- to the motel.” you insisted, taking a step back from Cas so that you could point a finger at him. “And you’re going to tell me everything that happened.”

“Everything.” you further insisted, and watched as Castiel sort of sighed before he nodded in understanding. “Okay.” he agreed.

Your head shook in an attempt to dismiss the amusement that still radiated off of Cas nevertheless. “Good.” you huffed, patting him on the back before retrieving the trench coat from your shoulder. “Now.”

“Actually try that on, and then we can figure out what else you need.”

~

Finally. After the shopping spree that was fit for a movie was completed, and night had officially claimed the sky. It was time to go home.

Piles of bags and boxes were shoved in the boot as well as onto some of the seats, meaning that by the time two bodies had flopped into their rightful places. The car was beyond full. “Right, so.”

“Got clothes, including a new coat, got shoes, got more food. And now…?” you listed off while your body leaned into the seat. Your fingers grasped the steering wheel while your eyes searched through the rearview mirror to find the other pair.

“We can go back to the motel.” Castiel confirmed, and a fresh feeling of relief flooded through your body, though you never showed it. “You know what? Good call.” Was the only thing you said before the car was started up.

The journey home had begun.

Light from streetlamps, still open stores and restaurants were the only things that illuminated the car. You had no idea what time it was, but for the first time in a while. You honestly didn’t care.

“Are you sure you’re alright sitting back there?” you questioned for like the third time, since before you even got in the car. “I completely forgot about the stuff I had in here already, I didn’t--”

“Y/n.” Cas spoke suddenly with the usual deep voice. Only this time it sounded more emphasised, due to his amusement at having yet another question to answer. “It’s alright.”

“You’ve done… more than enough for me today.” he continued once your eyes had found him again, the enjoyment in his voice turning into sincerity. “I think I can handle sitting in the back of a car for about 10 minutes.”

At least for a second.

“Okay, okay,” you huffed, letting out a slight laugh before properly focusing on the road ahead... Or trying to, “… For sure?”

“Yes.” 

Due to his response time, and due to the fact that you have been the one speaking the most throughout the whole day, a silence fell upon the car. It was comfortable. Calming.

The problem with that, however, was that when things went completely quiet around another person, your mind would become the most active.

So there you were, letting your fingers tap against the steering wheel. You started to bite at your bottom lip, and even tried to hum a song inside your head, all in an attempt to contain yourself.

But as soon as your brain went back to the fact that there was another living, breathing human in your presence.

“You warm enough back there?”

It beat you in this fight.

“I have multiple layers on.” Cas pointed out after a second, confusion audible in his voice. You simply shrugged, “I know, but… I mean, it was a little cold out. I was just… I was just wondering.”

“Well,” the man in the back paused, seeming to reposition himself as the sounds of plastic and paper bags echoed around your ears. And once he found the right spot, “I’m doing just fine.”

A deep breath seeped through your lungs, “Good. That’s... good, yeah.” you insisted, your mind pausing for only a moment so that you could turn onto another street, “Just-- You know. It gets a lot colder around this time of year.”

Castiel shuffled slightly, “Is that so?” His voice had a haze to it this time. It was a sound that went unbeknown to you, as you had been so distracted by thinking and driving. 

But if anyone else had heard, it would have been clear as day.

“Yep.” you confirmed with a nod of your head, though at this point, the person it was aimed at couldn’t see it. “In fact, it can make people more prone to getting sick-- There was this one time, like ages ago, where I went on a walk, at night, and forgot a jacket.”

Cas hummed in response.

A huff of air whistled through your lips at the recollection, “It was fine at first, but then... Man, it was a terrible time.”

He hummed again. More of a murmur this time.

“I had to run... Well, not run,” you interjected, “But... I had to jog super quick back to Bobby’s, and, oh man, he-- He was not... He called me the biggest idjit ever.” The memory came to a close in front of your eyes. 

All the images that you were flicking through had gone, and now you were left with an unwelcome reminder. “Yeah, no, it was... definitely not fun.” 

Your voice had quieted, the urge to speak, in comparison to earlier, dimming down by a lot. However, after spotting a passing sign, you had realised that the journey was close to the end.

“Hey, uh, Cas, do we... Do we need anything else before we get back?” you began after clearing your throat, making sure that you had a steady hand on the wheel, before attempting to meet the mans eyes through the rear view mirror. “Any essentials, or...”

There was no response.

“Anything?” you spoke again, thinking that he had just not heard.... 

But an answer never came. 

You peeled your eyes away from the dark route ahead, and grabbed onto the mirror when you realised that you couldn’t actually see Castiel in its position.

“Cas?”

You glanced to the road once again, making sure that you weren’t gonna drive off or more importantly hit someone, before they went straight back to look through the glass.

At this point, it was very dark in the car. The light, here, was only from street lamps, and even then, they were slightly spaced apart.

So, after the mirror had been lowered, and one of the lamps had illuminated the car as it passed by. You had finally got a glimpse of what lay amidst the darkness. 

A sight that had caught you by surprise.

Castiel had fallen asleep.

next

[eeveebitches]

not him. || Endverse!Castiel || Smut

Pairing: Endverse!Castiel x GN!Reader

Word count: 1.328

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Masturbation (that's all Cas), voyeurism (hey, that's you!), dirty talk to the MAX, name-calling, facial (GN receiving), a few lines of degradation, self-hatred taken literally via endverse!cas shit-talking og cas

Summary: Endverse!Cas shows you that he's not the angel he used to be

A/n: My first ever Tumblr fic post! This is just an old-ish AO3 piece of mine, but I'll be posting new fics soon! I just wanted to keep it simple for my first post here :^)

_______________________

"Are you seriously jerking off?"

Castiel nods lazily, shooting you a smile that's all teeth.

All you were doing was asking him some questions about the future. How he ended up the way he did, what life with a very limited amount of toilet paper was like, if he remembered any winning lottery numbers- you know, the pressing matters. What you hadn't expected was for him to suddenly ask you a question instead.

"Would you mind if I touched myself?"

You stilled at that. He didn't seem very fazed by the question he asked, a light smirk adorning his features as he raised his brows. Refusing to let him get the best of you, you neutralized the previous shock on your face, nodding.

"... sure, go ahead. Not like it's anything special, right?" He laughed at that, mumbling a small 'right' as he let his hand snake down. You obviously didn't think he'd actually do something. At most he'd grab his junk a bit to freak you out– to keep up his amphetamined walls and keep you from actually getting some actual emotional connection, you thought.

You thought wrong.

And now here you are, gawking at the fallen angel as he slowly rubs his cock from inside his loose pants. He's staring at you, eyes boring into your skull as he quietly pants at each loose-handed stroke. His toothy grin hasn't faltered, like he's taunting you to speak– to keep talking like he wasn't doing anything. To be as confident in your neutrality of the situation as you were minutes prior.

Doing so feels like a trap in itself, though. Like you'd be admitting to being just as sexually deviant as him.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asks playfully before pulling his hand away, only to spit in his palm. As you think of something to say he continues his lazy pace, although now the sound of his slicked-up hand is filling your ears. Scared that you might stutter, you simply shake your head. He laughs at that- at you. "Past me was far too reserved with you. You're enjoying this, I can tell." You frown at the mention of his past self– your Castiel. You finally muster up the courage to speak. "Not like you're not him."

Castiel scoffs at that before unceremoniously pulling his erection out, letting your eyes take in all of him as he tightens his grip. "Oh, I'm definitely not him, sweetheart. That sad fuck could never come close to what I could do to you," he groans out, eyes squeezing shut as he relishes in the friction of his palm. He opens his eyes back up to look at you, though, and when he sees you he can't help but let out a rough chuckle. Your eyes are heated.

He leans back further, pulling the front of his pants down to give you a better view of his leaking cock as he continues fisting his hand, the sound of wet skin rubbing against skin becoming louder by the second. "Enjoying the view?"

All you can muster up is a strained groan. Your hands are sweating, but you don't want to wipe them off on your jeans. He'd see the effect he has on you, and you refuse to give him that satisfaction. You'd rather just pretend you're not melting into a puddle at the sight of the usually angelic being fucking into his hand.

"You know," he huffs out, "I always pretend it's your mouth around me. That- fuck- , that you take my cock deep, like the little slut I'm sure you are." Castiel's movements are frantic now, pushing his loose blouse up to hold up between his teeth as he ruts against his hand, head thrown back as low moans climb up his throat and roll off of his lips.

You don't dare to move. Heat is pooling at the pit of your stomach, threatening to spill into your actions, but you remain still as you watch him. His now revealed stomach is glistening with newly formed sweat and visibly stuttering at each heavy-handed stroke. Then your eyes go lower, admiring the happy trail that leads your glance down to his cock.

“Want a closer look?” he half-chuckles half-groans out, and before you can reply he’s suddenly much too close . You can feel his heavy breaths against your neck as his head hangs low, practically nuzzled into your collarbone. 

One look down and you can see it all. The veins of his rough hand that he’s using to stroke himself, the pre-cum threatening to spill over onto his fist, even the way his thumb sometimes rolls over the head of his cock. Any time he does so you can hear and feel his breath hitch against you.

“I wanna fill you up so fucking bad, just– fuck, just pump into that tight hole of yours,” he moans out sinfully against the shell of your ear. It’s all too much for you, so the needy moan that you let out is your way of giving up; your white flag.

Castiel’s moans grow louder after that, like your surrender is an aphrodisiac to him. “I knew you’d love this, you fucking slut. You like being defiled by me. Old me would’ve never done this with you, because he was a pussy, but me? I, shit– I would bend you over and fuck the lights out of you. I’d make you forget that whiny fuck of an angel with my cock.”

You let out another desperate moan, squeezing your eyes in the hopes that it’ll make it all less stimulating. His breaths come out heavier by the second, leaving your neck damp with his condensation and your own sweat. Your eyes are still aimed low, entranced as you watch his pace quicken.

"Shitshitshiiiiiit, fuck come here, let me- shit, let me cum on your face, god, c'mon," he gasps out. You’re ashamed as to how easily you let yourself fall back onto the ground as he positions himself to hover above your chest, giving you an up-close view as he chases his orgasm.

With a broken moan he finishes, ripping a gasp out of your lungs as he covers your face with ropes of cum. It’s hot, yet as you curiously lick some off your lips you can’t help but hum at the sweetness of it. 

Castiel’s breathy chuckle rips you from your hazy state. His cheeks are still flushed, forehead still glistening with sweat and his hair tousled beyond belief. “See? Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he hums out teasingly as he carefully tucks his length back into his pants. After standing up, he grabs a tissue box, handing it to you with a smirk you know you won’t be able to get rid of. 

“Wouldn’t want Dean seeing you like this, would you? ” The way you roll your eyes is forced, something he can immediately tell as you bite the inside of your cheek. The delighted twinkle in his eyes makes your stomach churn, and for once you decide to not take on the challenge of seeming nonchalant. You simply look away from Castiel’s amused gaze, wiping off the remaining release and quickly standing up yourself.

“I’m leaving,” you hiss out as you finally get to wipe the sweat of your hands on your jeans. With a huff you throw the soiled tissue into the nearest garbage can, walking to the closed door ready to open it.

“Wait.”

The sigh that leaves your body is heavy as you turn around. Your attempt at hiding your previous flush is futile– your lips still stutter as you look at him, memories from moments before immediately flooding back. “What is it?”

Castiel walks up to you, runs his thumb over your bottom lip and sucks off the remaining cum off his finger, his eyes on yours the entire time. With a sinful ‘pop' he finishes cleaning his thumb off.

He smirks.

“Told you I’m not him.”

[impala-dreamer]

Everlong - Chapter Fourteen

A Supernatural Series

~Y/N has everything she’s ever wanted - the love of a good man, a best friend she can lean on, drama, magic, and heroics. But everyone knows, things aren’t always what they seem.~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, Rowena, Castiel, Others

Chapter Fourteen Word Count: 1730

Everlong Masterlist ~ Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works  ~  Buy Me A Coffee  ~  Feedback is Gold

There was no sweetness in the darkness, only more of the same desperate pain. 

Y/N woke with a jolt, pushing herself up against the headboard as Dean’s bedroom came into view. The light was dim and the air was cool, scented with the familiar blend of whiskey and lingering smoke. Dean had been sneaking out more often in the last weeks, hiding out on the steps or in the woods behind the Bunker, stealing cigarettes when he could. She pretended not to notice, but the stains on his fingers and the musky air of his kisses were obvious. 

Dean.

Y/N rubbed her eyes and patted the bed beside her. The blanket was tucked tight around her lap and his side was empty. She sighed. 

He was slumped down in the desk chair at the foot of the bed. His cheek rested on his hand, his elbow teetering precariously on the arm of the chair. His mouth was slack, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner, and his face was pale. He’d been sitting watch all night and most of the day. 

Y/N felt a stab of guilt. He was wasting away just as surely as she was. 

“He is.” 

Chuck appeared at the edge of her bed, sitting pretty where Dean should have been. He smiled sadly and looked back over his shoulder at the slumbering man. 

“You’re killing him, Y/N.” 

Her hands shook, fingers clawing at the sheets to steady herself. 

“All this drama with you, it’s really taking a toll on him. Do you realize he’s up to almost a pack a day now? And I can assure you, his liver is about to fail from all the bourbon-”

“Go away,” she whispered, wary of waking Dean. “Please.” 

Chuck sighed and patted the bed by her leg. “Nah. Come with me. Let’s take a walk.” 

Y/N was startled by the calmness of his request. She had so gotten used to terrific horrors being tossed at her, that the idea of a casual stroll seemed horribly out of place. 

She hesitated. 

Chuck smiled and nodded towards the door. “Come on.”

Dean let out a gentle snore as Y/N slipped off of the bed. She tiptoed by him without a sound and followed Chuck through the door.

A shivering breeze struck her cheeks and she looked around with a gasp, finding herself outside of the Bunker. She was at the bottom of the steps and Chuck stood at the top, beckoning her to join him. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, hissing as the coldness from the old stone stairs bit into her barefeet. 

“That’s a good question, Y/N.” Chuck turned to face her. “Where are we going?” 

She scoffed. “You brought me out here.” 

He nodded. “True. But where is here?” 

She bit her lip, confused. 

“No where,” he answered for her. “We are no where. This is nothing.” He lifted his palms to the sky and turned, showing off the gloomy afternoon. “This isn’t real.” 

Y/N squinted into the light. “What are you talking about?” 

“What’s behind the Bunker, Y/N?” 

She stumbled, unable to find an answer. “It’s… uh… nothing. It’s woods.” 

Chuck smiled. “And how far is it to town?” 

Again, she had no real answer. “I don’t know, a few… miles…” 

“East or west?” 

“What?” 

“Which way is it?” 

Her stomach ached, churning with nerves. She turned in a circle, trying to point the way. “Left?” 

Chuck hummed to himself and took off, walking briskly up the hill and into the woods. 

“Wait! Where are you going!” Y/N followed, toes scraping over the fallen leaves and damp ground. “Hey! Asshole!” 

As Chuck disappeared into the brush, a heavy rain began to fall and Y/N shivered as the droplets peppered her skin. She took off in a rush, somehow outrunning the downpour. It cascaded down in sheets behind her, chasing but never catching. It nipped at her heels, whipped at the nape of her neck, teasing, pushing, taunting. 

“Chuck!” 

Y/N’s voice faded in the wood, caught by the pines, swallowed whole and without mercy. She pounded the ground, pumping her fists until her lungs burned and she was sure she would collapse. 

Chuck was waiting for her in a small clearing. He stood next to a trio of stones that sprang up from the ground as Y/N approached. 

“What is this?” she asked, doubling over as she struggled to catch her breath. “What are we doing?” 

Chuck gestured to the stones and the objects on top. “It’s time for you to choose.” 

Her chest ached. “Choose what?” 

“Your fate.” 

The rain finally caught up, circling the clearing and drowning out the rest of the forest. Trees vanished behind the waterfall but the sky was bright around them.

Awed by the trick of the rain, Y/N shook her head at Chuck. “You’re not real. You’re not really here. I’m just… I’m going crazy.” 

“Already there,” he teased, blue eyes glistening in the light. 

“Fuck you.” 

Chuck laughed, impressed by her gall. “You know, if you’re wrong, you just told God to fuck off.” 

She was nervous but unwilling to bend. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not real.” 

He bit his lip, choosing his words carefully. “How do you know I’m not?” 

Strangled tears welled in her eyes. “Because nothing’s been real for weeks! You’re just… a hallucination, a nightmare. Nothing is real.” 

Chuck grinned and snapped his fingers. “That’s just it. Nothing is real. This forest, the Bunker, Dean, Sam. None of this is real. It’s all in your head.” 

“You’re lying.” 

He shook his head sadly. “I wish I was, but I’m not. Think about it- when did this all start?” 

“Wha- when did it start?” She stammered. “I-I don’t know. It- a few days ago, I guess.” 

“Days, weeks, a month, it’s all the same, isn’t it? Time is just you moving from one mess to the next.” 

There was a truth burning behind his words and Y/N turned away, refusing to acknowledge it. 

“No.” She grit her teeth, ignored the tingling in her veins. “This is real. I’m real. Dean’s real. Me and Dean. Always.” 

Chuck laughed. “And how long have you known him?”

Her temples throbbed. “What?” 

“When did you meet him? Sam? Where was it? On a case? Were you a hunter before? A civilian? What?”

She struggled to answer but the facts were twisted and blurry in her head. “I… I don’t know…” 

“Because it’s not real, Y/N.” 

He sounded almost sad for her, but the rage inside of her was burning. She closed her eyes, willing him to vanish. 

“No.” 

“When was the last time you were on a hunt? They’re constantly catching cases, fighting some big bad, but you’ve been distracting them for weeks now. And then there’s there attitudes. Sam doesn’t seem to think there’s a problem with your nightmares, Dean is all lovey dovey. Doesn’t seem likely, does it? All seems a little… out of character.” 

Her stomach dropped, her shoulders fell. He was right. Everything was slightly off in her world: the color, the sound, their actions, words. 

The rain inched closer, shrinking the circle. 

She took a step closer to the stones. 

“So none of this- this is all in my head?” 

Chuck nodded solemnly. “It is.” 

Belief rustled through her and she took another step as the rain grew closer.

“What do I do?” 

He held out a hand, gesturing to the stones. Atop the first one was Dean’s pistol, the pearl handle shinging beautifully in the warm sun. The second stone held an orange bottle of pills with a white label. The last rock was empty and she looked up at Chuck. 

“What is this?” 

“A choice.” Chuck walked around to stand behind the stones opposite Y/N. “You can end this, stop the terror…” 

Her gaze fell over the pistol and a gunshot rang out, making her cringe and dig her nails into her sides. 

“Push the pain far away…” 

She looked at the pills and tasted the bitterness on her tongue, the sluggish weight of the drugs pulling her down. 

“Or, you can stay here.” 

Y/N found the empty spot and clung to it, wanting to stay, needing it. 

“You can end your life and be free, or stay here and kill him.” 

In a flash, Dean was there, standing to her right. 

“Y/N, don’t do this.” 

His cheeks were stained and he held up his hands, begging her to stop. Green eyes flickered down to her hands and Y/N followed them, looking down to find his pistol there.

She gasped, suddenly aware of the weight of the loaded gun. She turned it in her hand, hooking her finger against the trigger. 

“Y/N! Come on, baby, give me the gun…” 

Dean took a tentative step towards her and Y/N raised the gun. 

“Dean?” 

Chuck clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Look at him, Y/N. Look how thin and pale he’s gotten. You’re killing him. You can’t stay here.”

She stared at Chuck, nodding. “Yeah… Yeah. You’re right.” 

Dean clapped his hands together loudly. “Hey! Look at me! I’m right here. Remember? You and me. This is real. Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real, baby. I’m real. You and me.” 

“Whatever you’re seeing, Y/N/N, it’s not real… please…” 

 The phantom voice startled her. It was Dean but not Dean. Gentiler, smoother. 

“Come on, baby. Don’t do this…”

Y/N shuddered and closed her eyes to everything, trying to figure out what was real, what was the dream. Her head was spinning; her body ached. She pressed the muzzle to her temple and held her breath. 

Chuck laughed. “Go on… do it.” 

“Hang on Y/N… please, God… hang on…” 

Trembling, Y/N tapped the gun against her skull. Nothing made sense, nothing was real. 

The rain closed in around them. She could feel it casting a mist against her cheeks. 

“Y/N…”

Giving up, she inhaled deeply and opened her eyes, finding green staring back. She smiled slowly and exhaled as she pulled the trigger. 

Dean lunged for her, knocking the pistol from her hand. 

They fell to the ground as the rain overtook the clearing and Dean’s scream was drowned out by a distant crash of thunder. 

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