#misha collins fanfiction

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Your Little Secret

Pairing: Misha Collins x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: 19 year age gap, implied smut

Request by @jessicalynnann: Jordan.!!! I need me a good happy story… with some angst and smut well because it is me lol. How about one where Misha is your dad’s best friend and he is attracted to you and he shouldn’t be and one night he comes over to check on you cause your parents are away and walks in on you and a guy and gets jealous and then he throws him out so sexy time ensues.

Summary: You come home for the summer after your first year in college. Everyone looks different, the farm is different, the town is different and Misha Collins is definitely different. Older men are what get you going, and you're going to make it a goal this summer to get as much as Misha Collins as you can.

Square Filled: "you weren't supposed to hear that" (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: in this fic, Misha is 41 and you're 22

x

After a year in college, you’re back home for summer break. As much as you loved dorm life with your friends, you miss the farm life back home. Your dad owns a really big farm with lots of animals that he uses to make money off of. He sells the cow’s milk, the chicken’s eggs, and the sheep’s wool while still upholding the value of the property. He has a section of land for vegetables that he grows but he mostly keeps that for himself.

You’re staying with him for the entire summer which is the best time to be on the farm. In the winter, the snow ruins almost everything about it so the summer is the perfect time to get a lot of shit done. 

Once you get your luggage from baggage claim, you make your way over to the pickup section of the airport, waiting for your ride. When you see your dad’s beaten old pickup truck, you make your way over to him. Instead of him getting out, your older brother does with a crooked smile.

“Y/N!”

“Mason!”

You drop your luggage and run into his arms for a big hug. You haven’t seen him in years since he went off to college on the other side of the country. At least you stayed a bit closer to your home. He graduated not long ago and decided to move back home to help out with the family.

“How’s college life treating you?”

“It’s only the first year. I got a dorm next year with the friends I made this year so that’s good.”

“Awesome. Man, you won’t believe what’s been happening in this town,” he chuckles.

He grabs your luggage and heaves it into the trunk. You both get in the car and off you go back home.

“Alright, spill it. What did I miss?”

“Dad is doing more volunteer work, your old high school teacher, Ms. Bromwell got arrested for fooling around with her senior students, we got a new mayor, and Mom has the hots for the new Pastor.”

“Of course, she does,” you laugh. Ever since she got divorced from Dad, she’s been moving around town in not the best way. Still, you love her to pieces. “Glad to be home.”

“Oh, and Misha is back in town.”

Your entire body goes still at the mention of his name.

“How is he doing?”

“He’s alright, I guess,” Mason shrugs.

Misha is your dad’s best friend who grew up only a few doors down from you. He was always present at every birthday party, every time you snuck out of the house, when you first got your license, when you got ready for Prom, and when you graduated high school. When you got to that age when you started caring how you look for boys’ attention, you were really getting dolled up for him. You have had a major crush on him for years now but you were too young to do something about it.

He is nineteen years older than you but you don’t care. You’re fresh in college, you’re not a little girl anymore, and you know what you want. You want Misha and you’re going to make it your goal to get him this summer, even if it only lasts a couple of months. He might see you as a child and as his best friend’s daughter but you’re going to change that soon enough.

Mason reaches the house in record time and helps bring in your bags.

“Dad! We’re home,” he announces.

“Y/N!” your dad greets you and brings you in for a hug. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

“Glad to be home, Dad,” you smile.

“You remember Misha, right?”

You turn to face him and your mouth actually goes dry. Damn, he looks good. Seeing him is sending tingles up and down your body that you shouldn’t have for your dad’s best friend. He smiles and that almost makes you melt right there.

“Y/N, it’s been a long time.”

He brings you in for a hug and all your senses are filled with him. His cologne is making your head dizzy and you can feel his muscles underneath his clothes.

“Yeah, it has,” you chuckle.

“Do you need help unpacking?”

“No, I got it,” you quickly say and pull away from him. “Thank you, though.”

You grab your bag and immediately head upstairs before you make a fool out of yourself. He watches you walk up the stairs with a controlled look on his face. There is no way he is going to give away what he’s thinking.

The day you came in was a day for relaxing, but the next morning is when your contribution begins. You wake up right as the sun is peeking over the horizon and get dressed in short coveralls and a sports bra. You tie your hair into a messy bun and grab a woven basket before heading out to the chicken coops.

Most of the hens have laid eggs that you collect without issue. There are a few with attitudes but you know how to handle them. It doesn’t matter how long you spend away from home, the work is engraved in your head. You bend down to collect some more eggs when you hear someone shuffle against the wood chips behind you, and you gasp while turning around.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Misha chuckles.

“What are you doing up?”

“Same as you.”

“You wanted to get the eggs from the chickens, too?”

“Okay,” Misha chuckles, “maybe not the same reason.” You smile at him and move on to the hens on the other side of the coop. “So, how is college going?”

“So far so good. I got a dorm with my friends next year so that’s good. Classes are great.”

“Meet anyone over there?”

“You mean like a boyfriend?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods.

Is he fishing for information? What if you say yes? Are you going to make him jealous? This is a good opportunity to mess with him but you resist. It’s too early in your relationship to make such bold decisions. For now, you keep it safe.

“No. I’m not into men my age. I like them older,” you flirt subtly.

“I see,” he nods.

“So, tell me something, you’re well off with money. Why are you still in this town? The people stay here because they can’t go anywhere else.”

“Your dad is well off but he stays.”

“He’s been in this town for decades. He can’t leave,” you chuckle.

“Same here. I grew up here.” You raise an eyebrow and he laughs. “I don’t know. I feel like there is something here for me still. Maybe someone.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re single?”

“Maybe.”

“I see,” you copy his response.

You finish grabbing all the eggs and bring them inside with Misha. It’s time for breakfast now because your dad and Mason are going to be up soon. There are dozens of eggs so what better way than to make some omelettes with some of the fresh vegetables from the farm? 

One of your favorite apps these days is Tik Tok which your best friend introduced you to. It has all sorts of videos that can keep you entertained for hours, and some of your favorite videos to watch are prank videos. One of the ones going around is where someone is cooking eggs and decides to crack one on someone’s head instead of doing it on the counter or the side of a pan.

You look at Misha who is washing his hands with a smirk. You grab twelve eggs to cook with and set the rest of them off to the side. You take one of the eggs and swiftly crack the egg on Misha’s forehead. He flinches from shock and you hold in your giggle as you pour the egg into the pan.

You grab another egg to do it again but Misha is quick on his feet. He moves out of the way and wipes the egg whites that you left on his skin. He reaches out to touch you but you squeal and move out of the way.

“This isn’t how this works!” you laugh.

Misha grabs your waist and pulls you into him, and he teases you by hovering his slimy hands above your face. You squirm to get away from him but end up moving your body closer to him. You turn to face him and lock eyes. He looks down briefly before something changes in his body language and in his eyes. He clears his throat and steps away from you to put some distance between you two.

“I should get going.”

“Why? Breakfast hasn’t even started yet.”

“I got stuff to do.”

“Stuff?”

Just then, your dad comes jogging down the stairs because you know he smelled the eggs cooking.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” your dad asks and grabs water from the fridge.

“Helping Y/N out but I’m leaving now.”

Misha washes his hands and leaves without another word. You watch him leave with a frown as you rake your brain to figure out where things took a turn.

A few days later, your dad wanted to have a barbecue for everyone in town at the farm. He has the biggest property in town so it makes sense to turn the farm into something the entire town can enjoy. Almost everyone from town is in your backyard, and your dad sets up games for the kids to play, a small bar with a keg of beer for the adults, and lots of good food. The one job he gave you was to keep the keg stocked with beer but the one he has must have the nozzle broken because it’s not dispensing beer correctly.

Misha shows up expecting to have a good time when he spots you bent over the keg wearing short shorts and an almost see-through tank top. He clenches his jaw in frustration and storms over to you. You’re too busy to see him heading your way, and you yank the nozzle the wrong way because beer sprays all over your shirt.

“Shit,” you gasp and jump back.

Beer flows out of the nozzle so you quickly turn it off before any more goes to waste. You grab the ends of your shirt to take it off when Misha grabs your elbow.

“What the hell?”

“What? I got beer on myself.”

“Taking off your shirt with children around is inappropriate.”

“It’s not like I’ll be showing my boobs to everyone. I have a sports bra underneath this.”

“Here.” He sheds off his jacket and gives it to you to wear. “Go inside and change.”

“Yes, sir,” you say sarcastically and walk away from him.

Misha resists the urge to grab you and punish you for your bratty attitude. You’re not sure what has gotten into him these last couple of days because he’s been angry with you. You’ve tried flirting with him but nothing has come of it and you’re not one of those girls to just wait around for a guy. If he doesn’t want you, there are plenty of other men who do. There was a young man at the barbecue that you connected with and kept in touch with after the event was over.

Your dad is going to be out of town for a couple of days with your brother which means you have the house to yourself. What better way to spend your time than with the new guy you met? Misha has mixed feelings about you because you’re his best friend’s daughter. You’re unsponkingly off limits. If Jensen knew the kind of thoughts he was having about his daughter, he would kill him for sure.

Maybe if he talks to you, he can understand what he’s feeling and figure out what to do about it. He walks over to your house and uses the key Jensen gave him for emergencies only. He has to check on you anyway per Jensen’s request so he doesn’t think much when he walks inside your house. It’s usually quiet until he hears something that makes all his blood go straight to his cock.

You are moaning upstairs. 

The thing that pisses him off is he hears a man moan right after you. He should just leave but he rushes upstairs with the intent of ruining your evening. He doesn’t mean to be an asshole but he’s thinking with his downstairs brain and not his upstairs one. He practically busts down the door to see the guy you met naked on top of you.

“What the fuck!” you gasp and push the man off you.

Misha is too pissed to see that you’re fully naked in front of him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The guy you’re with stutters since he’s too scared by Misha’s presence. “Get the hell out of here.”

The guy gathers his clothes and rushes out of the room, and you pull your robe on to give you some sort of decency.

“What the hell are you doing here? Why did you run him off?” you gasp in anger.

“You know, when your dad asked me to check on you while he was away, I’d figure I see you in here drinking, maybe smoking some weed, not fucking some boy you just met.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, I did.”

“You thought it was okay to come here close to the middle of the fucking night? You couldn’t have waited until morning?”

“I’m not going to let my best friend’s daughter get pregnant by some kid she doesn’t know.”

“I have condoms.”

“It’s irresponsible.”

“Why do you even care what goes on in my bedroom? It’s not like you’re in it,” you cross your arms.

If you’re going to do this, may as well go all out. Misha chuckles but it’s not an amused chuckle, it’s a dark chuckle like you better watch what you say next or he’ll punish you.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

The laugh you give is almost an amused one.

“An old guy like you? The only thing I won’t be able to handle is how short it’ll be. Wouldn’t want to throw out your back, now would we?”

Misha’s smirk is lost as he stalks towards you. You back up but are stopped by the dresser.

“Sweetheart, I’d ruin other men for you.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” Misha looks like he wants to but listens to the rational part of his brain. He shakes his head and starts to walk away from you. “That’s what I thought.” You scoff. “I want you to leave because I have a date with my vibrator which has batteries that will last longer than you.” 

Misha snaps and turns so quickly that you don’t have time to react. He grabs your waist and tosses you onto the bed causing your robe to open enough to show your breasts. He looks down at your chest and reaches out to touch one of your breasts but resists at the last second.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“I’m nineteen years older than you.”

“And?”

“You’re my best friend’s daughter.”

“And?” you chuckle.

Misha stares into your eyes to see if you mean what you say. When he doesn’t see a shred of regret he leans down and kisses you. He reaches into your robe and palms your breasts before allowing you to shred the piece of clothing. It’s passionate. It’s sensual. It’s intimate. It’s everything you want and more. He’s so much different than anyone you’ve ever been with. He takes care of you three times before he even thinks about himself; once on his tongue, once on his fingers, and once more on his cock.

It’s hours before you’re done and you pant heavily next to him.

“Yeah, you have ruined other men for me,” you laugh.

“You can’t tell your dad about this. He’d murdered me.”

“Eh, I don’t tell him a lot of things anyway.”

You lean over and kiss him again, ready for a round two.

x

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[jessybarnes]

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[raindropxoxo]

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[samsno1]

Flowers

Castiel x GN!Reader

i love his eyes. that's it, that's the tweet. guys...this is very sweet but i don't know if i'm satisfied?? tell me what you think, writing castiel is very hard, lawd

Summary: In a hunt, a flower appears over your pillow after you come back to the motel room at night. Who left it there?

Warnings: FLUFF, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, i pictured s4/5 cas in this, use of y/n, sweet confession, NOT PROOF READ, that's it? english isn't my first language

WC: 2.5k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

When you started hunting with Sam and Dean one of the last things you expected to encounter was an Angel, especially after discovering they aren't “harps and halos" like in the books you read as a kid, but instead soldiers and sometimes assholes.

Castiel was an exception to the “asshole” part, he was actually very sweet when it came to you and the boys. Helped you, saved you and cared for you. In that sense, Cas was just like the Angel stories, a guardian of the humans he was in charge of.

And for you, it was fun teaching Cas about humans and how they behaved, helped him when he didn't understand Dean's pop culture references, got him to watch classic movies and listen to music and he was always very keen into doing so, curious and intrigued in what you explained to him.

Those big blue eyes always gave you his full attention, sometimes with that little frown that you started to call “The Angel Frown” while he questioned you about something that, to you, was basic knowledge. You were always as patient as possible with him, always clarifying what you could in words he could understand and that ended up always making him come to you for help.

In conclusion, you and Cas got closer and you started to catch yourself staring when he wasn't looking, admiring his smiles, drowning into his sapphire eyes and wishing that he had just more doubts about how people acted so you could spend more time with him.

You knew, from what Castiel told you, that Angels and feelings, human feelings at least, weren't compatible and that things such as love and romance weren't truly a reality for him and his siblings, they were warriors after all, created to serve their Father and that was it. 

Even when Castiel rebelled for the Winchesters, letting go of the “I don't serve men” mindset was difficult but you, Dean and Sam were there for him. You were more understandable then the brothers because you knew Cas was trying his best.

And because you fell for the Angel, but nobody needed to know that.

One night you arrived at the motel room you were staying at, after waving goodnight to Sam and Dean, them going to their separate room.

You opened the door and sighed deeply in exhaustion. It had been a long day of questioning and more questions appearing then those answered. At first you guys thought of a vengeful spirit, then cursed object, then witch. All of those possibilities were still up and it was driving you three insane. People were dying and you felt useless.

Once you closed the door and threw your stuff in the closest table you turned to your bed, where your bag was placed to get some clothes to take a well deserved shower. But, when you looked at your pillow, you noticed a single pink flower sitting over it and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You approached the flower slowly, skeptical about it, your hunter instincts telling you this wasn't good news. You slowly reached for it, as if it could bite your hand off, and picked it up. You analyzed the plant, very confused and grabbed your laptop.

You searched until you found a flower similar to the one you were holding and learned it was a Camellia. You looked between the screen and the flower and you searched up what a pink Camellia meant because, as much as you knew, flowers weren't really something you looked into.

What you found was shocking. According to the internet, a pink Camellia represents admiration and appreciation and Camellias and general represent love and affection. You widen your eyes at the flower in your hands, looking around your empty room as if someone would pop up and explain what this was doing at your bed. Wrong room?

You couldn't think of anybody that could give you this willingly. It definitely wasn't Sam or Dean because, first, they spent the whole day by your side and, second, unless they meant it platonically, the boys didn't see you like that. You loved them and they loved you, of course, but, to them, you were like a sister Dean loves you like he loves Sam, the same way Sam loves you like he loves Dean and vice-versa.

The only person that came to your mind was…No, it couldn't be, he said himself, love for him was basically unachievable but you couldn't help but wonder, even if your rational brain said it was stupid to think Cas would mean that. You smiled at the flower, that tinge of hope lightning inside you.

You looked around the room to look for something you could fill up with water and found an empty beer bottle. That'll do.

You washed the bottle to get the smell of alcohol off and filled it up with water, placing the little flower inside.

The pink color of the petals clashed with the transparent green of the bottle and you smiled at that. It looked cute in a way. You thought, even if this didn't come from someone you knew, you were keeping it, at least the flower.

You left the makeshift vase in your nightstand and took your stuff to the shower, peeling off your suit and your tie on the way, leaving it on the ground as you locked yourself inside the bathroom.

In these moments, Cas thanked his abilities of becoming unseen because you arrived just as he was leaving the Camellia over your pillow. He spent the day researching flowers, finding an interest in how humans always gave them to the people they cared about or to the ones who passed. He wanted to give you one to show you that he cared for you and also as a thank you for being patient with him for a long time.

He always felt happier around you, a warm feeling inside him always seemed to bloom. He felt the need to be close to you, like you were a human magnet. Everytime you looked at him he felt a weird feeling in his stomach, your smile was always something he felt the need to chase, he wanted to see it always in your face. He admired the way your eyes would shine when you were talking about something you liked.

When he saw you placing the flower on the nightstand with a smile he felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. He would do anything to see that look on your face again.

That hunt lasted a week, taking you three too long to figure out it was a witch and even longer to find said witch and to say you guys were fed up was an understatement. 

For that long week you dared to say you missed the Angel, you thought about calling him, praying to him, multiple times but what were you going to say when he arrived? Missed you? I just wanted to see you?

Everything you thought sounded too intimate so you discarded the idea of calling him.

But two more flowers appeared on your pillow after that pink Camellia. A Peony that you learned meant for the Chinese something along the lines of “the most beautiful” and a stunning Carnation in a light red shade that represented admiration. At this point you were very intrigued about who was the one giving you the flowers, Castiel still on your mind. You didn't want to get your hopes too high, you were probably overthinking it anyways, making your heart speak louder than your brain.

You were lying on your bed, staring at the tiny bouquet of three flowers given piece by piece to you. It was your last night in that room, Dean having insisted he needed the sleep so as to not crash the Impala from tiredness. You had offered to drive as you weren't as bad as he was but, of course, that was an immediate no from the older brother so all of you settled for one more night.

As you close your eyes and start to fall asleep, a sudden flutter of wings gets your attention. It's dark in the room so you take a peek and for sure it's Cas. You hold back a smile and close your eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

You feel the Angel approaching the bed, his presence making your heart quicken in your chest. From what it sounds like, he's just standing, watching you and you start to feel very nervous.

Castiel on the other hand arrived to see your sleeping form and couldn't help but watch. You looked peaceful, your breathing was calm and you looked…pretty. Cas thought all his father's creations were wonderful but he felt like you could top them all, literally, in your sleep.

He had another little flower in his hand which, to him, had a very self-explanatory name, a Forget-Me-Not.

He spun the blue flower on his fingers, debating if he should leave it inside the vase or besides you, over your pillow. 

He approached you and while he was placing the flower next to your head he felt a gentle hand wrap around his wrist and instantly froze on the spot.

You opened your eyes and looked at his near-horrified face. You smiled at him.

“Got you” You said, a little above a whisper and looked at the flower he was holding. That one you knew the name and what it meant and you felt warmth spreading through your cheeks, not just at that one flower, but knowing now that all those flowers you received came from Cas.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you” He said as he retreated his hand and you held the Forget-Me-Not. He was tense, not looking at you.

“So you were the secret admirer leaving me these flowers?” You asked as you slowly sat up on the bed and placed the blue flower inside the bottle with the three others. You placed both your hands over your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “Why?”

He looked around. What was he supposed to say? Himself barely knew why he was doing this but it felt right so he kept going with it. He noticed that the flower meanings resembled things that he felt or thought of you and he enjoyed collecting them for you, especially after you kept them.

“These flowers all have a meaning behind them” He started “Take them as a thank you for…being helpful with my understanding of human behaviors” 

You smiled stupidly at that. The way he said it sounded like something he had rehearsed before coming to you to say it, the words too polite. But yet, that's one of the things you liked about him.

“You didn't have to Cas…They are beautiful, thank you” You said and looked at the flowers again, biting your lip. You felt his eyes on you, it was always intimidating. You knew that it was just the way he was, look right into your eyes while you talk to show you had his full attention, his beautiful blue orbs hypnotizing.

Cas analyzed every aspect of yours as you sat in front of him, his eyes wondering over your figure and his hands moved faster than his thoughts and he reached for your shoulder, his palm traveling from your shoulder blade to the end of your upper arm and back up, tracing a pattern over your skin. He longed to touch you and be closer to you in a way he couldn’t explain so, in this moment, you both alone, he decided to fulfill this wish.

You widened your eyes and looked up at Castiel who was entranced by the movement of his hand, goosebumps flaring up on your skin.

“Cas?” You said and acknowledged your call with a hum “What are you…?”

He finally looked at you, his hand steadied on your shoulder.

“When I’m around you I always feel this need to touch you, be closer and this…” He shakes his head, finding a word to define how he felt. “Warmth comes over me everytime you smile”

His eyes bore through yours and you could only stare back at him, shocked.

“Cas, you’re saying–”

“I think I might love you, Y/N” He interrupted. The way he said it sounded like a confusion, a slight approach, as if he was tiptoeing around the thought, not sure if he wanted to grasp it or just keep his distance.

You were dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere and your heart started to beat faster, his hand over your shoulder felt like it was burning through your skin. It all made sense, the flowers, the way he was always keen on talking to you even when you did most of the talking and he just listened with a faint smile and pure interest, he just didn’t know because he never felt like this before, he didn’t know what loving was like.

You landed a hand over his cheek, your eyes practically watering with an emotional overload at his words. You thumb rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and you pulled him in for a hug. You wanted to kiss him so bad but you were on a baby steps basis with the Angel.

You hugged him tightly, his hands hesitantly wrapping around your frame as you let out a deep breath. When you pulled back, you didn’t pull away completely from him looking between his eyes and his mouth, a giddy smile on your face.

“I think I might love you too Castiel” You said and he widened his own eyes, a light chuckle coming out of you at his reaction.

Your chuckles were cut off by his lips on yours and you gasped in surprise. His mouth was as soft as you expected, his lips moving against your in perfect sync. He was impressively a good kisser, one of his hands gently holding at the back of your neck while the other slid down to your waist.

You felt like a bomb had exploded inside you, a foreign feeling of happiness spreading to every single cell on your body as your arms wrapped around his neck to hold yourself when he sat on the bed, pulling you over his lap, making you yelp.

You both pulled away, your arms still wrapped around each other and he had a light smile on his face. You one hundred per cent had a shocked look on yours, your cheeks hot and breathing heavy.

“Where’d you learn that?” You asked, absolutely knocked by the kiss.

“Dean told me a thing or two” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh, your body shaking against his as he also chuckled. “It seems like I did great?”

You stopped your laughs and looked in his eyes, drowning in their ocean blue. You gave a peck to the corner of his mouth.

“You did amazing” You said as one of your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled you in, the warmth spreading through both of you yet again, never wanting to let go.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.

[feelingthedisaster]

being in the supernatural fandom is so funny. there are pages-long essays about characterization, metaphors and picture. there is a lot of crack. the fandom is divided whether you ship world's biggest age gap or incest. one of the main actors has an ao3 account and has probably read the fanfiction. another one of the main cast made his own fanfaction and turn it into a tv show. your favourite characters dies, you laugh bc it wont last, the stay dead for a little bit too long and you start to get worry, they get resurrected and damn, these writers dont know when to stop, its the third time they died and came back, fucking commit to it. we all hate the writers and producers. literally invented queerbait and we all fell for it. a random character from a totally unrelated show is canon bisexual and wow, we are trending. you want to defend your fav character and your main obstacle is your fav character (you gaslight yourself into "all fault is on the writers not my baby"). we out-trended the us elections and contine to trend on every anniversary of that day. we discuss which season is the best like they arent a recycled plot we already seen. the show was meant appel to conservaties and the fandom is made of gay people somehow. the main characters are alcoholic murderers that do extremely questionable stuff every season and we love them for it. someone outside the spn fandom finds out you are in and they look at you like you are insane and you cant even blame them.

[castiwls]

Come home to me - c.n

Paring; castiel x reader

Synopsis: Getting hurt on a hunt was expected, but this was different. This left your life on the line

Warnings; mention of death and injury

Requested;anon

Notes;so sorry this took so long! also not wrote for castiel in a minute so I apologise if its kinda occ :) reqs and inbox are open

Masterlist

Pain was something you were used to. It wasn’t often you found yourself walking away from a hunt unscathed but this…this was something you’d never felt before.

White hot pain pulsed through your side as you tried to remember how to breathe again. You couldn’t even remember what had happened. One minute you were standing and the next you were looking at the barn's roof.

You weren’t even sure if you’d finished the hunt. The only thing you knew was that you were in pain.  A hand on your chest pulled you back to reality. The car jostled slightly causing you to wince as pain shot up your side.

“Is it bad?” Your voice was strained as you looked up at met a pair of blue eyes full of concern. Castiel was quiet his eyes trained on your face. “You're going to be okay.” He nodded before moving his hand over your side. 

His voice was passive but you could tell by his eyes that he was scared and you couldn’t tell if he was reassuring himself or you. Taking a sharp breath you reached a hand up towards him. One of his hands quickly wrapped around yours and squeezed it.

“M’tired Cas.” You mumbled watching as his eyes widened slightly. He shook his head before saying something you didn’t catch. Your ears seemed to fill with water as the voices in the car blended together to make one muffled mass.

The pain continued to pulse through you as quiet mumbles left your lips. Your eyes continued to droop as you watched him stare down at you. 

Truthfully you had no idea if you were dying. The thought left a small pinch of fear rushing through you. What if you were dying? What if you died in this car? What if you died and never got to tell him?

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Castiel watched in near horror as your eyes finally closed and your body went limp on his lap. Placing a hand on your shoulder he shook you gently, careful of your wound. “Hey.” He could feel Dean’s eyes on him from the mirror as he continued to shake you.

The sound of the engine revving faded into the background as he continued calling your name begging for your eyes to open again.

Until now fear had been something he’d never felt. The idea alone was so alien to him that for a moment he had no idea what that cold feeling that seemed to chill his body was. 

For the first time, Castiel was genuinely scared. He knew healing you wasn’t an option until you got back to the motel. The car was too shaky and he wasn’t willing to risk causing you any more pain. 

“You're gonna be okay.” He mumbled pushing your hair off your face. Staring down at you he found himself slowly mapping your features. He’d always known that there was something about you. Something which left him constantly looking for your attention. Your smile alone could brighten his day and the thought of never seeing it again left him feeling sick to his stomach.

Losing you was maybe his worst fear, and now that might actually be a reality.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Castiel didn’t know how long it had been. Both Sam and Dean had begrudgingly retired to their own motel room leaving you both alone a few hours ago. 

Even after being healed you continued to lie lifeless on the old bed while he sat quietly at your side. Letting out a breath he leaned forward on his knees looking at you for a moment. Your clothes were still bloody and torn but your side now showed no memories of the gash that had been there only hours earlier.

Running a hand through his hair he leaned back into the chair, his mind still going a mile a minute. Castiel had never had the words to tell you how he really felt. He’d become so accustomed to being your ‘best friend’ that the idea of being anything more had slowly faded away. 

He knew he was in love. He’d been in love since the first day he’d met you and now he’d waited too long and may never get the chance to tell you.

A small pained groan broke through the silence and his head shot up. Another small noise left your lips as you stretched out your leg, feeling the stiffness on one side of your body slowly lessen.

“Wha..what happened?” You asked turning your head to where he was sitting. “Cas?” His hand shot out grabbing a hold of yours, his eyes wide. “How do you feel?” His voice was laced with concern.

You thought for a moment trying to piece together your foggy memories of what had happened on the hunt. The pieces slowly slotted together and you let out a worried breath immediately reaching for your side.

Feeling the now untouched skin you looked over to the angel. “Stiff but…much better.” You smiled weakly, fatigue still clouding your mind. “Thank you.” 

He nodded a small smile growing on his lips. Relief rushed through him as you slowly moved to sit up against the pillows. “I’m glad.” He was quiet for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Can I…can I tell you something.” Castiel felt his gaze fall onto his hands as you tilted your head watching him. “Of course. You can tell me anything.” You answered trying to reassure him. 

He nodded before falling quiet again. You watched as opened his mouth a few times before stopping himself and shaking his head. “Cas, come on you can tell me.” You laughed gently patting the bed beside you.

Taking the hint he came to sit beside you. He felt the bed dip slightly as you moved closer a smile on your lips. Part of him was so relieved still that you were alive that it took him a moment to realise that you’d placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m in love with you.” He said suddenly. The confession seemed to shock you both as you stiffened slightly and he sucked in a breath.

The air seemed to grow tense for a moment before he turned to face you, his breath catching in his throat as he mentally prepared himself for the possibility of you rejecting him.

Instead, you were smiling brightly, a small dusting of red on your cheeks. “You're not just saying that 'cause I almost died right?” 

He shook his head reaching for your hand which wasn’t on his shoulder. “No. No of course not. I really mean it.”

He looked down to where your hands were intertwined. “Well.” You moved your hand from his shoulder to gently tip his chin up.

“I guess it’s a good thing I feel the same.”

[atenea585]

My Own Work Of Art

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: When the boys leave you alone with the strange angel, one question is answered.

Word Count: 1,950

Tags/Warnings: Comfort, nothing really spicy (you're safe), fluff.

You watched him from your place on the couch. He had his back to you, checking your items on top of the dresser. You could see his face in the reflection of the mirror in front of him, focused. Sam and Dean had left you alone with him, something about "having backup" in case something happened, but you knew it was to keep you safe and have the angel on your shoulder watch over you (although he wasn't small enough to be on your shoulder and was not behind you, but in front). You were supposed to be reading a book, but there was something about him that intrigued you (beyond the fact that he was an angel), a question that kept running through your head. He must have felt your gaze, because he looked at you out of the corner of his eye while holding your comb.

"I think there is something you want to tell me."

You took a deep breath and settled into place, putting your book aside without even marking the page you were on.

That shows how interested you really were in what you were reading.

"Have a question." You finally spoke.

He turned around this time, leaving the object on the wood, facing you with his hands behind him.

"If I can answer it I will."

You looked him up and down, studying him. You don't really know what you could conclude. How much can the appearance of an angel tell you? Since it's not even his true appearance.

"When Sam tried to contact you," you began, "You didn't respond to his call," he tilted his head with interest, listening attentively. "And then Dean prayed for you, and you showed up."

He nodded his head as he watched you from his still place. You have to admit that while you knew you weren't in danger, his aura let you know that that didn't mean he were vulnerable.

"You said you were connected to him." it was your moment to tilt your head. "And then you said you were connected to me too."

"That's right." He said simply.

"Well, I understand why you have a connection with Dean, you were the one who took him out of hell and he has your mark on his shoulder." you frowned slightly, your next question probably already expected. "But why do you have a connection with me?"

He slowly looked away, probably he already expected that kind of questioning.

"Castiel?" You softly said his name to get his attention, which you did. "I just want to understand."

His gaze traveled over your body, thoughtful, before turning around, his eyes staring at the furniture in front of him before grabbing one of your necklaces.

You thought that was it, that he wouldn't answer your question. It's not like you want to pressure an angel, so you moved to grab your book again, cursing inwardly for not marking the page.

"The first time I saw you, you were sleeping." he said suddenly, causing your attention to fall on him. "I had to talk to Dean, and there you were... Sleeping peacefully in the hotel bed, your face on one side and your hair over it, covering your features."

You listened to him, intrigued.

"There was something that caught my attention, something in me that wanted to run your hair to get a good look at your face." He continued running his fingers over your necklace, but his mind was on his memories. "And then, when we spoke formally, I knew..."

You stood up from the spot and approached him slowly.

"What did you notice?"

He didn't even turn to look at you, he simply placed the necklace back where he had found it and looked up at his reflection in the mirror.

"About a thousand years ago, I was doing my duty when I heard a voice. A voice that teleported me to a large garden," you slowly approached from behind, one step in front of the other. "And that voice spoke to me to ask me a question."

His gaze locked onto yours in the reflection. He showed no emotion, or rather, he didn't seem to want to, you noticed.

"He asked me what a perfect human would be like in my eyes," he murmured, "And I answered..."

He turned to look at you and took a step forward, making you go on alert, again not out of danger, but out of curiosity.

"I responded that I could never describe a perfect human in my eyes, since perfection is inexplicable."

He took another step forward and in response you took a step back. He watched you, understanding your action and not trying to make another attempt to be close to you.

"But I told him I could describe something close."

You took note of his eyes traveling all over your face, taking in every feature, every part that made you physically yourself.

"I described their hair, their legs and arms, their ferocity... Even their look."

You let out a sigh, something about his words making your mind spin.

"Their skin had to be soft, even when it was rough." he continued, taking another step forward, this time not getting a step back from you. "I imagined their fingers were magical. Any living being touched by them would find complete peace."

He held your hand gently, causing you to jump slightly, not expecting it. But you didn't move your hand away either, a magnetic feeling didn't leave you. You let him lift your hand and run his own fingers through it, looking at it as if it were a work of art, the best seen by him.

"But their eyes..." He slowly moved his hand up your wrist, following the veins down your arm and causing your hairs to rise at his touch until he reached your shoulder. "I proclaimed that all their power would be in their eyes." he looked deep into your eyes, feeling a shiver crawl up your spine, his hand continuing its journey along the side of your neck until it reached your cheek. "Their gaze would hypnotize and make strong and firm walls fall..."

He took another step forward, his gaze slowly falling to your lips.

"And their lips..." He gently caressed your lips with his thumb. "Oh, my Father, their lips would be magnificent, attracting the attention of everyone who looked at them, no matter how strong they think they are, they would fall at their feet."

His gaze stayed on your lips, parting his slightly. As for you... You couldn't even describe it. You couldn't move, or rather you didn't want to. You had a feeling of fear that if you did, this would end, whatever it was.

But he seemed to force himself out of the bubble, shifting his gaze to your eyes and lowering his hand, seeing his throat move as he swallowed accumulated saliva.

"After giving my answer, I returned to where I was. I spent years wondering about the purpose of His question and it was finally answered."

"Yeah?" Your voice barely came out and you cleared your throat.

"Yes." He returned his gaze to you. "As soon as we spoke, I understood that the answer to His question was in front of me," he looked at you slowly from bottom to top, analyzing you. "Both physically and emotionally, everything was there." He cocked his head, "A few words turned into a single work of art of flesh and blood." He placed his gaze on your eyes, his own half-closed. "And I can't stand not being attracted to your person in some way..." He murmured, bringing his face closer to yours.

A wave of heat ran through your body, your gaze on his before resting on his lips, from which you felt his breath. You even closed your eyes, ready to receive what he gives you.

Just when you thought he couldn't get any closer to you, the door to the motel room opened and Sam and Dean walked in, looking curiously at their closeness.

"All good?" Dean asked, looking between the two of you with a raised eyebrow.

You hesitated and Castiel stood up straight, looking at them seriously, very different from the look he had given you earlier. No words left his mouth before he walked back to the dresser and went through the items there again.

The boys returned their gaze to you, waiting for a response. You nodded your head.

"Everything is in order." You cleared your throat and scratched the back of your neck. "What did you find out?" You asked as you returned to your position on the couch and grabbed the book again, not even bothering that you didn't remember what blessed page you were on.

You felt Sam and Dean's gaze on you for a few seconds before they started walking around the room, talking about their discoveries in the case. But you couldn't concentrate on a single word of what they were saying.

Your gaze hesitantly rose from the book and ended up at Cass's reflection in the mirror. You didn't really know if he felt a connection to you, if your relationship was based on something God had created, but his gaze also rose to yours in the reflection.

Nobody said anything. Hell, you're even sure none of them expressed any emotion, but somehow... Somehow there was something there...

An invisible thread that did not allow neither of you to maintain your concentration on anything other than the other.

Castiel One Shots

Castiel Masterlist

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[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Exhibitionist Thrill

♌Pairing♌→ Misha Collins x male reader ⚠CW⚠→ gay sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, caught having sex, anal sex, breeding, top Misha, bottom reader, blowjob (Misha receiving), spanking, accidental voyeurism, and Misha fucking like a wild animal.  ♌Rating♌→ Explicit ♌Requested♌→ Yes

Word Count→ 1.1k

Summary→ M/n has been teasing Misha for the past months. Misha reaches his breaking point with M/n and decides to fuck him in his co-star, Jensen Ackles, trailer.

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

Misha has had enough of you. 

The constant teasing: groping his crotch when no one is looking, smacking his ass, making suggestive comments, and other various acts. These actions got his cock throbbing painfully and leaking copious amounts of precum. 

After months of teasing, when the area was clear, Misha grabbed M/n by the arm and pulled him towards one of his co-stars, Jensen Ackles’, trailer. He slammed the door open before pushing you inside and closing the door, his cock throbbing in his pants even though nothing has happened yet. 

“I’m at my limit with you, you fucking tease. Groping my crotch, making blowjob gestures! Think it's time I remind you of your position.” Misha says as he pulls you closer to him, rubbing his erection against your growing cock, M/n’s moans were music to Misha’s ear.

Misha continues to thrust, going as far as to rub both your cocks at the same time. Groans filled the trailer as Misha snickers at the wetness forming at the seams of M/n’s pants.

The brown-haired man pulls back and sits down on a nearby chair. He hastily pulls down his pants, letting his leaking cock free. M/n could feel his mouth salivating.

It was perfect: 7.5 inches with the right amount of thickness, a prominent vein leaning to the side, pink cockhead that oozed copious amounts of precum. Misha grins as he slaps his cock against his hand.

Knowing the look he was giving, M/n instantly stripped to nothing.  He got on all fours, crawling towards Misha, shaking his ass while doing so to entice the brown-haired man more. Misha leans back with both hands behind his head.

Grabbing the throbbing piece of meat, M/n slowly strokes it, using the precum to lather Misha’s cock. M/n smirked as he heard Misha's soft groans.

After a few strokes, M/n starts giving kitten licks to the side and kisses to the throbbing cockhead, tasting the precum. Misha’s breathing gets heavier, and being impatient, he snatches your head and rams his cock into your mouth.

Caught off guard by the escalation, M/n gagged momentarily before relaxing his throat, Misha’s cock sliding in without much effort. The trailer was filled with the sounds of saliva from M/n slurping Misha’s cock and Misha’s groans as he thrusts into M/n mouth.

M/n could feel Misha’s heavy balls slapping against his chin. His eyes rolled back as the musk from said balls filled his nose. With each thrust, M/n stroked his cock,  throbbing and leaking precum from the taste and smell of Misha’s cock.

Misha grinned as he watched you turn into a cock hungry slut. He pulled M/n’s head back and a loud pop was audible. The brown-haired man’s cock was slathered with saliva and precum, glistening in the light and throbbing from the cold air, no longer in the warmth of M/n’s mouth.

Without wasting any time, Misha manhandled M/n onto the table. His eyes roaming over your back and ass. The brown-haired man could see your hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled with his cock. It seems he didn’t need to prep M/n, which is perfect for him. 

“Already prepped, huh? Let me guess, fingering yourself? Or did you use a dildo because I was not giving you what you wanted?” Misha snarls as he pulls your hips closer. He slaps his meaty cock against your ass, sliding against your crack before ramming it inside. M/n’s and Misha's moans filled the trailer. 

M/n’s eyes rolled back and his tongue stuck out as his breathing got heavy while he adjusted to Misha’s size and thickness. No matter how times Misha’s fucked M/n, it was always too much. Thankfully, the brown-haired man let his man adjust.

After a few minutes, M/n confirmed Misha to continue and the brown-haired man didn’t waste any time. He aggressively thrusted into his boyfriend’s body, the sounds of squelching and skin slapping against skin echoed. It seemed even the trailer itself was moving. Luckily, there was barely anybody around to hear what was going on inside the trailer. 

Misha snarls as fucks M/n’s ass faster, his grip tightening on the other man’s hips, leaving bruises. The brown-haired man looked down satisfied, watching M/n’s ass jiggle with each thrust. Misha just couldn’t resist.

M/n winces and moans loudly at the feeling of his ass being slapped repeatedly. His cock throbbed more and precum continued to leak. Wrapping his hand around his aching cock, M/n stroked in parallel to Misha’s thrust.

The brown-haired grins happily as he watches you wither under him. He grabbed on M/n’s hair, pulling the man forward and engaging in a heated kiss. It was animalistic and possessive, distracting them from the sound of the door opening Jensen stood frozen in place as he watched the intense fucking.

Jensen felt his cock stirring in his pants. Rubbing his growing bulge, Jensen pulled his erect cock out from its confinement and jerked off to the sight. 

Misha could tell that his lover’s orgasm was coming given how his ass had gotten tighter. “Cum for me,” Misha whispered as he pulled back from the kiss. M/n’s eyes went crossed from the feeling, and his balls tightened before his aching cock erupted, spraying cum all over the table. His moans were all for Misha.

Misha wasn’t far behind. He gave one final thrust and let out a guttural groan as his cum flooded M/n’s insides, painting the pink velvety walls white. So much cum was ejaculated, that it began seeping out, running down M/n’s thighs. The trailer smelt like sex and sweat, the sounds of heavy panting and one single groan alerted Misha to the third person in the room.  He looked over to see Jensen jerking off. The brown-haired man smirked as he leaned down.

“I guess we should’ve asked Jensen to join us.”

THE END

A/N: Hello, my little strawberries! I’m back from coming over writer's block! I mainly want to thank @starboye and @boypied! BIG THANKS TO @sagethegaywitch for proofreading and giving suggsestions!

Tags: @spnfanboy777 @meyocoko @buckyshusband0 @mack-thedork @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @zamfam4272 @ghostking4m @maxxioislost

[jakegyllenbaalz]

i❤️ supernatural

[targaryenchester]

Alright hit me with your latest favorite destiel fics. Mama needs fictional situations to keep her awake at night.

[zepskies]

Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you. 

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor. 

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you. 

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car. 

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters. 

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed. 

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down. 

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety. 

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it. 

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side. 

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can. 

He disappears before you can spit at him. 

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it. 

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel. 

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary. 

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down. 

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says. 

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash. 

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel. 

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery. 

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves. 

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.  

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously. 

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow. 

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window. 

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown. 

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker. 

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head. 

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder. 

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.  

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman. 

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify. 

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

 “Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state. 

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing. 

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.  

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes. 

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer. 

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile. 

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it. 

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face. 

“Are you angry?” he asks. 

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him. 

“No. Why?” 

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh. 

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence. 

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you. 

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there. 

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself. 

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.  

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency. 

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes. 

“Cas,” you breathe in content. 

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close. 

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage. 

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free. 

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks. 

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

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