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heartthrobin · 9 months

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making merry, oh my little fairy (2)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), hella pining, tooth-rotting fluff, destiel is canon, town being mean to reader, some shaky police jargon, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, canon-typical warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: part 2 of my little fairy series! it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks and part 1 was pretty unpopular so i've been hesitant to post it but then i realized i write for myself and not for recognition! so enjoyyyyy. remember to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: you flew around Sam's mind with your pretty little wings all night and all day, it doesn't help that you're popping up around every corner of this case. he's trying not to think about it.

part one part three part four

They'd sat in the car parked out front maybe longer than they should have. Sam noticed you peak through the curtain at the twenty minute mark, he only noticed because he could feel your curious gaze.

It disturbed him enough to allow Dean to fly down the neighbourhood road noisily at too many miles an hour.

Naturally, sleep became a stranger.

Dean was long passed out on the questionably lumpy motel bed and Sam was still at the desk. The white light off his laptop made his eyes itch.

A dryad is a tree nymph, commonly inhabiting oak trees, and generally born into the form of beautiful women. Many dryads were considered to be originally human or children of the nature Gods and it is widely believed that they take on the physical characteristics of the trees they protect.

Your eyes returned to him again, if not for the hundredth time that day. The way the greenery reflected off of them at him. The strength of your legs, how they were wide and grounding like the tree that engulfed your house. Your movements, your walk, how you floated like how the leaves shivered in the forest beyond your garden walls.

Sam had given considerable thought to his soulmate, as most people did.

He was turning thirty-one in a few months time and it had occurred to him that maybe you were on the other side of the world. Maybe you were dead. But people had warned him that he'd know if that were true. He'd feel it, like a gaping wound in his soul.

Castiel had appeared to Dean in a flash of light. In a heroic swoop of love, and Sam thought maybe that could happen to him too.

His thumb was warm where it ran over the scar down his arm.

He wondered if you thought the same.

If you dreamed of his arrival the way he'd dreamed of yours.

It was a silly thing, to dream of meeting your true love. Far too trivial in the life of someone like Sam Winchester when the fate of the world, of good versus evil and heaven versus hell was always in the palm of his hand.

But your figure was burned into his corneas like a blinding torch.

It scared him. Not an easy feat for the man who'd seen it all.

Sam had asked Dean a few years back.

Can someone live without their soulmate?

Dean had shrugged. "Sure, plenty of people do."

Sam had sunk back another sip of his beer at the time, they were somewhere in Florida.

"What if they'd already met them? Can they decide that they don't want to be with them?"

Dean chuckled at that. "I doubt that works out very often."

It was already long after Dean had met Castiel. Long after he'd survived his "my soulmate is an angel and a man what the fuck--" stage.

"What makes you say that? I'm sure some people have a strong enough willpower."

Dean had answered him by referencing some movie, one that Sam knew he loved and it took a bit of pestering for Dean to admit he knew the quote by heart.

He'd blushed nearly red and shrugged, accompanying it by another long slug of his beer.

"It's like at the end of the movie--" When Harry Met Sally, specifically, "When they're at that New Years party and Billy Crystal goes up to Meg Ryan and gives that whole speech, and he says that line."

Sam was grinning by then. "What line?"

Like he hadn't seen the movie enough times to know.

"You know, he when says ... when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Sam had long made peace with the fact that even if you did ever come around, that it would be better to leave you be. To leave you in the safety of a life different to his own.

At least he had.

In the slim hours since leaving your doorstep he'd found himself choking over the thought of never seeing you again. Of his eyes never laying again on your face that gazed so happily up into his own, like you felt his warmth in a cold winter.

He was plagued, possessed, by the thought of never knowing more.

Never knowing the way you liked your tea, how you looked first thing in the morning, or worse, how your lips would feel slow and warm against his own.

He wanted to know your favourite song, and your worst fear. He wanted to know where you came from, how you found Fernglade, Washington. What's your favourite book, do you like to read? Would you like it if he read to you instead? Maybe you would, you'd be tucked against his side in bed and he'd tell you about his favourites. His favourite movies and the way he drinks his coffee and the shampoo he used. Maybe you'd play with his hair, braiding little flowers into the ends--

Sam groaned. His face fell into his hands.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not now.

But he supposed there would never be an adequate time for your arrival.

And god, you weren't even human.

Cross species soulmates weren't impossible - improbable, sure (about as much as being hit by lightening) - but not impossible.

It was only Sam's luck, the Winchester's luck, that they'd both been struck.

Castiel was an angel, but the concept seemed to fade off Dean quickly at the time.

Dean himself had been little help on the matter during the blurry drive back to the motel. "Hey. I mean, all things considered, fairy sex must be crazy."

Sam closed the tab on Dryads: A Modern Day Delve into Greek Mythology. Another page blinked up at him.

When the sun was still setting and Dean was still seated across from him, he had managed to do some work.

It distracted him, barely, but he managed to somewhat narrow the list of potential suspects.

The filters helped. Creatures that steal children. Creatures that live in the woods.

In all the webpages and in some text from John's journal he'd found a common thread. A thinly veiled one, but a lead regardless.

Goblins are generally found living in communities in burrows of forests across Western America. They are known to be mischievous and malignant spirits which often feed on small animals or easy prey and hunt during the warmer months before hibernating in Winter.

Children are easy prey, Sam thought.

Some subspecies were believed to be able to shift into the form of naughty children and sneak into nearby villages to prey on young humans.

It was the last thing his eyes ran over before he slipped the laptop shut. He crawled to the bed, wishing more than anything that his mind would cut him a break, before sliding under the sheets: seeking respite from the crisp autumn Washington

"Rise and shine, Sammy."

The hangers reeled noisily against the rod where Dean had ripped open the curtains and the stark light brought Sam to gasping consciousness.

Sam pulled the pillow up over his face, grumbling into it.

He made out the sound of Dean setting a coffee mug on the side table.

"What time did you get to sleep?"

Answered by another indiscernible whine, Dean sunk into the chair at the tiny table in the room. "Fine, fine ... but did you find anything helpful? Besides fairy porn probably."

It earned him a well-aimed smack in the face with a pillow.

Dean laughed jovially, "Okay, okay."

Sam rose up into a sitting position with a moan. He ran a hand over his face, the other grappling for the already cooling coffee mug on the table.

"Goblins." He muttered around the rim.

Dean paused his own sip, face falling into incredulity.

"Did you just say "goblins"?"

Sam nodded. He didn't elaborate.

"Listen, I know it's a conversation you probably don't wanna have ... but are you sure we're ruling out your little garden fairy from this equation? I mean, it really doesn't look good for her--"

"You're right. I don't want to have this conversation."

Dean shrugged. He fiddled with the coffee mug against his hand.

"It's not her." Sam added quietly.

Nodding slowly, Dean watched his brother with tentative eyes. "Have you thought about that? What you're gonna do?"

Sam rose from the bed, stripping off his shirt. "I don't know man. I don't even think she knows."

It had been a thought that occurred to him at some point in the previous night, that you didn't know. That it was probably selfish to keep it to himself.

"Right, well anyway," Dean reached into the tupperware you'd gifted them the previous afternoon. He'd already cleared out his own and was starting on a pastry from Sam's box. "I was thinking we should go speak to the third vic's mom. Kelly Williams. We haven't spoken to them yet and maybe they can tell us more."

Sam nodded. "Sure. You got an address?"

"No, but she's working a stall at..." Dean picked up a leaflet from the table that Sam assumed he'd found on his coffee run before he was up, "The Fernglade Sunday Market. We can find her there."

"Fine."

He disappeared into the bathroom, Dean heard the shower turn on.

"And you can tell me about this goblins story on the way there!" He called after him.

The door slammed shut.

"So you think goblins are coming into town and stealing kids out their back yards?"

The morning was warm and the market made it more so. It was out on a farm a couple roads down from the boys' motel.

There were little set-up stalls as far as he could see over lush green grass, selling cakes and jewellery and home-made soaps. Couples strolled hand-in-hand and children chased their parent's ankles.

Sam shrugged. "I mean yeah, it makes sense. Dad mentioned about the trees, Y/n mentioned about the forest too."

Dean nodded, his eyes rolling over the scenery. "Sure, but goblins? I've never heard of that anywhere, I mean, how do you even kill it?"

"Them." Sam corrected. "They live in groups."

Dean sighed. "Well that's gonna be fun."

Somewhere down the row, a man was singing behind a set up microphone with a guitar in his lap. A small crowd had formed to watch him.

Sam's stomach had begun churning with that feeling that made his organs feel like jelly again. He shrugged against the collar of his shirt.

"Right, well, there's Kelly Williams' stall." Dean glanced again down at the pamphlet, "Rings and Things ... how creative--"

But Sam's eyes had found on another stall. One further down from Kelly Williams', a little set-up of vases and stain glass sculptures. Rather ... they found the woman standing in front of it.

Of course it was you.

Standing against the breeze in another, unsurprisingly, light green dress. It was ruffled and shimmering and glittery and short. It made Sam's airways tighten to a shut.

You seemed intent on avoiding wearing anything that draped any further than just over the curve of your ass, and Sam prayed to anyone listening that it would stay that way.

"Sammy?"

Dean's face shrunk in confusion, he followed his brother's line of sight. He began to laugh, clearly finding you, and jostled Sam with a hand on his shoulder. "Well, isn't this just your luck."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths again. Dean shoved him in the side.

"Go talk to her, I'll speak to Mrs Williams."

Jumping back into semi-consciousness, Sam shook his head, "No, no, it's fine. We'll go--"

"Stop being a baby, Sam." Dean shrugged him off. "You're gonna have to talk to her eventually. And I hope you do a better job than you did yesterday, because that was a train-wreck."

"Thanks."

But Dean's figure was already retreating.

"Asshole." Sam muttered under his breath.

Eyes found you again, they strained against the sunlight. He could make out your face from where he stood: it was twisting, falling into a creased brow that Sam didn't like the look of.

His legs began moving before he had chance to instruct them and it only took a couple paces of his long structure to find your side, heart thumping violently in his ears.

Your eyes lifted from the table, there was an elderly lady sitting in the shade of the cover and looking unimpressed.

"Sam." You smiled up at him and he swore in that second he could listen to you saying his name forever on repeat and never grow bored. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey." He sighed, it was louder than he anticipated and he could feel his cheeks growing warmer. "W-What are you doing here?"

You stuttered, "Well, I was just looking at this cute little crocodile--"

His eyes found where your hand was motioning over the woman's table. He was unsurprised to find it littered with stained-glass sculptures of animals. Lions and fish and elephants among others.

But the woman interrupted before you could find the end of your sentence.

"I don't sell to kidnappers."

Her elderly face was curled up in disgust. Sam was taken aback by her directness.

He was more taken aback by your polite smile at her.

"That's fine. I'll be on my way." You nodded kindly, looking back up to Sam. "Wanna take a walk?"

Sam's bones had begun aching with fury in the small seconds since he'd arrived. His brow-bone was heavy set against his eyes.

He glanced over at the crocodile you'd referenced. It was about the size of a shoebox, glassy in bottle green tones and grinning a mouthful of sharp teeth up at him. He could already see it sitting happily on a spot between your books and photo frames, maybe up on the mantle above your fireplace.

Brushing softly against your elbow with his hand, a movement that sent a stone cold shiver up his whole body, he shook his head. "Just one sec--"

He turned to the woman, sticking his finger in the direction of the lifeless creature.

"I'd like to buy that crocodile please."

"Oh, Sam, you don't have to--"

But the woman was unmoved, "No. I'm not selling anything to anyone associated with her."

She stuck a shaking finger in your direction and Sam suddenly wanted to rip the stall to pieces.

"We should just go..." Your voice was small and he fought hard against pulling your frame into his side.

Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket for his FBI identification: flipping it out into the daylight for the woman to see. Her eyes widened behind thinly framed spectacles.

"I said I'd like to buy that crocodile." His voice was stern, heavy laden with his trembling aggravation. "How much is it?"

The woman's face flickered between emotions, before settling on vexation. "Forty dollars." She mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forty dollars." She replied more clearly, face turning red in embarrassment.

Sam slipped away his badge and dug for his wallet in his pocket, he flipped between the notes and handed her two twenty dollar bills. The woman was quiet while she wrapped the creature, avoiding your and Sam's eyes in the process.

She handed it over with a scathing, "Get away from my stall."

"With pleasure." He turned to you, your face was a cherry red shade. "I'll take you up on that walk."

You stepped away, offering a small sheepish "thanks" to the woman scowling at your and Sam's retreating figures.

"Here." He handed you the crocodile gently, and you took it with tentative hands. "Get a lot of that?"

But you shrugged off his question, grabbing for your purse. "You really didn't need to do this, Sam. Let me just pay you--"

Sam stopped, taking your forearm into his hand - the tingle it sent up his body again didn't go amiss - and he huffed. "Please, please. Don't. It's a gift."

The sun was shining off your dress and it made your face seem lighter. "Sam, really, I can't ask you to--"

"Please?"

You paused, lashes blinking carefully up at him and god he could really kiss you right there--

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Smiling again, easing the tightness in Sam's chest, you nodded. "Fine."

You held the crocodile up to your face, "What are we gonna name him?"

"We?" Sam laughed and you laughed back at him.

"Sure, he's ours now." You tucked it under your arm again.

Ours. He was fragmentally taken away with the thought of something belonging to them, to us. A house, a couch, a dog (or a fox if that's what you wanted)--

"Anyways, where's the other one?"

Sam was brought back to the conversation.

"Oh, uh, Dean?" his eyes grazed over the stalls, pointing over to where Dean was talking with the tall Kelly Williams behind a tray of seashell necklaces. "Talking to one of the victims."

"Right, I almost forgot." You fiddled with your bag over your shoulder. "He decided whether he's killing me yet?"

His mouth tilted teasingly. "What makes you think that I've decided I'm not here to kill you?"

You shrugged, teeth flashing in a gut-wrenchingly beautiful smile. "Well, you bought me this, and ... you don't seem the type."

"The type?"

"Nah, you're too sweet on me already."

Sam's stomach did a somersault in his chest. "I--"

"Besides, you couldn't do it here. Too much blood, too many witnesses ..."

Sam's hair flicked over his shoulder where he tossed his head back to laugh. "Right. You've thought about the logistics already."

"Sure have." You nodded. "Any headway on the kids?"

"Some." He shrugged. "There's this fairy--"

"Dryad."

"--living in this petting zoo in this cottage on the outskirts of town..."

"Fine." You conceded. "I won't ask."

"No, but we have--"

"Ah, look at you two. Getting along like a house on fire."

Sam hadn't noticed his brother's approaching footsteps. Dean clapped a jolly hand over his brother's arm.

You smiled in greeting. "Good morning Dean."

He nodded. "'Morning Tinkerbell."

"Dean."

Chuckling you nodded. "Good one. Haven't heard that before."

The sun was hot on Sam's shoulders, Dean was making it hotter with his conspicuous side eye.

"What's that you got there?" He motioned over the figure under your arm.

You lifted it up proudly, "It's my crocodile. Sam got it for me. The lady wouldn't sell it to me."

"Oh, Sam got it for you, huh?" Dean smirked, relishing in the admission.

"Yep."

The glitter in your eye was making Sam's knees buckle.

"W-We should get going ..." He shifted from his one leg to the other. "Work to do ... and stuff."

"Right," you agreed, fixing the strap over your shoulder again. "I should also head home, not very welcome 'round here anyways."

Confusion glazed briefly over Dean's face but he said nothing on it.

"Yeah, stuff to do." He nodded.

You began your walk past them, finding Sam's gaze. "Thanks again, Sam. I'll see you boys around."

His eyes followed you where your crystals were clinking around your neck. "Yeah. No problem."

Barely out of your earshot, Dean turned to Sam. "A crocodile, huh?"

"Shut up."

It wasn't another two days before Sam saw you again.

The boys dove head first back into research, Mrs Kelly Washington hadn't much more to add beyond the fact that she heard another child's voice in the moments before her daughter's disappearance.

"I mean, there was some mention in the lore about goblins being able to turn into kids. Naughty ones at that."

Dean sighed over his bar-top lunch. He took another swig of beer.

"Okay, so what, these ... goblins are coming into town as children and grabbing the kids from their yards? Maybe they'd met somewhere before then, at school or the park?"

Sam shifted the salad around his plate, bored. "Yeah, maybe."

There was a depressingly thin amount of information in John's journal on goblins and the website lore was too broad to even begin sifting through it before another child was taken.

"Well we know that eight kids are taken each time, right?"

Nodding, Sam took an unenthusiastic bite of tomato.

"That means there's still two kids to be taken. I mean, there's only been six victims and autumn is two weeks away from ending, if the story is true that they hunt before winter."

The boy's didn't have to wait long. They were less than an hour clear of the dilapidated bar they'd stopped in for lunch when the call came over the police monitor in the car.

"Units, this is dispatch. We have a suspected 134 at 98 Calvary, requesting assistance."

Code 134. Kidnapping.

Dean found Sam's eye across the front seat before taking a screeching turn into the next street.

Cavalry road was just a few streets down and the scene was as they'd expected. Burning red and blue cop cars littered the street and Dean pulled the Impala into a space between them.

There was a scuffle of officers, in the corner of the driveway a man holding a sobbing woman to his chest. The parents.

Dean and Sam flashed their badges at the nearest deputy.

"What's the situation?"

The officer huffed, tightening his grip on either side of his belt. "We think the kid was taken, Frankie Moore. Disappeared about two hours ago, the parents only called in the last twenty minutes. They thought he'd just run off."

Dean nodded and Sam watched over the scene around him.

"Any witnesses?"

The cop shook his head, Taylor, his badge read. "None. Right out the backyard, just like the others."

"Did the parents see anything, hear anything?" Sam pressed.

"Not from what we can gather from them right now, they're pretty out of shape." Taylor motioned back to where the Mrs Moore was desperately pushing out sentencing between racking sobs. "But we've got a suspect, they're out fetching them right now."

Dean glanced over the officer, "A suspect?"

Sam's hands were starting to itch. He twisted them against his the cuffs of his sleeve.

"Yeah, neighbour saw them out in the forest about an hour ago. Called it into dispatch. They never took it seriously until this call came in."

Somewhere behind them a short siren yelped from one of the cars.

"Did they have the kid or what?" Dean's face was laden with confusion, the story twisting around his brain.

"No, but they've been taken in on suspicion. Talk of the town and such." Taylor responded and Sam's heart sunk to his knees.

There was a click over the officer's radio. "Suspect is in custody."

He pulled it closer to his mouth, "Copy that."

Sam tugged up on the end of his sleeve, revealing his wrists in the afternoon light. They were turning a pinkish red. Handcuffs.

"Dean."

Dean's back stiffened at his brother's tone, eyes finding his wrists. He sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam's brain was turning muddy. "The suspect, is she a woman?"

Taylor nodded. "As far as I know, yes."

There was nothing else said.

Sam fled the scene as if the perpetrator himself. He flew into the passenger's seat with the force of an attacking bear.

Dean chased after him, slotting the key into the ignition: setting the car alight.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking--"

Houses flew past the car, streets and pedestrians, but Sam had no space to consider them.

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

But Dean was persistent, knuckles white around the wheel. "She's your ... your soulmate, I get that, but our leads are thin. Have you considered that she could really be doing this?"

The station came into view at the end of the road. Lights from the cars were flashing in Sam's eyes. His head spun.

"She's not a monster, Dean."

"But she is, Sam! She is! She's not a human."

Dean pushed down on the brake in front of the sheriff's station and Sam was out the car before it had fully pulled to a stop.

He threw the doors open. Officers were flocking around like seagulls over an abandoned hot dog.

Sam grabbed the arm of the nearest one, firm in his grip.

"The suspect, where is she?"

"Uh, they've just moved her to--"

The doors swung open again behind him and the rumbling of the station was overpowered by a loud low whine. It was followed by an equally distressed yelp.

Sam turned to find a row of officers, leading one after the other like ducks, each with a rattling metal cage of a different animal. Your animals.

Goose was yipping wildly in the confines of the box. A woman holding Lydia followed him. They come in procession: the rabbits, the ferrets, the ducks, the budgies.

"What the fuck!" An officer close to the door jumped out the way where Lydia hissed angrily at him from between the bars.

"No, please!"

Sam spun on his heel. His hands felt heavy with helplessness. It was your voice, echoing across the station and reverberating in his brain.

"Please, just leave them! They're not gonna hurt anyone. I haven't done anything--"

His feet chased after the sound. Sam found a long corridor near the back of the room, there were two officers tugging on either of your arms. Your eyes were bouncing wildly between each of the officers where they disappeared into the evidence room with your pets.

Your gaze found his own. "Sam!"

"Y/n." He was bounding down the corridor, long stretches of leg, but the officers were adamant in their grip.

"Sam, I promise I didn't-- it wasn't me. I swear--"

There was a loud huff and a heave and you stumbled backwards into a closed holding cell. Your hands wrapped between the bars.

"I know," Sam was breathless. "I know you didn't--"

Suddenly there was hands on his chest. "Sir, you need to get out of here."

"I need to speak with her--"

"Sir you can't do that. You need to speak to the sheriff."

Sam's chest was rumbling with a frenzied desperation. He couldn't pull his eyes off the fragments of your figure behind the bars.

The officers shoved him again. "Sir--"

He ripped himself off their grip, hair flushed back against his reddening face and he turned back down the corridor.

Dean was already at the sheriff's desk.

"--suspicious behaviour--"

"What the hell is going on?" Sam's voice rumbled across the room. "On what basis are you holding her?"

The sheriff was a small man and he looked smaller under Sam's furious stature.

"It's like I was telling your partner here, agent," He was patting a handkerchief over his balding head. "Y/n Y/l/n is being held on the basis of suspicious activity."

"What exactly is your definition of suspicious activity?"

The sheriff shrugged, "Well we got a call in of her roaming around the forest--"

Sam could feel his fists tightening at his sides, "What are people not allowed to go into the forest in this town or does that make them all kidnappers? You have no evidence--"

"Sammy, calm down." Dean's hand found Sam's chest but he shrugged him off.

"Release her. Right now."

But the sheriff shook his head. "Unfortunately, not even FBI have the power to do that. State's laws say she can be detained for 12 hours pending investigative procedures."

"Investigative procedures--?"

By then, Dean had him by the arm. "Okay, okay. Let's go cool off--"

He tugged Sam towards the door, surprising both himself and Dean by allowing him to do so successfully.

The cool dusk air rushed over his face. Sam took a deep breath.

"They have no evidence, Dean--"

"I get that, but you need to calm down. You're not helping the situation by threatening the sheriff."

An officer passed them with another cage. Three hedgehogs.

Sam ran a hand over his face. He took a deep breath.

"You don't even believe she's innocent, Dean."

There was quiet for a long moment.

Sam fell into a bench bolted against the side of the building. His hands found his face again. After a moment, Dean crouched into the spot beside him.

"Look." He sighed. "If you believe her, I believe you. Alright?"

Sam's eyes were watching his shoes. He nodded, only half believing his brother's claim.

They sat like that for nearly an hour with evening settling over Fernglade around them and the autumn crisp seeping into their suits.

After a long resounding silence, one that had stretched on past Dean's wide yawn, Dean rose to his feet.

"Sammy, we should go home. Get some headway on this goblins angle."

At that, Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna stay."

"What, until she's out?"

"Yeah."

Dean's eyes were dripping in pity and it made Sam's blood boil.

"That's--" he raised his watch into his eyeline, "She's still got another ten hours. It's only six o' clock now."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Sam--"

"Dean."

Another cold silence.

Sam pressed his hair back with a wide hand, conceding. "Look, I'm sorry. But I'm gonna stay. You head back to the motel, do some work and get some sleep. I'll be fine."

Dean considered him, but he made no further argument and Sam thought momentarily it was maybe because he knew he couldn't budge him in the same argument with Cas.

"Alright. Fine." Dean nodded, tugging his jacket closer against the cold. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sam watched his brother's retreating figure all the way until the Impala had disappeared down the next street before going to stand.

The doors swung open with a whine, the station had cooled to a quieter buzz than when he'd first burst in. The sheriff had disappeared into an office off in the corner of the room.

Finding the nearest officer, Johnson, behind a short wooden desk, Sam approached him.

Officer Johnson glanced warily up at him from the papers he'd been filling out. He'd probably been witness to his first outburst.

"Uhm," Sam cooled his voice to a deferential timber. "The animals at the back, what's gonna happen to them?"

The officer set his pen down, "Well I'm doing the paperwork on them now. They'll be released if and when she does."

"If?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, if they don't find anything they'll let her go. Only got twelve hours."

Sam shifted his weight, running his eyes over the station. Somehow it was colder inside than the bench he'd just abandoned.

"Right."

The image returned to him again of your tiny green dress, the satin sleeves that reached down over your arms - he wondered for a moment if you wore them to cover all his scars - and the shiny ends that left your legs a prize for the bite of the freezing air that nipped at him even through all his layers.

He dug his hands into his coat pocket, pulling out his badge and his wallet and his phone to slip them into his pant pockets. Then he shrugged out the jacket.

Sam held it out to the officer. "Would you mind giving this to her?"

The officer took it with tentative hands, he gave it a glance over but made no move to stand.

"There's nothing in it." Sam huffed. "It's freezing in here, and unless you want her to die of hypothermia before morning, I suggest you do what I've asked."

He was considering it, Sam could tell by how his eyes flickered over the office door behind which the sheriff was hiding, but eventually elected to stand.

"Fine."

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@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey @haileycannotcometothephonern @i-cant-write-for-shit @did-someone-change-my-name @1313ek @chlorine11 @ch33ze00 @random-fandom-gurl @melancholicandmessy @harley-quinns-girlfriend @cardigan-ns @charliethealpaccaso @crystalandphoebewifey @nonbinarycryptic @multitargaryen @darylsleathervest @aquatic-bread @ferrersbiggestfan @miles-stargirl @secretsuitcasegooplawyer

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester drabble #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

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castieldelamancha · 8 months

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Castiel opens his eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep from them, he looks around and, by what he can see in the darkness surrounding him he recognizes the room he is in, just by how similar it looks to his. He knows it isn't his simply because his room in the bunker has never felt so lived, it hasn't looked the part either.

In his room he has never felt this safe, in peace and content. He never thought sleep could be so restful and ... wonderful.

Maybe it all has to do with the man he has between his arms. Dean is laying on his side, Castiel is pressed close to him, one arm under his head, another thrown across his waist, one of his legs over Dean's own, resting on his hip.

He focuses on the back of Dean's head, letting the memories of the previous day flood his mind. His heart skips a beat.

He came back yesterday, he meet with the brothers just a couple hours ago. Yesterday Dean gave him a hug that felt way much longer than any they have shared up to that point and, with a hand cradling the side of his face, he told him that he loves him too, that he missed him and then, in what Castiel will always think of as one of the most special moments of his long existence, he pressed a chaste, short and sweet kiss to his lips.

He can tell the exact moment Dean wakes up because of the way his breathing hitches, changing its up until now calmed rythm as he realizes he isn't alone. He is almost sure Dean is going to move away from him, or tell him to back away, since this isn't the way they went to sleep the night before. Castiel will do so, these things take time, he knows.

Instead, Dean, in a show of trust, vulnerability and a gentle tenderness Castiel could very well get used to and that he will treasure forever, simply turns around in his arms, pressing himself to Castiel's chest, kissing him there before lifting his head up to hide his face against the side of Castiel's neck, " morning, sweetheart." He mutters. Castiel's arms tighten their grip around Dean.

"Good morning, Dean."

#destiel #listen i was going to make it little spoon cas and then dean winchester himself appeared in my house and told me to stop being so dumb #he is tge little spoon always #😔#vanessa writes ✨#ficlet

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bunnybunbun0 · 4 months

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Boyfriend Cass headcanos!

Pairing: Castiel X reader

Warnings: based when little feathered lovie fell and became human

A/N: I wanna really get back on my feet when it comes to writing this year (happy new year's by the way!!) And what better way to start than headcanos? Not proofread and typed on my phone so probably much typos!

• I wanna start ou saying how adorable it would be helping him out to understand humanity!

• Just imagine in the morning he asking you for help to start the toaster cause he have no idea how but he knows he likes his bread toasted!

• once he got the hang of it better tho he would spoil you as best as he could with his limited skills and his clumsiness

• he'd make you a pbj every single time he makes one for himself,cause if he feels hungry he bet you does too

• becoming human would also make him so much more empathetic than he already is when it comes to you being hurt

•the tiniest scratch on you and he's fumbling with the first aid kit

•would be the CEO of taking care of you when you're on your period! Makes sure you drink plenty of water,gives you medicine for your cramps and eagerly massages every teensy part of your body

•confused anytime you make and obscure pop culture reference, giving you a more than glad excuse to introduce him to some of your favourite films

•i know this man loves gossip,so fill him in on every little drama happening everywhere,would listen to you babble about celebrity drama for hours

•when everything was set and he came back to the bunker he was sharing a room with you,and it was just an angelical drop on your girly room

• so you took him to a target to let him get a piece of decoration to make it sure it's his room too! He chose a bee plushie cause he's still fascinated by them<3

• honey would be his pet name for you,he thinks it's classic and still sustains his love for bees and for you

• your kisses are the only thing to make him relax when he's nervous or overthinking,he loves forehead kisses more than anything!

• he doesn't have much things but loves sharing what he has with you

• he's a true gentleman and always let you use his trenchcoat when it's windy

•loves loves loves holding hands!

• he loves being in contact with nature so expect a lot of outdoor dates like picnics or hikes

•is ridiculously gentlemanly, opens car doors for you,grabs your hands when you're coming down the stairs, and things like that

• his biggest role models to be a good boyfriend are things like really old black and white romances and radio novels

• as much as he doesn't say so he misses his angel days dearly,so the way to compensate it is telling you every single story of his celestial days

• he gives you a feather of his wings like a prized possession,as a reminder he'll always be with you with powers or not

•OMG WHEN HE DISCOVERS WHAT A CUDDLE IS!!! you're obligated to sleep flushed to his chest every night or else he wont have a good night sleep

•if you get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or have a glass of water he will just follow you and wait for you staring at you like a cat with his sleepy eyes

• I feel like one day out of the blue he'll just randomly ask you to marry him

• when got confused and startled by his question he just said he thought that's what he did when humans loved each other

•long story short as soon as there's not an impending apocalypse you plan on tying the knot!

•the time of most happiness in his millenniums of life having a domestic life with you was his favourite thing

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #Castiel x fem!reader #human!cas #castiel fluff #castiel fanfiction #castiel fic #castiel headcanon

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theconstantsidekick · 1 year

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no because, supernatural is absolutely a train wreck. it's a colossal accident that is happening in front of you that you can't look away from. it is homophobic and non-sensical and downright laughable at times but you know what? I love it. I absolute love it.

season 1 was absolutely beautiful. you don't understand, really, you don't. they had a piss poor budget, you can see that in every frame. but does that stop it from being fucking beautiful? no. it is stylised and ambitious and a fucking visual treat.

and this is like the first fucking episode. the shots have so much character! and that's nothing to say of the characters themselves. from the first fucking scene you can clearly distinguish sam and dean's character clear as day. their motivations, their dreams, their hopes, all of it. it's established so well. their dynamic is unmatched. does it also have a lot of garbage? yes for sure. because what in the name of hell was that episode with bugs? what glue were they sniffing when they green lit that one? no seriously... I wanna try some.

but then they recovered, cause they did faith. my god, what an episode. WHAT AN EPISODE. that motherfucking reaper haunts my every waking hour

like yeah, I love me some baby dean and baby sam going on their small scale ghost hunts while learning deep lessons about who they are as people and what they want from life.

also that 'laugh I nearly died' needle drop? where sam sees jess? god tier editing, GOD TIER.

then they came back with season 2. and here is my most controversial opinion that should not be controversial at all, season 2 is the best season of supernatural to ever supernatural.

what is and what should never be, hollywood babylon, heart, nightshifter, and the whole fucking season actually. not a single miss in my humble opinion. and that finale? THAT FINALE. beautiful, magnificent. ground breaking character writing, everything comes full circle while simultaneously opening up new plot lines to explore.

and my god, yellow eyes is an epic villain. he is a very viciously written villain like, he's... my god. it ain't a walk in the park writing villains, believe you me patient readers, villains are harder to write than the protagonists, always. well, at least the compelling ones are.

now season 3 suffered because of the writer's strike, but didn't miss much either. like yeah some of the hits don't hit as hard as the season 2, but hey, mystery spot, time is on my side, ghostfacers, bedtime stories are nothing to laugh about. those episodes are fucking solid, like most of the season. and there is so much raw emotion is sam's need to save dean, it just makes my weak winchester brothers loving heart throb a little too hard. also...

need I say more?

does the show did look little more washed out and boring? yes. but it's cool, cause we're moving on to season 4.

listen, I kinda just wanna leave all my season's critique at this. i mean, yeah this. this is it. this is the long and short of it; castiel. i don't think i need to get anymore into it

so season 5 is just—

i'm kidding. obviously i'm gonna talk about season 4, at length.

listen, being able to introduce angels this late in the game and then have them be a such perfectly hidden players is a masterstroke of genius. it just is. i am a writer guys... apart from the relentless fanfic as well lol. and when i tell you, introducing a new big player which is also (not so) secretly the next big bad and playing it off as smoothly as they did in season 4, is beyond hard. but the biggest home run these fuckers hit is castiel and the best part is they weren't aiming for a one lol. and oh oh, the way they use their very VERY limited budget to show wings with just flashing the fucking light? CINEMA! that's fucking cinema right there man. i work on film sets, i am telling you, this is the smartest filmmaking choice they make on the entire show. it adds so much visual intrigue while being so awfully easy to execute. BRILLIANt.

now i cannot talk about supernatural without talking about the deancas romance of it all, which i understand not everyone can see or wants to, which is fine. to each their own. you consume art the way you want to, i don't care much as long as you can acknowledge that castiel and dean's friendship was just some of the best written television that mankind has ever seen. is that too grand a statement? yes. does that make it any less true? no.

they even brought back the moody lighting.

and then there's the episodes this season, most of which are home runs in their own regard. just like beautiful writing, the character development for cas, for dean, for sam, even the late john winchester is wild. anna is a wonderful addition, so is uriel, and alastair? they don't make villains like him anymore, they just fucking don't. AND THAT GODDAMN PLOT TWIST AT THE END? man! the finale was just... too good. Chuck's introduction is absolutely wonderful, even if they ruin him by the end but that happens a decade later so wtv, who cares? But,,,, Jimmy. Fucking. Novak. That's all. that's the tweet. yeah. i'm gonna end the season 4 fan fair with jimmy.

moving to season 5.

subjectively speaking, this is my fucking favorite. this season is a writer's dream while also being their goddamn nightmare. so many WONDERFUL characters to play with and such a grand plot but you get to see it all on a very small, consumable scale which is just... it's too smart for me to not mention. i won't start naming the plot points and neither will i name my favourite episodes because what even is the point? all of it was fucking perfect. you don't understand how hard it is to develop characters to such an extent that they become so familiar to the audience that they know their next move before you even put it on the screen. and supernatural had that. they tied everything together with so much care and consideration, just... AAAH so good.

a special shoutout goes to endverse!cas, crowley and death this season. you all know it in your bones that those three were just the absolute scene stealers. especially death's introduction... immaculate.

they did lose a few points for not being as aesthetically pleasing as the past few seasons but hey, gabriel was enough to make a smooth recovery.

but this... this is the end of the road for me people. season 5 is where it should have ended. in no way shape or form am i saying that there aren't a few good episodes here and there after this, because there are. i think season 5 was so fucking solid, tied up so many goddamn lose ends and then just put a cute little hell shaped bow on top and i just... yeah. this was and should have been the end of the road. do not get me wrong, i love me some jack kline, charlie bradbury, kevin tran, rowena macleod and eileen lahey but were they worth the bullshit ending i had to sit through? not really.

i absolutely think if there weren't more episodes of supernatural I would never have become a destiel fan, because i started shipping them when dean made cas a mixtape in season TWELVE! but my god, the good times were so scattered amongst the horseshit that even when i found those hidden gems, they were so fucking drenched in the stink that they lost their value.

the worst of it all is that, i cannot explain to you what supernatural means to me in a million words, because it is a part of me, heart and soul. i fucking AM castiel. i am a gay little angel you hear me? i love this show. i do. i'm glad it went on for however long it did but i feel like once in a while i need to write shit like this or read shit like this to remind myself of the show that it used to be. of it's beautiful cinematography, of it's clever little storytelling techniques. of it's wonderful cast. of how epic their song choices used to be.

FUcking RENEGADE? iconic. wanted, dead or alive? cannot hear the song without hearing sam's off tune goat bleating that he called singing along.

i need to remind myself of how afraid i used to be of lucifer. of how much i cried while watching dark side of the moon; when dean and sam burst the crackers, and how i learnt the lyrics to knocking on heaven's door just because of that scene.

sometimes i just have to walk through memory lane and look back at gabriel's death, the good one, the only one. it was so fucking meaningful. i have to think of "we are making it up as we go" to be able to breathe properly because those moments were so fucking beautiful.

fuck the big ones, i even remind myself of the small ones, of dean's handwriting being in all caps, just like him. of sam's fucking huge laptop with that weird blue black sticker in the middle. of castiel's tie, that just was the right shade of blue, and hung all wrong but just naturally enough to add so much more to his character than any fucking dialogue could. every small little detail of supernatural that made it so damn supernatural. i miss it all.

idk. i'm rambling. whatever.

#superntural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #deancas #destiel #spn #spn season 1 #spn season 2 #spn season 3 #spn season 4 #spn season 5 #dean #cas #sam #dean and sam #i think it'll add onto this post later #as i think of more things #because you best believe i will

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welldonebeca · 8 days

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A Plan*

Summary: When you are curious about Castiel’s true form, your boyfriend has a plan. (A.K.A.: Size Kink.) Pairing: Castiel x F!Reader Warnings: Tension. Fluff. Smut. Size kink, degrading kink, praise kink, dirty talking, size difference, fluff. Patreon promo.

(A little peek)

It had been a week since you had talked about it, and you had given Castiel space to think about it. Honestly, you thought he was looking for ways to let you down gently.

"I have a plan," he told you.

"A plan?" you asked.

He nodded.

"Yes," your boyfriend sat down by your side. "My true form is too big and I don't want to overuse my grace, but I can minimise it."

His words made you frown, a bit.

"Minimise it?" you repeated.

"I'll make it smaller. But... accurate."

You nodded slowly, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

"And?" you asked.

"Let's go," he stood. "We can take one of the cars."

You blinked.

"Cas, how are you going to do it?" you insisted.

Your boyfriend stopped, and you chuckled when you saw he had just realised he had skipped an explanation.

"I found a place," he told you. "We can drive there, and I'll show it to you."

You wanted to push it, but bit your lip and took a piece of paper, quickly writing a note down and placing it under the ugly paperweight they had on the table.

Half an hour later, Castiel was by your side, giving you instructions as you drove out and in the direction of what looked like a dark field, chuckling to yourself when you realised how strange it looked.

This looked like the start of a tale about a serial killer.

Well, it wasn't too different from your line of work if you were to think of it.

"We are here," he told you, and jumped out when you did so.

You turned the car off and raised your eyebrows in surprise when you realised he was undressing, furrowing your brows in confusion.

"Is this part of the plan?" you asked.

"I don't want to damage my clothes," he explained, laying his trench coat over the car and placing each other piece over it.

"Close your eyes," he affirmed, standing with only his underwear on, and you complied.

There was a strange sound, and you heard Castiel exhaling.

It almost felt whimsical, like music, or a gush of wind.

And his presence, alone, it... made you feel different.

Good different.

"Open your eyes, my love," you heard, though unsure where his voice had come from.

It was everywhere.

You followed his instructions and your heart raced in your chest as you took him in.

His wings were the first thing that caught your eye. They were still black but shone with rainbow colours, majestically big.

Then, you looked at his body and was just shocked. He still resembled his vessel, like the image you knew of him, but was now double his previous size or more, well over 12 feet tall.

His body looked like carved marble, with white and blue colours that just felt right and perfect.

"Cas," you sighed.

You didn't even have words for what you were feeling.

"You're beautiful."

Castiel's lips curled in a smile, but he seemed awed as he looked at his own body.

"I look more like Jimmy than the last time," he confessed softly.

"Is that alright?" you asked.

"It is," he confirmed, sounding a little guilty. "My time on Earth has made me see my vessel as myself. I think my form reflects that. I'm sorry, this isn't what I thought you would see."

You stepped closer to him and extended your hand, and your boyfriend knelt in front of you with a hesitant look on his face, but it faded when you touched his cheek. He was warm, like when you touched a lightbulb, but it caused you no pain or discomfort.

"I think we have already established that I will always see you as beautiful regardless of what you look like," you caressed his warm skin. "I love you in any form, because you are you. And you are perfect."

He relaxed, sighing softly over you, and moved back slowly.

You were ready to let him go, but your eyes widened when they fell on a detail.

He had a dick.

. . .

"A Plan" is up on my Patreon right now. To have early access to it and many other stories, consider subscribing to my page! It's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega

Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23 @imagefanfictionlover @smalltowndivaj @tayrae515 @afanofmanystuffs @oneshoeshort @andkatiethings @wakanda-sometimes @akshi8278

@xoxabs88xox @izbelross @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24

#welldonebeca's the plan #castiel #castiel smut #castiel x reader #castiel supernatural #castiel x you #castiel x reader smut #spn #patreon promo #patreon writer

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 1 year

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Post-Hunt Comfort

Summary - Part 5 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic)

Warnings - mentions of periods, nausea, smut (nothing too graphic, just mentioned), mild swearing

Word Count: 1883

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. This one gets a little emotional, I literally cried while writing it. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy!

You wake up feeling groggy, yet better. You take in your surroundings slowly, noting the cold empty bed, your laptop beside you playing soothing music, and the lack of other movement or sounds. As you sit up you notice the weapons bag is also gone, having left just your silver knife that Dean had gifted you with both of your initials engraved on the blade, and your gun on the nightstand for emergencies. Your stomach sinks realising they must’ve gone hunting the nest on their own while you were sleeping. You knew Dean would be itching to get it over and done with so you could go back to the bunker and rest off your “worst-ever period” in comfort. But still, you wish he would’ve waited or at least let you know. That’s when your eyes land on a folded note on your nightstand beside your gun.

Good evening my love,

I hope you slept well and are feeling better. I left a bowl of soup in the fridge for you, just heat it up and eat what you can. Also, help yourself to the chocolate that’s in there too, and make sure to stay hydrated. Maybe even take a nice warm bath. Then cuddle with your new bunny. I made sure it’s nice and soft and cuddly, just how you like.

Sam and I will be back as soon as we can. I love you.

Dean xx

Dean had never been the type to leave you letters, he was more the quick, shorthand text type. But you loved the letter and you planned to treasure it. You shut your laptop and then got up to follow his careful instructions.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You start to stress when the sun goes down and you’re still alone. You’d taken the time to do everything outlined in Dean’s note, including having a nice long soak in the tub with the lavender bath bomb that you found sitting on the bathroom sink. Another thoughtful gift left by your fiancé no doubt. And you’d quite enjoyed yourself, you felt so relaxed and much better all around. But when you notice how dark it is outside all that relaxation drains away, replaced by the stress of wondering where the boys are and if they are even alive.

You clutch your new stuffed bunny to your chest as you sit on your bed waiting. You pick up your phone multiple times willing for them to call or text saying they are on their way. When you’re not checking your phone, you’re staring at the door, listening for the purr of that much comforting engine.

An hour passes and still nothing. You start to feel sick again; your stomach’s in knots. Tears creep down your cheeks.

I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this alone.

Out of desperation and utter fear that the love of your life and his brother may actually be dead, you decide to pray to the one good angel you know.

Castiel, if you can hear me please bring my boys home safe. Please, I just need to know they’re safe. Please protect them. I can’t lose them. Please, Cass, bring my boys back to me.

You lose track of time as you continue to pray and cry for your boys. You don’t know what time it is when Dean, Sam and Cass walk in. Dean’s arms are around you within seconds, his lips leaving kisses all over your face and neck as he promises he’s safe and apologises for scaring you.

“There were more than we anticipated, but it’s okay. We’re both okay. I’m okay. I’m right here, sweetheart. I promise we’re gonna go home first thing in the morning. Back to the comfort and safety of the bunker, okay? Thanks for calling Cass, by the way. He’s no substitute for your badass but he did save our asses, so thank you. You’re always saving me.”

You hug him even tighter, sobbing into his chest as he holds you just as tight. Dean takes a deep breath as he leans down to kiss along the exposed skin of your neck.

“You smell amazing, sweetheart. Did you enjoy that bath bomb? I’ll have to buy another one so I can enjoy it with you next time.”

A small smile graces your face at his words; he always knows exactly how to make you feel better. You move your head slightly, and Dean takes full advantage of the extra available skin.

“I can’t wait to get you back to the bunker. It’s been way too long, baby girl,” he groans lowly into your neck.

Suddenly, you feel super aware of your surroundings and how on show you are, with Sam and Cass sitting at the table across the room talking. You can feel Dean’s growing excitement against your thigh through his jeans. “Dean, baby.”

Dean pulls away reluctantly and looks up at you, he groans. “I know, I know. I’m gonna go have a cold shower, then we can cuddle and get some sleep.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up to the feeling of Dean’s lips on your neck and his hands tickling the bare skin of your stomach where your tank top had ridden up overnight.

“Hmmm, I could get used to waking up like this.”

“Good morning, beautiful, sleep well? How’re you feeling? You feel a little bloated still, how’re your cramps?”

“I feel better, for now at least.”

“I’m glad to hear that. What do you want for breakfast, let me take you out … uh, if you’re up for it. We haven’t even properly celebrated our engagement yet.”

“Dean…”

Dean helps you turn around in your arms before sitting up. He takes your left hand in his running his fingers over the ring. “You did mean it when you said yes, right?”

“What?”

“I mean, you’ve been a little distant ever since. You’re not talking to me like you usually do. Are we okay? Did I move too fast? If you’re not ready…”

“Dean, baby, of course, I meant it,” you say as you take a quick glance around the room, finding the other bed, table and couch empty. You figure Sam must be out on his morning run so you climb onto Dean’s lap. You wrap your arms around his neck as he just watches you. You bring your lips to him, pecking him lightly before deepening the kiss, Dean instantly kisses back. One hand holding the back of your head, pulling you closer while the other grips your waist, urging you to grind against his slight morning wood. Your lips are swollen and his hands are at the hem of your shirt pulling it up when you hear the doorknob turn. You pull away quickly and race into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You hear Dean groan in frustration before you turn the water on.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s 6 pm when you pull into another dingy motel room in Dallas, Texas. Thankfully, you weren’t here for a hunt, you just couldn’t stand another 8 hours in the car yet, you needed a break. You were feeling uncharacteristically car sick, which luckily Dean was still attributing to your so-called terrible period.

Once you’re all settled in the room Sam offers to go for a supply and dinner run, and you opt to go with him much to your fiancé’s dismay. You knew that despite your best efforts this morning he was still feeling a little dejected. Every time your eyes met in the rearview mirror during the day all you could see was concern. Those looks used to be filled with love and cheekiness. You were starting to worry that you would lose him. But you just didn’t have the strength or energy to do anything about it. Between the waves of nausea, heartburn and your all-over-the-place emotions, you didn’t have the capacity for anything that Dean wanted or needed from you, not to mention the lack of privacy.

As you walk through the gas mart with Sam you can’t help but stop in front of the pregnancy tests, debating whether to take one. You know once you do there will be no hiding it from Dean, while you’re not certain you can keep playing it off as a period with no bloody pads or tampons to dispose of. But you know if you bring the test back he will surely see it. You’re just not sure you’re ready for that conversation yet.

Just as you almost convince yourself to grab one, Sam comes up behind you. “You talk to Dean yet?”

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest, walking out of the aisle.

“What are you so afraid of? That he’ll leave? Have you seen how he is with you? There’s zero chance he does that! He’s loyal to a fault and he loves you. Yeah, he might be a little shocked or concerned. But he’ll also be so excited to take that jump with you. I know my brother, Y/N.”

You know in your heart Sam is right, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You walk outside empty-handed and lean on Baby’s hood while you wait for Sam to pay. Suddenly a wave of nausea hits you and you keel over emptying your lunch and stomach bile on the road. As you stand up, you look around taking in all the concerned and disgusted faces watching you from around the parking lot. You feel so sore and embarrassed and you can’t stop the tears from falling. Within minutes Sam’s arms are around you as he helps you into the car before moving around to the driver’s seat.

You bring your knees up to your chest on the seat and bury your head into them during the silent drive back to the motel. When you get back you rush in, walking straight past Dean and into the bathroom locking the door. You brush your teeth and then strip before sitting on the floor in the shower and bawling your eyes out for what feels like hours.

You’re not sure what Sam told Dean to stop him from barging in and holding you, but part of you is grateful. Part of you knows you’re deliberately pushing him away out of guilt. But part of you wants nothing more than to confide in him and have him hold you tight while you cry and hold your hair back while you’re sick.

After a while, you pick yourself up, wash your face and drag yourself out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. When you come out, Dean’s sitting on one bed reading something on your laptop and Sam’s on the other mirroring his actions. You cautiously make your way over to the bed where Dean’s sitting slipping under the covers, not even bothering to remove the damp towel or get dressed. You sense Dean stiffen beside you, no doubt heavily debating the right move; whether to join you under the covers and hold you or give you space. In the end, giving you space wins out and you bury your head in the blanket as you silently cry yourself to sleep, still feeling sick to your stomach.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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sunglassesmish · 1 year

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i was tagged by @castiel to show my before and after colouring for gotham knights specifically. i love this show and the misha content it’s given us so this was so fun to do! plus colouring gifs is my favourite parts of giffing so i always appreciate the chance to show the difference, even if this show is so hard to colour and takes me hours to do 😅

can’t think of anyone to tag so if you are a gifmaker and you want to try this, consider yourself tagged!

#my gifs #misha collins #gotham knights #gk spoilers #harvey dent #these are a LOT better on desktop #thank you for tagging me i love giffing misha in this show even though it's so hard #and takes me hours and hours #normally i colour to make it more realistic not colourful so mine don’t always look that different #i can’t wait for more of this show

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alexsoenomel · 1 year

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I Like Your Mind (Sam Winchester x Reader fluff, part 1)

Summary: A short story about how you started seeing Sam in a brand new light aka liking him part 1

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1096

Note: Another oldie from me. Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

After a week of being trapped in a small town, while working on a case that included killing vampires, you were just excited to be back home where you belong. That old dump of a bunker was your home and you loved every nook and cranny of it.

“I’m showering first.” You said from the back seat while Dean was driving. Sam was of course in the front seat, always taking the shotgun.

“OH HELL NO!” He said. Sammy just laughed.

“Dean, sweetie, do you remember that thing you did when you were drunk last week?” You smirked. He immediately gripped the wheel of his baby and looked at you for a split second in the rearview mirror. Oh he knew…

“What thing?” Sam asked.

“(Y/N) DON’T YOU DARE!”

“Well…” You started. “He…”

“YOU CAN SHOWER FIRST!”

You were pleased so you decided to lie.

“He got a little drunk and told me he’d like to see Castiel in his underwear….in his bed.” Well you kind of lied. He actually prayed for him to come over saying all kinds of true things such as “Oh you bootyful blue eyed angel from above.” And things like… “I’d like you to be the answer to all of my sexy prayers.” Among that was “I’d like Cas to be in my bed, in that sexy underwear…or no underwear its fine by me.” When Castiel showed up, he was confused, as always, and you decided to just laugh it off to avoid any awkward situations. Sam was sleeping at that time and never was a part of your little “drunken party.”

“Really Dean?” Sam looked at his big brother with a huge ass grin on his face. “You got a little crush on an angel.”

“Shut your pie hole Sam.” Dean said while trying to focus on the road. “In my defense I thought Cas was a chick I once dated in high school. She was angel looking and her name was Cassie.”

“ Sure Jan.” You teased.

“Oh shut up.”

The long boring drive turned out to be a going down the memory lane kind of drive. You talked about past, the good past filled with laughter and smiles and hours turned to minutes, minutes to seconds and with a blink of an eye, you were finally home.

GOOD. SHOWER. YES.

That day you took the longest most orgasmic shower in your entire life. You took the time to actually enjoy the shower and in the process you spent all hot water which Dean made slightly angry. But you decided to ignore him and finally get some motherfucking rest… while watching Criminal Minds…and eat popcorn. You got your pajamas and your favorite blanket and sat on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn.

As you turned on Netflix Sam came to the living room with his messy hair and sleep deprived face. He was wearing the same clothes as before.

“Hey there moose. ” You said as he sat next to you. Sam just gave you a bitch face and shoved some popcorn into his mouth.

“You spent all hot water (Y/N).”

“It’s not my fault all other bathrooms are out of service. Besides suck it up and wait a little bit, will ya?”

Few days ago the main pipe which was connected to other bathrooms in the bunker had cracked a little. Instead of fixing it, like you should, you guys just turned off the water in that pipe and decided to use the separate one on the other side of the bunker. You were just TOO LAZY.

“Yeah, yeah, what are you watching?”

“I’m about to watch Criminal Minds. Where’s Dean? Is he still pissed?”

“He was until he went into a deep state of coma.”

You chuckled a little looking at him. The lights were dimmed but you could still see that little sparkle in his eyes, that kindness and love which you adored about him. He looked so tired though.

“I’m sorry I wasted all hot water Sam.”

“It’s okay I love hot showers too so you’re forgiven.”

“Bless you moose.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay Sammy.”

“I’m not 12 (Y/N).”

“But it’s cute and it suits you perfectly.” You said making a sad puppy dog like face. He just rolled his eyes and looked at the screen.

“Let’s just watch the show.”

“Okay Sammy.” You teased.

Ten minutes later your bowl was empty and you were resting your head on his lap while hugging your blanket and watching your favorite genius ,named Spencer, fight the bad guys with his team. Sam actually loved the show as much as you so no one was bored.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you have a serial killer fetish as Dean calls it?” You turned your eyes away from the TV to look at him only to see his gaze looking right through you. He looked like a tired Jesus who came to answer all of your prayers from above.

“It reminds me that not all monsters are the things we hunt, and in the end of the day, human beings are capable of doing horrible things as well. Plus I do find minds of sociopaths and psychopaths to be very interesting.”

“Good point. You could have been an FBI agent just sayin.”

“Technically I am.” He smiled.

“You could have been the next Spencer Reid then.”

“I’m not that smart.”

“Yeah sure thing. You are the smartest person I have never met.” You started. “You are more than just a pretty face Sam, give yourself some credit. You are a hero and a smart one too.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He smirked.

You shyly turned towards the screen hiding the fact that you were blushing. Oh he was so pretty…

“Who doesn’t?” The episode was still rolling and you still didn’t know what was going on. Your head was in clouds and your heart was pounding like a very loud clock. WHAT IS THIS?? FEELINGS????

Your nervousness was taking over. “Besides your hair is as majestic and fabulous as Spencer’s.” You tried to get yourself out of it.

“Thank you.” You made him laugh. I MADE HIM LAUGH???

“Great now I don’t know what’s happening with this episode and it’s 1am. Thank you Sam.”

“Anytime.”

That night you went to bed at 4am, Sam didn’t take his shower and you haven’t watched Criminal Minds. Why? Because you were too busy talking to the handsome man with great hair and face aka Sam Winchester. That night you saw Sam in a brand new light which changed everything. That night you realized you wanted more than just friendship with that man….

In other words you were fucked.

PART 2 IS HERE

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queen-of-deans-booty · 6 months

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Your Next Meal: Part Two

Pairing: Castiel x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: trying to eat your family, feeling guilty and sad for what you did, comforting!cas

Summary: You come clean to your father about what you did and the hunt you went on. He hates you didn't tell him but he's your dad and will always love you no matter what species you are.

read part one here: Your Next Meal (part two requested by @gabrielslittleangel)

Square Filled: body swap (in the sense that she swaps body with a wolf) for @castielspnbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

Sam, Dean, and Castiel turn to run out of the room but you’re already trying to pounce on them. Saliva drips from your mouth at the thought of ripping into their bodies, and you bark so loud the noise echoes off the walls. All three men run for their lives straight down to the control room where they have access to shut down the entire Bunker. If you can’t have them, you might be inclined to leave the Bunker and hurt someone innocent.

Castiel uses his powers to slam the doors closed just as you ram your entire body into the door. Sam scrambles to press the lockdown button that shuts down every door, locks them, and turns the blinking red lights on.

You bark loudly and slam your body against the door yet again causing it to shake and almost splinter.

“How the hell did this happen?” Dean gasps.

“I don’t know. Y/N! Stop!”

You bang against the door again. This time, it does splinter and the wood pierces your arm. You howl out in pain and back up to give yourself a break. The door is made of metal but the outer layer is wood which is why it was able to break off and pierce you. Suddenly, the urge to kill isn’t so bad now that you have a wound to take care of. You whimper in pain and run down the hallway to somewhere isolated.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel stare at the door in fear you’re taking a break to ram the door again. However, after an hour of sitting there, they figure you must have moved on to something else. Sam turns the alarm off, allowing people to enter and exit the Bunker freely. The red lights shut off and are replaced by the dim yellow ones.

Castiel opens the door and sees a pool of blood by the door. Wolf or not, you’re still his daughter. If he sees blood, he’s immediately going to get worried for your safety. The trail of blood leads them to the infirmary where you’re sitting on the bed in your human form. Tears are streaming down your face as you’re trying to heal yourself.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob and yank a piece of wood out of your arm.

“What happened?” Sam asks in a gentle tone that makes you cry harder.

“I went on a hunt without you guys. I just wanted to prove myself. Life’s been hard without my powers and I wanted to do something good for once instead of screw it up like I always do. I wanted to prove I could still help people even if I’m not an angel. I got bit by the werewolf. I was so scared to tell you. I messed up. I’m so sorry,” you sob.

Sam and Dean give you and Castiel a moment to yourselves as father and daughter. They will discuss it later but this moment is reserved for you two. Castiel walks over to you and places his hand on your arm. He uses his angelic powers to heal you of any wounds you might have.

“I’m upset you didn’t tell us what happened and the fact that you went on a hunt by yourself, but you’re my daughter. I’m gonna love you no matter what species you are. We can and will definitely talk about this later, but what matters right now is that you’re okay.”

“Don’t hate me, please,” you cry and look up at him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come here,” he whispers. He pulls you into a hug and lets you cry into his chest. He rubs your back soothingly and smooths down your hair. “I could never hate you. I love you so much. We’ll figure this out together. Garth is a werewolf. We can talk to him and have him help you adjust.”

“Okay,” you nod and pull away from him.

“Without your mother, it’s just you and me.” He leans down and kisses your head. “Right now, that’s all you’re ever going to need. We’ll figure it out together.”

You messed up but there is a way to deal with it instead of panicking and hurting someone who doesn’t deserve it. It’s not going to be easy, but what is?

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel fic #castiel fiction #castiel fanfiction #castiel fan fiction #castiel fanfic #castiel fan fic #castiel fluff #castiel angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst

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the-moon-lullaby · 1 year

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Could you make a kiss headcanon about Castiel or Lysander like you did for Nathaniel? I love your headcanons ❤️

Kisses with Lysander - HSL

N/A : Hii ! thanks for your support darling, here's your request, I hope you like it 💕

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 :

It would often be small pecks to show his affection and appreciation at random moments

But then this would grow into a more passionate kiss

He has this habits of cupping Candy’s cheek while kissing her

He also has this way of kissing Candy so softly that it makes her shiver

The kind of kisses that feel as light as a feather and yet, that feel so intimate

It always reflects a ton of emotions because Lysander is very good at expressing himself through his actions rather than saying it out loud (he’s better with his words with paper and ink)

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 :

He likes it when Candy kisses his cheek

He finds it very sweet and even though it is a simple gesture, it shows her appreciation of him so that’s a yes

Unlike Nathaniel (as said in the 1st post of this little series), he’s not embarrassed by it

If he’s shirtless for whatever reason (but you probably guessed which one), he loves it when Candy leaves a trail of kisses across his chest

It’s a turn on for him

Of course he loves she goes for his lips (I mean it’s a classic but it’s certainly a way-to-go)

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎’𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢 :

Her hands. All the time. (I won’t argue with anyone about this)

Palm kisses <3 this is so cute

Also offering his hand whenever she’s sat and has to stand up and then proceed to kiss her knuckles (loverboyyy)

He likes to kiss her nape while he’s holding her from behind (bonus point if he was putting on her a necklace he offered her)

Basically kissing her whole body during intimate time (that includes between her legs oops)

Kissing her breast and thighs also (could spend hours on it, I rest my case)

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 :

At school, it’s their greeting (the day hasn’t begin if their lips haven’t met each other)

Lysander doesn’t care of people’s opinion (yet, that doesn’t mean he’ll make out with Candy in the hallways 'cause even if he's not shy or anything, he's a pretty private person still) so he won’t be bothered by kissing her whenever he feels like it (or get kissed by her whenever she wants too)

The school garden is their make-out spot (this or the basement. Maybe even both)

I said it in the first part, but sometime it just happens at random moments (for example when Candy do something he finds adorable or when he just feel like Candy needs a little reminder that he loves her)

There we go, I hoped you enjoyed it !

I have been logged out of my account (and I had forgot my password so this was a bit of a shit show lol) so the requests are a bit late to be posted but it’s on the way 💕

#mcl #my candy love #amour sucre #amor doce #mcl lysander #my candy love lysander #mcl headcanons #mcl hsl #mcl high school life #my candy love high school life #my candy love hsl #mcl al lysander #lysander ainsworth

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casbeeminestiel · 1 year

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‘til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours

Dean wouldn’t have called himself a faithful man. Over the years, he’s heard himself described as many things- irreverent, stubborn, codependent, righteous, temperamental, broken. But faithful? Nah, never.

Not until he married Cas, anyways.

Twelve years gone and two years on, he finds himself putting the hours into believing in someone and something bigger than he.

It’s not always easy. Of course it isn't. Nothing worth having ever is.

But sometimes, like right now, Dean finds that it is easy.

For example, it’s easy to thread his fingers through Cas’ on the drive across I-10 in Florida, warm skin on warm skin and wedding ring on wedding ring on the bench seat between them in an untangleable knot. He can feel Cas’ pulse, steady and strong where his own thumb caresses his husband’s wrist. Cas shivers and smiles, and Dean…

Dean falls in love for the millionth time.

And again in a diner parking lot a few hours later as he sucks sticky, syrupy kisses down the column of Cas’ throat in Baby’s backseat. Turns out the only thing that can rival how hot it is outside is Dean’s husband.

“Dean,” Cas groans, panting. His hair is a mess from Dean’s hands raking and tugging at the silky strands.

When Dean pulls back to answer, he feels a sharp spike of lust join the warm, sweet affection suffusing throughout his body. Cas is a damn vision in the midday sun streaming through the windows, his tan skin dappled with shadows cast by the thunderheads starting to creep overhead in a drastic vignette. He looks like a painting.

“Hot damn,” Dean rasps, leaning back in to get his lips in the hollow of Cas’ collarbone. He sweeps his thumb behind his ear and smiles to himself as Castiel’s laughter at his eagerness turns into a stuttering gasp.

Soon enough, Cas sheds his leather jacket- a new addition to his wardrobe, one that Dean is a little obsessed with- and Dean’s flannel joins it on the floor of the Impala, followed by their shoes and socks. Jeans and boxers and shirts are pushed out of the way. Hands find hands again as lips search out skin. Dean likes them like this, an ouroboros of DeanandCas.

Outside, the rain has started to fall to the earth in sheets, a true subtropical spring thunderstorm. Inside the car, they’ve lost track of time, lost sense of anything but the act of losing themselves in each other.

Thunder rattles the windows, but Dean doesn’t notice. He’s too busy making the love of his life fall apart in his arms over and over again.

It’s crazy how these things work, he thinks; how his forever home fits so perfectly inside his first home, how Cas’ legs fit around his waist, how he fits inside Cas, how their hands fit together.

How they fit together.

Their lives, their bodies, their souls. ‘Til death do them part, and after.

Afterwards, after they’ve found the energy to dress themselves once more, they lay there for a while longer and listen to the storm outside. Dean can drive in this weather, but truth be told, he’d rather listen to Cas’ heartbeat under his ear where his head is resting on his husband’s chest.

It’s alright. They have time.

Cas is quiet where Dean is curled around him. Far as Dean can tell, it’s a good kind of quiet. He’s proven right when Cas trails lazy fingers in circles over the knobs of Dean’s spine through his shirt. The static sound of rain continues outside as Dean reaches up to grasp Cas’ free hand in his own and kisses each knuckle. He doesn’t have to look at his angel to know he’s smiling.

They both do a whole lot of smiling these days.

“Dean,” murmurs Cas, the first to speak in the sacred hush of their afterglow. Dean tilts his head with no particular urgency to meet a set of eyes that still draw him in after all these years.

“Mmm, what’s up, sunshine?”

“I find that I’m hungry again. Is that normal?”

Cas’ face is scrunched up adorably, brows knit together in genuine befuddlement.

Dean can hardly help himself as he buries his face in the toned chest beneath him, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Dean, it’s- stop laughing at me. It’s a serious question!” Castiel, for all his effort to appear stern, is laughing too. Also, Dean notes that his hand has not stopped stroking over his spine. That should not make him blush after the last hour or so, but god help him, it does.

“Cas,” he says through teary eyes, still wheezing slightly, “I fucking love you.”

“And I, you. Really though, Dean. Why am I hungry?”

Dean can’t resist. He doesn’t have another round in him, but he’ll never pass up a chance to fluster his husband. In a move that was surely more graceful twenty years ago, he raises himself up on his hands where they’re now planted next to Cas’ head and leans down again so Cas can feel it when he breathes the next words into his ear.

“Sweetheart, as much as I fucking love you, I also love fucking you. Tends to make a guy work up an appetite.”

In a contrast with the heat behind his words, he plants a sweet, quick kiss on Castiel’s now burning cheek and retreats to his spot on his chest.

Cas scowls and swats Dean on the shoulder, but Dean feels his heart skip a beat when he throws a wink his way.

In a few hours, they’ll be sitting on a moonlit balcony with a warm seabreeze in their hair and fancy white hotel sheets waiting for them inside.

In a few days, they’ll probably stop at this diner again on the way back. Dean will probably order pancakes because he knows Cas likes them almost as much as he likes stealing them off of his plate. Cas will lick syrup off his fork, and Dean knows they’ll end up in the backseat again because as sure as the rain falls here every afternoon, he just can’t keep his hands off his husband.

In a few weeks, they might be on the road again, or they might be at home. Maybe Claire will visit, or maybe Jack will pop in. Maybe Sam and Eileen can come over for a backyard barbecue. If the sun shines bright over Kansas for a little while longer, maybe Cas can start his garden anew. Dean will watch him from the porch with a cold beer in his hands and fiddle with his ring, knowing Cas is doing the same when he sits back to take in his hard work.

In a few months, in a few years, Dean has no idea where the road is going to take them. They’ll laugh, and they’ll cry. They will fuck and make love and rest their weary bones next to one another. Sometimes they’ll fight, no doubt, but they made vows they intend to keep. For all the words they exchanged at the altar, Dean took one thing away two years ago. It’s the main thing, honestly. The big thing.

Later that night, under those heavenly hotel covers, the faithful man privately renews the vow he made back then as the angel snores away with his head tucked neatly away under Dean’s chin.

Wherever we go next, whatever life throws at us, I’ll have faith in your hand in mine.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

#deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #happy two years deancas #deancas anniversary #supernatural #always floridanaturaling #posting this to ao3 too #duckposting

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povcastiel · 2 years

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Holier Than Thou

[ This was mainly a blurb, hence how short it is. Anyway, this is truly a HUGE thank you to all of those who have shown so much love on my Castiel fic. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate all of you. I haven’t forgotten. I know it’s been such a long while, but here’s something to keep you fed. Part Two of I’m No Angel is in the works. ]

Synopsis | Castiel, Angel of The Lord, has led his followers, just as he’s guided you. Now that you’ve gone astray, it is his duty to bring you to the light.

Tags | Angel!Reader, Season 4 Castiel, Supernatural, Rebellion, Longing, F!Reader, Lusting, Suppressed Feelings

Warnings | Castiel being a dick, Sexual Content, Loss of Virginity, Seduction, Temptation, Angst? Feelings of Guilt

Word Count | 2.2k

Rating | R, minors do not read

Once so innocent and pure, you now had been exposed and soiled by the world of Man. Castiel had warned you of humans and their greed, their mistakes which ultimately led to their demise, time and time again. And despite his harsh guidelines and testaments to this truth, you deliberately disobeyed. The pressure of perfection, to fit into the mold that God destined. It somehow begin to feel foriegn upon your skin. Which all seemingly spurred from your unknowing affection toward your superior.

Vessels were a complicated matter for you. Not in the sense that you struggled to find one, but more so that you struggled to feel secure, to feel justified in your reasoning for using your father’s creation.

Castiel had chosen you to accompany him. It would have been your first time on Earth, and you were eager to please him, to show him how dedicated you were to God and his plan.

You’d spent the last hour marveling over life and its simplicity. The raw beauty of nature and the advancements of humankind. Their brilliance, resilience even, throughout a meaningful life, for death had granted them a purpose to survive, to make the most of what they were given.

The sun was warm upon your new face, a stranger and yet so familiar to those around you. A park full of children, families and friends.

Jimmy Novak appeared as he always had, but only you could see Castiel’s form beneath his chosen vessel. He came across the field and sat himself beside you on the bench you had discovered. It was quiet for a moment, only the sounds of children’s laughter and buzzing voices.

“Castiel…” You began, struggling to ask him. “I don’t understand.” You confessed. He said nothing, but rather looked at you. “Why does God want to destroy this?” You asked, curious. Castiel knew you to be naive and expected you to have this kind of reaction.

“There are things that cannot be undone.” He states coldly.

“But these people… These innocent people. We are just to let them die?” You questioned further, doubting the reasons for your mission.

His expression grew to be more grave. “There is a bigger picture. We may be Angel’s of The Lord, but we still are soldiers.” He reminded you sternly.

You reluctantly submitted to his authority. Forcing yourself to believe that Castiel’s direction would lead to goodness, to justice in the wake of the evil to come.

Your subservience had lifted the moment you left Heaven. You’d never felt more liberated, especially when it meant using your powers for good, to protect those you had so longed wished to. Through your enlightenment, you found Castiel to be wrong and you intended to never rejoin his Holy crusade.

Your new life had led you to a small motel located in Pennsylvania, just a few miles from Lake Eerie. It was quaint and calm, easy to blend in - not that you ever stuck around enough to cause any suspicion. You often found yourself changing scenery, discovering new places and exploring your own immorality, not shying from the rapture of human nature.

You’d returned to your room, late into the evening, after another nightly escapade. Blissfully rosy cheeks and lungs full of air, the oxygen of fulfillment. The events of the day still fresh in your mind.

Upon opening the door, you were greeted by an unexpected visitor. Sat upon your bed, rigid in his posture, but ever so graceful in the way he turned to you. His raven hair is disheveled, donning the same trench coat and suit. You swallowed thickly. You would have been a fool to never think he’d seek you out, or find you for that matter, but it had come quicker than you prepared for. You had covered your tracks so carefully.

Slowly, you shut the door behind you. The sensation of guilt threatened to wash over you, and his striking blue gaze only encouraged those waves.

He rises. “Hello, y/n.” He addresses you in a monotone way, his expression so typically impassive.

“If you’re here to condemn me and bring me back into the light, you’ve wasted your time.” You begin, straight to the point.

Castiel is patient in his demeanor, he almost looks as if he may smile. As if your fast rejection has brought him amusement, and that suddenly angers you.

“As if you even have a choice in the matter…” He responds. Eyes boring into you, and you feel he may be able to see every sin you’ve ever committed.

“You don’t belong here.” He affirms.

Your teeth come together, clamping in a bid to suppress your frustration.

Your feet move, at their own volition, unafraid of him and his divinity. Your faces are inches apart and he doesn’t waver from his strong stance.

“I don’t serve Heaven and I certainly don’t serve you.” Your words are cutting, quiet and yet entirely commanding. For the first time in his presence, you feel confident and certain of yourself.

“You are lost.” He retorts. “You cannot be allowed to continue in your rebellion.”

“I saw it in your eyes before.” He continues. “I was in denial, but I know now that I have failed you.” He speaks gruffly, sincerely and yet it still feels so disheartened. For the ordeal was just another order for him to obey.

You’d known before this day, but sure of it now, that he was the object of your desire. Now before you in the flesh of man, his presence was so much more real.

Castiel studied the pages of his book, brows knitted in concentration, but he sensed and felt your lingering gaze. “You’re distracted.” He mutters, not even looking up at you.

“No.” You deny, as you quickly avert your eyes and back to your own book. Ancient pages, full of Latin and untold history. You’re bored.

“I just think… we could-“ He knows your suggestion before it leaves your lips.

“We are here to do as we have been commanded.” He reprimands you, with the intention to curb your temptation of the human world. “Castiel…” You trail off. “What?” Now he looks at you and it’s worthy of bringing you to your knees. To surrender in awe of him. You’re unable to admit your faults, to express your desire. Nor can you bring yourself to confess your yearning. The burning curiosity, from the taste of his lips, to the touch of his hands. Your desperation to feel mortal, and all the emotions of the people you had come to witness in such a short time.

“Nothing.” You whispered.

“Do you even hear yourself?!” You exclaimed. “You’re so blind to the hypocrisy. It’s all a lie, Castiel. You know it.”

“We serve Heaven, not man.” He corrects you.

His words, his lack of insight, or perhaps it’s ignorance, is enough to drive you over the edge. Your hand flys up, nearly to strike him across the face, but he captures your wrist in a vice grip.

His lips pressed together, his expression is almost menacing. You don’t cower, instead you’re using all your strength to shove him. His back making contact with the wall beside the television stand. The force of it rattles the cheap painting on the wall, hiding damaged, outdated wallpaper.

“I wanted to be just like you.” You reveal to him sharply through your teeth.

His grip on you loosens. Something inside of him is stirring. You find his tie, winding it around your palm, you pull him in.

“I wanted you.” You whisper, touching the side of his face. Caressing the skin, feeling the stubble of hair and the way his jaw tightens beneath your fingers.

Your confession blows his eyes wider, and before he’s able to process the weight of it, you’re smashing your lips to his in a bruising kiss.

He sucks in a breath through his nostrils, frozen in place. His hands taking hold of your arms. He forces you back.

“Y/n…” There’s something different in the way he says it, the emotion behind his eyes is new and welcomed by you.

“Castiel…” You step closer again. “Surrender to it…” You hush against his lips. “We can’t…” He tries, but to no avail. You kiss him and he melts. You push his coat over his shoulders. He’s shaking it out of it, forgetting his strength when he grabs you and stumbles forward with you in his arms.

Left in his dress shirt, he seems apprehensive. He is clueless, but eager. Undoing his tie, you discard it, before promptly tearing open his shirt. Buttons falling to the floor dramatically. Turning him toward the bed, you shove him back hastily and straddle him.

He accepts your kiss this time, as his hands wander over your exposed skin. Thanks to your daring dress, which offers little decency.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, taking a fist full. You pull his head back, enough to expose his throat. He emits a moan at your lips exploring his skin. Your teeth nip at his willing flesh, which sends a shiver rolling down his spine.

Your dress comes off in one fluid motion and Castiel finds himself speechless at the sight of you. Bare before him, the epitome of any man’s desires and now you had seduced an Angel. An omnipotent being, now succumbed to your own ethereal beauty.

You find it so endearing how his eyes still remain on your face.

“Castiel… touch me.” You practically beg of him.

He’s hesitant until he finally discovers the smoothness of your lithe body. He finds himself unable to stop, as he attempts to touch every inch. Tracing, committing it all to memory against his fingertips.

Leaning forward, you lay against his exposed chest. Castiel rolls over, finding himself on top of you. Your legs secure themselves around his hips. His torn shirt is the next thing to go.

You both are starved, stripping each other to nothing. Tasting and touching. All of it was new to him and you wanted to enlighten him to your experiences, to the pleasure you had come to know.

“I’m surely damned to Hell for this.” He breathes out, his voice low in his chest.

Despite his hunger for you, Castiel remains troubled and torn. You attempt to soothe his fears in yet another searing kiss, holding him so close, as you fear he may disappear at any moment. That all of this would become some fantasy within your head.

You pin the Angel beneath you once more and it’s a sight behold. A beacon of authority, rendered completely amendable. You finally position yourself, unable to withhold any sort of patience.

“Then I’m following you all the way…” You respond, while sinking down onto his hardened length. It stretches you deliciously, your expectations are not to be disappointed.

Castiel’s head falls back against the comforter and he elicits the most sinful moan. Never had he felt anything more wonderful than that.

He finds the will to open his eyes again and there you are above him. And maybe it’s the lust clouding his mind, but he deified you as a goddess. The only God he could willingly kneel to. Your hips move so delectably, that it leaves his mind blank. Any and all doubt erased from his memory. Perhaps you’re the devil in disguise. Either way, he submits to the pleasure you provide him.

“Oh, Castiel…” You release your own noises. His name sounds so spiritual on your tongue. A sound he never knew to be his weakness.

Your hands plant themselves upon his chest, pressing into his skin. His Grace fighting for dominance against yours.

He reaches up, fingers delving into your strands. Taking the back of your head, he pulls you down and brings your lips to meet his. The kiss is hungry, unrelenting as he never wishes for it to end.

You gasp softly, when he sits up with ease. Nearly falling back, but he secures you in his arms. His warmth leaves butterflies to spread in your stomach, as you hold onto him. Still seated in his lap, you continue to fuck him for all it was worth.

Chasing the high you desperately needed, as Castiel’s lips traveled across your chest and up your neck. You tilt your head back, granting him access. Both of your hands find purchase in his dark locks. He pulls your frame closer, back arching into him.

It builds and builds, his eyes already rolling back before he can warn you, before he can comprehend the feeling. His hold on you is crushing, as you fold into him with your hips mindlessly rolling into him. Coming undone, your walls fluttering around him, he loses control of himself and his Grace. So much so, that the light on the nightstand pops and shatters.

You’re left in your darkness, surrounded by the sound of your breathless panting. You don’t dare release him and he’s struggling to do the same.

Slowly, gently you bring yourself to face him. Your forehead brushing his. Overcome with emotion, you’re nearly on the brink of tears.

“Castiel, I’m so-“ The apology ceases at the touch of his index to your lips. He pulls your lower lip down, still within a daze.

His eyes find yours, full of adornment and fixation.

“Show me…” He swallows, focus returning to your swollen lips, “Again.”

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