#castiel fucked up yeah ok

[fangpie]

i just started season 7 and i can already pretty much tell this is gonna be one of my least favorite seasons, the brothers and bobby fucked up with cas so bad. huge fuckin hypocrites considering they would end the world for each other and then castiel was trying to save it for THEM pretty much solely with them in mind. i wanted to shank them cuz where the fuck have they been ? punishing castiel for shit you would do in a heart beat for one single man, dean ? deserved their asses beat i do not care.

[howldean]

sorry, i don’t know the phrase for “they told us to bug misha by text and i won a castiel photo op out of that” in english. would you like me to try exploding from love instead.

[beskad]

So, I've been out of the fandom for a long time, I stopped watching around...season 7? But I don't think it's an unpopular opinion that supernatural should have stuck with an early 2000s vibe - library computers and microfiche for local research, flip phones with extendable antennas, sketchy roadside motels, that delicious visual Texture of being shot on film and not digital... They should have hit Pause on time and kept those ✨vibes✨ even if it had meant suspending disbelief and letting the show continue in a vague almost-present-day in an eternal 2005. The show's premise just doesn't work once you have iPhones with 4g data speeds in even the most backwater American towns.

I'm sure this has all been said before. But I, in a new wave of ✨Mental Illness✨ haha spontaneously put on season 1 episode 1 and I am absolutely floored by the visuals, the writing, and the impeccable creepy vibes. I'm just sad that it got so absolutely stupid in later seasons 😭

[hollybell51]

Don't bet on it

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 

You smiled. “Lemonade.” 

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 

“It is.” 

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 

“No, we’ve got two singles.” 

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 

“I know, but–” 

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 

“What’s that supposed to–” 

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 

“Would you like some help?” 

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 

“Should I keep going?” 

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 

He looked up, frowning. “What?” 

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 

You nodded. “Are you?”  

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?” 

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 

He nodded. 

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he murmured. 

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 

He stared. “Do you want to?” 

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?” 

“Mhm.”  

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 

“Mhm?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright?” 

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 

You smiled. “Magic word?” 

“Please,” he practically growled. 

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Mhm.” 

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 

“Mhm.” 

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 

“I want you to feel–” 

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 

“But I’m–” 

“Cas.” 

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 

Cas froze immediately. 

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 

“Is this not–” 

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 

“I don’t want to squash you.” 

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 

He swallowed, his eyes dark. 

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 

“Hm?” 

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 

After a moment, he nodded. 

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.�� 

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 

“Hello.” 

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 

He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 

“What do you want?” you growled. 

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 

“No? Who else?” 

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 

“No, I mean–” 

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 

Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 

“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

[via-l0ve]

Here's another thing on SPN. It's a little dirty, so I hope it's ok. It doesn’t matter how, but the guys find a vibrator from the reader. Go for it. 👁️👁️

Vibe (SPN Pref!) 🩷

a/n: FERAL. I LOVE YOUR REQUESTS

warnings: mentioned female anatomy, smutty, sex toys, edging, masturbation, etc. overall NSFW!!!! do not read if that makes you uncomfortable!!! any hate will be deleted and i will hate you

Dean:

dean snoops through your things a lot

when he was snooping and found a vibrator he was immediately turned on

he put it in his pocket and took it with him to show you.

“look at what i found! pretty thing.”

so anyways

it eventually leads to him having you masturbate with the vibe, sitting in front of him while he jerks off

he’s sitting there praising the fuck outta you

“such a pretty pussy.. fuuuck y/n..”

“look at you, throbbing around nothing. thinking about my cock, huh?”

after you both cum he eats you out <3

—

Sam:

sam is flabbergasted

but also like so turned on

he has lots of ideas

eventually he decides to ignore your advances all day, making sure you’re all worked up.

he gets you to ride his thigh, pulling out your vibe and pressing it right against your clit while you rock back and forth on him

or he’ll slip it inside of you and have you rocking back and forth on him

“so needy for me baby.. you like this huh?”

buys you more

—

Castiel:

cas puts two and two together pretty quick and realizes what this weird vibrating machine is

he talks to you about it and asks if you’d be open to using it together

he has you handcuffed to the bedpost with him on his knees stroking his cock and edging you with the vibe

he’s pushing his dick inside so you can just about feel it and then he pulls back out until you’re basically fucking yourself on him

“what a pretty girl for me. good girl..”

makes you cum multiple times without stopping

“cum for me one more time yeah? oh, i know, darling, i know.”

—

Crowley:

crowley is immediately stripping you and fucking you raw

he’s eating out your pussy and pressing the vibe into your nipples and pumping it in and out of your hole

you’re a moaning mess and he decided to fucking RAIL you while pressing the vibe up against you again.

“goddamn… tightening around me already? gonna cum for me, y/n?”

it eventually turns into you riding him and rubbing the vibe against your pussy

“my pretty girl, huh? taking what she wants? fuuuck yes, darling.”

[thepagemistress]

This post from @blanketforcas got the brainworms going but I didn't want to hijack the post so here's a little thing:

Castiel was woken by an overwhelming feeling of distress, of yearning.

For the briefest moment, he thought he was back in Purgatory. Listening to Dean's desperate prayers, wanting nothing more than to reunite with him but knowing it wasn't safe. He couldn't give in.

But no, this wasn't Purgatory. It was most definitely the bunker, and the warmth plastered along his bare back, the arms wrapped around his chest were most definitely Dean's.

Before Castiel could say anything, a mutter sounded from behind him.

"Sorry."

"Dean-"

The arms tightened their grip, Dean's forehead pressing in between Castiel's shoulder blades.

"'m sorry," he said again, louder this time and all the shakier for it.

Fully awake now, Castiel managed to shuffle his way onto his other side, never quite shaking Dean's grip, until they were facing each other. "What's wrong?"

Eye contact was in short supply as Dean sucked in a breath. "Happens sometimes. Kinda thought it would stop once I got my shit together-"

"We got our shit together," Castiel corrected, earning an amused huff.

"But guess that was too much to hope for, huh. I mean, I got everything I could possibly want, right? So why the hell do I feel like if I don't like crawl inside you, I'm gonna fucking combust?"

It's said in such a rush, it took a moment for Castiel to even parse the words. "I know what you mean."

Dean scoffed and it was wetter than Castiel liked. "Sure."

"No, Dean, you misunderstand," Castiel said, finally earning eye contact. "I know what you mean."

Dean stared at him, into him, waiting for him to find the right words.

"When I rescued you from hell, we were both in our purest forms. Your body was still in the ground and I had yet to procure a vessel. It was just your soul and my grace, completely entwined. Perhaps...perhaps part of your soul craves a return of that feeling. Just as my grace does."

The awe in Dean's eyes was like divine revelation. "Huh. You really do know what I mean." It was teasing, but his relief was palpable.

"I'm sorry I never made the connection before..." he started but Dean shook his head, sniffing as he curled in tighter, tucking his head under Castiel's chin.

"'s ok. I know now. It helps." They lay in silence for a few moments before Dean spoke up again. "Could we..." Castiel sucked in a surprised breath, realising what Dean was about to ask. Pulling back again, Dean's sharp eyes darted across Castiel's face before asking again. "Could we?"

With a not inconsiderable amount of effort, Castiel managed to swallow down the frantic desire to claw his way to Dean's soul there and then. "Not tonight," Castiel uttered, voice gruff and eyes wild. Things that clearly didn't escape Dean's attention since Castiel didn't pick up on any feelings of rejection from the other man.

"That's not a no," Dean said.

"Definitely not a no," Castiel confirmed, earning an amused smile. "I just...need to make sure I know I'm not going to do any damage. I need to have control. Certainly more than I would have right now."

Dean's amused smile turned into a smug smirk. "Yeah? Gets you all hot and bothered, huh?"

"Dean, holding your soul within my grace has been the single greatest privilege bestowed upon me and I have wanted nothing more than to feel it again."

"Oh," Dean breathed, sobering immediately.

"The fact that it's possible your soul might feel the same way is...overwhelming, to say the least. I need some time. Will you give me that?"

"Yeah, course. Course, Cas. However long you need." Castiel kissed Dean on the forehead, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he felt the man slip back into unconsciousness. "Worth the wait," he mumbled, just before sleep claimed him.

"I know what you mean," Castiel whispered.

[petew21-blog]

Angel in disguise

Misha P.O.V.

The series was coming to an end and we still couldn't believe that all of this won't happen again. Not Jensen, not Jared. I actually wanted the series to go out with a BAM. And it basically did, but me and Jensen spoke about making Dean and Castiel a couple to make the fans happy. Unfortunately in hasn't been approved. Actually they even cut some of our scenes we had together, That made me and Jensen a bit sad, but we promised each other to meet up regularly.

You might ask why, because we didn't make the same deal with Jared. Me and Jensen became some sort of a couple on set. We both had our lives at home, but when we were here, we were like... Dean and Castiel. Yeah you could say that. When we were alone together we actually called each other by our role names, which made it even hotter.

We met up in some old motel by the road. Jared got us a champagne, some candles and set up a very romantic music. We embraced each other, Jensen tore off my clothes. I didn't have to. He was already naked and ready for action. A very hot night followed just as usual. But this time felt different

I was awoken by some noise outside. I opened my eyes grogily and grabbed my shirt from the ground to put it on. I went into the bathroom to take a leak. No, not even at this moment nothing seemed weird to me. But washing hands, Jensen's hands woke me up. I was schocked and screamed a bit.

"Holy shit. I am you!" I pulled up my shirt to observe Jensen's beautiful abs I lovingly kissed just last night.

Then I heard the bed move. I turned around to see my confused face looking at me.

"Who are you?"

"Who would you think, love. Maybe look in the mirror and you'll understand."

Jensen reacted pretty similarly as I did but then we both calmed down.

"We have to find out what is happening and how to handle this situation." I said worryingly

"Hey... How about we let that go for now? We got just a few days alone for the two of us. It might not be the best way to spend our time, just worrying all the time, Misha."

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but we swapped bodies and we have no idea how to reverse this."

"Would it be that bad if we didn't? I mean. I still like you and we are still both attracted to each other. So why not use this for our benefit and just fuck our original bodies? Who can say they have ever done that, huh?"

I had to give it to him. He had an excelent point.

"Ok, maybe some free time won't hurt. Now come here, my CASTIEL"

Another inbox story: Could you maybe do a swap between Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles?

[jackexmachina]

spn + text posts

image description: clips from “Sin City,” “After School Special,” “The Rapture,” “The Great Escapist,” “About A Boy,” “Our Little World,” “Lost and Found,” “Various & Sundry Villains,” “Unfinished Business,” and “Proverbs 17:3” paired with tumblr text posts

13x01: Jack is across from Sam in the holding cell of a police station, and he moves to sit cross-legged on a bench. His brow is furrowed and he looks concerned, then he looks up at Sam saying, “Will you tell them that I’m sorry?” text post from jame7t reads [sorry for being lovable and cute & sweet. AND adorable.]

15x05: Sam picks up his cell phone from a table in the bunker, it shows several unanswered texts to Cass which read “Hey Cass checking in.” “How are you doing? Everything ok?” “Cass call me we need to talk.” “Didn’t realize you were taking off.” “Service sucks in the bunker, want to make sure you’re getting these?” “Call me when you can.” “Want to make sure you’re ok?” text post from papayajuan2019 reads [people who dont double text are in such mental prisons. i will text seven times if it requires it]

13x12: Dean stands in front of Sam in the bunker, he makes a sweeping motion with his hand saying, “It is gorgeous outside.” Sam puts a hand on his shoulder, telling him to stop as he turns away, but then Dean punches him and knocks him out. Dean winces as he watches Sam fall to the floor. text post from fungalfaggot reads [oh you’re touch starved? here eat up *fucking punches you*]

4x13: young!Sam in a flashback turns in his chair to glare at a school bully, saying, “Yeah, sure.” text post from evilvillain123456789 reads [fifth grader’s report card with straight As and at the bottom the teacher wrote “extremely violent and dangerous young man”]

11x06: Several moving close-up shots of Castiel standing at the door leading outside the bunker, he is suffering from PTSD flashbacks. He looks haggard and disoriented. text post from elytrians reads [“you look tired” well the torment is relentless and the horrors never cease]

4x20: Sam moves away from a demon and the lower half of his face is covered with demon blood, his teeth are bared and his eyes look animalistic. He turns around to stand up and sees Dean and Castiel in Claire’s vessel watching him, disturbed. His face falls, caught. text post from dogmotif reads [haha hey i love the blood dripping from your face and the animal rage in your eyes whats your pronouns]

13x20: Gabriel watches Sam, calculating, but then he turns to look at Dean. Dean rolls his eyes, shrugging in acquiescence. text post from annabelle--cane reads [it’s rotten work. especially to me especially if it’s you. I’ll fucking do it but christ alive.]

8x21: Sam stands in front of Dean in a hallway, slightly delirious and telling Dean about a memory from when he was very young. He says he was thinking, “I could never go on a quest like that.” He is almost smiling as he finishes speaking. text post from soulmvtes reads [trying to outgrow the deep shame and embarrassment woven into my existence wbu]

10x12: age-regressed Dean stands in front of Sam outside a witch’s lair, saying, “First time you ever had to say that, huh?” and grinning. Sam glares at him, bending down a little to respond, “Big talk coming from the dude wearing underoos.” text post from monelyslave-noscopekween600thou reads [I’m at the doctor office and this baby keeps yelling “I want donow” (mcdonalds) and the big brother (I assume) said “all the mcdonalds burnt down, there’s no more mcdonalds”]

3x04: Sam stands at the door to an office he’s just broken into, telling them, “Have a nice day?” He tries to smile but then quickly leaves, cringing painfully as he walks away. text post from kristina100000 reads [we should all be 6′5 with 250lbs of muscle mass with a heart of a darling]

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hi! I was wondering if you could recommend some post-canon fics where Dean and Cas fix up a house together and basically live happily ever after? Thank you!

Hello! Yes, here are a few we've enjoyed!

A Second Grace by sometimeswelose [Mature, 26k words] (Cas is in the Empty for most of the fic, so they don't necessarily fix the house "together" but Cas eventually joins Dean and they get their happily ever after)

Cas dies and Dean starts referring to himself as a widower. This is somewhat confusing for everyone involved.

Best To See These True Colours (Than To Follow One Of Your False Virtues) by ImYourHoneyBee [Explicit, 34k words]

Two months after Team Free Will beats Chuck, Jack brings Cas back and Dean wants so badly to respond to Cas's confession in the dungeon, but to do that he needs to shed a lifetime of trauma, self hatred, and internalized homophobia. After moving in to a farmhouse with Cas, Dean secretly starts going to therapy every Thursday afternoon. He also starts working on getting the tattoos he always wanted in an effort to reclaim a body that he's only ever seen as a tool. or Cas stole Dean's favorite Zeppelin shirt, Dean steals it back, Cas steals it again. A shirt-theft war like nothing you've ever seen ensues. The entire family takes sides. Is it foreplay? Yes. Is it good clean family fun? Sometimes. Are Jack's god powers used unwisely in the name of the Zepp shirt battle? Yeah, probably. Is Dean messier than a sloppy joe? Nooooo, not at all.

Fenario by ftmsteverogers [Explicit, 47k words]

“We did good, Dean,” Sam says. “We got him back.” Dean huffs a hollow laugh, because yeah, that’s always what it’s about, isn’t it? Cas or Sam or Dean getting themselves lost or dead, and then taking turns dragging each other back from the brink. He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “We got him back, yeah,” he says. Sam nods, watching him. “So now what?”

Kriah by ioascc [Explicit, 54k words]

Dean can do this. He can. He can raise Jack Kline, Lucifer’s baby. No, not Lucifer’s… Cas’ kid. Their kid. With his mother gone, and Castiel dead, Dean finds himself hanging on by a thread. Castiel has died so many times on him, Dean is half-convinced himself that Cas will return to him. Dean evades the pain of the truth, carrying on in false hope until his soul renders into a million pieces. He learns quickly that taking care of a newborn is not for the faint of heart, sleep-deprivation, grief, and feedings rule most of the early days. During this time, Dean is forced to build a new life for himself. With a new name and identity change, Dean becomes a Dad. Something Castiel would be proud of. Dean cooks, he cleans, he reads, he sings his ABCs and 123s, and ultimately Dean does his best for Jack. It’s not until Jack grows into a small child that Dean feels like he can breathe again. The grief no longer suffocates him. His new life has meaning. He sees family and he allows himself to miss Castiel. To mourn him, to love him in death. And when Jack goes to school, Dean is once again reunited with friends and enemies from his past.

Talk Some Sense To Me (Kenopsia) by ImYourHoneyBee [Explicit, 244k words]

Scrambling to his knees Castiel hugs back, burying his face in Dean’s neck, breath coming in fast little pants against his skin. Dean closes his eyes and just breathes him in, barely able to believe that this is real. At any other time in his life, closing his eyes against a threat like Death would be an inexcusable lapse in his hunter’s judgement. Right now, he doesn’t give a single fuck. Death can reap him for all he cares, he’ll die knowing Cas is going to be ok. Alive. “I will see you soon, Dean,” Death tells him, that deliberate voice of his soft enough not to intrude on the intimacy of the moment, “Raincheck on that grilled cheese.” “Thank you,” Dean croaks, propping his chin up on Cas’s shoulder, unmindful of the tears trickling down his cheeks, “Thank you.”

take the bones, begin anew by JustStandingHere [Mature, 103k words]

“What else was I supposed to say, Sam?” Dean asks him. “I’m not...look, Cas is my best friend, and I care about him. That’s it.” “And you renovated a house for him,” Sam continues. “And live with him.” or: a year in the life, in which it takes some time, but they figure it out

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden [Explicit, 95k words] (it was written before s15, so it's not canonical, but it does feature post-canon and dean and cas fixing up a house!)

Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together.

There's Only One Sure Thing That I Know by blinkiesays [Explicit, 20k words ] (it's not post-canon but they get a house together)

Dean doesn't even get halfway through explaining before Bobby starts laughing. When he lets himself think about it for more than five seconds, Dean can almost see Bobby's point: he's faced down demons, witches, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, angels, and Satan himself and now he's been defeated by the God damn Midwest.

[castielmydarling]

Suptober 2023-Day 4: Nimbus

I Can See You-850 words on AO3 or below. Summary: Dean is hit with a spell to see what's in front of him

“Dean!” Cas shouts running to where Dean has collapsed. 

Sam approaches the witch, gun drawn. “What did you do?” he yells. 

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” she pleads. “He’s fine. It’s just a simple spell so he can see what’s in front of him, so he can see that I’m good, I’m not a threat. Not all witches are evil. You know that better than anyone.” She cautiously gestures at Sam. “I can see the magic coming off you. I tried telling him it wasn’t me but he wouldn’t listen!” She says angry. “So, I did the only thing I could think of to show him I wasn’t evil. I’m not lying. I didn't kill those people!” She yells frustrated. Fucking hunters.

Cas helps Dean up. “Are you ok?” He asks, worried. 

Dean rubs his head. “Yeah no thanks to this bitch.” He says. When he looks at her he sees it. A shimmering light surrounds her, almost like she’s walking through fairy dust. A quick glance at Sam reveals the same, not as much or as bright as her, but it's there. 

“Well?” Sam lowers his weapon a degree but he’s ready to take the shot at Dean’s word. 

“Yeah, yeah. Your auras match. She’s telling the truth.” He grunts. 

The witch breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s not actually our auras you’re seeing…” she starts before Dean cuts her off. 

“I don’t give a fuck what it is!” he yells exasperated. “Sam, get her out of here. Find out what she knows.”

Sam puts his gun away. “So what is he seeing?” he asks as he walks her away. Dean might not care but he’s interested in what kind of energy he’s giving off. 

Cas is still holding on to Dean worried. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just feel a little sore. Her so-called simple spell really knocked me out.” He looks at Cas for the first time since being hit, he takes a step back. “Woah.” 

Beautiful white light shimmers and glows around Castiel. A halo of intensely bright light is concentrated above him. It almost hurts to look at him but Dean doesn't want to look away. Like a moth to a flame he reaches out to touch, afraid and excited at the same time. 

“Dean?”

“Do you always look like this?” He says in awe. 

Cas looks down at the same outfit he’s worn pretty much the entire time he’s known Dean. “Since I first took Jimmy Novak as a vessel, yes. There have been a few wardrobe changes, this coat is not the original nor is the tie. And I suppose this body shows typical signs of aging due to my inconsistent levels of grace.”

Dean laughs. “No. I mean the light that’s around you.” He says, mesmerized. “Your halo, it’s…it’s so beautiful.” He finally reaches up to touch it. He can see his hand go through it but he can’t feel anything. 

Cas rolls his eyes. The spell. He remembers now what the witch said. Show him what’s right in front of him. 

“Yes, Dean, I always look like this. And it’s not a halo. You must be seeing some residual side effects of my true form contained in a vessel on this plane. The spell must be bringing it to light, so to speak. It's temporary, I assure you.”

“But I like it.” Dean pouts. He waves his hand through the halo again. “Can you feel that?”

Cas laughs. “ No. I wasn’t even aware this was happening. It’s just particles, like fairy dust. It’s not a part of me.”

“I don’t know” Dean can’t stop touching the halo even though he can’t actually feel anything. “This halo seems pretty Angel-like to me. A ring around an angel's head? That’s a halo.” He takes a step back to look at Cas and the area around him. 

“Now what?” Cas asks amused. 

“I’m looking for your harp.” He steps closer to lift up the trench coat. 

“Dean, for the last time I don’t have a harp.” He says laughing. “I do not know how to play any musical instrument.”

“I don’t know, you keep insisting your halo isn’t a halo so I thought you might be lying about the harp.” He teases. 

He brings Cas in, kissing him deeply. His eyes are closed but he can see the light getting brighter. The kiss even feels different. 

“How long do you think the spell will last?” He says breathless. 

“I don’t know.” Cas replies. “While she said it was a simple spell it must be pretty powerful if you can see my essence. I would say at least a day. Why?”

“Good. Let’s get back to our room. I want to see what else you’re hiding underneath all these layers.” He says grabbing the coat and suit jacket. Not even getting to the dress shirt or undershirt Cas is wearing. He really does wear too many clothes for his own good. He pulls Cas along toward the Impala, forever grateful they now book two rooms when they hunt. 

“Seriously, Dean. There is no harp.”

[crstormzy]

castiel headcannons | my candy love

ok so i have this really annoying habit of inviting fictional characters to live in my head rent free for god knows how long. specially when they are assholes. specially when they're the type of assholes i'm really fond of. specially when they're castiel veilmont.

i also have the even more annoying habit of making extremes out of these characters in my head, but oh well... it be like that sometimes.

anyways, it's 3am where i live and i cannot sleep so here's some of the extremes i've taken castiel to during the last few years i've been obsessed with him:

so, first things first, my man is a genius. i'm not talking the einstein kinda genius, but more of a mozart or michelangelo or something like that. he likes art and he understands it and he is so good at it. like, otherworldly good.

he has an awesome vocal range, but he can rock the higher register. and he can also rock the growls so that makes for an interesting combination.

i don't care what others say, i just know castiel can cook. and i'm not talking instant noodles or frozen pizza either, i'm telling you my man can cook. call it perks of living almost alone from a young age, but he is a really great chef (and a really great lover, so be ready for a lot of breakfast treats if you're dating him).

although he is a singer (and a pretty good one at that), castiel just loves bad karaoke nights. like, all out awful singing: out of rhythm, out of breath, out of tune. he's paid to be a good singer all other nights of the year, so he definitely seizes the opportunity to just be a shitty one for a while.

songwriter is coded into his dna. like, waking in the middle of the night, genius ideas, music out of everything type of songwriter. dude writes like he's running out of time.

his lyrics are so deep, always with beautiful metaphors and the kind of thing that just guts you every. fucking. time.

or they're just vulgar nonsense. there's literally no in between.

can sleep anywhere. tour bus? yeah, sleeping. library table? long gone. the most uncomfortable chair in existence? catch him going. his bed, though? forget it. after midnight his brain simply starts running a mile a minute.

not. a. morning. person.

no, seriously. he hates mornings with a passion, specially during hsl. probably because he's always going to sleep horribly late, but he hates having to wake early for anything at all. the only exception is if he's really really really excited about something.

he can hold his liquor, but he hardly ever drinks enough for it to be necessary because he doesn't like the idea of losing control of himself.

stopped smoking somewhere after high school. he was never really dependant on nicotine and after a while (specially after crowstorm) he just stopped altogether. the sensation was nice and all, but kinda of not worth it anymore.

was bullied into becoming crowstorm's vocalist.

also hates instagram with a passion. shows up once every three months, posts a single story (after his manager grilled him for weeks to make any appearance at all) and promptly vanishes again.

would get rid of his phone if he could but, since he can't, he just isn't much of a user.

castiel please stop telling paparazzi to fuck off please for the love of god the press team is begging you stop trying to rip their cameras out of their hands please please

can be very polite and well mannered when he wants to (but he never does)

my boy is a charmer. like, literally everyone falls for him. and then he opens his mouth and just manages to be the biggest asshole ever.

(he claims it's also part of his charm)

lots of people speculate about how many plastic surgeries he's had. partly because he's very pretty, but mainly because of the nose and the eyes. no one believes his nose wasn't bought, and lots of people think he wears contacts.

(in truth he is terrified of plastic surgery, but, ironically, if he wasn't his nose would probably be top of the list of things he would wanna change)

anyways i could spend literal days talking with how much time i've spent with him inside this silly little brain of mine. these are some of the headcannons i could think of on spot but god knows i have so many more...

[fandomtherapy44]

castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Sam and Dean. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since they are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 5,820

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural

Chapter 8: Death take's a holiday

POV: Y/n

I am properly on my sixth cup of coffee at this point because I was so tired from staying up all night thinking about all the bullshit tremoli I've had to deal with. Also, I can sip it and not have to talk to Sam and Dean unless I had to. The last few weeks have been tedious with the three of us tip toeing around the fucked-up things we said when we were under the siren’s spell even though it was the truth at the moment to us. Sam was on the phone to Bobby talking about an interesting case he had found, and Dean was banging at the jukebox to get it to work, and I was trying not to explode with all the emotions I had running through my body. “No, no, no, you're right, it's definitely weird. ...Okay, Bobby, thanks.” Sam said, hanging up the phone. “What's up?” Dean sat down. “Bobby found something in Wyoming.” “A job?” I questioned. “Maybe” he responded. “Small town, no one's died in the past week and a half.” “Ok and is that not a normal good thing.” I questioned. “Well, it's how they're not dying.” 

 “One guy with terminal cancer strolls right out of hospice. Another guy gets capped by a mugger and walks away without a scratch.” “Capped in the ass?” Dean questioned and I chuckled under my breath at that one. “Police say Mr. Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a nine-millimeter.” “Alright that one no way someone is walking away it looks like we got a case.” I said as it seems like I spoke to them for the first time today. “It's got to be something nasty, right? I mean, people making deals or something.” Sam said to us. And he wasn't wrong it looked like this had demon’s fingerprints all over it. The boys get up to leave as I stay sitting. “Y/n come on” Sam said to me. “You sure you guys want me to go with you. I mean you might have to save me and that is just pathetic right?” I said sipping my coffee and not looking up from my cup. “Y/n/n we said we're sorry okay I thought we were past this.” Dean responded looking sorry for a second. I finished my cup and got up not bothering to look at them. “Yeah, we're past it.” I said as I walked past them.

We were now at the man’s house who was shot straight in the chest and is now walking around like nothing had touched him. “Now you three said you were bloggers?” He asked us. “Yes, sir. Floored by the Lord dot com.” I answered. “All of God's glory fit to blog.” Sam and I both look at Dean like really. “Um. Some of the people around town are saying what happened to you was a miracle.” I said to him. “It was. Plain as day.” “How can you be so sure?” “How else do you explain it? The doctors can't. There's a bullet in my heart, and it's pumping like a piston.” It does sound like a miracle but sadly with this life it never really is. “Well, how do you explain it?” Dean asked. Jim looks over to his daughter who was coloring at the other table and smiles. “Look, honestly. I was nobody's saint—not exactly father of the year, either.” “Okay”

“But when that guy shot me, and I didn't bleed a drop? I just knew the Lord was giving me a second chance.” Right the Lord. "That so?” “I had this feeling—like angels were watching over me.” Huh okay now that's something we can work with. “I wouldn't expect you guys to understand.” “Trust us Jim we understand.” Especially if an Angel is becoming my best friend. “You wouldn't have happened to have swung by a crossroads in the past week or so?” Sam asked getting info if this was a Demon thing. “No” Jim said back confused. “Maybe you met someone? With black eyes? Or red?” Should have stopped at the first question. “Who'd you guys say you were again?” The three of us look at each other. “Never mind. Thank you for your time.” I said getting up to leave. 

Dean was reading something on the computer while I was getting coffee … again. “Hey” Sam said entering the room. “Hey you find anything else?” I asked him. “That cancer survivor? He was clinically dead, his wife pulled the plug, and now he's taking her out for their twentieth anniversary.” The more I hear about people living their lives I want to leave this phenomenon alone. “Any sign of a deal?” Dean asked. “No. What about you? Found anyone dying around here?” “Not since Cole Griffith.” I responded back. “Poor Kid was 12 and dropped in his front yard. It was the last death we could find.” “So, what are you guys thinking?” Sam asked us. “Eh, maybe it is what the people say it is.” Dean said back.

“I think we would all love that Dean, but I don't think so.” I said back to him. “Yeah miracles? Dean, our experience, when do miracles just happen?” “Well, there's no deals. There's, uh, no skeevy faith healers.” He was right so what was going on in this town. “Dean’s right the souls aren't being taken.” “Maybe 'cause there's no one around to carry them.” Sam replied back. “No reapers that would explain this.” “Then nobody's dying. So what? The local reapers on strike? Playing the back nine? I don't know, Sam, Y/n.” “Well let's talk to someone who might Cole.” I said. “The kid? The kid's a doornail.” “Maybe maybe not but we could go talk to him to figure it out.” “I love how matter of fact you are about that. Strange lives.” We do have strange lives since we're talking about talking to a dead person.

We were digging up Cole's grave well more like Sam and I. Dean was going through Dad’s journal. “You sure this is gonna work?” He asked Sam. “No. But if his spirit's around, this should smoke him out.” “I can't believe we're doing this to a kid’s grave. It's messed up.” I said I was still digging. “Yeah, well unfortunately it's part of the job.” Sam gave me an answer when I was not looking for one, I was hoping maybe for some sympathy. “This job is jacked.” Dean said, sounding done. “How so?” Sam questioned. “You want me to gank a monster or torch a corpse, hey, let's light it up, right? But this? If we fix whatever this is, people are gonna start dropping dead. Good people.” He was right but whatever was keeping the souls I had a feeling was not good. “Look, I don't want them to die, either, Dean, but there's a natural order.” Sam’s response to Dean was complete Bullshit. “Sam, you want to talk “natural order ", how about Dean coming back from Hell or us still being alive after dealing with the jackpot of death.” I finished jamming my shovel harder in the ground annoyed at Sam. “Yeah, but the normal rules don't really apply to us, do they?” I did a double take at him.

“Really Sam? We are not like others, we are just as human as others.” “Y/n/n come on as you said Dean has been to hell and I'm infected with demon blood, and you are practically besties with an Angel.” I scoffed at his reasoning. “Look, I know you want to think of yourself as Joe the Plumber, Dean, and you y/n as a secretary but you're not. Neither am I. The sooner you accept that, the better off you're gonna be.” “You gonna help us finish this?” Sam asked Dean as a man walked up. “Hey!” shit shit shit we really need to get better at being quiet digging up graves. “What are you doing here?” He questioned. How do you even reason this? “Uh so this does not look like what it is.” I said, sounding nervous. “Really? 'Cause it looks like devil worship.” Fuck we so need to get better. “What? No! No, this is not devil worship. This—This is—this—this is, uh—” Dean was trying to reason. “I don't have a good answer.” He said and I gave him a really look. “We're leaving.” Sam said as we got out of the grave.

“You're not going anywhere.” Huh? “Ever again. Sam.” The man said as his eyes rolled to white. Oh, fucking great its Alice from Hell. “Alastair.” “I thought you got deep fried, extra-crispy.” Dean said, backing away a bit. “Nah. Just the pediatrician I was riding. His wife's still looking for him. It's hilarious. Anyway, I have no time to chat. Got a hot date with death.” He flicks his hand at Dean and I as he flies back and hits some tombstones. “Dean, Y/n!!!” Sam yelled out. I was slowly fading as I saw some things as Sam had flicked Alastair back. “You're stronger, Sam. You've been soloflexing with your little slut?” “You have no idea.” And then Alice smoked out Sam was still hooked I thought as I went out like a light.

I was sitting on the motel bed with a hell of a headache and an ice pack and wondering about Sam. “How you two doing?” He asked, walking in. I was thinking a lot about how to talk to him about this. I may be pissed but he was still my brother there was a reason why he was still hooked. “We're in pain, that's how we’re doing. I think we have concussions.” I think he was right because things were starting to cross. “You want some aspirin?” “Oh God yes please” I said, grabbing at it. My brothers may be able to tuff it out around but not me. “No thanks, House. So, demons, huh?” Dean said and of course he would say no. “Yeah. So much for miracles.” Sam replied. “And what the hell happened with Alastair again?” Dean questioned. What is Sam going to say to that I wonder. “I told you, he tried to fling me or whatever. And it didn't work, so he bailed.” Really Sam Alastair the big bad Demon couldn't fling a human when he did to us yeah that's believable. “Well, how come he couldn't fling you? He chucked you pretty good last time.” “Got no idea.” Sam’s got to get better at lying. “Sam, do me a favor. If you're gonna keep your little secrets, I can't really stop you, but just don't treat us like idiots, okay?” Dean said to Sam about us, and he had no idea. “What? Dean, I'm not keeping secrets.” 

As I said before, get better Sam. “Mm-hm. Whatever. So, did you go back and q-and-a the dead kid?” See, even Dean can sense when something is going on. “Didn't have to. Bobby called. He did some digging.” “And what did he think?” I asked. “He thinks I'm right. Local reaper's gone. Not just gone—kidnapped.” “By demons? Why?” “Listen to this.” As he read from the notebook. “"And he bloodied death under the newborn sky—sweet to taste, but bitter when once devoured."” “Ha I really hope I'm wrong sam but that sounds biblical like a seal.” “Well you are right Y/n unfortunately basically, you kill a reaper under the solstice moon—tomorrow night, by the way—you got yourself a broken seal.”

“How do you ice a reaper? You can't kill death.” Dean examined. “I don't know. Maybe demons can. Where the hell are the angels is what I want to know. We could use their help for once.” Yeah, sadly they aren't on doctor calls even though I would love to give Cas a pager. ““What are we gonna do, just swing in and save the friendly neighborhood reaper?” “You got a better idea, I'm all ears.” “Dean, reapers are invisible. The only people that can see them are the dead and the dying.” Right, oh no.”Well, if ghosts are the only ones that can see them…” No No No.”Then we become ghosts.” Dean said, putting his ice pack back on his head. “You do have a concussion.” “No Sam he doesn’t he's just insane he's talking about astral projection. Which means Pamela, which means she is going to hate us more.” I said sighing and lying back on the bed.

Pamela and Dean enter the room with Pam looking pissed. “I can't even begin to tell you how crazy you three are.” She was right, we go look for danger every day. “Well, Pamela, you're a sight for sore eyes.” Sam said to her trying to lighten the mood. “Aw, that's sweet, grumpy. What do you say to deaf people?” Damn “Which one of you brainiacs came up with astral projection?” She asked us. “Yo.” Dean said, raising his hand a bit. “Of course. Chachi.” I love how she calls them out like I do. “So, let's be clear. You want to rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world? Do you have any idea how insanely heavy-duty that is?”

“Maybe, but that's where the reaper is, so…” “So, it's nuts.” “Yes, it is but that's why we came to you.” I replied. “I do. Know what to do. And guess what? I'm sick of being hauled back into your angel-demon, Soc-Greaser crap.” “Look, I'd love to be kicking back with a cold one, watching Judge Judy, too.” Dean said to her, and he sounded like a total dick. “Nice. More blind jokes?” “You know what I mean. We're talking the end of the world here, okay? No more tasseled leather pants, no more Ramones CDs, no more” I look at her and grab her hand. “Please Pam, we need your help.”

I was closing the curtains so it would be an easier environment to slip into the astral plane. While the boys were lighting some candles. “Tell me something, geniuses. Even if you do break into the veil and you find the reaper, how are you gonna save it?” She asked us which was a good question since we hadn't gotten that far. “With style and class.” Dean replied with his usual cocky attitude. “You're gonna be three walking pieces of fog who can't touch or move anything. You'll be defenseless, hotshot.” “I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of us.” Sam said. “Sam, they had years to be mad and to practice for us it will be like going into kindergarten with seniors.” I replied to my brother's comment. “Y/n’s right.” Pam agreed with me. “Well, then, I guess we got to start cramming.” Dean said, slapping his hands together in preparation. "Wow, couple of heroes. All right. Lie down. Close your eyes.”

Sam layed down on the left bed and Dean and I layed down on the right because there were only two beds. “Animum vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. Vis, vis, vis. Okay, guys. That's it. Showtime.” I open my eyes and look around at everything looking the same. “Well, nothing like shooting blanks. What's plan B?” Dean said and Pam did not respond. I look at Sam as he jesters to our bodies. “Damn this is trippy.” “You can say that again” Sam said, agreeing with me as Pam stood up.

“All right, so, I'm assuming you're somewhere over the rainbow. Remember I have to bring you back. I'll whisper the incantation in your ear.” She said as she whispered something to Sam and I'm guessing I didn’t want to know what she said. “Y/n be safe.” “Thanks Pam you too.” I responded back even though she couldn't hear me. It was nice to have someone other than my family care about me.

We are walking on the street, and everything looks like it's colored in a bluish tint. A jogger runs through Sam like he was air well I guess he was. “That was wild.” Dean said smiling like this was fun. He then proceeds to put in his arm through Sam. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” “Get out of me.” Dean looked at me. “Oh, don't even think about it ghost or not I'll still kick your ass.” I said to him, “You guys have no fun. Come on.” He said walking further down the street. “Oh, man, we've been spooking this town for hours. No demons, no black smoke.” Dean finished as I looked up to a window of a house and saw someone staring at us. “Hey. Three o'clock. Kid in the window.” I said to them nodding my head up, he saw us and disappeared. “It's Cole Griffith, the last person to die in this town.” We look at each other and head to the house.

We go upstairs and we can hear stuff being thrown and Miss.Griffith running away scared and sad. As we enter the room Cole is standing by his dresser and he throws a soccer ball right at us. “Stop! How are you doing that?” Dean said, grabbing Cole's hand. “Who are you?” He asked us. “Cole, it's okay.” I said approaching him. “How do you know my name?” “Look, this isn't gonna be easy to hear, but...you're—dead. You're a spirit. Us too.” Sam said to him. I'm pretty sure he knows. "Yeah, thanks, Haley Joel. I know I'm dead. What do you want?” See. “We just want to talk.” I said to him. “About what?” 

Mrs. Griffith was pouring another glass of her poison at the kitchen table, and it was like looking at a video of me from when Dean was in Hell and Jack and Daniles was my best friend. Cole was standing closest to his mom looking at her. “I was outside all morning. They tell you to be careful when it's cold.” He had passed away in front of his own house from an asthma attack kid deserved so much longer. “Cold air can cause an asthma attack?” Dean asked and Cole shrugged.

“But then I was in my room. It happened so fast. I called out for my mom, but nothing came out. Everything started spinning, and then I was just standing there, looking down at my body.” “And that's when you saw the man?” Sam asked referring to the reaper. “Creepy old guy in a black suit. He wanted me to go with him, but…” He turned back to his mom. “I didn't want to go.” I don't blame him, I don't think anyone would. He was a twelve-year-old full of life with a great family. “How'd you get rid of him?” Dean asked him as in where the reaper went. “I didn't. The black smoke did.” “Black smoke?” “It was everywhere. I hid in the closet, and when I came out, it was gone, and so was he.”

“Do you know where the smoke went?” “No. But I know where it is.” Just than the lights started to flicker, and the house started to shake. “They're back.” Cole said. “Who?” He doesn't answer and vanishes. And a white shaped figure went upstairs. “Hey! Hey! Wait! We need to talk to you!” Dean said going after the white figure. Sam and I following. A woman comes down the stairs and she looked at Dean like she knows him. “Dean.” She says to him, and it looks like she does. “Do I know you?” He asked. “We go way back.”

Tessa walked down the stairs in front of us. “You don't remember me?” she asked Dean. “Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time, I heard a girl say that... You're gonna have to freshen my memory.” Tessa then surprises us all by pulling him forward and gives him a soft kiss and let’s go. "Tessa” Dean says with a knowing expression in his eyes. “That's one of my names, yeah.” “So, you do know each other?” I questioned. “From the hospital after the accident.” “Wait the one with Dad?” He nodded. “So, this is the reaper that came after you.” Sam questions looking at them both. “Yeah” Tessa then turns to the stairs to go up to the kid I’m presuming.

“Well, this was fun. Now, if you'll excuse me—” “Wait, wait, wait, wait, you can't—you can't take the kid.” Dean stops her. “Why?” “Demons are in town, that's why. They've already snatched your reaper pal. The kid knows where.” “So?” “So, you should leave, or you could be next.” I said to her. “Except that this town is off the rails.” When we are talking to her Mrs. Griffth is getting ready to go somewhere while Sam and I watch her. “And someone has to set it straight.” She said to us. “Yeah, we understand that, but these are special circumstances.”

Dean said, trying to reason with her. “What? Your whole angel-demon dance-off? I could care less. I just want to do my job.” I wish I could do that. “Right, yeah, and, look, we want to help you do your job. So, if you would just bail town— “Sam starts to say. “No.” “Well, then, could you hold off until we fix this? Please.” Dean asked, pleading with his eyes. “All right, but just so we're clear, when I start reaping again, I'm starting with the kid.” Damnit “Okay well I'll go find him.” I said starting to go upstairs but Dean stopped me. “Wait, wait, wait, wait. What— What are you gonna say to him?” I answered honestly. “The truth.” I said as all three starred after me like I was crazy.

As I walked up to Cole's room, I hoped that I could approach him in a delicate way and still tell him. “Cole? It’s me Y/n” I looked to the closet door and saw it was closed and I went over to knock on it. “Cole, I just want to talk.” He opened the door with his ghost powers, and he was sitting on the ground with his head in his knees. “How did you know I was in here?” He asked me. “When I was your age, I used to hide in here too.” I sat down next to him. “This all must be pretty overwhelming, huh? Pretty scary, too.” I hoped he could see I wanted to help him. “The worst is my mom.” “Must be hard seeing her like this.” “She's always coming in here, talking to me, telling me how sad she is. I knock some stuff over to let her know I'm here, but...she only gets sadder.”

“When someone I loved passed, I was like your mom I basically kept on talking to a ghost.” I said referring to myself when Dean died and went to hell. “I don't know why you're telling me this. I'm not telling you where the smoke is.” “Cole, I’m telling you this to help you when I was like your mom, I had someone help me so maybe you can be that for her.” “She feels your spirit, that's why she's sad because she can't be with you. So, imagine how she will feel when you move on.” He doesn't speak. “When you go, I'll be right next to you, so you won't be alone. I promise.” He looks up. “Promise” “Promise” 

Cole and I walk downstairs as I clear my throat. “It's okay, Cole. Just tell them what you told me.” “I saw the black smoke at my funeral.” “At the cemetery?” Dean questioned. “At the funeral home. It was everywhere.” It makes sense for reapers, funeral homes. Then the lights started to flicker again. “You doing that?” Dean asks Tessa. “No.” The doors burst open, and the black smoke invades all over the room and I can't see for a second and when it's gone so is Tessa. “Tessa!” “Cole, you, okay?” I asked him. He nodded his head. “Well, how the hell are we supposed to fight that?” Dean asked, sounding annoyed. “Good question, learn some ghost moves.” I suggested. “By tonight? Yeah, sure. I'll meet you back at Mr. Miyagi's.” I shrugged. “Who's Mr. Miyagi?” Cole asked and the three of us just between us and feeling old and me sad for Cole for not seeing the legendary Karate kid.

Cole was teaching us how to move a windmill and it was harder than I thought it would. Right now, Dean was trying. “It's not gonna move if you don't concentrate.” “I am concentrating.” Sam and I both raise our eyebrows at each other. Dean moves it a little bit. “Ah, here we go, baby.” And it stops. “You pull a muscle?” Cole said and let me tell you he is a funny twelve-year-old. “All right, Yoda, let's see what you got.” Cole tries and the windmill and the porch bench goes crazy with wind. “Nice Cole, that is so cool!” I said to him fist bumping him.

“Dude! You are so Amityville.” Cole smiles. “This isn't even the good stuff.” We were now in the living room learning how to punch. Cole punches Sam and he folds over. “See? If you want to hit something, you just got to get mad.” Oh, I can get mad. Sam stands back up out of breath. “Yeah, got it.” “Now you try. Hit me.” Cole said Dean. “Uh, I think I'll stick to just picking on somebody my own size.” Cole then punches Dean and Sam and I both laugh. Dean then goes to punch Cole back, but he vanishes. “Whoa. Whoa, you got to teach us that.” I said to him.

Dean, Sam, and I walked over to the funeral home, and it was covered in glowing blue diagrams, mostly six-sided figures, some in circles and some in squares, all with lines through them and squiggles inside the triangles thus formed. “This looks like New Jack City. Can nobody see this?” Dean questioned. “Maybe it's demon invisible ink. Only see it in the veil.” Sam answered. “It could be keeping out Angels.” I add in. “We'll find out.” We walk in and in the middle of the room, there is a square with triangles on each side to form an eight-pointed star, with squiggles at each point. Lying in the figure are Tessa and an old man in a suit, presumably the first reaper.

A Demon was standing guard next to the star. “Watch and learn boys.” I said going behind the Demon and tapping him on the shoulder and when he turned, I punched him and when he tried, I disappeared. Dean then comes to the other side and does the same and Sam knees him in the chest. It was an all sibling beat down. He scrambled away to a hide behind a coffin. We followed him and we didn't see the other demon behind us, and he pulled a rope that brought down an iron rod that dropped and trapped us in. A third Demon walked, and it was my favorite fucking one Alice in wonderland.

Alastair approaches us with a shotgun and shoots Dean, and he disintegrates. “Rock salt's not so much fun anymore, is it?” Sam and I glare at him as Dean reappears. “Alastair. You bastard.” “Well, go on. Why don't you try some of your mojo on me now, hotshot?” We can't do anything. Usually, I love Iron and rock salt but today it's a pain in the ass. “You know what Alice, why don't you hop your way back to Hell.” I said grinding my teeth.

“Ah the little Winchester you may be a bitch, but you got some kick It's going to be fun peeling your skin off. And I would go back. They just keep sending me back up to this arctic craphole.” “To kill death?” “No, to kill death twice. It takes two to break a seal. I figured another one would show up, though. They're like lemmings.” He cocks the gun again and this time he shoots me. I reappeared and son a bitch that hurt. “You can shoot us all you want, but you can't kill us.” “Ah, that so?” 

Alice now has a giant scythe in his hands. “Anyhoo… moons in the right spot. The board is set. Let's get started, shall we?” “You're gonna kill a reaper with that? It's little on the nose, don't you think?” Dean said. “Is it? “An old friend lent it to me. You know, he doesn't really ride a pale horse? But he does have three amigos.” He walked over to the reapers. “And they're just jonesing for the apocalypse. It pays to have friends in low places. Don't you think?” Alastair picks up the old reaper and enacted the incantation and kills him. As he does this Sam and I look up at the chandler and have the same idea. He then goes for Tessa and Sam, Dean and I concentrate on the chandler to bring it down. It falls down and breaks the trap and Tessa is able to break free. She unhooks our trap and we’re able to get out. “Bye-bye.” Dean said and the four of us vanish. 

We get back on the street and Dean and Sam are not here. “Where are your brothers?” Tessa asks me. “I'll find them when you get out of here.” She leaves and I go looking down some alleyways “SAM! DEAN!” I yell. “You can't run. Y/n. “I turn and their standing is Alastair. I back away and he follows “Not from me. I'm inside that angsty little noggin of yours.” He's about to attack but instead a white, blue lighting strikes him. “What the Hell?” “Guess again.” I turn back around, and Cas is there.

“What just happened? You guys just saved a seal. We captured Alastair. y/n, this was a victory.” “Were you here the whole time?” I ask him. He looks away. “Enough of it.” Great. “Well, thanks for your help with the rock salt.” “That script on the funeral home—we couldn't penetrate it.” “It was enochian I was right” “Why do you think I recruited you guys in the first place?” Wait hold up. “You recruited us?” I ask. “That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, y/n. It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal.” “That was you?” He nodded looking down.

“If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?” “Because whatever I ask, your brother seems to do the exact opposite.” “Cas you could have asked me, I would have helped you.” “You shouldn't have to.” “So, what now, huh? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?” “Yes.” “These are good people. What, you think you can make a few exceptions?” “You did for Dean” “He’s different. So are you.” “What does that mean?” I ask him. “Y/n? I could use your help.” It's Tessa and when I turn back to Cas he's gone.

Cole is staring at his mom again and she is looking at a photo book of Cole. “Look at her, Cole. Do you see how unhappy she is?” Tessa said, trying to convince him. “That's why I want to stay with her.” “As long as she can feel you, she'll be in pain, because she can't let go. Because you won't let go of her.” “Why won't anybody tell me what's on the other side?” “Maybe nobody wants to ruin the surprise.” “That's not an answer.” “She won't answer you, Cole. Reapers never do. But trust me. Staying here is a whole lot worse than anything over there.” I said to him. “Why?” “Because one day, your family will be gone, and there'll be nothing left here for you. It's okay to be scared.” “I'm not scared.” “We're all scared. I'm scared every day that I won't be able to save my family. It’s okay to be scared Cole.” He pauses.

“Are you coming?” He asked me. Staring at him I walk over to him and hug him. “I won't but you will be okay. I know being scared feels horrible, but I have a secret. I turn that into bravery for the people I love because they deserve it. I know you can do it too.” He let me go. “Thank you, Y/n, for telling me the truth.” And with that he walked over to Tessa and hugged her, and he melts into a white light. “Look out for that boy.” “Look out for yourself, Y/n.” “What do you mean?” “I've been around death from the get-go. You know what I see most? Lies. "He's in a better place." "At least they're together now." You all lie to yourselves, Y/n 'cause like you said, deep down, you're all scared. Stop lying to yourself, Y/n.” “What” “The angels have something good in store for your brother. A second chance. Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure, deep down, you know something nasty's coming down the road. Trust your instincts, Y/n. There's no such thing as miracles.” “What the Hell are you saying?” I didn't get an answer as I woke up.

I wake up with a deep breath and look around to see my brothers and Pam hurt. “What happened?” I question racing to her side. “Y/n, where's Tessa?” “She's…” “Pamela, I'm so sorry.” Sam said, getting emotional. “Stop.” “You don't deserve this.” “Yeah, I don't. I told you I didn't want anything to do with this. Do me a favor? Tell that bastard Bobby Singer—to go to hell forever introducing me to you three in the first place.” “Take it easy, Pamela. If it's any consolation, you're going to a better place” I said to her comforting well trying. “You're lying.” She was right, I was. “But what the hell, right? Everybody's got to go sometime.” “Y/n come here.” I go over to her and lean down. “The Angel you have on your shoulder might be more devil than you think. Be. Careful.” I backed away. Then she called over Sam. When she was done, she started to cough. She passed. “Pamela!” Dean yelled and then looked up at Sam. “What did she say to you?” Sam doesn't answer.

Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed it! I am so sorry this took so long. Part of it was writer's block and life and the other was that this is not my favorite episode, but I thought it be important to the story. But the next episode is head on the pin and oh my gosh it's probably one of my fav episodes from season four. So, look out for that!

[impala-dreamer]

Everlong - Chapter Eleven

A Supernatural Series

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

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

Chapter Eleven Word Count: 2468

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! This one's ... intense...

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

Y/N perched on the foot of her bed and rubbed her palms down her thighs, nervous and exhausted. 

Her room looked sad and abandoned. It had been a while since she’d stayed there, coming in only now and then to grab clothes or switch out toiletries. A few photographs in dusty frames sat atop her desk and her mother’s crocheted blanket hung over the back of the chair. Otherwise, the place was unrecongizable as belonging to Y/N. 

Her time was spent with Dean now, cluttering up his room and his life.

Honestly, if she thought about it, she couldn’t remember ever sleeping in her room. Or setting it up, placing the photos on the desk top, folding the blanket. If she really thought about it, it all seemed so foreign, so strange. 

Castiel knocked gently and her thoughts shifted to the problem at hand. She smiled softly as he came in, jumped a bit when he shut the door behind him. 

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, feeling a little shaky as he walked towards the bed. “We could have just done this out there-” 

“I thought you would prefer the privacy.” 

His deep voice sent a shiver through her and Y/N laughed awkwardly. 

“If you wanted to get me alone, Cas, all you had to do was ask.” 

She winked and he frowned, confused. 

“I did.” 

“Yeah, but- it’s- yeah, nevermind.” 

He cocked his head but she waved it off, shaking her head at him. 

“Just forget it. So, what do you need me to do?” 

Castiel approached the bed, eyes sweeping over her face. “It would be helpful if you lay back,” he said simply. “Get comfortable.” 

Her stomach flipped. “Why? Aren’t you just going to slap me with two fingers and get to healing?” 

Pulling the chair away from the desk, he dragged it to the side of the bed and sat. “I could, yes. But Dean seems to think that more is needed. We’d like to find out what is going on.” 

Tentatively, she scooted up onto the bed, her eyes still locked suspiciously on Castiel. “And how are you going to do that?” 

He waited until Y/N’s head was settled on the pillow. “I’m going to take a look inside your dreams.” Leaning forward, he reached his right hand towards her head, but Y/N flinched away. 

“You’re gonna what now?” 

“I’m going to look inside your mind and follow the dreams back to their source.” 

He was too calm, too sure that what he was saying wasn’t insane, and Y/N laughed at the ridiculousness of her life. 

“So…” She sat up on her elbows and stared him down. “Your plan is to knock me out and dream walk inside my head with me?” 

Castiel pondered for a second and then nodded. “Yes.” 

“Don’t you think that could be a little… awkward?” 

His brows furrowed. “How so?” 

Y/N stammered. “I- well- I mean- I don’t know what’s going on up there. What if there are things you shouldn’t be seeing?” 

Castiel smiled warmly and sighed. “Would it help if you swore me to secrecy?” 

“Actually, I think it would.” Calmer, she lay back down and folded her hands over her stomach. “And no judging me. Dreams are weird. Do you dream?” 

He laughed lightly. “I do not.” 

“OK, so you don’t know how weird it can get in there. No judgy. Promise.” 

His fingers hovered over her forehead. “I promise. No… judgy.” 

Satisfied, she took a deep breath and looked up into his bright blue eyes. “Just be gentle with me, Cas. I’m not sure if-” 

“- I’m entirely comfortable with this. What the fuck…” 

They stood in the middle of a brightly lit room. The walls were beige, the floors tiled in speckled white. Heavy metal bars hung over the windows on either side of them, and empty chairs were sat next to empty tables. 

Y/N looked around, confused. 

“Where are we?” she asked, fear making her reach for Castiel’s hand. 

He squeezed back reassuringly before letting her go. 

“I was hoping you could tell me,” he replied, squinting at the double doors across the room. 

Y/N shrugged. “No clue. If I’m dreaming, this is a new one for me.” 

“You are dreaming,” he said, taking a step towards the exit. 

“So what do we do now?” 

“We see what happens.” 

“What if nothing hap-”

On cue, the double doors burst open and Dean, dressed in the pale blue uniform of an orderly appeared. He looked past Y/N and Castiel, pushing a sluggish figure in a wheelchair. 

“Dean?” 

He didn’t respond or seem to notice her there, going about his work of wheeling in the patient. 

Y/N looked close as they came near and gasped when she saw herself in the chair. Her hair was down, matted and greasy, covering her tired face; her arms stretched tight around her torso in a straightjacket. 

“Well, this can’t be good.” 

Castiel was without question or judgement and Y/N was at a loss. She shrugged at the angel and watched as Dean locked the wheelchair’s wheels. When he was done, he turned to leave and Y/N felt a strong urge to follow him. 

“I guess this is what we’re doing, Cas. Come on.” 

Awake and walking through the dream felt like floating through gelatin. Her legs were weak and each step seemed to bring the world closer but push her goal further away. 

Once they pushed through the doors, the hospital was gone, replaced with an open field of purple flowers and a slowly setting sun. The Impala was parked in the middle of the flowers and Y/N smiled, hoping for a lovely scene. 

The windows were down and Y/N peered inside, careful not to disturb anything. A blush washed over her face when she beheld a very naked Dean pounding into her dreamself in the backseat. 

“Oh… oh my…” She shook her head at Castiel, waving him off before he could reach the car. “You… don’t need to see this one… All good in here.” 

Just as she spoke, the sound of her own voice cracked the sky. Y/N screamed from inside the car as Dean ripped into her gut with the tip of the ancient First Blade. His eyes flashed to black and the Y/N outside screamed as well. She could feel the seering pain as the bone cut into her stomach, see the horrific grin on Dean’s face. 

She scrambled back and away from the car, slipping down into a patch of thick mud. 

The sky faded to pitch as she lay there, coated in the damp muck. The Impala vanished and she struggled to move. 

Castiel reached for her and she stood by his side, steady, safe. 

“What is going on?” she whispered, breath slowly rushing back into her lungs. 

“I’m not sure,” he said sadly. “Just remember, you’re safe. None of this is real. We’re still inside your head.” 

Y/N groaned. “Yeah, but I’m not liking what’s in here so far.” 

“Neither am I…” 

Together, they walked a few paces in the dark, lost without direction or guiding light. 

“Well this is just stupid,” Y/N sighed, refusing to take another step into the unknown. “I need a… thingy.”

Castiel balked. “Thingy?”

“You know… a…” As soon as she found the word, it appeared in her hand, fully charged and bright. “Flashlight! Cool.” 

Turning, Y/N cast the light across the open field. Not too far away, a large figure was hunched over like a rock in the dark. 

Y/N hesitated. “Maybe we just stay here,” she whispered, leaning close to Castiel. “Nothing good can come of going over there.” 

Cas cleared his throat and tugged on her sleeve. “We’re going.” 

The closer they got, the more the rock moved. As the light shone, Y/N could clearly see that it was less of a rock and more of a Sam Winchester rocking backwards with a barely clothed Y/N in his lap. 

Stunned, she stared on as her dreamself tore Sam’s orange plaid open and ran her tongue down his throat. 

Castiel turned to Y/N and bit his lip, questioning with a sensitive look. 

Y/N clicked her tongue, biding time while she thought of an excuse. “Look, I- I mean… I can’t control what goes on in here! We said no judgy!” 

A growl caught their attention and the angel and Y/N looked back to see the other Y/N sink her fangs into Sam’s throat, ripping a chunk of flesh clean away. 

Y/N cringed. “Holy shit-” 

Sam screamed, clawing at her bare shoulders, trying to push her off as the blood coated his chest. 

As she watched, Y/N felt her mouth flood with warmth and Sam’s spicey aftershave and minty taste filled her senses. She swallowed hard and hummed as the sweet blood ran through her system. 

“This is fucked up,” she gasped, reaching out to grab a fistful of trench coat, steadying herself. 

Castiel agreed. “Very.” 

The blood kept coming, pouring into her mouth, thick and as sweet as honey. She shivered as Sam cried out and dream Y/N sat back, laughing at his struggle. 

Behind them, Dean appeared out of nowhere, a long blade tight in his fist. He swung and Y/N went down, her head rolling off into the darkness. 

“Well… damn!” 

Y/N’s jaw dropped as she watched herself die and Castiel pulled her close. 

“We should go,” he said, turning with her as the scene faded. 

“Go where?” 

The world opened up around them and the light returned, blinding and hot. 

“This is exhausting,” Y/N sighed, pulling away from Castiel’s side. “Sleeping isn’t supposed to be so traumatic.” 

The sun eased behind a cloud and a junkyard appeared around them. Cars and trucks in various stages of repair cluttered a dusty lot, and Y/N sucked in a stunned breath. 

“What are we doing here?” 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed at the sign above the driveway. “Singer Auto Salvage,” he read aloud. “This is Bobby Singer’s old place.” 

Y/N nodded, too stunned and terrified to speak. 

Confused, Castiel turned, looking around at the wrecks. “But you were never… how are we here?” 

A few yards away, he appeared, stepping into the empty row across from them. His ballcap was dusty and his face was caked with blood. A smile lifted beneath his graying beard and Bobby raised a hand to wave at Y/N. 

“Daddy?” 

She took off in a flash, kicking at the dry earth as she ran towards Bobby. 

“Daddy!” 

A shot rang out, stinging her ears, and Bobby’s knees gave out as a bullet burst through his chest. His white tee ripped apart and soaked up the crimson flood. As he hit the ground, Y/N looked up to see her own eyes staring back, a smoking gun held tight in her hand. 

“No!” 

She hit the ground, fists pounding the dirt. 

The pistol clicked, the chamber reloaded. 

Castiel dragged her from her knees while the sky shimmered above them. 

“Let me go!” Y/N raged at his hand, trying to pry the impossibly strong grip away. “Cas!”

His hands fell away and Y/N hit the ground again. She gasped as her hands hit smooth tile, the dirt gone and forgotten. 

Suddenly back in the Bunker, Y/N climbed to her feet and took a heavy breath. “What is going on? None of this has been in my nightmares, Cas. This is all weird-” 

The angel was walking ahead, forging on down the twisting hallway. 

Y/N followed, holding her breath around every turn, sure she would see some heart-stopping horror at each bend. 

As they walked on, a gentle but husky moaning pulsed from somewhere in the Bunker. Y/N blushed, recongizing her own heated noises. 

“What the fuck, am I just screwing everyone in here?” 

A loud cry echoed down the hallway and she quickly caught up with Castiel. 

Y/N cleared her throat. “I don’t think we need to keep going…” 

He frowned. “We do. We’re here to do a job and we’re going to do it.” 

“Yeah but- do we really need to see- oh god…” 

Stepping into the War Room, Y/N and Castiel followed the sound upwards. There, hovering just under the roof, was a very naked Castiel and an equally naked Y/N riding him, her hands pressed into the ceiling, his tie wrapped loosely around her neck. 

“Fuck, just like that…” Dream Y/N cried out, hips rolling over Castiel’s.

Embarrassment slapped Y/N in the face and she laughed painfully. “I… um-” 

Castiel turned to face her, his cheeks a little pinker than usual. “It’s alright, Y/N.” 

“This isn’t- um… I mean…”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m not gonna say I haven’t seen this one before but…” 

Again, Castiel shook his head, stunned into a strained silence. 

He turned to leave and Y/N pressed her legs together as a jolt of pleasure struck her. 

“Oh god. Cas! I’m sorry!”

Back through the hallway they went, peeking into open doors and pushing at locked ones. Everything they saw was unexpected, every scene slightly worse than before. Y/N’s mind was a catacomb of oddities and Castiel helped walk her through it without a scolding word. 

Y/N was growing weary of the entire experience. It was one thing to dream these scenarios, but to see them all laid out one after the other was nearly too much to take. 

In one door, she watched herself overdose, bloody spit bubbling from her mouth while Sam struggled to give her CPR. 

In another, Dean dressed as Doctor Sexy carved his name into her thighs and chest before fucking her hard, the blood dribbled onto his cock like lubrication. 

There were a thousand doors and a million dreams, and Y/N found it impossible to keep going. She could feel everything she saw, good or bad; smell the burning flesh behind the door to Hell, taste the motor oil that Dean poured via funnel down her throat. She was stabbed, shot, hung, pulled apart, fucked, cuddled, kissed, adored. She loved and murdered and cried and laughed. She ran through mist and cowered under staircases. Watched herself die and kill, live and lose; heard the throbbing pulse of the universe as it rang through her mind.  

It was all too much. 

At the end of the hallway, she collapsed. Her head was spinning and the air was too thin. With her last breath she called out for Castiel and he rushed to her aid, scooping her up into his strong arms. 

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[aviradasa]

I got you 🖤 to make this authentic I smoked a fat ass blunt just for you anyways I did the characters you requested plus a few extra and I decided to do small HC/ drabbles cause I have to many imagines atm 🤣 anyways also I added nuada from hellboy 2 cause he's pookie all the way @horny4bj-blog

Characters included:

Hellboy (2004)

Prince nuada ( hellboy 2, 2008)

Daryl (Alexandria timeline)

Sam (supernatural)

Dean (supernatural)

Castiel (supernatural

Lucifer (supernatural)

Let's get startedddd

Different characters react to you stoned/couch-logged

Hellboy:

Honestly was not surprised when he walked into him room one day to it smelling entirely of weed. Honestly he was mostly impressed because not only did it smell. But when the door opened all that came out was smoke.

Like damn.

When he went to venture further he was also not surprised when he saw you sprawled out on the couch with like 6 cats laying on you.

You didnt register him calling your name until he threw a candybar at your face

This is pretty much how it went

“Hey???” “…” “Hellooo??” “…” “Hey!” “Ow fuck what do you want.” you say as you open the candy bar and take a bite

Honestly he doesn't really care but he expects you to share you weed with him. If you don't he will lowkey just take it without asking and deal with you later. (no he won't pay you back hes always magically broke when you ask him to 😒)

As for you being on the couch he tells you to move over. If you don't he moves you himself.

He finds it funny to mess with you when you get to the point when you think everything is in slow motion And your basically not registering anything the way your supposed to

Like one time yall played Uno. And you were at the point you couldn't even read the cards and you were slumped over leaning on the back of the couch like a corpse thinkin the number 6 was the funniest shit on earth

And what did he do.convinced you to give him your cards so he could read them to you.in your state you agreed. That prick (this is based off a true story i have a lot of these adafia if you see this. Fuck you I should have one that game 🖕)

Yeah naw i dont have much for him he's just an asshole who also smokes so he don't really care yall end up watching a lot of movies though.

Nuada:

Now he's interesting with this idea lmao

He's confused as fuck cause he don't really do shit that could alter his mind, he want to stay sharp and ready for anything (boring fuckaaaa)

He at first acts like a disappointed mother

“ now why would you go and do this to yourself knowing what we have to do.” “because I'm a whole ass adult and it makes it more fun.” “that's besides the point (name)” part of a real argument yall had at one point

Yeah like don't get me wrong he doesn't hate weed he just thinks it makes you act dumb

He's lowkey right though

But anyways back to the prompt. When he walks in and your just spaces out in your bed he just shakes his head and goes to do what he needs to do.

If you are logged somewhere is his way this man with nudge/kick you with his foot until you move and if you don't he will just use his foot to roll you out of the way.

He acts like he doesn't care and to be frank he doesn't have the energy to put into caring about something so dumb so he leaves you alone.

But then there was the one time that he accidentally ate an edible.

He took that shit like a champ though and was able to function decently, but for the most part he was just chillin just silently staring off into space

He says he would never do that again. But you decide not to say anything when you notice some of your edibles missing.

Bro thinks he's slick 🤣🤣

Sam:

Ok gonna be honest his brother is dean. Need I say more

He knows what to do he pulls up with the munchies and some red box movie

If your slumped on the couch this man will sit on the floor

Y'all can talk for hours even if he is sober

Or you pass out from him typing on the computer cause I mean that sound is just relaxing.

Honestly don't have much for him he's just a chill guy

Dean:

He don't walk in

He's slumped with you on the other side of the couch

He eats all the damn munchies

He refuses to watch anything besides old Scooby doo reruns.

(he has a crush on the hex girls)

He's literally just a grown up child when he's high (not much different then normal)

Yall are laughing high people

The jokes are hilarious

Cass

He walks in and sees you on the couch looking half dead and he's confused

Like really confused

“Are you ok?” “huh?” are you ok??” “HUH??” “nevermind.”

He doesn't know what to do so he does nothing 😭😭

If you ask he will get you snacks

He's kinda hard to talk to so if you are laughing its at him not knowing anything

(these are getting short cause of my beautiful bong so its not my fault blame daisy that's my bongs name.)

Lucifer:

Ok let be honest here

He's lucifer he's hilarious

If you wanna feel like your gonna suffocate from laughing then he's your guy

He doesn't even try to be funny he just says out of pocket shit.

All the time

I haven't seen much of his character yet but he's already a favorite

I don't think he would light up with you unless you peer pressure him

Yes you have to peer pressurethe damn devil to smoke the devils lettuce with you.

If yall do he just spaces in and out while your on your phone on that couch unmoving

But during this spacing in and out he just says weird shit

I dare you to show him the dark crystal afterwords tho just trust me.

Daryl:

This man could not give less of a fuck

He's used to seeing people on all sorts of shit so some weed don't scare him

He just goes about his day

He will sit and chat with you

He's a horrible high sitter tho

If you get to high he's your worst nightmare

Will throw fake spiders and shit at you knowing your on that couch to see you jump

He's lowkey funny tho 🤣

He might smoke with you once in awhile

It's rare tho he's more of a drinker

Anyways that's all for today hope you enjoyed dis shitz

Edit: sorry I sounded like a fuckin idiot here also sorry I forgot Crowley and carol 😭😭 I wrote for nuada took a break forgot it was nuada and gaslit myself into thinking I wrote for Crowley 🤣🤣

didnt mean to but its really late and I'm to lazy to write for them rn so I hope you enjoy what I got down please forgive me🖤🖤 also sorry nuadas there you didnt ask for him I was just living it up with daisy at that moment.

[casbeeminestiel]

Day 2: Pillow Talk

They get home well after midnight, stumbling into the bunker with errant bits of corn silk on their clothes and the lingering warmth of cider on their breath. Sam and Eileen lead the way, Sam turned as much towards her as possible as he signs something Dean can’t quite make out.

That’s okay though. He squeezes Cas’ hand three times and shoots a wink his way. Cas smiles like he’s never been happier. Dean knows for a fact that he hasn’t.

Earlier, at the corn maze, they had stayed together the entire time. It wasn’t a plan exactly, but Dean was certainly pleased with the outcome. He still feels the ghost of Cas’ stubble on his lips, barely refraining from reaching up to touch them with his free hand.

It would be ridiculous if it wasn’t so damn sweet.

They peel off into separate directions. Sam and Eileen go to the kitchen, and Dean and Cas head down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

When they reach Dean’s door, they stop, unsure.

Do I invite him in? But wait, what does he expect tonight? Am I ready for sex?

Castiel, as if sensing his thoughts, rushes to assure him.

“I would be amenable to spending more time with you tonight. I thoroughly enjoyed kissing you, but I hope you know that I don’t want anything you don’t want. Your happiness is the most important thing to me, Dean. We could do anything, or we could do nothing. To me, it would still be everything.”

And Dean, well. Dean damn near sheds a tear. To have someone anticipate his anxiety and for him to know that Cas means every word of reassurance? Dean thinks he just fell in love all over again.

As it is, he can’t stop himself from cupping Cas’ face and kissing him sweet and slow. Cas closes his eyes and sinks into the sensation immediately, his hands coming to rest on Dean’s heart over his flannel. His lips taste like cinnamon. When they pull apart, Dean nips at ‘em.

“Fuck, c’mon in, Sunshine.”

Dean opens the door with shaky hands and lets them both in. As soon as the door is closed, Cas is up in his space (as if he ever really left it), catching his eye in a clear request.

Dean nods. Of course he does. They’ve spent twelve years not kissing each other, and it’s a damn shame and an error that must be amended immediately.

They fall into each other in an instant, restraint checked at the door. Dean’s higher function shuts off, leaving his brain in a state of primordial mush. Cas makes a sweet sound into his mouth and wraps his arms tight around Dean. Dean closes the remaining gap between them, pressing their bodies together heads, shoulders, knees, and toes.

It’s desperate, in a way. But it’s not demanding. Dean marvels at this. So rarely has he been with a partner who wants him, but also simply wants him to be comfortable.

They keep kissing through the lump in Dean’s throat, and they only break apart when a tear rolls down his cheek and meets Cas’ hand at the seam of his jaw.

“Dean,” he brushes another tear away, tender. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, Cas. I’m… I’m not good with all this touchy-feely emotional stuff.”

Cas’ eyebrows knit together.

“Do you want to stop?”

“What? No. No, man.” The very thought.

“Then what…?” The question is implied. What can I do to make you feel good about this?

“Cas, listen. I have my hang ups about this kinda stuff, ok? I’m not saying I won’t trip up down the road. I mean, you know me,” he breathes through a chuckle.

“This though? Right here? I’m good. I’m more than good. Fuck, I’m finally kissing the guy that I’m in love with, so y’know.”

“Dean,” Cas melts against him at the words. He folds him back into his arms, tucking his head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder. Dean releases a shuddering breath, knowing Cas feels it when he clings tighter.

For a while, they just sway in place like this. There’s none of the urgency of earlier to be found in their embrace.

That is until Cas pulls back just enough to draw Dean back in against his lips. Then, Dean is lost to bliss and ignorant of time as they move together. It’s all heat and honey bee buzzing.

They land on the bed, they lose their shirts, and they find each other over and over and over again. It’s a crescendo with nowhere to go, a taste of what’s to come and a dose of perfect medicine.

Kissing Cas is like pumpkin pie and whiskey and everything good in this life. Dean is warm and full from this simple piece of human contact he’s practiced thousands of times with countless people.

Maybe it’s strange to call his previous experiences practice. But right now in this bed with the love of his life, he can say confidently that it was all a rehearsal for this moment. Cas is the big leagues. The boss. The curtain call.

This is why, when they finally slow down and Dean rolls off Cas to land with a breathless laugh beside him, he feels like maybe he could do this forever. In his chest, where something heavy and rotten usually resides whenever he thinks of love, there is only steam and sugar and bright, beautiful air.

And when they talk into the night until the very moment their eyes grow too heavy to hold open, heads snug on the same pillow, Dean knows who he calls home.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s12e3 the foundry (w. robert berens)

we're back in minnesota. i lived in st paul for a few years. here waxing poetic about the skyways in minneapolis while watching 8x03

avocado toast, dude with a bun, how very millenial?? (me trying to remember when hipsters died out and it went to just ragging on the whole generation. dean and i are at the cusp of gen x but sammy is solidly geriatric millenial, right :p)

you understand babies crying is like. me fighting against every instinct to find and help the baby. which is especially annoying when it's a baby on the tv. it's not as bad now since my youngest is 5, less on red alert for baby crying but it's still a thing for me and it can stress me the fuck out

i would not be able to pass the crying baby haunted house lure

MARY After you left heaven, when did it start to feel like...like you fit, like you...belonged here? CASTIEL Well, I'm still not sure I do. Mary...you do belong here.

my feelings aside, boys think you do too, cas. and feeling for mary. she got pulled out of heaven (presumably - and with john, presumably? may have read something saying they shared a heaven too) and plonked down with her adult sons who she doesn't know at all, really.

egads what is this music? kind of sounds like recorder/theremin solo. also that's really short you're going there mary! new hair new you, i get it, but doing that big of a chop at home is an undertaking

suspension of disbelief that she managed that very modern cut and styling all alone in the bunker

MARY I'm gonna keep it short if I'm gonna go out on a hunt, you know? Why give the bad guys the advantage of long pullable hair right? DEAN Wow. I've been trying to tell Sam that for years.

vry cute. i'd seen that in a gifset and i was looking for it but searching for the episode just gives me wall to wall cas gifs :p

MARY It's probably nothing. I just thought I might...get out there, stretch my legs. SAM I-I thought you-you weren't down to hunt in the first place. DEAN Well things change, right? Family hunting trip.

poor mary. just trying to get some time alone to sort out her head and dean's not picking up what she's putting down. E for effort

ok i can see some potential with the grumpy and obnoxious buddy cop routine between cas and crowley

aw they're holding hands, how nice

CROWLEY So mother and I had an unfortunate, if not rather embarrassing, run-in with Lucifer. You're just mad because you're only my second choice for a Lucifer-hunt team-up. CASTIEL (said sarcastically) No, actually I think it's sweet. I thought your motivation was ambition and revenge, but now I know you just wanna save your mother. CROWLEY It's not about saving her. Lucifer has made off with a colossally powerful witch who, by the way, is the only person alive who can slam him back in the cage. He will either kill her, control her, or she will offer her services to the biggest bad in town in order to save her neck, like she always does. Do any of those sound like particularly good outcomes to you?

crowley comin in hot with the logic. see that's another thing that irks me about how they write cas. he's snarky, then he's a buffon. he understands sarcasm and knows every pop culture reference via metatron zap, the he takes everything literally and is constantly confused. PICK ONE. preferably the sarcastic snarky one :p

quietly asking for mark pellegrino to get magicked back for lucifer

MARY Hmm. Mm, maybe, but...all I know is, that little boy who grabbed me, I...he didn't wanna hurt me. He was scared. SAM Yeah, um...it must've felt that way, but, mom, the victims were all lured to their death by a baby's cry. Uh, the spirit marked Natalia right before she was killed, the same way the spirit marked you. I mean, if we hadn't gotten there in time...

mushy music returns but i already used my video quota on the weird recorder music

SAM Look, I'm happy, too, Dean. I am. I'm overjoyed. But...there's something about her. I mean, something's going on with her. DEAN Yeah, she's adjusting. SAM No, she's struggling. I mean, she's trying to bury herself in hunting to avoid dealing. DEAN And how do you know that? SAM Years of personal experience. I don’t know man. Uh...like mother, like sons.

hey sammy, does that mean you're gonna force dean (and yourself) to deal with all of y'all's shit too :p

ok also slightly suffocating that she's trying to get some space and now she's crammed into one hotel room with her very large sons. so who got the rollaway bed? mary because she's the smallest, but i can't imagine dean standing for that. maybe rock paper scissors with sam

okay that made me laugh. here for rowena being tricksy

the music in this episode continues to be weird. i really don't understand why it stands out so negatively so frequently to me

DEAN Mom, it's okay. All right? You're home now. MARY No. I'm not. I miss John. I miss my boys. SAM We're right here, mom. MARY I know. In my head. But I'm still mourning them as I knew them. My baby Sam. My little boy Dean. Just feels like yesterday, we were together in heaven, and now...I'm here, and John is gone, and they're gone. And every moment I spend with you reminds me every moment I lost with them. And I thought hunting, working, would clear my head. SAM Mom...w-what are you trying to say? MARY I have to go. I'm sorry. I'm so...so sorry. I just need a little time.

(mushy music round 2)

well. that's shitty. can see where i'd gotten the "mom walked out on them" thing from fic. but as ever, i can see both sides on that one. being yanked out of literal heaven without any say in the matter, thrown into an unfamiliar world and feeling useless. some time and space is totally reasonable. and i don't know that dean would have given that if she stayed in the bunker. but also, can see how hurt and abandoned that could leave the boys feeling. no-win situation. and not entirely sure why we're even doing this resurrected mary plotline.