Crowley X Reader - Blog Posts
Hello my stars! Sorry I’ve been gone for so long :,) but it is now summer and have too much time so please give me all requests you want!^^
Fandoms I will write for
Supernatural (platonic and romantic)
- Team free will
-Jack
-Crowley
-Rowena
-all the arch angels but Raphael
The black phone (platonic or romantic)
- dead boys crew
-Finney and Gwen Blake
Yurri voice (platonic or romantic)
- Everyone but Derek
(I couldn’t find a gif sorry, my stars🥲)
What I won’t write
Smut
Yandere
Hurt no comfort
Abuse
Piss or shit kinks
Child x adult (romantic)
Cis Fem readers
What I will write
Child x adult (PLATONIC)
Trans fem and masc readers
Male readers
Hurt with comfort
And pretty much anything else
Preferences for requests
Try to be at least a little specific in what you want and some story stuff you want ^^
That’s all my stars! Have fun requesting, make sure you drink water, eat food, and have a lovely day my stars!⭐️
Being BFFs with Crowley Would Include:
Warning: There's a curse in here. It isn't a terrible one though. No worse than what you would hear on the show. - You met him when you were a Hunter and he was still a crossroads demon. - You were going to kill him, but instead you got on really well and just started ranting about everything together. - Next thing you know, you're eating lunch in Hell with him. - Supporting each other, but not always agreeing with each other. - You'd be his advisor. - You'd have your own smaller throne next to his throne in Hell and you'd both quip to each other on every subject that was brought up. - You aren't necessarily a demon or evil. You probably could be considered morally ambiguous though. - This morality of yours makes Hell a slightly less, well, Hellish place. - At first, this led to criticism of Crowley's reign but he quickly shut it down by torturing and then killing all who spoke ill of you and your effect on him. - People, angels, monsters, and demons are so terrified of you. - Partly because you're a badass on your own who can kill them, but also because of Crowley keeping tabs on you. - They won't even touch you because they know you two would come for them. - You convince Crowley to cooperate with the Winchesters more by explaining how it is in his and Hell's interests. - Juliet and his other Hellhounds love you. - He gave you two little Hellhound puppies that you can actually see. - You recognize Crowley deserves to be loved and you do love him. - And you give him so many hugs. This secretly really makes him happy. Although he acts like he's bored for the most part during them. - If you date anyone, you can bet that they have been thoroughly vetted and will never hurt you. - You and Crowley both enjoy drinks with tiny umbrellas and pitchforks in them together. - You enjoy making puns with him about Hell. - He teaches you different languages. Some are dead but that just makes them mean that much more to you. - You're next in line for the throne. - He frequently becomes really upset and you always can calm him down. - Taking pictures of you two acting overly enthusiastic together in ridiculous outfits in different locations. You have so many of those pictures. - Whenever someone pops up to attempt to uproot his position, he makes sure that you're well-guarded as well. - You two are excellent problem-solvers together. - The Winchesters are simultaneously grateful for your friendship and enraged by your friendship. WARNING- I do not own Supernatural. None of the characters mentioned are mine and you are owned by you. Please don't sue me.
IMAGINE Crowley with An owl S/O since crows and owls are the opposite of each other. Just a ironic relationship
Stern, sophisticated S/O who’s always annoyed by Crowley and his antics but loves him regardless(tough love💔) and Crowley head over heels over them, always wrapped around their finger.
It’s scented… right?
Summary: The boys help shop for all you feminine products while you are away
Word count: 0.6k
A/n: I really just needed to write, so, please injoy :)
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The buggy’s front wheel spun in quick circles, the squeaking irritating Dean the deeper into the store he went. Sam had two hands on the handle bar, leading them down various isles as he grabbed what was on the grocery list.
“Did you get the milk?” He asked, glancing at his brother as he placed a bag of chips into the buggy.
“No.”
“Why not? We were just at the dairy isle.”
Dean shrugged his shoulders eyes glazing across the chips. “I thought you grabbed it.”
A huff left Sam’s lips. “Yes, because I’d grab the milk after I told you to do it.”
“I’ll get it later, ok.” Dean told him, snatching the grocery list from his brothers hands. “What do we need to grab next?”
“Tampons and a couple pads.” Sam answered, having memorized the list already.
“Tampons and pads? I thought she had that.”
“No, Dean.” Sam muttered leading him and his brother to the feminine isle. “If she had it we wouldn’t need to get more.”
Cas made his way towards the brothers a case of beer in hand as he placed it into the cart. “All they had was light beer, so I hope that’s alright.” He told them, trailing next to the buggy.
“That’s fine, Cas.” Sam told the angel.
“Yeah, for you.” Dean mumbled, shooting a small glare at the alcohol.
Taking another turn, the three wandered down the isle stacked full of female products. Each stoping beside one another as they took in all of the many items that filled the shelves.
You’d asked Sam specifically to grab your feminine items, seeing as he’s the only one who’d lived with a woman before. It would have been a whole lot easier than asking Dean or Cas to do it.
“So,” Dean began arms crossing over one another as he stood before the various pads and tampons. “What does she need? Yellow? Green? Purple?”
Sam glanced up from the list to look at his brother. “What are you talking about? Why are you naming colors?”
He nodded towards a tampon box. “They all have different colors, Sam, kinda like fruits.”
Cas wondered over to Deans side, his eyebrows furrowing. “These things have taste?” He asked, picking up a box to look at it more closely.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Sam shot a glare at his older brother. “What?” Dean asked.
“Why would it be flavored?” He asked trying to reason with the man.
Dean shrugged his shoulders, taking the box back from Cas and placing it back in the shelf. “Some guys like that kind of stuff, Sam.”
Sam scrunched his nose in disgust. “That’s disgusting.”
“But it’s not flavored, Cas,” Dean began, turning towards the angel. “Because it’s scented.”
“Scented?”
“Dear god.” Sam mumbled to himself, running a hand across his face.
Dean nodded, gesturing to the rows of boxes. “Of course they’re scented. Because blood has smell, and so girls have to cover it up with a better smell.” He snapped his fingers, an example coming to mind. “Like perfume.”
Cas let out a small hum, his attention returning back to the products. Dean glanced over at his brother, his voice dropping down to a whisper. “It’s scented… right?”
Sam shook his head.
A small ‘oh’ fell from the older man’s lips, face ever so slightly heating up on how wrong he truly was. Facing the shelves one last time Dean had begun to pluck and pull a good many boxes from their previous spots. “We’ll just get one of everything,” he told the others, placing the items into the cart. “Better safe than sorry.”
A sigh fell from Sam’s lips as he watched both Dean and Cas place multiple box’s into the buggy, before wandering away to the desserts isle. Leaving the poor man with the over loaded cart full of felmine products.
“I’ll handle it, y/n,” he mumbled to himself, trailing after his brother and angelic friend. “I know what to get you, trust me.” Sam leaned his upper body against the handle bar, glancing over all the items that they’d gathered. “We won’t need to get more for another year or so now.”
Baby face
Summary: You start to get upset when Dean decides to shave off his beard
Word count: 0.5k
A/n: Live. Laugh. Love. Bearded Jensen.
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Your hands gently moved through Deans beard, the small hairs causing you fingers to tingle from the sensation. His own hands rested on your thighs, holding you gently as you sat on top of the bathroom counter.
“Princess?” He called, watching as your eyes drifted from the hair on his face to his relaxed ones. “Are you gonna start or are you gonna wait for it to grow longer?”
A small pout found its way onto your mouth, “I don’t want to get rid of your beard.” You whined, having half the mindset to hide the razor from the taller man. “I’d rather watch it grow.”
Dean mirrored your pout, albeit mockingly. “Well, it’s starting to get on my nerves, princess. It has to go.”
“Ok. But what if we just leave a bit of stubble instead?”
“No.”
“But, it’s attractive.” You told him, hoping that’d he change his mind and keep it for just a little longer.
“To bad.” He replied, stepping from between your legs. Taking a bottle of shaving cream and the razor from your grasp. “It’s starting to itch.”
You let out a small huff, slightly mesmerized at how he gently applied the shaving cream to the lower portion of his face. The fluffy white sudes mixing into the small strands thickly and throughly
Dean wetted the blade beneath the warm faucet, giving it a good shake to take off all excess water. Fingers gently pressed against his chin, he began to shave against the grain of his beard. You felt your stomach drop as you watched the foam disappear and just the smooth skin left in its place.
“What if you just keep a mustache?” You asked, leg coming up to your chest as you rested your chin on top.
Dean stopped his movements, glancing at you through the mirror. “Absolutely not.”
A scoff came from your mouth. “Why not? Do you think you’d look like hitler or something?”
“I wasn’t thinking that, but now I am.” He told you, continuing to shave away at his facial hair.
“So, no?”
“No.”
You shook your head, sliding off the counter as you made your way behind the older man. Placing both arms around his torso you rested your cheek against his back, listening for his heartbeat through the back of his shirt.
“Princess,” Dean called, not stopping his movements. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t watch you ruin your face.” You told him bluntly, turning your face to bury it in his shirt.
A chuckle left his lips, giving a smile glance over his shoulder to look at you. “Ruining my face, huh?” You nodded. “You know it’ll grow back, just like last time and the time before that.”
“But it’s torture.” You wined. “It’s like I’m dating a child when your done.”
Dean gave a small nod of his head, knowing that you’d either be talking about his childish behaviors or the baby face he’d get after shaving. Though it could just be both. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Will it make you feel better if next time I let you shave me?” He asked, dragging the blade over the last strip of foam from his face.
You nodded you head just a tad, “A little, yes.”
“Okay, princess.” He wiped any remaining shaving cream from his face before turning around and wrapping his arms around you. “We’ll do that.”
you trying to distract the vampire from the fact that Sam and Dean are killing the rest of its nest: So… does menstrual blood taste any different than vein blood?
the vampire who’s been listening to you for the past half hour: Please. For the love of God. SHUT UP!
the vamp:
Privacy privilege
Summary: Dean had started to invade your privacy more often after a hunt
Word count: 0.8k
A/n: I had some fun writing protective Dean in this one
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The last hunt was too much of a close call for Dean.
It’s been a simple vampire case, a in and out kind of deal. But, when you slipped up a little and were almost a vamps blood bag, he felt a need to protect you immediately afterwards. The thought of you ending up dead while on a hunt with him caused an itch in the back of his brain. Something he needed to get rid of or at least settle down.
So, he began to follow you around.
It started out simple enough, sitting on the same booth as you at a restaurant, watching you through the rear view mirror on a long drive. And, recently making you share the same bed as he did. The feeling of your body safely tucked against his calmed him.
But, then the more hunts you went the more worried he got.
The feeling that something would happen to you if he wasn’t around caused him to panic and start to hang around you more than ever.
What started as a simple watching you from the corner of his eye quickly turning into needing to be right next to you 24/7. He’d follow you around like a lost puppy, eyes darting around to find any potential danger.
You’d spoken to Sam about Deans behavior, and he had agreed that it was new and different than what he normally is. But, according to Sam, Dean is naturally a protector at heart. Probably coming from being the oldest and having to take care of his little brother all the time.
But, still, you appreciated Dean trying to protect you, but he had started to invade you privacy.
Often not leaving you alone when you’d really need to be. Kinda like right now. You were taking a shower in the motels bathroom, the water cascading down your body when Deans humming kept on bringing you out of your peaceful state.
You didn’t really know when he entered the bathroom, but when he did you know it was no use in trying to kick him out. He sat patiently on the toilet, the lid down so that he wouldn’t ache from sitting in the same spot for twenty minutes.
A small magazine rested in his hands, the sound of the turning papers mixing with his humming caused you to finally stick your head past the shower curtain.
“Dean.” You called, in the nicest voice you could muster. Slowly growing tired of his protective attitude.
“Yes, princess?” He asked, the magazine he’d been reading tossed onto the counter as he focused solely in you.
Pasting a quick smile on your face, you pulled the curtain closer to your naked body. “Could I have just a couple minutes to myself in here?”
Dean furrowed his brows. “Why?”
“Because, it’s kinda weird how I’m naked in here while your out there fully clothed and humming a rock song.” You stated, hoping that telling him you were slightly uncomfortable with the situation would be enough for him to leave the bathroom.
“Would you like me to join you then, so you’d feel less weird about this?” He asked, standing from the toilet seat and making his way towards you, his flannel quickly coming off and into the piles of clothes you’d already made.
“No! No, Dean.” You started to shout, more than likely grabbing both your neighbors and Sam’s attention whilst doing so. “Put the flannel back on and get out!”
“Why?” He asked confused. “I’d have my back turned the entire time, or if you want I could even help you shower-“
Dean stopped talking when a soft but wet object connected with his face. “Did- did you throw a loofah at me?”
“Yes, and I’ll throw something harder next time if you don’t get out of here!” Your face was hot, and not just from the boiling shower you were taking but because Dean freaking Winchester was trying to hope in the shower with you like it was a normal thing.
He held up his hands, reluctantly making his way to the bathroom door. “Look I get that it’s weird, but it’ll help protect you.”
“Dean, I’m not going to die in the freaking shower.”
“Who knows, it’s a strange world, but I’ll be here if it happens and I’ll be able to-“ His eyes widened as you made an attempt to throw your soap bar at him, missing him by a hair and sending him running out of the bathroom.
A breathy laugh came from one of the beds, facing the noise he saw his brother with newspaper articles and his computer laid out in front of him. “I told you she would not have appreciated you going in there.” Sam told his older brother, a smug smile playing in his lips as he watched Dean taking a seat at the small table.
“Shut up.” He told him, now waiting for you to leave the bathroom so that he could be glued to your hip once more. “She’s gonna thank me one day.”
“Yeah, but definitely not any time soon.”
Dawg gone-it!
Summary: Dean isn’t too keen on how close you and a stray have been getting lately
Word count: 0.6k
A/n: NO HATE AGAINST ANY DOGS!!! We love dogs, and Dean loves dogs, just not the one you’ve been getting close to
A/a/n: Y’all I just got done with the first set of workouts this summer, for school. And OMG it literally killed me, I don’t know if I can do this all summer.
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Dean had always loved dogs. Ever since he was a little boy all the way to the burly man that he currently was, his heart had always had a special spot for the canines.
Until, you had rescued one from a hunt.
A week. Minimum. That’s how long you and the brothers had agreed to keep the animal until you found a rightful shelter. Seven days with man’s best friend, living and traveling in the back of the impala with them.
A simple week, Dean would’ve loved that.
Yes, he would’ve loved it, if all your attention hadn’t stayed solely on the dog.
It was everyday that you’d get up early and walk the animal, Sam often joining in his jogs before he would take a different route. And, Dean was fine with you getting the dog some exercise, what he didn’t like was you leaving the warmth of the motel bed to do so. Leaving Dean yearning for the feel of your body in the early mornings.
And it wasn’t even just that. No, no, no. You’d had given the dog your leftovers one afternoon. Right in front of Dean too. Knowing well enough that whatever you didn’t eat, you’d always hand over to Dean.
But, it shouldn’t bother him, no. Dean could go with out your morning embrace, your leftover Chinese that Dean tried his hardest not to tell you that he was waiting patiently for.
No, what really bothered him more than anything, was when you called that dog your ‘pretty boy’.
Dean was your pretty boy. It was the nickname that you’d donned him with, he loved that special little name that you’d picked out for him.
And out of all the names that’s what you’d called that slobbery animal, that’s what you called him. That dog, who’d slowly been taking you away from Dean ever since he was found out in the streets. Who’d been stealing you away from him for the past few days right under his nose the whole time.
Dean couldn’t prove it, but he knew that the dog was doing it on purpose.
He knew that the dog would give him a satisfied smirk, every time he’d turn his back on you and the animal. He knew what he was doing and he was playing you like a damn fiddle.
You currently sat on your and Deans motel bed, an old hay brush passing through the dogs tangled fur as you gave him sweet praises. Dean sat behind you against the headboard, muttering under his breath all the things you’d say in a mocking tone.
Not that he was trying to mock you, but you’d fallen so easily in the dogs trap that you could no longer get out. It was kinda hard not to.
“Good boy.” You whispered to the dog, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “The goodest boy.”
Dean could see his tail wagging from his position, body moving with each sharp wag.
Suck up. Dean wanted to say to the dog, not that he won’t when you leave the room. But, for now he’s happy with the one sided argument that he’s winning against an animal.
You then placed the hairbrush on the side of the bed, hands coming to pet the dogs now soft fur. Gentle praises leaving your mouth as you then began to scratch behind his ears.
Dean stared at the sight before him, wishing that he’d be the one that you’d run your fingers through his hair. Telling him how pretty and handsome he was. “You never do that to me.” Dean muttered softly.
“What?” Thankfully, what he said never truly meeting your ears.
“I said he’s very obidient.” Dean replied louder, watching as a small smile formed on your face as you agreed. Your attention returning back to the animal, completely missing the sour look he gave the dog.
God, he couldn’t wait til this dog was gone.
It’s a scream, baby
Summary: Dean and you discuss what the best Horror film is
Word count: 0.5k
A/n: In your opinion, what’s the best slasher movie?
A/a/n: Y’all please ignore the graphics on this one, I literally didn’t sleep at all last night because I was finishing a book. So please just ignore it. Thank you!
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“No,no,no,no,no.” You quickly spoke, the bucket of popcorn jumbling around in your lap. “Carrie, only killed everyone because she was made fun of on the best day of her life. If she weren’t then everyone would still be alive.”
“But that doesn’t make her movie the best horror film.” Dean accused, mouth filled with half eaten popcorn as he did so.
You rolled you eyes, “I never said Carrie was the best horror film, I was just trying to make a valid point.”
“And it was a valid point, but that still doesn’t answer the main question.”
“Does it really matter?” Sam asked, trying his hardest to focus on the slasher film both you and Dean forced him to watch.
“Yes.” You both said in unison.
Facing you again, Dean began to make his own point. “Friday the 13th, is by far the best horror film.” He told you grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bucket before popping it in his mouth. “Because it has all the right things a good slasher would need, a great backstory, a power hungry killer and most importantly tits.”
“Ok, one,” you began, holding up a single digit. “The first movie sucked, the second was the best of the franchise. Two, Jason was not power hungry, he was a man with severe mommy issues. And, three, all 70’s to early 90’s slasher has a girl showing her tits.”
“Not all of them.” Dean muttered.
“And besides, all the girls that ended up flashing the camera were dead by the end. That’s Scream, 101. Which I think is the best slasher.”
Dean let out a chuckle, “And why would Scream be better that Friday the 13th?”
“The Ghostfacers are hot.” You told him bluntly, taking a quick sip of your beer.
“They’re hot?” He said, almost as to see if he was hearing you right. “That’s why you think it’s the best horror film.”
“Yes.”
Dean looked over at his brother, trying to see if he was agreeing with you or not. Even though Sam had stopped listening to either of you a good couple of minutes ago. Glancing back over at you again, he squinted his eyes ever so slightly. “What other slashers do you find hot?”
You looked up at the ceiling, hand coming up in front of you as you began to start counting on your fingers. “The ghostfacers, with or without the masks, Micheal Myers, Jason, that Tiffany girl-“
“Tiffany is a doll.” Dean stated.
“And?” You then continued. “That dude from fear street, that had the potato sack over his head, he was really hot then. And, the guy from the black phone.”
Dean furrowed his eyebrows, “I thought the guy from Black Phone was gay.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Y/n, he kidnapped little boys and watched them while they slept. He isn’t just gay, he is also a pedophile.” He told you, pointing an accusing hand over at the TV as if it were the moving playing.
“Ok, so, he might be gay. Big deal. But, Ethan Hawke had some great tits in that movie.”
Dean gave you a funny look, “Why were you staring at his tits?”
“The same reason you do, Dean.” You told him placing a couple pieces of buttered popcorn on you tounge. “The same exact reason you do.”
Supernatural Masterlist
So… Deja Vu?
— Sam and Dean have to watch their best friend die over and over again everyday.
Tell me a story
— Dean has trouble sleeping at night
My wife, even better
— Dean can’t stop talking about you, his wife.
Better than nothing
— You and Castiel work together to help make Deans birthday cake.
Strange human emotions
— Castiel has been experiencing some rather strange emotions, especially ones that revolve around you.
Said, I was sorry
— You’re pissed at Dean, and Sam and Bobby find it amusing.
Five more minutes
— Dean gets to spend the morning with you
It’s a scream, baby
— Dean and you discuss what the best Horror film is
Privacy privilege
— Dean had started to invade your privacy more often after a hunt
Baby face
— You start to get upset when Dean decides to shave off his beard
It’s scented… right?
— The boys help shop for all you feminine products while you are away
Five more minutes
Summary: Dean gets to spend the morning with you
Word count: 0.4k
A/n: Lowkey, I love this one, hope you guys enjoy ;)
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Sun filtered through the cheap motel curtains, filling the room with its earthy glow. Dean had been up for hours. Basking in the feel of your body pulled tightly against his own. It was almost heavenly.
God, you were so pretty. He would think to himself, arms ever so slightly tightening themselves around your waist. You looked so young when you were relaxed, so innocent. It made Dean just want to protect you from the outside world.
But he knew he couldn’t do that. He knew that when you’d wake up, you’d go back to be in the badass hunter that you were. The one who pretended to not be afraid of anything and tried to protect the ones you loved.
And Dean loved that side of you, he’d cherish it every time he saw it. But, when you relax and let the world and all its bullshit problems escape from you, that’s when Dean would step in. That’s when Dean would protect you like he does Sam, he would worry and shield you away from danger if he could. If that meant you would be sweet and innocent as you were now.
He lifted a hand, tugging it up to pull a few pieces of stray hairs from your face. Fingers gracing the your soft skin gently before he retracted his hand. You slowly rustled against his touch, eyes squinting against the gently lit room before nuzzling back into your previous position.
The sound of his brother slowly waking caught his attention, Dean knew that he’d have to wake you up as well. Force you out of bed and out into the world of hunting. So, he pulled you closer, his head coming to rest on top of yours as he just listened to you breath for now.
Happy and content that you were at peace for just a little while longer. That he would get to have this moment with you for just a couple more seconds.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice called from his bed, voice groggy and ruff from just waking up.
“Yeah?”
“We gotta get up.” He told him, the sound of covers being thrown meeting Deans ears.
He just hummed in acknowledgment, allowing him a few more seconds to soak in your unaware presence. The smell of your body wash and old perfume, consuming his senses as he laid there. “Just give me five more minutes.”
Five more minutes, to take in the feel of your skin against his own.
Five more minutes, to bask in your beauty.
Five more minutes, to feel like he can actually protect you from the world that they live in.
Five more minutes, to for him to realize that he can’t live without you beside him.
Five more minutes, to realize just how much he truly loved you.
Said, I was sorry
Summary: You’re pissed at Dean, and Sam and Bobby find it amusing.
Word count: 0.9k
A/n: Once more not my favorite, but still hope you guys enjoy :)
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The silence you gave off aggravated Dean to a higher level. And he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d apologized, tried to cheer you up with a slice of pie, he even listened to both Sam and Bobby on how he could make it up to you.
But to no avail, you barely spoke to the poor man.
He knew it was his fault, anyone could have told him that. In fact you reminded him plenty of times on the ride back from the case. God, that ride back to Bobby’s was dreadful, you made Sam sit in the backseat and wouldn’t even let Dean turn his music up all the way either.
But, he would take that as punishment, if that would mean you would speak to him again.
“So,” Bobby started, voice low as he watched you leave the small library of his. “What did you do to her?”
Sam bit back a laugh, hand coming up to his his smile from his brother. “Shut up.” Dean told him, hands coming up to rub his face. The long quiet drive back having drained his battery. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Bobby leaned against the desk, arms crossed over the other as he stared at the younger man. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t want to talk about it’? She’s barley looked or even spoken to you since you’ve been here. Now, what the hell did you do?”
“I- I messed up on the hunt, ok.” He finally told him, head hanging low for a second before meeting the man’s eyes again. “We were hunting the shapeshifter, and we were lead to an old drinking well out at a farm.”
Dean let out a deep sigh before continuing, “And you know Sam and I were to big and too heavy to go down the well, so Y/n had to do it.”
“So you, what? Forced her down the well, threw her down?”
“No.” Dean muttered, slowly pacing the small library. “No, we tied a rope around her and we hoisted her up and over into the well, and-“
“We?” Sam asked, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “I think I went back to the farm house and tried to find the shapeshifter.”
“Ok, then, I hoisted her up and into the well.” He corrected, shooting an annoyed look at his brother. “And it was going great, I had a firm grip on the rope, she didn’t slip. But…”
Bobby quirked an eyebrow, “But?”
“But, we found the rope in an old shed, and as I was lowering her down the well, I saw- I felt a uh.” Dean lowered his voice, embarrassment seeping its way into his body. “A spider.”
“A what?”
“A spider.” Dean told him a bit louder.
Bobby looked between both Dean and his brother, taking in the shame one had and the other trying to hold in his laughter. “Dean, what did you do?”
“I let go of the rope, by accident.”
A chuckle forced its way past his lips, a hand coming up to hide his ever growing smile. “So, what your telling me is that you dropped Y/n down a water well, because you saw a spider?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Dean tried to defend himself, his tone rising as both Sam and Bobby erupted into fits of laughter. “It crawled up my hands, got under my shirt. It was gonna bite me.”
“She had to ride the whole way here in soggy clothes, because we didn’t bring any dry clothes with us.” Sam told Bobby,
Bobby laughed a bit more at the younger man actions, a hand coming up to wipe away at his eyes. “Look kid, just be nice to her, she’ll have to forgive you sooner or later.” He told Dean, keeping his voice low as he heard you make your way back to them.
You came back with three beers in hand, passing two off to both Sam and Bobby before opening your own. Dean held out his hand expecting you to place a glass bottle in it for him, but just watched as you sit behind the desk taking slow deliberate sips of your drink.
“I would like a beer.” Dean told you, hand coming back down to rest by his side.
“Ran out.” You told him bluntly, flicking through a book that sat on top the desk.
Dean pulled his lips into a thin line, dodging both Sam and Bobby’s eyes. “What do we have?” He asked, needing something to quench his thirst.
You looked up at the older man, pretending to ponder the question. “We have water.”
“Then can I have water?” A cough came from his side, glancing over he caught Bobby and Sam giving him a look. “Please?”
A sigh left your lips before you got up once more, disappearing past the doorway and into the kitchen. “See,” Bobby told him, taking a quick sip of his beer. “Just be a little nice and she’ll forgive you in no time.”
You retured quickly, placing a cup onto the bookshelf next to Dean. Reaching over he picked up the cup, twisting it in front of him, a small scowl resting on his face as he faced you. “This is ice, Y/n.”
“Yep.” You told him, returning to your seat.
“I asked for water.”
“You can wait.”
Dean let out a sigh, placing the cup back onto the bookshelf, “I can wait.”
Strange human emotions
Summary: Castiel has been experiencing some rather strange emotions, especially ones that revolve around you.
Word count: 1.7k
A/n: No one really writes about Cas, and it’s a shame because him, Sam and Dean are my absolute favorite. But I hope you enjoy ;)
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He could feel it coming up again, that same burning feeling in his chest that keeps him up deep into the night. Not that he can sleep to begin with, but still the feeling invaded his every thought as he waited for you and the brothers to wake up.
Cas didn’t know how to explain it, these strange human emotions that he had learned over the years, he didn’t understand them. He knew the ones that you and the boys had taught him, how it helped him learn to express how he felt to others. And he was truly grateful for it.
But, the ones that he was never taught always worried him. Like when he could feel when someone is staring at him, even though nobody is in the room with him. Or even worse when you are near, or when you touch his shoulder when you walk past him, or how about when you speak to him so beautifully that he feels his stomach churning into a weird fluttery feeling.
There must be something wrong, Cas would conclude, pacing the bunker’s library in the dead of night. Maybe you had been taken over by a shapeshifter and this was the universes way of warning him.
Yeah, that had to be it, but how would he tell Sam and Dean that? For Chucks sake you are one of their closest friends, how could he tell them that they would need to kill you?
No. No, he couldn’t kill you. He just needs to figure it out a bit more by morning, he couldn’t just go on a killing spree. It wouldn’t be right.
But if you were in danger or you are the danger then he would need to speak to the brothers about this. But, how?
Cas sat across from you and Dean, Sam to his right of the booth as he stared out the fogged window. The falling snow momentarily capturing his attention, the way each flake was built uniquely different from the other.
It amazed him how something so beautiful could end up in a world like this.
“Hey, Happy meal.” Dean suddenly spoke up, dragging Cas away from the window. “You gonna focus, or are we gonna have to tell you while we fight the sons of a bitches?”
“I’m focused.” Cas told the older man, his hands coming to rest in his lap.
“Mhm, yeah sure.”
Sam cleared his throat, turning his computer to face the others as he began to explain the current case to them. “So, Sophia Cocklen had reported her husband missing, nearly a month ago. And as of three days ago both her brother and eldest son have disappeared as well.”
“Has to have something to do with the men,” you spoke up, dipping a French fry in your ketchup before popping it in your mouth. “Because Sophia’s sister, mother and two daughters hadn’t been touched at all over the past month.”
Sam nodded, clicking on another tab as some police reports popped on screen. “That’s what I thought as well, but the thing is that none of them have any bad records on there name. And…”
Sams voice seemed to drift off, running farther and farther from his ears as the same burning feeling began to arise from his chest. He glanced at you for a quick second, the way you looked at your work and took it seriously. The way your eyes seemed to have a small sparkle in them when you spoke.
And especially the way your hair slightly fell in front of your eyes, hiding that sparkle that made his stomach erupt. It made him want to reach over the table and push it out of your way, just so he could catch another glimpse of…
You pushed your hair out of your face, halting Cas’s thoughts completely. Why was he thinking that? What were you and the boys talking about? Why did his body’s vessel feel so warm and sweaty? Was it getting hotter? What if you had turned evil? What if this was your way to slowly kill him off?
Him. Castiel, an angel of the Lord. Struck down by a woman that was more than likely possessed by a monster.
“Cas?” You questioned, facing the angelic being who seemed to be almost in a trance. “You alright? You look like your sweaty.”
Cas pulled at the collar of his trench coat, the feeling of sweat sliding down his neck. Boy, did he hate how the human body can physically act when you don’t need it to.
“Yes,” He told you rubbing his hands against his pants legs. “Yes I’m fine it’s just a little warm in here is all.”
“Really?” Dean asked, taking a quick sip from his lukewarm coffee. “It’s pretty cold in here to me, what about you Sam? Y/n?”
“Dean.”
“I’m just saying, you gotta focus in, Cas. You’ve been acting real edgy for the last couple of weeks.”
“I’m fine,” Cas told him, trying not to drag the situation down the rabbit hole. “It’s probably just… allergies.”
The boys and you shred a quick look with one another, knowing well enough that angels don’t have allergies. “Cassie?” You questioned leaning forward onto the table. “You don’t get allergies.”
Cas felt his face warm up, “That was just the first thing that came to mind.” He told you, his fingers fiddling with one another. “That’s what you all do.”
Dean smacked his lips, letting out a quick ok before continuing with his conversation. “As I was saying we need to go and search every place that these men where last seen at. And normally I would say go by ourselves to save them, but I’m not so sure what we are up against just yet. So Sam and I will head down to the bar the brother was last seen and Cas, you and Y/n can go and search the junkyard.”
Everyone agreed to Deans order, quickly finishing up their lunch before they need to head back out. Well almost everyone agreed. Cas sat there in his seat, pondering if he should pull Dean or Sam aside and ask if these feelings he is getting about you is bad or good. Because he does not want to harm others but at the same time he didn’t want to hurt you either.
He wanted to beat his head against the table, the thoughts that raced through his mind aggravated him. But what could he do about it? Wait… you and him were going to the junkyard to search for clues of the missing family members, he himself could interrogate you there. But, how?
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At the junkyard, you and Cas kept you voices low, barley speaking a word to one another as you inspected the place. Your flashlight shined about the place, scoping out any and all items that could appear useful for the case.
“So, Sam said that the dad and son used to work here. Almost like a father-son business, you know?” You told him, shining the light in the angels direction, mindful not to blind him in the eye.
He nodded, unable to stop the fluttery filling the further he walked with you. It was killing him, he wanted to ask you what you were doing, because he knew for a fact it was neither of the boys. But, at the same time he didn’t know how to bring it up.
On one hand he could slowly bring up the topic, have a simple conversation before he would ask you. Though, on the other hand, he could just flat out ask you if you were trying to kill him. Because, that’s what it surely felt like. That you were killing him slowly and purposefully.
Cas came to a quick decision, he would hold a conversation with you then ask you. Simple as that, no harm no foul.
“Cassie?” You asked, that soft voice of yours causing his chest to burn and his stomach to twist into knots. What the hell were you doing to him? “Are you alright-“
“Are you trying to kill me?”
You were shocked by his sudden question, his straightforward tone and seriousness catching you off guard completely. “… No?”
“It sure doesn’t seem that way.” He continued to accuse, folding his arms over his chest like he’d seen Dean do plenty of times before. “Would you care tell why you are trying to kill me?”
“But, I’m not?” You told him, voice uncertain and slightly laced with worthy. “Why would you think that?”
Cas glanced around the junkyard, almost as if the answer was somewhere written in the piles upon piles of junk. “My chest has been burning every time you come close to me, or how about when my stomach make me feel like my vessel is going to induce vomiting. When I know for a fact that I don’t eat anything to make it do so.”
You stood silently, letting the words sink deep into your skin. His chest burned? His stomach felt like he was going to throw up? Why the hell would he have thought that you were trying to kill him? It honestly just sounded like his vessel was sick, or maybe he—
You cut your thoughts short, and it suddenly clicked in your mind. A sly smile gracing your lips as you walked towards the angel. “Oh, Cassie~” You sang out, free hand coming to play with the sleeve of his trench coat. “Do you have a crush on me?”
Cas furrowed his brows, eyes dancing across your face as you came closer. “…No? At least I don’t think so.”
A chuckle left your lips, standing up on your tip toes you gave the angel a quick kiss on his check. Watching as a light blush crept upon his cheeks. “I like you too, Cassie.” You turned back to the junkyard, flashing your light at an empty bathtub and broken mattress, leaving the poor angel stuck in his spot.
Cas lifted a hand to where you had kissed him, the ghost of your lips making his heart stutter in his chest. Damn you, he thought to himself. Damn you and these strange human emotions.
Better than nothing
Summary: You and Castiel work together to help make Deans birthday cake.
Word count: 1.1k
A/n: Not my favorite but I just needed something to work on. ENJOY :)
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“So how do we do this?” Cas asked, the dough laid out flatly on the counter, three eggs rested on top of the mushy substance.
Glancing over your shoulder from the mixing batter, you checked to see if the angel was correctly following your instructions. “Cassie, when you fold the eggs into the dough, you have to crack them.”
Cas furrowed his brows, facing the counter in front of him once more. “But, I don’t understand, you said we had to fold the eggs inside, you said nothing about cracking the eggs open.”
“Yes, I did tell you that, but we can’t eat eggshells, Cas.”
“Why not? Eggs are full of protein and nutrients for the human body.” He told you, slowly cracking each egg into the dough.
You let out a sigh, wondering how your life had come to you teaching an angel of the Lord how to make a hand made birthday cake. “Cassie.” You mumbled, setting down your mixing bowl and making your way to the angel. “The chicken and the yolk have the protein, the shell just protects them.”
Cas let out a quiet hum, watching the way the yolk broke up into the sticky dough. Mixing into the other ingredients slowly, his hands continued to stick to the batter. “When would I know to stop mixing?” He asked, blue eyes meeting yours as he continued to mix.
“When you can’t see the eggs by themselves anymore.”
He nodded slowly, hands kneading the dough until the eggs were deeply embedded into the batter. “What do we do with it now?”
“Now,” you began, quickly bringing over a pan to hold the cakes structure. “We place the dough in the pan, and let it bake for ‘bout thirty minutes.”
Cas lightly picked up the dough, placing it in the pan you held out for him. After that you placed it in the preheated oven, gently closing the door before setting the over timer. “What do we do while it’s baking?” He asked you, wiping his hands on his trench coat, any of the dough that stuck to his hands coming off on the poor jacket.
“Well,” you began, making your way back to the mixing bowl, the whisk sitting upright in the homemade frosting. “I need to add the finishing touches to the frosting, but we do need to clean up the kitchen before the boys come back.”
“Right.” Cas muttered, picking up all the empty measuring cup that was laying around and placing them in the sink. “Would we also need to sweep up the flour on the floor?”
“Yes, Cassie, that would be just fine.”
As Cas cleaned the kitchen, you finished up the icing, placing it onto the countertop and helping out the angel with washing the dishes as he sweeps.
Ding
“Y/n, I think the cake is done baking.” Cas told you bluntly, crouching down to sweep his dust pile into the dust pan.
“I think your right, Cas.” You told him, wiping your wet hands onto a nearby rag as you went to retrieve the finished cake.
The heat from the oven graced your face, the top layer of the cake a nice and warm bronze. “Perfect.” You hummed to yourself, using the rag to take the hot metal pan from the oven.
“Hey, Cas?” You asked the angel, placing the pan on the counter to cool down. “Do you wanna swap? Me clean the rest and you ice the cake.”
Cas gave you a quick nod, swapping places with him, you watch out of the corner of your eye as the angel spread the blue icing across the now cooled down cake. Bits of the cake coming up with the small spatula he was using, an annoyed expression playing on his face the longer he tried to get the icing to stick.
“Do you think Dean will like this?” He asked placing the spatula down and admiring yours and his work. “Because it looks a little…”
You walked over to his side, the rag you’d been using tossed over your shoulder as you looked over the cake. It was a dark blue, slight holes from where the icing wouldn’t fully cover the it, it also leaned on its right side. Though it shouldn’t since it was baked in a straight circle pan.
“Funky looking?” You finished for him, both your and the angels head cocked to the side as you took in the celebratory dessert.
The sound of doors opening suddenly caught your attention, “We’re back!” Sam called from the top of the stairwell, Dean behind him as he tried to look for any form of surprises for his birthday.
“We’re in the kitchen!” You called back, placing one or two more dishes in the sink before you were met with the sight of the two Winchester boys.
“Happy birthday.” You and Cas told Dean, bodies hiding the jacked up cake from the older man. “Why don’t you sit at the table and we will get started?”
Dean gave you and Cas a quick thank you before following your instructions, Sam made his way over to you. A shopping bag held tightly in both hands. He stopped momentarily in front of the cake, placing the bags onto the counter before facing you completely.
“I thought you said, you and Cas were gonna make a pie?” Sam whispered to you, eyeing the lop-sided cake with curiosity.
“We were,” you whispered back, placing a couple of candles on the cake. “But then we realized half way through that we didn’t know how to make a pie.”
Sam hummed at that, leaning over the counter as he slowly lifted the cake up and towards the table. “And clearly the cake looked a whole lot better than the pie.”
“Better than nothing.”
Making your way to the kitchen table, you placed a small party hat on Deans head. Ruffling his hair briefly before taking a seat, Cas and Sam joining you after lighting the cake.
“Well isn’t that a pretty cake.” Dean joked, swiping a bit of icing onto his finger and in his mouth. “Delicious too.”
“Yeah, well, it was either this or a box of Mac and cheese we’d be singing you happy birthday to.” You told him, swatting his hand back as he tries to get another taste.
“It’s perfect.” He told you, giving a quick thanks to each of you as you all started to sing happy birthday to the older man.
This is what he needed for his birthday, not a big party with some random people he barley knew. No, instead for his birthday he got a cake that was made by the people he loves and a day out with his brother, as Dean just pointed and said he wanted ‘this or that’ for his birthday.
It was truly a day he would remember, for the rest of his life. How ever long or short that may be.
My wife, even better
Summary: Dean can’t stop talking about you, his wife.
Word count: 0.5k
A/n: Not really any use of Y/n, but it is pretty cheesy. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. ;)
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“And she has theses eyes, wow.” Dean let out a sigh, his own eyes practically in the shape of hearts as he continued to talk to the bartender. “I mean, look, if you’ve ever seen them, then you could see all these different shades mixed into one. It’s awesome.”
The bartender just nodded her head, the damp rag moving quickly back and forth on the counter tip. “Mhm.” She hummed, not even listening to what the love struck man was even saying.
“Plus, the way she talks is so beautiful, if I were to listen to one sound the rest of my life it would be her voice.”
“Yep.”
The bartender then turned her back to the man, trying to focus on her work and not on the man that had been rambling on about you since he sat down. With nothing else to do Dean just let his eyes wander through the bar, catching his brother and you talking to a few people about the case that you were working on.
Dean played with his empty beer bottle, watching as the light reflected off the glass. His thoughts wandered over to you, not that they weren’t on you to begin with. But, he thought of how just days ago you were his simple girlfriend, how you and him used to tease and flirt with one another before you were officially together.
And now, now you were Deans forever. Til death do you part, in both sickness and in health. You were his wife, and he was your husband. The thought made a smile drift onto his face and warmth creep up the back of his neck.
“Hey,” You suddenly said from behind the man, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Sam and I have some intel on the case.”
Dean quickly turned back to the bartender in front of him, who had her hands busy with cleaning the glasses and counter for the night. “What did I tell you?” He asked her, dragging her away from her work. “The voice of an angel.”
The bartender gave a quick nod before getting back to work, not even sparring the two a second glance as she walked away. You hit Dean with the back of your hand, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to let him know that he needed to focus.
“I told you to stop that.” You gently scolded, your ears slightly turning pink. “Nobody wants to listen to you talk like that.”
“But, I want to.”
“And that’s amazing, D.” You pulled his hand in yours, giving it a tight squeeze. “But, not everyone wants to hear about our marriage.”
“But, how could I not tell the world about you?”
You gave him a light peck on the cheek, pulling him off the bar stool and towards the exit. “Do you know how cheesy you sound?”
“Very, but I love you.” Dean quietly told you, leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips. “And I want the world know that, my beautiful wife.”
“And I love you, my gorgeous husband.”
Tell me a story
Summary: Dean has trouble sleeping at night
Word count: 0.5k
A/n: I don’t use Y/n at all in this fic, and I am just trying to practice writing. So leave criticism if you want :)
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He felt restless.
He was always moving, always hunting, always fixing something in this messed up world that he lived in. And boy did it tire him out.
Dean was currently sitting in the ‘Dean cave’, an old Adam Sandler movie playing in the background as he tried to doze off. But sleep seemed to drift away from him every time he came close to the internal peace.
He didn’t know what it was that kept him from this nights sleep. He tried all the tricks in the book to help him; warm milk, reading for five minutes an hour, and even shutting off all electronics so that his eyes wouldn’t burn from the blue light. But none of it seemed to work.
Glancing at his watch, he read the time. 2:47am. “God.” Dean muttered to himself, he’d been trying to sleep since 10, and now four hours later he had yet to even come close to sleeping.
A small knock came from the entrance to the cave, facing the noise he saw you standing beside the door frame. An old band T-shirt of Deans and a pair of your shorts were used for your PJs tonight, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you slowly walked into the room.
“Dean?” You questioned, coming to stand in front of him as he never once moved from his spot on the couch.
“Yes, princess?” He asked, sitting up. The blanket he had been using sliding down to the floor, chills slowly creeping up the back of his neck.
“Why are you still up?”
Dean didn’t know if he should sugarcoat his answer or just tell you flat out, because either way he’d know that you’d ask questions either way. He let out a tired sigh, his hand rubbing his face before he answered you. “I couldn’t sleep, haven’t been able to for a couple of hours.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, you’d seen him go to bed hours ago. You’d honestly thought he was well into sleep by the time you had retired to your own room. You’d only been up because you were thirsty, and when you walked past the ‘Dean cave’ you were confused why the TV was on.
Looking over your shoulder at the TV, you saw Happy Gilmore playing. The volume down low enough to not bother the only other sleeping resident in the bunker. You then faced Dean again a tired pout gracing your lips as you stepped in between Deans legs. Both your hands coming to rest in his hair.
“Can I watch the movie with you?” You asked, giving him the best puppy eyes that you could muster.
Dean let out a breathy laugh, his own hands coming to rest on your waist as he pulled you closer to him. “Course, princess.”
Laying back down on the couch, Dean pulled you on top of him, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his steady heart breathing. A deep sigh fell from Deans lips as he pulled you closer to his body, if possible.
With the warm body now on top of him, and light chatter from the TV, Dean slowly felt sleep seeping into his body. That’s all he needed, Dean thought to himself as he listened to your slow breathing. He didn’t need warm milk, or a book to help him fall asleep.
Instead all he needed was his favorite movie and his favorite girl to do the trick.
literally anyone: what is this place
Dean: welcome to my mojo dojo casa house
Two’s company, three’s a family - Part three
Summary : As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn’t get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn’t bring yourself to give them up, not oblivious to the reason.
Pairing : Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).
Parts : First - Previous - Next (coming next week)
Warnings : Reference to "Red Flags" (Tom Cardy), quick s3x mention, non-con touching (not s3xual), depiction of anxiety, foul language, slow burn, english isn’t my first language.
Words : +3k
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The sweet light of a summer day pierced through the branches of the surrounding trees. The sky was unexpectedly blue, and the air was just starting to heat up, tingling your exposed skin. It was so enjoyable; as you basked in the environment, you were almost forgetting your clients.
You were currently sitting on the storefront awning across the cafe where the date was occurring. It was going really well, and their bond was amazing too. It took you six years to find your client's perfect match. You won't deny the fact that you were picky; however, you weren't going to apologise for it either. If your clients had to spend their whole lives with someone, you should at least try not to pair them up with the most infuriating person that God ever made (I'm looking at you, Joey !).
But dang, you had to admit, she was fantastic ! They were literally made for each other. They were so in sync, it was truly adorable. When two people were obviously made for each other, it was your duty to make sure Eternity would welcome both of them. Never to be apart. You rubbed your stretched-skinned right arm.
Ooh, you're going to get so much love from this, your numbers gonna skyrocket...
You send a wave of curiosity your client's way, inciting him to question her more; the more interest he shows in her, the more pleased she'll be. He reached out and rested his hand on hers.
"By the way, do you have a favourite film ?" He asked, eager to see if they also had the same cinematographic tastes. She was so cultured and sophisticated; it was really refreshing to encounter someone of her kind. Yeah, she was one of a kind, alright. Oh, how could you have foreseen what she was about to answer ?
"Oh yes, just basically the best movie of all ! A masterpiece of art, really. You may have heard of it." She was trying to hide just how much she was yearning to scream the name of that movie. Anxious even, for some reason.
"Mmh. Interstellar ?" He tried to guess playfully. But she was jubilant; you knew she wouldn't be able to play along. You frowned, becoming fairly worried, wondering if she would implode.
"Mh-hm ! Wrong !" She giggled, ecstatic. Now you're just scared. You gulped in sync with the client as she stood up and slammed her hands on the metal table. As she exclaimed, finally freed from her own guilt, you thought that some people should have a warning of their own. For the good of society.
"It's Human Centipede !" She clapped and beamed.
Oh, for the love of God... Obviously, your guy was rightfully alarmed since he believed he'd never see his mom again. You left your perch and flew their way; right now, you had to prevent him from running away. Both of your hands settled on his shoulder.
"Custom disguise was truly a highlight, but I mostly liked it for the plot." How can someone so cute fill you with so much dread ? Although your hold was already firm, you couldn't help but twist Arlo's shoulders. Yes, Arlo was his name, but he was closer to Denver, personality-wise.
"I'm not quite familiar with the plot, actually." Oh, you poor unfortunate soul. He didn't know, or maybe he'd rather live in full and hurtful denial his entire life than relive that abominable day when his soul was shattered into a million pieces... Mmh, he probably just didn't know.
"In a nutshell, a German doctor sews three people's asses to their mouths." Her wide brown eyes seemed to belong to the deadliest apex predator. Send help, please. Blinking was out of the question; turn your eyes away for a second, and she'll stab you right in the throat. You darted your eyes towards the butter knife. You exclaimed sharply and miraculously removed it. Better safe than sorry.
You exhaled; you felt so puzzled right now. Every human deserves love, despite having a passion for obscure and particular forms of art. But was this truly the best person for him ? The last thing you wanted was their misery. What if her interests were real signs of psychopathy ? Of future abuse ? She didn't give the impression of abusive behaviour.
You squinted your eyes and started analysing her heart through your own. Contrary to humans, your heart was nested in the very centre of your chest and could be used as a filter. Usually you'd pick up the scent—yes, every emotion had a smell, and thankfully it was faint when you weren't using your heart—guide it towards your chest, and find what you were looking for. Your heart is a great multi-function machine and an amazing tool to achieve your goals; you were thankful for it.
A relieved sigh passed your lips when you didn't sense any brutality or cruelty. And what you felt was passion, ambition, eagerness to start something new, quite a bit of lust, and straight-up horniness.
Mmh, you had to admit that this demon of lust was a talented lad.
"The narrative of character growth comes from a genius mind ! The Human Centipede is a wonderful tour de force; you should watch it. Or, we could watch it together, and I'll show all the little details."
You rolled your eyes and smirked. She was just quirky, but she was looking forward to hitting it off with him. But, still, you wanted it to be his choice; you wouldn't force someone into a relationship and spend eternity with someone they didn't belong with. But it might be the only true relationship they will ever have. You looked over to him and were honestly surprised to see him blush and watch her with such attention. Alright. You shrugged. His mind was sent.
You nodded, even though you knew he couldn't see you. You flew away, leaving enough distance to let them take off themselves. You stretched your arm, aimed, and silently hoped it was not morbid curiosity on his part. And finally shot.
Yay ! Right in our hearts!
Nice shot; you praised yourself.
They flinched and smiled brightly. The deal is sealed. Suddenly, the clocks in the watchmaker store struck eleven a.m. You struggle to swallow. Alright, here goes nothing.
You went down to the street corner and called out the invisibility spell. You walked casually through the street but couldn't help but overhear the lovebirds conversation.
"My dream wedding would 100% be themed "Human Centipede"." She laughed so joyfully. Everyone around was looking so distraught but didn't dare say anything. Mmh.
"That would be so cool! Imagine just how much we could save on the catering bill." He burst out in laughter; it was hilarious.
And that's another wedding you will not attend. Thank God they weren't in your department anymore.
Good luck with that, Adriel...
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You had arrived before Aziraphale, so you would have time to report to Chamuel. Yep, the Archangel of Love himself. No pressure... You weren't the same rank as Aziraphale; he was a Principality. You ? You were under the order of a Principality. Jophiel, to be exact. So meeting up with the Archangel was a big deal.
You rode the escalator while poking random fingers on your chest to calm your nerves and erase all of your emotions. You hoped they wouldn't notice the change. You hoped Chamuel didn't show up during the reunion concerning the Anti-Christ. You hoped that everything would be alright.
You exhaled for a long time, entering the endless building of light. Steadily, you made your way towards your bosses. Impassive. Calm. You spotted Chamuel and your principality, and you stopped a few feet away.
"Hello Y/N ! How are you today ?" What a dashing smile he had—too white to be human. His deep green eyes were scanning your own. His attention was nerve-wracking.
"I am fine; thank you, Chamuel." Your tone was as neutral as you could manage. Your posture was rigid, trying to stay as still as possible.
"I too hope you two are doing well."
"We are, thank you... Now, how's your heart ? Has it caused you any problems ?" His pale hand suddenly patted your mid-chest, too rough for your liking. You flinched but didn't dare say anything. Mmh. Behind him, Jophiel was looking at you up and down, keeping her distance. She still gave you a brief, tight smile.
"I am fine, thank you." You sounded straight-up robotic.
"Good !" He clapped his hands together and shook them. He took his place beside the dark-blond angel, his vivid blond hair harmonising with hers.
"Your recent results have been quite impressive, Y/N. Very good fuel for the upcoming war". Jophiel praised you while never fully looking your way.
You simply bowed your head, despite how geedy you actually felt. She didn't praise a lot, so you were delighted.
"Even from just a few minutes ago ! You are doing an excellent job. I appreciate the constant flow of love; it almost keeps the Bound together." He laughed heartily. You bowed your head again; you knew he didn't mean it.
The Bound is what holds everything together. Literaly everything. Earth, humans, animals ect. And Love is the fuel it needs to thrive. But when Armageddon starts, all cupids shall stop the love, let the Bound unfold, and fight along side the other angels, filled with the... ugh, power of Love. So cheesy... Help.
"Our sources have also confirmed the punishment of two demons who were prohibited from working on Earth for the remaining years; great job ! The least nuisance in the way, the better.."
Despite his sinister aura, he did appreciate your work. You just couldn't bring yourself to be happy about it.
"Now !" He slapped his hand on your shoulder and made you turn around. You grunted quietly. "I believe you must attend another meeting, right? I wouldn't want you to be late. Go on." He pushed you forward, and you had to catch yourself before reuniting with the floor.
"So... Darachiel and Requiel are up next..." Jophiel said it absent-mindedly, already forgetting your encounter.
Brief and concise, exactly what you prayed for. As you were leaving, you passed Darachiel and Requiel, on their way to their report. They observed you from afar, doing their best not to get too close to you. You just stared right in front of you. You didn't want to hear their gossip. It was almost as if their mouths had only been designed to talk behind your back. You teeth clenched. Focus.
You'll just have to deal with three more archangels, convince them the boy is turning into a saint, and hope they will not mention your role as a cupid. It didn't really bother me that Azirphale and Crowley might find out about your job; it's just that you were quite... private and wanted to make sure they wouldn't realise what your mission was. Be cautious.
You didn't want to lie to them. You sighed. Nevertheless, you comforted yourself, remembering that you wouldn't be alone against them.
Still, your heart echoed through your ears; the drumming was hurting your ribs and chest, like every fibre of your bones wanted to crawl their way out of your throat. You kept walking. Your breath was laboured, and your eyes were watering, blurring the awful images that rolled before you. Your gaze fell down, shielding yourself from the memories and those fucking intrusive fights. Mmh..
"Y/N ?"
The sweetest feather touch grazed your forearm, the concerned voice abruptly grounding you back into the dazzling reality of Heaven. Lost, you revolved slowly, and your pleading eyes searched for reassurance.
"Oh, Y/N..." Aziraphale whispered softly to not startle you.
"I'm sorry, I just.. I've never..-" You had to hold back a sob. The blond shushed, caressing the side of your arms.
"I know, dear... It's a lot." He smiled at you, tender. He delicately lifted your chin to meet your eyes. "But I'm right beside you; you won't have to face them on your own. You are the most intrepid angel I've met; you will blow us all away!" He jested.
"Mmh." You gave him a sheepish smile for an answer.
"Come now." He gestured forward into the meeting zone, not touching you. He walked beside you. "It's going to be just fine. I must confess, I've fooled them quite a lot before." His confession caused me to smirk as well.
Angel ? No, he was quite devilish, alright.
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"Mmh..." Aziraphale moaned, his mouth full of cream. You never thought you could bless someone through your Parfait. Your recipe was Aziraphale's favourite dessert, which he desperately tried to copy but could never get right.
Your afternoon was spent at Aziraphale's bookshop, sitting cross-legged on the comfiest couch, reading your latest acquisition. The anxiety was slowly draining its way out your veins. You turned another page and smiled softly. You have loved astronomy ever since you were created. You didn't have as much knowledge about space as Crowley, but the beauty enticed you so much that you couldn't help but be saddened by its upcoming destruction. You also cooked for the angel to really thank him.
"It's truly fantastic, Y/N." He took another spoonful. "You're sure you don’t want to share your secret ? Confess and feel even better." He teased.
"Confess, huh ? I should rather put a copyright on my recipe, you little thief."
Eden, thankfully on your side, was pushing Aziraphale's thigh, sticking her tongue out to get a lick.
"No, Eden, we were not talking about you- No !" He lifted his arm way up. If he thought it would stop your mini cow, he was deeply mistaken. She put all her efforts into her desperate attempt to steal the sweet, climbing on his leg. Aziraphale made a muffled squeal; Eden had her hooves digging in his flesh.
"Help..." He begged in a strained voice.
You giggled and got up. You took your time, really, dusting a shelf and bouncing quickly on your left leg. His eyes were almost stern as he observed your smug face. You waited a few seconds. You smiled innocently, petted Eden's head, and snatched the glass from his hand.
"Oh ! Y/N !" Alright, that gasp was just comical. Your lips let out a joyful giggle, and you jogged away, tasting the dessert with your fingertip.
"Mh.. Yum ! What a talented cook I am." You contemplated your work. Still, you saw the two hungry fellas in the corner of your eye. Too emotionally drained to play, you turned around and handed back the dessert.
"Thank you." He shook his head but smiled gratefully.
Eden nudged your right arm, demanding a treat as well. As you tossed it to her, you spotted Aziraphale stare your way. You stared back, confused. Caught in the act, he didn't back down and directly asked you what was on his mind.
"Did you hurt your arm ? I never noticed that scar before."
Oh.
You looked down your right arm and saw the tiniest bit of scar sneaking out of your pulled-up sleeve. You covered it back down.
You never thought he would notice that.
"I got cut by a demon claw. It never really healed properly."
"Maybe I could help... Let me see." He reached for your arm. You didn't mean to flinch, but still, you backed away.
"It's okay, Aziraphale. Really, it's fine."
You were charging your charm to chase him off, but the door suddenly burst open, and Crowley entered like he owned the place. He noticed the two of you, and his face went stolid. The three of you stood here for a minute or two before the angel broke the weird silence.
"Hello Crowley, How was your day ?"
The demon found his scrunched expression back.
"Awful. As expected... Some people just apparently can't believe that humans can be bad enough to end up in hell without having to be murderers! Ugh."
He sat nonchalantly on his designated chair and went limp to try and get rid of all of his frustration. He hated having to visit Hell, as one could understand. He didn't belong there. You don’t belong anywhere. You cringed. Mmh. He weakly waved in your direction.
"How about you guys ?" He hummed.
"Mmh, well, Azi' will tell you. I should get going !" You forced a smile and reached for Eden, petting her to calm her. You felt Aziraphale's eyes on you while Crowley tensed up slightly.
"Already ? Have I scared you away or something ?" He asked.
"Oh, don't be silly, Crowley; of course not ! Eden's tired; I've got to put her to bed."
"Well, can't she use the backroom- ?"
"Oh, by the way." Whoosh, quick, unnoticeable charm. "Here ! I finished it !" You threw your book on his lap, earning a grunt. "I hope you'll show me a real one day." The suggestion was true, but you knew it wouldn't happen. You didn't have the right to. Mmh.
"Bye bye ! Smooches !" You sang your way out of the bookshop under the concerned and puzzled looks of your clients.
You waited until you were around the corner before finally collapsing against the facade. Overwhelming—yeah, that's the perfect word to summarise your day. You brought your hands up to your head and rubbed your face. What am I so upset about? Why was your heart aching, burning your skin away? Why did their stares and comments feel like daggers in your back? You just wish you weren't alone. The light did nothing to warm up your frozen face as tears threatened to roll down. Mmh...
No... you didn't want to go back to this... You just couldn't.
The firm grip you had on your shirt snatched a bit of skin and twisted it. It had at least the benefit of shaking you enough to act.
You exhaled sharply and slapped your own cheek to knock some sense into yourself. You have no time. Eden was still rubbing her head on your leg when you bent down to kiss her forehead.
You straightened up, activated your blindness spell, and manifested your bow and arrows. Taking off from the ground and positioning yourself to get a good view of your clients You aimed with your right arm and lined up. Your breath was taken away by the glimpse of a scar that shone in the disappearing sun. You frowned, growled, and struck. Upper arms.
Alright, now shit was about to get real.
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I guess we all have to learn about our own back story, right Y/N ?
Anyway ! I promise we will see more of the ineffable husbands in the next part. You just needed a little bit of time for yourself.
Hope you enjoyed it ! Bye !
Parts : First - Previous - Next (coming next week)
Tag list : @legendary-maddie @kpop-athena @drugs-for-memes @emo-queer-boi @cunning-girl @mochikofi @brain-has-left @cup-of-tee007 @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @somekale08 @liyacreate @msyolocat-blog
Again, Anthony J. Crowley x Male Reader
Another life.
A/N: This is an angst post, so no happy ending. Sorry not sorry (⌒‐⌒)
Enjoy!
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It was never meant to turn out this way. Hell thought it was a grand idea. He'd tricked a human into falling in love with him. It was brilliant and got another soul downstairs! Only, he hadn't tricked you into anything. He'd actually fallen in love with you too. With you as a demon, despite how much he thought you deserved better, meant you could always be together. And then Heaven intervened. An angel had caught wind of this whole ordeal and got angry. That was a low blow, even for a demon. So even in eternal damnation, Crowley was punished once more.
The angle cast the 'gift' of infinite reincarnation upon you. It would be great, if only you kept your memories. But you didn't. Each new life you were born into was just that. New. But that wasn't the worst part. Not for poor Crowley. His punishment that tied into this was that in each new life of yours, you'd meet again. And each and every time, you'd fall in love with him. And each and every time, he got to watch your death. It was horrible. In his opinion, this was worse than you ever getting sent to hell. Like this, you never got to rest or reflect. It was just life, over and over again. A never ending cycle that you didn't deserve.
He blamed himself. He tried countless times to make a miracle of his own to save you from this punishment. But nothing ever worked. Once, he tried to go to Aziraphale for help. To no avail of course. He expected as such though. At some point, he attempted to make you hate him. Or pretend to hate you. So that you'd just leave him alone for the rest of whatever lifespan you had. That worked a few times. The guilt he felt afterwards never went away. His heart lurched at every reincarnation of yours he met. Your age and gender varried from time to time. How old you were when you met him. Sometimes you were just a kid who bumped into him by accident. Sometimes you were an elder who needed his help crossing the street soundly.
Man or woman, it was always you. Unmistakably, you. Your name never changed. Or that look in your eyes you got each time you fell in love with him. He'd lost count of how many times you were reborn by now. For while, he did keep track. But that only added to the pain, so he stopped. Somewhere along the lines he tried to go to his head office about all of this. As a desperate final attempt to put this to a stop. His plea was that with you stuck in eternal life, you could never come join Hell. Sure, it convinced them. Mostly. Not a whole lot of the Dark Council cared all that much. He made a fair point, but whatever they tried didn't work either.
You were the reason he hated the 14th century. Because that was when you met him for the first time. The first time you fell in love with each other. He hated thinking about it. About you. How if he had just left you alone, then you would have never been subjected to this cycle. And neither would he. It started again today. You met him. It was the usual age, the same as the very first time you met. You were male, too. Just like the first time. This time though, was when of the few that he saw you first. That should have given him the opportunity to run away, or miracle you to a different location. Something, anything. But he didn't. He froze in his place. It had been over twenty years since he last saw you.
You were just as handsome as you'd always been. And you staring at his Bentley. On the sidewalk with a look of awe upon your face. Like you'd never seen a vintage car before. Or you were happy to see another. For a split second, everything around you turned white. You stayed same, and you looked just as you did back in the fourteenth century. With a blink, the world returned to normal. Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. As if he may throw up or like he'd been dammed again. He'd long forgotten what he was going to his car for in the first place. His plans or general train of thought completely vanished. He couldn't do this. Not another life. Not for the umpteenth time.
Somehow though, his feet miraculously began to move. In his usual sassy saunter, he approached the car. "Can I help you?" He spoke rather dryly, holding a dull expression behind his sunglasses. He startled you a bit, and you quickly snap your head to the side to look at him. A big, but awkward smile pulled on your lips. "Oh, uhm! Sorry, is this your car?" He lazily quirked an eyebrow as you pointed at the Bentley, as if it weren't obvious enough which car you were talking about. "'Tis. Why?" He questions as he tilts his head back slightly. As stoic and irritated as he may seem, on the inside he was truly hurting. Screaming, crying, getting so worked up that lightening struck him.
You gaze returned to the car, your smile turning softer and more genuine. "That's so cool. I love vintage cars. I didn't think anyone in London actually drove them anymore" A tiny scoff of what could have been amusement escaped him. You never failed to make him fall just a little deeper in love with every interaction you had. Even if you never remember it. He did, that's what mattered. "Oh sorry, how impolite of me," your gaze returns to him "I completely forgot to introduce myself. I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Mr...?" You trail off, waiting for him to finish the sentence for you.
"Crowley."