*staring at castiel*


Destiel + Prolonged Eye Contact

Bonus (the longest eye contact to ever happen):

12 x 06 CODA

Dean brings Cas to the next hunter gathering.

Fortunately, this one isn’t a wake. It’s just a party, an actual celebration, hunters getting together to tell tall tales and drink, to dance and hook up, to spend an evening in the company of people who get it.

He pulls Cas to a group he remembers from Asa’s funeral, all leather jackets and beards and gunpowder lingering on their skin.

“Dean Winchester,” one of them hollers, raising his beer bottle in salute. “Good to see you again.”

“Good to be here, man.” It’s still strange to have everyone looking at him like he’s some sort of celebrity, and he’s caught once again between embarrassment and pride. “This is Cas,” he continues.

Cas nods politely, but his smile drops when he sees the wide-eyed stares.

“Cas? As in Castiel?” One of the men asks.

“That’s right,” Cas says hesitantly, and Dean tenses, wondering what the reaction is going to be.

A slow and easy smile spreads over the face of the man who seems to be the leader of the group. “So this is your angel. Welcome to the club. Grab a drink.”

Dean huffs a sigh of relief, and they spend the rest of the evening having more fun than Dean can remember having in a long time.

When they get to the motel later that night, still a full day’s drive from the bunker, Cas doesn’t follow him into the room.

“What is it, Cas?”

“Nothing.” But he shifts his weight and stares at the ground, mouth opening, then closing again as he changes his mind.

“Talk to me,” Dean says, setting his bag on the hood of the car and giving Cas his full attention.

“Was that man correct tonight? Am I your angel?”

Dean isn’t expecting that question. He stares at Cas for a moment as his mind races.

Truthfully, those words have been echoing in his mind since the man said them. All night, as he joked and laughed with the other hunters, he had been too aware of Cas next to him, a magnet that moved when he moved, that pulled him back if he wandered too far.

And isn’t that the way it had always been? Haven’t they both sacrificed everything for each other over and over again? Wouldn’t they both die for the other in a heartbeat? And even if he’s never admitted it out loud before, Dean always feels better, more whole somehow, when Cas is there with him.

Dean thinks about the other hunters, how they never hesitate to grab love and connection where they can get it, how they say what they mean every moment of the day and never hold back affection, how they know that every second might be the last one, that there is no “maybe someday”.

Dean’s getting old enough that he knows “maybe someday” probably won’t ever come.

And in that moment, he doesn’t want to miss any more chances.

“Yeah, Cas,” he says, voice a little thick and nervous. “I guess you are.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, but those blue eyes have never looked so bright, and that goddamn smile of his shines through Dean with so much warmth he can’t stand it.

“C’mon.” Dean heads for the motel room, knowing that Cas, his angel, is right behind him

Imagine you're the "little sister" of Team Free Will, and they take you shopping when they notice older men checking you out.

“I can’t believe you got us kicked out!” you exclaimed as the doors behind you closed. “You can’t just fight every battle! I never even got any clothes!”

“Yeah, and the old man checking you out was practically taking what little clothes you have on off with his eyes!” Dean hissed before snapping the thin line of your spaghetti strap against your shoulder.


Sam, whose face was still contorted in anger, sighed. “We’ll go to a different store.”

You stopped dead in your tracks without a single warning. Luckily for you, the two men and angel piled on top of each other instead on to you. “No. Hell, no! I’m letting Charlie take me, because you three just beat a stranger to a pulp because he was staring at me!”

“Inappropriately,” Castiel added.

“I don’t care. Just get in the car." The backdoor to the Impala slammed shut as Team Free Will stared at the car and back to the store guiltily. With a shrug, they scrambled into Dean’s prized possession where they continued to rant on and on, throwing in random apologies here and there. You, on the other hand, boiled in anger silently. Damn overprotective brothers.

“When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!”

Castiel stared at her, and remembered.

He remembered the pain of the acidic air on his wings. He had stabbed and shoved his way through the demons, wading through blood and bodies of his fallen kin. It was far from angelic, farther from than anything he had ever done before.

The air ahead of him cleared and he saw him. A spark of doubt lit in him. This snarling, bloody demon was the righteous man?

The thing turned from the tormented soul at his feet and Castiel stared straight into his eyes, flickering between black and bright green, like they weren’t sure whether their owner was human or something else entirely. Castiel straightened. There was still hope. He strode forward and reached for Dean Winchester’s shoulder. The man roared wordlessly at him and raised his blood caked whip, but Castiel was faster.

His hand fastened on Dean’s shoulder and inside his head, the world exploded. In his mind’s eye was a churning ball of light and colour. It flashed and writhed furiously. Parts of it surged up and out, blazing with green-gold-orange-white before dropping down again. Strangely, they reminded him of solar flares. Blackened cracks marred the surface, but they couldn’t block the intensity of that light. He observed it with something akin to wonder. How could anything trapped in this place for so long still be beautiful?

He reached out a hand -his real hand, not the one of his vessel- and touched Dean Winchester’s soul. He gripped it tight.

Castiel remembered, and decided that when he had first laid a hand on Dean he wasn’t lost. He was found.

Guardian Angel

Word Count: 2,707

A/N: I have never written anything like this. I’m not even sure what to call it. What I can explain, though, is what it’s about. In this, Castiel is the readers assigned guardian angel. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you like this style of storytelling~

“She will be taken from you. You must know that?” Michael stared at his brother.

Castiel gave no response.

“Do not get too close to her, brother. I fear you may lose her completely if you do.” He spoke while staring out over the clouds.

~You were four when you first scraped your knees on the concrete. It was a hot and humid day, the sun had been in your eye. Laughter bubbled out from your lips, seconds later followed by a rush of crimson blood staining your skin. Your mother cried out, hustling you into her arms.

“Stay here.” She brought you inside the house, plopping you down on the counter top. Nearly five minutes had passed before she came back with a bandage, only to find your skin completely healed.

Her eyes wandered over you. “Honey, did you wash your knees?”

You nodded an enthusiastic no, causing your hair to fly around your face. She immediately picked you up, holding you close to her as if you would disappear if she didn’t.

“So, how did you get clean?”

You shrugged as high as your little shoulders allowed, keeping the man who came to fix you a secret.

~Rain pattered against the roof. You curled further up into your bed, clutching the blankets. With your parents fast asleep, you felt vulnerable.

“It is just water.” A familiar voice spoke. You peeked out from under your sheets.

“It’s loud.” You whispered. He smiled at you and pulled out a book from your shelf. Staring at the cover you nodded fervently. As he read, your eyes fluttered shut.

“Goodnight, Cassie.” You whispered out a child’s version of Castiel.

“Cassie?” He questioned his new nickname. You were already asleep.

~Castiel remembered your tenth birthday well. Besides for every near-accident he guided you away from until then, this day was a tragedy in itself.

Candles littered your birthday cake in a beautiful design. You huffed and puffed away at them, celebrating by yourself. Of course, you hadn’t known that Castiel was standing next to you. It was that moment when two police officers came banging at your door. The smoke from the last candle rose to the ceiling as you ran towards the noise.

“Who’s there?” Your fearless voice asked.

The two men forced the door open to find themselves staring at a young girl.

“Hey, there.” One of them crouched down. “Are you Y/N?” He asked. You nodded.

He looked up at the other officer then back at you, “Do you have any aunts or uncles in town?”

Castiel nearly showed himself in that moment, wanting nothing but to protect you from the news you were about to hear.

Scrunching up your nose, you shook your head. “I dunno.” You combined your words, “Where’s my mom?”

The officer who stood, spoke into his receiver, “Yeah, we got her. We’ll bring her to the precinct while we find her a guardian.”

~A month later, you remained inconsolable. Castiel was by your side every night, his presence holding you tight.

“It’s not fair!” You would cry. Tears streamed down your face as you imagined what had happened to your parents. You couldn’t understand how it could have been wolves. There had to have been a mistake, you thought.

~After that year, you gave up celebrating your birthday all together. Perhaps it was cursed; you didn’t want to take the chance of getting hurt again.

Castiel didn’t understand humans that well, but he had been watching them celebrate birthdays since the dawn of time. So if you weren’t going to, he would. Every year, he would leave a gift for you. Happy with the presents, you never questioned them.

By the time you were sixteen, you had a wonderful collection of every electronic out there. Castiel would leave an iPod one year, and a new phone the next. He knew you loved music. For years you would drown yourself in the loud sounds, thinking of absolutely nothing.

~It wasn’t until you were eighteen that Castiel showed himself to you again. Suddenly, the man who healed your every scratch, returned. Some part of you forgot about him, believing him to be a figment of your childhood imagination, but another knew it was him watching over you all this time. So, as you lay on the ground, hot blood pumping out from your side, tears streamed down your face.

“I know you.” You whispered, looking up at his frantic blue eyes. He got to work quickly, holding your broken skin between his hands that were glowing with a bright light.

“How could you throw yourself into danger like that?” His deep voice asked. He lifted your head onto his lap and you let out a wrangled laugh of relief. It was that voice that you remembered suddenly, which used to read stories to you when your parents were gone for three, four days at a time. You were so focused on staring at him that you hadn’t noticed that you no longer felt pain.

He lifted you up into his arms and carried you out from the werewolves’ den. Your gun hung loosely from your fingertips.

“I found them.” You said softly to him. “I waited eight years for this.” Mid-sentence, you were whisked away from the night’s cold air, and into the warmth of your bed sheets.

~Two years had gone by. Slowly, you became accustomed to Castiel’s presence. Every month or so, when a hunt would go worse than expected, he would be by your side.

You had so many questions for him, but he never spoke much. When the rare occasion did arise in which he tried to give you some advice, or console you, you willed him to continue speaking. His voice became a place of comfort; a new home.

This time, you weren’t going to let him slip away. Sitting on the creaking motel bed, you locked eyes with him.

“Don’t leave.” You whispered right before you knew he would disappear. He tilted his head at you. Never before had you asked something of him.

“I must go, Y/N.” He said your name for the first time. It sounded like honey from his lips.

“Please.” You begged, “I don’t want to be alone.”

He looked conflicted. “I-”

“Just stay for five minutes.” You interrupted him. The possibility of being taken from you turned in his mind. He had seen it happen to his brothers and sisters. They had gotten too close to a charge, and reassigned. He never understood why they would take the risk until he was assigned to you.

Slowly, he stepped closer to you in agreement. The bed dipped as he sat down, awkwardly at that.

“You don’t get out much do you?” You lay your back the bed, keeping your feet planted on the floor.

He turned to look at you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I get the whole angel thing. I may be new to hunting, but I get how it works. But whenever you’re here, you never stay.” You rubbed your face with your hands. “Do you not like that you were assigned to me?”

Castiel clenched his jaw. His hands remained clasped on his lap, although he found himself fidgeting his thumbs. Considering he knew every language known to man, he could not formulate a sentence to explain to you just how wrong you were. He settled for something simple.

“It is the contrary.” Then disappeared. Just like that, your bed felt cool once again, and you rolled over to where he was just seated.

~For the next couple of months, Castiel had not showed himself to you again. Instead, you found that your bruises would heal overnight. Some part of you hated him for not visiting you, yet another part felt safe knowing he was with you at night. It was a constant battle in your mind towards the angel.

For weeks you continued to wonder what he had meant, that night when he sat with you. Even when he did begin visiting you again, he never spoke of it. For some reason, neither did you.

~“When was the last time that you ate?” Castiel nudged your plate closer to you. You shrugged, feeling nothing but pain boiling under your skin. Burns covered your chest and stomach.

“Then let me heal you.” Castiel saw the damaged flesh peeking out from under your shirt.

“I did this to myself!” You exclaimed suddenly. “Why should you have to worry?”

Castiel stared at you, “You really feel as if you are burdening me?”

You nodded slowly. “I always get myself hurt, and you always….you’re always there. Aren’t you tired of me?”

“Never.” He replied, “I will never get tired of you, Y/N.” Gingerly, he reached his hand forward, and gripped yours. A warm flush went over you, dissipating all the pain.

You looked up at him and reached for your plate.

~Castiel’s chest began to hurt with a pain he had never felt before. It was loss; a realization that he had lost something so close to him. Suddenly, it became hard for him to function.

“No.” He whispered to himself, over and over again like a mantra.

He could no longer hear your thoughts.

He could no longer sense your location.

Everything burned inside of him. All he wanted to do was scream your name until you answered.

~”I’ve been what?” You stared into the eyes of a new angel.

He stepped closer to you and you stepped back, nearly tripping over bedframe.

“You have been reassigned.” The nameless angel repeated for what seemed like the twelfth time.

“Where is Castiel?” You said his full name outloud for the first time. “What did you do wi-”

He cleared his throat. “You have just exemplified why he had been reassigned.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You began to shout.

“You cannot speak to me using such terms.”

“What are you talking about?!” You began to shout even louder, frustrated.

“Castiel may have led you to believe the two of you were equals, but you are not. He had become too close to you, therefore his rights to guardianship have been revoked.” He explained.

Since you found out that werewolves had taken out your parents, rage like this had never taken over you.

“Get out.” You commanded.

“I’m sorry?” He asked as if you needed to clarify.

“I don’t want you. I don’t want any of this. Get out.” You kicked the chair by your feet towards the angel. Before you could lift up the lamp from the nightstand, he disappeared.

For the rest of the night, you prayed. You never had to before…somehow Castiel always knew when you wanted him near. But now, it felt like speaking to a wall.

~With each passing month, the ache grew stronger. Whether it was someone walking down the street who looked like you, or knowing that your birthday had passed - Cas stopped whatever he was doing. He once shoved a man aside, thinking he saw the back of your head in a crowd, only to be met with an unfamiliar face.

~For you, the pain was dealt with differently. Every couple of weeks, a new angel would be assigned to you. Each one, was removed and replaced rather quickly.

The angel who first told you the news, you physically beat. Anger overtook you and punches went flying.

The second, you completely ignored. After a specifically dangerous hunt, in which you fell into a trap, huge gashes were left running down your thighs. She pleaded with you, saying it was her responsibility, but her words didn’t mean much to you. Castiel would show up on his own, before and after a hunt. She came out of duty. You knew she didn’t care.

After the sixth angel, you became exhausted of the same back and forth game. Years went by and you grew tired. By the time you were twenty seven, you refused a guardian angel all together.

~”Back already?” You raised a brow at Sam who shrugged. Six months ago you hunted with them by recommendation of a mutual friend. Ever since then, you’ve been inseparable from the Winchesters.

“Did you get any chips?” You began rummaging through his shopping bags.

“Like I could forget.” He smiled, shoving his phone full towards you. “I think that’s the twentieth text reminding me.”

Smiling, you opened the bag and rolled over the edges. “What about Dean?”

“What about him?” He began filling up a glass of water.

“He’s gonna be so pissed you forgot to buy beer.” You smiled, watching Sam’s back stiffen at the realization. He gulped down his glass of water and you tossed him the car keys, “Run, Winchester, run!”

~Sometimes, more often than not, you tried remembering Castiel’s voice. How he would read you bedtime stories as a kid, scrunching up his nose when he couldn’t understand why the wolf wanted to blow down what he called: the ‘perfectly constructed houses’. You pulled the blanket up higher on yourself, staring at the wall. You realized, with each passing week, you began to forget how his presence felt around you. Unable to hide your emotions from the Winchesters for too long, Dean once commented on how you occasionally looked lost. He then, offered you a drink.

~It’s a funny thing how timing works. Always either good or bad, there is never really an in between. For Castiel, it was always bad – although he didn’t know it.

Whenever he came to Sam and Dean, you were always out. Either on an errand, or fast asleep somewhere else in the bunker. Castiel knew that they had a new hunting partner, but never felt the need to question further of their identity. The brothers never stuck with someone for too long.

~Your alarm clock rang obnoxiously, tearing through whatever dream you didn’t want to wake up from. Rolling over, you slammed the button and began to sit up. Usually, you could hear Sam watching the news or Dean slamming pots in the kitchen. This morning, it was unusually quiet. You weren’t one to complain.

Your shorts became damp from leaning over the sink as you stared at your reflection. Running your hands under the faucet, you raised a decent amount of water to your face. As the cool droplets ran down your neck, you reached for a towel and dried yourself off.

“What are you talking about?” You heard a deep voice ask. As you listened closer, you realized a very intense conversation was echoing into the halls. Quietly, you slid out from the bathroom and made your way towards the library.

Sam and Dean faced you; both of them tried to speak to whoever was there in unison.

“What’s going on?” You asked, looking into the War room.

~Human senses were one thing that Castiel could never truly experience. Yet, there was no doubt in his mind that chills ran up his spine. He turned around slowly and stared at you.

You were older, he could tell by your eyes. Cas didn’t need to see any other part of you.

“Cassie!” You exclaimed before letting your feet off the ground. You ran past the dozen chairs and down the steps, flinging yourself at him.

You jumped on him and wrapped your arms around his torso, while linking your ankles around his hips. His arms held you tight to him as Sam and Dean stared in bewilderment.

Dean cleared his throat loudly. You jumped down from Castiel with the largest smile the brothers had ever seen, plastered on your face.

“Care to explain?” Dean’s finger motioned between the two of you. Ignoring him, you turned to Castiel, beaming.

“They tried! They tried to give me new angels! Every month!” You exclaimed and he raised his brows at you. “But I kicked out every single one!”

For that, you earned a laugh. You had never heard him laugh before.

“Please don’t leave again.” You looked up at his blue eyes. “Promise me you won’t.”

“I promise you.” He gripped your hand. All the scars you had that remained unhealed by the trial angels, suddenly rose from your skin in a familiar light.


fake exes au, based on prompt #4

An autumnal wind runs rampant through the suburbs of Lawrence, it’s persistent chill having chased people off the streets and into their homes for the night. Road after road is isolated, inhabited solely by scattered leaves and the shadows of lamp posts cast by their own light.

In the darkness of a dimly-lit residential cul-de-sac, however, three figures stand, conspiring.

The air smells crisp, rife with possibility and, in Castiel’s opinion, inevitable regret.

“C’mon, Clarence. You aren’t getting cold feet, are you?” Meg asks, lips turned up smugly at the corners, joint dangling from her fingertips.

Castiel balls his fists deep in the pockets of his trench coat. “No.”

“Good,” Meg smirks. “Balthazar, give the boy his weapons.”

Her partner in crime does as he is bid, placing them into Castiel’s trembling, awaiting hands. “Make them worth it, Cassie,” he says.  

Castiel stares at the carton of eggs now in his possession, and feels his apprehension in the quickening of his pulse. “Is this really necessary?”

Meg shrugs. “No, of course not. You know the rules of ‘Would You Rather.’ You can change your mind if you wanna.” She holds up the joint in offering, her free hand rummaging in her jacket pocket for a lighter.

Keep reading

Full of Grace

Requested by @bkwrm523: A smutty Cas x reader fic where Cas teases you with his grace while you’re in public.

Word Count 1660ish

Warning: grace!kink, smut

A/N: Thanks for this request, I have missed writing Cas! Hope you enjoy it! XOXO

It was a warm tingle, so light that it seemed like it should have tickled, but it didn’t. It was just pure electric heat sliding over your skin and somehow making your cells come more alive than they already were.

“Wow,” you breathed, opening your eyes to stare into Castiel’s bright blue ones.

Keep reading

Torture (Pt. One)

Pairing: Castiel x reader
Summary: Castiel tortured the reader almost to death and when she finally recovers, she tracks him down and decides to settle the score. This will be a multiple part story, with lots of angst and violence and eventual smut.
Warnings: blood, angst, torture, violence, Cas is kind of a prick, language, mentions of smut here (there’ll be some later on don’t worry) and i think that’s it.



The shackles made clinging noises against the concrete wall as you wiggled around at the contact of an angel blade being dragged through your skin along your abdomen, a wale escaped your lips as pain wrecked through your body. Your breath grew even heavier as the blade left your body. You felt the blood trickle down your side to match the blood that covered the rest of your body.

Castiel stared at you emotionless as you struggled, the angel blade dangling in his palm. “These are exceptionally painful for angels, I can’t imagine how they feel for a fragile little human such as yourself.”

You glowered at him, but remained quiet.

He tasked you, “Why so quiet? You’ve been quite talkative up until this point.

“Go fuck yourself.” you rasped lowly.

He showed little emotion, dropping the angel blade on the table behind him before leaning his backside against it. He crossed his arms, acknowledging your restrained frame.

Your skin on your face felt tight under the caked blood on your face, your features were swollen all over your body from the constant torture, your clothes ripped everywhere, and you were so goddamn hungry you couldn’t stand it. You’d been tied up for days on end, being tortured for information relating to an enemy of Castiel and the Winchesters, who both stood behind Castiel standing firmly.

You had been quiet aside from witty and snarky remarks, mostly because you honestly knew nothing; but they weren’t buying it.

Castiel stormed up to you, grabbing your face roughly, “This could end, but you have to talk,” he growled. “I’m almost obligated to turn this up a notch.”

You chuckled humorlessly, “Go ahead,” you challenged and he raised his eyebrows slightly, a little shocked. “That’s the thing about round-the-clock torture, you can’t really step up from that.”

He released you and stepped back, “Hm,” he cooed. “I guess we leave her.”

“Cas, we can’t just—”

“Dean, she’s already passed saving. Eventually she’ll either bleed out or starve, either way she’s done for.” Cas interrupted. “If she knew anything, she wouldn’t have let us torture to near death. No one can take this much pain for days on end.”

Sam shrugged, “He’s not wrong.”

You shook your head, laughing dryly, “I’m warning you, Cassie, you better kill
me now,” you said. “Don’t leave me here.”

“Or what?” he inquired.

You rested your head against the wall, studying the trio. Your breathing ridged as you stood there in pain. “Because I will find you,” you assured. “And I’ll kill you.”

Castiel looked intrigued as he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head at you. He took a step forward grabbing your face once more, not any less gentle than before. Amusement flashed in his eyes as he spoke, “Will you,” he said, “girl?

He tone sent sparks through your whole body, a feeling in your stomach erupting. His authoritative tone mixed with the nickname was enough to arouse you which annoyed you while exciting you as well. You kept the scowl on your face regardless, “I promise.”

He hadn’t released your face, but he stood staring at you. “I’ll be waiting.”

Castiel’s arrogance sent you to your brewing point, anger and adrenaline pulsing through you. You were torn between the fantasy of killing him and sitting on his face, you weren’t exactly sure which need dominated you more but you were certain one of two things would happen.

“What?” he said, “No comment?”

The blood remaining in your mouth collected and you shot it in his face. Red speckles covered his cheeks and forehead as he shut his eyes tightly.

His hand left your face so that he could wipe his own and he looked at his hand and then back at you. “Hm.” he mused. before turning his body slightly so that he could slap you across the face, saliva and blood spitting from your mouth from impact. He again clutched your face, exceptionally harder and more painful than the two times before, bringing your face close to his, “If – and it’s not likely – you survive, come and find me to settle your score. Until then, know your place, girl.”

Without another word, him and the Winchesters left leaving you restrained and struggling against the binds.

And now, you sat in a grummy motel room waiting for a specific angel to walk through the door. It’s been eight months, nine days, 12 hours, and forty minutes since you seen him, since he left you for dead and god, were you still pissed.

You sat in the chair at the table in the corner of the room, two booted feet propped on the table with your ankles crossed casually. You were patient, but eager. You wanted nothing more than to empty the clip of your glock into his face, even if your knew it wouldn’t kill him.

Recently you had taken one of the infamous angel blades and melted it to bullets, but those were in a different gun, stashed away for when the real fun begins.

The door of the motel room opened swiftly as someone sighed, you recognized the deep, throaty pitch immediately. You sat quietly until he moved to the middle of the holy oil circle you laid before lighting a match and landing it on the oil line. As the light from the flames lit the room, he froze with his back to you.

“Cassie-boy!” you cheered with false joy as he slowly turned to see you, “You look well!”

“Y/N,” he breathed.

You stood from your seat, crossing your arms over your chest, smirking lightly. “Told ya I’d find you eventually.”

He sighed, “I’m honestly surprised.”

You pursed your lips, shrugging innocently while pulling the gun filled with angel bullets that was in your waist line from behind you and pointed it at him, “Yeah, me too. Took eight months, but here I am.”

Castiel eyed you, “You look well.”

“I know!” you gushed, “I’m much sexier when I’m not broken and bloody.”

“You can’t shoot me with bullets, girl.” he said. The statement aroused the same feeling it did so many months ago. “I’m not sure what you plan to accomplish.”

The gun slowly moved from his face, to his knee, “I have no intention on killing anyone,” you said as you pulled the trigger, a bullet shot through his thigh and a beam of light shone through as he gasped loudly clutching his leg and falling to the ground. “Yet.”

He groaned, holding his leg tightly. He seethed his teeth together and glowered at you.

Crouching down to be eye level with him, a devious smirked played on your face, “This is going to be so much fun.”

Castiel wailed as you dragged the angel blade down his abdomen, in almost the same exact spot he did to you a while back. Seeing him in almost the same condition you were in was satisfying, but you weren’t enjoying yourself as much as you assumed you would.

“Yanno,” you said, “For a while there you were the Francis to my Wade Wilson,” you said referencing to Deadpool.

Castiel only furrowed his eyebrows, “I – I
don’t understand.”

You raised your eyebrows and stared at him. “Seriously?” you gasped. “You don’t know Deadpool?”

Castiel shook his head at you, and you continued. “Well, I suggest it, it’s funny as shit.”

He stared at you, his chest heaving up and down as he breathed heavily. He glared at you at your ramblings and all that you seen in his eyes was hatred, loathing, and bitterness towards you. You sighed at the sight of him; covered in blood, muscular, and kind of really fucking sexy.

Seriously, you thought turning around to face away from him, No one should look this attractive covered in blood.

A tightening formed in your chest as you smoldered at yourself for finding the person you hate the most so goddamn attractive.

“Dammit,” you said, “I can’t do this.”

You turned around, walking towards him.

His eyes squinted at the side of you as you approached and began unlocking this wrist from the binds. “What are you doing?”

“Obviously I’m letting you go, stupid.” you snapped at him, frustrated with yourself.

“I understand that, but – ” He paused, “Why?”

“Because I’m not enjoying it as much as I assumed I would,” you shrugged, “All I ask is that you give me a solid head start on getting out of here before you come and hunt me down.”

Castiel said nothing as he scowled at you, watching you release one of his hands from the binds; which immediately grabbed a fist full of your hair and brought you close to his face. His heavy breath hit your face and his grip tightened, you immediately regretted letting his hand go. You froze in place, staring at his hardened expression.

His blue eyes pierced yours fiercely as he spoke, “Unbind the other one.”

You swallowed hard at his demand, unlocking the other bound. His other free hand found your waist and gripped it tightly as well, “Now,” he rasped, “Let me tell you what’s going to happened to you next.”

Holy shit.