castiel x reader insert

Castiel Sex Headcanons A-Z: P is for Pace


warning: sexy times. duh.

*enjoy the rest under the cut, friends!*

Castiel Sex Headcanons Masterlist


Castiel is usually fairly predictable in terms of his pace. Usually.

He’ll typically start out slow, leisurely pumping in and out of you as his hands roam and his mouth peppers kisses to your neck. He simply wants to enjoy the feeling of being with you in this way, and he wants to savor every blissful second of it.

And then his control will start to waver. 

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Out of Heaven’s Reach 6

EDITED by @waywardbaby

Pairings: Castiel X Angel Reader

Characters : Castiel , Dean , Sam , some nasty ass curse.

Summary: When the boys hit the 4th dead end, Castiel knew they were on the road to give up, maybe it was time to ask heaven for help, there must be some of his brother or sister who didn’t wanted him dead.

Warnings:not really, there will be some smutty time, but not just yet.

Catch up! : Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5


“Y/N …” Castiel repeated exasperated.

“What?” I responded, not paying attention.

“Is it necessary to bring the book in here?” He opened his arms gesturing around  the room.

“You were the one who insisted on doing this. I couldn’t care less” I answered  and my voice reached my ears, sounding indifferent, even a little annoyed. I turn my eyes to the pages again, scanning the ancient runes and I frown.

“There’s an error here, look!” I point at the wrong translation turning to him again.  “What are you doing?” I asked and the frown stayed on my face as I gazed at the trench coat that was being draped over the shower stall wall divider.

“I’ll have you know, wet clothes are really uncomfortable” he said, shrugging off the suit jacket, throwing it over the coat.

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Looking Glass

Chapter 16 - Speak of the Devil

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1431

Summary: Story-adapted episode coda for 14X21 Beat the Devil - scene set at the end of the Team Free Will kitchen rally concerning Lucifer. Dean keeps Cas behind for a few minutes to have an intervention concerning what he plans to do about the reader. Dialogue and described scene up to Castiel’s italicized/bolded “What?” belongs to the SPN writers (although character internal reflections are all my assumptions).

A/N: For those of you waiting for AU!Castiel to reappear, you’ll find the next chapter, 17, of particular interest.

Miss a chapter? Have a Masterlist Link!

“Another fun, great choice.” Sam’s jaw sets, the resignation in his hazel eyes as they avert from Dean and Cas mingles with remembered fear and rekindled anger at the notion of having no logical choice but to involve Lucifer. None of them finds the idea of needing the devil appealing. He knows Cas is right, though; with the failure of Gabriel’s scanty and weakened grace to sustain an open rift and time running short, there is no other choice.

Straightening up and squaring his shoulders where he leans, listening, against the cool steel of the kitchen counter, Dean wears an acerbic smile. “Well, hey, bright side is, even if we do pull it off we still only get 24 hours in the apocalypse world. And Rowena’s right, we’ll be lucky to even hear a word of mom and Jack much less save ‘em, so …” Feigning being upbeat, he gives two thumbs up, winks, and clicks his tongue.

The sharp cluck snaps Sam’s past torture wandering mind back into the present. Dean’s sarcastic summary coalesces into a thought. “Wait a second,” he lightly exhales into the tense atmosphere of the room, a breath of optimism.

Cas recognizes the miniscule signs of positivity pulling at the younger Winchester’s anxious features. “What?” he asks.

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Our Only Mistake Was Love Us-Part 1.

Summary: Castiel Returns after two weeks of disappearance only to give interesting news to the Winchester brothers about the reader.

Pairing: Castiel x Reader.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing Words, mention of abortion.

A/N: The reader it’s Sam and Dean little sister; I know I already wrote about this but I really love writing about this topic.

Thank you so much @bluebell013 for being an amazing beta editing and whipping the draft of this part to make this, the final result which is amazing.

Series Masterlist.

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Me finding fanfictions, a summary.
  • Me: Oh wow look at this new fanfic
  • Fanfic summary: These two mother fuckers are gonna fuck. thats all ive gotta say.
  • Me: *CLICK*
  • -After Reading-
  • Fanfic Author: BITCH THERES A SEQUEL!
  • Me: *Click*
Castiel’s Creations

Characters: Cas x Pregnant!Reader, Sam, Dean

Summary: The reader is pregnant with Castiel’s children and reveals the genders to her brothers

Words: 995

Warnings: As fluffy as an angel’s wings

A/N: Sorry it took so long! Thank you for bearing with me! I had to come up with the idea and make sure I didn’t turn it into angst! (Which was a bit hard to do) So for the sake of no angst, the reader conceived when Castiel was human.

Originally posted by ardysgurl

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Blue Nails

Summary: When Castiel sees you wearing nail polish, he gets curious.
Pairing: Castiel x Reader
Word Counting: 690 words
Warning: Castiel has a crush, so much fluff. 

Originally posted by howtobesupernatural

Castiel tilted his head to the side when you rubbed a hand over your face. Your nails were… Blue?

Blue wasn’t a natural colour to humans. Your species had blue eyes but no blue hair or skin. Actually, there weren’t even many examples of blue in nature, even though it was very beautiful.

He knew how humans took colours from nature. Beetles, fruits, flowers and trees could be used to create pigments that could be used in cosmetics but not blue. Never blue.

“You okay there, Cas?” You questioned, seeing how he was staring at you.

“Your nails are blue.” He pointed.

You frowned, sitting straight.

“Yeah. What’s the problem?”

He hesitated but shrugged.

“They are very beautiful.”

You smiled openly, relaxing, and sat close to him at the table, reaching out and showing him your nails. Being a hunter didn’t give you much time to yourself but you always tried to keep them groomed, painting them whenever you could. You had a small collection of nail polish and had painted them that morning,

“Here.” You muttered, showing your fingernails to him. “It is a new colour.”

“How did they make it?” He questioned, curious.

You were taken back by the question.

“I’m a hunter, Cas. I don’t know how nail polish is made.”

He looked down in embarrassment and you used the hand closer to him to pat his shoulder. Sometimes you forgot the tall blue-eyed man knew little about humans and could be like a child.

“It’s okay, Cas.” You affirmed, an idea forming in your mind quickly. “I can paint your nails if you want me to.”

His eyes moved quickly to your face and you couldn’t help but notice how they were the same colour as your nail polish.

“Could you?” He questioned.

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Originally posted by hallowedbecastiel

Pairing: Castiel x Reader (ft. Dean, Sam, and Gabriel)

Content/Warnings: Fluff; angst

Words: 1550

A/N: This wasn’t requested, but it’s been on my mind so I figured I would write it. (plus no one requested a Cas soulmate AU) Enjoy, guys!

“Alright, there look to be around twelve vamps in this nest,” Dean said. “Cas, you and Y/N take the back, Sam and I will take the side.”

You nodded, waving the angel over to walk with you. The sun was high in the sky as the two of you crept silently around the building. You were picking your way carefully through the leaves, watching for anything that could cause you to fall. Castiel tripped in a hole, limbs flailing, and you grabbed him before he could crash headlong into the wall and heaved him back. “You alright?” You whispered.

“I, um, yes. Fine,” He stammered, quickly taking the lead. The angel was adamantly refusing to meet your gaze. “This way.”

Shaking your head, the persistent wonder if Castiel even liked you filtered through once more. “There’s the door,” You whispered. “I’ll open, you go in first.”

“Alright,” He said, and you slowly turned the doorknob, pulling it quickly open. Castiel went in first, the two of you beheading unsuspecting vampires with little resistance. It wasn’t long before your ran into Sam and Dean, who had killed half. “I believe all the vampires are now dead.”

“Alright, good work team,” Dean said. “Let’s get rid of these vamps and get out of here.”

Castiel disappeared, wings fluttering, and reappeared a few moments later. “It is done. Shall we go?”

“Sure,” Dean said with a shrug, leading the way out.

You nodded for Cas that he could leave first, and you leaned down to tie your shoe. A painful smack of person-against-wood drew your attention to Cas, who was rubbing his face and glaring at the doorframe. “Cas, are you sure you’re okay?”

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Mobile Masterlist

Ok, so my mobile masterlist decided to just stop properly working and messing up links and the likes. Updated it, but can’t reblog, so from now on this will be my mobile friendly masterlist.

You can find the desktop version here . (Not updated but will update soon)

Due to the length I’ve decided to put the masterlist below the “Keep Reading” since I got some complaints :)

Instead I’m just adding the amount of stories above for each part (not including every part of a multiparter so if there are five parts to a story it will still only count as one).

Story counts:

Dean x Reader: 54
Sam x Reader: 28
Cas x Reader: 17
Others x Reader: 22
Friendship and family fics: 21

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You will find everything that I write listed below! I add to my masterlist constantly so it’s always up to date. Enjoy <3











Angels in the Bunker

Characters: Gabriel, Castiel, Balthazar, Lucifer x Reader (you’ll see *wink wonk*)

Word Count: 1,580

Warnings: Fluff!

A/N: This was requested by @averagegaykid! I loved writing this one, so I hope you all enjoy it! I hope you’ve all enjoyed Satan Sunday this week!! I love you all so much!!

You assembled the four angels, all of them standing together in front of you.  They all towered over you, which was one of the reasons you recruited their help.  While the Winchesters were gone, you were going to decorate the bunker for Christmas.  It was not an easy task to do by yourself.  

You had them each bring along different decorations.  Balthazar was to get the Christmas tree, and the ornaments for it.  Gabriel was supposed to get lights for the tree, along with stockings.  Castiel was sent to get candy for the stockings, along with candy canes for the tree.  You asked Lucifer to bring one thing, garland.  You knew Lucifer was not a fan of Christmas, but he could never say no to you.

“Alright my angels,” you smiled.  “We only have the rest of today and a little bit of tomorrow to decorate the bunker.  Dean and Sam don’t take long on hunts.  They’ll be even quicker when they realize this is just a ruse.”

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The Littlest Angel

From this request: could you do a tfwxmale!reader where he’s the youngest angel and really adorable and when he’s all like ‘I am centuries old fear me’ they’re like 'aww okay Y/N whatever you say’ and it’s just really fluffy and adorable?!



Once again, your elder brother was spending his time with the Winchesters. You didn’t mind; they were nice to you. And it made it rather easy to find Castiel, since nine times out of ten he was at the bunker (or, in rare cases, at a diner. With the Winchesters, of course).

“What is it, Y/N?”

You suddenly felt rather silly, having three sets of eyes on you. “I…”



“What about Gabriel?”

“He… he…”

“Come on, Cherub,” Dean said. “Spit it out.”

You frowned at the unfortunate nickname Dean had assigned you when he’d first met you. “Don’t call me that.”



“But that’s what you are.”

“I’m a full-fledged angel!”

“Whatever you say, Cherub.”

Your wings fluttered with agitation.

“C’mon, Dean,” Sam said. “Leave him alone.”

“Oh, come on, Sammy. Little guy can take it.”

“I am a powerful angel!” You stamped your foot. “You should treat me with respect!”

The air was still for a few moments, everyone staring at you with wide eyes. But slowly you could see their resolve cracking, tiny smiles appearing on their faces.

“Very well, Y/N,” Sam said. “You are a powerful angel, just as the rest of them. Now, what seems to be the problem?”

You pouted slightly. “Gabriel pulled one of my feathers out.”

“And what do you expect me to do about it?” Castiel asked.

You took the tip of your wing in your hand, running your fingers through the feathers. “Yell at him?”

“Surely an ‘all-powerful angel’ such as yourself can take care of this matter,” Dean said, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Sam.

Castiel sighed, standing. “Very well, Y/N. I will talk to Gabriel.”

Being with Cas (A Drabble Series): Nighttime with Cas

Warning: excessive fluff.

Being with Cas Masterlist

“I think it’s time for bed,” Cas said suddenly from his chair beside you, closing your lore book for you.

You nodded and squealed out a high-pitched “yeeEESSSS” as you stretched, causing Cas to chuckle. 

“Carry me,” you requested softly, your eyes closed while you stood and held your arms out for him.

Cas rolled his eyes and smiled, picking you up easily into his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. 

“You’re like a spider monkey,” he commented in amusement.

You grinned sleepily, burying your face into his neck as he carried you into your shared bedroom and gingerly tucked you into bed. You didn’t bother changing out of your t-shirt and shorts, instead choosing to watch Cas walk around to his side of the bed and strip down to his boxers before sliding into bed beside you.

“Cas,” you said quietly, resting on your side and scooting so that you were nose to nose with him, playing with his fingers as he locked eyes with you.

“Hmm?” he mumbled, interlacing his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand. 

“Where do you go at night?” You knew Angels didn’t sleep, and you didn’t expect him to just lay there all night doing nothing. So you got curious; what did he do all those hours you slept?

“I stay here with you,” he responded easily, his nose nuzzling against yours. “You know I enjoy snuggling.”

You smiled widely, sitting up to lean on your elbow. “Cas, you seriously lay next to me for 5+ hours every single night just to cuddle me?” As adorable as it was, you found it slightly hard to believe.

He smiled. “Not every night,” he admitted. “Sometimes I get up and wander around the bunker or do some reading. But I favor being in here with you.”

You hummed contently in response, snuggling up to his chest and sighing happily when he wrapped an arm around your waist. Before you could close your eyes, his free hand went up to your chin, gently tilting your face up so he could kiss you sweetly. 

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

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Prompt: “Out of all the things you’ve stuck in your mouth…that’s my least favorite one.”

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Requested by: @jensen-jarpad


Dean never wanted you.

He never wanted the pain.

He never wanted the anxiety.

He never wanted the uncertainty.

You invaded his world to the point of no return and he tried grasping at any hint of sanity that presented itself. It was over the second his eyes landed on your curvaceous form, the minute his breath hitched from the glimpse of your smile, the hour you unabashedly talked his ear off about your fluffy German Shepherd.

You wormed your way into Dean’s life so effortlessly that it was unsettling. He exhausted any and all possibilities trying to find out how this occurred. It took months of investigating and plenty of persuasion from Sam, Bobby and Cas but the truth was finally revealed. 

It wasn’t a shitty spell by Rowena wanting to teach him a lesson. It wasn’t some fake reality created by Gabriel for his amusement. And it wasn’t some sick joke Crowley orchestrated out of boredom.

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Protective Angels

Characters: Michael, Castiel, Gabriel, Lucifer, Y/N (no pairing)

Word Count: 1,271

Warnings: fluff, bullying

Requested by anon:  Hey! Can I request an imagine where reader is being bullied in school (she’s 13 or 14 in middle school) and the angels protect her/defend her? Thanks! ❤ (Spn fanfic and by angels I mean Lucifer, Gabriel, Michael and Castiel) <3 <3

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this fic! I find it cute and I am proud of how it turned out! I love you all so much! <3

Middle school was a time for growth and development for all kids.  Unfortunately for some kids, it was also a time consisting of name calling, shoving, and rumors.  Bullies were relentless in your middle school.  Luckily for you, you had angels looking over your shoulders.  

You first met these angels when you were having a hard time adjusting to the new elementary school last year.  They were your first friends.  They were a great help and you loved them from day one, and they loved you.  It was a silent promise that they would protect you from danger.  Even if that danger involved your teenage peers.

As you were walking home, you decided to dig your headphones out of your backpack.  Listening to music was better than hearing the constant ridicule of your peers.  Lately things had gotten worse.  They started throwing your lunch away and shoving you into the lockers in the hallway.  Every book in your arms would fall to the floor.  Castiel would usually help you fetch your books.  He was more helpful than aggressive, which didn’t bother you.  

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I Don’t Know What Happened

“You can scream if you want.” 

Your eyebrow raised at his comment, you would shrug but in your position, tied up, you couldn’t do that. “I can’t scream. It’s more of a pathetic screech.”

“That’s a shame. Usually people scream when they see me.” 

“I can try if you really want me to but it won’t be very good.” 


So you pushed the air from your lungs and gave it a good try. “How was that?” 

“D..did you just make that noise?”

“Unfortunately.” You shifted in your restraints a little, “could you let me go now? This is starting to hurt.” He clicked his fingers in a quick snap and the shackles fell away from your body. You rubbed your sore wrists and shook your ankles to relieve the tension. “Thanks. Hey, do you know where everyone is?” 

“Were you looking for the nest? Because if you were, that’s where they’re holding more people.” 

“Do you mind helping me sort this out?” 

“It’s not like I’ve got Hell or anything to run. I think I can spare five minutes for you.” You chuckled as you caught sight of his smirk.

“Awe, thanks. I didn’t realise you loved me so much.”

He rolled his eyes as he approached you, inviting you into his arms. “You’ll owe me for this.” 

“I know. Add it to my tab.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your toes to kiss him lovingly on his lips, slowly running your fingers through his hair. “I’ll pay in full tonight.” 


“Promise. Now help me assess the situation.”

He stole a few more kisses, prolonging each kiss after the previous one until he had locked your lips as he couldn’t get enough of your taste. “Can’t I just take you now?” He whispered as he pulled away slightly, your noses and lips brushing against one another.

“Later, I promise. Now, let’s make you an unwitting hero.” 

“I don’t know why I keep you around.” 

“Because I’m cheap, easy and useful, maybe?”

“No. I think it’s because I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part II)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: none; S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Summary: The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding, considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her; will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will his feelings get the best of him?

Word count: almost 4k

A/N: yo this blew up way more than i ever thought it would thank you so much for the support <3

Dedicated to: @quixoticcat, @skymoonandstardust, @girliciousdreams, @captainbitchslap, @awkward–jay, @fandomlover03, and @daesunglg



Friday arrives much faster than anticipated. It’s a warm, brisk morning, the sunlight raining down and painting  Massachusetts with a summery essence. Fallen leaves litter the yards of suburban homes and a canopy of those that remain is spread across the road, only a few dots of light peering through.

“Textbook illustration of the apple-pie life.” Dean remarks as he steers the car down a long strip of tarmac. “God…it’s making me sick already.”

“Hold it down. You know I don’t want you throwing up on any of my family members.” Y/N admonishes, letting her gaze avert from watching the houses roll by and unto the elder Winchester; today, despite her attempts to persuade him,  he’s still settled on wearing his usual hunter get-up—jeans and a plaid (obviously)—and his chin is adorned with a feint patch of stubble. His eyes are set on the road, focused, but she don’t miss the way his mouth quirks up at the remark.

Sam laughs as his eyes follow the array of little homes. “Noted.” He says. “Anything else Dean needs to know should probably be voiced out right now. You don’t want him making a fool out of himself around your family either.”

“We talked about this already last night.” The elder Winchester groans.

“No cussing around my mom, no crude jokes, saying the grace is a must, and—“

“And be sure to talk politics with your dad. Yes, I got all of that the first hundred times you told me.” Dean, rolling his eyes, makes a turn for the left and Y/N heaves a sigh of relief. They pass a group fo teenagers walking to school (way too late).

“Okay.” Y/N sighs, then raises her finger for emphasis. “Oh—also, be sure to try and interact with all my brothers. They love that.”

“We’ve met your family before, Y/N.” Sam’s eyes never leave his screen as he twiddles away at his phone.

They had; at the birth of her hunting career with the boys, years back, Y/N had had to make trip down to Massachusetts to handle a siren case that the Winchester’s provided extra muscle for. Their time in town had been spent at her parents’ home.

“I know, but this is different.” She defends. “Dean is….” She pauses, eyes skittering over to the elder Winchester for not so much as a second before they return. “….my boyfriend. Or pretending to be my boyfriend. There’s going to be a lot of pressure.”

“Your folks don’t seem like the type.”

“I just want to rub it in their faces that I’m.”—she raises her hands in finger quotes—“not single anymore so that they’ll get off my case.”

The elder Winchester nods slowly, pulling a face. “Makes sense.”

“Not really.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

The younger Winchester finally lifts his head from his phone. His gaze bounces from Y/N to Dean. “What did Cas say, by the way?”

“About tagging along?” Dean casts a brief glance into the backseat. “Not much. He said that he doesn’t see why we need him there anyway. I told him Y/N’s sister was getting married and she gets to bring a couple of friends, and seeing as we’re the only ones she has…” He trails off. Y/N then smacks him on the shoulder, earning a satisfied smile. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I told him that we want him to come with.”

“And he said no?”

Dean shrugs and continues to drive. The conversation ends there for a moment, and once a silence spreads throughout the car, Dean tunes the radio on and Y/N turns her head to the window.

Trees and houses and roads oh so familiar from her childhood escapades through this tone roll by. Streets, cafes. Although vast and very busy, she knows this place like the back of her hand; the local pool where their family used to go on weekends, the private schools she bounced between. Just down the road, wedged in the valley nearby are the woods where she encountered her first monster at the tender age of sixteen.

So many memories. So much attachment. Y/N hates Massachusetts more than anything; because it reminds her of how idyllic her life was before she started hunting. It reminds her of people and of places and everything the rest of her peers experienced that she didn’t get to; hunting whisked her away from her life, stripped her of a regular teenage hood. But then again, she’s not complaining.

She chose this life. She chose Sam and Dean. She loves Sam and Dean. You can tell her that the sky is red and that pigs fly and she’ll still believe all that first before she believes that they boys are anything but her family.

Boston is a few kilometers off the highway, down a winding road lined by thick trees and shrubbery, and with a few residential buildings scattered around. Despite being a large neighborhood dotted with mansions and the like, it’s a lot quieter. The rumble of the Impala’s engine is evident as Dean, instructed by Y/N, steers his way through. The outline of the city is painted against the canvas of the bright blue sky as they approach. The traffic, taken the time of day, is minimal and so they manage to get to the hotel in time.

In the parking, Dean kills the engine immediately, and then, heaving a heavy sigh, turns to Y/N.

His face speaks no ounce of nervousness, which only makes the young girl’s stomach coil into a tighter knot. She wants him to be nervous. One of them has to, and Dean’s placidity leaves room for only her own anxiety. “So….?”

“So…” She replies, trying to ease away her own nerves. Her hands feel clammy and the back of her neck is hot.  “Just don’t be nervous, yeah? My parents are like predators—they can smell your anxiety a mile away.”

“Not helping.”

“Not supposed to.”

“I feel like I should be telling that you, Y/N.” Dean remarks. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“No, I’m not.” She is. It’s a terrible lie and very evidently so, but thankfully none of the boys say anything. Instead, however, Dean reaches out and envelopes her hand in his. Y/N then stills, and feels the color drain from her face.

The contact is warm, assuring. Her hands slides perfectly into his and their fingers intertwine, palms pressed flat.

“We’re gonna kick ass.” Dean says confidently. Y/N doesn’t hear him—she’s looking at him, staring him dead in the eye, but the words enter one ear and fly out the other because her hand is in his and it’s nice.

It’s nice.

They’ve never held hands before, not like this. Dean guiding her through a dark path on a hunt, Y/N pulling him with her as she runs from a vampire. Their hands have definitely touched before, and their skin has definitely grazed before, but this is so alien to Y/N, because it feels nice and like everything that it’s not supposed to.

Dean stares into the young girl’s gaze as he tugs on her hand, offering a brief smile. “Come on.” He goes to open the door. “We’re gonna be late.”

Once his hand leaves hers, it’s like her trance has been diminished, like spell once cast over her has been broken. She floats back to reality. Sam is hauling their bags out from the trunk, she realizes, and Dean is trying to fit as many weapons into his luggage (just in case) as he can. She quickly gets out. The hotel, adorned with a very tropical theme, is down a strip of cobbled path with a few plants at the sides. Y/N follows the Winchesters, trying to keep the pace, when she hears Dean call to her.

She turns. “Huh?”

“Give me your bag.” He says, his hand open as they walk. Y/N stares at him for a moment, eyes glazed over. She’s still a bit dazed. Looking at Dean now feels alien and almost unreal, like she’s looking in one of those funny funhouse mirrors. Maybe it’s just the stress of this wedding, or the heat, she thinks, trying to brush it off

“Oh, uhm.”

“I got it.”But before she can speak, Sam plucks the rucksack from her and hoists it up on his back. Dean scoffs.

“Wow, Sam.”He rolls his eyes as they approach the hotel. Towering above them, it’s a giant of a building, quaint balconies perched up on room, it’s years and history written out in the way vines climb in slender tendrils along the stone walls. Inside, the ceiling climbs so high one might think it reaches the heavens

“Maybe Y/N should have asked you to play her boyfriend instead.” Dean remarks as they stroll in. The place is packed; an eclectic cloud of people roams the room, all with their luggage in hand.

Sam smirks. “Maybe she should have.”

“The reception’s over there.”

Y/N points to the desk ahead. Shuffling through the crowd, the trio makes their way over to the counter, the receptionist smiling at them. She’s young, probably older than them, but still her skin is taut and plump and her brown eyes gleam as she speaks. She types something into the computer and in a moment heir rooms are assigned, all courtesy of her family. Sam has agreed to carry everything upstairs and meet them at the lounge, so Y/N and Dean decide the time alone can be used to go over their ground rules again.

They wander over to the bar, a noticeable distance between them. The room is ambient, lit up by little warm lights suspended from the high-set ceiling despite it being day. Slow jazz music floats through the crowded room. As soon as they settle down, swarming like locusts in a field, the waiters come over, all trying to fix a menu in their faces until Dean ushers them away and says that they’re not hungry. Y/N is a little bit disappointed—she hasn’t eaten all morning—but says nothing, instead focusing on the man before her.

“Can I cuss around your sister?” Dean asks as he leans back in his seat.

Y/N nods vigorously, her expression saying that the answer is quite obvious. “S/P/N’s got a mouth like a sailor. A little profanity won’t hurt. Not around my parents though.”

“Not around your mum…?”

“Not around either.” She says. “They hate it, think it makes you look delinquent.”

Dean nods thoughtfully, then goes on asking various questions. Time seems to drift by unnoticed, the conversation bouncing from one end to another like a ball in a tennis court.

“Can I drink?”



Y/N wrinkles her brow in uncertainty. “You don’t smoke.” She says; it’s a firm statement, a proclamation rather than a question

“But if I had to?“

“Fine.” The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.  Dean chuckles. The sound is precise and brief but still manages to bring a shy smile to her face.  Moments later, the table has quieted for some reason, so Y/N lifts her gaze to Dean, regarding him curiously. She knows that look—it’s hard not to when she’s seen it so many times, with Sam or Cas, or even first hand. Gaze set on the floor, his lip is tucked between his teeth and he runs his tongue over his lips, his contemplation evident until he finally looks up.

“So,” The elder finally allows their eyes to meet. “What about us? You know…our boundaries, instructions. Do’s and don’ts. What do we say if we get the stereotypical how did you meet quiz?”

“Doesn’t really matter.” She waves a dismissive hand and then leans back in her seat. The fiber of the backrest presses into her back, crackling quietly. “My parents already know we met through hunting, but we could always just use some other cover with my other relatives.”

“So we lie?”

She quirks a teasing brow and smiles. “You have no problem lying that you’re an FBI agent basically every day. Lying that you met me on vacation or something can’t really be that hard…?”

“Where was our vacation to?”

“So we’re settling on the vacation-thing?”

Dean shrugs. “Any other options? I’m sorta just following here. It’s your plan.”

“Don’t say it like that. We’re a team, Dean.”

“Right, almost forgot that.” The elder Winchester chuckles and shakes his head. “Okay. What if we met on unconventional grounds? Maybe I nearly ran your dog over and you got pissed, so you tried flagging down my car and threatened to press charges. You didn’t, of course. My good looks and wit managed to persuade you into changing your mind and just having dinner with me instead.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the green-eyed hunter, her mouth quirked upwards. “Is that your definition of romance? It sounds like bad lifetime movie.”

“It’s realistic.”

“It’s dumb.”

Dean pouts, then folds his arms and leans back in the chair. “Whatever.” He grumbles. “You think something up then.”

“Vacation it is.”

“You’re insufferable.”

A wide grin stretches across Y/N’s face and she revels in the victory, when Sam walks up. He comes up from behind her, the only indication of his arrival being the way Dean’s eyes dart to the space past her seat.

“You guys aren’t eating?”  He asks, pulling out a seat from the table nearby. He sits and turns to Dean.

“Do you want to?” The elder Winchester looks to Y/N—he’s asking her.

Opening her mouth to speak, she’s about to decline (because they don’t have time to sit and eat anyway), but the grumbling in her stomach reminds her of her hunger. The sound is embarrassingly loud. Her mouth instantly shuts, and Dean’s eyes widen.

“Shut up.” Y/N chastises as her cheeks are swarmed with pink. The elder Winchester doesn’t listen. He begins to howl with laughter, clasping his stomach, and Sam snickers along with him.

“Whatever.” She turns her head, scowling, as his laughter begins to melt away. Leaning back in his seat, little bubbles of laughter escape him, and he lifts his hand.

“Waiter.”He calls. A few feet away, with long curly blond hair, one of the servers from earlier turns. Dean’s ruddy face smiles at him as he calls him over. He scuttles over, a polite smile on his face.

“Yes, sir?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Dean’s voice is ribbing and smug.

“Shut up.” The young girl rolls her eyes and turns her attention to the waiter. He’s young and his face is dotted with little pink spots of acne. She orders a chicken salad, just like Sam, and Dean goes for stake. Moments later, the food arrives, hot and scented with herbs and spices.

They eat and then, stuffed and satisfied, head up to their rooms to get cleaned up. Y/N just got a call from her parents asking where they are, that they’ve been waiting on them for a while now and everyone is already arriving

when they finally get to their room, Sam waiting out in the hallway, she and the elder Winchester hurry to get ready. Y/N curls her hair and throws on some mascara while Dean runs a quick shower.

“Okay, this is it.” She says, standing by the bed; the light from outside floods the area, bringing out the very delicate and chic design: the walls, painted mocha brown, are adorned with little trinkets and the bedspread is a light toffee color. There’s a potted palm in one of the corners, candles practically everywhere, and the wooden floor is warm beneath her bare feet.

“Operation Wedding Crasher is in pursuit.” Y/N says to Dean

Standing in the bathroom, he’s just gotten out of the shower and is trying to fix his hair, running his fingers through it and muttering profanities beneath his breath. She’d insisted that he changed—taken how many outfits he’s recycled, she’s pretty sure he wore that very one years ago when he first met her parents

“Roger that.” He takes one last look in the mirror, checking his stubble and hair, then walks over to the bed where his shirt sits.

Y/N tries not to stare at his bare-chested form as he quickly slips on the shirt, the front undone and exposing his caramel-colored skin. Instead, she clears her throat and turns away. This is the only way; if she doesn’t, she’s going to end up drooling a puddle on the floor or letting her gaze linger for too long, and that’s the last thing she needs right now. As if things weren’t awkward enough back in the car.

She then looks down at her hand, once encased in Dean’s, the marks from her battles with monster’s still there. There’s a little crescent shaped scar sticking out in her palm that speaks of a hunt years ago, a hunt with a rugaroo that ended in tears and blood and Y/N clasping onto Dean’s shirt for dear life. It’s hard to forget. She can recall getting it, can remember the pain of having to kill that young girl because of the abomination she had come, can still taste the blood on her tongue and feel the pain in her hand.

This life has left her with various moments like that. It’s a packaged deal when you’re a hunter, a sort of terms-and-conditions scenario, to have at least one hunt that has managed to strip you of normality. Something that took you over the line that separates you from the regular world—that was it for Y/N. She was it. That girl couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Having her blood on her hands had definitely been the initiation into the hunter’s game for Y/N.

She has been through so much in her time as a hunter and it shows; on her face and on her body. On her hands. She runs a finger along the tissue, watching it intently. Dean is speaking in the background, saying something to her that she can’t decipher because she forgets to for a moment, until the memory nudges at her conscience once more. The rugaroo hunt. Her scar.

It had been Dean to help her that night. It had been him and his nobility to carry her out of that house before she could bleed out; it had been him and his care, his selflessness, that got her to the car parked miles away from the woods they were in; it had been Dean to stop the bleeding and the tears that seemed to rain from her eyes after she killed that young girl and it had been his hands to cloth the wound in her own.

It had been and it will always be Dean, because Dean is her family.

“Y/N?” He says, pulling her from her reverie.

The young girl immediately looks up and whips around, facing the elder Winchester who is already dressed and ready to go. Y/N’s eyes widen; she doesn’t say it, but the outfit change was definitely a good idea.

Because wow.

Her eyes rake up and down the green-eyed hunter’s structure, taking in the sight of his crisp burgundy button up and dress pants—he looks stunning. He always looks stunning. It’s not weird for Y/N to say because it’s Dean and everyone notices his attractiveness upon first encounter, but this is a whole different case. It’s still him, of course. His eyes are still vibrant green, breaching into a hazel-gold, and his hair is still chestnut brown and his smile and his heart and everything Dean Winchester is still evidently there, but it’s just…different, like looking at the same thing but from a different angle.

“Uhm…” He draws out after a while.

Y/N looks back up to his eyes; her face then flushes and she swallows. “Sorry, uh” She stumbles, clasping her hands together and trying to regain her composure”—you were saying?”

Dean is smirking. “I look that good, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

He chuckles. The first few buttons of his shirt are popped and you can see a patch of caramel-tinted skin peering out at you, a feint scar on his collarbone adding some extra touch. “I was saying that we should get going. Sam’s already waiting up for us.”

“Right. Uhm, so we’ve gone over everything, yeah? You get the plan?”

“Yes. Act like we’re dating.”

“Act like we’re in love.” Y/N corrects as she grabs her satchel from the bed and goes to Dean at the door. She stands, body facing him. “There’s a big difference. My parents are going to be all over my case for these two weeks if they see that you and I don’t have any chemistry.”

“We already do, though.” He defends.

“Whatever. Then let’s amp it up—mega chemistry.”

“Mega chemistry, huh?”

“Yeah.” She smiles; it’s goofy and a bit shy because, God, did she really just say that?

But Dean doesn’t seem to mind, because his lips turn up to and he shakes his head. “Dork.”

“Let’s go.”

Y/N goes to open the door, her hand hovering right above the knob when Dean cuts in.

“Can I hold your hand?” He asks.

The young girl then stills and her hand floats away from the door. She stares at him; his voice is calm and collected, like he’s asking her what’s the time or how she is.

“You…want to hold my hand?” Y/N’s uncertainty is evident.

Shrugging, he pulls a face, an expression that says no duh, why not.“Yeah.” He answers. “We are trying to portray that mega-chemistry, aren’t we?”

“We are.”


She feels him reach out, like it’s happening in slow motion, like she can’t do anything, and take her hand in his. Their skin grazes and fingers lace. His hand is far bigger than hers, rougher, too, but it’s a satisfying contrast as the butterflies in her chest are roused.

Dean’s smile is ribbing and smug and Y/N’s heart is in her as she feels her palms clam up. He opens the door and they step out into the hallway, the heat immediately smacking onto them. Sam is leaning against the wall, typing away at his phones, and he looks up when he notices their presence.

A smile twists at his lips. “There’s the happy couple.”

“Shut it.” Dean says, smirking as they begin to saunter down the strip of corridor.  Y/N is trying to mollify her feelings, rinsing them away, trying to rationalize why they’re even here in the first place. They shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be getting so worked up over something like this, but it’s hard to. The past few days, with this wedding situation overhead, have been nerve-wracking—could that be it? she wonders. Could those anxieties be the cause of her frazzled emotions?

But she doesn’t have time to ruminate. The elevator takes them to the ground floor and they shuffle out once the doors open, Sam and Dean talking about how weirdly excited they are about meeting Y/N’s family as they walk through the ballroom and then out into the garden. . Picnic benches are set up across the expanse of greenery and evergreen trees sprout from the ground all around. There are cobbled paths through and fairy lights (currently off) strung up between branches willows. She remembers this place from when her dad would bring her along on workshops and send her out here to play.

Y/N notices her mother first.

Her hair is an ashy blond, curled into a bob, and she’s wearing a white caftan and jeans. She’s smiling, laughing at the table cluttered with familiar faces. Only about two or three people are strangers to her.

Then, as if instinctively, she clutches Dean’s hand tighter in hers. He then casts a brief glance at her, one of caution, worry, almost, and Y/N meets his gaze.

“I’m nervous.” She admits, visibly gulping.

His eyes regard her curiously. “Why?”

If only she knew. But she doesn’t, so Y/N only shrugs and looks back ahead. When they’re a few feet away from the table, that’s when S/P/N notices them because, gleaming like the sun in a salmon colored dress, she rises from her seat and welcomes them with a smile.



Part 3

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Castiel Sex Headcanons A-Z Masterlist

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Castiel Imagine

Imagine: You, Castiel, and Jack redefining for one another what it means to be a family. (Warning - SPN season 13 spoilers!)

Originally posted by tanrininprezervatifi

“Jack?” Castiel’s low voice rumbles, echoing thunder in your ear resting upon the firm pillow of his chest and disturbing you from the deep serenity of slumber.

You shift to sit up in the bed, rubbing the weariness from your eyes and squinting against the bright light illuminating the figure standing in the doorway. Castiel’s hand presses flat and soothing to your back in silent apology for waking you. Alertness flooding with concern for the boy, you ask in a sleep mumbled garble, “What’s wrong, Jack?”

He looks up, mouth drawn, brow tensing, features bashful and uncertain of intruding upon the intimacy of you and the angel so freshly returned from the Empty.

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