It was a rainy day, you and warren were snuggled up in bed just sitting in each others arms listening to the rain hit the windows, his fingers worked through your hair as yours played with his soft white feathers.
- Warren LOVES when you wear his clothes
• Warren had walked in his room to see you curled up asleep in his bed, wearing on of his old Metallica tshirts, he practically died on the spot.
- He is often self conscious of his scars from the cage :(
He was staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his emerald eyes glossy with tears. “How can you love me?.” he asked, you just kissed every single one of his scars, telling him how beautiful he was.
- You two spent most your time in his room just lounging around listening to his old records
You were laying on his bed as he sat at the desk, as the music softly played in the background. He eventually got up and danced with you after you begged forever
- Warren loves when you massage his back and wings after a long flight
He was laying on his stomach as you straddled his waist slowly massaging his shoulders, then moving to the base of his wings and running your fingers through his feathers, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder blades.
Just as you pulled on your Captain America pajama bottoms, Seb text you.
S: I’m here.
A: Let yourself in. I’m in my room.
As you went to the huge master bathroom to take your makeup off, you heard Sebastian walking around downstairs.
After a few minutes, you heard him talking to himself as he started climbing the stairs. A barefoot Seb knocked on the doorframe.
“You decent? I brought beer.”
“I’m clothed but no I’m never decent.” As you giggled, he walked over and handed you a beer with a smirk. You nodded in thanks and tipped your head back as you took a sip.
With a shocked look on his face Seb noticed your pajama bottoms. “Oh that’s hurtful.”
“Well they don’t make Bucky or Winter Solider ones.”
“I’m finding some. Like tomorrow. And you’re gonna throw those away.”
You gave a short laugh and came out of the bathroom. “Try me. I’ve had these forever. Before the movies even.”
“Yeah I remember you wearing them then too. Can’t believe they still fit even though your ass got bigger.”
“Now who’s being hurtful?” You promptly stuck your tongue out at him and leaned on the dresser.
Sebastian took a seat at the end of your girly bed on the pristine white bedding. “You still have this old thing too?”
“Well you know I couldn’t give up my Parisian bed. Aunt Joan would’ve haunted me.”
You indeed loved the old bed with its pink velvet on the headboard and the whitewashed wood. You’d spent countless hours daydreaming on it. Even through your Goth phase you’d still loved it.
“C'mon, mandra (tr. sweetheart)…let’s head downstairs and see what we can find to watch.”
Following Seb you noticed how the grey tshirt pulled at his shoulders when he moved and how the black sweatpants hugged his slim hips and his perfect ass. Something about tonight is different. Not bad but definitely different.
Heading to the the kitchen, you pulled out a bowl and the popcorn you handed the bag to him. As he set the microwave, you smiled at his back. Yes…most definitely different.
Heading into the living room you grabbed the dark teal blanket and settled comfortably on the couch. Grabbing the remote you turned on Netflix to find a movie.
“God I love this couch. Perfect for hanging out on.” Sebastian set the bowl of popcorn on one of the end tables. He stretched out beside you. His long legs crossed at the ankle.
You finally agreed on a movie and covered up.
Seb put an arm around your shoulders and grabbed at the end of the blanket by him. “Share, girl.”
As you snuggled into his side and your left hand on his stomach, the movie started. His right arm tightened around you.
Halfway through the movie you were really warm. Sebastian puts off the body heat for sure.
You had absentmindedly started drawing circles on his abs. You could feel the muscles respond beneath your fingers. His fingers started moving on your shoulder and upper back.
You sighed and closed your eyes. You’d been a long time without a touch. Heat pooled in your stomach again, and you arched your back. Your breasts pressing into his side.
Sebastian turned to look at you. You couldn’t see him but you felt his hot gaze on you. Studying your face. Your hand fisted his tshirt tightly. Seb slid his warm open palm up your back to your neck to your hair. Gently grabbing your hair he pulled your face to his.
Your hands went to his chest as your lips met. You felt the scruff on his face as the hungry kiss deepened. Then Sebastian wrapped both of his thick arms around you tightly and pulled you on his lap to straddle him. Lips never pulling apart.
Your hands quickly went to the back of his head and gripped his hair. His hands moved to your hips and rubbed up to your shoulders and then back down to your ass. You pulled away from the kiss and threw your head back moaning.
He groaned from deep in his chest and stared at you while biting his lower lip. His hands returned to your hips and started moving you on him. You felt him through his pants. Seb was hard. And huge…oh wow…
You looked straight in his eyes. They were the darkest blue. Tugging slightly on his hair, you gave him a small smile.
“This feels so good, mandra, but if you want to stop now is the time to speak up.”
“No stopping.” You tugged his hair again…a little harder this time.
“If you don’t stop that you’ll get fucked for sure, Anna.”
“Pretty sure I said no stopping.” Tugging even harder this time you smirked at him.
“Don’t forget…you asked for this.” His fingers gripped your hips even harder, and he started rising up to meet you.
Sebastian felt so good, and no you definitely didn’t want to stop.
“Ready?” Dean asks as he clicks the safety off his gun.
You had been tracking a succubus for a few days now, and it had led you to a rundown farm out in the boondocks.
It had been drawing in men from all over town, draining them of their life and moving along to the next one she seduced.
Dean and Sam had tried to play bait at a local bar, but, to Dean’s somewhat strange disappointment, she didn’t go for them. You did manage to catch a young woman, with fiery red hair who looked like she was from a runway rather than a podunk, mid-western town, leading a man in dirty jeans and oil-stained tee out the door.
You figured that had to be her, so you grabbed the boys and tailed them, leading you to the small barn you currently sat outside of.
You tried to give them a few minutes, still unsure if this was definitely the demon you were searching for, hoping that you could catch her in the act so that you didn’t take out some poor girl just looking to have a good time.
“Ready.” You nod, cocking your gun and double checking to make sure your angel blade was within reach for when you needed it.
You and Dean quietly exit the Impala. Sam was on the other side of town keeping an eye on another girl that could be your monster, but you were pretty sure that you had found her and were ready to drive a blade through her heart.
You and Dean creep up to the porch, him silently motioning to you that he’s going to open the door, and when he does, you go left, and he’ll go right. You nod and he pushes open the door, his gun leading the way as you enter the quiet house.
You make your way through the living room, and into the kitchen, finding no one. You make your way down the front hallway towards the stairs where Dean is already halfway up.
That’s when you hear it, a deep, throaty scream from somewhere upstairs. Dean jumps up the steps two at a time, you sprinting behind him as the two of you race down the hallway towards the shrieks.
Dean kicks the door open, the wood splintering as he bursts through.
The man you were following is laying on the bed, the red-headed woman pinning him down with supernatural strength as her lips attach to his, pulling the energy from him as he begins to shrink away before your very eyes.
Dean is across the room in seconds, and before the demon even has time to react, he’s plunges his blade into her stomach, her eyes glowing orange and a shrill cry as she falls to the floor.
You rush over to the man, who looks more like a skeleton than a human being. Your fingers run along his arm, desperately trying to find a pulse. Your head falls.
You waited too long.
You look up at Dean and shake your head. His lips purse as he grabs the lamp from the end-table next to the bed and chucks it at the wall. Glass shattering in a million directions onto the floor.
“Damnit!” Dean roars. “We were right here!”
Your head falls, knowing he’s right. If you had come in just a minute earlier, you could have saved him, and that was something the two of you were going to have to deal with until the next case took over and served as a distraction.
You open your mouth, ready to tell him, “let’s just get out of here,” when a cry interrupts you.
You and Dean look at each other, confusion both etched on your faces.
Dean raises his gun and leads the two of you out, carefully approaching the only other room up here.
Dean steps into the room first, his gun poised and ready for whatever you find.
“Shit.” He mutters, lowering his gun and stowing it away in his waist band. You step pass him into the room, trying to see what is it he’s found.
The room is painted a soft pink, butterflies and flowers of vibrant colors adoring the walls. All of the furniture is white, and right under the window is a matching crib, the name “Rosalie” painted in pink cursive on the headboard.
Inside of the crib is a baby, maybe about six months old, dressed in a yellow onesie that has a smiling sun and the words “You Are My Sunshine” sewed under it.
Dean stays on the outskirts of the room, looking at pictures of the man you hadn’t saved with a young woman with a swollen belly, the two of them smiling at the camera. There are a few of them before the woman was pregnant, but none, Dean notices, of the woman with the baby after she was born. Just pictures of the man with Rosalie.
You approach the crib, looking in at the screaming baby as she throws her fists around and kicks out her tiny legs.
“Shhhhhs.” You coo, reaching down to pick her up. You gently place her head on your shoulder, bouncing her up and down as you try to get her to quiet down.
“Why would he bring a woman home if he’s married?” You ask Dean, turning to look at him as he stares at the knickknacks around the room.
He looks up at you, glancing at the baby on your shoulder as you cradle her head with one hand and pat her rear with the other.
“I don’t think he is.” Your brow furrows.
“Well he didn’t have this baby, Dean.”
Dean rolls his eyes and cocks his head to the side, motioning to the pictures on the dressers.
You walk over, taking them in.
“I think the mom died. There’s no pictures with her after the baby’s born.”
You groan, your shoulders slumping.
Not only did you not save the guy, you just orphaned his daughter.
“Shit.” You whisper, trying not to let your tone get to high and set the baby off further.
“So what the hell do we do with her?” Dean asks as she starts to quiet down. “And why are you hitting her butt?” His nose scrunches.
“I’m not hitting it.” You scoff. “I’m patting it. My mom use to do it whenever me and my brother got fussy and it would calm us down.” You nod to Rosalie. “Obviously it’s working.”
Rosalie now has two of her fingers in her mouth and she’s staring off at who knows what. But she’s quiet.
“So what do we do with her?” He asks again.
You huff, trying to think.
“If we take her to a police station, they’ll just put her in foster care until they can find family members. Maybe we just hold onto her until we can find her family.” You suggest, completely unsurprised as Dean’s eyes go wide.
“You want to keep the baby?” He asks incredulity.
“Not keep her. Just take care of her until we find the right people to take her.” You smile.
“Do you even know how to take care of a baby?” Dean asks with doubt. “When’s the last time you’ve taken care of anything?” He crosses his arms.
“I take care of you all the time, so I should be fine.” You shoot back, and Dean’s face scrunches up.
“You’re real hilarious, Y/N.” He huffs.
“Look, I use to babysit all the time when I was younger. I know exactly what to do. Grab that diaper bag over there and put in some formula, a bottle, diapers, wipes, and rash cream. And some extra clothes. Then meet me in the car.”
Once the diaper bag is packed and tossed into the back seat, you and Dean head back to the motel.
Dean calls Sam to let him know what happened and to meet you back at the room while you cradle a now-sleeping Rosalie in your arms.
The car ride back is silent, you looking out the window and Dean stealing glances at the baby, still unsure if this is a good idea or not.
When you get back to the motel, Dean heads to the manager’s office to see if they have a crib you can use for the night and you bring Rosalie into the room as she begins fussing in your arms.
You notice her diaper feels heavy, so you figure she must need a change. You grab the diaper bag and place Rosalie on the bed, keeping your fingers on her stomach so she doesn’t roll as you grab what you need to change her.
“Shhhhss.” You coo as she starts to cry again. “It’s okay. I’m gonna get you a nice, dry diaper and all will be okay.” Rosalie just blinks at you with her tear-filled brown eyes and puts her hand in her mouth as you take off her onesie. You pull at the tabs of the diaper until it comes undone, and you are not surprised to find it wet. You begin to clean her up, Rosalie quieting down in the process.
Once the new diaper is done, you look up at her, a beautiful little girl who has no idea that the worst night of her life has just happened to her.
You smile, sad at what you’ve caused her, and hoping you can make it right by finding someone who will love her like her parents would.
“It will be, okay, Rosalie.” You tell her and she smiles at her name. “Ohhh, you know your name?” You coo, and she laughs at the lightness in your tone. “You’re such a smart girl, aren’t you?” Rosalie giggles as your voice keeps getting higher.
Her hands ball into fists as she shakes them excitedly. You lean over a blow a raspberry on her bare stomach, causing her to explode in laughters.
“Does that tickle?” You laugh at her giddiness. Your lips touch her warm skin again as you blow another raspberry, causing another fit of giggles from you and the little girl.
You’re so caught up in her happiness, you don’t even notice the door open as Sam and Dean enter with the crib.
“Are we interrupting something?” Dean announces their presence, and you look up at him, a smile spread wide across your face.
“Just raspberries.” You smile down at Rosalie, her hands grabbing on to your fingers.
Dean eyes linger on you, watching as you lower your head and place a kiss on Rosalie’s stomach, the little girl cooing at your touch as her hand tries to grab for a piece of your hair that’s fallen into your face.
“Gonna help me here, Dean?” Sam’s exasperated voice calls out, drawing Dean’s attention away from you.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”
Once the crib is set up, the three of you are sitting around the small table, Sam with his laptop open finding as much info as he can about your victim and trying to locate the nearest family members, you with Rosalie in your arms again, this time with a bottle as Rosalie drinks with wide eyes staring at the ceiling, and Dean sitting with a beer in hand, just watching the two of you.
“You’re not half bad with her.” He comments as she finishes up her bottle.
“I told you.” You snark while keeping your eyes on Rosalie as you place her on your shoulder to burp her.
Dean was so surprised at how natural this seemed to be for you. Dean always saw you cutting off vamp heads and taking down demons, usually covered in blood and bruises while you did so. Gentle was never a word he would have used to describe you, but now, watching you cradle Rosalie, humming her to sleep and lowering her into the crib with a kiss on the cheek, he was seeing an entirely new side of you, and it made him smile.
“There’s a grandmother about twenty minutes from here. I think she might be Rosalie’s best shot.” Sam breaks the silence after you finally get Rosalie asleep.
You sigh, looking into the crib at the oblivious little girl, guilt of what you’ve done to her weighing heavy on your heart.
“Hey,” Dean’s hand lands on your knee. “She’s going to be okay. And you’re making sure of that.” Dean smiles at you, knowing the guilt you’re feeling.
You don’t say anything, just nod and get ready for bed.
Once the lights are off, Sam in his bed, already taking up the entire mattress, and you and Dean in the other, the small space between you nothing new.
Both of you are awake and staring at the ceiling.
You messed up this time, bad, but what was really going to haunt you was the fate of Rosalie. Sure, you never knew if she would of had a good life with her father, but you had stolen that chance for her to get to know the only parent she had left, and it made you ache in ways you never had before.
“She’ll be okay.” Dean whispers, seemingly reading your mind. You smile in the dark, small and sad.
“I hope so.”
A hand reaches out and grabs onto yours, rough and warm as he wraps your fingers in his. He doesn’t say anything else, knowing you won’t listen right now anyways, and you let your eyes close, hoping that you can make everything right tomorrow.
You ring the doorbell of a white, ranch house, with a wrap around porch and a swing. The house looks just like the one from last night, just kept in much better shape with fresh paint and bright flowers.
The screen door opens, and a woman in her late sixties and thin glasses appears at the door.
“Can I help you?” She asks suspiciously at the two men in nice suits, not noticing you behind them.
Dean and Sam pull out their FBI badges.
“We’re with the FBI, ma’am. I’m Agent Fuller, and this is Agent Barkley.” Dean motions to Sam. “Are you Abigail Tyler?” He asks as he pockets his badge.
“Yes, may I ask what this is about?” She stays behind the door.
“Is your son-in-law a Mr. Joseph Miler, of 678 Pinewood Drive?” The woman’s eyes go wide.
“Oh my, yes. He was married to my daughter before she passed.” Her voice shakes a bit.
Sam and Dean share a look, not wanting to share the news, but knowing they have to.
“We’re very sorry to have to tell you this, ma’am,” Sam takes over, his voice soft. “But Mr. Miller passed last night after an accident.”
The woman’s eyes go wide and tears fill her eyes.
“Oh my gosh.” Her hand goes over her heart. “Wait! What about Rosalie, what about my granddaughter? Is she okay?”
You step in-between the boys, the woman sighing in relief as she takes in a napping Rosalie.
“She’s perfectly fine.” You assure her. She reaches out, and you sigh as you hand her over, already missing the weight of the little girl in your arms.
“Thank you so much.” She cries, clinging onto Rosalie.
You nod, and the three of you finish up as quickly as you can, ready to put this case behind you and get back to the bunker.
Once you’re back in the Impala, driving away, you smile, happy to know that Rosalie will be alright.
“You did good.” Dean smiles at you from the rearview mirror, and you nod, needing those words as you head home.