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What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

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Requested by @victoriasagittariablack

Prompts - Iron - ‘We work together on this movie/show but we broke up and now our characters are romantically involved.’ & Auburn -  we’re both heading home for the holidays but our plane ends up snowed in at the airport. You have soft blankets and i have snacks, and in the end it doesn’t turn out so bad. & Primrose - “But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

A/N - I literally write Rob Benedict or Matt Cohen as the readers best friend in  all my SPN real people fics so, sorry! Trinity is your character’s name on the show.

Working with someone you were dating had its ups and downs. You had never tried to keep this information a secret, you’d spoken about it honestly when prompted at panels and interviews. Sometimes being around your girlfriend, Ruth Connell, all day and night was great, you savoured the moments you spent with her. At the same time though it was hard, sometimes you had arguments and then you had to work with each other like nothing was wrong, other times it was just a bit overwhelming to spend near on 24 hours a day with somebody. 

You had problems, every couple did, you tried to keep it real both publicly and privately. That’s why you were a bit lost at the moment. The Supernatural cast were all together at a convention, Ruth, you, Jared, Jensen, Richard, Rob, Mark (Pellegrino & Sheppard), Matt and a few others out of the main cast. 

You where sat on the bed of the hotel room that you and Ruth were sharing. Tears welled in your eyes but you absolutely refused to let them fall. Ruth stood across from you, leaning back against the dressing table, looking just as good as you felt.

Ruth had continued an argument you two had been having before catching a plane out here together, about how you two were drifting apart and then she said the words, the words that made your heart clench and your eyes water. ‘Are we even working together anymore? I mean, would it be easier if we broke up?’ 

And now here you were. Begging yourself not to cry as you climbed off the bed and over to your suitcases, thankfully you hadn’t had a chance to unpack. 

“Y/N, where’re you going?” She asked as you went to leave, before you turned to look at her you squeezed your eyes shut. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I’m not staying in here Ruth. You want to break up, that’s ok, I won’t force you to stay with me but please give me space because I can’t-” You cut yourself off with a sob and saw Ruth move towards you. You shook your head and left the room, feeling like the walls were closing in on you.

Sure your relationships had its ups and downs but you never ever wanted it to end. You loved Ruth, still do, madly. You dreaded the thought of going into work after the convention, your characters would begin to date on the show, how difficult was that going to be? 

Once you got a safe enough distance away from your old room you broke, tears fell down your face and sobs escaped even as you tried to muffle them. You had no idea what to do, it was a convention and everyone was staying in the same hotel, though some had to stay in another one due to this one being full. You’d never get a room.

“Wow, Y/N! What’s wrong?” You couldn’t speak but gladly welcomed the arms that wrapped around you tightly, letting your cry your eyes out into their shoulder. Rob your mind supplied as you cried. God, this was so embarrassing. 

He gently eased you out of the hug some minutes later, not wanting you to be in the corridor were anyone could see you. Rob looked at the suitcases by your side and his eyebrows knitted together in both confusion and concern. The safest thing to do was to bring you to his room until he knew what was wrong.

“Come on, let’s go.” He said softly, grabbing the suitcases for you and leading you back to his room.

He sat you on the bed and shot a text to Richard telling him he wasn’t go to make lunch and he sat with you. He pulled you back into a hug and let you just sit and cry.

It was about ten minutes later when you had calmed down enough to talk. You pulled back from him, letting him wipe the mix of tears, massacre and foundation from your face as you did. God, he must think you’re such as mess right now.

“Sorry.” You managed to whisper causing him to look at you like you’d grown two heads.

“What are you sorry for? Y/N/N, you know you can talk to me, right? What happened?” 

Wiping your own face, you took a deep breath and told Rob everything. The increase in arguments, the distance that had grown between you even though you were always together, the anger, the pain, the stress. Everything. To Rob’s credit he sat there whilst you vented, whilst you got angry then sad, and listened to every word.

“You know,” he began, “it’s not healthy for a couple to be around each other for that amount of time. It’s normal that you’re both getting frustrated because well, I guess, you’re so focused on trying not to, uh, not to ignore each other that you put too much pressure on spending time with each other.”

You took in what he said and you agreed whole heartedly, it wasn’t right and you were getting stressed out because of it.

“I know but, ugh, I got this job before I started dating Ruth, you know? It would have been different if we had been dating before but we weren’t. And Rob, this job, it’s my dream job! I can’t give that up. I love her but God, tell me what to do.” You said with a pout, causing him to laugh.

“Ok, ok, you wanna know what to do?” He asked, a slight grin playing on his face. You’d been friends with Rob since the first day you started on Supernatural, he was one of your best friends and you trusted him a hell of a lot. 

“Yes, tell me!”

“You come out with me, Rich and Matt tonight. You have a good time and you do your panels and photo ops like you normally would. You have a good time at this con and then we’ll figure something out before filming, yeah?” You thought about it. It didn’t seem like the most responsible, mature, response to your problems but it sure sounded good. Who could blame you if you just took one night to yourself, one night to focus on you before over thinking and stressing about everything? Besides, you’d asked Rob what to do, it’d be rude not to listen,

“Let’s do it.”

-

-

-

 You had freshened up your makeup and put on one of your outfits that you’d packed before heading downstairs, arms locked with Rob. 

You hadn’t actually seen anyone apart from Ruth and Rob, focusing mainly on checking in and throwing your suitcases in the room before doing so. Clearly there was a change in events but once the elevator opened and you saw people you knew dotted around you relaxed, a genuine smile making its way onto your face. You looked to your left when you heard a whistle.

“Look at you, gorgeous.” You grinned when you saw Rich leaning against the wall near the elevator and made your way over to him, greeting him with a hug and a kiss of the cheek. 

“Not looking so bad yourself, Mr Speight.” You told him causing him to laugh and throw an arm over your shoulder. You knew Rob had told Rich and Matt what had happened but you were relieved when Rich didn’t mention anything.

“Wow, where’s my hug?” You rolled your eyes but stepped out of Richard’s hold to wrap your arms around Matt. He gave you a tight squeeze as he kissed your temple causing a lump to build in your throat, ignoring it the best you could, you pulled back and smiled at him. 

The four of you headed out of the hotel you were staying at and headed to one of the many bars nearby. Matt offered to buy the first round and before you knew it the first round was gone and many later there was a new set of shots being placed before you. You threw each of them back before grinning at Richard.

-

-

-

You woke the next morning with a groan, eyebrows knitting together when you heard someone laugh and somebody else shush them. You slowly peeled your eyes open, screwing them shut again at the light, before opening them again and seeing Richard and Rob on the bed with you. Rich looked as good as you felt whereas Rob looked fine. You shot a glare at him before sitting up.

“Morning sunshine, ready for your panels this afternoon?” Rob laughed causing you to groan. You, Ruth, Kim and Briana had a group panel later on this afternoon and the thought of it made you feel worse than the hangover. There was no way you were cancelling though, you knew the fans spent so much money to be here and you wouldn’t ever disappoint them like that.

“God, Robbie do my panel for me.” You pleaded as you leaned against Rich’s shoulder, his head falling on yours.

“I would if I could.” He told you and you groaned. This was going to be the longest panel of your life but you had to do it, just grin and bear it. What could go wrong?

-

-

-

“So, Y/N, your character Trinity and Rowena are finally getting together this season, something the fans have been wanting since you were introduced to each other. I was just wondering what that means for your real life relationship and how do you feel that the writers added that relationship in?”

Everything. That’s what could go wrong. 

You’d taken a shower and some headache tablets, finding the hang over wasn’t actually that bad once you’d freshened up and ate. You’d gotten ready and walked over to the convention centre with Rob, Rich and Matt who had their own panels. 

You’d greeted Kim and Briana with hugs but then stopped when you saw Ruth, you felt like you needed to be professional but it really hurt. Kim and Briana noticed the tension but thankfully said nothing, whether Ruth had told them or not you had no idea.

You always felt you were quite honest. You let the public in on such a huge part of your life, tried not to have too many secrets for people to exploit but now, after listening to, what was it, Sasha’s question you had no idea what to do. You couldn’t say your relationship was great because that was bull and you had no  idea what you relationship was anymore. Sure you broke up but what more than that. Could you ever be friends with the women you love?

“Good question. You know I think it’s amazing that girls have these two very strong-minded women to look up to and see that yes they’re lesbian and bisexual but that doesn’t have to define you or hold you back. I like how the writers don’t base a character of their sexuality, meaning that like even with Charlie, you know, the way she was announced as lesbian was so chill and not her defining quality. I think it’s going to be important for people to have these characters to look up to and aspire to be like.” You said honestly, that part of the question was great, loved it, it was just the other half. You paused whilst everyone cheered, including your costars on the stage.

“When it comes to mine and Ruth’s relationship, honestly, I can’t answer it because we haven’t had a chance to explore Trinity and Rowena yet. Either it will be just like filming is now or it could have some affect. I really don’t know the answer to that yet.” People cheered once you answered and you let out a sigh of relief, smiling at Kim as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and squeezed. Ok then, they definitely knew. You couldn’t be mad though, after all you’d told Rob and given permission for him to tell Rich and Matt.

-

-

-

Thankfully the rest of your panels for the weekend pasted fairly quickly and without incident. Now you were all headed to the airport together, most of you heading to Vancouver but some like Matt, Kim and Briana were heading home. 

The thought of filming was filling you with dread but still you knew you had to act professional. So many people looked up to your character, and to you, and you knew you had to prevail. This was your job, there was no time to get caught up in personal drama. You knew when you began dating Ruth that there was always that chance you two could break up and you’d just had to deal with it.

Sighing to yourself you got out of the car, picked your suitcases up and checked in, saying your goodbyes to Matt who headed towards a different terminal. You sat with Rob and Richard, squeezing Richard’s hand to try to soothe some of the anxiety he was feeling over flying. 

You looked over and saw Ruth was sat with Jared, Jensen and Misha. You couldn’t help but frown. You’d asked for space and she’d given it to you so why were you feeling so, so, God you couldn’t even explain what you were feeling. That was frustrating, everything about this situation was frustrating. 

Taking your hand out of Richard’s you stood up and grabbed your bag.

“Where you going?” Rob asked quietly, giving you a smile as he did. You smiled back before answering.

“The plane doesn’t get her for another hour and a half, two hours. I’m just gonna go stretch my legs.” He nodded at you before turning back to Rich.

You chanced one more glance at Ruth, who was watching you with sad eyes before she turned back to Jared who was saying something to the group.

With a frown you walked away from your costars and friends before heading to one of the coffee shops that were in the airport and ordering a hot drink to fight the slight chill you felt in the winter weather. 

You couldn’t even get a chance to come to terms with everything. You were aware you were constantly in the spotlight, whether it was paps or fans, someone had a camera and if you broke down in a Costa coffee shop it would definitely be front page on Twitter’s news section.

Two weeks of filming, that was it until you wrapped for Christmas and then you were back at it again for another six months, so the new season was ready for next October. God, two more weeks until you were alone. You hadn’t even thought about where you were staying, currently you and Ruth had a cute place in California that you stayed at when you weren’t in the UK, Canada or another state filming. 

“This is such a mess.” You mumbled to yourself.

You looked up when you heard a delicate voice saying your name hesitantly. 

“May I sit with you?” Ruth stood with her own hot cup of tea, looking at you with hopeful eyes. You figured you’d have to talk to her before you started filming and this was as good a time as any.

You nodded and gestured to the seat in front of you which she took.

“Look, Y/N, what I said-” You cut her off.

“You were right. It wasn’t working, Ruth, but now we’ve got a job to do and people depending on us.”

“I know but we can get past this right? At least speak to each other when we’re in the same room without a script? This is the longest we’ve gone without talking to each other, dear.” 

“Maybe one day but it hurts too much now.”

-

-

-

Filming was back in full swing, today you were filming episode three. You were shooting five scenes today, four of them involve you and Ruth. One scene was you two sort of coming out to Sam and Dean but not really. There was no official coming out but it was obvious you two were dating, you and Jensen would have a scene together later were you’d talk about it whilst researching. You loved how coming out for your characters on the show was done so naturally, no need to explicitly come out and everyone was accepting. 

Thankfully, Richard Speight was directing the episode and you felt a bit more at ease.

“Y/N, to set.” You headed over, hugging Rich when you saw him and got into position. 

“Ready. Episode 3, Scene 6, take 1 and action.”

Trinity walked into the room, coming to a halt when she saw Rowena stood behind the table with a book and some ingredients in front of her. You turned to Sam with a raised eyebrow.

“She agreed to help us find a way with the book.” You shrugged your shoulders at him before making you way over to Rowena. You stopped before her and she paused in her chopping, looking over at you. 

“Hey.” You grinned at her before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. God this felt right, you couldn’t help but think. It brought tears to your eyes as you felt that constant feeling of hurt stab through you. Pulling away from the kiss, the grin still plastered on your face, Rowena reached over and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Hey yourself.” She greeted before turning back to her work. 

“Mind giving me a hand, dearie? Grind those for me.” She gestured over to the mortar and pestle that had some ingredients in it. You reached for it with a shaky hand that you hoped the camera didn’t pick up and got to work. You knew this was going to be hard, you thought as the others around you spoke their lines, but not this hard.

You somehow managed to get scene 6 done in only a few takes before they were ready for you on the other set stage. This was your scene with Jensen, or Dean.

“So,” he began, a smirk settling on his face, “you and Rowena, huh?” You grinned at Dean whilst simultaneously rolling your eyes.

“Shut up.” You warned.

“No, no, I gotta ask. Gotta make sure my girls not gonna get hurt.” 

You let out a laugh, it should have been humorous but it came out more like a choked sob. 

You clenched your eyes together before hearing Rich call cut. 

“Sorry.” You choked out before Jensen wrapped his arms around you.

“S’alright, nothing to be sorry about. Let’s take a quick pause, yeah?” You nodded against his chest feeling stupid, you were the one banging on about getting your job done yet here you were crying on set whilst shooting a scene. 

Richard came over and handed you some water, holding your shoulder as he did. You thanked him and gulped it down before taking a deep breath. You were aware Ruth was on set, could see her looking at you if you looked to the side hard enough.

“Sorry, I’m ok.” Jensen and Rich both looked like they doubted you but got back into place.

“Take it from your line for me Jens.” Richard said. 

“Episode 3, Scene 8, take 2 and action.”

“No, no, I gotta ask. Gotta make sure my girls not gonna get hurt.” Dean repeated and you let out the laugh you were supposed to.

“First of all, not your girl,” You said with a fake glare, causing him to laugh. “Second of all, she’s not gonna hurt me and if she does, trust me I can handle it myself.”

“Yeah, I know you can. Doesn’t mean I gotta like it though. My girls growing up on me, dating 300 year old witches. What is it with this family and Supernatural creatures, I mean Sam and Ruby, you had the hots for Lucifer-”

“I did not!” You denied, rolling your eyes at him.

“Yeah, sure, ok, let’s go with that.” He laughed. “You happy with her?” Here you got choked up but recovered swiftly.

“You know what Dean, I am, I really am. Never thought I’d get to experience what I’m feeling in this life but with Rowena, it’s, it’s, God Dean I can’t describe it but I think I could really love her one day.” You painted a love-sick grin on your face, letting it fade slightly once Jensen drew you in for a hug.

“If you’re happy then I’m happy, kiddo.”

“And cut. Beautiful guys, beautiful.”

-

-

-

That was the longest two weeks of your life. You’d had to kiss Ruth more times than you could count and it hurt more and more each time, like a knife twisted each time you kissed. Your friends were supportive and you were so thankful for them.

You were even more thankful that the two weeks was up and you were finally heading back to California. It had started snowing in Vancouver and you wanted to get out before the snow storm hit. 

Your flight was the same one Ruth was taking. Considering you were going the same place it made sense but still you felt sad. The anger had faded and now you were just sad. This was also the first time in a long time you had nobody to go back to when you finished filming and it sucked.

-

-

-

You often told yourself you could get through things life threw at you. Always asked yourself ‘what could possibly go wrong?’ and then guess what happened, everything went bloody wrong.

Take now for example, filming was shaky at best but now you were heading home. What could possibly go wrong? Right. Everything. Everything could go wrong.

The snow storm had hit and now you were snowed in at the airport. Literally no way home and you weren’t dressed for the winter chill that could be felt from within the airport, no you had a thin pair of sweats, a t-shirt and light jacket on because you thought you’d be stepping off the plane to be greeted by California’s weather. Nope.

 You’d been at the airport an hour when you couldn’t take the cold anymore. You had stood up and started pacing after an announcement had been made that it looked like everyone was stuck here at least overnight and tomorrow. The snow was heavy enough to lock you in the airport, that’s the last time I ask myself what could possibly go wrong.

Ruth looked at you with sad eyes. She knew you hated the cold. Winter mornings were some of her favourite moments with you, when you pouted at her to stay in bed with you and you’d cuddle up together underneath a thick duvet and a mountain of soft blankets on top of you. Some morning TV playing quietly as you warmed up, gently, lazy kisses shared as you spoke about everything and nothing at the same time. Why had she let you go? 

“Y/N.” Ruth’s voice made you look up. You saw her pull out some blankets from her overnight bag she packed, a bag filled with things that would be useful in case of an emergency such as this. You always told her she’d never need it, you’d never been so glad to be wrong.

“Come here.” You obeyed her and sat next to her, grimacing slightly as you sat on the floor but sighed happily as two blankets were place over you. She frowned as you shivered and ended up taking her coat off and making you wear if, even though you protested, though truth be told they were half-hearted at best and she could see that. It made her grin.

“I have snacks.” You told her, pulling your own bag close and pulling out some of your favourite snacks. You gave her a bag and got one for yourself. 

“You know, if you had let me finish that day in Costa, I would have told you that I didn’t actually want to break up. Blimey, I love you dear. I’ve never loved anyone like I’ve love you but with work and everything it’s just been one stressful day after another and I guess it snowballed into something bigger.” 

You turned to looked at her and she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your red nose and the pink blanket that was pulled tight and tucked under your chin. 

“You really didn’t want to break up with me?” God you sounded like a twelve-year-old with her first boyfriend or something. 

“Of course not, look at ya. I’d be a fool to let you go.”

“I tried to hate you,” You said honestly, watching her face fall, “I did. I thought it’d be easier to deal with but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Her face lit up as she laughed softly. 

“I’m sorry, dearie, for even suggesting we break up. You think we could still be together? We communicate more, tell the other when they need space and just try to make things a bit better.” You thought about it, there was nothing to think about though. You loved this women and couldn’t picture yourself with anyone else.

“Yeah,” you said with a grin, “I think we can make it work.” She rolled her eyes at you, smiling just as widely at you as you were her. Without thinking about it you leaned forward, kissing her softly and savouring every second of it. Kissing her as Rowena had been agony but now it was pure bliss.

When you pulled away, you both just stared at each other, smiling like two love-sick puppies.

“Ok now that we’re back together, will you please cuddle me? I’m freezing!” You exclaimed causing her to laugh but do as you said, placing a kiss to your head as she did.

Things were far from perfect, there was no denying that, but with a little work and communication what could possibly go wrong?

Hello everyone ! This is a little message for the people who read "Between the Pages, I Found Your Heart". First of all, thank you very much, it really makes me happy.

And secondly I decided to repost this story, and therefore resume writing it, on another blog for personal organizational reasons. It's quite different from what I usually do and it's easier for me to compartmentalize my different projects this way.

I deleted the original posts and will delete this one soon as well, all my (future) projects with reader inserts will on my other blog.

(I'm just disappointed that I can't keep the reviews that were left on my first posts but thank you very much once again. It really encouraged me to write the first five chapters in just one week.)

I hope you don't mind and continue reading, this story is also in AO3 if you prefer. Happy reading!

If Wings Could Speak, Yours Would Be Screaming (Crowley x fem!Reader)

Characters: Reader (Female), Crowley

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @where-did-the-good-ones-go

Point of View: Third Person Crowley

Warnings: cursing

Words:  812

A/N: I feel like this might be a bit rushed? But I hope you enjoy it! I was surprised with how much fun I had writing it - at first I wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but I think I did pretty okay! Enjoy!

—

Keep reading

Bahahabahababdjdkwnbhglgllbahlllgrrrfrfh

I'm crying rhis is just so-

The most fic I have read in a while

Oh, the EMOTIONS

Five More Minutes (Good Omens Drabble)

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: Your partners catch you singing under your breath.

CW: tooth rotting fluff- make your dentist appointments now

Gomens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

It’s a peaceful morning, for once. No impending doom, no threat of Armageddon, no Heaven or Hell bearing down on all sides. Just a lovely, quiet morning. Your partners had left already by the time you had gotten up in the morning, off doing something they shouldn’t, you supposed. Usually, they’d invite you with them, but they must have known you’d needed a sleep-in. In all honesty, you had been getting a little crabby lately. 

There was just something different about today. Maybe it was the warm light pouring through the kitchenette window… Fresh sunlight always made you feel fresh and centred. You popped the jug on and moved over to the radio to turn it on. You had discovered some time back that Aziraphale had put a miracle on the old, vintage thing to instantly find a station that was playing one of your favourite artists. When you’d asked him about this, he’d blushed and spluttered out that he didn’t think you’d notice. He loved doing little things like that for you. 

Today, the little radio knew exactly what it was doing and flipped to a station playing one of your favourite songs. You grinned, swanning about the kitchenette to make yourself a cup of tea. You were humming and singing along with the song as you went, hips bopping and swaying just slightly to the music. Yeah, today was going to be a good day.

When you’d made your tea and breakfast, you pulled all the items into the back office room of the Bookshop, settling them down and wandering over to the bookcase Crowley had put in for you, saying you should have somewhere for your own books to read. The both of them sometimes left little novellas and things they thought you might like somewhere on the shelf for you to find, too. It was incredibly sweet of them.

It was as you were reaching up for a book just out of your reach on the top shelf that a warm hand pressed into your side and another hand reached for the novel you were going for. You all but shrieked in surprise, and twirled around to see Crowley lounging on your office chair and Aziraphale pressing up against you with a soft smile on his lips. Crowley was giving the two of you an incredibly soft barely imperceptible smile. Not something you necessarily see a whole lot from him.

“Here, my dear, let me get that for you,” the Angel says softly, grabbing the book and passing it to Crowley, who takes it without question or complaint. You give Aziraphale a confused look. You wanted that. “It’s been quite some time since we heard you singing, love.” 

Your cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink. A nervous giggle bubbled out of you. 

“Oh, you heard that, did you?” 

“Fraid so, Pet,” Crowley said, a little smirk edging its way onto his features. The Demon discarded his sunglasses on the desk. “Better than Mercury, in my opinion.” 

You rolled your eyes and looked back at your Angel, who had been surreptitiously placing one hand on your waist and one in your own. With a look towards Crowley, the Demon leaned over to turn the radio up. You grinned, joy radiating off you in waves. Your lovers seemed to bask in its warmth as Aziraphale led you in a dance. He always did love to dance. 

When Aziraphale danced with you, it was soft, and usually some kind of dance he’d learned many years ago and seemed all too determined to bring back to the twenty-first century. When Crowley danced with you it was chaotic and without form, the both of you jumping around and doing whatever seemed to fit the song and the moment. You loved them both. 

Crowley stood and came to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around the both of you, and Aizraphale dropped your waist and your hand to do the same, so you were cocooned in love and affection. You sighed in pure relief, leaning into them. 

Crowley started to sway to the music. Back and forth, humming softly to the tune. It was one of your favourites, so he’d heard it plenty of times. More than enough to learn the melody and the words. 

You basked in their love for a few more minutes before clearing your throat sadly. 

“As much as I am loving this, my tea will be going cold.” Yet you made no movements to escape their embrace. 

“No, it won’t,” Crowley replied knowingly, resting his chin on the top of your head as you swayed to the beat. Ah, he’d pulled a miracle to keep your tea and breakfast hot. How thoughtful of him.

“Just five more minutes, my dear?” Aziraphale asked softly, sighing with pleasure into your shoulder. How could you say no to that?

“Five more minutes, then,” you agreed.

Somebody to Love

Crowley x Reader/OC x Aziraphale

_ _ _

I didn’t want to anwer, and she looked up at me. Her eyes were puffy and her nose pink, she stared me down with a fragile gaze.

“What did he look like?” she repeated, her tone firmer. My hands came up to her face, holding together a celestial being who would very well break under the pressure of the world.

“He has your eyes.”

If any demon could see me now, they would laugh. They would laugh and say the great Crowley has gone native - has gone soft. But I wouldn’t care to kill them for it because they don’t matter.

The only person whose opinion I cared for what infront of me, and she needed me.

Another sob racked her body, her forehead against mine as a flush of anger and sadness washed over her.

And all I did - all I could do, was hold her.

_

Fanfic posted on AO3! It's a poly fanfic between Crowley, Aziraphale and Lilith - first wife of Adam and Mother of Demons

Low-key wanna make a poly x reader with Aziraphale and Crowley where they plan a huge day with reader and propose at the end, but then realize she's also proposing to them and it's fluffy and wholesome

Why is there a roll in the oven?

Crowley x fem presenting! reader x Aziraphale

Background: you try and make a cute video revealing your pregnancy to your husbands but it goes wrong

_ _ _

You had it all ready.

Under the guise is getting something to pop in the oven for dinner, you went to the store to buy the usual groceries. Aziraphale wanted to join you, but you reminded him that he can't just close early.

Even if he never sold any books.

You quickly ran inside, bags in your hands but Crowley was in the kitchen. "Let me take those, love."

"No!" You shouted, stepping back.

"No. . .? Is everything alright?" You never rejected their help when bringing in anything, so this startled Crowley.

"Yes, yes. I just. . .don't want to ruin the surprise," you explained quickly, walking around him to place the bags on the counter top.

"Surprise?" His tone was suggestive, bringing heat to your face, "not that kind of surprise, Crowley."

He chuckled, the same smirk on his lips as he kissed the back of your neck sweetly. Crowley grew more touchy once your relationship blossomed. In public, his hands were always occupied by one on your waist and the other holding Aziraphales hand. Sometimes it alternated, but it was basically a warning to anyone looking. "Yes, they're both mine. Fuck off", was the statement.

"Oh and do let Azira know not to come into the kitchen. Thank you," You pressed a chaste kiss to your demon, who hummed before walking away with a smile.

The proposal was unexpected but sweet.

Having been together for years, Crowley and Aziraphale came up with a day entirely about you. They took you to your favorite bakery in France, went to the aquarium, dined at The Ritz for lunch and finally had a lovely dinner at home. Your favorite red candles were lit, the scent wafting through the air. Aziraphale started with a speech, pledging his eternal love for you. Crowley finished off by claiming how he felt undeserving of this kind of love, but loved you with his entire being and wouldn't have any other beings to spend his life with.

And they both proposed.

You cried - a lot, which initially worried them because "why isn't she saying yes???"

But you explained messily by saying you were planning to propose, pulling out a single box with two gold bands and inside carved "my heart, forevermore".

You all cried.

"Don't go into the kitchen, angel," Crowley put his hand on his shoulder as he came home for the day, hanging his coat on the rack.

"(Y/N) is planning a surprise."

"A surprise?" Aziraphale asked, "but it's not our anniversary. Oh, is it that strawberry cake we like?"

Crowley shrugged, "don't know, but she's serious about it."

After setting up the camera, an excited smile on your face, you set it to record.

"Azira!" You poked your head out, running to your angel before giving him a longing kiss. Aziraphale returned it happily, his hands setting themselves on your face.

"Someone's in a good mood," Aziraphales' voice dropped lower, which would usually send them into a spiral and beg him to use that voice in the bedroom.

But that was for later.

"Come, come," she ushered them both into the kitchen.

"Now, both of you, open the oven," she was grinning wildly, unable to contain her excitement.

"Both of us. . .?" Crowley questioned.

"Humor me, my love," she replied and her ineffable husbands obeyed, and stilled.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Why is there a roll in the oven?" Crowley questioned.

"And why is it on fire?" Aziraphale added.

"Oh shit!" She cursed, running to grab one of the many fire extinguishers that Aziraphale insisted they needed after the shop caught fire.

"Shit, shit, shit!" She yelled, running back and immediately putting out the fire. But she didn't stop using it, even after the flames were clearly out.

"Flower, put it down."

"My dear, is everything alright?"

Her lips were brought into a frown as she sighed, eyes clouding with tears. They exchanged a worried glance before the first sob escaped.

"I-I wanted to make it special, but now. . .oh I forgot I turned it on for dinner," she hiccuped as they brought her in for a hug. Crowley stroked her hair whilst Aziraphale pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"It's okay, my love. We can order out," Aziraphale reassured but she sighed in frustration.

"No, no, it's not that. I. . .bun in the oven!"

"Bun in the oven?" Crowley repeated, confused.

"Bun in the. . .oven. . ." Aziraphale realized, looking at his wife with a growing smile. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes, I'm pregnant," you laughed gently as you tried to wipe the tears but Aziraphale began to cover your face in kisses. "Oh she's pregnant! Crowley, we're going to be fathers!"

"Crowley. . .?" You asked, not seeing a response from him. He took off his glasses, revealing a light sheen over his serpentine eyes before he kneeled down and leant his head against your stomach.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your stomach and looking up at you, "thank you, my love."

"And it's twins," you added, causing your celestial beings to look at eachother immediately.

"Is it. . .?"

"I don't know. . .I mean, it could be. . ."

But they didn't care in reality. All that mattered was that you were healthy, carrying twin babies, a bun that was preciously on fire and ordering takeout whilst relaxing with your husbands.

Hello my stars! Sorry I’ve been gone for so long :,) but it is now summer and have too much time so please give me all requests you want!^^

Fandoms I will write for

Supernatural (platonic and romantic)

- Team free will

-Jack

-Crowley

-Rowena

-all the arch angels but Raphael

The black phone (platonic or romantic)

- dead boys crew

-Finney and Gwen Blake

Yurri voice (platonic or romantic)

- Everyone but Derek

(I couldn’t find a gif sorry, my stars🥲)

What I won’t write

Smut

Yandere

Hurt no comfort

Abuse

Piss or shit kinks

Child x adult (romantic)

Cis Fem readers

What I will write

Child x adult (PLATONIC)

Trans fem and masc readers

Male readers

Hurt with comfort

And pretty much anything else

Preferences for requests

Try to be at least a little specific in what you want and some story stuff you want ^^

That’s all my stars! Have fun requesting, make sure you drink water, eat food, and have a lovely day my stars!⭐️

Oh dear Chuck. My heart cant take it!! Absolutely love this!!

A Spell of Ice and Fire

A/N: I took a bit of creative license; played fast and loose with the continuity.  Because, well… I find Pellegrino hotter than Casifer.  And I’m the Chuck of this little world. MUAHAHAHAH!  ::ahem::  …Anyway, I hope you like it!!!  Also, thank you for your patience.  See?  I do take requests!  I just…. take a long time on them…. 

Menu Warnings: ALL THE SMUT!!  Power struggle, sex magic, Demon Power!Kink, Cold!kink (is that a thing?  I’m sure that’s a thing), equal-opportunity oral sex, orgasm denial (more like inattentive partner, but…), unprotected sex (Porn is not real life, y'all.), really rough sex, restraint, ménage a trois, almost-death by hypothermia.  And if that’s not enough, strong language and drinking.

Word Count: 5,300ish (Yes, it’s a bit long.  But you’re getting two for the price of one, here.)

The picture was everything Crowley liked.  You, in your black lace robe and nothing else, reclined on your bed, cut crystal glass of Glencraig in hand.  If this didn’t get his attention, nothing would.

<It’s rude to make me drink alone> You typed under the photo, and hit send.  And waited.  And waited.  And then you drank your scotch alone.

It had been three weeks since the bastard had contacted you.  Granted, you’d been keeping your relationship quiet (he had a whole dimension to run, you had your coven to look after, and his continued contact with the Winchester brothers could be hazardous to your health), but still.  He had never gone more than a day or two without at least a text.  You were starting to worry.  

Lucifer lounged on the throne, one leg thrown over the armrest, thumbing through Crowley’s phone.  When the picture and text came through, a look of glee diffused his face, and he leapt up to saunter over to Crowley’s cage.

“Well, lookie lookie here, doggie.  Seems your bitch is in heat.”  He crouched down to wave the phone in front of Crowley’s face.  The captive king lunged, threw his hand through the bars, and tried to grab the phone, but Lucifer was too fast.

“Bad dog.”  The devil studied your picture for a while, an evil glow in his eyes.  “You know, this one isn’t half bad.  Definitely out of your league- how did you get that?”  He squinted at the screen.  “Waaait a minute.  There are hex bag goodies on that table in the background.  Are you schtupping a witch?  Oh, that’s just too deliciously Oedipal.  Does your mother know what you’ve been up to, young man?”

Crowley snarled around his gag, which delighted his captor.  Giggling, Lucifer began tapping out a response.  “You know, I work really hard.  I think I deserve some fun, what do you think, Dog?”

Keep reading

Oh dear Chuck. My heart cant take it!! Absolutely love this!!

A Spell of Ice and Fire

A/N: I took a bit of creative license; played fast and loose with the continuity.  Because, well… I find Pellegrino hotter than Casifer.  And I’m the Chuck of this little world. MUAHAHAHAH!  ::ahem::  …Anyway, I hope you like it!!!  Also, thank you for your patience.  See?  I do take requests!  I just…. take a long time on them…. 

Menu Warnings: ALL THE SMUT!!  Power struggle, sex magic, Demon Power!Kink, Cold!kink (is that a thing?  I’m sure that’s a thing), equal-opportunity oral sex, orgasm denial (more like inattentive partner, but…), unprotected sex (Porn is not real life, y'all.), really rough sex, restraint, ménage a trois, almost-death by hypothermia.  And if that’s not enough, strong language and drinking.

Word Count: 5,300ish (Yes, it’s a bit long.  But you’re getting two for the price of one, here.)

The picture was everything Crowley liked.  You, in your black lace robe and nothing else, reclined on your bed, cut crystal glass of Glencraig in hand.  If this didn’t get his attention, nothing would.

<It’s rude to make me drink alone> You typed under the photo, and hit send.  And waited.  And waited.  And then you drank your scotch alone.

It had been three weeks since the bastard had contacted you.  Granted, you’d been keeping your relationship quiet (he had a whole dimension to run, you had your coven to look after, and his continued contact with the Winchester brothers could be hazardous to your health), but still.  He had never gone more than a day or two without at least a text.  You were starting to worry.  

Lucifer lounged on the throne, one leg thrown over the armrest, thumbing through Crowley’s phone.  When the picture and text came through, a look of glee diffused his face, and he leapt up to saunter over to Crowley’s cage.

“Well, lookie lookie here, doggie.  Seems your bitch is in heat.”  He crouched down to wave the phone in front of Crowley’s face.  The captive king lunged, threw his hand through the bars, and tried to grab the phone, but Lucifer was too fast.

“Bad dog.”  The devil studied your picture for a while, an evil glow in his eyes.  “You know, this one isn’t half bad.  Definitely out of your league- how did you get that?”  He squinted at the screen.  “Waaait a minute.  There are hex bag goodies on that table in the background.  Are you schtupping a witch?  Oh, that’s just too deliciously Oedipal.  Does your mother know what you’ve been up to, young man?”

Crowley snarled around his gag, which delighted his captor.  Giggling, Lucifer began tapping out a response.  “You know, I work really hard.  I think I deserve some fun, what do you think, Dog?”

Keep reading

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 [𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑] [𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏]

First Supernatural fic! A little short (in my standards), may conjure up another part if it goes well. This takes place just shortly after Sam gets his soul back and he's still coping.

SUMMARY: Y/N is a well renowned hunter who keeps to herself. After losing her sister (among many other family members) during a hunt to a devastating monster, she locks herself in for good with nothing but rage pumping through her veins.

It's rumored she holds a weapon that, besides the colt, can kill anything. It's become a big deal in the past, many hunters trying to take it for themselves, only to be cursed, injured or even dead in the process. That was until it was revealed who had given it to Y/N.

What will happen when she runs into the Winchester brothers during a hunt for the very thing that has destroyed her family?

Written in third person, female!reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ

Very novel-esque writing. i'm sorry. i got carried away

ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 4,390

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

The forest lay draped in an eternal shroud of darkness, the silvery glow of the moon casting faint, ghostly beams that struggled to penetrate the dense web of ancient trees. The atmosphere was thick with an otherworldly chill, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Tall, gnarled trunks rose like skeletal sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the heavens in silent supplication.

Eerie whispers, like faint echoes from another realm, seemed to drift on the breeze. Soft susurrations carried the promise of secrets, secrets that the forest had guarded for centuries. These spectral utterances mingled with the rustle of leaves and the faint creaking of branches, creating a symphony of sound that was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

Amid this haunting tapestry of shadows and whispers, a lone figure moved with a desperate urgency. A slim young woman, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as her heart pounded in sync with the frantic rhythm of her footsteps. The ground beneath her seemed to tremble with her every stride, her bare feet sore from each scratch and scrape from twigs, rocks and leaves underneath, each footfall a desperate plea for escape.

The forest's inhabitants—creatures of the night and unseen beings—watched from their hidden sanctuaries, their eyes glinting with a luminescence. Yet, none could compare to the ominous presence that stalked the innocent woman.

In the ethereal twilight, illusions took shape like phantoms conjured from the darkest recesses of the mind. The voices of fellow hunters, once allies and friends, one even her own older sister, twisted and distorted into a chorus of accusation and betrayal. Their spectral forms advanced with a relentless determination, a parade of torment born from her own insecurities.

"Disgusting!"

"You're not strong enough! You don't belong with us!"

"You never did!"

"YOU ONLY HOLD US BACK!"

Countless insults and howls, hurls of venom and anger were thrown at the woman. As she sprinted through the labyrinthine woods, the cacophony of voices swirled around her like a tempest. The shadows themselves seemed to coil and writhe, mirroring her inner turmoil. But amidst the maelstrom of chaos, one face emerged from the torment—Y/N.

Y/N's expression was a mosaic of sorrow and anger, anger for all of this to be happening, anger for her sister as this creature manipulates her. Her eyes twin beacons of hope in the encroaching darkness. "Emily, Emily!" The voice behind her cried, far different from the others, "It's not real! Fight it!"

Emily turned around to face the direction of her sister's yells, her body jerking slightly with her movement as she catches a glimpse of Y/N, running with her arm reaching out to her. Quickly, she turned back, hopping over a large boulder she would have tripped over. Panic pumped through her veins, and her heart felt as if it was going to burst out of her chest.

Amid the twisted labyrinth of trees, Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she closed in on her sister. Her footsteps were swift and quick as if she drifted through the air, each one a prayer to reach Emily in time, to pull her back from the precipice of the consuming darkness. Emily's breath came in ragged gasps, her panicked sobs echoing like haunting melodies of a woman in white through the shadows drenching the forest.

"Emily! Emily, it's me!" Y/N yelled once more, a lifeline of vague comfort in the midst of it all. Her arms stretched out, fingers yearning to grasp onto the fleeting fabrics of the younger woman's clothing. Emily's movements were wild and uncontrolled, her form swaying as if caught in a cruel dance with harsh winds.

Their eyes locked, and Y/N's heart shattered at the sight of the expression on the face of her other half. "Emily, please, look at me. You're not alone. I'm right here." Her voice trembled with a potent blend of fear and nausea, a plea for Emily to recognize how real she is and how fake everything else is.

Emily's cries were a symphony of agony, tears streaking her dirt-stained cheeks. "Y/N, make it stop! Make it stop, please!" Her voice cracked. She reached out with trembling hands, fingers brushing Y/N's arm as if seeking refuge from the torment that consumed her.

Y/N's heart bled as she closed the final distance, her arms enfolding Emily in an embrace. She could feel the violent tremors that wracked her sister's body, the very essence of her being gripped by a bitter chill. "I'm here, Emily. I won't let it take you," Y/N whispered fiercely, her lips brushing against Emily's sweat-dampened forehead.

Yet, even as Y/N held onto her sister, a sinister current coursed through the air. The shadows seemed to thicken, a malevolent presence looming ever closer. Emily's cries escalated into agonized screams, her body convulsing with the force of the darkness that sought to claim her. Y/N's heart raced, every fiber of her being consumed by a profound and paralyzing fear.

As Emily's eyes met Y/N's, a chilling realization dawned – the vibrant blue that had once sparkled with life was fading, eclipsed by an encroaching grayness that spread like tendrils of frost. Y/N's grip tightened, her own voice trembling with a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Emily, fight it! Hold on!"

Emily's voice wavered, words barely audible through the guttural moans that tore from her lips. "It's so cold, Y/N. Everything's so cold...so dark. Make it stop, please..." Her voice trailed off into a pained whimper, the shadows swallowing her words and leaving only the haunting echo of her suffering.

Y/N's fingers brushed against Emily's clammy skin, the chill of the shadows seeping into her very soul. With every ounce of strength she possessed, Y/N fought against the consuming void, her voice a soothing murmur. "I won't let it take you, dammit!" Anger boiled inside, "Get the hell off of her!"

Just as the darkness threatened to claim Emily completely, a distant rustling broke through the sound of struggle. Y/N's heart leaped as figures emerged from the shadows—the real, other hunters, their expressions etched with concern. They had followed Y/N's trail of yells and cries, arriving in the nick of time.

Y/N's voice trembled, a mild wave of relief as she sees the others. "Help her! We need to help her!" The hunters rushed forward, their hands reaching out to lend their strength. Together, they formed a shield against the darkness, a defiant stance against the malevolent force that sought to tear Emily from their grasp.

Emily's cries and convulsions intensified, her body wracked by spasms as the battle raged within her. Her hair was etched in a misty black, while her clothing was oozing with the same. Y/N's heart ached as she held onto her sister, her voice a fervent plea as she looked to the heavens. "Please, don't let her go! Not like this!" She sobbed. She held Emily tight, rocking her back and forth. She had lost so much, most of her family was already dead or turned. She'd barely consider other hunters as anything more than allies. She was terrified of becoming too attached.

And this is exactly why.

Silence. No movement, no cries, she didn't even breathe. Emily's petite figure went cold and limp in her big sister's arms, a shriek tearing through the cold air.

"EMILY!"

The veil of unconsciousness lifted, tearing Y/N from the depths of sleep into a realm of disorienting wakefulness. In an instant, her senses snapped to attention, an electric surge of panic and anxiety coursing through her veins. With a sudden jolt, she sat up, her chest heaving as if she had finished running a marathon. The room around her was shrouded in sunlight pooling in through the old vintage curtains.

A strangled cry forced itself through her lips, a raw and primal sound that echoed through the empty walls. It was a cry born of a terror she couldn't quite grasp. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the blankets below her hands, huffing.

Heartbeats drummed in her ears, a relentless rhythm that matched the frantic pace of her thoughts. The sweat-soaked tendrils of her hair clung to her forehead. She drew in ragged breaths, each inhalation a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the dream and the waking world.

Tears blurred her vision, the remnants of her subconscious torment mingling with the harsh reality of her surroundings. It took precious moments for the room to come into focus, the familiar contours of furniture and shadows coalescing into a semblance of order. Yet, even as the nightmare's grip loosened, a residual ache settled deep within her chest.

"Emily..." The word escaped her lips in a choked whisper, a tremor of grief lacing her voice. The name hung heavy in the air, a fragile thread connecting the terror of her dreams to the ache of her waking heart. She clung to the sheets as if they were a lifeline, her fingers curling into fists against the overwhelming flood of emotions.

With a final sigh, Y/N hunched over with her head down. Her eyes shut, a tear falling into her lap, the drop being absorbed by the thick comforter snug tight over her legs. 

Mornings were never easy for Y/N. Each new day dawned as a reminder of the relentless challenges she faced, a testament to her resilience in the face of an unforgiving life. Even on her days off, a lingering unease nestled itself within the corners of her mind, stuck unto the wonders of impending danger. The cocoon of security she had woven around herself provided a shield, but it could never quite dispel the remaining possibility of danger.

She went about her normal daily routine. Eat, bathe, study—it was a day-today cycle she'd repeat without fail. The steady rhythm of these activities became her anchor, a lifeline that kept her tethered to a semblance of normalcy she lacked during her teen hood.

The simple act of nourishing herself felt like a small victory. The warm water during her shower offered a brief reprieve, a blanket of warmth throughout her entire figure. It was possibly the only place she could ever truly let her guard down—ignoring the many knives and handguns tucked away in every corner and crevice. And when she immersed herself in her studies of the unknown, her mind was at ease, eager to learn more like an intelligent child at their elite school.

She'd decided to take a bath that morning. The sound of the faucet turning on was a familiar symphony, the rushing of water a comforting melody that eased her eardrums. The room soon filled with the gentle hiss and gurgle of water as it flowed, a lullaby of sorts to her senses.

As steam gradually wafted through the air, tendrils of warmth caressed her skin. With each passing second, the room transformed into a retreat, the steam swirling like ethereal wisps that danced in the air. She undressed with a easeful grace, each garment slipping off her body and pooling onto the floor in a crumpled heap. The clothing, once a shield against the world's harshness, now lay forgotten as Y/N stepped out of its confines. The act of disrobing was more than a physical shedding; it was a ritualistic release, a shedding of layers that went beyond mere fabric. Each piece of clothing fell away, like a separate piece of heavy armor.

With a swift step, Y/N stepped into the tub. The warm water greeted her like an old friend, pooling around her calves. A sigh escaped her lips as she settled into the depths, the water rising to envelop her in its comforting embrace. Her mind was clouded with bliss, the weight of the stress not yet touching her core.

The water cocooned her body, its warmth seeping into her very bones as she closed her eyes. With each breath, she felt herself surrendering to the serenity of the moment, the rhythmic ebb and flow of her surroundings lulling her into a state of an addictive detachment.

The world beyond the bathroom door seemed distant, the sounds of the day muffled by the sanctuary she had created.

With ease, her fingers trailed along her arms, the soft glide of her touch a soothing ritual that whispered of self-care. The steam-kissed air enveloped her, carrying with it the subtle scent of her favorite from the bath salts that had dissolved into the water. As she reclined against the porcelain expanse, her muscles gradually surrendered their tension, each fiber yielding to the tender persuasion of the tranquil waters.

Slowly, Y/N's legs found themselves lifting, her knees bending as she settled into the contours of the tub. Her feet, once grounded on the porcelain floor, now found their resting place on the opposite end. The gentle swish of water accompanied her movements, a loving chorus that serenaded her senses.

Closing her eyes once more, Y/N let her head rest against the cool edge of the tub, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her mind now ebbed and flowed like the gentle ripples that lapped against her skin. The warmth enveloped her limbs, cradling each contour similar to her mother cradling her very essence in her tender hold from when she was a young child.

Her fingers dipped below the surface, the gentle tug of water playing a delicate dance with her touch. She traced the outlines of her own hands, the pathways of her palms etching stories of resilience and strength from each hunt, each death and heartbreak. The subtle currents tugged at her fingers, a gentle reminder that life was ever-present, a force that moved in rhythm with her own heartbeat.

Minutes slipped through her grasp like grains of sand, a fluid passage of time that seemed to stretch and contract with each breath. Y/N allowed herself to linger in the embrace of the bath, the world beyond the bathroom door fading into the periphery as the symphony of her senses took center stage.

As the soft glow of midday sunlight danced through the window, casting a warm embrace upon the room, Y/N's attention gravitated towards the sprawling tome that lay open before her. However, the once discerning gaze of the seasoned hunter seemed to drift, lost in the labyrinth of printed words that now merged into an abstract mosaic, their essence slipping through the sieve of her distracted thoughts. Within the confines of her mind, conflicting currents clashed - the steadfast determination that usually defined her, and an unsettling undercurrent of restless uncertainty.

Amidst the encroaching mental haze, a sharp ring pierced the air, jolting Y/N from her reverie. Swift and purposeful, she retrieved the phone and pressed it to her ear, her voice shaking from the startling event. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end carried an air of authority, a trusted hunter's tone that brooked no pleasantries. "Y/N," the voice began, a solemn cadence that bore the weight of urgency. "Got a case for you."

Y/N's eyes remained fixed on the open book, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the pages, a rhythmic dance of distraction. "Mirian," she acknowledged, a blend of reverence and intrigue imbued in her tone. The name held weight, signifying that when the hunter spoke, it was time to heed.

"There've been incidents," the hunter continued, unfolding a tale of unsettling attacks that painted a somber tableau. "Looks like the Chimera's up to its old tricks again."

A shiver coursed through Y/N's spine, a subtle reaction that betrayed the gravity of the name. Memories of past encounters surged forth like specters, a haunting tapestry of battles fought and won against this formidable adversary. Especially Emily's death. Mirian’s words wove a narrative of danger and enigma, a reminder of the stakes at play.

Her responses remained poised, a veneer of calm that masked the storm beneath. "I understand," she murmured, her gaze breaking free from the book to meet the world outside the window. "And where did everything taken place?"

Location after location was recited by the older hunter, each name etching a somber mark on the canvas of Y/N's consciousness. She absorbed the information with a hunter's precision, each detail a clue to decipher, a thread to weave into a strategy. As the conversation progressed, an immediate plan unfurled in her mind, a mosaic of tactics and resolve that began to map out her forthcoming endeavors.

"Understood," Y/N finally affirmed, her voice a testament to her unwavering commitment to the task ahead. "I'll take it from here."

The unknown hunter's approval resonated through the line, a nod of satisfaction that lingered in the air. "Good. Other hunters are staying away from this one. Leaving it to you. Be vigilant, Y/N. Take it down for good."

The call ended, leaving Y/N alone with her ruminations once more. Her gaze returned to the open book, yet now, the printed words seemed to regain their clarity, each letter a beacon guiding her purpose. With a heavy sigh, Y/N shut the book, standing herself tall. Her gaze settled on the ancient leather-bound tome, its pages brimming with secrets of old, a knowledge bank she had accumulated over the years. With a decisive nod, she turned away, her steps carrying her towards the intricately carved wooden desk where her arsenal awaited.

Quickly, Y/N began to gather her essentials. She retrieved a leather-bound notebook, its pages filled with meticulous notes and diagrams of past encounters. A sense of reverence accompanied each turn of the pages, a reminder of the blood swear and tears put into every hunt. Beside it lay an assortment of vials, each containing concoctions brewed from rare ingredients, tailored to counteract the unique attributes of queer entities.

Her attention shifted to the polished surface of the desk, where an array of weapons gleamed in the subdued light. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of a knife, its blade etched with protective runes to enhance its efficacy. A revolver lay nearby, silver bullets meticulously loaded.

Yet, the centerpiece of her arsenal rested against the desk's corner—a sickle of exquisite craftsmanship. The black handle was adorned with intricate patterns and symbols, a labyrinth of gold engravings that seemed to dance in the faint light. The handle fit perfectly in her hand, a natural extension of her unequaled wrath. The blade itself gleamed wickedly, a crescent moon of lethal sharpness. Its edge bore the scars of countless battles, slick and sharp—a gift from Death himself.

As Y/N lifted the sickle, a surge of familiarity coursed through her veins. This weapon was an extension of her identity, a manifestation of the strength and purpose that had driven her. Its weight was comforting, grounding her in the face of vengeful intent.

With her arsenal gathered, Y/N slung the duffel over her shoulder and made her way to the doorway. As her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the doorknob, her gaze flickered to a small weapon hanging by the frame. It was a talismanic blade, a last resort concealed within easy reach. The hilt bore sigils of protection, a final safeguard against unexpected threats.

The weight of the sickle at her side was a reminder of her internal hatred, a beacon of hope to finally destroy this Chimera once and for all. Y/N stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

Bobby's house exuded a sense of warmth and home, its well-worn interior serving as a refuge for the trio of hunters seeking respite from the world outside. The worn leather armchairs bore the marks of countless conversations and the shelves lining the walls were crammed with dusty books, relics of knowledge accumulated over decades of hunting. The air was tinged with the aroma of brewing coffee, a constant companion in the dimly lit haven.

Bobby sat hunched over his desk, his calloused fingers deftly dialing a number on his phone. The room seemed to hold its breath as the line connected, and he brought the receiver to his ear. His gruff voice echoed through the room as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

"Hey there, it's Bobby Singer. Listen, I've been hearin' about some strange happenings over in Pinehaven. Yeah, it's that little town off County Road 9. There've been a series of deaths – odd ones. People droppin' dead with no explanation, like they just gave up the ghost." Bobby's brows furrowed as he listened to the voice on the other end, his expression growing increasingly grim.

Sam and Dean Winchester exchanged wary glances, their senses heightened by the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the room. They leaned in, their attention fully captivated by Bobby's conversation.

"You don't say... Well, that sounds like a real mess. Yeah, it's been goin' on for a few weeks now. The victims – they're different ages, different backgrounds. Ain't nothin' connectin' 'em on the surface. And here's the kicker – their bodies are all found with these... bizarre markings carved into 'em. Like some sort of symbol."

Bobby's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and intrigue as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Yeah, I know it sounds like some pagan ritual, but that's where it gets even weirder. There's nothin' in any lore I've come across that matches these symbols. It's like some new kind of nasty is in town."

Sam leaned forward, his brow furrowing in contemplation. "So, what's our next move, Bobby?"

Bobby glanced at Sam and Dean before turning his attention back to the call, hanging up. "Look, I've tried gettin' some hunters interested in checkin' it out, but they're all keepin' their distance. Say it's too risky. Hell, even Garth – and you know he's usually up for a wild goose chase – turned it down."

Dean chuckled under his breath. "Well, Garth's got a point. But if it's got you scratching your head, Bobby, it's definitely worth a look."

Bobby nodded in agreement, a determined glint in his eyes. "Damn right, it is. I've got a bad feelin' about this one. We'll head over to Pinehaven, check out the crime scenes, see if we can find any leads."

Sam and Dean exchanged a nod. "You think it could be witches?" Sam asks.

Bobby scratched his scruffy beard in thought, his expression contemplative. "Could be, given the nature of the attacks and the symbols that've been showin' up around town. But we won't jump to conclusions just yet. Gotta gather more information before we start pointin' fingers."

Dean's lips curled into a half-smile, "Well, you know us, Bobby. We're always up for a good ol' witch hunt."

Bobby chuckled, a gruff sound that held a warm combination of amusement and fondness. "Just make sure you don't stir up trouble before you've got solid evidence. Last thing we need is a town full of pitchfork-wielding locals."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We'll be careful, Bobby. Promise."

With a satisfied nod, Bobby clasped his hands together. "Good. Now, gather your gear and hit the road. I'll keep diggin' on my end, see if I can find any lore or references that might give us a clue."

Dean couldn't help but interject with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Bobby, remember that time in Oklahoma when you tried to use a hex bag and ended up with green hair?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he shot a pointed glare at Dean. "Oh, don't you start with that again, boy. You two idjits were laughin' your heads off, like a couple of hyenas."

Sam smirked, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Come on, Bobby, you gotta admit, you rocked that look."

Bobby let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Just make sure you boys pack some extra salt. We're dealin' with somethin' that's givin' hunters the heebie-jeebies."

With a shared glance, the two stood, their resolve strengthened. As they gathered their gear and headed for the door, Bobby's voice carried after them, a stern warning. "And no more hex bags, you hear me?"

The echoes of their laughter lingered in the air as they shut the door. As Sam and Dean made their way toward the sleek black Impala, the gravel crunching under their boots, Sam couldn't help but break the silence.

"You really think this case is the real deal? Witches? Haven't seen any Pagan witches lately."

Dean slid his hands into his jacket pockets, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. "Bobby seems to think so. And you know how he is with research."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, you're right."

Dean's expression turned more serious as he locked eyes with his brother. "Just gotta stay sharp, Sammy. If this thing's as nasty as Bobby says, we need to be on our A-game."

Sam's gaze held a mixture of determination and concern. "I know, Dean. But something just doesn't feel right. If a bunch of hunters won't go near that thing, it can't be a witch. They woulda already tackled it by now."

Dean's jaw tightened, his gaze distant for a moment before he met Sam's eyes again. "Yeah, I noticed that too. It's like everyone's walking on eggshells. We'll keep digging. But first, let's focus on finding out what's behind all these deaths and disappearances."

As they slid into the Impala's front seats, the engine roared to life with a familiar rumble. The brothers shared a determined glance before Dean put the car in gear.

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!! It's motivating me to write sm more for this fandom...oh, the ideas are brewing. Y'ALL SHOULD GO CHECK OUT THIS MASTERPIECE!!!

Hello! I've been binging your fics/imagines lately and I just can't get enough! I don't know if this was ever done before, but--

Could you do a general, platonic (perhaps mildly romantic, like how I see Dean kinda gushing over Y/N idk, your choice!) imagine on how the men (Sam, Dean, Castiel, maybe Crowley [which would be funny]) would react to Y/N being some kind of powerful angel, like that sits at a pretty high rank and has the power to do all sorts of stuff? Healing, destroying, anger being so destructive it could kill a human (but albeit a peaceful being). This angel would probably serve as a guardian to the Winchesters, or a superior to Cass or a complete surprise and maybe unlikely companion for Crowley? I imagine it'd be a scenario where they're saved last second during a massive fight, probably get to know er type deal. This sounds kind of cheesy as I ask someone else to write this but I hope it doesn't sound too weird, I almost wanna go anonymous HAHA. I know this is VERY specific but I don't wanna confuse you! It's something I wanna write out into a fic myself but the way you write would make it super interesting! :)

So sorry if this was too much, I'm very descriptive!

Angel. (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: stop omg. this idea is so cool! also - thank you for the kind words!! i appreciate you so much!! i hope you enjoy this!

warnings: slightly romantic!!

Dean:

Dean met you on a hunt

he was being himself and basically bleeding out, but he was still fighting

you, being in charge of the dink, had to come down and help out

when you appear, a bolt of white light strikes the ground and your voice projects through the atmosphere

“you will not hurt this man.” you say, hair blowing in the wind and eyes glowing

dean was flabbergasted, also a little scared, but also a little bit in love

eventually you just kill the entire vampire nest because they’re stupid and you turn to dean.

“are you okay?”

he’s even more confused because this angel just came down and slaughtered the threats to him and now they’re talking so.. nice.

you heal his wounds and boom. now he’s your friend

he follows you around like a lost puppy and also brags that he’s friends with not one, but two angels, and one is even more powerful and higher up than fucking CASTIEL.

as he gets to know you he knows how sweet you are and it inteigues him even more because - as i said, you’re a powerful angel who can kill anyone but you’re so nice to him, Sam, Bobby and Cas.

the first time he sees you angry he literally gets all red and falls for you

—

Sam:

You first met sam when he was basically bleeding out in a motel room

Dean had gone to get food and sam had been hiding a pretty nasty gash from him

so now he was sitting alone trying to patch himself up (and being unsuccessful)

so, you made your appearance and tried to keep him calm

you appeared and he saw you and went 👁️👄👁️

“it’s okay. i’m an angel. i will not hurt you.” you say softly, stepping towards him

sam is still a little wary but he lets you heal him

you press your fingers to his forehead and he’s all good (albeit a little scared hahah)

he always has the smuggest little smirk on his face when you get angry on his behalf

he likes the feeling of having such a powerful being watching over him all the time but it also makes him nervous because of… his past💀

addicts recover

—

Castiel:

When you came down from heaven to help the Winchesters and Castiel, he was happy to see you

he knew, despite rebelling from heaven, you wouldn’t judge him

he spends a lot of time near you

like, standing right next to you

i like to think that you have better “people skills” than him for whatever reason (it’s just funny) and he just kind of sticks to you ykwim

he thinks you’re so cool

he dosent step in to help you in fights because he knows you can handle it and kill anyone you want

he’s blushing and kicking his feet when he sees you🤭🤭🤭

absolute power couple if you guys got together like omg

but yeah

he always defends you if anyone says shit

he’s just such a cutie pie

—

Crowley:

you popped in when crowley was holding dean and sam hostage

you came into the room, eyes rolling already.

“let them go.” you said, voice sounding bored as you’d done this multiple times already.

crowley looks at you

“oh god, you again.” he scoffs

BUT he dosent even bother to argue and lets them go

which shocks the boys because that’s not like crowley

but he’s smitten for you

it’s giving enemies to lovers

but anyways

you guys have many encounters and end up talking a lot

crowley talks about hell and you talk about heaven

and he finds himself not hating you

and suddenly he wants to be around you more and learn about you and watch you be a badass angel

Hello everyone!! This is just a reminder that my Overwatch, Apex, Skyrim, and Good Omens requests are open!!!

Could I request a Crowley x blind!reader

Both Crowley and the reader wear sunglasses, both for similar and completely different reasons... Where Crowley hides his eyes, so no one sees his snake eyes- the reader hides their eyes so that they don't make people uncomfortable with their cloudy eyes- but the thing is, Crowley doesn't know why they wear sunglasses 24/7

I think you can go anywhere with this like the reader misplaced their sunglasses, perhaps their sunglasses broke, etc.

Crowley with a blind S/O

Crowley has had glasses on the majority of his life on earth. He had to. He had serpent eyes, so if he didn't, the next thing he knew, someone was freaking out at the fact he had those eyes. When it came to you though, he had no idea why you were them all the time. He doesn't think human beings have unique eyes in any way. So maybe he thought you were just really sensitive to light or just thought they were cool.

Even after knowing you for so long, he didn't know. Eventually, the truth would quickly come out.

One day, when you were walking down the hall in his home, he went to enter the hall but didn't see you were going to exit the hall there so you both bumped into each other and your glasses fell off and onto the ground. He picked them up for you and apologized, but then when he stood up straight again, he saw your eyes and how cloudy they looked. He would ask bluntly, "What's up with your eyes?" Witch, you would reply. "You really couldn't guess the whole time I've known you? I'm blind, so I can't see anything, I wear glasses so people don't see them and to protect them from light." Crowley was baffled he didn't realize."I suppose that's somewhat the same reason I were glasses, just to hide my eyes"

After that, he would do things to help you sense you didn't exactly see. He pretty much made any sharp corner not so pointy and help you do as you need. He couldn't believe that after all those previous years of knowing you, he didn't come to that conclusion.

Ineffable connection

Crowley x reader

Summery: Hell doesn't like the connection you made with a particular demon

In the quaint town of Lower Tadfield, an ordinary day took an extraordinary turn when you, a curious and adventurous individual, stumbled upon an eccentric and impeccably dressed man named Crowley. He was standing beside a bookshop, and there was something undeniably magnetic about him that drew you in. As you struck up a conversation, you found yourself captivated by his wit, charm, and enigmatic personality. Little did you know that Crowley was, in fact, a demon who had been living on Earth for centuries, orchestrating mischievous deeds with his angelic friend, Aziraphale. As days turned into weeks, you and Crowley spent more time together, exploring the town and sharing stories of your lives. Despite his somewhat mischievous nature, you couldn't help but feel a deep connection with him, an inexplicable bond that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Unbeknownst to you, Crowley was experiencing a peculiar phenomenon himself. He found himself caring for you in a way he had never cared for any human before. Your presence brought him comfort, and he started questioning his role as a demon, wondering if he could ever truly deserve your affection. As you both grew closer, the line between celestial beings and humans blurred. Crowley found himself yearning to protect you from any harm while you found solace in his company, not fully comprehending the celestial secrets that surrounded him. One evening, as you sat together under the stars, Crowley finally mustered the courage to reveal his true nature to you. Fearful of your reaction, he hesitated, but you surprised him with your open mind and accepting heart. Instead of pulling away, you embraced him, understanding that his true self was more complex than any label could define. From that moment on, your bond with Crowley deepened, and you became his anchor to humanity. He showed you secret places, shared forbidden knowledge, and in return, you showed him the beauty of human emotions and the capacity for love that existed within every soul. However, as time went on, celestial events began to unfold, and the forces of Heaven and Hell grew wary of Crowley's newfound attachment to a human. Both angels and demons viewed your connection as dangerous and sought to separate you two. Facing an imminent threat, you and Crowley had to confront the celestial beings together. You stood by his side, proving that love could defy the barriers of Heaven and Hell, that the connection you shared was as ineffable as it was profound. In a daring act of defiance, Crowley made a choice that surprised even himself – he chose love over his celestial obligations. With the help of Aziraphale, he managed to protect you from the wrath of Heaven and the vengeance of Hell. In the end, your love for each other prevailed, and you found solace in each other's arms. Together, you defied the celestial norms and carved your own path, proving that love, compassion, and understanding could bridge the gap between celestial and mortal realms. And so, your love story with Crowley continued, filled with adventures, laughter, and a love that transcended the boundaries of the universe. As you both navigated through the complexities of your intertwined lives, you knew that your connection was indeed ineffable, a love destined to withstand the test of time.