It’s been confirmed that season 14 will be the last season of SPN. I can only hope that this blog and all of it’s followers - the entire fandom, really - will stick together and continue to be just as it was. So what if it isn’t airing anymore? The fandom will always be there to support each and every one of us and of the cast.
Warning(s): None/slight cursing
Pairing(s): Castiel x reader
Author’s Note: I’m so sorry for not being active guys!! I made another blog or two and a few more accounts on different websites and I’ve really been a Hetalia spur for a bit but I’m trying to write for Castiel too! Submissions would be appreciated if you have any fics you want put on the blog, and I think I’ll start reposting some. Anyways, here’s a short fic about the reader being short.(F/f) = favorite food by the way!
(Y/n) didn't like the height difference between her and Castiel. Sure, being shorter made her feel small in a sense, which she sometimes enjoyed. It was like wearing a shirt a few sizes too big - kind of like when she wore Castiel's shirts on the lazy days they spent together. That was the good kind of small, the kind she liked. But having to lean up so far to kiss Castiel was quite the pain in the ass sometimes.
Reaching for things was also a problem. Castiel was almost six foot, so reaching high shelves was never an issue he'd considered when he put the (f/f) and other goods (Y/n) enjoyed on a higher shelf in the kitchen. He'd never thought about it while doing it really, as he was mostly paying attention to organization of the cupboards rather than height. So of course, this was how she ended up with one leg on the counter, reaching pathetically for the shelf her arm couldn't reach. Only a few more inches - only the extra bit Castiel had on her - and she could've reached the can of ravioli she wanted (it was much too early to make it herself and it tasted fine being store bought).
At one point, she tried to pull over the short stool her boyfriend kept in the kitchen to stand on, but it only added a few inches. Still not enough to knock it down at the very least, and she frowned. Castiel was still asleep, and she didn't want to wake him up, not this early. She knew it must've annoyed him to have to help her get food down during her 4am cravings. It'd be at least another hour before he got up and (Y/n) certainly couldn't wait that long because she was hungry now.
She tried everything she could think of, from putting her leg up on the counter once again to getting the stool and adding a cushion from the living room but nothing seemed to help her reach at all. She just couldn't get it, and (Y/n) knew needed Castiel's help, until she realized that obvious solution she was ignoring - a chair. (Y/n) knew she should've gotten a chair from the beginning, but she also knew she was still tired and she wobbled when she was tired. She just wanted that damned ravioli, nothing more, so why couldn't life be more simple?
Dragging a chair over to the counter, she put a foot on it, holding onto the bottom shelf in the cupboard for support. It wasn't exactly her brightest idea ever, since the bottom shelf had always been one they could never rely on to put heavier cans on - it was weak and not very supportive. Which was mostly the reason (Y/n) ended up almost falling, managing to catch himself before she got hurt but not before she almost brought down the shelf with her and cursed loudly, sighing in frustration.
Castiel had always been a light sleeper, out of habit really. So when he heard (Y/n)'s yell of angry swears and felt the cold spot next to him in bed, he shot up, thinking something was wrong. Yet he almost laughed when he got to the kitchen to see (Y/n) sitting on the floor pouting in his pajamas, the cupboard open and a chair underneath it.
"Need some help there?" He asked, sleep still lingering in his voice.
(Y/n) looked up, a small smile sneaking it's onto it's face. "I might need a little, Cas," she admitted quietly.
Summary: “You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years! Of course I’m angry!”
Author’s Note: I know I have not been writing like I should be, and I wanted to try this prompt because let’s be honest - that sounds like Supernatural. I tried to make this one light hearted for you guys!
It’d been three years since you’d seen your angel in his tan trench coat, and at this point, you’d given up hope. Mostly.
Something inside told you, day in and day out, that’d he’d come back. Part of you would’ve loved that. It would have been overjoyed and happy as hell. Yet another part of you wouldn’t have favored that. You were still a little mad over it, as he had left without warning. Even though he did that a lot, and sometimes for a while, 3 years was just…unacceptable to you.
There were never answers to your prayers, no surprise appearances, nothing out of the ordinary except for the absence of Castiel. Your Cas, gone and without a trace for three years!
Around a few months into the second year, you were on the edge of you metaphorical seat, waiting for him to pop up somewhere inconvenient. The bathroom, while you were changing, during the middle of hunt.
Just some kind of sign would have sufficed for you, quite honestly.
Now it’d been three years, four months, and seventeen days. If you couldn’t tell, the part of you that still hoped for his return was much stronger than the part who didn’t want it. You deeply missed the way he used to tilt his head at the slightest thing, confused. The way you always had to fix his tie because somehow, it was always messed up. Most of all, the way he hugged you, oddly enough. Like he didn’t want to let go of you.
Well, on that eighteenth dreadful day, you’d had a hard hunt and it hadn’t turned out too well. You weren’t too down - it wasn’t your first mess up, it certainly wouldn’t be your last one, and it was partly Sam’s fault. After trying to sleep for a few hours and deeming it useless, turning over and tossing every possible way (a nightly routine), you finally got up.
As you turned on your laptop, deciding to look for hunts around the place, you knew you saw something out of the corner of your eye. The shape of a…
Was that the shape of a man?
No, it definitely couldn’t be. Castiel was probably dead by now. It wasn’t him if it was a man. So on that reasoning, you grabbed the knife beside your bed and slowly shut your laptop, looking around so your eyes would adjust to the dark once more.
Once they had adjusted, you glanced around the room once more. The silhouette hadn’t moved yet, so taking a deep breathe, you moved an inch or so from your position on the bed. It stayed still, as if watching you.
In a brief moment of hope, you let out a weak, “C-Cas?”
A few brief moments passed before it moved and your breathe caught in your throat. Moving into the thin line of light emanating still from your shut laptop, you saw the color of his dress pants.
“Is it really you Castiel?” You asked quietly, almost certain that one, you were hallucinating, or two, it was some type of monster impersonating your dearest angel.
“It’s me,” you knew right away that it was really him. No one could impersonate that deep voice, and if it weren’t truly his it never would’ve given you the need to hear more of it that it always did.
Getting up, you felt happy and angry at the same time. When he started to explain, you stopped him. “Wait no, I’m mad at you.”
That shut him right up, making him tilt his head in that adorable way of his. “What?”
“You ate all my cereal and then you disappeared for three years, Cas,” you said firmly. “I’m mad at you.”
“(Y/n), it was Dean who ate the last of your cereal-”
“Dean? He told me it was you!”
I haven't written in awhile, or posted at all, I'm sorry about that. So I thought I'd just repost a fic you guys seemed to like until I can get something new done. - J
Over 700 followers and more every day! We cannot believe the amount of support and love we’re getting from you guys!
When I started this blog, I wanted to share my writing with a larger audience and improve, as well as make friends with people along the way. And I am so happy that there are so many of you along with me for the ride!
Enough sap now! I want to make more content for you guys, so please do send in requests and prompts for us! I’m thinking of starting requests for other things rather than fanfics, like aesthetics, ship stuff, art, and things like that! I’m not sure how the other admins would feel about it, but I think I'd like to start some of that stuff myself to add some more to our blog. ~ J
So as usual, I’ve run out of ideas and good prompts. So if you guys could send in some requests for us, that’d be amazing. I’m sorry for the long absence as well.
Summary: “You ate all my cereal and faked your death for three years! Of course I’m angry!”
Author’s Note: I know I have not been writing like I should be, and I wanted to try this prompt because let's be honest - that sounds like Supernatural. I tried to make this one light hearted for you guys!
It'd been three years since you'd seen your angel in his tan trench coat, and at this point, you'd given up hope. Mostly.
Something inside told you, day in and day out, that'd he'd come back. Part of you would've loved that. It would have been overjoyed and happy as hell. Yet another part of you wouldn't have favored that. You were still a little mad over it, as he had left without warning. Even though he did that a lot, and sometimes for a while, 3 years was just...unacceptable to you.
There were never answers to your prayers, no surprise appearances, nothing out of the ordinary except for the absence of Castiel. Your Cas, gone and without a trace for three years!
Around a few months into the second year, you were on the edge of you metaphorical seat, waiting for him to pop up somewhere inconvenient. The bathroom, while you were changing, during the middle of hunt.
Just some kind of sign would have sufficed for you, quite honestly.
Now it'd been three years, four months, and seventeen days. If you couldn't tell, the part of you that still hoped for his return was much stronger than the part who didn't want it. You deeply missed the way he used to tilt his head at the slightest thing, confused. The way you always had to fix his tie because somehow, it was always messed up. Most of all, the way he hugged you, oddly enough. Like he didn't want to let go of you.
Well, on that eighteenth dreadful day, you'd had a hard hunt and it hadn't turned out too well. You weren't too down - it wasn't your first mess up, it certainly wouldn't be your last one, and it was partly Sam's fault. After trying to sleep for a few hours and deeming it useless, turning over and tossing every possible way (a nightly routine), you finally got up.
As you turned on your laptop, deciding to look for hunts around the place, you knew you saw something out of the corner of your eye. The shape of a...
Was that the shape of a man?
No, it definitely couldn't be. Castiel was probably dead by now. It wasn't him if it was a man. So on that reasoning, you grabbed the knife beside your bed and slowly shut your laptop, looking around so your eyes would adjust to the dark once more.
Once they had adjusted, you glanced around the room once more. The silhouette hadn't moved yet, so taking a deep breathe, you moved an inch or so from your position on the bed. It stayed still, as if watching you.
In a brief moment of hope, you let out a weak, "C-Cas?"
A few brief moments passed before it moved and your breathe caught in your throat. Moving into the thin line of light emanating still from your shut laptop, you saw the color of his dress pants.
"Is it really you Castiel?" You asked quietly, almost certain that one, you were hallucinating, or two, it was some type of monster impersonating your dearest angel.
"It's me," you knew right away that it was really him. No one could impersonate that deep voice, and if it weren't truly his it never would've given you the need to hear more of it that it always did.
Getting up, you felt happy and angry at the same time. When he started to explain, you stopped him. "Wait no, I'm mad at you."
That shut him right up, making him tilt his head in that adorable way of his. "What?"
"You ate all my cereal and then you disappeared for three years, Cas," you said firmly. "I'm mad at you."
"(Y/n), it was Dean who ate the last of your cereal-"
"Dean? He told me it was you!"
You’re stuck at work on Valtentine’s Day watching couples canoodling and listening to everyone brag about how much ass you’re /not/ going to get. What could possibly worse than that?
OR
The one where you have to watch Dean give Castiel cringe-inducing lessons on how to pick up.
Words: 1637, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Supernatural
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings:
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester
Relationships: Castiel/Reader
Additional Tags: gender-neutral original character, Valentine's Day, Unattached Drifter Christmas, could be considered dean-bashing but i really didn't mean for it to be that way, cas and flowers, clueless cas sorta flirting, i dont even know what to tag this, i wanted to try something new
read it on AO3.
It was a long day, one you were supposed to have off no less, but your boss had called at the last possible second for you to come in. Something about your co-worker being sick.
Yeah right. Sick my ass.
Of course, everyone knew better. He was probably out chasing skirts. Even then, your boss just couldn’t have said no. He simply couldn’t have respected the fact that you’d just worked eight days in a row and this would make nine. He couldn’t get his head out of his ass to see how badly he was being played.
So here you were, working on Valentine’s Day, on a Tuesday no less. Meaning that the only people who would come into a convenience store in the middle of nowhere, in a nowhere town were a) people on their way home from work, which were few because people had been advised to stay home due to the weather, b) people who were lost and couldn’t see the street signs through the blizzard, which were also few because not many people came through here anyway, and c) douche-canoes who needed to buy flowers and chocolates and condoms just in case.
God, I hate Valentine’s Day, you thought to yourself.
Cue King Douche and his douchlings walking in, one wearing plaid and one looking kind of sad. Perhaps douchling number two hadn’t managed to get laid yet.
“But, Dean,” you heard the sad-looking one say.
“No, no, no, no… Cas, I told you. These things always work. If you put ‘em all together, even you should be able to pick up,” the guy first guy replied.
The freakishly tall one wearing plaid just looked on in what appeared to be disapproval. Well… Perhaps Dean was the only one here trying to get laid - or get his friend laid.
“Dean, I really don’t-”
“Nonsense,” Dean grinned and put a hand on “Cas’s” shoulder. “It’s easy. You get flowers or chocolate. You find someone pretty. You say something nice, maybe add a proposition or two. Buy them some drinks and offer to take them home. It’s a piece o’ pie, Cas.
You shook your head in exasperation. Guys like this, they were the reason you had such a hard time putting yourself out there to find a date in the first place. This guy was completely outrageous. Clearly his friend wasn’t interested, or way too shy to ever actually go through with any of what Dean was feeding him. Despite that, this Cas guy kept going along with it, although reluctantly.
Cas’s eyes looked like they would bug out of his head when they checked out the chocolate display. There are too many different ones to choose from, he had muttered, and immediately moved on to look at the flowers, which Dean had agreed to, as they were "more Cas.”
By the end of it, they’d spent more than 30 minutes looking at flowers, only for him to shake his head and claim that the flowers were precariously matched and unhealthy. Dean rolled his eyes and threw his arms up. For a guy at least in his late 20s, he certainly didn’t seem to act it, though he did give in to Cas eventually. They disappeared from your sight for a few minutes, heading deeper into the store. You had half a mind to follow them to make sure they didn’t ruin the display anywhere else, but despite being somewhat obnoxious, they hadn’t made a mess in the chocolate or the flowers so you let your mind rest.
They were back soon enough and ready to pay, Dean with a large box of condoms, and the other two with bashful looks on their faces. Dean grinned at you and winked as you scanned his purchase, yourself with a skeptical look and a raised brow. He was hardly worth paying attention to. He’d probably have someone else on his arm by the time you finished work anyway. Cas, though…
You glanced past the tall one to Cas, partially hiding behind him. Well, not hiding but…
Damn, that is just…
His eyes were so blue. That kind of blue people usually would believe was edited in pictures, but his eyes were clearly actually that colour. Despite seeing them in person, even you found it hard to believe. His eyes widened when he noticed you staring and took the chance to escape when Dean began to walk away. This wasn’t love at first sight, but it was probably as close to it as you believed it could be. And now this beautiful man was just going to walk out the door and you’d be stuck there until midnight with nothing to do but watch more of the same.
xxx
With a heavy sigh, you heaved your bag higher up into your shoulder, and pulled your keys out of your pocket ready to lock the door. You listened for the heavy sound of the tumbler before giving the door a tug to make sure it was, in fact, locked. Then, as you turned around, you noticed you weren’t alone.
God no, not another one to argue with… You had a bus to catch, the last one of the day, and the only way for you to get home. Needless to say, arguing with a customer about closing hours that you had no control over was not something you wanted or had the time to do. Deciding to ignore the whoever-it-was completely, you simply shrugged and prepared to make your way down to the bus stop, only to be interrupted by a low e-excuse me.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry, sir,” you begin as you turn to face them, “We’re clo…” The words fell from your lips. There he was. Cas. With a small pot of flowers - healthy flowers this time, you noted - and a shy smile on his face. “How can I help you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, you look like you were in a hurry, but…” Cas trailed off. He seemed so lost standing there alone in the dark with nothing but a handful of flowers for company. His breath coming out of his in small clouds of dense air from the cold. “My name is Castiel.” He said his name like he was used to it being forgotten or mispronounced - like he wanted you to remember it.“ I think you may have heard what my friend was talking about earlier. I would like to reassure you that my intent is not so crass, but I was wondering if, perhaps, you’d like to go get a coffee… With me?“
Your eyes widen at that one. Coffee? Me? Since when do people invite me out to coffee?
"Um…” Unsure of how to respond, you simply waited. Perhaps he would speak up again and explain further.
He did.
“These are for you,” he said as he stepped forward, “I picked them personally. They don’t like being grown indoors. They don’t get enough sunlight and it dims their colour and prevents them from developing their proper scents. They are also properly transplanted and should last much longer like this, given the proper care.”
“I, uh… I didn’t know that,” you tell him honestly, unsure of exactly where he’s going with that.
“So, I picked these from outside, because,” he paused as if trying to remember something, “I was trying to find flowers as pretty as you.”
Ah… That ass probably fed him those lines, you snorted. It seemed so out of place for him to be saying those words. The smile that was slowly growing on your face fell once again, only to be replaced with a light grimace, the effect of which was seen immediately.
Castiel’s own tentative smile fell and he did that thing you do when you sort of bend at the knees and half turn away, leaning back like you want to shout at the top of your lungs at whoever’s living in the clouds. Is there a term for that? A grim look crossed his features as he mumbled to himself. Something about humans and complicated and never listening to him again.
You huffed in laughter, hiding your mouth behind your hand. It was funny but that didn’t mean laughing to his face about it. He’d probably change his mind about going out for coffee pretty quickly if that was the case. And so, taking some pity on the poor guy, and realizing how close you were to not going on that coffee date, you spoke up, “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
He looked back at you in surprise, and after some hesitation seemed to come back out of his shell, “So, about getting coffee… If you’re interested…”
“I’d love to,” you tell him, and finally approach him to shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Where to?”
“There’s a nice place on main,” he pointed over his shoulder, “It’s open all night.”
“I think I know the place,” you nodded. “You driving?”
“Yes. This is my car,” he vaguely gestured to the car parked next to him in that Will-Smith-move that had gotten popular on the internet recently.
Trying to hide a smirk, you answered, “Alright then. Let’s go get that coffee.”
He held the door open for you and handed you the flowers, making sure you were seated properly before closing the door behind you and making his way to the driver’s seat to start the car. He drove in silence, with some music playing, but too low for you to hear properly.
When he parked in front of the cafe, he exited the vehicle with a quiet "please wait a moment," before coming around to open the door for you and once again take the plant from you so you could get out of the car safely.
Summary: "Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can." Here lies the story of a girl who throws too many colors, and a boy who seems to use the same color his whole life. When the two meet in a very unlikely situation, will they change or will they walk off unaffected? (I got this prompt off of fanfiction.net!)
Author’s Note: I really liked the prompt and thought it’d be pretty cool to write! Also, my legs are very sore for no reason so I’m going to try to distract myself from it by writing some more fanfictions! Also, should I make a part two?
Having your art shown in a museum was a big deal. Perhaps to (y/n), a very creative young woman and artist, it was the biggest deal.
She’d dreamed of this moment ever since her father taught her to paint. At first it was jus watching in silent awe until he asked her, “Would you pick up that brush and go over that spot for me?” and from there on, progressed until he let her paint something alone.
That wasn’t her only art, either, no it didn’t stop there. She could sing as well.
Castiel was just another man, spending his days without the color it took to truly to be happy in life. He lived his own black and white life and had his own black white shopping to do. The blue of his house’s exterior was the brightest shade he ever saw in his own life.
So when he saw that this pretty artist was going to be in a museum to show her work? He decided that maybe it was time for a splash of color in his dull days.
Monday, at 12:00pm. The second level. Showroom. He repeated these things to himself in hopes he’d remember. Colorful things are sometimes hard to remember in a dull life.
The morning before was quite possibly the hardest Sunday for both. Castiel went to church every Sunday, a firm believer in God. Though he usually listened, this time his mind wondered, back to the gallery, to her, to the art. What would it be like? He’d never visited a place like that before. What would she be like? Was it even the woman he’d seen or was that just a model? She had the looks to be one.
(Y/n) didn’t go to church (if you are Christian and go to church, let’s say it’s just that weekend!). She was at the museum during the time that any service would be held that early, and long after. Helping set things up, practicing things, speeches. It was hard work. Would anyone show up? Would they like her work? Or would she be just another artist who didn’t make it because no one had their particular taste?
The rest of the day was filled with anticipation - for Castiel, mostly of her; for (y/n), mostly of he response.
Castiel had set his alarm for 10:00am, wanting to be ready to leave. He didn’t now why this event suddenly made him want to go somewhere on his day off of work. Usually he’d be sleeping in, and if it was on Wednesday he’d be going to church in the evening. He had a system for the things he did and this minor disruption somehow seemed wonderful to him.
She’d been at the gallery for hours by the time the event started, focusing hard on making things perfect. No painting was smudged, everything looked good, the pieces were in order. All set, and only minutes before noon did she focus on herself completely. Outfit, hair, face, it all looked okay. Good enough to please a crowd if nothing else.
As people started filling the room, (y/n) got more and more nervous. Was the talk of how good her work was or how hard on the eyes it seemed to be? Were they complimenting it or insulting it? Did everyone hate the pieces and her too? Of course, hating a piece was like hating the artist.
Following he flow of the crowd, Castiel tried to watch other people to learn what to do. He was unsure of himself and definitely did not want to be embarrassed. He wondered if they cold meet the artist, and he almost smiled when he saw her.
(Y/n) was by a particularly large canvas, talking to a small group of people. She was smiling with every word and he knew that this was the woman he’d seen. She could’ve been a model for sure with her beauty.
Joining the back of the crowd, he could hear her voice, clear and loud. A perfect speaking voice, almost like she’d done this before.
“And this piece, it’s very special to me,” (y/n) was saying. “It was the first thing my father had ever taught me as a girl - how to mix colors and make them go together. He never taught me a color scheme, though I learned it later on my own, but instead told me that whichever colors I that matched the best are my own color schemes. In his words, ‘Screw being practical. Do anything you want and everything you can.’“
Listening to it, Castiel got the impression her dad was someone who was a big part of her life, and when she talked about it, her voice seemed to get louder. Bigger. Filling the space around them, like a bubble against the many, many voices of other people in the museum. She was the main focus.
He was entranced, to put it in simple terms. Her art had meaning and he learned every one them, knowing that this sort of color was what he wanted in his life. He wanted the deeper meaning of a simply posed portrait, the hidden meaning of a few strokes in the right place.
Castiel wanted (y/n)’s colors in his life. And he knew it.
You are a hunter originally from Australia, and when your sibling sends you some foods from home,the recently dubbed human Castiel gets confused and decides that trying new things would be a good way to start off the morning with you both. This is one of my first goes, and I wanted to do something quick and silly. Thanks!
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No warnings, just fluff!
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“(Y/n?) What is this mysterious black substance that has been smeared on your toast this morning?”
Glancing up, you noticed the former angels eyes locked on your toast on the table. You smile, closing the book in your hands and placing it down before pulling your chair inwards towards the table.
A couple of days ago, your sibling had sent you some foods from your home country, Australia, as you were craving food from tour home country. It had been roughly 5 years since you had come to America to help your dads old friend, Bobby Singer, with a couple of cases. He had welcomed you with open arms, and you had decided to settle down in America as there was a lot more action here then there ever had been at home.
It wasnt long after that you had met the Winchesters. It had been on a vampire hunt in Cheyenne, you had run into them both impersonating FBI agents at the local police station while looking into some deaths, and had hit it off quickly. From the hunt they saw how much of a talented hunter you were and they were impressed. And after you had swooned over the Impala, they welcomed you with open arms into their small hunting family.
It hadn't been long after you had first gotten to the bunker that you had found the new fledged human Castiel moseying around the library. Castiel and you had hit if off straight away, as you shared a mutual love for honey and bees, and you were soon helping him do research for the cases you stumbled along.
That had been 3 years ago now, and you now shared a brotherly relationship with both Dean and Sam, while your and Castiel’s relationship had become somewhat romantic,a s you had been dating for a couple of months after a witch hunt. You had both gotten a truth spell placed on you, and you were now somewhat grateful for the witches choice of spell.
Today was like any other morning though, you and Cas would wordlessly congregate together in the library and have breakfast together. Yet, the only thing that had changed was what you were having for breakfast this morning. You watched as Castiel stared at your toast with such intensity you had to bite you bottom lip to stop yourself from laughing.
“Its called Vegemite Cas, Its a Australian spread. I love it and haven't been able to get my hands on any recently, and my brother/sister was kind enough to send my a tub along with a couple of other foods that you can't really get here in America” You explained, lifting up the toast and taking a bite.
He continued to watch you in interest, tilting his head to the side slightly like he always did, it always made him look like a cute puppy.The look always made your stomach go fuzzy, so you caught onto his train of thought before he even had to ask.
“Wanna try some?” You asked, holding out the slice for him to take.
A couple of seconds passed before he nodded, taking the slice and hesitantly raising it up to his lips. You watched as he slowly took a nibble on the toast, trying to read his reaction as you leaned back in your chair once again. He gave no reaction as he placed the food back down, eyes floating back up to you again.
“So?” You prompted.
“It tastes…. Salty?” he said uncertainly.
You let out a laugh, not being able to hold it back anymore. Castiel gave you a confused look, and you just shook your head as you went back to eating your breakfast, telling him everyone had their own tastes. With another nod, Cas pulled up his usual chair beside you and silently watched you read while stealing glances at your toast every now and again.
~ the next morning ~
You had gotten up a little later than you had wanted this morning, you had stayed up too late reading again, and as you shuffled into the kitchen you had noticed a plate already out on the bench. Perched on top was two slices of toast, lathered to the brim with Vegemite thicker than one would care to have it.
Who had done that for you?
“Um… Morning?” You mumbled, but there was no response as expected.
Raising an eyebrow, you looked around and noticed that Sam and Dean were nowhere in sight. Sam was probably in the gym like always, and it wouldn't surprise you if Dean was doing something under the hood of his beloved car. It was nice to have quiet mornings like this, it gave you time to relax and unwind, probably talk to Castiel about random things if you could find out where he was.
As you were looking around the kitchen though, you did notice the absence of your beloved yellow jar of black spread. Did one of the boys hide it as a joke?
You shrugged it off, too tired to try and find it right now, and shuffled off with your toast towards the library to start some early morning reading. Pushing the doors open with your shoulder, you were shocked by what you found sitting in one of the arm chairs.
Castiel was sat, curled up, with a now empty jar of Vegemite in his lap licking his fingers. The substance was smeared slightly around his lips, coating some of his fingers and his eyes in a dazed state as he seemed to be focused on draining the glass jar completely of its sticky substance. It was a hilarious sight, and before you could help it you were snickering, and this caught the x-angles attention.
“(Y-Y/N!)” the brunette squeaked out as he quickly wiped his fingers on his shirt. He had the guiltiest look on his face, he looked like someone had just kicked his puppy.
“I do apologise, I didn't mean to get so carried away… but this substance you call Vegemite is so addicting…” Castiel explained feebly, and you couldn't help but giggle slightly as you moved forward and kissed the man's fore head out of pure adoration.
You had always had a weakness for Cas, you could never stay angry at the man for more than a few seconds! Sure, he had drained the tub of Vegemite, but seeing that he had seemingly enjoyed it so much had brought a bigger joy then eating it all by yourself.
“Don't stress it Cas! I'm happy you like it! Though, i'm going to have to send for some more, and limit your intake” You joke, pulling up a seat beside his and placing your breakfast onto the table in front of you.
“Want to share my breakfast then?” You questioned. And with another shy nod, the two of you dug into your toast together, munching quietly while you started to read another one of your new books you had found in the library.
Hey ^^ I know this is a weird ask, but could I ask for a Castiel x reader insert where the girl/boy is suffering a eating disorder and cas finds out before anyone else? He goes to Dean and questions what's wrong ect.... sorry to bother thank you 🤣🙈
I think that’s a pretty nice idea, and I honestly like working with ideas like this since they’re more...realistic, y’know? I think I’ll use a human, modern AU for this one. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!
Possible trigger warning for eating disorder! Other than that, it should be okay.
You and Castiel had an honest relationship. You told each other the truth and didn’t hide things from one another. He never let you forget the fact that he loved you and vice versa. In some respects, it could’ve been a perfect relationship, except for one thing.
You struggled with anorexia, and you didn't have the heart to tell him because you thought it’d ruin things. That it’d make him not love you anymore because you weren’t perfect, like he thought you were.
Sometimes Castiel noticed you weren’t as much as you usually did, but he never questioned it because appetites change, didn’t they? Maybe you just weren’t hungry.
It didn’t really start to concern him until he noticed your weight. It wasn’t much of a difference before, maybe only a few pounds. But after that, it started to show how skinny you were getting. Not wanting to upset, he went to the person who knew you almost as well as he did; Dean.
While he was waiting for you to come over to his house, Castiel called Dean. After their usual greetings (an awkward hello, maybe a few questions about something completely off topic) he went straight to the point.
“Do you ever notice something...off with (y/n)?” Castiel asked him, somewhat afraid it was only him.
“Well, maybe a little,” Dean admitted. “Why? Something happen?”
“I don’t think she’s been eating enough,” he said worriedly. “The weight loss is noticeable. And she’s always trying to work out somehow.”
“You think she’s alright? I mean, I thought she was getting thinner, but you know women - don’t mention their weight to them or they’ll be mad, huh?”
“Dean, this isn’t the time for that. Do you think something could be seriously wrong?”
“You mean like...a disorder or something?” Dean asked. “Maybe you should just ask her what’s up.”
“Okay,” Castiel sighed. “I’ll talk to her about it.”
After hanging up, Cas threw his phone down on the bed, sighing. When you finally got there, he smiled softly at you when he opened the door.
“Hey, (n/n),” He greeted, stepping aside to let you in. You kissed his cheek, noticing the worried look on his face despite the smile.
“Is everything alright?” You asked him as he closed the door.
After a moment’s hesitation he shook his head. “Have you been eating enough lately?” He asked.
You nodded. “I guess so. Why?”
“You’ve...I don’t want to sound rude, but you’ve lost weight a lot recently. And you’re pushing yourself to work out. You seem so stressed,” he admitted. You frowned a little, raising an eyebrow.
“Is it really that noticeable?”
It was Castiel’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Of course it’s noticeable. You shouldn’t be treating yourself like that, (y/n). It’s not healthy and it’s not good for you,” it felt impossible to hold back in fear of hurting you, and he kept going. “You have to eat, (y/n). It’s important. And working out so much is going to hurt you eventually. I just love you and I don’t want you to be hurt!”
Your mouth opened a little to say something, but you shut it quickly, realizing you didn’t know how to respond. Instead, you hugged him tightly, burying your face in his shoulder. “I love you too, Cas.”
“So will you try to stop doing this? For me?” He asked, not feeling like he was overreacting one bit. He was concerned and worried - he had a right to overreact. Especially about you. You meant the world to him.
It took a moment, but slowly you nodded. “Okay...” you mumbled quietly. You didn’t know how to respond. “I love you.”
READER: Gender-neutral/no-mention
Rating: G-T
WARNINGS: mentions of self-harm, allusions to abuse
Words: 2,208
Summary: When you checked-in to the psych ward, you never expected to meet someone more lost, more out of place, than you.
Read on AO3 and ff.net here.
He looked so unbelievably sad, then again, so did most people who ended up here, but him especially so. He looked like he was in his 30s or 40s, and yet somehow managed to look like a kid lost without his parenst. A gentle soul, you thought him to be, and you were right, though you were also very far from the mark.
You had no dea why he'd been admitted, but according to the rumours - nto a sure source of information, but the only one available to patients - he'd checked himself in. Your parents had done so for you, at your insistence, but you simply couldn't bring yourself to sign the papers alone.
The reason for your séjour - your getaway - was much more obvious. It was written on your arms, in fact. Literally. The visible scars made you the subject of many hushed conversations by both patients and staff. The pity from others your age was manageable enough, but the looks from the older folks... That was something else. Their looks ranged from: "Who does she think she is? Taking the easy way out! Pah!" to "Devil worship! Satan's spawn! Kill it! End it!"
It. To think your life meant so little to them, and yet at times, to you, it had meant even less. So little, in fact, that your arm had once resembled a barbeque grill from the number of defined scars that had crossed it. Now? It looked more like a topographical map - of where you'd been and where you were going. It was the braille story of your life - the one you would read over and over again, sitting alone in the corner of the room where you knew no one would disturb you. That is, until that man checked in.
He'd looked so utterly lost that first day. And the poor guy had Gina showing him around the compound. That had to be a nightmare. Even old granny May, who'd reportedly been here for over 20 years, still hated her and purposely let food dribble onto her when it was time to eat - purely out of spite.
And so on that fateful day, Gina had barged into the R&R center - which she affectionately referred to as "the playground" - and introduced the newcomer.
"This is Cass-tee-elle," she pronounced slowly, like speaking to a developing infant. "He's your new playmate. Have fun everyone," and she was off again.
Castiel, as she named him, gazed around the room quietly before approaching the bookshelf along the wall farthest from you. The books on that shelf dated back years and years. Most were older than granny May herself. Despite that, you noticed a lovely smile as he read over the titles. THen, almost as if catching himself in the wrong, the smile fell from his face and he moved on. Next he stood in front of the smaller shelf where all the boardgames were kept.
You watched silently, fingers grazing over the map on your arm as you did so. Castiel tilted his head in curiosity at all the games, as you chuckled. The move reminded you of a puppy video you'd seen a few days earlier during your daily allowance of one hour of internet.
His eyes scanned the various boxes piled precariously on the shelf. The weren't properly stacked, but they didn't all fit in any other way. His gaze turned critical as he seemed to find something of interest, near the bottom.
Oh goodness... On his first day, too...
You feared what might happen to him if he pulled it out too quickly and made a mess. The orderlies didn't like when the patients made a mess. With bated breath, you looked on as he analyzed the stockpile-Jenga. You watched as the orderlies watched him, anticipating the mess he would make, but it never came. With a gentle tug-and-push, the box came free with little struggle and without compromising the integrity of the pile.
Castiel took the box to an empty table and began removing its contents, placing them gingerly before himself. He spent a long time reading the instructions before looking incredibly crestfallen. It required more than one player, of course it did. He seemed unfamiliar with the game, which meant the name was what would have drawn him to it.
You huffed in sarcastic humour. Apologizing for things outside of your control was nothing new to you. Yet with the look on his face, it was simply impossible for you to stay away any longer. Sorry or not, no one deserved to look like that over not being able to play a simple boardgame.
He really looks like a kicked puppy, you thought as you finally stood from your quiet corner and headed to the man's table, acknowledging the orderlies' comments of, "it lives," and "from the darkness, it will rise," with nothing more than a finger aimed at them from over your shoulder.
"Hello," you finally came to greet the man known as Castiel. "Looks like you're missing a partner for this. Mind if I join?"
Castiel simply looked at you for a long moment. Why? You couldn't even begin to imagine, but the staring allowed you to get a better look at him and, damn! His eyes were beautiful! You allowed yourself to stare back. They were blue, but a whole other kind of blue. You were lost in those endless pools when his voice came back to you.
"I've never played this before," he admitted. "If it's not too much trouble, would you show me?"
You nodded and took a seat across from him, pulling the box near to set up the board, before explaining the rules as you remembered them. He nodded intermittently, absorbing the information like it might one day save his life. You didn't know what life he lived outside of the compound, but you doubted that formal and complete knowledge of the rules of Sorry!-trademark-of-hasbro-make-your-game-night-a-family-game-night would ever be required to save his or someone else's life.
After a trial run to iron out any details you might have forgotten, with a smile on his face again, Castiel eagerly suggested playing a full game. The smile made his eyes light up, of course you'd play another game with him. You'd play until your fingers bled if it would keep the smile there for a moment longer.
You wouldn't have time for that today.
Despite having agreed, just as you'd begun a second game, the orderlies came over. "Time's up kiddo. It's time for your appointment."
You heaved a deep sigh, and nodded your head. "Sorry Castiel, guess it'll have to be for another time."
"Of course," he shook his head, "These things happen. It is nothing to be sorry about."
You laughed at the unintended puns, "See you later."
He nodded solemnly, beginning to put the pieces back in the box to return it to its place on the shelf.
I'm new around here so I figured introducing myself wouldn't be a bad place to start.
You can call me Andii or any variation thereof. Female. Over 21 years of age. Not-Straight™. Lover of all things Castiel and Misha. I work a lot but I'm always looking for a distraction (*hint* send me prompts anytime).
I'm not currently in school but aiming to be in university by this fall. I'm going into Art Education and I have a month and a half left to submit my portfolio. So while working and writing, I also need to be drawing until my fingers bleed.
My work has a tendency of falling into a bottomless pit of despair when I write alone, but I enjoy a challenge, so feel free to send me all sorts of prompts. I can do smut, fluff, death, torture, and other triggers (all of which will be properly tagged).
I'm very sorry for being so inactive and if you care to know, I can explain why later, but this is amazing you guys!
I'm so happy to cme back to the blog to find over 500 followers! I can't believe we've gotten this far together, and I love you guys a lot. I also got an admin request, and some changes will be coming to the blog soon! Good changes, too!
I am so happy right now, and I wasn't having the best day either, but knowing this many people follow us and read our fanfictions and just generally liked our blog well enough to follow it was enough to cheer me up and we love you guys a lot!
My name is Lea can you write me the fluffiest Christmas castielxreader fic you can if you can't get to my drabble plz just message me
Sure thing, Lea! And I love your name, oml, it's so cute. Castiel wasn't used to many Christmas traditions. For example, he didn't know that you had to kiss if you were standing under the mistletoe. You'd been dating Castiel for what seemed like forever - it was really two months, but go figure, you loved the dorky angel. He was cute and handsome and basically everything you wanted. Cas loved you too, and he was there for you and the boys. Dean, on the other hand, loved to tease you both about it. He'd drop hints or sexual jokes to Castiel, none of which he understood, and he'd do the same to you, except of course, you understood them. And blushed like mad over it, always punching his arm and whining. Dean was like the annoying older brother you never had. It was the 14th of December, only 11 days until Christmas, and there you were in another crappy, beaten up motel room on your way to a hunt. Hunters don't get holiday break. You'd convinced Castiel to cuddle with you in one of the beds, and was laying on his chest, almost falling asleep when Dean walked by and stopped beside you. "You guys are too cute together," Dean teased, laughing when you blushed and slapped his hip. "Shut up, Dean," you whined, burying your face into Castiel's chest. Castiel kept quiet until he asked, "Dean, what are you holding over us?" You looked up, and sighed, slapping Dean's hip again. "You're a moron," you said, rolling your eyes at the hunter. Sure enough, Dean was holding mistletoe over you two, chuckling at your response. You and Castiel hadn't had your first kiss yet, and it was something he loved to joke about and tease you for. So this was his way to finally make it happen, after weeks of telling you to. "He probably wants to kiss you, but he's too awkward," Dean would say. "I'm a guy, I know these things Lea." "You gotta kiss Lea here, feathers," Dean said, an amused look on his face. "It's tradition." Castiel gave you a confused look before you explained that if two people were under the mistletoe, they had to kiss. You received a small nod before he took your face in his hands and kissed you softly. Your face went aflame, and got even redder when you heard Dean comment, but you couldn't really hear him. You were caught up in the kiss and kissed Cas back, pulling away after a few seconds. Burying your head into the crook of his neck, Dean walked away in silent victory.I think it's safe to say that Dean ships it lmao ~ J
I’m feeling better now, although I still might not be on as often as I was before I got sick too, and I want to write personalized Castiel x readers for you guys since you’ve been such nice people and supportive followers to me and Jen! I don’t know if Jen is on bard or not, but I hope so since I think it’ll be fun to do! ~ J
Just send us an ask (if you could go off of anon it’d be lovely because we really want to know you guys!) with your request, name (or whatever name you want to be used in the fic), nickname if you want, and maybe a little bit about your personality. If you want to stay on anon, that’s fine, but sometimes we want to send fics privately (like for smut if we write it, we’ll probably send it privately.)
We’ll take any type of request initially allowed on the blog. I hope you guys enjoy this, and think of it as your little Christmas present from us!
Ah I hope you feel better soon!! When you're better, how about one where Dean has had feelings for the reader for a while and one day he goes to take a shower but she's already in there and she's singing like The Rolling Stones or ACDC or something and Dean just gets really frustrated and goes to talk to Sam about her and what to do about it and she happens to be walking round the corner after just finishing in the shower, hearing what he said and fluff ensues? Thanks if you do! Xx
The blog is specifically for Castiel x readers, butttttt I might do it on here for you or I could answer it privately if you send in an ask off of anon with the fic. ~ J