Supernatural Oneshots/Imagines

<more then friends> (castiel x reader)

Summary: You've grown close to Castiel since he raised Dean from perdition. You became the closest of friends, but for the last year and a half your feelings for the celestial being have turned into something more... romantic. Castiel has been acting odd around you, and your almost curtain it's because he shares the same romantic attraction towards you as you do him.

*smut warning*

You just finished making food for the boys. You were dressed in a white tank top and a pair of jogging shorts, you had decided to dress down since you knew how much heat would be radiating from the stove. Not to mention how hot you've been lately.
You had caught a cold when out with the boys on a hunt.

~flashback~

While on the hunt you had insisted that Sam and Dean should search around the scene of the crime while you checked for any disturbances outside of the house. You had been walking around the back yard, flashlight in hand when you spotted an odd substance in a window just below the house where the cellar sat. You were bending down to get a better look, horrified as you stared at the gooey substance along with the random small body parts. You grabbed a stick to move it around, finding an ear and some teeth. You nearly gagged.
"Sam, Dean!" You yelled as you stood up and tossed the stick, "I think it's a-"
Your call for the boys was cut short as the creature appeared behind you and covered your mouth and nose. You flailed and thrashed in its abnormally strong arms. The last thing you managed to see before you fell unconscious was the reflection of the creature in the cellar window. The fucker was wearing your face.

You woke up in a cold and damp cellar, your hands tied behind you and your back propped up against a cold metal pipe. You slowly blinked your eyes open, letting out a muffled groan against the cloth lodged in your mouth. Your head was pounding like there were a group of circus chimps running around with hammers and assaulting your brain. You looked up to see the creature fixing it's hair in the reflection of an old dirty mirror hung crooked on the wall. It smiled and winked before looking at you in the reflection. It smiled even wider as it pivoted and sauntered over to you. It placed its hands on your knees and leaned forward, drawing your head back as you came face to face with your own features.

"I'm going to enjoy eating your dearest little boys up." It smirked, looking back at you with your own (y/e/c) eye. You rolled your eyes and furrowed your brows as you cast a cold glare upon the creature. If this cloth wasn't holding back your words you'd be yelling profanities at it.

"I heard they called on your pretty boy angel, too." It licks its lips seductively, "I can't wait to get a taste of him." It purred.
You hiss into the cloth and wrench your head forward, busting its lip against your forehead. It yowled and stumbled back. It lifted its, or your, hand to place a finger on its lip. Pulling its hand away, it stared at the red substance.
"Now I'm really gonna hurt those boys."
It walked over and lifted its foot, your eyes shutting tightly as you prepared for the blow. It kicked you square in the jaw, sending your head slamming back against the pole. You were yet again knocked unconscious.

You woke up again in the same damp fucking cellar. You hissed, your eyes squinting at the sharp pain in your jaw and the back of your head. Your sure that the kick had resulted in an ugly bruise. You tried to pull the knots out of the restraints tied around your hands, to no avail. You dipped your head to your chin and pressed your tongue against the damp fabric, wedging your lip under the cloth an finally slipping it down your chin and around your neck. You closed your eyes and began to pray.

"Castiel, dear god I really fucking hope you can hear me. Whatever is wearing my face, Cas, it isn't me. Poughkeepsie, Castiel, tell the boys about Poughkeepsie." You let out a strained huff. Now all you had to do was wait and hope that it hadn't jumped the Winchesters or your angel yet.
You had been locked up in the cellar for hours now, you'd tried counting, but you lost track. It had been at least 8 or 9 hours. You could feel your stomach rumble. You were sure that the boys had most likely handled it, but you knew it would take longer for them to find where the creature had stored you. You began to hum little bo peep and tap your feet. You decided to occupy yourself with singing songs in the damp area, sneezing every so often. You even resorted to hanging your head and trying to catch some z's, and when that didn't work you were left to daydreaming. Another hour had passed, or so you thought, when you could hear the clambering of feet above and the muted sound of talking. You nearly leapt to your feet, but you'd been sitting in a same position so long that your joints had locked up.
"Boys!" You screamed, your voice strained from the humming and singing, "I'm down here!"