Supernatural Imagines and One-shots (Requests Closed)

How you Meet - Lucifer and Castiel

Lucifer:

"How could you screw up so badly?" Dean yelled at you for the third time. "You could have gotten us all killed. Damn it, Y/N."

As you had the previous two times, you crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him. The way you saw it, it wasn't you that screwed up. It was him. The three of you were taking out a nest of vampires and you were taking a carefully calculated risk that might have gotten you injured but would have allowed you take out two of the vamps in one swift move. 

Dean decided you were an idiot that was trying to get killed and intervened. And you had nearly lost your head as a result but he didn't see it that way. 

"Say something, Y/N," Sam said in a much calmer tone than the one his brother used. 

"You need to realize that I hunted alone for a long time. I'm used to taking actions that you might consider risky to get done what needs to be done. I couldn't count on anyone coming to help me. Don't assume I haven't thought ten steps ahead. I'm not an idiot." You kept your voice measured and calm but your jaw was tight. 

Dean deflated. "No one thinks you're an idiot."

You arched a brow. "Could have fooled me, Winchester."

"Listen--" Dean started but you held up a hand to cut him off. 

"Let's drop this for right now. I am going to get a drink at the bar next door. Alone. If you two need a drink go somewhere else or open the bottle in my bag." You walked out of the room, slamming the door behind you for good measure. 

A quick walk across the parking lot brought you to the bar. You sat on a stool and ordered a whiskey neat. Someone sat on the seat next to you but you didn't even look in their direction. 

"You shouldn't drink alone. It's not healthy," a smooth voice said from beside you. 

You responded by ordering another drink. You had no interest in being picked up tonight.

"Oh. You're the quiet type. I see." There was silence for a couple of minutes until he spoke again. "I am rather surprised to see you here all alone. I thought the Winchesters kept a better eye on you than that."

You sat your glass back on the bar and started to work a blade out of the sleeve of your jacket. Suddenly you were surrounded by a warm male body against your back. One hand clasped around your arm, keeping you from brandishing the blade. 

"None of that now. It won't work on me anyway, sweetheart," the voice said in your ear, lips brushing your skin as he held his head beside yours. 

Your eyes darted up to the mirror and you sucked in a breath. Blue eyes met yours in the reflection and he smiled. His dark blond hair was a mess and stubble lined his jaw. You couldn't deny he was attractive, though you recognized him from the brothers' description. "Lucifer," you breathed out.

His smile widened. "You know who I am. That makes things simpler, Y/N Y/L/N. I think we're going to great friends."

Your heart sped and a shiver of fear crawled up your spine. Not because of his words or even who he was. No, you were petrified because reflected in the mirror you saw a stunning set of angel wings spread out behind Lucifer. That meant only one thing and Satan's soulmate wasn't real high on your list of life goals. The boys were going to be pissed.

Castiel: (this one gets a little violent. Fair warning.)

You liked your life. It was simple and dull and you were okay with that. You were engaged to the man you'd been dating since high school. Your parents were still married to each other and seemed to be healthy and happy. You had finished rereading your favorite Carver Edlund book that morning and were currently having Sunday dinner at your parents' place.

Your boyfriend Timothy sat on the opposite side of the table from you as you ate. He was quiet today but you didn't think anything of it as he'd gotten home late the night before. 

"I almost forgot, I made your favorite," your mother said with a smile. "Apple pie."

She started to get up but Timothy put a hand on her arm to stop her. "I'll get it, Jean."

"Thank you, dear," she said with a smile. 

When he returned from the kitchen, he sat the pie on the table. It looked and smelled delicious. You smiled as Timothy lifted the knife to cut the pie. Instead, he drove the blade into the base of your father's skull with one swift movement. His eyes widened in shock and blood started to pour from his mouth. 

Your mother and you screamed as you backed away from the table, your mouths open in shock. Timothy grinned at you as he twisted the blade before pulling it from your father. His eyes turned black before snapping back to their normal brown. A demon? But he couldn't be. Those books weren't real. 

"Mom!" you yelled and held out your hand for her as she backed away from the thing that was your boyfriend. Her hands were clasped over her mouth as she looked between your father's body and Timothy. "Mom! Run!" you yelled. Your voice seemed to sink in and she turned to do just as you said but she wasn't fast enough. Wasn't near fast enough. 

Tears clouded your eyes and flowed down your face as you ran into the kitchen. You threw open the cabinet where the salt should be only to find your mother had rearranged the cabinets again. There might be some in the pantry, but once you entered there was no way out. Instead, you ran out the other door of the kitchen only to be met by the Timothy thing entering the living room as well from the other side. 

He grinned at you, not even pretending to be human anymore. His eyes were pure, inky black. "Just hold still, Y/N. It won't hurt. Much."

"Screw you." You dove for the fireplace, grabbing the poker sitting next to it. 

The thing laughed at you. "What do you think you're going to do with that, sweetheart? You can't hurt me."

It moved closer, brandishing the blade. Once it was in range you swung the poker. It kept the swing from hitting its head but frowned from the force you put into it. You didn't give it time to react, you swung the poker again and again. First it dropped the knife, then it fell to its knees. Finally it collapsed completely to the floor and held up its hands in a feeble attempt to stave you off, a look of confusion on its face. "Ten years of softball, asshole," you said before taking one last swing at the head. 

A satisfying crack filled the room and you moved away until your back hit the wall. A cloud of black smoke poured from Timothy's mouth and dove for you only to turn away at the last moment. You were suddenly grateful that you were an avid enough fan of Edlund's to get a tattoo of the anti-possession symbol he wrote about. 

A silver blade slashed through the smoke and it disappeared. A man with dark hair and blue eyes wearing a trench coat and a suit stood in its place. He tilted his head as he looked you over. "My name is Castiel. I am here to assist you."

A/N: I don't even...what was that. And that picture.