#dick roman

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pairing: castiel x f!reader

summary: You just wanted to get your degree and talk about fish. How the hell did you get here?

tags: slow burn, sometime post s7 or s8, i shift some things around tl wise, pretend it all makes sense, im trying my best here, cass is at full power like s4, canon typical violence and behaviour, leviathans, dick roman being dick roman, so a dick, angels and demons, demon possession, not great descriptions of it but its there, cursing, misogynistic language, i'll keep updating tags as we go

author's note: my first serious supernatural fic please be kind to me. castiel x reader because the world needs far more of it (send me recs!) and i am a cas girl til the day i die. i have lots of ideas for this fic and some others so i hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.4k

ao3 | masterlist

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Chapter One - I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

People were usually quite surprised when you told them you didn't hate your job.

It was a fair assumption to make, working night shifts at the gas station obviously wasn't ideal and didn't have many perks, but it was a bit of extra cash in your pocket while you focused on finishing up your studies. Your daytime internship was more for experience than paying bills, but you knew it would help you out to have a big company on your resume alongside your degree when the time to apply to what would hopefully be a lifelong career came. Working at the gas station was convenient, close enough to your apartment that you could go back home in the morning when Ryan took over for the day shift and recharge slightly before getting ready for the day. Your boss wasn't around very often, and honestly didn't really care how you filled your time between customers as long as you didn't fall asleep and let the place get ransacked like his last night shift employee did. So you opted to have some of your remaining classes online and typically used lulls in the night to complete your classwork.

You'd have your regulars come in to grab their items, a couple fellow night shift employees grabbing their mid-shift coffee and protein bar, other grad students looking like they're falling apart at the seams and grabbing the largest energy drink in stock or the shitty knock-off cup ramen in the back, and then you'd be left alone again for a while until the next customer came in. Your personal favorite was Marlon, the older gentlemen on the corner by the public library that comes in every couple days towards the end of your shift to grab a small black coffee and a pack of jerky bites (you knew he gave the majority of those to his dog, and he really tried to fight you when you started saving packs of cheese cracker sandwiches behind the counter to sneak into his bag, but eventually you convinced him to stop worrying about what your boss might think and just accept the snack).

Overall, your job was chill. A steady source of income that kept you fed and housed until something better came along.

You were having a normal night, not many customers were coming in today so you were working on the last chapters of your reading when the bell above the front door signaled someone's arrival. Glancing up you noticed it wasn't one of your regulars, it was a man you had never seen before. Occasionally there were some newcomers, people rolling though town and stopping by for a quick pick-me-up before moving on with their night, so you didn't pay too much mind to him. Gave him a simple "let me know if you need anything" and went back to your business. He was silent as he browsed the aisles, grabbing various items as he walked. A pack of beer, some jerky, two mini cherry pies and a premade salad. He stared at the magazine stand for a moment before coming up to the counter and placing his goods in front of you.

"Is that everything?"

"Yes." His voice was rougher than you expected.

You took a moment to take in his appearance while you scanned everything. He was tall, (objectively handsome), and dressed oddly professional for this time of night — a suit and tie with loafers under a long, tan trench coat.

At the end of the transaction he simply thanked you and walked out, leaving you intrigued in a way you didn't quite understand.

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You didn't expect to ever see him again, assuming that he was just passing though and making a quick pit stop that one night a week and a half ago. So when you noticed he walked in again you were surprised and sat up a bit straighter in your chair. Something about this guy made you want to ask questions, get a read on who he is.

He was silent as he walked around again, grabbing the same items as last time. You racked your brain trying to find something to say to him, but ultimately came up short and just checked him out like any other customer. As soon as he left you decided that if you ever saw him again, you'd definitely be speaking to him. He had a compelling aura surrounding him, and you knew in the rational part of your brain that you really might never see this man again and there was no real reason for you to be so enamored by him other than him maybe being nice to look at. He was most likely just staying for a few days and leaving by tomorrow, but deep down you knew you'd get another chance. You didn't know how or why, but you just knew.

You were proven right just three days later.

He came in at the end of your shift as you were ringing up Marlon. Ryan was running late today so you were stuck at the register a bit later than usual. You had a long night and wanted to get some shut eye before heading in to your internship, so you were starting to get annoyed when the next person to walk in wasn't Ryan — but it was the handsome stranger. You watched him as he wondered the aisles yet again, but as you were getting ready to compliment his coat (you've noticed he wears the same outfit every time, you guess he's some type of business man) he came up to counter and asked, in a slightly frantic tone, "Where's the pie?"

You were a bit taken off guard, but you let him know "Sorry, sir, but we ran out a little while ago. It'll be restocked later."

He looked dejected, but this was the longest conversation you've had with him and your skin was itching for more. So you decided to try and keep him in the store for a bit longer, "You here for work?"

He was hesitant as he answered you, you were scared you made him uncomfortable but it seemed as though he just wasn't expecting to speak more today. "Yes, work."

"Having any fun?"

"Not particularly. I do enjoy the scenery, though."

"Oh, if you're around for a while you should check out some of the hiking trails up north. The views are gorgeous this time of year, and I've heard the lake has some nice fishing spots if you're into that." Your old roommate used to take weekend trips to camp on the lake shore, he always seemed lighter and had beautiful photos to share afterward.

"That does sound lovely. My friends are quite fond of fishing for its meditative qualities when they aren't working, and I've always found marine life to be among some of the more fascinating creatures."

He had an odd way of speaking, but it was kind of endearing. Maybe English wasn't his first language? "You join them often?"

"I'd like to more. I remember, years ago, being at a shoreline watching a little gray fish heave itself up on the beach." He took a deep breathe as he recalled the memory. "That fish had big plans." He looked up at the ceiling as he proclaimed, "I miss you little fish."

Okay. This guy is definitely a little strange, maybe more than a little. You found him more confusing than off-putting, though. You like to think your discernment skills are decent, and he doesn't seem dangerous at all. Just a bit…odd.

"Right. Well, I hope you get a chance to relax up there..."

"Steve."

"Nice to meet you, Steve. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, too, Y/n. I'll be listening to your suggestions."

"Come back and tell me about the fish!" You hoped he could tell you genuinely meant it, if he was staying long enough to visit the lake you wanted to see him again and hear about his adventures.

He smiled back at you as he responded, "I will. Thank you."

Ryan came in shortly after he left, neither of you aware that he had been outside watching the whole time.

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Ryan has been late every single day for the past two weeks. He's usually very punctual, coming in at 6 AM on the dot and always notifying you if he was running a bit behind, usually only ten or fifteen minutes at most. Lately, though, he's been coming in almost an hour late and not even telling you what's going on. Every day there's some lame excuse for where the hell he's been, his car broke down or there was traffic or he overslept, then he gets snippy when you bring up that you have another job to go to when your shift ends so you really need him to at the very least tell you when he's behind. You've had to start meal prepping and bringing in your breakfast to your internship rather than eating in the comfort of your apartment. It's either that or you have to buy breakfast from the office cafeteria, which is expensive and always makes you feel very lethargic so you tend to avoid it when possible.

The only upside is you get to talk to Steve. He's started coming in a few times a week, usually pretty early in the morning to grab coffee and pie, and you'd have short conversations while ringing up his items. He had started to ask about what you were studying when he noticed the textbook you had bookmarked off to the side of the counter every time he came in, and you would ask him about any hikes or fishing trips he went on recently. A few days ago you told him about the new species of ghost shark that was just discovered in New Zealand, and he told you all about a shark in Greenland that was born in the 17th century.

(What you didn't tell Steve was he ignited a spark of curiosity in you that led to reading about marine life during your breaks and signing up for a couple news alerts just to have these conversations with him and watch his eyes light up whenever you ask him questions).

You were just about to message Ryan again when Steve came in, but you noticed that this was the first time he didn't come alone. Two other men walked in with him, one of them heading towards the snacks while the other grabbed a newspaper and went to the small selection of produce. Steve looked nervous as he came up to the counter. He kept looking back at the men who came in with him with a look that said his patience was already being tested and it's not even six thirty yet.

"Morning, Steve."

"Good morning, Y/n."

"Are those your friends?"

"Yes. They are, uh, helping me with some work."

"Cool." You got the sense that he wanted to talk about anything else, so you told him about the documentary you watched on giant squids (apparently they can occasionally display cannibalistic behaviors for reasons currently unknown —definitely an odd fun fact to open with but you've found that Steve likes weird nuggets of information like that. It gets him going about certain species of salamanders and sharks that do the same). He was in the middle of explaining how some animal parents will consume the offspring they suspect will not be able to survive on their own when the other men came up behind him and began placing their items on the counter.

"Dude, is this your version of flirting?" The shorter man asked as he placed a pack of beer and several packs of jerky in front of you. "I thought I taught you better than this."

"Dean, all you taught him was to carry singles and protection at all times."

"Hey, I also taught him to loosen his tie when he goes out. That's definitely helped out a bit, ain't that right, bud?"

Steve looked like he was seconds away from evaporating into thin air as the two men spoke about him and his "flirting" skills as though he weren't even there, and as though you weren't able to hear them either. His apologetic eyes met your confused ones for a second before quickly moving behind him to say "My socialization skills are just fine without your input, Dean."

"Aw, no need to be all shy now."

"Is this everything for you guys?" You interjected, hoping to spare your new friend from the relentless teasing.

"Yes, please don't mind my brother." This clearly isn't the first time the taller man has had to put up with his brother's pestering, and you can only assume it's the same for Steve.

You smiled at the group's antics as you bagged up their items, wishing them a good day and saying bye to Steve as they walked out.

Ryan walked in almost immediately after they left, and your good mood was swiftly soured. "Dude, seriously, where the hell have you been?" He didn't say anything as he walked up to the counter and just looked at you. "I've got places to be, I can't keep covering for you while you're off god knows where."

He laughed at your comment, but you were already rounding the corner to leave the store so you didn't see the wicked grin that overtook his face as he did.

"God doesn't know shit, you poor dumb bitch."

You stopped dead in your tracks, Ryan has never spoken to you like that before. "What?" You two weren't friends by any means, especially not recently with his tardiness and disregard for your time and responsibilities, but you've always been cordial with each other. This attitude from him was completely unexpected and unnecessary.

"I said, you are one stupid, annoying bitch that I really wish would just shut the fuck up sometimes. All the time, actually."

"Wow. Okay, fuck you too, Ryan." You didn't know what else there was to say at his outburst, so you just walked towards the door so you could leave and go on with the rest of your day before he made it any worse, but as you were about to move past him he shifted to be directly in front of you. "What the hell?"

You tried to go around him again, but he just blocked your path again.

"Ryan, what the fu—"

He cut you off with a sharp slap to your cheek before slamming you against the corner wall and shoving his arm against you chest while his other hand held your wrists above your head. "Tell me about those Winchesters."

Winchesters? You've officially had enough of whatever psychotic fucking break this man was having. You brought your foot up to meet his groin as you shouted at him, "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

You were about to grab the bag you had dropped and run out while Ryan was hunched over when you were suddenly thrown back against another wall again, but this time Ryan wasn't holding you there. No, he wasn't touching you at all — how the fuck was he doing that?

"You know, I really wanted to just kill you when I was first assigned this position. Why the hell do we need to hang on to some random human from the fucking accounting department? But no, no they wanted you alive for some reason. Said too many people would notice or some shit, and that you could be useful if we kept you around long enough. I thought it was bullshit — humans are grubby little insects. Only ever been good for meat suits, maybe food on occasion for some of our sharp-teethed friends, but now I'm finally starting to see their point."

There was too much happening right now. You were still stuck against the wall somehow, apparently Ryan wants to kill you, and has for a while, and now he's saying you're useful? Wait, did he say humans? Meat suits? Fuck, your coworker may be an honest to god serial killer.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He crouched down in front of you, looking at you with the most intense rage you've ever seen in another person. His eyes were so sinister as they locked on to yours.

"I've been watching you for weeks. You have a relationship with the Winchesters' little pet."

You were so lost. Ryan has been watching you? He keeps mentioning Winchesters, but you don't know what the hell that is. What relationship is he talking about? You needed to keep talking, keep distracting him with questions until another customer came in and could help you getaway from him, or until you can move your hands and claw his eyes out or something—

His eyes. What's wrong with his eyes? There's a black ink slowly starting to seep out of them, filling up his entire socket with dark nothingness all the way from his tear ducts to the outer corners. He's looking at you, but you can't see anything when you look at him. What the hell are you looking at?

"So like I said, Y/n," he moved to grab your face, "Roman thinks you're useful."

There was no time for you to panic as black smoke shot out of his mouth and fought its way inside your body.

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You've been held prisoner within your own mind and body for four days now, and every single second has been excruciating. You watched as your own hands snapped Ryan's neck and dragged him into the back office. Every inch of your skin felt like is was being pierced with needles that were held over an open flame, and trying to shove your own consciousness back to the forefront felt like pouring alcohol over the holes being left in your body.

All of your time is being spent at the gas station. You only leave when it decides to run an errand, which in their case is usually some horrendous act of violence you're forced to enact. You can't seem to take back any form of control of your own body. Regardless of how much you claw at your own skull you can't stop your hands from slitting someone's throat, and you can't warn people to run away or call for help. It talks to people using their victims' blood in languages you don't understand. On the second night after having the black smoke consume you, you met with one of the other employees in your office building, except they also had black eyes you had never seen before. You tried to listen to what they were saying, figure out what the hell was happening and how to end it, but it was as though your head was being held underwater. The world was garbled when this thing would take you on its journeys. It prevented you from being fully cognizant during its conversations with its acquaintances, but it made sure that you had a front row seat to its bloodshed and abuse.

The thing inside of you went on high alert when it saw them walk in. It was Steve's friends from the other day, the ones who teased him while he was talking to you. God, you needed to find a way to talk to them. Warn them, get them as far away from here as possible. You didn't even want to consider the possibility of this thing, you, hurting them and in turn hurting Steve. Oh, god, Steve. If his friends are here he must be nearby. You really didn't like the pit in your stomach that was growing by the second.

You felt your eyes slowly trail after each of the men as they wondered the aisles. It was studying them. Waiting.

"Just you two today?" That was your voice speaking, but it wasn't your words. They came out lower, more calculated. You wanted to tell them to get the hell out of there, but what you said was "Where's your friend?"

The shorter guy, Dean? He smirked as he approached the counter and said, "Oh, he got nervous. Still feeling a bit embarrassed from last time."

"That so?"

"Yeah. I think he wanted to keep you for himself to be honest, not that I blame him."

Your guts were twisting inside of you, the pure disgust this thing felt towards this man was visceral, almost nauseating. You could feel the desire to rip him and his brother apart running through your veins, but it was holding back.

"How sweet."

It continued to slowly scan the items placed in front of you without saying much else.

"Hey, where's the pie? You were all out back there."

"Really? Let me go get some for you." Oh no. There was no sincerity there, it was planning something. You couldn't stop your body as it moved towards the storage room, but there was no pie to grab when you got there. Instead, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, making a call to a number you didn't recognize. You told whoever picked up that "the Winchesters" were there, and hung up before grabbing a piece of wood from a broken pallet and heading back out.

Dean had his back turned to you as you approached him, and the plaid wrapped tree (its words, not yours) was distracted in a separate section of the gas station.

"Sorry," you heard your voice say as you began to raise the wooden plank like a bat. "Looks like we're all out."

He turned as you swung at his head, ducking out of range just as a collision was about to happen. This enraged the thing inside of you, its eyes turning black as it moved to swing again towards his feet, knocking him flat on his back as you continued trying to smash his head in.

The commotion called the attention of the taller man, but as he was about to step in to help his brother three more men you had never seen came into the gas station and began another attack.

Dean had you pressed up against the counter when they came in. His eyes locked on one of them in recognition, "Edgar" he had said, and his grip loosened slightly, allowing you, it, to shove him away and land a few more blows before letting the newcomer have his way with him.

It was about to have you run out when it saw another person blocking the door.

Steve. You felt your heart drop, except anything you felt was being strictly contained to a tiny box all the way down in the pits of your mind. You weren't in control of your own mind or body, haven't been for days, and all you could feel was the wrathful fire inside of you. Steve's eyes were confused as he looked at you, squinting with his head tilted as you stood there staring back at him. Then it started laughing.

"Aw, look who decided to show up after all. You miss your girlfriend, Steve?" Its voice was laced with venom as it spoke, spitting the words out at Steve as it sauntered over to him.

"Get out of her." A blade fell out of his coat's arm as his jaw clenched, but it kept laughing. Taunting him.

"Or what?"

You saw something break in him. He was scared. He didn't want to hurt you, and you knew it could sense that. It was using his fondness for you to its advantage.

It showed no hesitation as it attacked him. Steve did defend himself well, but he made no moves to truly hurt you as he did. No offensive moves were made beyond trying to subdue you, and he was clearly restraining himself even then. Eventually he managed to shove you against the wall with his blade pressed into your neck.

"Go on, Steve. Kill me and kill your little sweetheart while you do." It was having fun doing this to you, cackling while it taunted Steve knowing he wasn't going to hurt you. Soon enough it had him on the ground with the blade kicked far away as it ruthlessly continued its onslaught.

"She really likes you, you know." Punch. "Thinks about dumbass ocean facts all the time." Punch. "Waiting for you to show up." Punch. "Every other thought in here is 'Steve.' I almost feel sorry for the stupid bitch."

It dragged Steve up to eye level as it lowered your voice and snarled, "Imagine how upset, how heartbroken, she would be if she knew the truth."

The truth?

It was about to go in for another hit when something splashed across your face, making your skin sizzle and burn as you fell to the ground.

Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas—

You had just stood up when your body stiffened in its place. What's happening now? It's like there's a tornado wreaking havoc on all of your organs and turning them into sludge as you look up to see the tall man walking towards you while chanting.

Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.

It was laughing again as it turned back towards Steve, who was still laying on the floor. Low, sinister.

"It's too late. Remember, you started this."

The storm brewing within you burst out with a sharp cry, swirling around in the air in a puff of black smoke before shooting towards the floor next to your now collapsed body.

The relief was brief, barely even a minute before you were being dragged up to your feet by your neck at the hands of one of the other intruders. You hadn't noticed that halfway through the exorcism they had tackled the man performing it, and now one of them was focused on you. He didn't seem to care that you were back to being just you again, in fact it appeared to make him even more bloodthirsty.

Edgar. That's what he was called.

"What are you doing?"

He was terrifyingly calm as he looked you in the eyes and responded, "Disposing of the trash." You attempted to push his hands away but his grip was relentless.

Then you saw teeth. Hundreds of teeth, jagged and feral, being bared at you as Edgar's head flipped open with a split tongue lashing out at you from in between the rows of nasty bone.

His head reared back, but before he could seemingly devour you whole his head was rolling around on the gas station floor, black goo now covering your face, clothes, and the massive blade in Dean's hand.

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"Are you okay?"