Because sometimes we just need a little weird fluff in our lives with a certain king of hell. ;)

Okay, I know I was supposed to be good and not post anymore ongoing stories while I worked on finishing the ones already up, but.. I just HAD to write this one. I'm sorry... Don't kill me alright? I'll write religiously all week to get those updates out fast! Promise?

This is based loosely off of a dream I had, and I really just fell so in love with it that I didn't want to forget. Hopefully it's relatable, I don't really like xreaders that have input slots, makes the whole story feel incomplete. So, even though I don't have them, feel free to input your own personality or physical appearance parts, name, whatever you like. Thanks to someone's helpful review, it's still a blank page, I had a name I used but I liked their idea better. There's just no random (insert here) icons crowing up my pages now. :)

-LF

I'm not a very beautiful girl. At least, that's my opinion. I've got some pimples, though they can usually be hidden by some makeup. My hair is always tangled and untamed, but I wear hats that shape my face. I haven't got a model's figure, but I know how to wear clothes that look good. I may snap at you if you're on my nerves, but rest assured, my friends may die at an early age from laughing too hard. I've got good points and bad ones, just like anyone else.

I'm the kind of person that hides away in a dark room where I can see my laptop a little better. People are awful, and fanfictions are life. I'd like to think there are other hopeless fangirls like me somewhere out in the world, that we could all meet up some day, drink way more caffeine than we should, and discuss all the crazy theories and questions we've accumulated in our fascinating, odd, brains.

I guess, some of us are introverts, some of us are socially attuned, some of us a funny, some are smart, some are talented, some... don't know what they want to be. And some of us... well, we just are. It's not a bad thing, in fact, it's reasonable. I suppose. Maybe I'm rambling again. Too many thoughts jammed in my brain and not enough ways to vent them all at once leaves me in situations like this.

There was a point to this; I'm an average, awkward, not-so-good-looking girl.

But I guess not everyone thought that.

I was at a point in my life where relationships seemed cruel, if not pointless. They started sweet, never lasted, and ended badly. Maybe that's a gruesome way of putting it, but it was how I truly felt. It was another weekday. School was over, and I was huddled in front of the TV, wrapped in something warm and flipping through the episodes of Supernatural on Netflix. Of course, I'd already seen them all, waiting vainly for the site to catch up and finally release the new season. One of those days where you feel like reminiscing. I watched with a blank stare, just sort of thinking. I'd gone through one of the toughest break ups in my years, someone I'd been friends with for years, discarded because of a mistake, but we were still supposed to be friends. It was harder for me then it was for them...

Still staring mindlessly at the television, I might have dozed a little, just barely catching the boys speak and summon the supernatural beings with a single man tear and a plea. Then Dean and Cas would have their moments of eye sex, Sam would pout, Crowley would do something that should be expected by that point, and the boys would be a little more broken for the journey. I began thinking of how wonderful it would be to be able to just say "Please come" and have someone you loved just show up for your sake. That second. When you really needed them there. My mind wandered further, if it was somehow possible for someone who didn't live in this pumped up Supernatural universe. If I could make a deal. Would I? Deals were always a bad idea, and came back to bite someone in the ass once all was said and done. But... for the sake of happiness.. I began thinking that maybe I would. Maybe I would make a deal for something like that.

"Well, someone is thinking very nasty thoughts." Came a deep, slightly raspy voice.

I jumped in my seat, nearly jolting right out of my skin, and released a little yelp. Standing before me was the very man I'd been fantasizing about making a deal with. The image that the show had provided me with; Mark Shepard, dressed in a tux, a little whiskey on the breath, and a shit-eating-grin. "Hello Darling."

"Holy shit!" I let out, before really being able to stop myself. I mean, I didn't remember falling asleep, and... well there's no logical reason for Mark Shepard to just appear in my home. If there was, the world would be a different -but amazing- place.

"I see you have a dirty mouth to match that head of yours." he smirked.

"You're- you're not real... Supernatural... Mark Shepard- Crowley... not real. TV show!"

The man brushed something from his shoulder, looking as disheveled and calm as he appeared in the show, "Calm down love, you'll hurt yourself."

"I- What the hell?!"

"Really, you'd think a girl like yourself should have gotten the big picture by now." he scolded, swinging around and pressing the power button of my television just as Crowley came onto the screen. It was trippy. Like he had come right off the screen, and was making small talk in that same Scottish accent.

"I think I'm going insane." I laughed, shutting my eyes and leaning back against my couch, hands covering my face. I told myself it would all just disappear when I opened them again. "This couldn't be real."

"Honestly darling, do I have to spell it out for you." he groaned, "You called Me."

My eyes snapped open and I drew my hand away, "I-"

All I'd done was watch the show. I'd been thinking about being happy and the breakup but- ... then it dawned on me. "You're... a demon? Here to make a deal?"

"And we have a winner." He drew his hands together for a slow clap, staring down at me with a barely amused expression.

"And... the reason you're wearing Mark Shepard?" I questioned, giving his figure a once over.

"Wouldn't you believe that your beloved actor was really a demon?"

"Nope."

The demon smirked, "I can appear in any form I like. This was one you were familiar with, so I'm, as they say on that show of yours, "Wearing him to the prom"."

Demon. In my living room. Talking to me. Wearing Mark Shepard as a meat suit. I must be off my rocker. "I'm definitely insane." I muttered, shaking my head.

"Of course." he chuckled, "But wouldn't you find it boring not to be? All the interesting people are at least a little mad."

"Am I dreaming?"

"Afraid not."

"Hallucinating?"

"No."

"Did someone slip me something?"

"And why would they?"

I shrugged, "Rape? Loss in credentials? Not that I really have any... Maybe this is just my brother, I stole one of his microwaveables for lunch. Did he poison it?"

The demon blinked at me for a moment, then shook his head, "You certainly have more than a small spark of madness running through those veins. Don't you?" I watched, bewildered as he grinned, held out a hand, and introduced himself, "As you may have guessed, I'm a demon. While my name is not Crowley, you're more than welcome to call me by it. It seems fitting for this body anyhow."

I hesitantly took his hand, more for the sake of my sanity, just to make sure he was really a physical being. His hand felt solid at least. It... may have been real. I said my name softly, the insanity of the situation weakening my voice to almost nothing. He retracted his arm, and smiled the same, pasty grin I'd seen when he first appeared.

"Well then, now that the introductions are out of the way... What do you say love? Shall we get down to business?"