#the absolute clutch that cas has in the second one looking like hes afraid to let go

[castielfucks]

[chappedandfadedvds]

Jan 21st, Thursday 23:44

He felt his eyes bruning as he watched the game get closed by Lucas beside him. 

It was late and for the last hours they had been constantly talking. 

Right after dinner with Kes and Isa, to talk about the weekend and them arriving tomorrow. Lucas was already looking forward to have his friends over. They would visit Antwerp for the first time, unfortunately inmidst the pandemic, which therefore menat that they’d only get to see the trip from the station to Jens’s place. Maybe another time, it would be a little more exciting. 

Still, the sole fact that Lucas could hug his best friends tomorrow, was enough to forget about the rest.

And then at around nine the two both had bid their goodbye and switched towards the large group chat on discord, for some good ol’ Among Us.

Jens had been a bit wary as Lotte had joined them to talk to Isa, but fallen asleep halfway through the conversation. She had rested her head in his lap, as she had made herself comfortable. His blanket covered her whole and her breathing was even. He had brushed through her her for a while until he was with his friends.

Because it was loud and chaotic and constant talking and yelling over each other, especially as they were busy playing. Jens had been worried that it would wake his little sister. But she seemed to really be out of it. Hadn’t even moved, when Sander had screamed at Milan’s betrayal two games in.

Amber had voiced her adoration at the sight of the´m three huddled together on Jens’s bed. He silently had agreed to the serene bliss that showed on the little video on the screen in call.

With Lotte sleeping on one side, her head buried on his stretched out legs and Lucas to his left, pressed against Jens, it really looked domestic. The younger boy’s head fell onto his shoulder every time that Jens was taking control of the player. They were too many for the lobby anyway, so they had decided to switch back and forth between games at the start.

However, as the energy had subsideded and a pleseant weariness had made them all agree to stop for tonight, the group was still in call for a little while, just talking, checking their phones. Some already ready to go.

„Guys? Do you have like a minute left?“ Jens voiced, with Lucas turning around in curiousity. The same one that was instantly displayed by all of his friends given him their full attention. It was a bit fightening to suddenly be faced by complete silence. „I just wanted to tell you something real quick.“

Like whiplash, Jens was quickly swamped by everyone giving him words of encouragment to continue. It was hard to distinguish between the voices cracking over the speaker.

„Alright.“ 

„Of course.“

„Take your time.“

„What’s up, Bro? Spill.“ That last one, definitely had been Moyo.

„So. I know that I had been really distant, especially over the last couple of weeks. And thank you so much for sticking with me. I know I can be a dick. I didn’t mean to ghost you all. I just needed time to figure myself out.“ 

Sander looked as if he wanted to say something, but Jens just went on. He couldn’t stop here, or he would decide to defer this onto some later date. But he had promised Lucas to change, and this would be one of the steps to take. 

In all honesty his friends at least deserved that.

„This really means a lot to me. Especially since I havent really talked about everything that is going on. I promise you to do that, not today though. I hope you won’t be mad. But uhm, I actually meant it in the cabin, when I said that I will raise Lotte on my own.“ Jens paused for a second, his gaze dropping to the sleeping figure in his lap. He knew he had made the right desicion back in december. „So Today I got my court date to see the judge, who will hopefully grant me the complete guardianship over her. And I‘m really nervous.“ Jens ended and exhaled. He said nervous and it was the truth. On one hadn how his friends would react and if they would accept it. 

It certainly would complicate future plans. He couldn’t just spend a couple of weeks with them on trips, or go to spontaneous parties, or stay out after school, just because he felt like it. He knew it would change their dynamic. And he was afraid that he would loose his friends along the way.

„Wait, what? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?“ Lucas asked, simultaneously confused and surprised. It took Jens a solid minute to figure out the reason. Right, he hadn’t told the younger boy about it yet. 

„Because we were busy with other stuff.“ 

He realised to late, that this could be falsely construed. The whole voice chat was already in a struggle of wheezes and laughs as Jens quickly tried to take control back. „Calm the fuck down. With dinner. Jesus. Honestly. It was dinner preperation.“

„Yea. Only work and definitely no time for dick with this one.“ Lucas added unhelpful to the situation. It was a clear reference to the song they had listened to. The one that anybody else obviously haden’t and therefore could only worsen the glee in their eyes. There were high screeches and gasping lungs fighting for dominance on speaker.

Lotte briefly shifted, but nothing else.

Jens watched and waited. He could see Amber’s and Moyo’s wide eyes, while Milan, Jana and Robbe were clutching their stomachs. Sander only shook his head in feigned dissapointment as he grinned.

„Alright. Glad you all are having a great time.“ Jens pouted, despite the amused smile that gave him away.

„Sorry.“ Milan said, the laughs finally started to abate, only the occasional giggle slipped up.

„When’s the date?“ Yasmina chimed in. An angel, if anyone would have asked Jens. Everyone’s attention swiftly back on Jens, who pulled his phone out to check the mail once more. He definitely should write it down somewhere. 

„On the nineteenth of February. So a little under a month. Alex, our lawyer, tried to get one as soon as possible, because of the urgency with my mom. But yeah. That’s not that far from now, I guess.“

„Do you know, if it will be a hard to win?“ That was Zoe , Senne next to her, both rather calm inmidst the chaos his other firends displayed. He always felt a little like talking to parents, when they looked at him like this in unison.

„I don’t think so. We had all other potential adults sign a waiver and I’m eighteen. The only uncertainty could be financials, but that is unlikely. I have the house and inheritance and my father’s allowence. Still, it could go wrong.“

That’s what caused his nervosity in the first place, the sheer possibility that something could take Lotte away from him.

„No, it will be fine. I’m pretty sure. You have always been great with Lotte.“ Robbe stated acsolutely assured of his words, while Jana nodded in agreement in the video next to him.

Jens felt his heart ease up from tension. He was so thankful for his friends. Most of all Robbe. How had he deserved to find his best friend and keep him over all these years?

Even if everyone would leave at some point, included Lucas or anyone who would follow, Jens was frighteningly sure, that Robbe and him would stick together til the end. He couldn’t even place the reason for his strong belief. His best firend has just always been there next to him. The one constant in his life, since they met in first grade. 

„Robbe?“

„Yes?“

„I love you.“

Jens watched with great joy the face of his best friend, that brightened up into the brilliant smile that always lifted Jens up as well.

„Bro!“ Aaron declared, immediately accompanied by a stunning choir of awws and oows.

Lucas laughed next to him, his head resting again on Jens’s shoulder. He loved the weight. It meant that he wasn’t alone.

„I love you too.“ Robbe replied, still cheerful and grinning, yet certainly confused at the out-of-the-blue confession. Nonetheless both their declarations absolutely genuine in intent. Jens pondered if he ever had said these words on their own, and infront of others on top of it. But he just had felt right to say them out loud.

„Okay. Good night, everyone. Thanks for staying.“

„JENS! NO! You ca“

The audio of Luca screaming into her mic cut off, as Jens hit the red button to end the call. Quite pleased with himself. He knew that his friends weren’t satisfied with him just leaving. But it just was too funnny not to.

„So what do we do now with her?“ Jens said, pushing the laptop away, before lokking down at Lotte.

They settled on letting her sleep with them instead after Jens had suggested to carry her over. But of course Lotte had woken up from this and not the shouting voices minutes before. She had complained until Jens had told her that she could stay, to which she had asked for a goodnight kiss by both of them, before she sprawled herself across Jens’s side of the bed.

Lotte was back asleep not a minute later.

And though Jens rather would have had liked Lucas and him alone on their first night together after a week, he guessed that that would be some unfortunate part of his life now. He had said that out loud. And Lucas had only laughed on his way out to the bathroom, followed by Jens’s grumbling voice.

„Oh shut up. As if you hadn’t thought the same.“

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[spnsmile]

Cas' reaction when he finds out Dean's liver failure

I can't really imagine how except pure shock and immediate tackle 😂

On the other hand.. ✨

Dean doing everything just to get Cas' attention because he can't stand the angel ignoring him for many days after a petty quarrel. Except the Angel of the Lord is so done with his shit that Cas refuses to even look at him. But Dean knows Cas weakness: Cas could never stop caring about him . And he loves Cas for this absolute fact.

At first, it's all deliberate. 

He knows how Cas can't stand it when he's injured,  so Dean would pull the most outrageous stunts just to see Cas looking at him in concern. Sam called him an idiot when he noticed but Sam's not the one hungry for the angel's attention. 

So Dean times it. Needless to say,  he's an acrobat, though lately his left shoulder's been aching like a bitch. 

He begins with a fall on the stairs. Dean slips three steps down and lands on his stomach flat on the floor.  The air gets knocked out of his chest, he lets out an exaggerated groan that must've shooed birds outside and made the most excruciating expression. 

Both Sam and Cas rushed to his side, his brother asking him what hurts, 'what d'you think?' but Cas presses a finger on his forehead quickly upon seeing Dean's face without asking. Dean pulls away like he's burned. No way he's wasting any of his boyfriend's mojo for real. 

The look of surprise on the hunter's face is mirrored on the angel. 

And it worked.  

Castiel transfixes him a glare so deep and said warningly, "Dean."

Attention taken. Dean doesn't let him so Cas is on him the entire day. He noticed bruising on his stomach after it and tells himself not to get too much into it. 

The second time the chance opened, they are outside the car in an empty street.  Cas is still inside the impala while the brothers prepare the weapons. 

Dean gets a classic act of timing Sam shutting down the impala's trunk lid on his right hand. Of course it's just skin,  but Dean can always exaggerate. 

He yowls in pain while poor Sam frantically fumbles for the keys. Cas panics beside him when he checks the commotion and nearly ripped apart baby's lid away if Dean didn't snatch his red skin from the trunk, looking horrified. 

Cas this time grabs his wrist. Did not even let him speak and just heals him, telling Dean  Cas it's just a car in comparison to his limb so Dean doesn't talk to him for a day. Cas also unwittingly removed his bruising stomach. 

Third time's a real accident. Dean simply pretended to fix the sink's pipe when a jolting abdominal pain hits him bad, he knocks his brain out when he pulls up- the thud is heard all over the kitchen. Dean groans because the bump is real and his stomach is in pain,  so when he sees Cas already by the door, looking around the room where he heard Dean's cry, Dean calls for him. 

The two looked at each other,   the blue eyes round and wide while the green is teary from the pain. He watches as Cas walks toward him,  kneels down and looks him searchingly in the eyes. Questionningly at first, then alarm. 

He cradles Dean's cheeks on his palms,  fitting Dean there, making the hunter blink for a moment. Cas suddenly clicks his tongue like he's chastising himself before he scoops Dean to his arms and stands up,  carrying the hunter bridal style while the Dean complains aloud to be let down. Cas doesn't. 

Not even when Sam stops to look from the kitchen doorway.  One look at Cas'expression and Sam is moving out of his way,  not wanting to be involved. 

Dean goes on complaining until the corridor where Cas gives him this glare so piercing it shut the hunter's lip till they reach his room. 

Heart pounding when Cas stops at the edge of the bed,  Dean's thoughts crisscrosses on things they can both do,  except he feels nauseus and cold at the moment.

Then his heart skips a beat when he sees Cas look at their bed. 

For one wild moment,  Dean thought Cas would drop him there and just ravish him.  He saw the longing in the angel's eyes, so it's a surprise to him when Cas slowly puts him down and lays him across as gentle as possible like he's cradling a child. 

But then Cas pulls the hem of his shirt up away from his stomach.  Dean jerks up, excitement and nausea mixing in his body. Cas puts a hand on his shoulder,  eyebrows contracted, blue eyes solemn. 

"Don't move."

Dean blinks.  He wants to ask what's wrong but the look is enough to silence the hunter and just trusts the angel.  

"Dean,  what do you feel?"

"Huh? Uh... well,  I got a boner for one thing."

"We can take care of that later."

Dean chuckles, the shaking of his body making him groan.  Castiel holds his arm. "Dean?" the angel suddenly touches his right side with the tips of his fingers and presses down Dean's stomach. 

Dean chokes in pain,  tears now welling up as he struggled to breath.  Castiel quickly removes his hand, then gets his palm over Dean's stomach. 

There's a pause then-

Dean sighs at the warm energy circling his side. Cas is doing something miraculous on his abdomen, causing Dean to sigh in relief.  Then it's all gone. 

Dean blinks and looks around inquiringly. Cas is still frowning over his exposed stomach. 

"Cas?"

"How long have you been in pain?"

"Uh...  Huh?"

"Your liver was failing, Dean. How could I let this happen?  It's my fault. " Cas weakly says, slumping his ass down the floor while Dean scrambles to a sitting position with quick hand clutching the sleeves of Cas'trench coat. Afraid Cas would go away. 

"Hey,  hey... What did you just say?  I got liver...?"

"Failure." Cas whispers, head bowed down. 

"Okay." Dean frowns.  Is that why he's been feeling weird lately? "Uh...  So how's that your fault?"

"Because I'd been ignoring you for the past days..." Cas groans, slamming his palms on his eyes,  "If I hadn't neglected you, this wouldn't have happened."

Dean surveys the angel for a moment,  then he chuckles. It did not pain him anymore. Castiel glares up though,  "You think this is funny?"

" I think you're over accepting responsibilities.  Cas, how could my liver or balls' failure be your fault?  This is my body, my responsibility."

"You're my responsibility." Cas replies flatly,  "You're mine."

And that's when Dean sees how Cas sees him. 

His.

"Come here,  bed." Dean says,  patting the otherside of the bed.  Like magic, Castiel snaps his fingers and he stands up only in his boxers.  Dean smiles as Cas tackles him on the bed, making Dean his little spoon.

"My body's failure is never on you,  Cas." Dean explains quietly, "I'm human."

"With a boyfriend angel.  That should make a difference." Cas isn't appeased. His grumpiness makes Dean chuckle. 

"Are you going to heal me forever?  You know... Like stop my skin from getting wrinkles and make me stay like some ken-doll forever?"

"If you permit forever."

"Yeah,  but you're gonna date an old guy soo,  Cas..."

"I think there's beauty in age." Cas murmurs on Dean's nape,  nipping on the skin and sighing. "I think you'd look more beautiful with age, Dean."

"Like Tom Cruise?" Dean chuckles,  squiggling away from the position so he can turn around the bed to face his angel.  

"You're more, always will be. He doesn't even begin to compare. . " Cas says,  pulling Dean closer and inhaling his scent. "Your soul will always be the same to me,  Dean. No matter how your vessel looks like."

"You say that now.  Wait till my hair is all white and my skin's all wrinkly-"

"So be it. I think you'll still look hot."

"Doesn't sound sexy at all." Dean pouts. "I mean,  you're not the guy who has to walk around with a hot boyfriend on his arm like some pimp."

 Cas suddenly props himself on one elbow,  staring at his boyfriend with unequal intent,  "Do you mean that?"

"Uhh... ?" The twinkle on Cas'eyes made the hunter go back to what he said just now. "What?  The part of you being my pimp?"

"You and me staying together." Cas says breathlessly. Even Dean has to pause to take in the angel's too happy face. "You said..."

Dean frowns like this never occured to Cas?  Then he remembered.. He never asked nor prepared to pop up the question. He did

"Of course,  Cas. I mean,  you're the one who can ditch me when you get tired of fixing my failing liver or failing kidney or failing personality.  You're my it, Cas. Nothing to change that now."

"I'll never tire of you,  Dean. We will grow old together if you want and then share your heaven some day." 

"Second heaven, you mean. This is the first." Dean snuggles closer to Cas,  basking himself in the angel's warmth. 

"First it is."

"Of the many?" Dean asks. 

"Of the many." Cas promises. 

"Marry me." Dean looks Cas in the eyes,  ring won't do because at that moment he knows he can promise Cas the moon. 

Castiel gives him sunshine. 

"Oh, Dean. Yes. " 

#still dont know how to cut this 🔪

[smol-and-grumpy]

Dear Dean (Chapter 12)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 5.1k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: Minor character death, some fighting, gore, crack, smut, fluff

SERIES MASTERLIST

September 2nd, 1944

They were stuck somewhere outside of Brest.

The shelling never stopped and it was already way past midnight. Dean was just so fucking sick of it. The shelling was faint, it wasn’t enough to cause any damage or threaten them, but it was enough to keep them all alerted. It was enough to keep them from getting any rest.

Dean went from foxhole to foxhole, asking his men if they needed anything that he could provide. Unfortunately, the supply officers still hadn’t come to find them and they were low on food. His platoon shared what they could, and Dean still had his chocolate in his webbing that he didn’t want to part with, but could if he had to. He ran down his line of men and at that point, he could tell that they knew that Dean was tired, too.

Castiel, too, was weary. He told them that he didn’t know what he should do. It could very well be tactical of the Germans to keep them up all night just so they would all be too exhausted come morning. Then they would all lose the fight they had been fighting so hard for. They had lost too many men to let that happen. Lost too much to give up.

Dean moved down the line, crouching at every foxhole and shell scraping, asking the same questions. Regardless of the situation, his men were still in high spirits. Moral was good and Dean could count himself lucky.

Dean stopped to crouch next to the hole where Jamie was sitting, looking over the rim of the foxhole to hold their line. Tran was in the hole sleeping, and Dean wished that he could find an empty hole to nap in. He wished that he’d found Bambi sleeping somewhere alone, because she was so small.  He’d fit in perfectly curled around her.

“You alright?” He asked her, and she smiled at him in response. It immediately warmed Dean’s heart and even though he was exhausted before, he didn’t feel like it anymore.

“Fine, sir.”

“How long has Tran been sleeping?”

“I don’t know. About two hours I guess.”

“Hey Tran,” Dean called down, waking him up. Bambi frowned. “Make room for me. I need to take a nap. Make sure to trade places with Bambi when you’re awake.”

Tran was small himself, and Dean was certain that he could fit in with him, too.

Tran moved a little in his sleep, making room for Dean’s broad frame and Jamie looked down at them, grinning as she saw them both wedged in the narrow hole. Sleeping next to each other.

It took Tran another half hour before he showed up, yawning. “Fuck, thanks Blum. I needed a nap.”

“You’re welcome. Just don’t forget what you promised me.”

Dean wasn’t asleep yet and he couldn’t unhear that sentence.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go quick and take a nap yourself. You never know when we have to fight again. It’s warm down there, too, the Lieutenant is a fucking furnace.”

Dean could hear her giggle before she lowered herself down and took off her helmet. She got comfortable next to him, not quite touching him until he spread out his arm for her to crawl into. Tran was busy watching the line, and Dean was sure that he could get away with it. Either way, it was worth the risk. She was worth the risk.

“Hi,” He said, his hand stroked from her cheek up to her hair.

“Hi.” She replied with a smile, and he kissed her. Her hand rubbed against his scruff. Dean needed to shave, he knew, but there’s just no time for it.

“What’s the promise?” He whispered low. Noise discipline was on and they couldn’t talk louder, but that was perfectly ok. In the foxhole, they were alone in their own little bubble, their own little world.

“I gave him my last chocolate and let him sleep longer than he should.”

Dean frowned a little. “You did?”

She nodded at him. “And he promised me to name his first born after me.”

Dean threw his head back in a fit of laughter. It was hard for him to keep his voice low.

“Shit, Jamie Tran. What a kid, huh?”

“Oh, that kid’s going places, alright.”

Dean kissed the top of her head before he shifted, making room in between them a little as not to raise suspicion. He told her to sleep a bit. Tomorrow was another hard day, and he wanted his men to be as rested as they could.

***

September 3rd, 1944

Baker was moving out. Fox and Dog companies were already on their way around the east while Baker took the west flank, taking out the trench system.

It seemed like a good idea at first, but then Dean found himself crouched in the dirt while Cas yelled over his head. Soldiers left and right of him fell down screaming for a medic or were not able to scream at all.

“Take cover! Take cover and get out of the way!”

The shell of the 280mm crashed on the ground and it almost took Dean’s legs out from under him.

Baker scattered.

Everyone who was still standing sprinted as the next shell screamed over their heads.

“Pull back! Pull back now! Come on, come on, let’s go!” Castiel yelled for Baker to retreat and everyone scrambled up.

Dean picked up private Rosen from the ground where he was bleeding from his leg. He hauled him up and continued to sprint. “Bambi!” He yelled, turning himself around 360° to see where Jamie was.

“Here, sir!” Bambi yelled back. She was on the ground, crouching next to Fitzgerald some odd couple of feet away from him. Dean could see the gaping wound on Fitzgerald’s thigh.  

He stalled, crouching down beside the two of them.

“You’re fine, alright? Just stay with me.” Bambi’s voice was calm as she searched on Fitzgerald’s thighs for the entry wound.

“Shit, Bambi. You need to check if… ah fuck.” Fitzgerald threw his head back, closing his eyes in pain.

Dean had Rosen still half around his shoulder and he could not afford to drop the private. “Bambi, we need to run!” He growled, his hand on her shoulder.

“I just need to..” Her hands tore at the fabric of Fitzgerald’s pants, pulling the fabric apart.

“My balls, Bambi, are they.. ah!”

Bambi grinned amidst the downpour of shells and took a peek. “You’re fine, Fitzgerald. Everything’s where it should be.” And Fitzgerald smiled back then.

“Come on!” Dean was getting impatient.

Bambi got on her feet and hauled Fitzgerald’s arm over her shoulder to half carry him to safety. They ran for the next rendezvous point to regroup. Men checked through their weapons, looking at the familiar faces of their friends that made it to safety. Dean lowered Rosen gently to the ground, and Shurley was quick to work on the wounded.

He walked over to where Bambi was sitting, she was breathing hard, her rifle still clutched tight in her grip. Dean was so fucking delighted that she was safe that he put his hand on her shoulder in passing, squeezing for reassurance. He let go quickly though, afraid that Bambi would notice that his hands were trembling.

***

September 5th, 1944

Baker lined themselves up. Platoon by platoon. Waiting, crouching, kneeling in place for the order to move out.

It was the day of the day - or rather, night of the night. They painted their faces with camouflage cream. Hung fabric around their upper arms, as not to lose sight of each other.

La Trinité was a bitch, and it was impossible to take it by the usual methods. There were more casualties than progress in the last six days and frankly, the 116th were running out of time and most importantly, out of men. Their order was now a direct assault on the battery at La Trinité by the entire 116th regiment.

Dean couldn’t say that he was happy about it, but what could he do? They had the order of no noise and no light. So they’re waiting there, Bayonets fixed.

2nd Battalion looped around to the south, where the fortress was the weakest and Baker was going for the trench-system at the forefront.

Dean went through his platoon one last time, making sure that nothing shone and nothing rattled. He hated that they went in without helmets, but orders were orders.

They moved in the night, the moon shining above them. The night air was chilly and their breathing fogged up around their faces like a puff of smoke.

Cas moved up and down, finding platoon leaders and came to a halt before Dean. They fell into step together as Cas whispered. “When we reached our RVP, remove armbands on my command.” Dean nodded. “Keep your bayonets fixed.” Dean nodded a second time.

They were going in by squad. Dean’s platoon was taking out the sentry outposts and cutting of the German communications with the rest of the German occupied bunker. And for the first time, Dean was happy that he got one of the easier tasks.

They went in, rifle first, moving swiftly in the dim light of the moon and took out one Kraut after another, soundlessly, with only their bayonets. Dean ordered to only use ammo when absolutely needed. He hated that, though. It wasn’t a nice thing to do and it was bloody, but orders were orders. He got what he got.

Now they waited in the darkness, watching the other platoons going in the bunker and stood at attention to provide suppressive fire if needed.

They were only needed with the last push, and Dean sped along with his men, rifles pulled to their shoulders as they help taking out Kraus in the trench system.

When all was done, Dean smiled. It was intense and his knees were wobbly. It was then, after everything was said and done, that he felt how fucking tired he really was.

He found Bambi in the trenches and took a seat beside her.

“You alright?” He nudged her in the side.

“I’m still having nightmares.”

Dean was concerned, but when he saw how she looked at him with her lips pursed and her eyebrow quirked, he knew that she was trying to lighten up the mood.

“Why’s that?”

“I saw Fitzgerald’s junk.” She did a little shudder and pulled a face and it worked, Dean laughed. Fuck it felt good to laugh.

The fight was not over though. Dean sat around the trenches with Tran, Lafitte, Bambi, and Harvelle when the shelling began. They didn’t even have enough time to take out their rifles when Lafitte went down, a round hit him in his throat and the gurgling sound of him drowning on his own blood was recorded and locked in Dean’s mind forever.

Dean threw himself before Bambi and Harvelle and he ordered for them to fall back and take cover. Of course they didn’t listen. They stayed and defended their position.

It was morning when the Germans scattered around and retreated behind the treelines. Nonetheless, Castiel ordered for them to keep firing.

Dean switched to deliberate fire to slow the ammunition usage, but they were to keep going until Cas ordered them to cease fire. Dean kept going. He wanted to believe that they took La Trinité and that they would keep it.

***

September 9th, 1944

Baker was pulled off the front line after La Trinité and for the first time in what seemed to be month, Dean stood under the spray of hot water. Freaking hot water! It had been ages since he felt so fucking clean. He shaved and wished there was a barber nearby. He needed a haircut, but he’d be damned if he allowed any of his men with scissors close to his neck. He’d just have to wait until they got to a bigger city.

Dean had time to wash his clothing and finally they smelled good again. He hung out his clothing to dry as he waited for Bambi to come out of the shower. The others were having lunch and he promised her that he would be on watch as she took her sweet time in there. He couldn’t wait to grab a hot meal himself, honestly, and it was the first time since, that he felt the closest to normal with Bambi.

“Looking good, private.” He sat there, in front of the showers, penning a letter to Sam when she walked out into the landing on their floor, a towel wrapped around her whole body. “Just, you maybe want to lose that towel, just saying.” He shrugged, putting his pen to his lips and bit on it with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Fuck off.” She replied, walking into the room where they were billeted to get dressed.

“Shut up, you love me.” He called out, not caring if someone would hear them.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Lieutenant.” She called out and walked out in her combats and a black shirt, her hair was still damp.

Dean laughed. “Do you like pain in your ass, beca–”

“Shut up!” She pulled him down to her by his shirt to kiss him.

“I really meant it.” Dean smiled. “You look good. I mean, I wouldn’t mind you dressed up, but I’d take you in combats over all fancy dresses anytime.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Be still my heart.” Jamie rolled her eyes at him. “Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

Dear Sam,

I read your letter out loud to her. I thought that it was a good thing to do. You know, to let her see that I really mean it and it’s not just because we’re here in the same place, at the same time.

Thanks for your words. She says hi back! Her name’s Jamie by the way. I don’t think that I’ve told you that.

We’ve taken La Trinité, bitch! We were pulled off the first line right after. It was such a relief, to tell you the truth. There were weeks of constant fighting and at the end, I could barely hold my eyes open. I think I might have aged 20 years in one week.

Everything’s good here and dammit, I showered for real in what felt like months! Yeah, yeah. Shut it, I know what you think! I feel like I’m a human being again, so there’s that. And we’ve got hot food!

There’s not much news other than me doing good, Sam. Jamie’s good, too. She said that she’d love to meet you one day. We better make it back so I can introduce her to you, man.

We’re sitting comfortably for a couple of days until we know where they want us next. So write whenever you can, bitch! I hope you’re doing great wherever you are Sam. Take care, alright?

Lieutenant Dean Winchester

“My god, are these hot dogs?” Jamie’s eye grew wide as she stood with Dean in line, and Dean giggled at her, amused by her joy. She shot him a look. His smirk made her want to punch him straight in the face.

“Shut up, will you?” She hissed. “I was just excited!”

“Yeah, I see.” He didn’t stop grinning, and she chose to ignore him while she let them serve her two.

Dean packed four hot dogs on his tray and shrugged at her when she watched him with a raised eyebrow. They found a seat where Tran and Harvelle were still eating their food.

“Looking good, Lieutenant.” Tran said, his mouth still full and even Harvelle joined in. “Yeah, almost forgot what you look like without the frown lines and camouflage cream, sir.” They all laughed.

“Hey, and me?” She asked, feeling a little left out.

“You, too.” Dean elbowed her in the sides, winking at Tran and Harvelle.

“Yeah, of course Bambi, you look damn good. But fuck, have you notice how handsome the Lieutenant is? I mean, I’m a man and I find him quite easy on the eye.” Harvelle almost couldn’t stop babbling.

Jamie made gagging noises, and Tran snorted at that.

“Oh come on, Bambi. I’m fucking handsome and you know it.” Dean said, taking a bite and chewed with a grin on his face and there was no other thing that Jamie could do than roll her eyes at him.

“He’s a dreamboat.” Harvelle mumbled, making all the others stop doing what they were doing to stare at him. Harvelle looked up, his eyebrows raised. “Fuck, did I say that out loud?”

Dean started to laugh, throwing his head back as his whole body shook.

“Shit, I gotta find myself a broad soon, I’m going crazy being around you guys.” Harvelle stood up and balanced his tray on his hand. “You going to play later, sir?” Harvelle asked Dean and he nodded while he took a bite.

“Play what?” Jamie asked curiously.

“Basketball, Bambi. Baker is playing Dog.” Tran explained.

“Oh,”

“You can come cheer us on.” Dean said, “Wait, no. That’s actually an oder. Harvelle, get all the men together. We need the support, seeing how bad Tran is.”

The whole table broke into fits of laughter, and Jamie thought that that was how it was supposed to be. All of them together, carefree. No worries or war between them.

“Man, I’m still hungry.” She announced when she finished her two hot dogs.

“Well, get yourself some more.” Tran suggested and she looked back to the line of soldiers queuing up for food.

“Nah, too many people.” She said, but then she looked over to see Dean holding his third hot dog up. He was about to take a bite.

Jamie scooted closer to Dean, standing up a little and licked at the hot dog in Dean’s hand.

“What the fuck was that for?” Dean exclaimed, raising one eyebrow and Tran had a hard time holding in his laughter.

She grinned at Dean, flashing her teeth. “I licked it so it’ts mine, sir.”

That’s when Tran broke down, laughing and spraying his food onto the table.

Dean, unfazed, took a bite of the licked hot dog and began to chew. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, if you lick something, it’s yours. That’s how we handled things in my family, sir.”

Dean took another bite before he spoke with his cheeks full of food. “So, you wanna say if I licked something, that it’s mine?”

She started to blush at that. “Well, never mind, sir.”

“Nah, joking, here.” Dean broke off his hot dog and gave half of it to her but a grin bright on his face.

***

Jamie sat on the steps, cheering on her company, and she couldn’t take her eyes off Dean. He was running around and sweating and he was laughing. She’d like to stay like that forever, if possible, but she knew that it wouldn’t last. It never would. The war was not over, and she’d be assigned to another platoon soon if Castiel didn’t change his mind.

The ball rolled out of court and came to a halt at her feet. Dean ran toward her to retrieve it and when he bent down, she could see him wink at her, the droplets of sweat running down the side of his face. His freckles stood out in the glimmering light of the dusk.

Baker won. Of course they would, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Jamie was about to retreat with her platoon when Dean ran up to her and grabbed at her arm, making her turn around on her heels. “After dinner. You and me.” He was gone again before she could utter a word.

***

Dean had a briefing and couldn’t join them for dinner, nonetheless she was having a good laugh with good company in the form of her second family - her platoon.

She walked out of the mess hall when Dean and Gabriel walked in and they stood in line.

He nudged her arm on her way out. “I’ll be quick.” He said, before he stood back in the fast moving line. Jamie didn’t know what he wanted for her to do.

She waited outside, sitting on the pavement when Dean hurried out, still chewing his last bite.

“You didn’t have to wolf everything down, you know.” She teased him, and he swallowed the last remaining bite in his mouth.

“Didn’t want you to wait too long.” He replied and then he pointed his chin to the empty streets. “Come on, let’s take a walk. I have to be at another meeting at Twenty-three-hundred.”

Jamie looked at her watch. It’s almost 3 hours until Dean had to be somewhere. It was probably the most time they ever had.

Dean hurried along the street and Jamie had to jog to keep up with him. Falling into swift step as he hummed a melody. Someone was really happy, she thought and she almost missed the stop, because she couldn’t stop smiling to herself. Dean stood in front of a door and she kept on walking until she heard him whistle out to her.

“Where you doing? You having another date I don’t know about?” He hissed, a lopsided grin on his face as he put the key into the lock, still chuckling to himself.

“Well, in my defense. You didn’t tell me where we’re going.”

She stood beside him when he pushed the door in, it was dark, but she could make out crates of various sizes littering the room. He pushed the door close again and locked it, leaving the key hanging.

He took her hand in his and guided her to the back room. Dean knew his place around, so she guessed that he’d been there before, maybe even more than once. “Come on.”

Dean pushed the door of the back room closed with his boots while he attacked her face, his hand coming up to cup her cheeks. He kissed her like he meant it. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling it loose from his combats before she slipped her hand under it, making Dean shudder at the feeling of her cold finger caressing his body. “Fuck, cold!” He groaned into he kiss and she laughed, before she ran her palm across his body, feeling hot skin and muscle underneath. Her fingers grazed his nipples, making Dean hitch his breathing and moaned into her mouth. She loved that. Loved that he was so sensitive there.

Her fingers swiftly unbuckled his belt before she moved her palm further down, stroking his hardness through his combats, and Dean grinned into the kiss.

“Are you packing or are you just happy to see me, Lieutenant?” She asked with a naughty smirk and Dean chuckled before he breathed against her lips.

“You know, alright.” His hand still cupping her cheeks and he kissed her again, bruisingly.

Jamie’s hand pulled down his zipper and she shimmied Dean from his pants and underwear before she fits his cock in her hand, making him hold his breath. She kissed him one last time before she lowered herself down. She’d always been curious of how he tasted, and she couldn’t wait to finally find out.

Dean wanted to stop her, maybe because he didn’t know if he could last. There was nothing he could do, she was already on her knees, and when he opened his mouth to protest, no words came out. She took his cock in both her hands, holding it up so she could lick at his head.

Dean’s rolled his head back at the first touch of her wet tongue, hitting the door hard. “Shit.”

She laughed at that, breathing hot air against the slick patch of flesh.

His cock felt heavy in her grip. The scent of pre cum lingered in the air, and she breathed it in before she sucked at the tip of his cock. She let her tongue trail along his shaft, playing with the string underneath the cock’s head, and Dean mumbled something incoherent that sounded a lot like fucking stop teasing.

Jamie laughed before she took him in again, taking him as far as she could, and Dean banged the back of his head against the door for a second time with a “Fuck” that rolled off his tongue in a huffed moan.

He looked down to her then, and she met his eyes. His hand found the top of her head, but he wasn’t pushing, nor pulling, he just left it there as he watched her. His hips coming up to meet her mouth, fucking slowly into it. She took him further until the tip of his cock tickled the back of her throat and she started to gag.

Dean impatiently pulled her up by her arm then, lifting her up, his cock slipping from her lips. He walked her to table in the back of the room and sat her on it as he kissed her hungrily, not shy of tasting himself on her tongue.

He didn’t stop kissing her when he untangled her boots and took them off. He didn’t stop kissing her when his hands fumbled at the button of her pants. He only stopped kissing her to push her down to lie on her back whilst he took off her combat pants and underwear.

Dean was on his knees, the table the right height as he spread kisses along her inner thighs. Jamie rested one of her feet on his shoulder as he kissed his way further, but he’s not kissing her there just yet. Dean was teasing, kissing and biting her thighs and her outer lips.

She propped herself on her elbow, looking at him. She was met by his green eyes and the crinkles around them. “You’re an asshole.” She said, and as soon as the words left her lips, Dean licked a strip through her middle, parting her folds with his tongue. She bit back a moan while she whispered. “Fucking tease.”

“I learned it from the best.” Dean chuckled, before he sucked at her clit. He pushed a finger inside of her, and she was almost a goner.

“Fuck.” She breathed out, her hand fisting in his hair.

“Language, private!” Dean scolded with a smile before he sealed his lips back around her clit, sucking and humming a melody at the same time while he fucked her with two of his fingers.

“Ah, shit.” Jamie felt a surge of electricity, starting in her gut, and then down her legs, making them tremble and quiver as a wave of orgasm washed over her, fogging her mind for a solid minute.

Dean stopped his ministration and looked up at her, very pleased with himself. The tip of his freckled nose shiny with her slick and juice.

He got up again then, bending over her as he kissed up her throat. He capture her mouth with his, and she tasted herself and her on the tip of his tongue.

“We still don’t have protection.” Dean said, matter of factly, and Jamie was seriously past caring.

She had her hand between them, and grabbed at his dick in her fist, before she squeezed it gently. He yelped out into her mouth, and she guided his cock to her entrance. Dean took the hint, pushing himself forward and watched, as her pussy took him in, inch by inch.

When he was sheathed inside, he bent his upper body down, kissing her hungrily as he moved his hips, fucking into her in a slow, sensual pace.

Dean breathed hard, his teeth biting into her bottom lip before he sealed his lips around it, sucking it in, soothing away the pain that he caused.

“Shit,” he exclaimed, “I won’t fucking last.”

She giggled at that, making him kiss her harder, swallowing the sounds she made. Dean increased his pace, thrusting into her harder and harder as she sank her fingers into his back, scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck, Bambi,” He pulled out with an animalistic groan, spilling his cum onto the floor as he slammed his head back and squeezed his eyes shut.

She watched him, loving how he came undone. She thought that she would never get sick of seeing his face being bathed in sweet agony.

Dean panted as he came down from his high. He smiled at her, and he pulled her up to her ass and kissed her. He tucked his softening cock back into his pants and zipped it up, before bending down to pick up her underwear and pants from the floor. He helped her into her boots and laced them for her, her foot on his knee. He took her hand and guided her out of the back room and into the front where it was less dark.

They sat with their backs against the wall as he produced a flask out of the side pocket of his combat pants and handed it to her.

“When will I be reassigned?” She asked the question that she didn’t dare to ask as she unscrewed the flask.

“I don’t know. Cas wants to see me this evening. Said he had to talk to me in private. I will ask him then.”

He spread his arm, letting her nudge her head closer to him as she handed him back the flask after taking a sip. Dean took one too, before he settled the flask down. He put his face on the back of her head, inhaling deeply before he spoke into the crown of her hair. “Wish we didn’t have to hide all the time.”

“Me too.” She whispered, and then she shifted herself, sitting up straight and looking at Dean. His hair needed cutting, pieces were falling into his face. He slicked it back nowadays, but when it was all dry again, it pointed out everywhere. She thought it was cute, but he wouldn’t wanna hear that.

“Sent Sam a letter,” He started to mutter as he kissed her cheek. “Thanked him.”

“Good. I like Sam.” She smiled and nudge her nose along his.

“Yeah?”

“He’s the more handsome brother.” She giggled while Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah well, he’s taken.”

“You too.” She nudge her head under his arm, making him spread it and pull her into a hug, her fingers trail along his biceps.

“Me too.” He repeated, kissing the crown of her head and rested his face there before he mumbled against her hair. “I’m yours.”

CHAPTER 13

[phantomwarrior12]

To Be Human

Prompt: To Be Human by Sia

Word Count: 1,961

Summary: He’s alive, but human. What does it mean to be like his Father’s creations?

Warnings: Mild swearing, angst, a lot of pain

A/N: Hey folks!

I haven’t done one yet, so here’s a human!Gabriel fic. :)

Leave a like/comment and let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

~ Phantom

----------

To be human is to love

Even when it gets too much

We're not ready to give up

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He's stumbling and cursing and it's no use. He isn't fast enough, he can't get there quick enough.

Instead, the former archangel is thrown to the ground, explosion cracking, blood pounding, heart racing. He looks up and you've braced yourself against the cabinet, shielding your head from the splinters hurtling through the air.

He screams your name but it's lost in the cacophony when a second explosion erupts to his left.

Somehow he registers your command to get down and cover his head, somehow he doesn't see you scramble to your feet and tear through the rubble towards their assailant. Somehow, when he next lifts his head, you're at his side with a kind smile and an outstretched hand.

"You okay?"

He can barely register the sound of your voice, disoriented and lost beneath the ringing residue in his ears. He can offer little more than a nod, slowly shifting to a seated position.

"What was that?"

"A werewolf with a loaded armory."

"I guess you don't see that very often." It's a nervous chuckle, something to give him time to process, to calm the storm within.

"No, not usually." You stand, casting a glance towards the door before settling y/e/c on Gabriel, "can you stand?"

His nod is shaky, but he manages to accept the hand outstretched and hoists himself to his feet. Muscles tense and tendons scream as he struggles to get his bearings.

Humanity--how in his Father's name had they learned to cope with distress. Everything seems to be in slow motion as legs cave and suddenly he's collapsing back to the floor. Were it not for your arm looped around his waist and a solid stance, knees would have met cement long ago.

When whiskey finally settles on your features, he offers a weak smile, "Sorry, I--"

"--it's okay. Just focus on staying on your feet. Let's get you to the car and get out of here. It's gonna be all right."

A brief nod and the two of you begin your trek out to your car, a journey that takes far longer than what the archangel would like.

He's human, a mortal doomed to the same state of existence as his father's creations. When he was resurrected by his nephew, he never imagined returning graceless, at least, powerless for the foreseeable future.

Castiel assures him his grace will replenish, but it could be months or millenia before he returns to full strength.

Now he's left at the mercy of monsters, demons and cranky Winchesters alike. His only saving grace is you and the warmth you provide in his dreary existence.

You don't know how he feels, you've never known. He promised himself when he woke up in the Empty that he would tell you as soon as he got back. He hasn't--he can't. Not yet. He isn't ready and your answer is what scares him the most.

And now, with your body pressed so close to his, he wards off as many human hormonal reactions as he can.

He's lost in his thoughts as the engine roars to life and when glazed hazel finally find their way upwards, you're parking the car just outside the bunker.

"Are you okay to walk?" You question, quietly gauging the intensity in which his eyes are locked on the windshield.

He blinks once. Twice. A third time before honey settles on you and he can breathe again. "Yeah, might need some help with the stairs though. You know, the excessive death hazards that they are."

He tries, dear Father, does he try to offer a reassuring smile, but the upwards twitch of his lips seem more like a grimace to your seasoned eyes.

"Right, well, let me help you out of the car. You've probably stiffened up."

"No, it's fine--" the former archangel opens the car door and attempts to swing his feet out, only to find every muscle, every tendon in his legs protests any sort of movement.

There's an exasperated sigh before he turns with a sheepish grin towards your skeptical expression, "I think I could use some help."

"Hang on, feathers." You snort, climbing out of the driver's seat and starting towards the passenger's side.

Your fingers curl around his and he's tugged unceremoniously to his feet, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steady uncertain legs.

"Take it slow. Your very mortal body isn't used to being thrown around." You secure an arm around his waist and kick the car door closed.

"And yours is?"

You pause, seemingly considering his query before smirking and nodding, "Yep."

"How?"

"We don't have fancy grace to heal our every cut and bruise. Our bodies adapt, recover and  become stronger. One of the perks of being human, feathers."

Gabriel snorts indelicately but offers little response beyond turning his eyes downcast to focus on walking on what you had informed him was probably a torn ligament.

It isn't until the two of you reach the bottom of the stairs--a feat that took close to thirty minutes--that Gabriel asks the inevitable question: "When's Cas getting back?"

"Tomorrow night. The boys just texted to tell me they wrapped up the case and are spending the night. Personally, I think they just want to take Jack to the amusement park in the morning."

"The place is what? Seven hours away?"

"Yep." You nod, tossing your gear onto the table and turning to face the pouting archangel. "Cas'll patch you up when he gets back. For now, let's get you off that leg and ice it up."

"I'd rather not--"

"Gabriel." Your tone left little room for argument, "I've been human a hell of a lot longer than you have. So, get your ass out of that chair and let's get you to your bedroom."

"Y/N, come on. I can wait here for Castiel."

"He's not coming home until late tomorrow night. You really want to wait more than 24 hours in that chair?" You gesture to the dated wood, the chair already causing painful jolts to run up Gabriel's bruised spine.

"Fine." He holds his hand out reluctantly, a gesture accompanied by an eye roll.

"On your feet, feathers." There's a triumphant smile and every ounce of contempt melts away from the former Messenger of God when his body collides with yours. 

Y/e/c meets glistening whiskey and for a brief moment, time seems to stand still. For a brief moment, all he can feel, all he can see is the triumph's gradual reduction to what he dares suggest is adoration. For a brief moment, you're pressed flush against him and he wants nothing more than to close the short distance between you.

Sparks fly and electricity dances, fingertips laced with tension and exhilaration curl around yours. A calloused thumb brushes across the top of your hand, holding it a little tighter than absolutely necessary--as if holding you close will allow this fleeting moment to last for an eternity.

The former archangel's warm breath fans across your cheeks, his eyes baring into your very soul--as if he can still see it, vibrant and beautiful.

He isn't afraid to admit that he misses being able to see it. The very sight always assured him that you were all right, that you were strong.

Now--now he can't see and he doesn't know. He's never been good at reading emotion and with you so close, he longs for his now absent grace.

It's as if you could read his mind and offer a gentle smile, stepping to his side to swing his arm over your shoulder.

"One step at a time."

He nods slowly, eyes turn downcast in an effort to keep himself upright and moving. Each step sends a jolt up his leg, nerves scream and tendons plead, but they're moving.

By the time they reach Gabriel's room, there are tears pricking the corners of his eyes, jaw set in an effort to silence the agonized groans and grunts slipping past his throat.

He all but collapses onto the bed, biting back a growl when you help him hoist his leg onto the bed. His fists have wound around the sheets, clenching tightly for some sort of anchor with the pain singing through his skin.

He all but yelps when the pillow slides beneath his knee, your gentle hands cautiously adjusting the feathered sack.

"I'll get some ice--"

"--Y/N!" His hand snaps out and clasps around your wrist, tugging you back onto the bed.

"What is it?" For a split second, Gabriel swears he can detect a hint of terror in your voice.

"Please. Just, don't go." His grip slackens, realizing how tightly he'd gripped and how little you'd protested.

The adrenaline, the rapid pace of your heart begins to fade when you release the breath you'd been holding, "Gabe, I'm just going to grab some ice. I'll be back."

"To hell with the ice." His fingers entwine with yours, clutching your hand to his chest.

"I'm sure they'd like the ice down there--"

"--sugar." It's a broken plea. It's the first time he's uttered your nickname since he'd been back. His eyes alone beg and your heart aches as you settle closer to his trembling form.

"All right. I'm not going anywhere," you give his hand a gentle squeeze and brush a wayward lock of gold away from his brow.

His smile is soft and relieved as fingers tighten around yours, bringing them up to his lips for a quiet peck.

"Sugar, I have something that, that I should have told you a long time ago."

There are tears gathering in his eyes and he wants to wipe them away, but he doesn't dare let go of your hand. You're the only thing tethering him down, the only lifeline he has left. So, he clings a little tighter and stares down at the blankets spread across his legs as confessions fall from his lips.

"I didn't know how to say this before. I'm not even sure I know how to now," honey flickers upwards, meeting your eyes with a vulnerability you've never seen from the archangel before, "but after today--I need to say it."

"Say what, Gabriel?" Your gaze softens, subconsciously sliding closer as your eyes search his for answers that seem just out of reach.

"I love you, Y/N." He relinquishes one hand's grasp on your smaller one to gently cradle your cheek, "From the moment I met you, it's like I was drawn to you--like a beacon. All these years, all this time, I kept looking for the right time, the right way to communicate all of this."

His thumb brushes away a trailing tear, his own heart pounding in his ears, terrified of the disbelief in your glistening eyes.

"And when I woke up in the Empty, the only thing that drove me to stay awake was the thought of seeing you again, of telling you how much you mean to me. I can't show you, not like I used to, but, if you'll let me--"

He never gets to finish. Suddenly, he's pressed against the headboard and your arms are thrown around his neck. Suddenly, his lips are pressed against yours and he's holding you tighter than he's ever held anyone or anything before. Suddenly, all those years in Hell, all that time spent away from you: it's all worth it.

If he could relive a moment in his lifetime, in the thousands upon thousands of years he's walked both heaven and earth, it would be this moment. For this one moment, all is right in the world.

For this one fleeting moment, he truly understands what it is to be human.

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Wanna be here? Send me an ask/message!

Tagging:

Gabriel Squad: @thewhiterabbit42  @erisunderthemoon @stuckoutsideofthebox @nuvoleincielo @lyselkatz @high-church-of-the-holy-dick

Forevers: @heaven-hell-imagines @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting @currentlyfangirling99

[h-o-l-l-i]

Marked

Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4,770

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @assassinofmasyaf for the request, I hope you enjoy it! Requests are open!

Your heart fluttered when you saw the familiar name pop up on your phone. Dean Winchester… It wasn’t unusual for Dean to call you for help on a case from time to time, after all, you helped them navigate the foreign territory of the British Men of Letters several years ago. 

You tapped the green circle and struck conversation with the older Winchester. “Dean, need my help so soon?” You teased, “What has it been, three months since I helped you boys last?”

“Ha. Ha, Y/N. Funny. But, yes, I need you.” He said sternly, his tone hushed more than usual.

You sat up in your seat and concern washed over you, it wasn’t in character for Dean to not joke around with you. That was your thing, you both jokingly flirted with each other, you loved him and would do anything for that man, he deserved the world. “Where are you?” You asked him quickly, grabbing your keys and clicking your heels on the tile floor, leaving in a rush after just ordering your coffee.

“Massachusetts. Salem.” He said before grunting in pain.

“I’m at least a day away but I will be there, Dean. Are you and Sammy okay?” You said, roaring the engine to life and speeding off.

“Ha. Yeah, Y/N, don’t get your British in a twist. Just get here when you do…” he said before the line went dead.

Good news, he threw a joke at you but you could sense that there was something majorly wrong. You halted your car and popped the trunk. You quickly rooted around and found your book…turning it to a page that would give you insight on Dean. You trailed your finger down the ingredients needed and ransacked your bags. You read the chant and your eyes rolled back, you saw him and Sam. They were in a hotel room, nothing unusual. Your chest heaved up and down when you saw Dean clutching his arm, making your eyes return, your stomach turned.

You pushed the gas pedal hard, forcing your car down the road several over the speed limit, you called Dean again. “Dean. How did you get the mark?” You asked him bluntly.

“Wha-” he began and paused, placing you on speaker so Sam could join the conversation as well. “She knows about the mark, Sammy.”

“What? Y/N, how do you know about the mark? How did you know Dean has it?” Sam asked you, stepping closer to where Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve told you boys a lot about me, my past with the British Men of Letters and what I know. Although, there is one thing that I just have not told you boys.” you paused, “It’s not important right now, but what is important is Dean and what he’s got us into.” You paused, “I’ll fill you Winchesters in about me later, when the time comes. I’ll be there in a few hours.” You finished and ended the call, not wanting them to continue the conversation about what you hadn’t told them yet.

“How does she know, Dean?” Sam asked his bother, sipping his cheap beer.

Dean rubbed the mark, shaking his head, “I don’t know, Sammy. No one knows, except you, me and the man who transferred it to me…” his voice trailed. His arm glowed and burned making him grip the blanket that covered the bed and he gritted his teeth. “Fuck!” He exclaimed. “You find anything?” He asked his little brother who was sat back at his computer.

“Um, not really. Just some website, an urban legend almost, a Witch of Light. But, it can’t be real…” he said, “You good?”

Dean nodded his head, “Well, are you just going to leave me here wondering or are you just going to tell me what the hell you found!” Dean snapped at him making his arm burn hotter, his head flung back. He was laying on the bed on his back, he heard a woman’s distant voice and images flashed in his mind.

“Dean, I’m coming. She’s going to kill me, you can’t let her…You can’t let her, Dean. She’s going to take you away from me. You have to get rid of her so she can’t hurt us…” the Darkness’ voice echoed in his head.

“No!” He shouted back.

“Dean!” His eyes gazed at his brother who was convulsing and speaking to no one, “Hey. Hey! Dean!”

“But you have to Dean, it is the only way to be free…” Amara claimed, Dean seeing her hand reach up to this face. He was in his head, she was in his head…

“I won’t kill her, I can’t. I love her!” Dean spat at the Darkness, pissing her off, releasing Dean from inside his head. Dean was once again in control of his body and thoughts, he looked at Sam who was struck with panic and staring at him.

“Are you okay, Dean?” He nodded, “What the hell was that?” Dean said nothing, not knowing for sure what it was for himself,  he just pointed to Sam’s computer, he turned to follow his brother’s finger.

“Uh, right, Dean. But we are going to talk about this later… This just says that it can be transferred to another person…” he paused, taking a deep breath.

“But.” Dean said. 

“But, there is some powerful magic that needs to be done…something we can’t do. But, there has to be something Dean. When she gets here, I’m sure Y/N will know something or someone that will help, she’s smart.” He closed his laptop,  “Should we call Cas and see what he knows about this?” Sam questioned.

“No, absolutely not! Cas has enough to worry about!” He said short, “Y/N, she can help, I know she can. She has too.” He looked at Sam, his eyes torn, he was scared of what he might do. Sam knew his brother well and had seen that look in his older brother’s eyes before.

“Dean?” Sam asked, sitting next to his brother on the bed. “You haven’t hurt me and you won’t hurt her.” He said softly, “You love Y/N. You wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.” He finished, standing up.

“How do you know?” Dean asked.

“How do I know that you love her?” He smiled, bumping Dean’s shoulder playfully.

Dean’s cheeks blushed and shook his head, he didn’t want to accept the fact that he has fallen for you. You were in the life too, you knew love doesn’t last. “How do you know that I won’t hurt her?” He lowered his head in defeat, succumbing to his thoughts.

“Because, Dean. You love her.” Sam replied, his phone vibrated, your phone number on his screen, “Speaking of…” He answered, “Hey, Y/N!” He tried his best to be nonchalant and act like everything was fine, when you all knew that it wasn’t.

“Sam, do you have the room warded?”

“No…should we?” Sam asked you, his confusion thick in his voice, making Dean’s attention to be turned to Sam.

“The sooner the better, Sam. I’m sending them to you now.” You clicked the phone, sending the photos to him. “Get them okay?”

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen them before, Y/N what are they?” He asked you, looking at them.

“Just put them up, Sammy.” Once again you clicked the phone and you were gone.

“Cas, I need you. It’s Dean, he’s in a lot of trouble and I could use a lift…” you waited…nothing. “Shit, come on! Castiel, I never ask anything from you, plea-” you were startled by the sudden appearance of a cloaked man where a blue tie.

“Hello, Y/N.” Cas greeted you.

“Dean is in trouble, I can help him. He’s in-”

Before you finished your sentence you were standing in front of their motel door, bag in hand. You knocked and waited for an answer. Soon the door opened and Sam was shocked, “Y/N! I thought you said you were at least a day out…how?” He said as you briskly walked past him and toward Dean.

Dean stood up and took you into his body hugging you tightly, “I’m so happy to see you, Y/N.” He reluctantly released you and you started unpacking your bag.

“Good to see you too guys. Let’s get this show on the road then shall we?” You said setting up your station, the men looked at you in shock. This is what you hadn’t told them.

“You’re a witch?” Dean asked you surprised.

You nodded your head, “I am. But, a good one. Not natural born but, I have power. Enough to get that nightmare off of you.” You said as you eyes traveled over his toned arms.

“How come you never told us, Y/N.” Sam asked and Dean asked “Wait, how did you get here so fast, you were a day out you said…”

“I never told you because this isn’t who I am, I haven’t done this in a long time. I only do when necessary, in this case it is very necessary. I’m afraid it’s the only way that Dean is going to make it out alive.” You paused, giving it to them straight, they were shocked but they didn’t protest, “Cas, that’s how I got here so fast, I told him that I could handle this, I just needed a little lift.” You said rolling up your sleeves and then doing the same to Dean’s.

“How?” Dean asked looking deep into your eyes, “If you aren’t natural born Y/N…”

“I was young and did some things that I shouldn’t have. I eventually wanted out and I couldn’t so, I use what I have for good.” You said adding some liquid into your bowl.

“How much time do you have left?” Sam asked, crossing his arms.

“Until I die naturally or from the life. I might have been young, Sam, but I was never stupid. Loop holes, pissed a few wankers off but her I am. Witch of Light and all.” You said letting your smile shine before you added a dash of herbs making the bowl burst into a brief flame. Sam locked eyes with Dean when you stated your title.

“So, just how powerful are you then?” Sam inquired.

“Enough to help you boys out. I’m afraid I might be one of the only ones able to help…” you replied pouring the contents of the bowl into two cups, “Drink.” You said giving Dean a cup and taking one in your hands. You shot it down with ease, waiting for the second that Dean did too.

“What is in here,Y/N. What is this going to do?” Dean questioned.

“Helping you, Love. Don’t worry it smells worse than it tastes.” You replied, tears beginning to form in your eyes, knowing what you were about to do. Your hand connected with his forearm the second you saw his Adam’s apple move and the liquid was gone.

You looked deep into his eyes, tears began to fall out onto you cheeks. The connection between you two began to glow, bright white. Dean realizing what you were doing. Sam watched, his confusion morphing to panic. “Y/N!”

“Y/N, no!” He yelled and tried desperately to separate you from him, but it was too late, the damage was done.

“It was the only way Dean.” You smiled, looking down at your arm that was now marked.

“What the hell did you just do, Y/N!” Dean’s voice boomed and his eyes never left yours.

“We can figure this out guys. There has to be something we can do, something else, not this!” Sam exclaimed, staring at you, eyes pleading with you.

“I’m afraid not Sammy.” You said, a single tear rolled down your face, “I did this because I love you, Dean. This is the only way that you could live. Be free of this…” you finished, he stared back at you with tear filled eyes and then you vanished.

Dean yelled out in agony, emotions mixing, not knowing what to feel he threw the lamp from the bed side table. Sam watched on, allowing Dean to feel that for a moment, he knew he had to. Dean’s back hit the wall and he slid down the wall, placing his face in his hands, his shoulders began to shake.

Sam took a place next to him, quietly. They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Sam spoke up, “We will find a way, Dean.” He said quietly, his voice shaking a little. “All these years, she helped us. Now it’s our turn to help her.” He placed his arm around his older brother’s shoulders squeezing him slightly, trying to comfort him.

That night neither one of the Winchester brothers slept. Dean found the nearest bar and Sam found the nearest book. They always found comfort in the polar opposites.

Your heels landed on the road, you got out of your car and walked into your home. You began to ward the rooms, shielding yourself from the world. You clenched your right fist and you looked down at the glowing mark on you arm.

Sam read endlessly for months and months, finding nothing that would help you. It took Dean a couple of days until he was ready to join his brother in attempt to find a loophole to help you, the way you always helped them. “It’s been five months, Sam. It’s no use, we won’t find anything!” Dean slammed a book shut and stormed off.

“Dean!” He called after him, then following him into the kitchen of the bunker, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” He responded shortly.

“You’ve been going ‘out’ a lot Dean. You think this is going to help Y/N?” Sam spat out in frustration.

Dean gritted his teeth and got in Sam’s face, “Don’t, Sam. You don’t understand.” He poked his younger brother’s chest.

“She has the mark, Dean. I never had it so no, I don’t understand. But I know there has to be a way to help her. I’m not giving up!” Sam spun around yelling at Dean who was leaving.

“What kind of a man are you? Letting her take this from you, from us?” The woman’s voice echoed in Dean’s head, his spun his attention around the empty bar trying to find who was talking to him.

“You alright, buddy? Need me to call you a cab?” The bartender asked Dean.

He shook his head and walked outside, when he stepped through the doorway but he wasn’t outside. He was inside his head, with the darkness, Amara.

“You are killing her Dean. She will kill me, then she will die. That mark will kill her.” She paused, her hair blowed in the wind, “You killed her.” Her eyes pierced into his.

“Stop it!” He yelled, closing his eyes. When he opened them up again and he was outside the bar and the bouncer was staring at him intently.

“You okay, bro?” He approached him, Dean was drunk, heartbroken and angry. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, bro.” He smugly imitated, then began punching him, letting his frustration out. The cops were called shortly after he threw the first blow and Dean was in the back of the police car.

On the drive to the police station Amara came back, this time she was sitting next to Dean. “Are you not going to try to save her Dean? I thought you loved her…”

“I do love her!” He yelled, the officer driving the car eyed him through the rear view mirror, “And I never wanted this! I didn’t know what she was doing, if.” He paused, “If I knew what she was going to do, I would have stopped her.” He said defeatedly.

“Keep it down back there, guy.” The officer said.

“Oh you stopped her alright, you killed her, Dean.” Amara teased and then disappeared.

“No!” He shouted again.

“Dean, stop shouting, Love. This mark is going to stop the darkness then it will stop me, consume me.” The officer’s body was replaced with yours, Dean looked at your eyes in the mirror, he watched them turn from Y/E/C to a flash of obsidian black.

“Goddamn it! Stop! Please, just stop it!” He said, his voice shook with every word he said. He looked back up and it was back to normal. It was the police officer again, he looked at Dean again and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Relax, bud. You can sleep it off in the cell then we will go over the charges when you’ve sobered up.” He finished.

Your phone buzzed, it was the younger Winchester. You contemplated answering the call. You had barely spoke to either one of them since you last saw them, five months ago. This time somehow you felt something off. You decided to answer the call, “Sam.” You paused, feeling your forearm burst into flames, you gritted your teeth, fighting the urges the mark gave you.

“Y/N, wow! You answered! How are you?” He asked out of breath.

“Well. And you?”

“Could be better. Have you heard from Dean? He left a couple of hours ago, he’s not answering any of his phones. He hasn’t been doing exactly well since…” he trailed.

“No, I haven’t. But I can find him, I’ll let you know, Sammy.” You ended the call and walked over to your bowl and worked your magic…literally. You saw Dean, laying down on the bunk inside a holding cell. You shook your head and backed out a little farther, seeing where he was. Instead of calling Sam to go fetch his brother you did. 

You pulled your skirt down and your heels echoed in the hallway. “How can I help you, miss…” the old deputy responded to your presence.

You flashed your false badge and claimed, “You’re holding a man that I have a special interest in. I have orders to take him to a classified location.” 

“Well, I’m going to need to know where you are taking him, Lady. I just can’t release a prisoner to you just because you have some fancy badge.” 

You tightened your jaw, “Well I’ll gladly tell my supervisor why I was unable to get this man in custody because of some backwood hillbilly.” You said sternly, making sure that your arm was covered as your arm began to glow, anger growing inside of you. He looked at shocked and opened his mouth to speak but you did instead, “Don’t. Just get me what I want and nothing has to happen. By the looks of you, you haven’t done any paperwork yet so just, release him to me and I’ll take care of it all.”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s just back here.” He grabbed the key and walked you over to Dean, unlocking the door. The noise of the steel door slamming open woke Dean up. He groggily sat up and wiped his eyes and then saw you. He stared at you. “Y/N. Is that really you?” He whispered. 

You nodded slightly and smiled, “Hello, Dean.” You walked into his cell, “Come on let’s go, Sammy’s worried.” You clicked your heels over to him, linking your arm in his.

“Of course he is, when isn’t he.” He said, voice hurting in his throat.

Inside the car on the way back to the bunker Dean tried to talk to you but you wouldn’t let him, you just constantly said “Don’t do this Dean.” Then as he continued it was shortened to just “Don’t.” You pulled your car into the garage of the bunker and not long after Sam was running into the room.

“Y/N? You found him?” He said pulling you into his large frame, he put you at arms length, looking you over, “How are you? The mark…”

“Fine, Sam. I’ve got it handled. He was in a holding cell, now he’s not.” You peeled away from him. “I have a plan, about the darkness.” You said before walking into the hallway of the bunker, the brothers followed you.

“You reek, get a shower and some sleep, Dean.” Sam said to Dean after giving him a brotherly hug. Dean just scoffed and followed you.

“I’m going to start off by saying that I’m going to do this no matter what you two boys say. I have to it’s the only way, so don’t try any of that bloody Winchester shit. Sam, no puppy dog eyes.” You took a deep breath, “Amara and I are tied. Since I removed it from you Dean, I am now marked. That’s why I have to do this, not you, not Sam, not Cas. Me.”

Dean opened his mouth to intervene but you shut it down immediately, “On with it then, keep it short and simple. I’m going to meet with her, use my magic to defend myself. Hopefully it will be enough and my light overpowers her darkness. When the day comes, we will know.” You sternly stated.

Both of the Winchesters in unison argued with you, “Hell no, Y/N!”

“There has to be another way, Y/N. Amara has been around way longer than you and your magic. You’ll die.” Sam gave you the eyes, filled with sadness.

“No, it’s not up for discussion boys, it is happening.”

“We need you here, to help us Y/N. We can find another way, it doesn’t have to be like this. This can’t be it.” Sam bowed his head, tears welling in his round eyes.

“It should be me. Y/N. ou shouldn’t have taken the mark from me, damn it!” Dean yelled, his voice boomed. His body was on yours, you lowered your eyes, not wanting to see the intense pain and anger he was feeling towards you.

“I’m afraid it’s too late…” you whispered and disappeared.

“Damn it! Y/N!” Dean shouted, tears rolled down his cheeks into his trimmed beard. Sam gathered his thoughts in silence, accepting what you were going to do in attempt to save the world from the darkness. Meanwhile, Dean let out his frustration and agony out by screaming and throwing things, crashing them into the wall, sending the shattered pieces to the ground, much like his heart.

“Cas, please. Y/N. She needs all the help she can get, please, there has to be something we can do…” Dean prayed, sitting on the edge of his bed. Some shuffling followed a small gust of wind and Cas was in his room.

“Dean.” Cas said, Dean stood up swiftly. “There is nothing that we can do. She is the one who is marked. Only the marked can harbor enough power to face Amara.” He paused, “I-I have to go, Dean.” and within a blink of an eye Dean was alone again.

“Amara!” You shouted into the emptiness, walking into the unknown. The sun was fading fast, the darkness was winning. Dean and Sam watched from the bunker, both numbing themselves with drink.

You said a short chant and felt your arm burn hotter than you had ever felt. Amara stepped forward into your sight. 

“Y/N. I wasn’t expecting you.” She teased. You stepped closer to her, power radiating off of your body, “I can feel you. Your power. You are much stronger than what I thought you would be. Good for you.”

“Are you going to fight like a woman or just talk like one?” You spat at her, the mark fueling your speech, heart pounding in your chest. 

Her eyebrows raised and she slowly walked closer to you, “Even with the mark, you aren’t powerful enough to defeat me and undo what my brother has done to me. It’s not enough.”

“Not to put salt in the wound, Love. But, he had to and you know that.” Your eyes never left her. You balled your fists and then began chanting, lightening bolts burst through the sky ripping into Amara, leaving her disoriented and stumbling. 

That was your best shot, it didn’t do her in though. You began chanting again but you were tossed across the way through the brick building. “You think that he even cares, Y/N. Is that why you are here, it should have been my brother! That is who I want!” She yelled and rained down on you. You were lying on a grass strip, the sun was fading and so were you.

Amara walked up to you, standing to your head, she snorted, “He doesn’t care, that is why I am doing this. I want to destroy everything that he loves. Everything he created.” Her attention was drawn to a ray of light that was suddenly replaced with a man.

Dean and Sam saw the light was almost gone, knowing that you weren’t far behind. Dean downed the rest of the liquid inside the glass bottle, burning his throat. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying, “I loved her Sammy. And now she’s gone because of me.” He rubbed his eyes dry of the tears that threatened to moisten his cheeks yet again.

“I know, Dean. We all did. She’s a hero, even if she doesn’t defeat the Darkness…” his voice lowered with every word ending in a whisper.

“I do care, Amara. I never meant to hurt you, please. I am sorry, sister.” He pleaded. You faded in and out, not being completely conscious during there mending, next thing you remember is a mixture of white and black mist dispersing into the sky. 

Then you were standing in the library of the bunker, healed and surly alive. Your eyes traveled to your right forearm, you weren’t marked anymore…

You wandered the bunker, trying to find the brothers. You weren’t sure if you were alive or if this was your heaven. You turned the corner into the kitchen. You’re eyes landing on Sam bent over looking into the small fridge.

“Sam?” You cautiously whispered causing him to jump.

He spun around pulling out his gun aiming it at you, he was puzzled, “Y/N? But—” he gasped, “No, you, you’re—”  His anger grew and he gripped his pistol in his large hands.

“Sammy, it’s me, really!” You said, tears starting to flow, not knowing how it was even possible that you were alive and back with them.

“Y/N?” He said unsure and you nodded your head. You flinched a little when he doused you in holy water. “You aren’t a dem—”

“No, Sammy, it’s really me.” You wiped your face with your hands.

He pulled out his silver knife, raising it to you, “If it really is you, Y/N, then this won’t hurt.” He said, placing the blade on your bare skin where the mark would have been. “Oh my God! Y/N!” He squeezed you tight against him, you could smell the familiar Winchester scent that you grew to love and find so much comfort in over the years. “How? The mark, and Amara…”

“I have no idea. Chuck I guess…” you remembered.

Dean rounded the corner, rubbing his eyes from the emotion of last night, crying himself to sleep. He grabbed a coffee mug, it was yours…he raised the mug to his perfect lips.

Your eyes welled with tears that escaped onto your face. He noticed that there was a woman standing next to his younger brother. He did a double take, not believing it was you, really you. “Y/N?” The mug dropped to the floor breaking into several shards, coffee pooling on the floor, “Sammy is it really h—” Sam nodded rapidly with a huge smile on his face, “Yeah, Dean.”

Dean ran to you, “Oh my God! Y/N, how?” He never let you go, just held you to him tighter, “I love you. I thought I lost you. I am so sorry, baby.” He rambled on, tears falling from his emerald eyes again. He looked at you, you were crying just as much as he was, Sam probably was too but you were too focused on the man that you loved. “Promise me that you won’t ever leave me again.” His lips pressed onto yours lovingly, they separated for a moment. He placed his forehead on yours and closed his eyes, “Promise me, Y/N.”

You nodded, “I promise, I will always be right here, with you. I love you, Dean.” 

“Promise me forever, marry me.”

You looked deep into your man’s eyes, smiling at his words then kissed him passionately, “Forever, Dean.”

[sterekloveaffairs]

Heaven-sent - Castiel

Author: sterekloveaffairs

Characters: Castiel x reader (platonic), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warnings: fluff, period talk (if that is a warning), sister!reader

Word Count: 2.211

It was one of those days. I believe many women know what I am talking about. And no, this isn’t going to be a whiny girl stuff rant, us ladies can actually handle most of the unfairness that is thrown into our faces every day, but sometimes it is just a little bit too much. I mean, I’m pretty content being a woman, even when mother nature so kindly delivers her monthly gift. It’s a bit annoying sometimes, but usually I can just do whatever I had planned, at least if I accept the nagging ache in my lower stomach. But today… no, today I couldn’t. Every once in a while, mother nature would give me an extra special heavy-duty delivery, one with immense backpain, very sensitive boobs and a face that suddenly breaks out in acne Pompeii style. One where I will not just eat food but literally inhale every edible thing that fits into my mouth, where Sam and Dean can do nothing right and where I will start crying hysterically right after cursing them to hell. And aaaaaall of this is continuously accompanied by Cramps™. Yes, with a capital C and their own freaking trademark. Because they are vicious, every woman knows them and nothing can quite compare to them. They are the Cramps among cramps, the ones that can’t be helped with a hot water bottle and that have you curled up on your bed, dizzy and nauseous with pain.

And I was having one of those days. I felt bloated and sick, and I didn’t help myself by shoving all the chocolate in my proximity in my mouth. I knew it when I woke up in the middle of the night, curled into a ball and gasping for air as the muscles in my stomach contracted. I glanced at the clock and I nearly burst into tears when I saw it was only twenty past four. For a few seconds, I was very confused by both the pain and my very emotional reaction, but then it hit me. Oh… I tried going back to sleep, but I gave up on that plan around six, knowing I’d only piss myself off even more. I went to the kitchen, the smell of coffee telling me that Sam had already returned from his morning run. I grunted when I saw that the pot was nearly empty, and I resisted the strong urge to throw the machine on the floor. My brother looked up at me, smiling like he always did.

“Good morning Y/N,” he said. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him.

“It would be if someone had left just one cup of coffee for the other people that live here.” Yes, very unfair, I know, no need to tell me that.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked and even without looking I knew he had a frown on his face.

“Just leave me alone,” I grumbled. I crossed my arms and dug my fingers into my sides, hoping I could will away the cramps by hurting them even more than they were hurting me. It didn’t work.

“Jeez, I know you’re not a morning person, but this is bad even for you. You’re worse than Dean right now.”

“Put that on a certificate for me and give me a ribbon or something,” I snapped. I decided I didn’t want coffee anymore and I turned back towards the door when I froze in my steps, seeing Dean look at me from the hallway. He was radiating that older brother authority he only used with me when he felt that I was crossing the line.

“Sis, if you’re not ready to be up, just stay in bed,” he said.

“You think I wouldn’t have done that if I could actually sleep?”

“Careful, Dean, the claws are out,” Sam said with a huff. I couldn’t deal with it. Seriously, why were they both being so damn annoying? I stomped past Dean, bumped my shoulder into his and immediately regretted it when I only hurt myself. I was so goddamn weak right now, how was it that even the slightest touch had me nearly doubling over in pain? It sucks being a woman!

“Leave me alone!” I shouted before slamming the door of my room shut behind me.

 It was only a few minutes later that there was a knock on the door. I knew it was Sam. Dean wouldn’t be as forgiving, he’d wait for me to come out and tell him what’s wrong. And Sam’s knocks were different from Dean’s.

“No!” I yelled, curled up under my blankets, my arms wrapped around my stomach and my pillow over my head. I could hear the door open, and the smell of coffee accompanied my brother’s footsteps.

“I said no,” I said softly, without moving a muscle. The pain was only barely manageable, I was afraid to move and send myself into another pain wave. I could feel Sam sit down on my bed behind me and heard him put down a cup on the night stand. He lifted the pillow and showed me the hot water bottle in his hand.

“You think I don’t know why you’re cranky? Or even up at this time for that matter.” He put the pillow aside and leaned over me to place the hot water bottle under my hands. He knew me so well. He was being so nice. And by Chuck I had been yelling at him over something stupid only minutes ago.

“I’m so sorry, Sam.” My lower lip trembled, and I felt miserable. This wasn’t me. I was never the irrational, emotional breakdown type, so I tried my best to hold in the tears that had absolutely no fucking reason to be there! I lost my composure when Sam started rubbing my back, and I turned around to my other side to burry my face in his thigh, my hands still clutching the warmth to my stomach.

“They must be really bad this time.”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Sam, they’ve never been this bad,” I sobbed. He kept on rubbing my back, and I just kept crying. The only thing I accomplished getting with that, was a headache. So yeah, great.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the fluttering of wings in the room, and I tried to stop crying. I don’t think Castiel has ever seen so much as a tear roll down my face, so this must be quite unusual for him.

“Dean told me you were here,” I heard him say, the tremble of his gruff voice sounding delightfully familiar and safe.

“Hi Cas,” Sam said while still rubbing my back, his second hand now resting on my head and petting my hair.

“Why are you upset, Y/N? Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Cas, don’t worry about it.” Sam chuckled when he heard my muffled voice.

“But-“

“I’ll explain later, Cas,” Sam interrupted him before gently pushing my head off his lap.

“I’ve got stuff to do, little one, try to sleep a bit.” He pulled my blanket a bit higher and gently escorted (read: pushed) Castiel, who was still muttering expressions of confusion, out through the door. Believe it or not, but the heat actually helped a bit, and so did the smell of the coffee. It felt cosy and familiar, and eventually I dosed off.

 It was a few hours later when I woke up to Castiel sitting on my bed.

“Jesus f- Cas!” I sat up in the bed, or at least I tried to, because when I was halfway there, I gave up thanks to a new wave of nausea flooding my body. I fell onto my side again, grabbing the hot water bottle and feeling just the tiniest bit of disappointment when I felt that it was cold.

“Hello, Y/N, I’m sorry to startle you.” He then turned towards me, gave me a curious look.

“Sam told me what’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me!”

“He also said you might still be cranky.”

“I’m not-“ I took a deep breath, and I was really trying to not eat him alive. Yes, I was still cranky, I was still in pain and now I was hungry too! “Why are you here, Cas?”

“I was fascinated. I can sense your physical pain, it’s kind of radiating throughout your soul, it feels… intense.”

“Well, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Like what?”

“It’s a figure of speech, Cas.”

“Oh.” Cas looked at his hands, then back at me and back at his hands. He was thinking. And with Castiel, that could be something really good or something really bad.

“Where does it hurt the most?” He then asked, very seriously, and I smiled when he gave me a worried look.

“Doesn’t matter, Cas, nothing you can do about it.”

“Nothing at all?” I picked up the hot water bottle and gave it to him.

“Well, if you could fill that with hot water, it should help me for about 15 minutes, 20 if I’m lucky. It won’t do much, but it’s something.” Cas took the rubber container from my hand and looked at it as if it was a hand of god.

“So heat helps?”

“It sooths muscles, so yeah, it does a little, until it cools down.” I closed my eyes in an attempt to stop my dizziness and nausea, but I opened them again when I heard Cas drop the hot water bottle on the floor. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“I thought it would be louder. And bouncier,” he then said. Right. His insatiable need to experiment and test things and see for himself. Although I admired that in him and it was usually much appreciated and refreshing, it annoyed the hell out of me right now.

“Sure, go on ahead and don’t fill it up then, I’ll just suffer here like I usually do,” I snapped. I immediately regretted it, especially when I saw the sad twinkle in his eyes. I felt as if I had kicked a golden retriever puppy…

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked sincerely.

“No, Cas, of course not,” I said, “I’m just being a complete bitch and you don’t deserve that and neither do Sam and Dean and I know that no one is doing anything but I can’t stop it I just feel like such a horrible person!” I wiped my tears away and moaned when I felt a few bumps on my cheeks. “And now I’m getting zits like a freaking thirteen-year-old and I’m dizzy and hungry and nauseous at the same time and it’s so unfair!!” Cas was obviously a bit overwhelmed with my little fit, but eventually he put his hand on my shoulder, stroking gently but his eyes still wide in shock.

“Can I try to heal you?” He then said.

“I’m not hurt, Cas, this is normal,” I scowled, “but thanks anyway. Sorry for being such a bitch to you.”

“That’s alright. A lot of animals get restless and aggressive when they’re in pain, humans are no different. I just wish I could help you.” He then looked down at the hot water bottle on the floor and seemed to remember my earlier request, “I’ll fill that up for you, the heat will help.” I curled myself up onto my side again, turning my back to Castiel.

“Don’t bother, it won’t help for long, you’ll spend more time getting it ready,” I said, completely exhausted and still more emotional than I had ever seen myself.

“But… I want to help.” I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder, but another sting of pain stopped me halfway there. I clutched my stomach, and Cas reached out his hands. They were warm, and when I looked down, I saw the faint glow that had become so familiar.

“Cas, what are you doing?”

“I’m using my grace to heat up my hands. Does it work?” Weirdly enough, it did. It was soothing, comforting, and it definitely eased the pain.

“Yeah… yeah, it does.”

“Good.” Cas leaned down on the bed, replacing his hand on my stomach and the other on my lower back. The warmth was unbelievable, and I smiled softly.

“I will stay here with you as long as you need me. I don’t want you to suffer.” With that, he put his head down behind my shoulder and whispered to me to try and sleep. He didn’t hesitate, when he sensed the cramps got worse, he increased the heat with his grace, and he kept on spooning me. I nearly started crying again, because really, how nice of a thing is that to do? Castiel may not have been human, but at the same time he was more human than anyone I had ever known. He was kind and caring, and possibly the best friend I had ever had. And he was right, when he was taking care of the pain, it wasn’t all that hard for me to doze off again. I leaned back in his embrace, the warm glow soothing my body, and right before I closed my eyes, I murmured:

“Castiel, you truly are heaven-sent.”

[webcricket]

Nudge Theory

Characters: CastielXReader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count:  3936 (Act III)

A/N: A five act mini-series. The reader and Castiel must work together to solve the curious case of the missing Winchesters. Fluff, smut, and a plot for kicks. Be warned - this act contains written erotica content. After all, the third act is nothing without a climax [or two].

Completed Series Masterlist:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/162181272535/nudge-theory-masterlist

Nudge [verb] –

·       “Coax or gently encourage someone to do something.”

“How the hell did I miss this?” Vintage yellow photo thrust ahead at arm’s length, you squinted contemptuously between it and the modern angled shining building sitting on a rolling hill previously occupied by the notorious Clifton Springs Sanatorium - everything gleamed new right down to the freshly lain vibrant green sod.

Mapping uncharted recesses of thought at an overly decorous distance to your person, coat flapping in the grass-scented breeze, Castiel thumbed through the news clippings in John Winchester’s journal, comparing them to the small local newspaper he held announcing the grand opening of the Clifton Springs Senior Center – finally complete after five arduous years of construction setbacks. Holding a fluttering piece of paper to his nose, inhaling the smudged ink, his sky blues milled in confusion, “These clippings Sam collected about the sanatorium, they’re all very old. Ten, maybe eleven years.”

“Maybe even twelve or thirteen?” You peeped sidelong at the angel, jamming the old photo and your hands into your pockets, closing the distance to his side in a few short strides, “Maybe Sam decided to take up scrapbooking. Practical hobby for a hunter really, and certainly safer on his liver in the long run than Dean’s chosen one.”

“None of this makes sense,” Cas disregarded your sarcastic snipe at the Winchesters, refiling the paper in the journal, dark curls tickling his forehead in an errant gust of wind.

The more the angel ignored your efforts at teasing and prodding him out of his shell the more you felt inclined, obligated even, hell-bent one might say, to persist in re-establishing the flirtatious rapport you somehow lost in a random cornfield on the side of the highway at mile marker 156. You scratched your head thoughtfully, “You know, you’re absolutely right. Now that I think about it, he’s probably more of a paper mache guy.”

Cas squinted apathetically at you, unaware you interpreted this silence as a formal declaration of war.

Deciding it best to fall back for the moment and formulate a new line of attack, you shifted your concentration back to the case. “I hate small towns,” sighing, shrugging, lips thrumming as you exhaled, “news travels like lightening inside them, and at a snail’s pace out. But just because the sanatorium is history, doesn’t mean the curse, haunting, or whatever is scheduled to start killing people around here tomorrow is gone too.”

“Dear, why don’t you ask this sweet young couple for help,” a meek voice quivered behind your backs.

You and the angel turned around to find the source, discovering a deeply-lined frail woman in a wheelchair wringing her hands over and over and a hunchback pink-faced man panting and clutching knobby fingers at the handles of the chair.

“Hate to bother you,” the man wheezed, gesturing up toward the senior center, “but I’m afraid this incline has got the better of me. Old legs, old lungs, you know.”

“Oh, we’re not a…” You ceased your protest when Cas abruptly tossed the journal in your direction.

“Of course, allow me,” the angel smiled politely, assuming the elderly man’s place behind the wheelchair to relieve his burden, maneuvering up the walkway toward the center entrance.

“Thanks son,” the man waved him off, fissured countenance beaming when he faced you, “fine young man you have there.”

You accepted the man’s chivalrously proffered elbow, crooking your arm through his and shuffling forward up the hill. Your attention settled on the angel’s square shoulders as he walked several paces ahead, “And how can you tell?”

“Former army man I reckon,” the fellow spoke with an air of authority on the matter, “I can always spot a soldier. Ready to leap into action. Yes, indeed, fine young man you have.”

“You’re quite the keen observer,” you gave his arm a gentle squeeze, “mister?”

“Mr. Kinlay, Al,” he filled in the blank, pointing ahead, “my wife Marge. Sixty-two years we’ve been married.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet you both. I’m Y/N, and that fine young man you’ve so astutely identified is Castiel,” you couldn’t help but savor the feel of the angel’s name on your tongue.

“And how long have you two been together?” Mr. Kinlay innocently inquired.

The subtle rigidity hitching the angel’s gait informed you he could hear every word you exchanged with the old man - you decided to toy with him by revealing the thinly veiled truth. “Oh, it seems like we met only yesterday,” you chuckled, “I just knew he was an angel the moment I laid eyes on him.”

“Ah, young love, young love!” Mr. Kinlay bobbed his head, a nostalgic grin cracking his mouth. The center doors whined open on automatic hinges upon your approach. Mr. Kinlay excused himself from your side with a thankful pat on your hand, resuming his position behind his wife’s wheelchair, “Thank you, son. Much obliged.”

Mrs. Kinlay peered up between you and Cas, eyes twinkling beneath crepey skin as she looked the angel up and down approvingly, “He’s a dreamy one isn’t he? I remember when you were a strapping young lad like that, Al dear. And such a beautiful girl by his side.”

A rush of heat erupted across your chest, neck, and cheeks - the disremembered recollection of the erotic dream you had in the car on the drive here featuring the angel freed from seeming oblivion by the elderly woman’s words. Suddenly the whole waking up in an abandoned vehicle to find the angel in a field scenario made complete sense - he must know about the dream.

Mr. Kinlay wheeled his wife away with a parting wink, “I may not be a strapping young lad anymore, but Marge dear, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Y/N?”

You weren’t exactly a quiet dreamer according to past roommates - no wonder Cas balked when you touched him and went all business of the case. Your cheeks flushed impossibly redder.

“Y/N?” When you failed to respond to your name a second time, Cas’ fingers inquiringly touched your arm, “Is something wrong? You appear, unwell.”

You jumped, startled at the contact, heart and mind racing, somehow both losing as you barely suppressed the urge to flee, “No, uh.” Groping clumsily in your jacket pockets you produced an EMF reader, “Just thinking I should check for spirits as long as we’re here.” You bolted through the doors, mumbling, “Maybe you could ask around, see if anyone has felt cold spots, heard strange sounds, whatever. Meet back at the car in 15.”

Five minutes spent in the bathroom running cold water over your feverish face, and ten more wandering the halls fruitlessly searching for EMF spikes were enough to calm your nerves, at least the visible ones – or so you hoped. “I got nothing,” you huffed, approaching the car, striving to appear as casual as humanly possible while avoiding looking directly at the angel.

Cas leaned against the hood, arms folded across his chest, blankly staring across the parking lot. “Taking into account the poor circulation of the aged and infirmed and the tendency for hearing aids to malfunction,” he grumbled, “I got the same.”

You fished the phone from your pocket, scowling at the screen, “Nothing from Sam or Dean either.” On a whim, you scrolled through your contacts list and smashed your thumb on Dean’s smirking mug.

A nearby trash bin began to ring.

You exchanged a wide-eyed glance with the angel, immediately disconnecting and trying again.

The trash can rang ominously.

Cas strode over to the bin and wrenched off the top. Digging around, he produced a pair of discarded cell phones.

“I guess that explains why they aren’t answering,” you kicked the bin, groaning a combination of frustration and pain - the bin having been securely bolted to the cement walkway. For the moment, the pain gave you welcome distraction from your blundering sexual interest in the angel.

“It also tells us we’re on the right track,” Cas slipped the phones into his coat pocket for safekeeping.

“Right, silver lining,” your mind again wandered, wondering what else the angel had hidden in those bottomless pockets, and for that matter, under all those unnecessary layers of clothing. You mentally swatted the thought asunder, forcefully redirecting your brain to focus on the missing brothers, “Why the hell would they dump their phones?”

He narrowed his eyes, angling to read a tiny block print sign on the side of the bin, “I don’t know, but according to this town ordinance, these receptacles are required to be emptied every afternoon by 3PM.” He straightened up, gazing over at you, “That means Sam and Dean were here sometime during the past 24 hours.”

“It’s a small town, and those boys are nothing if not predictable,” a hopeful smile blossomed on your lips, “what do you say, angel? Do we check in to the kitschiest motel we can find, or grab burgers and pie at an all-night diner first?”

His nose crinkled, jaw slackening askance, uncertain if you were proposing tracking down the Winchesters based upon their well-known habits which somehow had not yet gotten them killed, or not so subtly propositioning him.

“Nevermind, let’s just go,” realizing the ambiguity of your phrasing in light of your apparent inability to control your oversexed brain, you spun on your heel, retreating to the car.

Twelve diners (in what you surmised must be a per capita ratio of 1 diner per 10 residents), one police station (the word station being quite generous for what amounted to a room smaller than most closets), and six motels (for some inexplicable reason all UFO themed) later, you found yourself sprawled face down on a bed in the last motel you’d canvased. You mumbled unintelligibly into the scratchy comforter, “I don’t understand how no one saw them. Sam is like 8 feet tall and they drive a freaking billboard advertisement for muscle cars.”

Cas sat on the opposite bed, slouched over, elbows resting on his knees, chin perched on folded hands, angelic ears managing to translate the intent of your mumbling, “Perhaps something prevented them from staying in town. Their father wasn’t exactly known for his tact and from the journal entry we know he has history here.”

You rolled over to glare at the ceiling, running your hands over your face and knotting them into your hair, “Maybe, maybe that’s why they needed backup. I don’t know Cas, it’s all so vague. All I know is we have to stay in town. If the kill cycle starts again tomorrow in spite of the sanatorium’s destruction, someone needs to be here to stop it and we’re on deck.”

“Agreed,” the angel pressed his hands to his knees and stood. Rummaging through his pockets he crossed the room to place the brothers’ phones and John Winchester’s journal on the dresser.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” you flopped from the creaky bed, shedding your jacket and toeing off your boots and socks before disappearing into the bathroom. Force of habit fostered as a lone hunter meant you didn’t bother to close the door; it simply didn’t occur to you as something to be done.

Cas began to tack up case notes and organize the spotty information you had collected regarding the 13 year cyclic deaths.

You drifted out of the bathroom after a few minutes, trailed by a cloud of steam, rivulets of water dripping from your hair and clad only in a loosely wrapped flimsy white towel which left nothing to the imagination, to search through your duffle whilst cursing under your breath about sub-par motel toiletries.

Eyes glossing over the old clippings and police reports, the angel caught sight of you in his periphery. He swallowed a low growl, unable to repress the involuntary reaction of his vessel to your exposed skin.

“Find something?” You glanced over, curious, alerted by the strange sound, triumphantly clutching lavender body wash to your bosom.

“No, um, it’s just very frustrating,” he stammered, fidgeting with a file folder and sheepishly looking everywhere but in your direction.

Quirking a bemused eyebrow, you shrugged off his odd behavior, returning to your shower.

The angel courageously endeavored not to allow his thoughts to dwell on you – naked, wet, attractive, and quite possibly thinking of him this very instant as you lathered your body. He resisted the urge to eavesdrop on your thoughts, instead valiantly reading and re-reading the gruesome autopsy details of victims, trying to dampen his arousal. The contented moaning noises you made as the hot water soothed your tense muscles making it increasingly difficult for him to do so. Overwhelmed to the point where he required retreat or relief, he dropped the case file to the dresser and made for the door.

“Where are you going?”

Your voice arrested his escape, mid-turn of the doorknob, “I, um, for a walk. To think, uh, about the case.”

“Wait up, let me get dressed. We can brainstorm,” you bent to grab clean clothes from your bag. When you glanced over at the angel to determine his response to your suggestion, he awkwardly stood sideways, fist still poised on the doorknob, shoulders rigid, staring at the dingy carpet between his feet as though he hoped it might open and swallow him whole. Eyes landing on the evident erection straining through his pants, you comprehended why he so urgently needed fresh air. Heart pounding in your throat, the change of clothes slipped forgotten from your fingers - the proverbial elephant in the room shattering any and all inhibitions you held. Drawing in a sharp breath, you embraced the route of boldness. Crossing the room, you reached out, laying a palm on his arm, speaking deliberately, “Castiel, you can go for that walk alone, or you can stay here and I can help you with your, predicament.”

He gulped hard, lust-blown pupils flitting to nervously regard you.

Edging nearer, fingers descending to suggestively tug at his belt buckle, you purred, “I think you already know what I’d prefer, angel.”

His expression darkened - seizing your waist, he pivoted and pinned your body to the door with a guttural growl, smashing chapped lips to yours.

Parting your lips, you submitted to the wanton dominance of his mouth with a moan, relishing the taste of late summer honey on his tongue. Shoving the trench coat and suit jacket over his shoulders, your fingers scrambled for purchase across the rippling muscles of his back.

His hands skimmed the curve of your hips to roughly knead your ass, lips breaking from yours to nuzzle and suck your neck, voice vibrating against your skin, “Is this what you want, human? Rough, like in your dream?” Stubble prickling delicate skin, he nipped and bruised the sensitive flesh of your pulse point.

Simpering, feigning shock, you rammed his chest with both palms, herding him backward with a dark glare until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he collapsed onto it, “Did you spy on me, angel?”

Shrinking into himself, his demeanor tempered apologetically, “I thought you were having a nightmare. I didn’t mean…”

“Shh, it’s alright,” you cooed, balancing your hands on his shoulders, straddling his thighs, settling into his lap and kissing the tip of his nose. He truly was a walking contradiction if you ever met one and you had no idea what to make of him - one moment he was a dominant, confident, virile seraph, and in the blink of an eye the uncertain, cautious, anxious, kind of pitiable, fallen angel re-emerged. You hooked a finger under his chin, lifting hooded eyes to meet yours, “Tell me, angel, did my dream excite you? Is that why you ran away?”

“Yes,” apprehension assuaged, his fingers nudged under your towel, thumbs rubbing small circles into your thighs, “and yes.”

You rocked your hips into his clothed arousal, eliciting a rumbling groan from his throat - the sinful noise inciting a rush of heat to your core.

“Y/N, wait…I,” he stuttered, higher reasoning battling carnal desire to regain composure. He firmly gripped your hips, thwarting the glorious friction you desperately sought, anxiety returning to trace his countenance.

“What’s wrong?” You studied the angel’s furrowed aspect, fingers tangling into the curls at his nape.

The line of his brow deepened, furtively meeting your questioning gaze, “I, uh, isn’t it customary for me to, um, buy you dinner first?”

An amused smile twisted up the side of your mouth, “Castiel, I don’t care what’s customary. I’ve wanted you since the moment we met. I trust what feels organic, do you understand?” Smile fading, you acknowledged the distinct possibility he didn’t feel the same, “If you don’t want this, just tell me.”

“I understand,” he relaxed his grip on your hips. Snaking warm hands up and around your back, he dislodged the towel from your torso with a small smile, “I do want this - want you. Very much.” His lips fell to pepper your collarbone with open-mouthed kisses, growling into your shower damp lavender-scented skin, he chided, “You never answered my question.”

“Hmm,” you tousled his hair, melting under his ministrations, shallowly undulating your hips as he bucked to meet your movements, “what question was that?”

“About your dream,” he lightly marked your collarbone with a nip, “how you want me to be.”

“Castiel,” hands falling to cup his cheeks, you pulled him up to your lips for a long tender kiss. Parting for air, softly gasping as you sucked and released his lower lip, your breath ghosted humid in his ear, whispering, “I want you to be you, angel.”

Your simple sentiment, a testament to the beauty contained within your soul, charged electrically through his celestial being. He grinned against your shoulder, in a fluid motion flipping you to your back and lying beside your languid figure. Gazing affectionately into your eyes, he swept a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. Pliant lips touched yours, unhurried, kissing you deep and slow and worshipfully. Burrowing his nose into your neck, he began to draw a meandering path down the center of your body, diverting to explore every divot and curve, attentively noting the locations which made you squirm with ticklish delight and those which caused you to writhe in pleasure, allowing his grace to linger tantalizingly at the latter spots as his fingers continued their keen exploration.

Eagerly anticipating his target as he inched below your navel, clenching and unclenching your thighs, you clutched at his hand, humming, “Cas, please, angel-” You encouraged him to move lower, “I need more.”

His mouth captured yours, again sweetly passionate. You shivered, moaning, as he cupped your aching sex, praising you, “Such a stunning creation, the purest soul housed within a most exquisite vessel, but so impatient.” Leaning over to lavish your breast with his tongue, swirling and sucking the hardened bud, he mercifully eased a finger into your throbbing center. Every flick of his tongue across your sensitive nipple mirrored the come hither curl of his finger - first one, and then another, and another dipping to stretch and fill you completely, igniting a fire in your abdomen. He worked your body slowly, thoroughly, until every nerve ending blazed with pleasure.

“Cas, mmm-close,” you mewled, walls tensing around his long fingers as he stoked your g-spot again and again. The tingling heat of his grace licked and engulfed your clit, setting you fully aflame, the burn of release sucking the very oxygen from your lungs, leaving you dizzied and panting.

“So beautiful when you come undone,” the angel kissed your sweat sheened temple, gradually withdrawing his grace, now cooling and comforting in its wake.

Dazed senses returning to a semblance of normalcy, you snuggled to the angel’s chest, pressing arousal swollen lips lovingly to his, shaky fingers fumbling to unbutton the crisp white dress shirt still separating you from his bare skin, “Castiel, I need you, all of you.” Buttons conquered, your fingers swiftly sank to unfasten his belt, simultaneously delving your tongue to explore his intoxicatingly honeyed mouth.

He groaned low, breath hitching when you palmed his rock hard arousal through the thin material of his boxers, wantonly grinding against your hand. Fingers needful, digging into your waist, he pushed you back to the bed, crawling to hover over your body, aspect wrecked with desire.

Gazing steadily into nearly black pupils, your thumbs looped to slip the boxers and pants down his hips in one motion, freeing his thick perfectly curved cock.

Weight collapsing onto your body, caging you within his arms, he rutted rhythmically against your dripping folds. Quietly praying, tone melodious, he kissed the salty skin of your neck - the words those of an ancient tongue, yet somehow familiar.

Untangling your arms, trailing fingers down his back, you reached between your bodies, stroking his cock and lining the tip to your entrance.

With a final choked chant, he sank into you, grunting, frame shuddering with the restraint required to still himself, allowing you to adjust to his girth.

Bending your knees to your chest to take him even deeper, you raked your nails up his back, breathlessly clutching his torso, “Angel, move.”

Every powerful thrust sent pleasure coursing through your quaking frame, surging down your thighs, curling your toes. Crossing your ankles, your heels pressed into his buttocks, altering the angle of his thrusts to hit your sweet spot. Increasingly ragged breathing, grunts, moans, and the obscenely wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the room. “Castiel,” you panted, teetering on the edge of orgasm, his name carrying the weight of your desire. “Cas-,” name catching in your throat, gripping his sweat-slick shoulders, head lolling to the bed as he dropped his head to your neck. “Cas!” Sharply gasping, urgent, tide breaking, pleasure flooded your senses, your walls pulsating around him.

Pace faltering, muscles trembling, he cried out your name. Plunging deep, cock twitching, he spilled his warm release. Rolling to his back, he cuddled you close to his chest.

Stretching an arm across his waist, a pleasure drunk grin painted your face, “Cas, that, you, you’re amazing.”

He combed his fingers lazily through your shower wet hair, a soft chuckle convulsing his chest, calmly confessing, “I’m relieved to hear you say so. The only other woman I’ve been intimate with turned out to be a reaper maliciously seeking information she wrongly thought I possessed.”

You propped up on an elbow to stare at him in disbelief, “Hold on, you’re telling me you’ve only had sex once before?”

“Well, we had intercourse multiple times that night,” he offered earnestly, “she killed me in the morning. Did you know praying mantis females kill their mates after copulating?”

“I didn’t, and Cas, I’m sorry that happened to you,” you pecked his cheek, nestling back into the crook of his arm, “guess it’s a good thing I’m not a reaper, or an insect.”

Happily sighing, Cas turned into you, winding his arms securely about you, placing a kiss on your forehead which bloomed into a blanket of warmth spreading thoughout your entire body.

Sated, sleepy, and soothed by angelic grace, you slipped into a deep slumber.

Hours later, the buzzing of a phone roused you. Or maybe it was the absence of Cas’ touch. Either way, the harsh light of a phone screen stung your dark-adjusted vision when your eyes popped open in alarm. Blinking, you could make out the slumped figure of the angel illuminated at the edge of the bed, “Cas, who is it?”

“Dean?!” The angel’s deeply concerned tenor was a contained thunder clap which sent you bolting upright.

Continue Reading Act IV - Part I:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/161489044610/nudge-theory