#warriorwithasoftheart

i love @warriorwithasoftheart ! magdalena is soooo sweet and i love how she writes dean winchester.

@warriorwithasoftheart

send  💬  for  an  angsty  starter . | @warriorwithasoftheart

There wasn't an ounce of warmth or compassion in the Seraph's borrowed face. Dusk blue eyes followed Dean's every move, but studied him like one would study a moth that found its way inside the house — wondering where those frantic wings might carry it next. The man was upset, if the heightened stress and pulse were any indication, and Castiel supposed there may have been a time when that would have bothered him. In that present moment? He felt nothing at all.

"I'm sorry, Dean." He wasn't. "I serve Heaven. Not you. My previous actions and sentiments were... misguided."

Making Demands

a prayer was received. one of desperation. final words from dean winchester, calling castiel to him. a flutter of wings brings castiel to an abandoned building. a place mostly untouched, save for the angel that had lured the winchesters here.

head tilts upon seeing his sibling, but greetings die on his tongue when he looks past and sees dean's broken body. feet take him close, kneeling beside the eldest winchester. a hand gently rests on dean's forehead, closes dean's eyes. a pang of horror. of sorrow, seeps through the heart inside of his vessel. sam is nowhere to be found, and castiel assumes he got to safety. that dean died protecting his brother.

arms wedge underneath the body, sweeping dean up effortlessly, bridal style. he'll deal with his sibling later, for now, the winchester deserves better than to rot on some floor.

"you can rest now," he promises, softly, bringing dean back to his car. to sam, who looks shell shocked. but this is not the end of dean winchester's story - not yet, castiel is sure. he had raised dean from hell in order to fulfill his task of becoming michael's vessel. castiel's grace heals wounds.

"i'll retrieve his soul from heaven," he promises. still knew to knowing the winchesters and yet already attached to them. to dean. his vessel's hands gently touch dean's face. castiel isn't sure why he feels so strongly for dean. doesn't have the wisdom to understand it yet.

@warriorwithasoftheart liked for a starter from John!

The motel room door slammed hard enough to make the wall shake. Dust rained from the smoke-stained ceiling, and the overhead light flickered like it was just as fed up as John was.

"You think this is a damn game, Dean?!" John’s voice cut through the air like a blade—sharp, raw, and far too loud for the paper-thin walls of a room that smelled like mildew and old secrets. He paced, boots heavy against the cracked linoleum floor, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. "You think you’re invincible? That charging headfirst into a goddamn nest with no backup, no plan, and no damn common sense makes you a hero?" He pointed—an accusing stab of a finger in Dean’s direction, trembling slightly from adrenaline and fury.

"You almost got yourself killed. Again. And for what? So you could play cowboy while Sam and I cleaned up the mess?" John stopped mid-stride, chest heaving, trying to rein in the fury clawing its way up his throat. For a moment, he just stared—at the blood on Dean’s shirt, the bruise forming on his jaw, the fresh gash down his arm—and the rage twisted into something that looked a hell of a lot like fear.