The Ins and Outs of Castiel

You wake late in the morning to find Crowley's side of the bed empty. Reaching over, your fingers touch cold sheets. You sit up in bed and look around, finding no sign of Crowley. Calling his name, you get no response. 

You throw back the sheets and check every inch of the hotel room for a clue as to where Crowley had gone. Finding nothing, you head into the hallway. You don't even care that you're still in your sleeping clothes and you ignore the strange looks you get from the humans in the breakfast area. 

"Crowley?" you call out, a panic you'd never felt before kicking in, "Please, Crowley, where are you?" You're on the verge of tears.

You run back up to your room and shut the door behind you, ignoring the knock from a concerned member of staff. The human knocks harder, but you continue to ignore the sound and tune into angel radio instead. 

If demons had attacked you for your part to play in the treaty, then it was possible that angels had taken Crowley from you. You listen for any hints as to where they might have taken Crowley, but before you can get any information Sam Winchester's voice floods your head.

"Y/N, if you can hear me, Dean and I need to talk to you."

Now isn't the time. If prayers worked in reverse you would've told him that. Instead, you tune him out. 

"Y/N, this is Dean," Dean's voice breaks through, "Sam and I are in the bunker and we have some questions to ask you. We've got Crowley here and he's spewing some bullshit about the two of you being-"

Before Dean can finish the prayer, you've flown yourself to the Winchester's bunker. Sam and Dean stand beside a table littered with bowls and herbs. Crowley stands nearby in the center of a devil's trap with his arms crossed, clearly irritated. 

"Crowley!" you exclaim. Running to him, you cup his face between your hands and rest your forehead against his, "I thought my siblings had taken you. Are you alright?" 

"I'm perfectly fine, Love," Crowley answers as his arms encircle your waist, "These two morons still think it's okay to summon me whenever they can't solve their own problems. Every time a demon goes running amuck, they think I'm involved." Despite his assurances, you look him over and check to make sure the Winchesters hadn't harmed him. Much to your relief, he appears to be all right.

"Do you know the panic you've just caused me?" you ask, turning on the Winchesters. They back up as you pull away from Crowley and walk closer to them. Both brothers look between you and Crowley, dumbfounded. "All you had to do was pick up a phone or pray to Castiel or me, but no. Instead, you force Crowley here, leaving me to wake up finding him missing. Anything could've happened to him while I was asleep." 

"You can sleep?" Dean asks at the same time Sam says, "It's true then?"

"I did try to tell you," Crowley sighs.

"Is what true?" you snap.

"You and Crowley are . . . married?" Sam clarifies. 

"Given the state they're in, they're obviously sleeping together," Dean comments, adding in a mutter, "Glad we didn't summon you naked"

"We aren't married in the human sense, but we did sleep together," you answer, missing Dean's true meaning.

"Um, since when?" Sam ventures.

"Today is Saturday, so we've been together since, ummm . . . mind your business, Moose," Crowley snarks. He snaps his fingers, changing both you and himself back into your normal clothing. 

"Son of a bitch! How the hell did you do that?" Dean asks. 

You look back at Crowley and then down to the devils trap he's still standing in. The chalk still makes a perfect trap with no scuffs and Crowley shouldn't be able to use his powers. Crowley hums in curiosity and takes a tentative step out of the trap. 

"I've stood here for over half an hour and I could've just walked straight out of this bloody thing?" Crowley asks, irritated. Sam and Dean look mortified. 

"How?" Sam asks, looking at you. 

"It's a long story," Crowley answers, "Y/N and I have things to do. Let's go, Love."

"You can't just leave. We still need your help," Dean demands.

"Your little chalk sidewalk scribbles can't keep me trapped any longer, Squirrel, so it appears that I can do whatever I like," Crowley retorts. Moving to your side Crowley takes your hand and prepares to snap his fingers, but you stop him. 

"We should hear what they have to say at least," you say, "Please?"

"Alright," Crowley sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "What is it then?"

"Your minions have been running around causing all sorts of problems," Sam accuses.

"How is that different from any other day?" you ask, "Demons are a constant problem." Crowley doesn't seem offended by your comment and even seems to agree.

"We captured one of them," Dean adds, "When we tortured it, it said the only angel it would ever be ruled by is Lucifer."

"It didn't make sense at the time, but now that we know you and Crowley are a thing -" Sam lets his words trail off.

"Why didn't you tell me this in the first place?" Crowley asks.

"We didn't know Y/N was the angel it was referring to," Sam says.

"If you had listened to me -" Crowley begins, but Dean cuts him off.

"So you're actually the Queen of Hell?" Dean asks, still unable to fully grasp the situation, "I thought you hated demons. What happened?"

"I am," you answer, "and I did, but things change. Some demons aren't half as bad as I was led to believe." You could've explained the treaty between Heaven and Hell, but you decide to omit that part. The less Crowley hears you speak about the treaty the better. You intertwine your fingers with Crowley's. He furrows his brow, but he seems happy to oblige you. 

"And some demons are worse," Crowley adds, "Do you still have the bastard?" 

"It's still here," Sam replies.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Crowley questions, "Where is it?"

"I thought you had better things to do," Dean comments. 

Tags: @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese,@manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd

Fic:

"Where have you been?" a tall dark haired man in a suit and thick rimmed glasses asks accusingly, "You've been gone for over a month. The Legends need you more now than ever. Ava sent me to come and look for you. I got here, couldn't find you, and I didn't know what to tell them. Honestly, I thought you were dead and - who's this?"

You've just stepped foot on an entirely different version of Earth and barely even had time to take in your surroundings. At least this new person is a minor distraction from the sadness you feel of leaving your friends and family behind.

"Y/N, Gary. Gary, Y/N," John says as way of introduction before shouldering past Gary to look at the state of his house. 

"It's nice to meet one of John's friends," you say, shifting your bag to your left hand and shaking Gary's hand with your right. 

"It's nice to meet you too. Are you Constantine's . . ." he hesitates as if he isn't sure how to finish the sentence.

"We're connected across dimensions," you answer, "Magical soulmates is the best term we've come up with so far." 

"More than just magical soulmates," John corrects, shouting from the next room.

"That’s so romantic," Gary comments whimsically, before adding, “I didn’t realize Constantine could have a soulmate.”

"Rude," John shouts, "and what else is rude is the state of my bloody house. What happened while I was gone? It looks like a vortex whirled through and tossed everything about. Y/N and I need to do some research on why we might be connected. How are we supposed to find anything in this mess?" 

"It wasn't exactly organized when I got here," Gary says, anxiousness in his voice, "and the Legends needed help researching the magical creatures they're dealing with. After everything I've gone through lately, I did my best to help them while you were gone." 

John dismisses the statement without so much as a thank you or an apology. You give Gary an apologetic look.

"Are they sure they really need me?" John asks, returning to the room with a book in hand, "I have other problems on my mind at the moment." 

"They sounded pretty stressed," Gary says.

"Is it more or less manageable than a demon unicorn?" John asks. You raise an eyebrow at his question. John had failed to tell you that story.

"They're currently dealing with a witch hunt," Gary presses nervously, rubbing his chest as if the memory of the unicorn incident had caused some discomfort.

"John, if your friends need help we should go help them," you suggest, "Our problems can wait a little longer." You hoped that was true anyway. 

"Really?" John asks, "I wanted to give you a few days to settle in before throwing you into the mess that is my life."

"I’ve already been thrown into the mess that is your life. A few days to settle in isn’t going to change anything. If I could go on a hunt, it might help me take my mind off leaving home," you shrug, "Besides, if they're dealing with a witch hunt, I'm the perfect bait." You let your fingers catch fire for effect and Gary's eyes go wide with interest. 

"I don't like the idea of using you as bait, but we'll help if you're sure," John says. He places the book on a coffee table before moving to stand in front of you. "If I really have to, I could go help them and you could rest here until you're ready to time travel."

"I just left my home," you answer as you smother the flames, "I'm not going to leave you too." John nods in acceptance.

"Alright, Gary, let's go," John concedes.

Without hesitation, Gary uses a device to open a square portal. After what you just saw John do, you aren't taken aback. You simply peer through the portal to what must be the bridge of the Waverider. Following the two men onto the ship, you take in everything on the sleek bridge. Your attention turns to the nearby parlor filled with antiques, but before you get the chance to explore any further, a disembodied voice causes you to jump. 

"Welcome back, Mr. Constantine," the voice says.

"Gideon," John replies, "This is Y/N Winchester."

"John, who are you talking to?" you question in a whisper, wondering if someone is watching you via a camera. Before you can wonder any longer, a blue, holographic head appears above the center console of the bridge. 

"My apologies, Ms. Winchester, I'm Gideon," the holograph tells you, "Welcome aboard the Waverider. The Legends should arrive shortly. I've been told by Captain Lance that their latest mission was a success."

"See, Gary, they didn't need my help anyway," John says, clearly annoyed. 

"Well, I didn't know that," Gary replies nervously. 

"John, it's fine," you tell him, "I want to be here." 

"Even if it means you're one step closer to Morningstar?" John asks.

"I have to face him eventually. Besides, the spell you put on me is working and we still have to travel back to his fall," you say to cover up the worry you actually feel.

Another portal opens across the room and a team that must be the Legends walks through, all dressed in clothing that looks like it came from the set of the Crucible. 

"Now he shows up," one of the men says grumpily, "We could have used your help about five minutes ago." 

"Mick's right," another voice chimes in.

The group seems to finally notice you. They look friendly enough, or most of them do anyway. 

"Everyone this is -" John tries to introduce you, but he's interrupted. 

"No way," one of the women says. She steps forward, removing a linen cap from her head to reveal long blonde hair. "I can't believe I'm actually getting to meet you," she says, taking your hand and shaking it excitedly. 

"You can't?" you question, confused. 

"Supernatural is one of my favorite shows," she tells you, "Your portrayal of Y/N is amazing. I'm a Dean girl myself, but I love the way you play Y/N, she's such a badass!"

"Oh no, it's happening again," you say, thinking back to the time Balthazar had transported you and your brothers to a set of a T.V. show called Supernatural. It had never occurred to you that the place he had sent you might have actually been an alternate version of Earth. 

"I'm sorry," she says, letting go of your hand, "I didn't mean to overwhelm you like that. I got carried away when I saw you."

"No, it's just, I'm not an actress. I'm actually Y/N Winchester. My brothers are Sam and Dean Winchester," you tell her. She laughs.

"John, how did you get her to pretend like she's in the French Mistake again?" the woman asks.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, Sara. This is Y/N, not some character out of a T.V. show," John says. Sara raises an eyebrow.

"I can prove it," you offer. Raising your hand, you start another fire and let it burn for a moment before shaking the flames out. The grumpy man who had spoken earlier seems keenly interested in your powers.

"John, whatever you're doing, stop it," Sara demands.

"The only thing I'm trying to do is introduce Y/N to you lot," John replies, “You wonder where I’ve been; well, I’ve been on another version of Earth trying to find out why Y/N and I are connected.”

“Okay, you can stop pulling my leg now,” Sara says.

“I know I’m a liar, but I’m telling the truth about this,” John says.

"What we're saying is true," you confirm, "If you watch the show and the character version of me is accurate, you know that I've always had this restless feeling of not belonging even when I'm with the people I call family. John and I are somehow connected and when I'm with him, some of that feeling fades away."

"Do you have those dreams like the Y/N on the show does?" Sara asks you. 

"You know about that?" you question. Your cheeks feel hot. How much of your life has been on display for everyone in this world to see? Her brow furrows as she begins to think. 

"But that means. . ." she begins, "Are you telling me that John Constantine is the man you dream about?"

"He's one of them," you admit, concerned that Sara knows entirely too much about your life.

"That's crazy," she says, "I always thought the man you dreamt about was dressed suspiciously like Constantine, but I wrote it off as some sort of reference to Castiel. And if the show is accurate, that means the other guy is . . . never mind, sorry, I should introduce you to the rest of the team."

She introduces you to Ray, Zari, and Mick, telling you that another of their teammates, Nate, is currently off ship. Apparently he’s at a place called the Time Bureau which is headed by a woman named Ava.

Ray and Zari are happy to accept you as a new addition, but Mick seems wary despite his interest in your powers. Sara tells you not to worry, that's just Mick, he'll come around eventually. You're given a full tour of the ship, served a meal from the Waveriders replicator, and asked a multitude of questions before you're finally able to get some time to yourself. 

John shows you to his room. It's familiar, you've dreamt about it before. Someone had already brought your bag to the room and placed it at the foot of Constantine's bed.

"Finally," John says as he shuts the door behind him, "I thought Sara was going to show you every last speck of dust on the ship before she let you sleep."

"It's fine," you tell him, "At least someone was excited to meet me, unlike how Sam and Dean felt about meeting you."

"I hope they weren't too overbearing," Constantine says, moving to stand in front of you. He runs his hands down your arms before taking your hands in his. 

"I'm exhausted," you tell him, "but I'm more excited to be here now than I was this morning."

"That's good at least," John says. He rests his forehead against yours. You capture his lips, kissing him deeply before you finally have to pull away to yawn. "Bored with me already?" Constantine chuckles. 

"Sorry, I really am exhausted," you answer.

"Come on then, let's get some rest," John says, nodding toward the bed. 

Tags:  @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese,@manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd

Fic:

"You're sure this is safe?" Sam asks. Sam and Dean hover in the doorway of your bedroom as they watch you pack.

"Is anything ever safe for us?" you retort. You toss a few extra plaid shirts into your duffel bag and zip it shut.

"I still don't like it," Dean comments, making his feelings known for the thousandth time, "You barely know the guy. What if he's lying about where he comes from? He could even be lying about where he's taking you. We can figure this out here; you don't need to explore other worlds."

After thinking things over and discussing the matter with John, you’d decided you should travel to John’s version of Earth and use the Waverider to hitch a ride back to Lucifer’s fall. Obviously you aren't keen on the idea of dreaming about Lucifer again, but if that’s the price you have to pay to keep Constantine in your life, you’re willing to pay it. 

As far as Sam knows, you’re traveling to John’s world in hopes of finding more information on your connection. You’ve already explained Crowley’s theory about Lucifer as well as your plan of traveling back in time to Dean though. Of course Dean thought you were crazy. Going back in time to Lucifer's fall from Heaven so he could dream about you and set off a series of events that lead to the present? No, to Dean it sounded like a ploy by Constantine to bring Lucifer back into your life. You know better. 

John is selfish. He enjoys being with you - and only you - and he isn’t afraid to say it. That said, you’re pretty sure he’d quite literally deal with the Devil just to keep you in his life. You trust that he wouldn’t let Lucifer harm you.

“Dean, do you trust me?” you ask.

“Why would you ask that? You know I do,” Dean answers. 

“I need to do this,” you tell him, “I need to understand why John and I are connected and why my powers reacted to him the way they did. More than that, I need to know where I come from. There’s always been a part of me that felt like I didn’t belong and maybe Crowley was right, maybe I never belonged on this Earth to begin with.” 

“It doesn’t matter how or why you wound up here,” Sam says, “but you’ve always belonged here. You’re family.” 

“It feels like we’re losing you,” Dean adds quietly.

The statements make your heart drop. You hate that you’ve been keeping things from Sam. You hate that you’ve decided to leave behind the only family you’ve ever known. Not being here, not knowing if your brothers and friends are safe, it’s terrifying; but you need answers and you can’t lose John.

“I promise I’ll come home,” you tell them before rushing to them and wrapping an arm around each of them at the same time, “I love you, both of you.” You struggle to hold back tears 

“We love you too,” Sam says as both brothers hug you tightly.

You wipe your eyes as you pull back from the hug. Looking back at your room, you do one last sweep to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything you need. You’ve packed all the essentials, some mementos, and a few extra weapons just in case. 

The last thing you grab is an item from your jewelry box; a golden, oval locket with flowers on the front. Your name is engraved on the back along with the phrase “In darkness, call to me.” The locket has never opened, not for lack of trying, so you have no clue what’s inside. All you know is that the necklace was the only thing you have left of your biological parents. It’s always been too important to risk losing while on hunts, but you can’t stand the thought of leaving it behind. 

Sam helps you put the necklace on before he and Dean follow you to the library. John stands near a large sigil he has drawn on the floor. 

“Are you ready, Luv?” he asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer. You set your bag next to the sigil before turning back to your brothers and giving them one last hug each. 

“Stay safe,” Sam tells you.

“You too,” you reply, too choked up to say much else. 

“Don’t let this asshat get you into trouble,” Dean adds, nodding towards John.

“Thanks for the confidence, Mate,” John states with a sarcastic smile. 

“I don’t care what world you’re on, if I find out you did anything to hurt Y/N -” Dean begins.

“Yes, yes, we all know how that statement ends,” John interrupts, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll be fine,” you promise, throat tight, “I should be the one telling you and Sam to stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sam assures you. You nod your head, still trying to hold back tears.

They refuse to say goodbye, and so do you, because this isn’t goodbye. You’ll see them again. You always do. 

Turning back to John, you move to stand by his side. John begins the spell and the sigil on the floor lights up. A portal begins to form in front of you; two curved lines starting at the floor moving in opposite directions before arching back together to create a perfect circle that stands about seven feet tall. The portal crackles like static on the television. Through the portal you can see the interior of the old house you’d seen in one of your dreams, the one littered with antiques. 

You pick up your bag from the floor. Glancing over your shoulder, you take one last look at your brothers and the place you’ve called home for so long. They give you a nod, a silent “until we meet again,” and you nod in return. Turning back to the portal, John takes your free hand in his. 

“Ready?” he asks softly. 

“Ready,” you confirm. 

Tags:  @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese, @manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @ sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd

Fic:

With Jaskier seated behind Geralt on Roach and you on Chestnut, you ride as fast as you can toward the nearest settlement. It isn't long before you come across an encampment where you meet an elven healer named Chireadan. 

"I can't do anything more for him," Chireadan tells you, causing your heart to break, "Any remedies I have to offer aren't any better than the ones you've already given him. You need a mage to heal him now."

"Where can we find one?" you ask.

"There is a mage in Rinde," Chireadan answers, "Even though the mayor outlawed them, he had one imprisoned in his house."

"Let's go," Geralt says. He lifts Jaskier from the ground and although Geralt doesn't need the help, you step in to support Jaskier anyway.

"She's dangerous," Chireadan warns.

"We'll take our chances," Geralt mutters.

***

Gaining entrance to the mayor's home is easy when you have a witcher. When a guard states that money opens all doors, Geralt agrees. He knocks the guard out with a change purse. 

The two of you work together to get Jaskier inside. Once you do, you're greeted by the very confused and very naked mayor of Rinde. You don’t have time for this.

"Follow the music," you instruct. Geralt helps you maneuver Jaskier downstairs only to find a mass of writhing bodies. You pull away from the hands that reach out to grasp at your clothing.

At the head of the room is a woman who seems to be the one directing this orgy. Geralt passes Jaskier off to you and makes his way up to the woman. You lower Jaskier to the floor and rest his head in your lap, trying your best to comfort him and keep him away from the mass of orgy goers.

You can't hear them conversing until the mage says the word 'ragamuffin' loudly. The orgy halts immediately; the people around you look as if they've just come out of a haze. They quickly leave, leaving only four of you in the room. 

The woman introduces herself as Yennifer of Vengerberg. Geralt begins to introduce himself, but there's no need. "You're the famous White Wolf," she says as she approaches Geralt. Her attention then turns to you, "and you're the runaway I've heard tell of, the lady worth five times her weight in gold."

"Please, we need your help," you beg her, "We need you to heal our friend."

Yennifer moves to your side and kneels, examining Jaskier, "How did this happen?"

"A djinn," you answer, "he made two wishes and before he could make his third, it attacked him."

"A djinn," Yennifer repeats contemplatively, "I can help him, but what is he worth to you?"

"Anything you want, name your price," you say, "I'll let you turn me in and keep the gold if that's what you want."

"That won't be necessary," Yennifer tells you and you're instantly relieved. "Do you think you can encourage him to make his last wish?"

"I can," you promise.

"Then I'll heal him," Yennifer promises, "Follow me."

Carrying Jaskier, Geralt follows Yennifer to one of the upstairs bedrooms. You follow close behind. Geralt lays Jaskier on the bed and Yennifer sits beside him. She warns you to stay back and to stop pacing the room because it's distracting.  

You follow her instructions. Tears flow freely from your eyes. Things had moved so quickly that you hadn't really gotten the chance to process what's happening. Now that there's nothing left for you to do you can't help but cry, fearing the worst. Geralt notices and he pulls you to him. You bury your face into his chest and he runs his fingers through your hair as he tries to comfort you. 

You hear Yennifer complete her spell, but you're afraid to look. "He'll be fine," Yennifer tells you, "He's only sleeping. It will help him heal. In the meantime, I'm sure you could both use a bath. Would you like to join me?" 

Geralt agrees, but you decide you'd rather stay by Jaskier's side in case he wakes up. You pull back from Geralt and cautiously walk over to Jaskier. He's dirty and bloody, but his neck looks less swollen and he seems to be sleeping peacefully. You sit on the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back from his face.

"Might I have some water to clean him?" you ask and Yennifer nods. She leads Geralt out of the room, presumably leading him to the bath, before she returns with a pitcher of warm water, a bowl, and several clean cloths. "Thank you," you say softly, "I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't survived."

"Would you really have given up your freedom for this man?" Yennifer asks you as she sets the items on the nightstand. 

"In a heartbeat," you answer.

"Why?" she questions, "You earned your freedom, why give it up for him?"

"Jaskier and Geralt saved me once," you answer, “and they stayed with me while I was healing from the wounds my captors gave me. Besides, I ran from my 'destiny' once, I can escape it again. I'm not afraid to earn my freedom a second time."

Yennifer hums and gives you an appreciative smirk before leaving you alone with Jaskier. 

You awkwardly remove Jaskier's doublet and toss it to the floor, leaving him in a bloodstained white shirt. The laces are undone enough to show the hair on his chest. As he sleeps, you pour some warm water into the bowl and wet one of the cloths. You take your time, gently wiping away the blood and dirt until his skin is clean.

You aren't sure how much time has passed. The water has turned a dark reddish brown and all of the cloths are now dirty. You place everything on a table across the room just so it's out of the way. 

Once you're done you lie down beside Jaskier and interlace your fingers with his. You cup his cheek and turn his face toward you, resting your forehead to his. Jaskier inhales deeply and his eyes flutter open. A smile crosses his lips when he sees you. 

"I must be dead," he comments sleepily. 

"Oh, and why is that?" you question, propping yourself up on your elbow.

"Because there's an angel in my bed," he replies sleepily, "Hmm, that rhymed and I wasn't even trying!" You scoff and roll your eyes.

"I wasn't sure you'd make it, but I've been assured you'll survive," you inform him as you run your thumb along his cheek bone. 

"That's good to hear," he says as he pushes himself up to rest against the headboard. You do the same. There's a pause before you continue.

"Jaskier, I heard your wishes," you tell him. 

"Y-you did?"

"Yes, and you know you're an idiot right?"

"Excuse me?"

"Poor Valdo is probably dead somewhere."

"Why is it always poor Valdo?" Jaskier mumbles. 

"And forcing people to love you without their consent isn't okay," you continue, "Why did you bother wasting a wish on me anyway?"

“I-I didn’t mean to force you into anything, I wasn’t thinking,” Jaskier says. He truly looks ashamed. "I never thought spending a wish on you was a waste. I'm sorry."

"Well it was a waste."

"Are you angry with me?" he questions, "I still have one wish left, I could use it to reverse my last wish if you want."

"Use it to save Valdo," you tell him, earning grumbles from Jaskier.

"Out of curiosity, did the wish work?"

"I wouldn't know," you answer with a shrug.

“Meaning. . .?” Jaskier prompts.

"You didn't need to wish for me to return your affections because I already do."

"You do?" Jaskier questions, a hopeful smile crossing his lips.

"Isn't it obvious? I've practically been begging you to kiss me."

"I thought it was only because I owed you a kiss."

You sigh heavily. "I’ve been using that as a pretense. The truth is I want you, Jaskier."

"But what about Geralt?" Jaskier asks, "I've seen the way you look at him; and there was that night I caught you in the tub together . . . and when he taught you how to start a fire . . . aren't you interested in him?"

"I am," you admit, "but I'm also interested in you. Besides, Geralt's off bathing with Yennifer of Vengerberg so I can probably guess where that's headed."

"Both of us?" Jaskier asks, seeming astonished. He completely ignores your comment about Geralt and Yennifer.

"Is that a problem?" you question. 

"Well no, not for me anyway," Jaskier answers, "Geralt and I have shared many things in the past, though never the same woman. I just don't understand how you can have feelings for both of us. We're so different."

"That's what I find appealing," you answer, "I've felt this way for a while. I just wasn't sure how to tell you or Geralt; and honestly I was starting to think you didn't like me."

"I've loved you from the moment you leapt to my defense," Jaskier tells you as he cups your cheek, "I kept rejecting your advances because I was afraid I'd lose you."

"You pushed me away to because you were afraid to lose me?"

Jaskier's hand falls back to his lap and he looks away from you.

"People get bored with me, they always do. I thought that you would stay with me until you got the kiss I owed you; and if you stayed, you might actually start to develop feelings for me. Maybe then you wouldn't leave me like everyone else."

"Jaskier," you whisper softly, “I promise I won’t leave you.” Reaching up, you turn his face toward you again and press your lips to his. Jaskier hesitates for a moment before melting into the kiss. 

One of his hands twists into your hair, the other splays across your lower back and pulls you in close. He deepens the kiss, finally giving in to the wanting and longing he's felt for you. You return the kiss just as passionately, kissing him until you have to pull away for air.

"You're ridiculous, you know that right?" you tease him as you rest your forehead against his, "As if I would have stuck around for a lousy kiss if I didn't really want to be here."

"Take that back," Jaskier demands, "I am many things, but I am not a lousy kisser."

You laugh before challenging, "That's debatable, but if you kiss me again perhaps I'll change my mind."

Tags: @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese, @manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @ sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd, @astudyinwinchester, @crowleysgrl, @21-kacie, @little-lucifer-motherfucker, @crowleysprincess159, @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard

Fic:

The gust of wind and sound of wings from behind you make you jump as you enter your bedroom. You've been dating the angel for a while now, but his sudden appearances at random times still have the ability to startle you. 

"You scare me every time you do that!" you laugh, "But I'm glad you're here." With your back still to him, you place your duffle bag on a chair in the corner of the room, too lazy to unpack after a long hunt. You kick off your shoes, narrowing your eyes at the opalescent feathers littering your floor. He has wings, sure, but you've never seen them let alone random feathers.  

"I need your help," he tells you, irritation clear in his voice.

"Michael, what's wrong?" you question. You turn to face him and stop in your tracks. He stands just inside your doorway, shirtless with six beautiful white wings extended behind him. His fingers fuss with his feathers, clearly annoyed with how they're placed. 

Despite his fussing, your jaw drops in awe. He's gorgeous to begin with, messy dark hair, expressive blue-gray eyes, a body to die for; but the wings, they just add to the masterpiece. 

"It's my wings," Michael confides, "They need grooming. Normally I would do it myself - I tried to this time as well - but there are always places I can't reach and they've been bothersome lately. I was wondering - hoping that you'd help me. You're the only one I trust enough to ask . . . Y/N?" He furrows his brow in concern when you don't answer.

"O-of course," you finally reply, snapping out of your fantasies, "Sit on the bed." You rush past him and shut your bedroom door, making sure to lock it so Sam and Dean can't interrupt. "Um, where should I start?" you ask

"My back," Michael answers, "That's the hardest spot for me to reach." You nod and move to sit cross legged on the bed behind him. Gently placing your fingers against the small of his back, you run your fingers up his spine until you touch the soft downy feathers where his wings meet his back. Michael shudders at the contact. 

"Are you all right?" you question, pulling your hand away. 

"Yes," he answers, "I've just never let anyone touch me like this before." 

"It's okay to be nervous," you tell him. You certainly are.

"I'm not nervous," he contests, though he shudders again when you touch him. 

"Tell me if I do something wrong," you instruct. Michael nods, groaning as you gently run your fingers through the soft feathers. 

You take your time, righting each feather that's out of place, removing the loose ones, and taking time to massage the ridge of each wing. He groans and grunts, hands fisting into the sheets. At first you're afraid you might be hurting him, but the noises he makes soon descend into wanton moans and pleading for you not to stop. 

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and watch as Michael moves his hand to his lap. His hips buck as he rubs himself through his jeans. Michael's head tips forward, pleading words spilling from his lips. You quickly decide to quite literally take matters into your own hands. 

Sitting up on your knees, you run your hands down Michael's chest and abdomen. You unbuckle his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, pushing them down as best as you can. Michael moves his hand back to the bed, allowing you to slip your right hand into his boxers. He's already rock hard, his tip slicked with precum. 

"Y/N," he groans as you wrap your hand around his length. His head tips back to rest against your shoulder. You run your left hand along the ridge of one of his wings as you collect a bead of precum with your right thumb. His hips buck, begging you for friction. 

You place kisses down the column of his neck as you tease the head of his cock, your other hand playing with his feathers. "Did you know this would happen?" you ask between kisses, genuinely curious. 

"No," he whispers, "Please, Y/N, don't stop, I need -" 

You know exactly what he needs. His words descend into groans as you stroke him. Such an unholy sound coming from the archangel causes heat to pool in your core. Each stroke of your hand and each tug of his feathers brings him closer and closer to release. The aching between your legs intensifies and you draw pleasure just from seeing the mess you've reduced this powerful being to. 

Michael's cock throbs in your hand. His wings press back so that your fingers slide deep between the feathers. You tug his feathers hard and he comes with a deep, animalistic groan. Michael's body shudders and his hands fist into the sheets, his cock pulsing as he spills himself into your hand. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer as you work him through his high. 

"That's it, Angel," you praise him, gently smoothing out his feathers. You pull your hand from his boxers and Michael turns to watch as you lick your fingers clean, humming at the taste. 

Michael's eyes are dark, pupils flooded with lust. He presses his lips to yours in a hungry, consuming kiss. The kiss is only broken to pull your shirt over your head. You remove your bra as Michael works to open your jeans. Tossing your bra to the side, you lie back on the bed, lifting your hips to help as Michael rids you of the rest of your clothing. He rids himself of his clothing as well before caging you beneath him. 

Michael's hand grasps your wrists, pressing them down onto the bed above your head. He places kisses down the column of your neck and you tilt your head to the side to give him better access. You shudder in excitement as his kisses travel lower, pressing your legs together in an attempt to satisfy the aching in your core. Michael takes one of your nipples between his lips, sucking gently as his free hand roams your body. 

You moan loudly as he explores your body. He's done this plenty of times before, but each time feels like it's the first; like he's committing every inch of you to memory. 

"Michael," you gasp as he runs his fingers along your wet folds. You buck your hips, begging him to slip his fingers inside you, but Michael denies you. He moves to your other breast, paying it the same attention as the first. His fingers tease your clit, giving you just enough friction to leave you desperate for more. 

"Please," you whisper, wriggling beneath him. Michael watches you through his lashes as his kisses slowly trail further down your body. He finally releases your wrists and you quickly delve both hands between his feathers. Michael nips at the skin of your thigh in response. You grasp his feathers and tug to encourage him, not that he needs much encouragement at this point. 

Michael pushes your legs apart and buries his face between them. You moan his name as he laves his tongue along your folds. He hums, the vibrations going straight to your core. When he takes your clit between his lips and sucks your hips buck up from the bed. You tug harder at his feathers, eliciting another groan from the angel. 

It isn't long before a knot begins to twist in your stomach. Michael places your legs over his shoulders before grasping your hips. You try to rock your hips, but Michael grasps you tighter. He guides you into a steady rhythm, his tongue working wonders. You shudder as his nose nudges your clit. 

"Michael, please," you whimper as he works you closer and closer to the edge. His wings surround you, feathers soft against your skin. You drag your fingers through them, grasp, and tug. Michael rewards you with groans that cause the knot in your stomach to pull tight. His mouth moves to your clit again, licking and sucking. He slides two fingers inside you and curls them in a come hither motion that hits your g-spot perfectly. His fingers pump in and out of you, bringing you closer to your end.

Looking down, you see Michael watching you through his lashes. His eyes begin to glow a bright blue as his grace washes over and through you. The warm, tingling sensation running through your body on top of everything else sets you over the edge. 

You cry out his name as you come undone around his fingers. Your body shudders hard as the knot in your stomach snaps and pleasure courses through you. You fist your hands tight into Michael's feathers as you try to find something solid to hold onto. Michael grunts in response, his wings pressing closer to your body. 

Michael works you through your high and laps up everything you have to give him before slipping your legs from his shoulders and propping himself up on his elbows. You watch as he sucks his fingers clean, copying your actions from earlier. When he's done, he looks you over. A smirk crosses his lips as he examines the mess he's made of you. He shifts so that he's above you again, caging you beneath him. 

"I'm sorry about your wings," you say breathlessly. You run your hands along his chest and shoulders before cupping his face between your hands and drawing him in for a kiss. 

"If I knew how good it would feel, I would've asked you to groom them weeks ago," he mutters against your lips.

You break the kiss and guide his forehead to rest against your own. "I really didn't groom them," you murmur, "I think I actually made things worse." Reaching for one of his wings, you lazily try to straighten the disheveled feathers. 

Tags: @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese,@manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd

Fic:

You can hear voices coming from the war room. Crowley has already arrived and you can hear him complaining about Sam and Dean’s use of summoning rather than a cell phone to request his help. His attitude changes as soon as you round the corner. Your hand slips from Constantine's as you move closer to Crowley. 

"There you are, Love," Crowley croons when he sees you. He opens his arms wide and you hug him eagerly. "How have you been, little Phoenix?"

"Oh, you know, I'm fine," you answer as you pull away from the hug, "Is Phoenix my new nickname?" John stands at a distance sizing up the King of Hell. His hands are in the pockets of his slacks, trench coat pushed back.

"I heard how you rose from the ashes," Crowley responds with a shrug, "I thought it was appropriate."

"That's more poetic than what really happened," you comment, "Maybe you should call me Human Bonfire or Dumpster Fire seeing as I was in an abandoned alleyway."

"You're right, much less poetic. I'll pick the nicknames, thank you," he responds before turning his attention to Constantine, "This must be the magical soulmate Moose and Squirrel have told me about." He looks John up and down, clearly not impressed with the magician.

"Oh, I'm more than just her magical soulmate, Mate," John comments as he closes the distance between you. You lean into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. Crowley seems unphased.

"Are you sure you don't want to take me up on my offer, Y/N?" Crowley questions, "Why waste your time with a mere magician when you could assist me in ruling Hell?" 

"And be your lackey?" you laugh, "Not that I have the aspiration, but I'd be Queen before I'd be the King's minion."

"Well, the position of Queen is open if you ever change your mind," Crowley muses with a smirk. You roll your eyes and push his shoulder playfully. 

Sam clears his throat, "If you're done flirting, we have things to discuss."

“Important things,” John adds. He isn’t good at hiding his jealousy.

"Yes, your little 'demon problem' as you called it," Crowley says with a wave of his hand, "As I said, no minion of mine was here."

“Do you know where this came from?” Dean asks, sliding a glass jar across the table. The jar is filled with the creature’s ashes.

“Your fireplace?” Crowley answers, “How should I know? I’m the King of Hell, not a dirt expert.”

You describe the hell hound-like creature you'd encountered as you hand John’s tattered shirt to Crowley for him to inspect. He examines the fur and the ash left behind, just to humor you, but still doesn’t have an answer. Crowley furrows his brow as you reach the part where you killed the creature with your magic.

“My magic has never worked that way before,” you explain, “Normally when I catch a creature on fire the flames leave behind a body or at least bones; they’ve never just reduced a monster to ashes before.”

"Well, you know my hell hounds don't look like the mongrel you described and I can't say that I've ever seen a creature like that," Crowley comments, "but I would say that you've described a bastardized version of a hell hound."

"Do you think someone could've created them?" you question, "Maybe a god from another religion or some demon gone rogue?"

"It’s possible, but I haven’t heard anything about it. My guess is that if your boy-toy here came from another world, the creatures do too," Crowley theorizes.

"That was my thought," you admit, "I hoped I was wrong."

"Have you considered the possibility that you might be from another version of Earth as well?" Crowley questions. 

"That's ridiculous," Dean challenges. 

"Is it?" Constantine asks, "I traveled here, maybe Y/N did too."

"I'm a pyromancer. I can't even teleport between rooms, let alone whole planets," you scoff.

"You were able to dream walk without knowing how," John comments. 

"And who says someone didn't put you here on purpose?" Crowley adds. 

"Are you suggesting that my parents decided to drop me off at an orphanage far, far away?" you remark.

"I only meant to suggest that perhaps an enemy put you here because they knew you were a threat," Crowley says, almost apologetically, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

"I know," you sigh, "Sorry I snapped."

"Crowley has a point though," Sam reasons, "Why were you able to kill the hell hound with your magic when Constantine's didn't work, let alone the angel blade?"

"If you originated from the same place as those demons, it's possible that your magic would have more of an effect on them," John adds, "If not that, then you must be connected to them somehow."

“I didn’t feel any sort of connection to that . . . thing,” you comment, “I just wanted it dead for hurting you.” John smiles before kissing your cheek.

***

Your conversation with Crowley had been less fruitful than you had hoped, but before he leaves Crowley announces that he wants to speak to you alone. You send Sam and Dean out for food. John refuses to budge.

"We're in this together, Luv," John reminds you. He intertwines his fingers with yours to reinforce his point. Crowley raises an eyebrow as if he's unsure how to proceed. 

"Whatever you want to tell me, John can hear it too," you encourage.

Crowley nods before proceeding, "Dean told me about your dreams and the people in them. He said you seemed to believe that the Lucifer you saw wasn't the one we know, but I had to be sure. After what happened with Sam, I didn't want you going through the same thing. I decided to inspect the cage myself. Not a single crack. From what I can tell, you're safe from him . . . our version of him anyhow."

"Thank you for checking," you say. It gives you peace of mind knowing that John isn't lying when he says that Lucifer Morningstar isn't the devil you know. "If it's possible that I came from another world, do you think it's possible that I'm reincarnated or that I've lived so long that I've forgotten?" you question, "You were human once, have you ever forgotten your past?"

"I only just found out that alternate Earths exist. I suppose anything's possible. As far as forgetting the past, I suppose I've lost some of the details, but I remember the big things," Crowley answers, "Why do you ask?"

"Lucifer said something to me," you begin, "Something about having dreamt about me for thousands of years. How could I have forgotten something like that?"

"Was he telling the truth?" Crowley asks. 

"Lucifer Morningstar is a right bastard, but he's no liar," John says, "He mentioned the same thing to me, Luv; said you were there the night he fell from Heaven."

"I think I would remember something like that," you comment. 

"Perhaps it's like that book, 'The Time Traveler's Wife,'" Crowley offers.

"You've read 'The Time Traveler's Wife?'" you laugh.

"I read,” Crowley says, offended, “Anyway, the point is, perhaps it already happened for him, but it hasn't happened yet for you,”

"Time travel does exist in my world," John chimes in, "The Wave Rider could take you to the time of his fall if you wanted." 

"I'm not sure that's somewhere I really want to go," you reply, "I haven't dreamt about Lucifer in weeks and I'm not sure I want to start now.”

"You may have to," Crowley says, "If you want your present to remain the way it is now." You furrow your brow and Crowley adds, "If Lucifer dreaming of you is the reason that you now dream of him and your lover here, you may need to go back and start the events that lead to today." 

"He might be right," John admits, "If Lucifer never dreamt about you in the past, it potentially changes the whole timeline."

"That can actually happen?" you ask, looking at John worriedly. 

"If the timeline rewrites itself, you and I may never meet," John confirms, worry flooding his expression.

Tags: @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese, @manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @ sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd

Fic:

Convincing Ivar to come back to the feast had taken some time, but eventually he’s willing to enter the hall by your side. Ragnar beckons you to the front of the hall, congratulating the both of you on your betrothal. He pulls his son away from you and forces Ivar to sit beside him. Aslaug offers you a seat beside her while staring daggers at your parents.

“I can have a room made up for you,” Aslaug tells you, “or you can stay with Ivar if you wish, but I thought you might prefer to spend the night here rather than in your previous accommodations.” 

“I’d appreciate that,” you answer. The way your parents look at you, you aren’t sure they’d welcome you anyway. They look as if they might disown you; and if they did, if you lost your station in life, would the arrangement between Vendil and Kattegat hold? Would your betrothal? You try not to think too hard about what might transpire and instead try to focus on the present.

When the guests have eaten their fill, they turn their attention to music and other revelries. The King and Queen have left you and Ivar to your own devices. You move to sit next to him. While he watches the people dancing, you can’t take your eyes off Ivar. You intertwine your fingers with his and kiss his cheek. He seems shocked at first, but soon settles into the situation. 

“I wish I could ask you to dance,” Ivar says softly.

“Then come dance with me,” you reply,

“I can’t, not like that. Maybe one of my brothers would be willing -”

“Ivar, stop,” you interrupt, “I’d rather be here with you than over there prancing around with one of them.” 

“It seems a shame,” Ivar counters, “to keep you stuck here when you could be having fun.” He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“I am having fun,” you reply, “I like sitting with you and listening to the music. Watching other people dance can be fun too.”

“It isn't the same, Y/N,” Ivar protests, reluctantly admitting, "I'd like to watch you dance."

“Oh, would you like me to dance for you?" you ask him. With a playful smile, you stand in front of him and begin moving to the sound of the drumbeat. Ivar watches hungrily, eyes following your hands as they move across your body and through your hair. His gaze drifts behind you for just a moment before he returns his attention to you. When Ivar grasps your hips, you fall out of rhythm with the music and stop dancing.

"I - I want you to myself," Ivar says timidly, “I don’t want other people watching.”

"Is there somewhere more private we can go?” you ask.

Ivar pushes himself up from his chair and offers you a hand. You follow as he leads you past the thrones and to one of the bedrooms located at the back of the Great Hall. A fire already roars in the fireplace, illuminating the wooden furniture and the furs draped over chairs and across the bed. Netting hangs to either side of the bed, presumably a means of helping Ivar pull himself out of bed in the morning. 

As soon as he's drawn the door closed, he pulls you to him and kisses you passionately. You thread your fingers through his hair, your other hand splaying across the small of his back. Ivar only breaks the kiss for air. He rests his forehead against yours. 

"The way they all stare and judge doesn't bother you?" he questions. 

"Other than my parents, I didn't notice," you answer. 

"I noticed," Ivar tells you, "They can't imagine why a Princess betrothed herself to a cripple by choice." 

"Then their imagination is limited and their stares and judgments aren't worth our notice," you say. You kiss him gently, hand sliding from his back, to his abdomen, and up to his chest. His heartbeat is strong beneath your hand, the pace beginning to quicken. 

"May I?" Ivar asks as his fingers brush over the golden broach that fastens the strap of your dress. You nod your head in approval and Ivar makes quick work of the clasp. One strap falls away, then the other. Your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in your under-dress. You pull the garment over your head and remove your shoes and underclothes, fully revealing yourself to Ivar's blue gaze. His hand traces your curves, committing your body to memory. 

"This isn't fair," you whisper, tugging at his tunic. Ivar considers for a moment before moving to sit at the foot of the bed. He sets his crutch to the side before unbuckling the belt around his waist and pulling his tunic over his head. You rake your eyes over him, admiring the tattoos adorning his muscular chest, shoulders, and arms. The Mjölnir pendant hanging from the cord around his neck glints in the fire light. You move closer, hands reaching for the laces of his trousers.

"No!" Ivar says harshly as he catches your wrists, quietly adding, "I told you, Y/N, I can't." Ivar gives you an icy stare as if you'd just betrayed him. 

"I know what you said. . . I just want to see you, all of you," you explain. 

"No," he repeats more gently this time, "I do not want you to see me that way, to think of me like that every time you look at me." 

"Ivar, seeing your legs won't change how I feel about you," you assure him. 

"You don't know that," he says, "and I'm not ready to risk it. I'm sorry I yelled." He interlaces his fingers with yours, but looks away, ashamed.

"I forgive you," you reply as you squeeze his hands, "Would you like me to dance for you again?" You can still hear the drums well enough to keep time with them if you wanted to. Ivar shakes his head. He places your hands on his shoulders before reaching for your hips and guiding you to straddle his lap. 

You explore his bare skin with your hands, loving the way his muscles move beneath them as he pulls you closer. He kisses you until you’re breathless, his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. His lips move down your neck and along your collarbone, his kisses exciting you. You'd never been touched this way before and you're glad it's Ivar you're with.

One of Ivar's hands slides up your abdomen and his calloused fingers gently caresses your breast. His eyes flick up to meet your gaze as if he's asking for permission before going any further. Without saying a word, you take Ivar's hand and show him how to touch you. He's a quick study. Before long, he's massaging you and rolling your nipple between his fingers. He kisses your other breast, taking the nipple between his lips and sucking gently. 

You moan, back arching in search of more. Your fingers thread through his hair and he groans a deep, primal groan when you tug. The sound sends shivers down your spine and causes heat to pool in your core. Ivar pulls away and looks up at you, pupils flooded with lust. 

"You said there were other ways to please a woman; teach me," Ivar demands.

“Ivar, are you sure? You don’t have to,” you whisper.

“I want to,” he answers, “Please, Y/N, let me do this for you.” The thought excites you even further. You place a hand over his and guide it down your body.

"Sometimes, when I'm alone, I touch myself like this," you explain. You guide his hand between your legs and demonstrate how to tease you. You're already wet and his fingers easily slide along your folds.

Ivar pays close attention to how you guide his fingers so that next time he won't need your instruction. You whimper when you slide his finger inside you alongside your own. He imitates you as you move your finger in and out of yourself, curling it against that delicious spot inside you. You press the heel of his hand to your sensitive bud, causing you to moan loudly. 

Ivar takes notice of how you react to each little action. Before long, you let him take over. Pulling your finger from yourself, you let Ivar replace it with another of his. You wipe your wetness on your thigh before placing both hands on Ivar's shoulders. Bracing yourself, you begin shifting your hips and riding his fingers, loving the way they stretch and fill you. 

His eyes drink you in, enthralled by your movements, excited by the notion that he could bring you to this with only his fingers. A knot forms in your stomach, twisting and pulling tight as Ivar coaxes you closer and closer to climax. Your walls begin to tighten around him as he experiments, altering his rhythm and thrusting his fingers deeper inside you. He adds a third finger and you cry out in pleasure as he stretches you even further. 

"Ivar," you moan breathlessly as your walls flutter around his fingers. Your orgasm builds and builds until you can't hold it back any longer. Ivar curls his fingers and presses the heel of his hand against you in just the right way to send you plummeting over the edge. You shout Ivar's name as the knot in your stomach snaps. Pleasure crashes over you like a wave, your body shuddering as your walls clamp down around his fingers. 

Ivar groans and draws his bottom lip between his teeth. He can't take his eyes off you, his gaze something akin to worship. You pull him in for a kiss as he works you through your high. 

"Was that . . . did I do that right?” Ivar stammers against your lips, not sure what to ask.

"You were perfect," you assure him, causing him to smile, "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." He beams with newfound confidence. Without missing a beat, Ivar pulls his fingers from you and brings them to his lips. He hums as he licks them clean, making you weak in the knees. 

"What else can you teach me?" Ivar questions eagerly. 

"There is something I've heard other women talk about, but I've never tried it," you admit, blushing at the thought of Ivar's head buried between your legs. 

"Tell me," Ivar insists. 

"Another time," you answer, "I want to do something for you. What can I do?"

"Sleep here tonight," Ivar replies.

"Is that it? I want to make you feel the way I just felt."

"You can't, not exactly."

"I know, but there must be something."

Ivar furrows his brow, looking as if he's unsure how to proceed or how to tell you what he wants. "Could you . . . hold me?" Ivar asks timidly. He looks ashamed for asking, like he's waiting for you to laugh at him. 

"Come here," you instruct without a second though. You move from his lap and draw back the furs on his bed. Once you're comfortably situated against his pillows, you reach out to him, beckoning him toward you. 

Ivar crawls to you willingly and positions himself beside you. He snuggles in close and rests his head on your chest, his arm draped over your waist. You cover both of you with the furs and wrap your arms around him, holding him tight.

"I love you, Ivar," you whisper as you run your fingers through his hair and place a kiss to the top of his head. 

Tags: @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese, @manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @ sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd

Fic:

When you wake in the morning, you're alone. The bed rolls to either side of you are cold. You're surprised they'd gone off and left you after last night, but you can hear their harsh whispers so you know they're close by. 

You follow the sound of their voices, heading toward the river, but you stop when you realize what their conversation is about. Its likely Geralt has already heard you approaching, but you still press yourself against a tree and try to stay quiet as you listen. 

"- rejected her multiple times," you hear Geralt say. You hear the splash of a fishing net as he casts it out into the water.

"That's not - now wait a minute," you hear Jaskier stammer, frustrated, "It isn't as if I don't want to kiss her."

"She thinks it is," Geralt replies. Jaskier stammers in frustration as he tries to form a response. 

"Why would she think that? Did you tell her as much? I wouldn't put it past you. You knew how I felt about her and still you went ahead and stripped yourself naked to bathe with her," Jaskier accuses, "and you didn't stop there. No, you tried to kiss her. Don't even try to deny it because I saw you." 

"Why don't you just tell her how you feel?" Geralt asks.

"Because - because . . . that's none of your business," Jaskier tries to argue, "It doesn't matter now anyway. I saw the way she clung to you last night; and the way she looked at you all longingly across the campfire as we ate." Geralt huffs and you can practically hear him roll his eyes. 

"I saw the way she clung to you too," Geralt sighs, "and the way she looks at you."

"As if you're jealous," Jaskier laughs spitefully. 

"I shouldn't be, but I am," Geralt admits. 

"Why? Her interest in you is plain to see," Jaskier says.

"Her interest will fade," Geralt tells his friend, "It always does, but her interest in you. . ." Geralt's words trail off. You hear the net being pulled in.

"Well you clearly aren't paying attention," Jaskier growls. Geralt grunts in response. Jaskier is about to elaborate, but his attention is drawn to something else as he notices what Geralt has pulled from the water. "W-wow. What is that?" he asks.

You peak around the tree in order to see what Geralt had caught. Both men are examining what looks to be an old clay vessel of some kind.

"It's a wizard's seal," Geralt explains, his fingers brushing the stopper in the mouth of the vessel, "A djin."

"Do you mind if I -" Jaskier begins as he reaches for the vessel. You can already tell this isn't going to end well. 

"Jaskier," Geralt says in warning. 

"Take it back about my filling-less pie and promise I'll never again walk in on you and Y/N bathing together," Jaskier challenges. You're not quite sure what the pie is about, but you know Jaskier isn't going to give up until he gets what he wants. "Say it, and then you get your djinny-djinn-djinn."

"Let go," Geralt demands, tugging the vessel toward himself.

"No! No, let go, you horse's arse!" Jaskier shouts, not letting go. Suddenly, the stopper pops free leaving Geralt holding the stopper and Jaskier holding the now open vessel. Jaskier hums and tips the vessel over. Nothing comes out. "Bit of an anticlimax," he says, disappointed.

Wind begins to pick up, rustling the leaves around you. 

"Or is it?" you hear Jaskier say with excitement in his voice. Shouting, he continues, "Djin, I have freed thee and as of this day, I am thy lord!" 

Geralt only watches as Jaskier approaches the river bank and shouts over the water.

"Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die. Secondly, may Y/N, my maiden fair, find it in her heart to return my affections and forgive me for any rejection she may have felt because of me in the past. Thirdly -"

"Jaskier, stop," Geralt demands, cutting the bard off before he can make the final wish. He yanks Jaskier back from the edge of the water by the collar of Jaskier's doublet. "There are only three wishes," Geralt explains.

"Oh, come on, you always say you want nothing from life. So how was I supposed to know you wanted three wishes all to yourself?" Jaskier shouts.

"I just want some damn peace!" Geralt shouts back. 

"Well, here's your peace!" Jaskier retorts before throwing the vessel on the ground and shattering it.

Geralt growls before bending down to collect the shards. Moving from your hiding place, you decide to intervene before the fighting gets any worse. As you approach, Jaskier stumbles backward, clutching his chest and coughing. You rush to his side and ask him what's wrong.

"Geralt," he says hoarsely, "Geralt. . . it's the djinn." Jaskier points and with lightning fast reflexes, Geralt turns and prepares to fight the demon off. 

Your attention is pulled back to Jaskier as he bends forward, reaching for something to steady himself. You grasp his left arm and wrap your other arm around his waist. 

"Jaskier," Geralt says, clearly worried about his friend. He grasps Jaskier's right arm and places his other hand on Jaskier's back. You gasp in horror as Jaskier coughs up blood. 

"We need to get him back to camp now," you tell Geralt. Geralt helps you lead Jaskier back to the campsite and helps him sit down as you gather your supplies.

"Can you heal him?" Geralt asks, watching you as you frantically search through your supplies. You glance up at Jaskier and notice his throat beginning to swell.

Tags: @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese,@manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd

Fic:

John wants to wash the blood and ash off him and change clothes before meeting Crowley. Normally, he’d use a spell to clean and repair his clothes, but this time he thinks better of it. There might be dirt or fur on the material that could indicate where the hellhound-like creature had come from. Though he doesn't really need your help, you decide to escort him to his room anyway. You intertwine your fingers with his as you walk and he seems just as reluctant as you to let go. 

"Who is this Crowley bloke you called?" Constantine asks you, "Nothing to do with Aleister Crowley, I hope."

"The occultist? No. Crowley's . . . a friend," you answer, leaving out some minor details. 

"You don't sound too sure about that, Luv," John remarks with a raised eyebrow. 

"Crowley can be a pain in the ass, but he's helpful when it suits him," you reply, "Kind of like yourself." John huffs.

"I already don't like him," Constantine grumbles.

Lowering your voice, you ask, "Who do you think sent those monsters? Could it have been him?"

"Who? Morningstar?" Constantine questions in an equally hushed voice. When you nod in conformation he continues, "No. He wouldn't do that. I know you think he's evil and all, but if his connection to you is anything like the one I feel, he'd never intentionally do anything to harm you."

"They didn't harm me though," you reason, "The goblin things went after Sam and Dean and the dog attacked you. Even after I stabbed it, it wouldn't attack me."

"Maybe it wanted to kill me first," Constantine says with a shrug, "but trust me, it wasn't him." You decide not to push the issue, but you aren't sure you believe him. 

"Take a shower, I'll go grab you another set of clothes. I'm sure Cas has extra in his room," you say once you've reached John's door. 

"Or you could join me," John offers with a smirk. He grasps your hips and pulls you in close.

"You nearly died," you comment as you drape your arms over his shoulders.

"Nothing like a near death experience to put you in the mood for a little aggressive cuddling," he responds, making you laugh.

You've been craving this ever since your dreams about him ceased and despite having more pressing things to attend to, you don't want to refuse him.

"Take a shower," you repeat before adding, "While I'm grabbing you clean clothes, I'll look for a condom." John grins before pulling you in for a kiss. 

When Constantine finally pulls away, you head to the room Cas normally uses when he stays with you. There are plenty of shirts and slacks to choose from so you grab a clean set from the closet before heading to Dean's room. It doesn't take you long to find his duffle bag and of course it contains a box of condoms along with all of the other essential hunting equipment. 

You grab one of the condoms from the box and head back to John's room, making sure to lock the door behind you. The water is still running when you get there. After laying the clothes over the back of a chair, you sit at the end of Constantine's bed and wait for him to finish showering. The longer you wait, the more nervous you get. 

Your sexual experience is practically limited to what's happened in your dreams. The last time you'd even attempted to have sex in real life, your hands burst into flames and the man ran for his life. What if you aren't as good in real life as you are in your dreams? What if you can't control yourself and you wind up hurting him? 

John pulls you out of your thoughts when he enters the room. A towel is wrapped around his waist; his exposed skin is flushed from the hot water. His hair, still damp, sticks out in all directions from where he had tried to dry it with a towel. 

"Fuck me," you whisper under your breath, but John still hears it. 

"That was the plan, Luv," he snarks, his smile fades as he examines you, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you answer, "I was just thinking." You stand as he walks closer to you. 

"What about?" he presses. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you in close. You run your hands up his chest, the hair coarse beneath your fingers. Leaning in, he presses kisses to the column of your neck as he waits for an answer.

"What if this doesn't go well?"

"We've done this so many times."

"Yeah, in dreams. I couldn't hurt you there; and what if I'm not as good as you dreamt?"

John looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. "I was honestly worried I'd disappoint you," he admits, pulling back to look at you. As cocky as he is, you're surprised he'd admit something like that. 

You cup his cheek and run your thumb along his cheek bone. One of John's hands slides up your back and tangles into your hair. 

"I trust you not to hurt me," he continues.

"That's pretty risky," you comment, "I don't even trust myself."

"What's life without a little risk?" he shrugs. You roll your eyes but before you can comment, John has captured your lips. John eases you into the kiss, making sure you’re comfortable before taking things further. When you’re both ready, John uses his free hand to unbutton your shirt. You decide to help him in order to make the process faster, wanting to finally feel his hands on your body.

The kiss isn't rough or rushed like you're used to. He's slow and gentle, as if he wants to make sure this isn't over too quickly. 

Once you're finally free of your clothing, John guides you onto his bed. He kisses his way down your body, lingering at your breasts before descending lower. 

"John, you don't have to," you say when he reaches your thighs. 

"Oh I want to, Luv," he answers, hands encouraging you to spread your legs for him. You do what he wants, allowing him to settle down between your legs. 

John looks up at you through his lashes as he leaves a long lick along your folds. When he reaches your clit, he sucks the sensitive bud between his lips. You groan at the sensation, hips bucking up in search of more friction. 

"John," you gasp as he slides two fingers into you and curls them against your g-spot. Your head falls back against the pillows and you reach down, twisting your fingers into his hair. John's free hand grasps your hip in an attempt to keep you still as he works wonders with his tongue. 

He hums when you tug his hair, sending vibrations straight to your core. Heat begins to build within you, a knot coiling in your belly. John licks, kisses, and sucks as his fingers pump in and out of you. It's agonizingly slow compared to what you've experienced with him before.  

His ministrations work you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. You can feel the flames begging to lick at your fingertips. Pulling your hand away from Constantine, you fight to hold them back. John can tell that you're struggling. He stops everything, just as you're about to come. 

"Constantine," you complain.

"Just breathe, Luv," he encourages. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and will the heat away. John waits for your breathing to even out before continuing. You moan as he delves his tongue into you, doing your best to keep your hands to yourself. 

Given the stimulation from your near orgasm, it doesn't take long for John to work you to the edge again. You moan his name, back arching from the bed as the knot in your stomach pulls tight. Constantine hums, his nose nudging your clit. He replaces his tongue with two fingers, curling them in a come hither motion that sends you tumbling over the edge. 

His name falls from your lips as the knot in your stomach snaps. Waves of pleasure wash over you. You keep your hands fisted as you come undone, part of you still focusing on keeping the flames at bay. John’s free hand reaches up to interlace with one of yours. He squeezes gently as he works you through your high, praising you as he laps up everything you have to give him. 

"As good as you remember?" John asks as he licks his fingers clean, apprehension beneath that cocky smirk of his. 

"Different," you answer, "but I'm not complaining. Come here."

John places one last kiss to your hip before sitting up on his knees. You watch as he pulls the towel away from himself and discards it on the floor. A moan escapes your lips when you notice his cock, thick and hard, precum glistening on the tip.

He settles himself above you and kisses your lips, his hand twisting into your hair. While he's distracted, you wrap your leg around his waist and flip him so that he's flat on his back. You straddle his lap, placing a hand on each of his shoulders to keep him pinned against the bed. 

Constantine grins, his eyes flooded with lust. His hands roam your body, tracing your curves and caressing your breasts, as he waits for you to take things further. The way he touches you, it’s as if he’s committing each and every inch of you to memory for the first time. Reaching over to the nightstand, you grab the condom and tear it open. John's hips rock up towards you as you roll the condom over his length. 

You watch John draw his bottom lip between his teeth as you line his cock up with your entrance. His eyes flutter closed and he groans as you sink down onto him, savoring every inch. You can't stop the noises that escape you as John stretches and fills you. 

"That's it, Luv," Constantine praises, his fingers grasping your hips tight enough to leave bruises.

John squirms beneath you, fighting the urge to thrust up into you and set the brutal pace he's used to. You whisper his name as you begin to move, lifting and lowering yourself above him. With one hand braced against the headboard and the other against John's chest, you set a slow pace. You can tell John wants more, but he hasn't reached the point of begging for it yet. 

One of Constantine's hands moves from your hip and he uses his thumb to press circles against your clit. The sensation causes you to fall out of rhythm, your walls tightening around him. You can feel his cock throbbing. He lifts his hips in time with your pace, silently urging you to move faster. 

"Fuck," John mutters under his breath as your walls flutter around him. He sits up, pulling you in close and pressing his lips hard against yours. 

You pick up your pace, riding him harder and faster. The knot begins to reform in your stomach. One of John's hands fists into your hair, the other grasping at you anywhere he can reach. You drag your nails down his back, causing him to groan in pleasure. 

The way John kisses you takes your breath away. Being this close, intertwined with one another, you can feel the flow of energy between you more now than ever. You’ve never felt so connected to someone else and you lose yourself to the feeling. Your momentary loss of focus causes flames to erupt at your fingertips. 

"Shit, John, I'm sorry," you gasp, quickly pulling your hands away from his back and smothering the flames, "I knew this was a bad -"

"Do it again," Constantine interrupts. He grasps your hip and encourages you to keep moving. You look at him with a furrowed brow. "Please," John pleads.

You watch him carefully as you let a flame burn on your pointer finger. John shivers as you bring the flame to his chest and begin tracing a random pattern. You check to make sure there aren't any burn marks left behind before sliding your hand to his back. 

"Don't stop," he encourages. 

It doesn't take long to fall back into a quick pace that has you racing toward your second orgasm. John is close too. You can feel his cock throbbing with the need for release as you grow tighter and tighter around him. 

One of his thumbs finds your clit again and this time the sensation sends you tumbling over the edge. 

"John!" you exclaim as the knot in your stomach snaps. You shudder in his arms as your walls clamp down hard around him. John follows you shortly after. He shouts your name as his cock pulses, spilling himself into the condom. 

John buries his face into the crook of your neck as begins to recover from his high. His heavy breaths fan across your shoulder. 

"What was that?" you ask breathlessly. 

"Better than anything I could've dreamt up," John replies. 

"No, I mean the fire. Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" you press. 

"It didn't hurt a bit, Luv. Actually, it felt good; almost like a tingling sensation."

Pulling back, you rest your forehead against his. You want to stay right where you are, wrapped up in John’s arms, but you know you can’t.

"We should get dressed. Crowley might be here," you murmur, though getting dressed is the last thing you want to do right now.

"Or we could stay here for round two," John suggests, "Your brothers seem capable enough. If this Crowley bloke has any information I'm sure they'll know what to do with it."

"As much as I'd love a second round, I can't let Sam and Dean solve all of my problems for me," you counter. John lies back against the pillows and groans as you move from his lap and begin grabbing your clothes from the ground.  “Besides, I have questions and I want to be the one to ask them. If those monsters were here because of me or my magic, then I’m putting my brothers and you in danger. I need to find a way to protect you.”

“We’re all in danger all the time,” John comments, running his hands through his disheveled hair, “It isn’t your job to protect everyone.”

“I called you here somehow without trying. What if I accidentally drew those things here too?” you ask, “If this is happening because of me, it’s my responsibility to find out why. Please don’t fight me on this, John.”

Tags: @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese, @manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @ sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd, @crowleysgrl, @21-kacie, @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard, @gettinjoyful,  @super-who-lock-is-here, @woman-of-letters-legacy

Fic:

As the day comes to a close, you help Crowley pick out a hotel to stay at. Crowley suggests something fancy, of course. You argue that it doesn’t matter so long as it’s a safe place to sleep. In the end, Crowley wins you over and you opt for a hotel in the modern art district. It doesn't matter that you don't have a reservation, there happens to be a vacant room; though you aren't quite sure if it was by chance or by Crowley's doing. 

The room is exquisite. A large black, glass chandelier hangs over a massive bed covered in a black and burgundy duvet. Elegantly carved wooden furniture decorates the room. The bed sits before three large, arched windows. Sheer curtains cascade from the ceiling, allowing for a view of the canal outside. 

"It's beautiful," you comment. You lay the rose Crowley had given you down on the nightstand before exploring every inch of the beautifully decorated room. 

"Only the best for the Queen of Hell," Crowley comments. He watches as you test out the bed, happy to be off your feet after a day of exploring.

You extend a hand to Crowley, beckoning him to you, but you're interrupted by a knock at the door. Crowley grumbles, but goes to answer the door anyway. A member of the hotel staff hands him a pen and a card before wishing the two of you a good night. 

"What is it?" you ask. 

"Apparently breakfast is a la carte," Crowley answers, much to your confusion.

"Why would I want to eat a cart?" you question, making Crowley laugh.

"No, it means we get to choose what we want from this list," he explains. The list is extensive; there must be 60 or 70 items. 

You go through the list with Crowley, asking him to describe the dishes and picking out the things that sound the best. Crowley picks out what he wants as well before snapping his fingers and sending the card off to wherever it needs to be.

"If you're able to use grace, do you think I can use your powers?" you question. 

"I don't see why not," Crowley answers.

"How does it work?" you ask. 

"I suppose I just picture what I want, snap my fingers, and things change," Crowley answers with a shrug. 

You tilt your head in confusion. If he wanted you to love him, why didn't he simply snap his fingers and force you to develop feelings for him? It sounded like something a selfish demon would do, but maybe you'd misjudged him.

"What's wrong?" Crowley asks, examining your expression. 

"Nothing," you answer, "Just deciding on a nightgown." You close your eyes and picture a short, silk and lace nightgown from your wardrobe and snap your fingers. 

Much to your dismay, nothing happens. 

"Don't worry, it took me a while to get the hang of grace," Crowley encourages, "try again." 

You try again, and again, and again. Each snap of your fingers becomes increasingly more frustrating. Crowley can see your irritation. 

"Stop," Crowley says, "Don't be so hard on yourself, Love." He takes hold of both your hands, forcing you to stop for a moment.

"I don't understand why you can use my power, but I can't use yours," you complain. 

"Don't try to force it," Crowley says as he brushes your hair behind your ear, "The first time I used grace, it was by accident. Maybe you have to let it happen naturally." You sigh, accepting that Crowley might be right.

"Do you think you could help me practice?" you ask, "I could give you tips on how to use grace in return, though you seem like you've done fairly well on your own." 

"You trust me enough to tell me how angels' powers work?" Crowley asks, "You're not afraid I would use that knowledge against Heaven?"

"You signed a treaty and I would hope that you're a man of your word," you comment.

"A demon of my word, but yes, I am," Crowley agrees.

"Besides, we're bonded, or nearly bonded anyway," you continue as you turn his left hand over and run your fingers along the scar on his palm, “Mates should be able to trust one another.”

Reaching up, you cup his cheek and lean in for another kiss. Crowley closes the distance and when your lips meet, you find that the kiss is even more pleasurable than the one earlier. As the kiss deepens, you find yourself wanting more. Just like the need for sleep and taste for food had never occurred for you before, this desire is new to you as well, but your body is all too ready to cave to it. 

In one swift move, you straddle Crowley's lap. His hands grasp your waist as your fingers twist into his hair. Crowley groans as you grind yourself against him, the friction giving you a pleasurable sensation you hadn't expected. You instantly crave more, but as you try to move your hips Crowley holds you still and pulls back from the kiss. 

"Y/N, stop," Crowley says, "I know what you're trying to do."

"I’m not trying to do anything," you say, though you know how this is going to end. Despite doing your best to follow Marion’s advice Crowley had seen through you. You try to reignite the kiss, but Crowley pulls back.

"Earlier, in the gondola, what was that?" Crowley asks. 

"A kiss," you state the obvious. 

"But why did you kiss me?" he questions. 

"I wanted to," you answer.

"Because of the treaty," Crowley adds. 

"Well maybe that was my initial intention, but -"

"And now, this is because of the treaty too?" Crowley interrupts. 

"No, I - for some reason, I want this," you say, unsure of how else to phrase your desire.

"For some reason," Crowley repeats, laughing to himself. He guides you from his lap and stands from the bed. The feeling of rejection floods back, only this time it hurts more than the first.

"Wait," you say, reaching out to grab his wrist, "I want you; not because of the treaty." 

"Then why?" Crowley asks.

"I - I don't know," you answer truthfully. 

"That isn't enough," Crowley tells you. He pulls his wrist from your hand.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, "Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not angry and you have nothing to apologize for," Crowley says as he walks toward an armchair in the corner of the room.

"We don't have to have sex if you don't want, but could we at least share the same bed?" you question, "It's more than big enough for both of us and I can stay to my side if you want me to. Please?"

Crowley hesitates for a moment, but decides to grant your request. He snaps his fingers, changing you both into sleeping clothes before heading to one side of the bed and pulling back the sheets to lie down. You crawl into the other side of the bed, lying down to face Crowley. He lies with his back to you.

Tags: @supernaturalymarvel, @quantumcheese,@manda-sis​, @n-octicolor, @basmaraafat, @crystalleeannluvsu, @caffeine-nights, @asgardianvamp21, @gabrielandcastiel, @letsdisneythings, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @sammylynne321, @lenawiinchester, @surfin-the-sun, @dustycelt, @sudoku-and-heavy-metal, @roxy-davenport, @novakfandoms, @grace-for-sale, @gayspacenerd

Fic:

Weeks have passed and you connection to John and Lucifer is still a mystery. Constantine has settled into the bunker and practically become part of the team despite the tension between him and Dean. You'd shown John around and given him permission to read anything he wanted. John seemed mildly impressed by what the bunker has to offer and spent his spare time reading up on how to perform spells he'd never encountered before. Dean, still unwilling to trust the newcomer, watches John's every move and waits for him to make a mistake. 

Most of John's time is spent with you, whether you be in the bunker, out shopping, or on a hunt. He's told you all about life on his Earth, but whether or not you believe he's friends with a group of mettahumans who travel through time and space is still up in the air. You have to admit though, you enjoy hearing tales of their adventures together. 

Since moving in, Constantine has helped you clear a room in the bunker to use as a practice room. The walls are concrete and the door is metal, so there's no chance of burning anything down. You've picked up a few of John’s minor healing spells, but learning to keep your innate abilities in check has still been a challenge. Those spells had been easy to the one Constantine is currently trying to teach you. According to him, the spell should allow you to control the shape of the flames and keep them from spreading across your body unless you want them to. 

"Remember to breath, Luv," John reminds you as you slowly allow the flames to creep up your bare arms the way a snake would climb a tree, "You're in control of the flames, not the other way around." Even in the relative safety, John is still afraid to touch you. He stands at a safe distance from you now, the sleeves of his white button up shirt rolled up to his elbows, hands in his pockets as he watches you.

Closing your eyes, you continue chant the spell Constantine had taught you under your breath. You do your best to ignore the tugging sensation Lucifer is causing and focus on the words. The flames reach your upper arms - the furthest they've traveled under your control - before they sputter and go out. 

"Damn it!" you shout, exasperated. 

"It's alright, Luv," John encourages, "You're doing really well. You were saying the words perfectly." 

"Then why can't I control it better?" you ask, frustrated with yourself, "I was born with this power, I should be able to control it by now. I don't understand, first you show up and I burst into flames. Now I feel more powerful than ever and yet I can't even get the flames to spread up my arms."

"Magic isn't easy to master, Luv," John says, "Give it time. In the meantime we can work on something else." 

"I don’t want to work on something else. I want to be able to do what I did before, but I want to be able to control it. Combusting like that saved my life. If I can control it, I might be able to save other people too," you tell him. You're angry at yourself for not being able to do better. Your powers could be the difference between life and death for yourself and the people you love, but like this you feel useless. 

"Look what it did to you, Y/N," John comments, "I think we need to take baby steps before you attempt something like that again."

"'Baby steps,'" you scoff, "I've been taking baby steps my whole life and I know I'm capable of so much more." 

"I know you are too," John agrees, "but if you go too far now, if you get hurt . . . I've seen too many deaths because of magic, because of me. People want more power and when they get it, they destroy themselves. They're consumed by it. I know you're not asking for more. I know you're only asking to control the magic you already have, but please don't push yourself too hard. Learning magic takes time whether it's innate or not, I reckon. You'll get to where you want eventually, I promise, but please don't lose yourself in the process. Don't let yourself become consumed by it."

Taking a deep breath, you nod in agreement. He's right, but the situation is no less vexing. You wish he would wrap his arms around you and hold you the way he used to in your dreams. The dreams had stopped completely since John had come into your life and now the fact that he's so close and yet so far only adds to your frustration. 

"Let's take a break now, yeah?" Constantine suggests, "Maybe your brothers have found another case." 

"Fine," you sigh. 

John follows you as you head for the door. Just as your hand touches the handle, the lights in the room turn red and the alarm sounds. 

"What the bloody Hell is that?" John asks. 

"Something's gotten in," you answer before motioning for John to stay quiet. Cracking the door open, you take a look one way down the hall, then the other. The hall is empty. 

You tiptoe to your room, John right on your heels, and grab your angel blade before heading out in search of your brothers. Red lights illuminate the empty halls, the alarm making your heart race. Then you hear scratching, claws on concrete. A low growl emanates from a massive dog as it rounds the corner. Its eyes burn with white hot flames as it watches you, teeth bared in a snarl. Its white fur is dusted with ash, making the tips a dull gray. You've never seen anything like it. If you hadn't encountered hell hounds before, that's how you would describe the creature in front of you. 

"John?" you question, hoping he knows how to deal with this creature. 

"Don't make any sudden moves," is the only advice he has to offer.

The hound barks and snarls as it takes a step closer to you. You and John take a step back, keeping your distance from the beast. John begins chanting behind you. The hound snaps its jaws as you bring flames to the palm of your free hand. You grip the angel blade tightly in your other hand. 

You hear a crash and shouts from somewhere near the kitchen. The sound distracts the hound for a moment, just long enough for John to hurl a fireball at the creature. The flames wash over the hound in a wave and ripple through its fur. The creature shakes the way a wet dog would, but the flames have left the creature unharmed.

A string of expletives leave John's lips as the hound crouches down. In desperation, he steps in front of you and begins another spell. A portal begins to open, but before the spell is complete the hound has leapt on John. Its claws tear through fabric and flesh, blood seeping into John's clothes.

"No!" you scream, throwing yourself at John's attacker. You push the angel blade into the monster's back, but the creature doesn't flinch. Flames spew from the fresh wound as you withdraw the blade. You stab it twice more to no avail. As a last attempt, you try to push the creature away from John. The flames spread from your palm to the monster and it howls in pain. It sprints away, shaking and whimpering, but the flames continue to spread. The hound is engulfed and within seconds it's reduced to ashes. 

You drop to your knees beside Constantine and smother the flame in your hand. Pressing your hands to his chest, you try to stop the bleeding. Healing spells spill from your lips as you desperately try to save him. The thought of what might happen if you touch him doesn't even cross your mind. Your hands glow a dim orange as a gentle warmth flows into Constantine, his wounds beginning to heal. The alarm finally shuts off and the lights go back to normal allowing you to concentrate better.

"Y/N?" Constantine asks weakly as his hand comes up to cover yours, "You're not on fire." 

“No, I’m not,” you say, confirming the obvious, “and you’re not dead.” 

“No, I’m not,” he mimics with a smirk. John groans as he props himself up. You do your best to support him. “Are you all right, Luv?” Constantine asks. Timidly, he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, leaning into his touch as he cups your cheek, “How about you?” 

“Just peachy,” he answers.

John runs his thumb along your cheekbone and leans in closer to you. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the fact that he hasn’t touched you since you’ve met, but you can’t fight the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you. Grabbing his tie, you pull him to you, your lips pressing to his in a rough kiss. John’s hand twists into your hair as he deepens the kiss. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you easily grant him access. 

You hadn’t heard his footsteps approaching, but Dean’s voice makes you jump. “Is now really the fucking time?” Dean questions as you pull away from Constantine, “Sam and I could’ve used your help with the fire goblin things that were just running around the kitchen.

“Y/N and I were dealing with our own problems, Mate,” John says. You push yourself up off the floor and offer him a hand. 

“Is everyone all right?” Sam’s voice echoes through the halls. 

“Oh, they’re more than fine,” Dean shouts back. You roll your eyes.

“What the Hell?” Sam asks as he rounds the corner and steps in the pile of ash. 

“Some sort of weird hell hound with fire for eyes,” you tell him, “Nothing like I’ve seen before.” 

“I’ve never seen anything like it in my world either,” John adds, “but I can’t be sure that it didn’t follow me here.” You begin to wonder if the creatures had come from Lucifer Morningstar’s world and from the look on Dean’s face he’s wondering the same thing.

“The angel blade wouldn’t kill it,” you continue.

“Same with those goblin things Dean and I fought,” Sam tells you, “They just disappeared.”

“So how did you manage to turn it to ash?” Dean asks you.