[muffled expletives]

Nudge Theory

Characters: CastielXReader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2238 (Act I)

A/N: A five act mini-series. The reader and Castiel must work together to solve the curious case of the missing Winchesters. Fluff, smut, and a plot for kicks. It was originally going to be three acts, then I got invested because Cas is adorable. Now it’s outlined for five acts. I’m not sorry.

(not my GIF)

Nudge [verb] –

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

“Sam? Dean?” Your voice reverberated off the tiled walls of the sprawling bunker, announcing your arrival, tone becoming tinny when they failed to respond, “The door was unlocked. I let myself in.” Feet clanging on the metal staircase, you endeavored to make your presence known - the last thing you wanted to do was catch experienced well-equipped potentially trigger-happy hunters off guard in their own home. You made your way over to the map table, tossing your bag on a chair, eyes roaming the spacious room for any signs of life, “Guys?” Silence greeted your ears. Grumbling a muffled expletive, you dug the phone out of your pocket, scanning for any new messages, scrolling back to confirm that Sam’s text yesterday did indeed ask you to meet them here, in Lebanon, in the bunker, to ride back up on a big case. You owed them more than you generally cared to acknowledge in their presence, and dropped everything to show, no questions asked - and they had the audacity to be somewhere else when you arrived. Breath puffing out your cheeks, you noted with amused annoyance that you’d never been stood up by two men at the same time, let alone brothers. You hastily typed a where-the-hell-are-you-it-better-not-be-buying-beer text to Sam, muttering under your breath, “Freaking Winchesters.” Your finger hesitated over the send button, soft footfalls heralding the approach of someone in the hall. Shoving the phone back into your pocket, trembling adrenaline-fueled fingers instinctively brushed the cool metal of the pistol tucked under your arm. Releasing the safety, you withdrew the weapon, backing up to the stairs, steadying your aim at the doorway, “Who’s there?”

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Muffled Expletives - An Everlark Drabble

I love a lazy Saturday morning, especially when said morning finds me in my current state. This morning Peeta and I spent our entire morning in bed completely wrapped up in each other, crawling out from under the covers only to work each other up into a passionate frenzy as we brushed our teeth and wash each other off in the bathtub.  

“Weren’t we supposed to be putting the crib together today?” Peeta’s hands creep up my side brushing the side of my breast before moving further on to cup my face.  Soon a tender kiss has lighted upon my forehead.

I can’t help but stretch under his caresses.  “Yes”, I say. “And you’re painting the nursery today too.”

“Well, the morning is pretty much over so if you still want to have the room finished today, I need to get  started.” Peeta moves to get out of the bed and I immediately miss the warmth of his skin pressed up against mine, but he’s right, we can’t spend all day in bed.  

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