#Archangel Gabriel imagine

[profeyandere]

𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 ─── ☾ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐘

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɴꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.9ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇʟ ɢᴀʙʀɪᴇʟ / ᴊɪᴍ x ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ 2

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

"You can't put the supreme archangel on me because you're going for a walk around Edinburgh!"

Your strong and powerful voice echoed between the enormous and high walls of Aziraphale's bookstore, feeling how a wave of heat ran through your body from the tips of your fingers to the highest hair that decorated your head and settled intermittently on it, causing your face to turn a heavy reddish tone as if that were a sign that you were literally about to explode. It was a strange sensation. You weren't even able to describe it in words, but you knew for sure that it couldn't be good, much less because your face had turned that powerful redness that caught the attention of the angel and the demon who had given you convened at the well-known bookstore in the Soho neighborhood. The idea that you were a 'known' demon to both entities did not make you friends, nor did it make you have a close relationship, much less because of what you really were, and that made you an enemy for at least one of them; With the demon, you had forged nothing more than a relationship of respect, but the angels had always been faithful enemies of your kind and you had to avoid as much as possible showing any type of affection or respect for those of their kind. Perhaps you had known Crowley and Aziraphale for longer than you would care to admit, if you also wanted to count the few years you had been working in Heaven with them before the revolution against the Creator occurred, but while you had been in Hell acting like the demon you were, you had lost any kind of contact with the angel and restricted that belonging to the demon because you considered it quite inappropriate to have a close relationship with anyone of your own species, even if they were nice enough to know even your deepest secrets.

"Please, my dear, this is truly important," Aziraphale said, being the brave one who had dared to take the floor after making sure how your aura, completely distorted by the anger you felt, became clearer to him again. Maybe you wouldn't be full of love, demons couldn't feel that in themselves according to earthly gossip, but at least it wasn't something so bad that you were going to explode. "Take care of Gabriel, of Jim, for a couple of days. It won't be long, and before you know it, we'll be here, and you can go back to your routine demonic tasks."

Your flashing yellowish, golden eyes stopped on the chubby figure of the angel, slowly raising your lower lip while a growl emerged from the back of your throat and came out as a soft sigh that was lost in the air. It was obvious how irritable and sensitive you were at that moment as if at any second you could attack them or yell at them in such a way that you would attract the attention of any living being that was inhabiting the face of the Earth.

"Will I also have to babysit the Inspector Constable who has been looking out the window since I entered the bookstore and has followed me here like an abandoned puppy, or will I only have to cover the basic needs of the big guy who is upstairs?" You asked, uncrossing your arms as a heavy sigh escaped between your lips, trying to calm the nerves that both beings had made you. "Furthermore, I cannot perceive him correctly. How am I supposed to take care of him when I can't see him well or my memories are blurred when there's something about him? I didn't even know he was in front of me when I came to tell you about Lord Beelzebub's order."

"Don't worry, my adorable demon, because we have changed a couple of things about the little miracle to make it easier for you to recognize him," Crowley intervened, placing his large hands on your shoulders, squeezing them playfully before gently patting your back to encourage you. "Remember that this is because the little angel has heard some nonsense coming from Gabriel's mouth and has assumed that it has to do with his memory fading."

"It's a clue," the white-haired man stressed as he raised his voice a little more to point out with more force the reason for his early departure from London. "It may seem stupid, but he's been singing that little song all morning, and thanks to my landlord I've discovered that there's a place in Edinburgh that has problems with their jukebox. It seems that, regardless of the song chosen, it always changes to the same one that Gabriel was singing."

You couldn't help but raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"It's not the best clue, but it's something," the redhead murmured, sighing and removing his hands from you, returning to stand next to his friend. "So, we leave you in charge of Gabriel and the bookstore."

"Indeed, prevent people from buying my books, and I will compensate you in some way in the future," the one with blue eyes agreed, making you frown slightly at his words. "Please be very patient with him. He doesn't remember anything."

"I already had patience once in Heaven, I don't promise to be so stupid as to continue being so while I'm on the side of Hell," you murmured, ignoring Aziraphale's look of fear and Crowley's small, amused smile. "Have your adopted child come down, and I'll see what I can do with him."

And what a surprise you were when you finally met up with the missing man shortly after the dynamic duo left the store, who was now Jim, which was short for James, which in turn was short for Gabriel, according to what he said. His appearance was so similar to the one you remembered and, at the same time, so different from the one you had seen him in as if you somehow knew that in front of you was the egocentric and cold supreme archangel who had so often teased you while you were working in Heaven and scolded you as he found you at some point during your stay on Earth, but at the same time you felt like you were inhabiting the library with a completely different person than the one you knew; It was all too strange, you simply didn't have words to explain that. A small beginning of beard had begun to appear on his profiled face, now slightly wider due to the slight weight he had gained in recent days thanks to the large amount of hot chocolate he had been drinking thanks to his repeated requests to Aziraphale since he had tasted that sweet drink, while his clothing was completely opposite to what he had once worn. Now, he seemed homely, a man full of peace and a good angel.

When you saw him, you almost hit him. This happened because you thought he was an evil double twin or something similar, mainly because he was completely identical to his angelic version except for the violet glow in his eyes, which he had not shown even though Aziraphale and Crowley had mentioned that in very moments punctually he seemed to come to his senses when he remembered events in biblical history in which he had been forced to intervene in one way or another; It was as if God communicated with both the angel and the demon through him. Going back to the same point you had mentioned before: Gabriel and Jim seemed to be the same person, only he had no memories of what he once was, and that meant that you now had to take care of a grown man who simply didn't understand how the world, gravity or electricity worked. You didn't understand much about both things either, you had not been in charge of the creation of the planets, and neither had it been in your mind to create the power plants and the distribution of it throughout the houses.

Although your first interactions were quite awkward, Jim made sure of something that he wasn't too happy about, even if it took him a whole day to realize it.

"Why do she keeps avoiding me? If we already know each other."

His voice, low and soft, echoed between the walls of his small room and, although Jim knew that he was with you in that huge store and that it was very unlikely that you would not hear him, he did not understand the reason why you had avoided him so much. It was as if you were afraid of someone or you were seeing a ghost. For him there was no other alternative. Although Aziraphale and Crowley reacted in a similar way upon meeting him, with surprise and slight fear, your gaze on him was different. He could tell by the dull glow in your eyes and your restless fingers that drummed on any nearby surface, as if you had the intention of saying something to him every time you were in the same room. He had seen you before, and not only did he sense it because he had literally done it before, the same day Mr. Fell's friends arrived at the store, but he recognized you from something before. He had seen you before, he had recognized you from somewhere else, and he had had a warm feeling that spread through his chest every time his blue eyes turned towards you as if a wave of sweetness and warmth settled inside him in a very different way than the way hot chocolate did and subsequently exploded in his belly; It was too strange to explain, but he really liked being around you because of the way you made him feel, even if you didn't do anything in particular to make him feel like his body was about to explode into fifty different pieces.

It was such a warm feeling, so nice, that he wanted to have it all day.

Determined to find you and face his thoughts and feelings once and for all, he stood up from the bed with a slight start, twisting his entire body and moving to sit up and finally stand up, ignoring the fact that the sheets that had been around him as he was lying down and fell to the floor with a thud muffled by the carpet. He walked around the upper floor as if the bookstore had been his since he bought it, as if he somehow knew it like the back of his hand and recognized every corner and every step he had to take to avoid knocking over any of the stacks of books that had been piling up as the days went by while Aziraphale and Crowley had been away from London. To his gratifying surprise, a soft, barely perceptible melody seemed to bathe the tent. A male voice overshadowed by a more angelic, sweeter, and more wonderful one caused his heart to jump inside his chest, so he did not take long to walk with impetus and speed towards the place from which said sound came. He knew it was you, deep in his heart he knew it was you. And sure enough, there you were, he hadn't made a mistake. You were sitting in Aziraphale's old chair while one of the books he had been organizing in the morning rested softly in your hands while the time melody coming from the record player made him smile softly knowing that this was the song he had been singing that same day unconsciously.

"Is that the disk that Mr. Fell took this morning?"

The sudden sound of Gabriel's voice made you come to your senses, causing the music on the record to quickly stop and you to close the book in your hands tightly, slowly diverting your golden gaze towards his barely perceptible bluish one. The darkness enveloped him. You could barely make out his masculine features, but you knew that he was there, in that dark corner, watching you. You swallowed hard for an answer, but simply grunted and then gently placed the book on the desk in Aziraphale's office, glancing sideways at the man who had taken a couple of steps for you to see, being as stealthy as the angel had mentioned. He had started thinking about putting a rattle on Jim or something similar so he wouldn't be scared, but you just needed that heavenly and playful sound to be able to disappear from Gabriel's sight as soon as possible; you had no need to see him because of the various feelings he evoked in you and the memories that resurfaced after so many years.

"Mr. Fell took one of the many records that Maggie has," you commented, seeing how his expression changed to one of confusion that deep down caused a feeling of tenderness to appear in you, mainly because she had tilted her head as if a confused puppy would be treated. "Maggie is a woman who has a record store next door. I asked her for a copy so I could listen to it."

"Great, I like it," he murmured before approaching the gramophone to try to find out why nothing was heard if the device was still working. "Why doesn't it sound? Is it broken?"

Your sparkling gaze lingered on his tall, broad Gabriel's body, lingering on the breadth of his shoulders and the scoop of his back, without specifically answering his question. Those had been some of the few words that you had exchanged with him and, although you had noticed his constant need to be close to you to be able to talk or simply be in the same space as you, you were always looking for a way to get out of it, whether it was leaving the bookstore for coffee or hiding in the record store, even transforming into the little bat that your demonic form allowed you and keeping yourself out of his sight by hiding in the darkest and most remote places of the bookstore; It wasn't the best way to act, especially having an amnesiac in your care, but you didn't want to suffer more pain from being around him. Jim, or Gabriel, turned to look at you, and, again, that warm and pleasant feeling settled in his chest. He didn't know what you were doing to him with that look, but he liked it.

"It's not broken. I've just removed the sound," you said before snapping your fingers, and the soft bells that were heard from the song began to flood the room again, causing a smile full of fascination to appear on the man's lips again. "You should be sleeping, Jim."

"I couldn't sleep," he indicated, walking slowly towards the sofa that was in front of the chair you were sitting on, letting himself fall heavily on the furniture before leaning forward slightly and staring at you as if trying to figure out what you were thinking. Thanks to the light of the moon, the stars, and the street lamps, he could see your expression full of confusion and slight irritation. "Why do you avoid me so much? Mr. Fell looks after me, Mr. Anthony looks after me, but you avoid me. Why?" “

I think Crowley does anything but worry about you,” you murmured in slight confusion at his statement. You really didn't expect him to confuse something as different as care and protection from hatred and irritation.

"Why do you avoid me so much? I just want you to answer that question for me."

His tone of voice seemed to be louder and more desperate than before, surprising you for it. For a second, you almost thought that Jim was truly Gabriel, as if from one moment to the next he had completely recovered his memory, but seeing his blue eyes only made you see that he was not there; Whatever Jim was, he wasn't Gabriel.

"Because you're just like someone I knew," you began, swallowing without really believing that you were willing to confess everything to him. "He was the dumbest, most self-centered, and ruthless being he could have ever met, but deep down, he was loving, tender, and caring."

Jim stared at you while you talked about that person he reminded you so much of. The soft smile that rested on your face while you talked about that man, whom you insulted every few seconds but then flattered as if he were the most beautiful creature in the entire galaxy, caused a smile to also settle on his face. He noticed how your shoulders loosened and relaxed as you talked about him, about Gabriel, about how you had met in a place very far from London, where for minutes it seemed only you existed in the immensity of the universe, observing with fascination the stars while others around you saw your close relationship as something disastrous that no creature beyond humans could feel; You described him with so much zeal, with so much affection, that he felt jealous deep down in his heart. "And does this song remind you of him?" Jim asked as he gently tilted his head, watching as you nodded gently and stretched your long legs towards him.

"I like it a lot. I think it is ideal for you."

“Yes,” you stated softly. "Every day, it's a gettin' closer."

"Going faster than a roller coaster," he continued, following the rhythm of the song as it resonated, gently extending his legs on the carpet to touch your completely black shoe with his slipper.

« And a love like yours would surely come their way, » thought an adorable fly fluttering gently above your heads.

[cas---2y5]

is this anything

[+ bonus awkward Sam]

[lokischickadee]

Them: are you a sam girl or a dean girl?

Me: neither

Them: oh so you are a castiel girl?

Me: close....

Them: who's girl are you then?

Me: I am Gabriel's girl!

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Y/N: Lucifer won’t come out of his room!

Gabriel: Just tell him I said something.

Y/N: Like what?

Gabriel: Anything factually incorrect.

Y/N, shrugging: If you say so.

Lucifer, arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

[supernaturalscribe67]

Destiny

Words: 7,528

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Male!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Slight Angst (if you squint), Language, Brotherly Drama/Teasing, Sexual Innuendos

Summary: (Y/N) Winchester never thought he would have to play a prominent role in the fight between Michael and Lucifer, but when Gabriel's attempt at convincing Sam and Dean to accept their destiny fails, (Y/N) is left pondering the situation at hand. What happens when Gabriel reveals the truth behind his disappearance from Heaven and his own role in the fight?

Heavily Inspired by S5.8 "Changing Channels"

Request:

Hey!! I was hoping you would be able to do this request.

It could feature hurt/comfort, angst, and fluff :)

Gabriel x Winchester!Reader

He could be trans or cis, up to you.

There was a younger Winchester brother, and with 3 full blooded Winchesters meant of course, a 3rd vessel. Gabriel's vessle. You both aren't keen on the idea of possession and end up falling for each other? Destiny had brought them together for battle but their hearts yearned for something else.

(something along those lines atleast)

:D

@genekies

A/N: I've sat here for the last ten minutes staring at the Summary because my brain is non-existent right now. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this! Sorry it's so late! I also hope you don't mind that I changed the 'younger' Winchester to a middle Winchester~ I enjoyed writing something cute and fluffy after that heavy story I posted! Feedback is appreciated!

~ Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“Son of a bitch.” 

“It’s him. It’s Doctor Sexy.” 

“Nutcracker!”

“I’ve got genital herpes.”

(Y/N) blamed himself for this. Why he thought any hunt he and his brothers did would be normal was beyond him. When was anything the Winchesters did ever normal?

He could count on one hand the number of times he’d encountered tricksters, none of them pleasant. Still, something about this trickster was different. Slight abnormalities in the realm of possibilities, Sam, Dean, and Castiel all agreed, Castiel seeming to know more than them, but unable to voice his thoughts before being whisked away by said ‘trickster���. From there, the Winchester brothers were tossed from TV show to TV show, enduring humiliation and awkward conversation. It wasn’t until Sam was transformed into the Impala that it clicked. 

It wasn’t a trickster. It was an angel. 

That was how they ended up in an abandoned warehouse, the angel stood in the center of a ring of Holy Fire. (Y/N) tried to hide the exhaustion on his face that resulted from their hectic escapades. What he would kill to go back to their motel, crawl under the scratchy covers, and go to sleep. 

“Where’s you get the Holy Oil?” The angel asked, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips. 

“Well, I guess you could say we pulled it out of Sam’s ass,” Dean replied, straight-faced. 

Sam clenched his jaw and sent a death glare towards him. (Y/N) snickered, earning him the same glare. He pressed his lips together, mumbled a faint ‘sorry’ under his breath, and turned his attention back towards the wannabe trickster. 

The smirk he had vanished. “Where’d I screw up?” He asked. 

“You didn’t,” Sam shook his head. “Nobody gets a jump on Cas like you did.” 

“It was the way you talked about Armageddon,” Dean explained. 

“Meaning?” The angel furrowed his brows. 

“Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they’re talking about their own family.” 

The angel looked away and lowered his head, a silent confirmation of their suspicions. 

“So, which one are you?” Sam cocked his head to the side. “Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?” 

(Y/N) bit the inside of his cheeks, lowering his head to hide the small smile that appeared. Despite the gravity of the situation, he had to admit that Sam’s question was a little funny. He blamed it on him being tired. He was quick to erase the expression off his face before lifting his head. The angel’s gaze shifted over to Sam, and he hesitated for a moment.

“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.” 

“The archangel?” Sam asked. 

“Guilty.” 

“Okay, Gabriel. How does an archangel become a trickster?” Dean questioned. 

Gabriel shifted. “I consider it my own, private Witness Protection. I skipped out of Heaven, got a face transplant, and carved out my own little corner of the world. Until you three screwed it up,” his tone was full of irritation. 

(Y/N), Sam, and Dean shared a glance, almost as if communicating telepathically with one another - something they had become accustomed to growing up. While they knew significant details about the conflict between the archangels Michael and Lucifer, it seemed, to them, that the situation ran a lot deeper than it originally appeared. 

“So, boys, now what?” Gabriel’s voice broke them out of their trance. “Are we just going to stare at each other for the rest of eternity?” 

Dean licked his lips. ‘Well, first of all, you’re going to bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him.” 

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, or we’re going to dunk you in some Holy Oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel.” 

Gabriel clenched his jaw, looking over at Sam, then at (Y/N). All of them shared the same serious expression. Poking his tongue into his cheek, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Shuffling could be heard behind the trio as they turned their heads to see a disheveled Castiel. His hair was more ruffled than usual, and a small cut ran across the bridge of his nose. Blood was splattered on the collar of his trenchcoat. He stumbled slightly. 

“Cas, you okay?” (Y/N) asked. 

“I’m fine,” Castiel replied, his icy gaze locked on Gabriel. “Hello, Gabriel.” 

Gabriel lowered his hand, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled tightly. “Hey, bro. How’s the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful,” Gabriel’s tone was harsh. 

The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. It was obvious that there was more going on in Heaven than the Winchesters were led to believe. Multiple sides mean multiple stories. Who knows what really happened? 

“Alright, let’s get out of here. Sam, (Y/N)?” Dean slowly started to step towards the exit. 

Sam was the first to move, while (Y/N) seemed hesitant. In the end, he, too, turned his back on Gabriel and made his way towards his brothers. Castiel soon followed. 

“No,” Gabriel muttered. “Okay…hey, guys, so…” he stumbled over his words. “So what, huh? You’re just, you’re just gonna leave me here forever?” 

When the group reached the door, they all turned back to him. 

“No,” Dean began. “We’re not, because we don’t screw with people the way you do. And, for the record, this isn’t about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can’t be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family.” 

Gabriel opened his mouth, as if to object, but stopped himself. He lowered his head in shame, turning his back to them. Wordlessly, Dean looked back, spotting a fire alarm on the wall. He easily broke the glass surrounding the alarm and pulled the handle. A shrill, faded sound echoed within the broken building. As Gabriel looked up, the aged sprinkler system burst open, showering him with cold water. Gabriel gazed at them, his face filled with defeat. 

“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you,” Dean called out over the sound of the alarm. 

With that, Sam, Dean, and Castiel turned their backs one last time on Gabriel, walking out of the building. (Y/N), however, stayed put, his eyes locked onto Gabriel’s. He studied the look of hurt on his face, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt. A part of him wanted to say something, to turn around and provide him with some type of comfort. They didn’t know what Gabriel was going through, nor what had caused him to leave Heaven in the first place. Perhaps, all he needed was someone to be there. To allow him to be heard. (Y/N) could relate to that feeling. Alas, as the ring of Holy Fire began to dissipate, over the blaring sound of the alarm, he could hear the faint shout of his older brother calling out his name. (Y/N) looked at the warehouse door, the breeze from the early morning shifting his wetting hair, then back to Gabriel. For a moment, he cast an apologetic look his way before he, swiftly, left the building. 

*~*

A couple of weeks after the incident with Gabriel, (Y/N) couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts at bay. Although his brothers had all since left the interaction behind them, refocusing their attention on their odd hunting jobs, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the reminder of the expression on Gabriel’s face. He had taken the time to carefully consider what Gabriel had been going through, or what he had been through before he had left Heaven. Sure, he wasn’t aware of the extent of it all, but he could sure sympathize with how it felt to be stuck between his brothers during their spats. Sam and Dean never threatened the sanctity of Heaven over their problems, but still. 

(Y/N) had taken many walks since then, because sleep had been so easily unobtainable. On nights when Sam and Dean slept soundly on their motel room beds - or couch, depending on who lost in the coin toss - (Y/N) would slink out of the room into the night. Alternatively, in the morning, if sleep didn’t come after the first walk, he would go on another, ultimately stopping for breakfast on his way back to the motel to appease his brothers. 

Sam and Dean were none the wiser. 

On those walks, his mind would always shift to Gabriel and the predicament he was in. In a way, he disagreed with what Dean had said to Gabriel. But, with everything that was said by Gabriel, himself, he partially agreed with it as well. Why was Gabriel so adamant about Sam and Dean allowing Lucifer and Michael to take possession of them for a fight that he wasn’t even willing to fight himself? He felt so in the dark about the whole debacle. Although he wasn’t directly involved in it, he was still interested to know what the fate of his brothers could be. It was thoughts and questions like those that kept his mind racing in the early hours of the morning, making him unable to get an adequate amount of sleep. 

That night was no different. The three of them had traveled to a town along the East Coast, following the clues of a possible Wendigo. The case had just started, and the interviews and clues left much to be desired. They weren’t even close to pinpointing the approximate area in the nearby woodland where it could reside. Sam and Dean were running thin, and (Y/N) was no help. Not with the way his mind had been racing lately. It wasn’t like he could help it, though. He tried, he did, and a part of him couldn’t see how Sam and Dean were able to concentrate whilst everything was going on in Heaven. He had always envied them for their sense of focus, something he lacked greatly at times. When he started the walks, clearing his mind was his initial goal, but going out on his own, in the dead of night, only seemed to make his thoughts louder. 

The town was small, and barely had much of a park, just some cheap playground equipment that looked as if it needed to be updated and a small trail. (Y/N) was thankful for the benches that were laid along the path. Despite the park’s size, it had a beautiful view; a full panoramic of the deep, dark ocean past craggy cliffs, cut off by a steel fence. The ocean was loud and, despite the distance from the land to the sea, mist sprayed (Y/N)’s face faintly, painting his features with minuscule water droplets. He had worn a jacket that night. Even though it was surprisingly hot during the day, as soon as the sun dropped, the temperatures did as well. 

(Y/N) had been sat on the bench for close to an hour. If he had to guess, it was nearly midnight. Not once had he been able to keep Gabriel out of his mind. Gabriel, the fight, Sam, and Dean, all took turns at the forefront of his brain, but Gabriel won most of the time. He always drifted to the sad, kicked puppy-dog look he had before he left. He couldn’t imagine what Gabriel had to go through. (Y/N) thought Sam and Dean were impossible to be with all the time, but he couldn’t fathom being near Michael and Lucifer as much as Gabriel must have. He must have been quite burnt out. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” A voice jerked (Y/N) from his train of thought. 

(Y/N) jumped, eyes wide as he looked towards the direction of the voice. Stood, about a foot away from the bench, was Gabriel. His expression was soft, his brown hair partially damp, the locks illuminated slightly by the nearby street lamp. Once his heart rate began to return to normal, (Y/N) nodded and gestured towards the empty seat next to him. 

“Sure,” he mumbled. 

With a short nod, Gabriel shuffled over and sat down, leaning against the back of the bench. His legs were slightly spread and his hands were clasped together in his lap. For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, listening to the sound of the crashing waves from below. Even though Gabriel had done so much to the Winchesters as a part of his trickster ‘Witness Protection’, (Y/N) didn’t feel any resentment towards him, nor did he feel agitation, even with his proximity. A part of him thought he should be, that was how Dean would react, at least. Shouldn’t he be at least a little bit pissed? Perhaps it was the weeks of thinking, working the idea into his head that he and Gabriel could, potentially, have more in common than he originally thought. It could be that he was more forgiving than his brother. In the end, (Y/N) chalked it up to him being a great judge of character. 

“How did you find me?” (Y/N) broke the silence. 

“What?” Gabriel asked. 

“How did you find me? These symbols, or whatever, Cas put on my ribs were supposed to stop angels from being able to find me. Or did he just tattoo my ribs for nothing?” 

Gabriel let out a faint chuckle and shook his head. “I admit, you were hard to find. All I did, though, was follow the sound of your prayers. They were quieter than most, but they were still noticeable.” 

(Y/N) looked over at Gabriel, confused. “Prayers? I didn’t pray to you.” 

“I guess not technically. I know that wasn’t your intention half the time, but, every time you thought of me, asked those questions, made those statements, it was as if you did.” 

(Y/N) pursed his lips and gave a faint nod. “I see…”

They were, once again, engulfed in silence as they stared out onto the water. No one said anything. Surprisingly, it was peaceful.

“I guess I should be asking why you found me. Why are you here, Gabriel?” (Y/N) asked. 

Gabriel hesitated for a moment, fumbling with his fingers. “Look, I’m not good at this sort of thing, but…” he trailed. “I thought I should come here and apologize. For everything.” 

(Y/N) looked over at Gabriel as he placed his hands into his jacket pockets and leaned back against the bench. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Sam and Dean, too?” 

Gabriel snorted. “Are you kidding? Those two would probably stab me before I even had the chance to say anything.” 

(Y/N) smirked. “I guess you’re right. The fact that you were practically hounding them to accept being Michael and Lucifer’s vessels doesn’t help your case either.” 

“Yeah, I realized that I probably went about it the wrong way.” 

“Probably?” 

“Okay, I definitely went about it the wrong way.” 

“That’s putting it lightly.” (Y/N) mumbled. “Why the fight, Gabriel? I mean, why now?” 

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. “Michael and Luci have been going at it for centuries. Even before this fight, they were at each other’s throats half the time.” he began to rub his fingers together. “But, this fight…it wasn’t originally supposed to only be those two.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Gabriel stuttered before he stood up. Slowly, he began to pace back and forth in front of (Y/N), looking between the ground and his hands. “You know what it���s like, right? Your brothers are arguing about the dumbest things and they’ve been going at it for a while, getting a little carried away, so you have to step in and, um,” 

“Be the mediator?” 

“Yeah! You have to try and calm them down so they don’t kill each other?” 

“Well, yeah, I’ve had to do that plenty of times with Sam and Dean.” 

“Right. Back then, I had to do the same thing with Michael and Luci. Sometimes it worked, and other times, not so much. With this fight, that’s what I was supposed to do.” 

“Wait, this fight that they want to use Sam and Dean for? How’re you supposed to mediate that?” 

“I was just supposed to make sure they didn’t actually kill each other. Try to get them to talk it out. I’ve always been good at that, so it would only make sense that I would take a crack at it this go around. However, since they would be at their full power in their vessels, the last thing that needed to happen was for them to turn on me, kill me, and then each other. So, to make sure I had enough power, I, also, have to have a vessel.” 

Gabriel stopped pacing in front of him and finally faced him, his hands together in front of him. (Y/N) stared at him intently, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was as if Gabriel could see the gears working in his mind. If Michael needed a vessel, which was Dean, and Lucifer needed a vessel, which was Sam, then, that meant…

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Am I your vessel?” He breathed. 

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Gabriel smirked, although it wasn’t as confident as the one he had when he was covered by his trickster persona. 

(Y/N)’s mouth sat agape. He was gobsmacked. His lips moved up and down as he tried to form words, but his mind nor mouth would work. It all made sense, though. Why would Sam and Dean be the only vessels? Why had he never considered that he, too, was destined to be one? It was clear as glass, yet, the thought never crossed his mind. 

“You know, when you think about it, it kind of makes sense that you’re my vessel. I mean, you’re the mediator, I’m the mediator. You’re the middle child, I’m practically the middle child. There are, actually, a lot of similarities between you and me. So, it was a great pick,” Gabriel rambled, placing his hands on his hips.

(Y/N) help his hand up. “Gabriel, just…stop.” 

Gabriel looked down and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he pursed his lips. 

(Y/N) sat there and attempted to wrap his head around the whole situation. His thoughts were foggy and the front of his head was starting to pound. He reached his hands up and began to massage his temples. 

“So, what you’re saying,” (Y/N) let out a breathy chuckle. “Is that you, the archangel Gabriel, are supposed to use me as a mediator for your two power-hungry brothers who, may I remind you, are also archangels?” 

Slowly, Gabriel nodded. “Basically.” 

“And you think this is a good idea?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“What?” 

Gabriel sighed. “Look,” He returned to his spot on the bench next to (Y/N), his body now facing him. “The times when my mediation did work was when they had their smaller fights. Little bickers here and there. When Michael and Luci are really, really mad at each other, nothing can get between them. So, most likely, what would happen is I would need to get involved in the fight to stop them.” 

“Oh, God,” (Y/N) grumbled and placed his face into his hands.

“But, believe me, that is the last thing I want to do. I mean, Michael and Luci, they’re both strong on their own, but, if they were to team up against me for trying to stop them, even with you as my vessel, I don’t stand a chance. It would be two against one.” 

(Y/N) just nodded, running his hands down his face, his gaze returning to the cool, pounding waves. A chill ran down his spine. He hadn’t realized how cold he had gotten, what with the mix of wind and misty air.

“Why are you telling me this now?” He asked quietly. “Why wasn’t I told any of this before?” 

“Well, when I went off the grid, everyone just assumed that it was my way of backing out of the fight. In a way, I guess they were right.” 

“And back at the warehouse? Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I still had no intention of joining the fight. However, after what Dean had said to me…” Gabriel shook his head. “I realized that he was right. I am a coward. I tried to push your brothers into accepting their roles as vessels because I want this fight to be done and over with. I just wish the fight didn’t have to happen. I figured it would be wrong if I didn’t tell you now. You deserve to know.” 

“Well, I appreciate that. And, for the record, I don’t want this fight to happen either. The last thing I want is my brothers to get involved in something that has nothing to do with them.”

“The fight’s gonna happen one way or another, and I thought getting your brothers to go along would be the best way to go about it. Once I listened to your prayers, though, I realized how it would affect you. I know you wouldn’t want to lose either one of your brothers, even though they can be assholes sometimes.” 

(Y/N) snorted. “Like you’re one to talk.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, unlike your brothers, mine can be caring and nice when they want to be.” 

“Believe it or not, Michael and Luci both have the capability of being nice! I witnessed it firsthand.” 

“Bullshit!” 

“It’s not! Granted, they were a whole lot nicer when they were fledglings, kind of got a little rocky as they got older, but they could still be nice!” 

“Wait, wait, wait, fledglings?” 

“Yeah.”

“What’re fledglings?” 

“Newborn angels.”

“So…baby angels?” 

“In a sense,” Gabriel shrugged. A mischievous smirk then appeared at the corner of his lips. “Do you want to hear some embarrassing stories about when Michael and Luci were younger?” 

“Of course I do,” (Y/N) sat back, turning his body to face Gabriel as well. 

“Okay, but, in return, you have to tell me some embarrassing stories about your brothers.”

(Y/N) bit his lip as he contemplated the offer. Finally, he smirked. “Deal.” 

For the next while, Gabriel and (Y/N) went back and forth, sharing their embarrassing stories from their abnormal families. They joked, laughed, and, overall, had a good time. Not only did it lighten the mood from the bombshell Gabriel had dropped, but it allowed them to grasp a basic understanding of their past and present lives. 

There were a few things (Y/N) learned throughout their conversation. One; Gabriel and his brothers shared some scary similarities with the Winchesters in regards to mannerisms and attitudes. Two; Gabriel could talk for a millenia if he was given the opportunity. And three; (Y/N) felt oddly calm around Gabriel. It hadn’t even struck him how easily Gabriel was able to shift the conversation as smoothly as he did. (Y/N) wasn’t too sure how he could feel that way around him. As they sat there and talked, after everything that was said, and after everything that happened with the warehouse incident - he’ll never forget the nutcracker - he couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of comfort around him. There was something about Gabriel that filled (Y/N) with a sense of peace and belonging, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it as to why that was. 

It wasn’t like he was complaining, though. 

They talked until the moon sat near the far end of the sky. Unbeknownst to them, the two had begun to scoot closer to one another as the conversation continued, getting to the point where their knees and shoulders were touching. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. Neither of them pulled away out of instinct. It felt right. It felt natural. 

Gabriel droned on and on about, yet, another story when Lucifer was a young angel. He seemed to have more stories about him than he did of Michael. (Y/N) was quite the opposite. He had more stories about Dean than he did with Sam. Both of them laughed as Gabriel tried his best to continue. 

“So - so Dad got angry because Lucifer kept letting the bugs out of their sanctuary, and -” Gabriel looked over at (Y/N), and his smile vanished. 

(Y/N) glanced up at him, noticing the change of demeanor instantly. His smile, too, disappeared. “Is something wrong?” 

As he kept his eye on him, Gabriel reached up and gently brushed his thumb against (Y/N)’s bottom lip. (Y/N) felt his cheeks heat up and his brows furrow in confusion. 

“Your lips are blue,” Gabriel stated. He glanced up at the sky and his brows shot up. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize we had been out here so long.” Gabriel sat up. 

“How long how we been out here?” (Y/N) dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. 

3:27 AM

“Oh shit,” he mumbled as he quickly stood up. 

His legs and ass were completely numb, causing him to sway at the rapid movement. Gabriel was by his side in an instant, hands on his shoulders to steady him. They had been out together for, close to, four hours. No wonder (Y/N)’s lips were blue. He shivered, teeth chattering lightly. Once (Y/N) was able to stand on his own, Gabriel took off his jacket and draped it over (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N) shook his head. 

“Oh, no, Gabriel, it’s okay. I just need to get back to the motel.” He stuttered tiredly. 

“I’m the reason you were out here for so long. Consider it a, um, token of my appreciation for talking to me,” Gabriel smiled sweetly.

(Y/N) returned the smile. “Well, thank you for keeping me company.” 

“Let me take you back to the motel.” 

“No. If Sam and Dean see you, they’ll kill you and then me.”

“Then I won’t let them see me.”

Without another word, Gabriel reached up and pressed his index and middle fingers against (Y/N)’s forehead. (Y/N) inhaled shakily and closed his eyes. One second, he was standing in the park, then, the next, he and Gabriel were standing in front of the Winchester’s motel room. He breathed a sigh of relief once he saw the faded numbers etched onto the door. 

“Thank you,” he smiled and retrieved the key from his pocket. 

“Anytime. And, uh, if you ever feel the need to talk again under better weather conditions, feel free to pray. When the prayers are sent directly to me, it’s a lot easier for me to hear.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Now go warm up.”

(Y/N) flashed Gabriel one last smile as he turned the key to the room and opened the door. Gabriel vanished. 

Moonlight pooled in through the cracked door as (Y/N) crept into the room. He felt the warmth flood his face and hands as he entered. Despite the heavy jacket he had gone out with, having spent hours in the windy, misty park, he was bound to get cold eventually. He didn’t think he would get that cold, though.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Sam sleeping soundly on his stomach, face nuzzled against the cheap pillow, and Dean sprawled out on the couch, legs and arms spread in uncomfortable positions that he would undoubtedly complain about the next day, mouth slightly open, and drool coating his chin and pillow. (Y/N) was thankful for his stealth ability.

Slowly, he made his way over to the unoccupied bed and crawled underneath the covers. Not bothering to change his clothes or take off his shoes, he nestled into the thick - yet somehow extremely thin - comforter. His eyes closed as soon as his head hit the pillow.

*~*

That was the best night’s sleep he had gotten in ages. 

Well, it would have been, had he not been awoken by a flying pillow to the face.

(Y/N) groaned as he opened his eyes ever so slightly. The sunlight beamed in through the window, caressing his skin, and he hated it. He glanced tiredly in the direction that the pillow came from and found Dean with an amused grin spread across his lips.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean greeted.

“Fuck off,” (Y/N) grunted as he grabbed the pillow and chucked it lazily back at him. He missed terribly. 

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Sam teased as he sat a cup of steaming coffee on the nightstand next to (Y/N).

“Thanks,” he mumbled and sat up. “And I just got a pillow thrown at my face, am I supposed to jump for joy and sing Kumbaya?” 

“Are you sure it’s the pillow and has nothing to do with you getting back so late?” Dean quirked a brow.

(Y/N) went to reach for the coffee cup, but stopped himself. He glanced at Dean, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?” 

“Well, one, you’re wearing the exact same thing you were wearing yesterday, plus you wore your shoes to bed. Two, I heard you getting back last night,”

“Bullshit. You were passed out.”

“Do you realize how loud you stumbled in? I’m surprised Sammy didn’t wake up because of it. My third point, though,” Dean pointed down to his brother’s chest. “That’s not your jacket. So…did you get lucky?” 

(Y/N) looked down at himself and his brows raised. He was still wearing Gabriel’s jacket. He had been so tired and cold last night that he had completely forgotten to take it off or even give it back. He reached up and played with the collar gently. He had to remember to thank Gabriel for giving it to him.

Oh, wait, prayers! Thank you for the jacket, Gabriel!

“Well?” Dean pressed.

“Huh?” (Y/N) looked over at him. 

“Did you get lucky?” 

(Y/N) snorted. “If I got lucky, do you think I would be here right now?”

“Not unless it was bad.���

“Would that mean I still got ‘lucky’ if it was bad? What kind of luck is that?” 

“You’re dodging the question.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “No, Dean, I didn’t get lucky.”

“Then who’d you meet?” Sam asked.

“Why does it matter?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Because you’re smiling,” Dean pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. “And you don’t smile like that normally. It’s kind of freaky.”

“Oh, fuck off, Dean,”

(Y/N) hadn’t even realized he had been smiling, but he could hear it in his voice. Dean was right, it had been ages since he had smiled like that. His cheeks were starting to hurt. He reached over, took a sip of his coffee, then put it down. He stood up from his spot on the bed and stretched his aching muscles.

“So,” Dean pursed his lips. “Who was it?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you, Dean?”

“Nope,” Dean popped.

(Y/N) shook his head. “It was just this guy that I met at the bar. He bought me a drink, we sat and talked and, when the bar closed, we went to the nearest park and continued our talk.”

Dean’s smirk faltered and was replaced with a frown. “That’s it? You just…talked?” 

“Yeah,” (Y/N) shrugged.

“You’re more boring than Sam,”

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed.

“What do you want me to say, Dean? ‘I found this guy at the bar, we went to the park, I gave him head, he gave me a twenty, said ‘no homo’, and walked away’?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Well, that would have been a hell of a lot more entertaining than ‘we just talked’.”

(Y/N) waved him off. “Whatever,” he mumbled, then kicked his shoes off.

Sam took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. We’re gonna go look for that Wendigo.”

“I’m taking a shower before we go, so…” (Y/N) stuck his tongue out at Sam.

Sam smirked and shook his head as (Y/N) gathered some of his clothes from his duffel bag. Without another word, he vanished into the bathroom.

*~*

(Y/N) was sick for a week after that. As it turns out, cold air and wet hair don’t necessarily mix well. At first, he tried to push through it, but fatigue and a sore throat caught up to him and left him on research duty for the duration of the Wendigo hunt. During that time, whenever Sam and Dean were out looking for clues, leaving him alone in the stuffy motel room, he would pray to Gabriel. Gabriel would be quick to respond.

The two would sit and talk for hours, idle chit-chat here and there, and would always seem to dance around the topic of the fight one way or another. Those talks continued well after (Y/N) felt better and the Wendigo hunt concluded. (Y/N) resumed his nightly walks, and Gabriel would accompany him. In the mornings, when Sam and Dean would occasionally catch onto (Y/N)’s disappearing acts, he would play it off as a spontaneous trip to the local bar scene, fabricating stories about meeting a dreamy man he would talk to or go back to his place. It wasn’t a complete lie, so he didn’t feel as bad when he told them. 

As the months went on, (Y/N) could feel himself growing fonder of Gabriel. It was a strong feeling. Is that what love felt like? He could only assume. Yet, the feeling was more than that. He felt connected to him in a much stronger sense of the word. A spiritual sense, perhaps? He couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause of those feelings, but the last thing he was going to do was fight himself on them, despite how obvious it was that his brothers would disapprove of his relationship with Gabriel. That’s what secrets were for. He had gone long enough without telling them, what’s a couple more months or years?

Whenever they were together, (Y/N) felt whole, as if a lost piece of a puzzle he didn’t even know he had found its way to him. When he was with his brothers, or by himself, he found his mind constantly shifting to thoughts of Gabriel. Of what they would talk about, of Gabriel’s smile, of the way his stomach would turn whenever they stood or sat close to one another. He would crave his presence, desperate to hear the sound of his voice. It was killing him, slowly, from the inside out, and he knew if he didn’t say anything soon, he would combust. He had to tell Gabriel his feelings.

One thing he loved about small towns was the lack of artificial lights. Sure, there were dull street lamps scattered around that looked as if they needed to be changed years ago, but the absence of skyscrapers and people, overall, meant not much was needed to illuminate the roads. Locals knew them like the back of their hand anyway. With the minimal light, almost anywhere in town, you could see the stars that decorated the night sky. If you wanted, you could pick out each constellation. Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper were rather prominent that night.

There were several smaller parks in town, but the biggest sat in the middle of downtown. It wasn’t used as a children’s area as much as a casual gathering ground. (Y/N) could imagine dogs in the grass and elderly couples walking arm-in-arm during the daylight hours. By night, it was abandoned, the distant sound of country music playing from the only local bar. It was the perfect place for him and Gabriel to meet.

They sat on a bench in the middle of the park, heads tilted back as they stared at the stars. Their sides and legs were pressed together, and, for the first time in a while, they said nothing. Normally, their meetings were filled with lively conversation from the moment they saw each other to the moment they parted. (Y/N) had to wonder if Gabriel could tell that he wanted to have a serious discussion. Perhaps he had a lot on his mind. Or, perhaps, Gabriel was too busy reading (Y/N)’s to say anything. Regardless, they had been sat there for close to half an hour without as much as a single word to each other. (Y/N) knew just sitting there wasn’t going to do any good. He had to bite the bullet and say something. 

“Gabriel?” He started, his voice coming out small and quiet.

Gabriel hummed. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Well, first of all, I just wanted to say that I like spending time with you.” He began to fiddle with his fingers. “And I don’t want what I’m about to ask to make our meetings stop.”

“Honestly, I think, at this point, the only thing that you can ask to make our meetings stop is ‘Hey, can our meetings stop?’.”

(Y/N) chuckled lightly. “Gabe, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he smirked.

“Well, um…” he paused. “Do you ever feel like we’re connected in other ways?”

Gabriel furrowed his brows. He turned his body to face (Y/N), rested his elbow on the back of the bench, and placed his cheek into his hand. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, it feels like…more.”

Gabriel studied (Y/N)’s face, noticing his lack of eye contact. He stayed quiet for a moment, and (Y/N) could feel the anxiety building inside of him. He knew he did a piss poor job at explaining what he meant, but it was the best he could come up with. Slowly, Gabriel smirked.

“You have a crush on me, don’t you?” He teased.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and the heat rose to his cheeks. He glanced over at Gabriel, then back down at his lap. 

“I, well…I’m not…I- that’s not the point, okay!?” (Y/N) shook his head. “The point is that it doesn’t feel like just a crush to me. It feels like an even deeper connection than that. Like something about our souls and- nevermind, this just sounds stupid,” his shoulders deflated in defeat.

Gabriel waved his hands and shook his head. “Hey, hey, it’s not stupid, alright? I get what you’re saying. You feel as if we’re connected by something other than you just being my vessel.”

(Y/N) nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I feel it, too.”

“You do?”

“I mean, yeah,” Gabriel folded his hands in his lap. “I felt that when we first saw each other, even before the warehouse. Then, everything with your brothers happened, and we met again, and, still,  I felt that connection.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought I was looking too hard into it. I started thinking that, maybe, the connection was all in my head. That it was, truly, just our connection by you being my vessel. When Dean said what he did about me being too afraid to face my family, I thought no one would understand my point of view on the fight. What I’ve had to go through being related to Michael and Lucifer. Then, you started to pray to me, and I knew that you understood me. That’s what made me come find you in the first place. Once we were alone, I felt this sense of…peace. I hate to admit it, but I feel like I can barely go a single day without wanting to see you. Without needing to see you. I knew it was more at that point.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were on Gabriel as he listened intently to what he was saying. He shook his head. “I feel the same way. It’s almost as if, I don’t know, I can’t breathe when you’re not around.”

“Well, please don’t stop on my account.”

“Stop it, we’re having a serious moment,” (Y/N) slapped his arm.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gabriel smirked. “I mean, as cliche as it sounds, it feels, almost as if we were meant for each other, right? Like we were meant to be together? Almost as if it was more than you being my vessel that bought us together.”

Gabriel reached over and grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, rubbing the side of it gently with his thumb. (Y/N) looked into Gabriel’s eyes, and he felt his heart soar. He reached up and caressed his cheek before they both leaned in, their lips fitting together perfectly in a sweet, loving kiss. Their eyes closed, and they both melted into a deep, sensual embrace. Almost immediately, all of the stress and worry seemingly melted away, replaced with a sense of belonging. A sense of closeness.

When they pulled back, they looked into each other’s eyes once more. A small smile creased the corner of (Y/N)’s lips.

“You’re right, it is pretty cheesy.” He whispered, his thumb tracing circles around Gabriel’s cheekbone.

Gabriel cocked a brow. “I thought we were having a serious conversation. Why do you get to make quips?”

“It’s kind of hard not to when I’m around you.” (Y/N) pressed his forehead against Gabriel’s.

Gabriel chuckled. “I guess I’m rubbing off on you, aren’t I?” He moved his hands to (Y/N)’s hips.

“I don’t see that as a bad thing.”

They sat together and enjoyed the peaceful quiet of their embrace. (Y/N) never felt more relaxed in his entire life, and he wanted to savor every moment he had with Gabriel.

Then, his mind started to drift. Drift to the fight, the battle between Michael and Lucifer, and to Sam and Dean. Gabriel had done such a good job at keeping him distracted from all the chaos that surrounded him that he hadn’t even had a chance to consider what could happen with the fight now that he and Gabriel were involved. Neither of them wanted to participate in the fight, but what would happen if they didn’t? Who would win? Would he lose one, or possibly both, of his brothers? If they did get involved in the fight, was there a possibility that he and Gabriel would lose each other? Did they even stand a chance to win against Michael and Lucifer if things were to turn ugly? Was there a chance that he could lose Gabriel even without being in the fight itself?

Gabriel reached a hand up and ran his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair soothingly. He pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips. “Your thoughts are being really loud, Sugarplum.” He whispered. 

(Y/N) broke from his trance and shook his head lightly. “I’m sorry, it’s just…with the fight,” (Y/N) looked away briefly. “I don’t want to lose Sam and Dean, but now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you either.”

Gabriel gave him a sympathetic look as he pulled him close. “I know. This whole thing is one giant mess. I wish none of it had to happen. But I’m going to be with you every step of the way, I promise.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “You can’t promise me that. Knock on wood.”

“What?” Gabriel chuckled.

“I don’t want you to have just jinxed yourself, now knock on wood.”

Gabriel smirked as he rasped his knuckles against the wooden bench three times. “Better?”

“A little,” (Y/N) mumbled and nuzzled his cheek against Gabriel’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll feel better until this fight is over.”

Gabriel wrapped his arms tightly around him. “How about this? I promise to do everything in my power to keep you distracted. That way, you’re not too stressed out.”

(Y/N) pursed his lips in thought. “Not too distracted, though. I had practically forgotten about the fight until now, and I still need to stay on my toes.”

“How about I distract you just enough to keep your mind off of it?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Well then, Sugarplum, how do you propose I keep you distracted?”

“You can start by kissing me again,”

“Oh, I can do more than kissing,” Gabriel mused in a suggestive tone and wiggled his brows.

(Y/N) slapped his chest. “Perv,” he grumbled. “Let’s just start with kissing.”

“Taking it slow, I like your style,” Gabriel nuzzled his nose against (Y/N)’s.

(Y/N) smiled widely. “Then shut up and kiss me already.”

Without another word, Gabriel leaned down, capturing (Y/N)’s lips in a deep kiss. Just like that, all of his problems dissipated, and it felt as if he was floating. The park didn’t exist anymore, nor the stumbling locals who left the bar periodically. There were no stars, no more beautiful night sky. The only two things that existed were Gabriel and (Y/N). They were complete. They were strong. They were one. It felt as if nothing in Heaven, Hell, or in between could tear them apart. 

And everything was as it should be.

[bruceawaynefrfr]

Gabriel's arc "arent you tired of being mean don't you just wanna feel love and be cherished"

[thebeastunleashed]

Behold, know my power of an angel!

(Artwork by kariwolf197 and requested by me. Thanks again!)

[animunitee]

Just let them have it. Let them be a hater.

The 'ugly Christmas Sweater' and the 'pretty Jim Sweater'.

[mx-anthony-janthony-crowley]

...it stands for jim, doesn't it

[profeyandere]

𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 ─── ☾ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɴꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.9ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇʟ ɢᴀʙʀɪᴇʟ x ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Your heart was beating softly for the first time in the last eleven years after the little offspring of your Lord, the much desired and acclaimed Antichrist that you had waited for so long, had finally appeared in the lives of the rest of humanity as the reminder of evil on the planet and the imminent threat of the End of the World, with which it would take with it any sign of life on Earth and bring with it a hope that an eternal war would begin between the great celestial group, which the human being had adored so much during all its centuries of existence thanks to the biblical writings and the various witnesses of God's miracles, and the opposing side made up of sinners and followers of Satan who had fallen from Heaven with him or joined his ranks shortly after, among which you, the adored angel creator of a few planets in the solar system, found yourself having been, like most souls in Hell, one of the many fallen angels who had acted against the God's plans, either through nefarious acts or absurds questions that had provoked the wrath of your Creator. You were not able to remember exactly how everything happened, but what you could point out without any problem and exactly was your curiosity and the great temptation that was to get a higher position on the social ladder of angels. To get a little more respect and recognition, you had caused yourself to become one of the nocturnal beasts that acted evilly to get humans, the perfect creations of the Lord of Heaven, to fall into the clutches of Satan and suffer the same eternal punishment that you and the rest of your fellow demons had been forced to have. Even though your job wasn't as long-suffering as the one you did in Heaven, mainly because you could do things whenever you wanted and you didn't have anyone demanding when to turn in your advances, and it was definitely no worse than lower-ranked devils than you, the vast majority of whom were in charge of suffering constant punishments or doing too boring forced labor that internally killed every demon that got in their way, but in either case, it was much worse than you supposed it could have been ever been. Temptations had become your order of the day, one every morning that you would have to perfect as time went by, or by telling some fib in between to mention that a certain historical event had happened because of you so that your terrifying new boss hadn't destroyed you or thought you as worthless as those who arrived daily below, but you'd been surprised that one of your own, Crowley, had been consorting for several centuries with one of the angels you'd once known while you were one of them, but with whom you hadn't exchanged as many words with him as the serpent in Eden seemed to have.

You discovered his secret during World War II, at the very moment you made sure that the plane that was carrying a large load of explosives was ready to blow up one of the English cities that you had chosen to continue your duties as a demon on Earth and that this one, by the grace of… Well… You know what I mean, would have been diverted to a Church much further away from what was your meeting point. That sudden change of plans surprised you, mainly because no one had orders to divert its trajectory to a different place, but it seemed that by some demonic miracle, one of the many cities on the British island that suffered constant attacks from the Germans had not blown up. You tracked down the miracle, the place from which it had come, and soon found yourself on the rubble of a ruined church where the bomb must have fallen, leaving everything in its path covered in a fine layer of dust and a mist caused by the explosion that quickly dissipated as soon as a bit of fresh air enveloped what had been a place of dreams. Your position on the rubble allowed you to visualize the demon of sunglasses that was then slowly cleaning them while a series of lamentations from a white-haired man that you couldn't recognize at first was heard in the background; they were Crowley and Aziraphale, the two enemies acting as a team. That sight left you speechless, mainly because you knew what a betrayal of this caliber entailed, and, although you were a few seconds away from disappearing to notify your headquarters of the nefarious actions that the demon was carrying out, you were surprised that both supernatural beings seemed to have helped each other as if they were friends and had obtained quite favorable results from their encounter on Earth.

The conception of a demon being friends with an angel was not in your mind, mainly because you were aware of the great punishment that such disobedience could entail, but, shortly after confronting Crowley during one of the trips he made in his Bentley in insults from various drivers were heard due to the sudden zigzagging of the car, it made you understand that this agreement could even be beneficial for both parts, both for a demon and for an angel, even more so with Armageddon on the way and about to happen, but you did not know what that could cause in your broken and afflicted badly wounded heart. You didn't want to stop Armageddon, at least not completely, but it was almost unavoidable not to intercede so as not to lose everything. Where would you live if the world plunged into a world of lava, explosions, starvation, and desert? What would you do on Saturday afternoons if the cafeteria that you occasionally visited with Crowley disappeared from the universe? How would that Jane Austen story to which you had become so hooked because of Aziraphale's temptations and offer to make his bookstore a place where you felt at home end? How would you feel if in the Great Final Battle, you lost that archangel for whom you had yearned so much from the moment of your mere existence in that wide and cold universe? Why did everything have to be so difficult? Those were questions that would never be answered.

A strong gust of wind caught your attention and, although you wanted to pretend that the presence of the newcomer had not affected you, you saw yourself in the obligation to snort to prevent your smile from becoming so wide that it could cause your mouth to hurt. You weren't in the habit of smiling, rather no demon did except Crowley when he was amused by something or in the company of the sweet white-haired angel, and you didn't want to show any sign of disturbance in your person in front of him; maybe later you would cry, maybe you could burn an entire field in a radius of three kilometers, but you would never allow yourself to show weakness in front of that purple-eyed archangel with whom you had met a few hours ago in what could have been The End of World. "It seems that you had been waiting for me," Gabriel said with an air of grandeur and superiority upon noticing the slight tremor, almost imperceptible, in your shoulders, barely being able to distinguish the features of your face because of your soft hair that waved gently and hid you.. He had to make a mental note that he had to stop appearing like that, or maybe he would never be able to fully see the expressions of the people, demons, or angels he visited. "You will be happy, you have stopped Armageddon. The reason why we have waited so many centuries to find out which side is the best is not going to happen, and all thanks to... What did you call it? 'The power of love'?" Deep down you were unable to tell if he was saying it sarcastically, with anger, or with joy. You never knew how to read the intentions of the Supreme Archangel well during your stay in Heaven, much less now after spending millennia so far from him. It had always been a mystery, both to you and to the rest of the universe. "You've become very funny, haven't you? And here I thought that you would still be the sanctimonious one who walked through the enormous corridors of Heaven with a white robe and a silk sheet around his neck while listening to the praise of others for his person as an egocentric who is not capable of appreciating the unaffiliated work," you murmured with some resentment, placing your hands behind your back while you felt how the tight black suit that held tightly to your shoulders and fell gracefully to the height of your waist. Maybe it was a short garment, but it suited you fabulously.

"It's still happening, not as much as before, but there are still some who are devoted to me, not like others," the archangel commented as he took a couple of steps towards you, keeping a small distance between the two who, according to you, almost seemed kilometers. You were like two people unknown to each other, even if at the beginning of time you had been almost thick and thin. "And it wasn't that white, it was a darker shade. It was silky white, it's like lime color, but a little duller." It didn't take long for your brow to frown upon hearing that, confusing you. "But they are the same thing," you pointed out, turning your gaze towards him, meeting the profile of the archangel who seemed to have a small smile appearing between his lips, even if it was hardly noticeable due to how tense his body was and his attempt to remain serene. That image took away your ability to speak and breathe as if it had somehow even stopped all your thoughts, and hit you so hard it restarted your Windows. You didn't know what the latter meant, but you found it quite amusing, and you had finally been able to make use of that strange phrase used by young people. It was true that Gabriel, when you met him, and had the opportunity to work with him on one of the first projects that involved the creation of the universe, that was its design and the shape of the 'stars' and some of the 'planets' that would envelop the Earth and be part of the Milky Way, had presented himself as someone good, attentive, just as an angel should be and even more so one of a position like his, although quite strict and slightly distant with those inferiors to his title. In short, there was nothing to him but low-ranking angels who were best ignored. Perhaps you were not by the side of the gray-haired man as long as other colleagues who had the same mission as you, but you felt recognized with each look and smile from him, which quickly became your main reason to work with more impetus and you win at his side in the great project that God had entrusted to you. Making Gabriel proud was something that you felt you needed because of the way he would reward you, and turn his violet eyes towards you to congratulate you on your great effort. Many would criticize you, in fact, some angels assumed that something strange must happen to you for the simple fact that your adorable smile became more prominent when you saw the archangel near you or when you simply saw him. You adored Gabriel in so many ways that it could have scared anyone but, being an angel, that wasn't so strange either. You were made to love, so what did it matter if you wanted a little more from one of them? Everyone has a favorite, and yours was the supreme archangel. You loved him, and you wanted to do everything possible to have his approval.

"I would like to agree with you and, although at first glance one color and the other seem the same, it is their shades that distinguish them from each other. They are variants," Gabriel commented, interlacing the fingers of his hands to try to have a more authoritative position under your intense gaze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye before returning to observe the dark sky that had settled over you with the passing of the minutes, being able to distinguish the great endless number of lights that were some of the small stars in the firmament that perhaps Crowley should have created so many millennia ago.

"It's still white, no matter where you look at it," you claimed, shrugging your shoulders, adjusting the jacket that surrounded your torso a little, fixing yourself on it for a moment before recriminating his point. "My jacket is black, but it can be completely black, an obsidian or ebony tone, but it's still black no matter how much you try to distinguish the exact tone," you commented, adjusting the garment to your body to prevent the coolness of the night from sneaking in between the flaps of the same. "Are we really arguing about the perception we have of colors? Maybe I'm color blind, and I'm not as perfect as God planned." You could make out the small frown that appeared on the archangel's face. You had inadvertently used a higher tone of voice than usual, making you feel like a stupid devil who was unable to control your emotions, but honestly, who did? Even Crowley, who had spent the longest time on Earth with his dear angel, had been unable to show him his true feelings. Why couldn't you hide them too, or accept them if he hadn't already?

"We may be discussing a trivial matter, but just as I cannot allow you to say that the shades of white are the same, you cannot say that what shines so bright in the sky, that orange sphere, is a star," indicated the archangel as he raised his arm a little to point to the ball of orange tones that he had mentioned, making you frown for making such a comparison that almost seemed sacrilege towards you.

"You can't say that Saturn is a star. Who in their right mind would?"

Your tone full of indignation amused Gabriel, causing a snort to come out of his lips, lightening the atmosphere around you a bit. It had been the first time in centuries that someone had made him laugh in that genuine, reserved way, and it was precisely because of that that he realized how much he had missed you, even a demon. He always admired the way you had worked so hard to please God, even if, deep down, you had never done it for your Creator, and he found your devotion to each of your creations that still roam the universe to this day enchanting. Therefore, contrary to what he might have thought to do to continue with the creation of the cosmos, he took the trouble to show you one of the most recent planets to which you had shown such devotion from the moment of its mere creation. He could still remember the way you complained about the cold of the expansive and dark universe, how warm your body felt against his when he cradled you between his three great wings, and the way your eyes sparkled with wonder at the various rings of Saturn revolving around the planet along with the many moons that accompanied it. That last one wasn't a design error, you yourself thought that the planet's design was slightly simple and that perhaps the big planet must have had more than just rings to decorate its slightly lonely background surrounded by space rocks. Gabriel missed those times a lot, and, seeing you next to him, only caused the memories so hidden in his mind to resurface quickly. In the back of his mind, he could still hear the loud guffaws of joy coming from your lips, which even reached Pluto and got stuck there waiting for your return, and on the huge Moon, you could still hear your cries asking for forgiveness for what happened.

[life-o-n-m4rs]

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 BELOW

aziraphale would’ve stayed for goth crowley

angel crowley is so mother fr

man bun + turtleneck is so hamina hamina but it would be too powerful for this world i fear

[lokischickadee]

I always have an intense urge to fuck this man into the mattress. You can't tell me that this man is a Dom at all!! Look at him!!

[metallatch]

if it’s true that Gabriel’s wings are blue then that completely changes the Good Omens fic, game.

no more, “Aziraphale’s wings are turning black because he rebelled” or, “Crowley finds a white feather and freaks out” Fanfictions

but we will get some fire OC art lmao

[lesbosoka]

i don’t CARE if it isn’t canon in the bible, i think it would be COOL and POETIC if God was also Satan

[supernaturalscribe67]

Euphoric

Words: 3,587

POV: 3rd Person and brief 1st Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Language, Dysphoria, a single mention of Deadname (D/N), self-hate, mention of past self-harm, attempted self-harm, hurt/comfort

Summary: Dysphoria can hit at any moment, and when it hits, it hits hard. The reader is going through a tough time with the way he looks, doubting himself and the people around him. When he feels at his lowest, ready to seep back into his old ways, his boyfriend, Gabriel, is there to help him out.

Request:

Hi I've been binge-reading your stories recently and I was wondering if you could do this request. :)

So a Gabriel/FTM!Reader where the reader is dealing with really bad dysphoria (possibly mentioning past SH?) and a comforting Gabe? Possibly with an established relationship?

(Would be so fucking rad if he Sam and Dean's younger brother!!)

Tysm even if you don't do this, I love your work so much and it's helped so much recently

@genekies

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, hun! A lot has been going on at work that has taken my focus away from writing. However, I finally found the inspiration to write this with the help of my Supernatural novels that I found hidden away in a box! I really hope you enjoy this story and that it brings you some type of comfort! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Much love~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Good morning, sugarplum!

Sorry, I couldn’t be there when you woke up this morning. Duty calls. I’ll be back later tonight! I hope you have a good day! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! <3

Your Casanova,

Gabriel

Why do some people wake up with an already negative attitude? A multitude of factors could be the cause; relationship issues, low self-esteem, stress, unhealthy thoughts, and lack of sleep are just a handful of possibilities. Some have their reasonings read out to them by a licensed professional they pay an arm and a leg to visit every couple of weeks, while others lack the funds and/or the proper motivation to cope, so they bottle it up inside, casting it away to the darkest depths of their mind for weeks, maybe months. They ignore the feelings they get, the troubles that stalk them, until the bottle inside of them fills to the brim. It shakes and stirs, begging for release. It spills out, slowly at first, but then the pressure becomes too much to handle, and it combusts. 

And (Y/N) felt like he was about to explode. 

Nothing looked right. His jawline wasn’t sharp enough, his curves were more pronounced than ever, his binder didn’t make him flat enough, he was too short, the hair on his face was barely considered peach fuzz at that point, and his eyes - yes, his eyes - screamed femininity. Screamed female. Screamed everything about you is wrong. Screamed;

You are not a man, and you never will be.

It wasn’t often that his gender dysphoria acted out as bad as it had that day. Sure, there were times when he woke up and the negative thoughts just never seemed to go away. The thoughts that made certain parts of him look wrong, misplaced. Rarely had his mind told him that everything about him was wrong. Rarely did his mind tell him he wasn’t the man he wanted to be. But, when those thoughts arose, they hit him hard, as if he got struck by a semi-truck going eighty on the interstate. It hollowed him out and made him a shell of his former self. A shell that was slowly wilting away. 

His brothers were the first to notice his shift in demeanor. While he normally came into the kitchen every morning with a goofy grin on his face, a smile was nowhere to be seen. His head was cast down and he barely spoke a word to either Sam or Dean. Another thing they noticed was the lack of exposed skin he had. Usually, (Y/N) would walk out of his room clad in a t-shirt and shorts in the morning. That day, he wore a hoodie, sweatpants, and socks. The temperature in the bunker hadn’t changed, so it wouldn’t make sense that he was cold. If he had been, he would have complained about it for the rest of the day, yet he didn’t say a word. Instead, he silently got some coffee and sat down with his brothers at the table. He didn’t engage in conversation. 

Later on, the three of them sat in the library, heads buried in books and computer screens. They would typically sit around, and talk about potential hunts or random information that they had found. (Y/N) acted the same way he did when he was in the kitchen, though. He was physically present, but nowhere near as mentally present. His head was down, the cord from his earbuds wrapped around his phone, which was sitting next to the book he had been reading. It didn’t even seem as if he was actively reading the text. It had been ten minutes since he turned the page. 

Sam leaned closer to Dean, who sat next to him. “Does he seem off to you?” He asked in a low, quiet voice. 

Dean looked up from his computer and glanced over at his youngest brother. He hesitated, studying him for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, something’s wrong with him. Has he said anything?” 

Sam shook his head. “No.” 

“Do you think it has something to do with Gabriel?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe?” 

Dean pursed his lips for a moment before he turned back to (Y/N). He leaned over and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. (Y/N) lifted his head to look at his brother and, for the first time that whole morning, their eyes connected. Dean noticed something almost immediately. His eyes were empty, void of any emotion. (Y/N) took an earbud out.

“Yeah?” He asked, voice low and monotone. 

“Hey, man, you doing okay?” 

(Y/N) looked away for a moment. “Yeah?” He shook his head and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You just seem a bit off today.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Did something happen with Gabriel?” Sam asked. 

“No? I said I’m fine.” 

“Ok, well, obviously you’re not,” Dean said. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing!” (Y/N) spoke in an exasperated tone. 

“(Y/N),” Sam leaned forward, palms flat on the wooden surface. “If something’s wrong, you know you can tell us, right?” 

“Nothing’s wrong! Will you two stop fucking bugging me!?” He exclaimed. 

(Y/N) slammed his book shut and shoved it away from him. Quickly, he stood, stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and stormed out of the library. Sam and Dean’s eyes were attached to him until he was out of sight. Dean and Sam shot a glance at one another, both of them opening their mouths as if to say something, but decided against it before they went back to their work. 

(Y/N) was numb, aside from the small annoyance that had bubbled up inside of him from his brothers’ persistence. One common trait that was distributed through all the Winchester siblings was the lack of willingness to talk about their emotions. It was an ideology that was beaten into them when they were younger and first got into hunting. Bury your emotions deep within, don’t let them show, and don’t let your enemy know your weakness. Hell, don’t let your allies know your weaknesses, either. They’ll turn their back on you if they see you at your lowest. Stay strong, hide your feelings, and don’t let anyone in, even if it’s family. 

When he made it back to his room, he walked over to the small dresser that was pressed along the far wall. Beside the dresser sat his tennis shoes. He grabbed them and put them on. He walked back over to the dresser, opened up the top drawer, and rummaged around in his undergarments for a moment before he fished out a pack of Marlboro Reds. The box was slightly creased, the plastic rustling in his grasp. It had been a while since he had a cigarette. He hadn’t felt the need for them, but he could feel the stress and anxiety grumble inside of him. He needed something to clear his mind. (Y/N) placed the carton into his hoodie pocket and left his room. 

As he made his way past the library archway, he was stopped by his brother’s voice. 

“Where’re you going?” Dean piped up. 

(Y/N) stopped in his tracks and turned towards them. “Out.” 

“Out where?” Sam asked. 

“Look, I’m just going to take a walk around the bunker, that’s all. Going to clear my head.” 

Dean and Sam shared a look. “You sure?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Just need a breather is all.” 

“Alright, well…don’t go wandering too far.” 

“I won’t.” (Y/N) shared a small smile. 

Sam and Dean returned the smile as (Y/N) turned his back on his brothers and headed up the staircase toward the front door.

 

The afternoon sun slithered past the canopy of oak tree branches. Orange, red, and yellow leaves shined bright, painting the dirt floor like a kaleidoscope. About half a mile from the bunker, a dead tree had fallen during a heavy thunderstorm several years prior. The trunk has since been embedded in the ground, forming a natural bench in the middle of the forest. This was where (Y/N) had gone to clear his head. 

He sat at the edge of the log, back slouched, elbows resting against his knees, and hands hung limply between his legs. The smoke from his lit cig wafted upward towards the treetops. The end of the cigarette slowly withered away, a small amount of ash falling upon the autumn leaves. His eyes were cast down and glazed over, the thoughts in his mind running at a hundred miles an hour. 

You’re delusional. A man? No one would ever consider you a man. You look nothing like a man. Nothing like what you want to, and you never will. You’ll always look like the girl you were born as. You’ll always be (D/N), and there is nothing you can do about it. Sam, Dean, Gabriel? They’re all lying to you. They’re feeding into your delusion because they feel bad for you. They don’t love you or support you. They’ll never see you as a man. Never have and never will.

(Y/N) lowered his head as he brought the cigarette up to his lips. He inhaled deeply, feeling the burn of the smoke filling his lungs, before he brought the cig away from his mouth. He tapped the end of the cig, the ash falling onto the ground. As he shifted, the sleeves of his hoodie lifted, the remnants of depressive episodes from his past peeking out through the cotton fabric. His eyes shifted to the discolored scars. He could remember how he felt when he first made the scars. The relaxation he felt afterward, the relief. It was a distraction from the pain he felt within. It was a distraction that he desperately craved. 

For a moment, he looked at the end of the cigarette. It was slowly dwindling to half its original length. He shifted it in his fingers and brought it to his wrist, stopping right before the end of the butt touched his skin. He hesitated and contemplated. (Y/N) closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and moved the cig closer to his arm. 

“Hey Sugarplum,” the voice came out of nowhere. 

(Y/N) let out a startled shout, the cigarette fell to the ground as he turned toward the sound of the voice. Sitting beside him on the log was Gabriel, his signature smirk etched onto his lips. (Y/N) sighed and leaned down, grabbed the butt, brought it to his lips, and took a final drag. He then lifted his foot and put the cig out on the bottom of his shoe before he flicked the remnants onto the ground. He placed his hand on the log and exhaled, the smoke leaving his lungs and creating a halo around his head. 

“A little birdie or two told me you went on a walk. The little birdie also told me you weren’t feeling the best.” Gabriel said as he reached an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders. 

(Y/N) could feel himself instantly relax at Gabriel’s touch, the tension leaving his shoulders. So much was going through his head. So many emotions beating at his heart, begging to be released, begging to be expressed. Yet something was stopping them. 

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, his voice soft. 

The smirk was gone from Gabriel’s face, his expression turned more serious. He inched closer to (Y/N) so that their sides were pressing against one another. He pulled him close. 

“You know that’s not true,” Gabriel whispered. He pressed his nose against (Y/N)’s cheek. He ran his fingers through his hair softly and soothingly. “I can hear everything going on in your pretty little head, sugar, and I know that it’s not quiet.”

Gabriel’s closeness was comforting, something that he had been craving all day. The longer Gabriel sat next to him, the more relaxed he felt, yet the demons were still scratching at the inner crevices of his mind. With the mixed feelings he experienced, it was all so overwhelming. (Y/N) recognized the familiar prickle of tears appearing in the corner of his eyes. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gabriel breathed as he wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s body, pulling him as close as he could, his head resting on Gabriel’s chest. 

(Y/N) sniffled as he allowed the tears to fall, something that didn’t happen very often. Something he would, normally, not let himself do. Be vulnerable. Vulnerability is what gets you killed in the hunting career, and there was no time for that. Still, the warm feeling of Gabriel’s arms wrapped around him made him feel at home, made him feel safe, and told him that it was okay to let himself go. 

Gabriel rubbed (Y/N)’s back. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked quietly. 

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment as he clasped his hands together. He rubbed the back of his knuckles, a soothing gesture he learned from a young age. “I don’t…” he trailed and let out a sigh, shoulders slouched. “I don’t look like a man.” 

“What?” Gabriel furrowed his brows. 

“I don’t look like a man, okay!?” (Y/N) exclaimed and moved away from Gabriel, standing abruptly. “I mean, look at me! I’m so short and feminine! Look at my hips! Look at my face! Everything about me is wrong. Everything about me isn’t what it’s supposed to be and it’s killing me.” (Y/N)’s voice got louder, frustration evident in his tone. 

The tears were freefalling, and (Y/N) did not attempt to wipe them away. Gabriel simply stared up at him, listening, a saddened expression making its way across his face. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up and look at yourself in the mirror and see nothing but a body that you hate? A body that you don’t want to be in? That you feel like you don’t belong in? It feels like my life is a lie, that I’ve just been kidding myself when I said that I could finally be the man that I always wanted to be. Everything that you or Sam or Dean have said about me, validating my emotions, supporting me through everything, was just some pathetic pity party in an attempt to make me feel better about myself, even though, deep down, I know I’m not going to look anything like I want to. I’m not going to be the man that I’ve always dreamt I’d be because I’m stuck. I’m stuck in this worthless body that I was forced to have and I can’t do anything about it. I want…” 

The tears were coming faster now, his words becoming shaky, almost unintelligible. 

“I want to be happy…but I look at myself and I just can’t.”

Gabriel stood and walked over to him. “(Y/N), look at me,” he reached down and cupped (Y/N)’s wet cheeks, lifting his head so that he could gaze into his reddening eyes. He used his thumbs to wipe the tears away. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” He had a smile on his face. 

(Y/N) sniffled. “What?” 

“I see a handsome, strong, brave man who risks his life daily for the people that he loves. I see a man with a heart of gold, who would do anything to make other people happy. I see the most handsome man on the face of this planet, the most wonderful man that my father had ever created. More importantly, I see your soul.” 

“My soul?” 

“Yes, your soul. I see how bright, beautiful, magnificent, and glorious it is. How perfect it is. The man you truly are.” 

(Y/N) looked down at the ground. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s middle. Gabriel wrapped his arms around him, running his fingers through his hair. 

“I know it’s hard some days. You look at yourself and don’t like what you see. You feel like there’s nothing you can do to change it. That people aren’t going to see you for who you are. I hate to break it to you, sugarplum, but that’s all I see.” He chuckled deeply. “All I can see is the man you are. The man you were meant to be. And some days are going to be harder than others, you're going to beat yourself up more than you should, and that’s okay. Because, in the end, you’ll get through this. You’ll gain your confidence back. You’ll see yourself and finally say ‘This is me’, and I am going to be with you every step of the way.” 

Gabriel leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of (Y/N)’s forehead. 

“Because I love you. Every part of you. The parts that you like and the parts that you don’t like. I love it even more when you’re happy with yourself. When you love yourself. And even if I pop in one day and you’re dressed as an Oompa Loompa with a five-foot-tall bright green and yellow mohawk and a beard the size of Gandolf’s, then I would still love you.” 

(Y/N) snorted and let out a short laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” (Y/N) shook his head. “An Oompa Loompa?” 

“Hey, it’s not my place to judge if or when you decide to dress up as an Oompa Loompa.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, a smile curled into the corner of his lips. Gabriel brushed his wet cheek with his thumb. 

“Feeling better?” He asked softly. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

“Good, I’m glad. And I’m proud of you.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows and glanced up at Gabriel. “For what?” 

“For telling me how you feel. If I know anything about you Winchesters, I know that that wasn’t easy.” 

“It wasn’t. But…it felt good.” 

Gabriel nodded. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against (Y/N)’s lips. When he pulled back, he stared lovingly into his eyes. 

“You’re my person, (Y/N). The person that I love and care for, and if you ever feel like this again, just give me a shout and I’ll be there faster than you can get my name out of your mouth. I never want you to be alone when you feel like this. You don’t deserve to be alone through this. Promise me that you’ll call me next time you feel like this?” Gabriel’s hands trailed down from his face to his arms and stopped to grab his wrists gently. He rubbed them softly through the sleeves.

(Y/N) opened his mouth and hesitated. “I can’t promise, but I’ll try.” 

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Gabriel smirked and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now, do you want to go back to the bunker? We can cuddle on your bed, and watch some of those terrible reality TV shows. I think I have a bit of an addiction to 90-Day-Fiance.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “Do you mind if we sit out here for a little bit? It’s a beautiful day out and…I’m not quite ready to go back inside yet.” 

“Of course, anything for my sugarplum,” he leaned forward, his nose brushing gently against (Y/N)’s. 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) whispered. “I love you. I don’t deserve you.” 

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. You deserve the world and every beautiful thing in it.”

“I don’t want the world. All I want is you.” 

“Then have me you shall. Forever and always.” 

“Forever and always?” (Y/N) lifted a hand, his pinkie finger sticking out. 

Gabriel smirked and chuckled. He lifted a hand, hooked his pinkie onto (Y/N)’s, and looked deeply into his eyes. 

“Forever and always.”

My Dearest (Y/N),

I’m writing this, not as one of my regular notes, but as a reminder to you. I want you to pack this away somewhere safe where you can take it out and read it whenever you feel down about yourself in any way. 

You are strong. You are brave. You are handsome. You are perfect. You are loved. You are you. 

I know it’s hard to see yourself in a positive light at the moment, and everything may seem like it’s closing in as if nothing is going right and it will never get fixed, but, just know, you’ll make it through this. Just like you’ve done on multiple hunts, you will prevail. You will conquer the enemy, even if that enemy is yourself. 

Remember, you don’t have to fight this battle alone. I’m here for you, and so is Sam and Dean. We all love you so much and we want you to be happy! We love seeing your smile when you walk into a room. You brighten our day just by being you, and nothing will ever change that. 

If you need anything, anything at all, just think of me, and I will be there for you. We can watch your favorite movie and I’ll even bring you some of those little dessert cakes you like from the cafe I took you to on our first date. Even if you don’t want to talk to me about it, I want you to know that you don’t have to suffer in silence. Not while I’m around. I’ll always be by your side, no matter what you go through. 

I love you,

Forever and always,

Your Casanova, 

Gabriel