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supernatural-bias · 28 days ago

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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡

↳ summary: in which gabriel can be a shithead, you're awkward, and a shifter really messes up your first interaction

↳ warnings: violence, blood (mentioned), and lots of weird stuff

↳ authors note: this was a wip turned valentines day event submission for @spnfanficpond. the prompt was "an archangel falls in love with a mortal." a bit early but what the hell. for the three other gabriel fans out there, enjoy my first work of the new year.

↳ song: awful—hole

masterlist | commissions | carrd

“You know, never in my billions of years on this planet have I met someone who can avoid me as well as you all do."

Dean jolts in his seat as he looks up from his bowl of cereal, bleary eyed and slow to the draw. A few cheerios find their way onto his lap at the movement, and stick there. Through a slow blink, he stares at them, watching as his pants sop up the milk from them. Eventually he finds his voice, annoyance creeping into the groan he lets out.

"Dude, how many times have I told you to warn me before you use your freaky magic to pop in here." Dean glares at Gabriel as he tries his best to mop up some milk he spilled with the ends of his sleep shirt, giving up after a moment.

The archangel Gabriel grins down at Dean from his spot on the kitchen counter. He had on a set of unassuming clothes, looking like he might have gone on a casual stroll before dropping by the bunker. His hair fell in little curtains, framing his face like he had woken up and done nothing more than run a few fingers through it.

Dean looks down at his old Led Zeppelin shirt and mismatched socks. He grumbles.

"My bad Dean-o. I thought you would have been used to it by now, what with my baby bro practically bunking here half the time. What's up with that anyway?" Hopping off the counter Gabriel stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets, sticking his thumbs out as he begins to walk around the bunker's kitchen. He pauses every so often to mess with a stray utensil or two, fidgeting with them before placing them back at an angle that Dean knew would annoy Sam.

"Uh huh." Dean ignores the question to duck his head down and take another bite of cereal. He looks at Gabriel from the corner of his eye as he gives a crunch, swallowing for a second. He takes a brief moment to debate the consequences of drawing an banishing sigil before sighing. Dean might not like the archangel much— certainly not enough to tolerate him this early on in the morning —but he also knew that Gabriel had a habit of cursing people with some bizarre spell if they didn't give him the light of day.

"I'm assuming you didn't drop by to tidy up our kitchen and go." The hunter squints, blinking some crust out of his eyes in an attempt to be fully present for the conversation. "Can we help you, or—?"

Gabriel snaps his fingers to show Dean he had heard him, turning on his heel to look at the hunter with an expression Dean didn't see on him much. If he squinted hard enough, he thought it looked a bit like hesitancy.

"Right. I was wondering where your good pal—" Gabriel said your name, prompting Dean's eyebrows to draw closer together, "—was. You know, fellow hunter? Been holed up here for a couple months? Got a maaaajorly messed up sleep schedule? About yay high?" Gabriel holds out his arm to approximately your height with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Dean watches him do it with a frown, not entirely impressed.

"Why do you want to know where they are?" He slurps back some more cereal, eyeing Gabriel as he did so. "They've got stuff to do. Monsters to gank. How would I know where they were? And more importantly, why do you of all people want to know?"

Gabriel sucks at his teeth.

"Can't a guy just ask a friend of his a few questions?" He gives a dazzling grin; a stark contrast to Dean's bitchface. Gabriel had taken to calling it the Winchester Special long ago, and looks at Dean with a poorly concealed smirk.

"We're not friends, twinkle toes." Dean stabs at the air in Gabriel's direction with his spoon.

"Owch." He fakes a wince, sighing dramatically. "Point taken."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I just want to get to know them a little better." The angel seemingly concedes, now leaning his hip against one of the kitchen counters and looking at Dean with a bite to his lip. "Form new friendships with like-minded people and all that."

"Like-minded people?" Dean raises an eyebrow. "You met them a week ago."

"Hey, they like killing monsters, my whole family tree is full of em." Gabriel holds two hands out, tilting them up and down like scales. "I'm sure we can find common ground in there somewhere."

"I knew letting you come on that last mission was a mistake." Dean grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

"Whaaat, that last one? With the shapeshifter? No way you regret that, amigo! I totally helped you nail that sucker." Gabriel grins knowingly. Dean suppresses a shudder at his use of Spanish, images of Casa Erotica surfacing in his consciousness before being forced away.

"Let me rephrase that for you: I knew that if you ever met one of our friends, you'd do this." Dean ignores Gabriel's previous comment about helping, the likes of which wasn't entirely wrong. Although you'd be hard pressed to hear a Winchester ever admit when they were wrong.

"What? Be charming?"

"Be annoying." Dean glares. "It's already bad enough we have to deal with you ourselves."

"You know I'm just gonna pester you until you give me a hint, right?" Gabriel tilts his head, quirking an eyebrow. Dean looks away, struggling to come up with an excuse to get the cosmic being to leave him and his breakfast alone.

“If you want to talk to them so much, why don't you use that mojo of yours everyone is always trying to kill us over.”

“You know I can't do that, smartass.” Gabriel stares Dean down with a squint. “You three made sure of that when you went around branding all your friends with angel magic."

Dean returns the look, only breaking away when he thought about how soggy his cereal was getting. He turns back to his bowl just in time to see a cheerio sinking beneath the milk, letting out a pathetic bubble or two as it went.

"They're on a hunt right now." He finally relents with a sigh. He figures that he could apologize to you tomorrow about pointing the angel your way. "Don't ask me where, I don't know. They said they'd be back today."

He looks up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at Gabriel. "Whatever you're about to do, just make sure to do it far away from here. Last time you fucked around in the bunker, it took us a week to clean up. Cas is still finding confetti in his damn coat pockets.”

"Who said I was doing anything?" Mirth dances behind golden eyes. Dean opens his mouth to respond, but finds the words dying upon arrival.

"Stupid angels and their stupid wings." He mutters to a now empty kitchen. The sound of fluttering papers was the only thing to answer him.

Whatever. Gabriel was someone else's problem now.

Picking up the cereal box in front of him, Dean frowns and goes to pour himself another bowl of cheerios.

"Ooh, honey nut."

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Sleep was the one thing you miss most from your old life, and everyone knows it.

Before vampires, and ghosts, and all those new monsters of the week that seem to pop up anytime you relax, it had just been you, your bed, and the occasional night shift. While you don’t miss those late nights spent dealing with fussy customers, you certainly did miss your old bed sheets— the kind that never seemed to be too hot in the summer, and kept you perfectly toasty in the winter. At least, they had been, until you used them to choke a werewolf out in your dorm room. They had been sort of ruined after that.

Since then, your back has been plagued with one too many nights on a shitty motel mattress for it to be concidered anything other than torture. The Men of Letters Bunker is certainly a nice change of pace from the looming threat of bed bugs and airborne illnesses, but even their mattresses are far from perfect.

You can’t entirely blame the old guys. You doubt you'd be concerned with the exact thread count of a few bed sheets if the hideout you were building was for that of doomsday. It couldn't have killed them to stash a bit more memory foam around, though. God, all you wanted these days was a bit more memory foam.

With a grunt, you open the door to the bunker, and stumble in with a somber expression.

You don't say hi to Sam or Dean as you trudge down the steps to the bunker, and if they know anything about you, they wont seek you out for a hello either. You feel way too sore to be indulging in civil small talk at the moment. All that's on your mind was is hot bath, and the inviting arms of your mediocre bed. A warm welcome back from a successful vamp kill.

It takes you approximately twenty minutes of blissful, soapy heaven before you reach sight of your bed, now accompanied by an unusual addition: leather jacket and all.

"For someone who supposedly lives here, you are really hard to find. I'm starting to hate that chicken scratch on your ribs."

Your hand is still on your bedroom door knob when you walk into Gabriel propped up on your bed. Little droplets of water are sliding off of your skin and onto the floor as you stand there, and they splatter against the hardwood unceremoniously.

"...Gabriel?"

"The one and only." Your visitor grins, shifting on his spot on the bed. He looks as casual as one can be, and it stirs something up from within you.

You pull your eyebrows together in the beginnings of a glare, but relax them at the last moment. You’re too tired to get angry right there. Instead, you decide focus on his clothes, desperate for any sort of distraction.

He looks like he’s ready to walk onto a movie set, with a smooth shirt and comfy pants, sitting there in a leather jacket and with that smile of his. Or at least something of that caliber.

Suddenly you are very aware of your disheveled appearance.

"Uhm—" To say you feel a little unprepared for this visit, both emotionally and physically, would be an understatement. You’re in sleep clothes that have far too many holes peppered in them, and your hair sticks to your forehead in the shape of damp curls. Hardly ready for any type of chatter. "Did Sam or Dean let you in?"

"You could say that." Gabriel sighs, shooting you an award winning smile as you scratch the back of your neck. You accidentally dig a little too hard, and pull away before you can draw blood. If Gabriel notices, he doesn't say anything.

Your phone buzzes from inside your pocket. You spare a glance at it, reading the notification with a set expression before slipping it back inside your pants.

"What are you doing here? Did you need something?" You ask as you step into your room, leaving the door ajar behind you. You try not to stare at him too hard as you crossed the room, heading straight for your desk chair. It has an unfamiliar jacket draped across it haphazardly, probably one of the Winchesters, and you slip it on, feeling a bit better once you zip up the front. You see Gabriel hop off your bed out of the corner of your eye as you do so. He brings his hands out his pockets, rocking on his heels while looking up at the ceiling.

"Man, you and your pals with all these questions. Is it a crime to make friendly conversation around here?”

You stare at him.

“The last, and only, time we talked was in a sewer, Gabriel.” You remind him, purposefully keeping your answer short. He smiles, seemingly not put out by the memory, even if you grimace at the mental image.

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Blood and guts covered you head to toe. Shapeshifter skin was clumped in your hair, and you had been stomping around in the sewers for what felt like hours.

The hit you had taken to the face earlier had been embarrassing. Even more so when your nose had started to bleed all but immediately, gushing down your front like a faucet while you attempted to stab the creature on top of you to an unsuccessful degree.

Dean had volunteered to cover the front of the group when the shapeshifter had gotten away, signaling at you to watch everyone's backs. You had listened without much of a complaint, falling back with a nod and taunt muscles.

All of that had happened in the span of five minutes. That's just how it went as a hunter. Expect the unexpected, and when it eventually happened, try to keep your head on straight.

Speaking of the unexpected.

"So, what's a fella like you doing galavanting around with these two chuckleheads?"

You attempted to hush the angel next to you awkwardly, using the stealth of the hunt as an excuse for your lack of conversation. Gabriel shot you a look, gesturing forwards at Sam and Dean; who were both chattering away about something heatedly while the two of you trailed behind.

"I don't think I'm the one who's going to get us caught in this situation, sugar." He cocked a brow. A smile appeared when you pursed your lips, joy overriding his deadpan look.

"Why are you even here again?" You pivoted, taking extra care to avoid a clump of what looked like teeth by your foot.

"Oh, boredom, curiosity, a hankering for my monthly dose of flannel— take your pick, really."

Your lips twitched upwards at that. Gabriel watched with a twinkle in his eyes, only for it to fade when you forced down the smile.

When Sam and Dean had told you an angel would probably be dropping by, the last thing you expected was a sly, shit eating grin accompanied by honey brown ringlets of hair. You might not be as well versed on the topic of heaven as the brothers were, but you had certainly expected an archangel of all things to be, well, more serious.

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“Well, forgive me for thinking you might have alternative motives for breaking into my room.” You bring yourself back to the present. Leaning against the wall, you settle on watching him meander about the room. “I’ve heard some stories from Dean and Sam that don't exactly paint you as a model citizen.”

”Oh, what, the time loop thing? That was years ago. Pretty long by human standards.” He smiles. Your mind lingers on the 'human standards' part of his statement for a second too long as Gabriel waves a dismissive hand at you, using the other to rotate a picture frame.

It’s the one with you, Cas, and the brothers in front of Bobby's house. The afternoon after a successful hunt, if you were remembering things right. Bobby himself had been missing from the picture, too busy making sure the camera had all of you in its sights to make his way over in time.

In the photo, your arm is slung as far over Cas’s shoulder as it can go, and you’re sporting a pair of bunny ears thanks to Dean. Sam is mid laugh in the photo, and Cas’s eyes are half closed. It’s a horrible picture.

But it’s still framed and sitting on the dresser you barely use.

”That really happened? A whole ass time loop?" You clear your throat, not wanting to think about the picture any longer. Gabriel seems to pick up on your change in mood, and spares a glance at you.

”Doubting my abilities, are you?” He sets down the picture frame gently and moves on to something else, saying nothing about your small appreciative sigh as he does so.

”More like doubting Sam’s ability to tell a story.” You snort despite yourself. “I sort of lost the plot when he started talking about the piano that fell on Dean.”

"Ah. That." Gabriel sighs like he’s recalling a fond memory, refusing to elaborate with anything more than a smile. At this point, you don’t even want to know.

"Anyways—" The angel had gotten closer to you sometime during the conversation, now on the same side of the room as you. "I gotta say, you did catch me. I am here for more than just a quick chat." He holds his hands up like a criminal caught in the act, pursing his lips while he does so. You let him play the situation up as you wait for him to go on, your old friend curiosity rearing its head inside of you as he waits.

"Remember the shifter case?" Gabriel tilted his head your way when you don’t respond, prompting you to nod.

"..the one we were just talking about?" Your eyes are narrowed at this point.

"The very same." He clicks his tongue.

"Yeah. Kind of hard to forget." You hum as casually as you can, trying not to give away any of your feelings. Gabriel notices how you’re now avoiding his gaze.

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Moonlight from a sewer grate above your head illuminated your path. Ripples of water disrupted the puddles at your feet, and there was no one there to cringe at the smell of it but you.

When the shifter had jumped you all from around a corner, Sam and Dean had taken off after it, chasing the creature down too many twisting tunnels for you to count. Gabriel, who had stuck with you nearly the entire time, was much faster than he seemed. Even if you thought you had a few inches on him, he quickly outpaced you, eventually leaving you to wonder if the boys had taken a left or a right at that last impasse. And you were pretty sure you had taken the wrong path, if the empty stretch of sewer in front of you told you anything.

Either way, you were lost.

"Shit." You cringed uncomfortably as you stepped in something especially squishy. "Sewers. Why is it always fuckin' sewers. Can't I ever go on a hunt at a nice resort sometimes?" You spoke to no one in particular. Maybe if you prayed to Chuck tonight, he'd write a nicer adventure for you. One with hot towels and massages.

You frowned. Nah. Probably not.

A sudden noise pulled your attention away from the unfortunate scene by your feet. The sound was faint, barely even there, but the curved walls of the sewers amplified it.

It sounded, well, wet for a lack of better words.

Images of blood, loose skin, and barred flesh flashed through the backs of your eyelids. Imagination and memories blurred together, and it raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

You raised your gun steadily. Holding a flashlight in your other hand, you crossed the two items over each other as you stalked in the direction the noise was coming from.

The stone battered walls around you began to slant outwards. Against your better judgement, you followed the movement of them, taking one step after another until eventually it led you into a bigger part of the sewer.

"Sam?" Dean?" You called, venturing further into the opening. The sound was amplified, now louder than the water that had begun to flow by your feet. It spilled out into the giant room of pipes before you as you crept forward. "..Gabriel?"

Nobody answered you. Just more of that noise.

With a heavy gaze, you squared your shoulders, and prepared for a fight.

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"Well, I wanted to talk about what happened." Gabriel's gaze is piercing as he looks at you. If you were anyone else, you might have squirmed underneath it, but you hold steady. Er, try to at least.

Gabriel rocks on his feet once more as you stare at a wall. From the corner of your eye, you see him clearly looking at you, and it lights a dangerous spark to something you’ve been pushing aside. Emotional constipation sort of comes with the territory of being a hunter, if you’re being honest, and in times like these your issues were certainly no help.

"Hey, if you're mad that I managed to get the final kill and not you, there's probably some angel therapist out there you could find to work out the kinks in your ego." You go for the humorous route, shrugging nonchalantly as you attempt to swing the conversation in a direction other than the way it was currently barreling. It’s your attempt to give him a way out.

"That's not what I mean and you know it." He doesn’t take it, pushing forward.

Now you’re the one fiddling with your stuff. You feel like your suffocating in your own room— Gabriel's presence practically taking up a whole corner of it without him even realizing. You briefly wonder if that was an angel thing. A mental image of giant wings crowding around you and your belongings comes to mind the more you think about it. It makes you angry.

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Each step you took into the room felt more and more coated with danger. The air was practically thick with it. You were struggling to breathe through the stench.

You saw shoes. Two pairs. One looked too familiar for comfort. Had Sam been wearing those? Or were they Dean's? A giant, rust ladened pipe blocked everything else from your view, obscuring the answer.

The sounds were only getting louder. Something— someone —whimpered.

"Goddamnit— Fuck this."

You rounded the corner at the end of the pipe, finger twitching over the trigger. You nearly shot, ready to fly into a fight, only to see—

Yourself. Kissing Gabriel.

And doing a damn good job at it.

You watched as a pair of lips the exact shade and shape as your own devoured him. The two of them had both hands on the other, trying to find purchase in the fabric on their bodies. There was no doubt in your mind anymore what those noises were, and a part of you found yourself wishing it had been something bloody. You even weren’t sure if they knew you were standing across the room from them, gun hanging in your limp hand as your eye twitched uncontrollably.

"What the fuck?"

Your identical twin was the first one to react at the sound of your strangled voice. Their head snapped back from Gabriel's, mouths parting as they turned to look at you.

Nausea rolled over you in waves as you looked into your own eyes. Everything about them we're perfect. You reckoned if you went as far as to count the number of eyelashes you had, theirs would have been the same. Not a single detail was off: from the clothes, down to the few strands of hair you could never get tamed.

"Oops. You caught me." The shifter caught their breath enough to grin, birding holes into your eyes. They even managed to embody every bit of inflection you put into your voice when you talked. You felt a little bile claw its way up your throat.

They were still holding onto the front of Gabriel's jacket, standing there. Gabriel's chest heaved from under their grip as he looked between the two of you. His lips were parted slightly, and his hair was messy; no doubt from the shifter running a hand through it. The sight of him gave you a small pause in your movements, and for the life of you, you didn't know why.

Both you and the shifter stared at him, the latter of you waiting for him to catch up. You were still trying to process all this yourself. Eventually, he found his voice and your wide eyes.

"So.. that's not you I take it?" Gabriel pointed lamely at the carbon copy standing a mere few feet away from him.

"Pretty safe to say yeah." You gave him a look that was borderline crazed.

"Ah. Well."

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Later, you didn't tell Dean or Sam how exactly you'd managed to gank the shifter in that pipe room. It was believable enough that you had managed to tackle it, letting Gabriel take over with the smiting from there. A whole lot easier than admitting you had chopped it's head off in one short go, a burst of confusion and anger aiding your rush across the room at the time as you cut of whatever evil speech it had been preparing to give about killing you all— something to do with impersonating you and striking when everyone’s guards were down.

You didn't bother coming up with a lie for why Gabriel's shirt was buttoned back up wrong. He could do that himself.

The angel had played along with your lie at the time, only commenting with a smart ass quip or two when Dean sent a hard glare his way. It was a good lie overall. You knew the brothers, Dean particularly, would blow their tops if they knew exactly what had happened. And sometimes, what the Winchesters didn't know, wouldn't hurt them.

You remember emerging from the sewers after that, Sam and Dean already talking about the quickest route out of town so they could avoid local law enforcement. You remember sitting down on a roadside curb as they talked, staring at the soiled ends of your shoelaces. You remembered thinking about what had happened, and not being surprised when Sam came over to tell you that Gabriel had already taken off, saying something about angel's business he had to take care of.

You just hate that the one thing you couldn't stop remembering was the look in Gabriel's eyes when he had pulled away from the shifter.

What more, was that you hated that that very same look was the one currently staring you down from across the room, directing all of its owners undecided attention to you.

"Look, let's not play dumb here." Gabriel chooses to be the one to break the silence. You’re partly grateful, but his opening quickly dispels any thankfulness.

"Dumb." You echo back. You feel your upper lip curl a little. It wasn't a question, just his own word thrown back at him. Gabriel nods, but you see him hesitate.

"You're angry." He says slowly, as if testing how the words fell on his tongue.

"Sure, yeah. Because if I'm remembering correctly, one of us walked into the other kissing a monster down in that shithole and then took off. And it sure as hell wasn't me." You can’t decide if you should raise your voice for emphasis, or lower it to disguise the slight shake you knew he was hearing. You settle for neither.

Gabriel doesn't have a witty response prepared for that. He opens his mouth as if to say something, before closing it without a word. You knew from Castiel that angels didn't sweat or blush, much less from embarrassment, but staring at Gabriel, you’re damn sure that he was wrong.

"Did you come here to explain yourself, or just bring up something that happened weeks ago without elaboration?" You chew at the inside of your cheek furiously, trying desperately to focus on anything other than the heat rising along your neck.

Gabriel doesn’t seem to like your sudden accusation. He tilts his head down slightly with a frown, his flush now completely gone as he bites at his own cheek subconsciously. He mirrors you without even realizing it. "Uhm, sweetheart, from what I can recall, shifters tend to tap into your hidden desires."

"I don’t want to hear it from the guy who couldn't stick around long enough to clean up his messes." You ignore the spike of anxiety you felt all of a sudden, choosing to keep your voice devoid of any emotions as you pin him in place with one look. You refuse to confirm or deny his statement.

Neither of you seem to know what to say after that. For the first time since you had met him, Gabriel was anything but smiles, and you couldn't decide if that made you uncomfortable, or sad.

You watch as a handful of emotions shadow his face. Some you can pinpoint— anger, hesitation, guilt —and some you can’t. You aren’t sure if the same story is currently being played out on your face, but judging on the way his eyes soften after finally taking a proper look at you, you bet that was the case.

He takes a deep breath, letting it out as he carefully makes his way to sit on the edge of your bed.

"You want to know why I really dropped by?" He watches you as you nod at him quickly, pushing him to continue. "To apologize."

Gabriel almost calls you sugar, but stops himself before he could. Now is not the time. Not while he's thinking about how tight your grip is around your jacket sleeves right now, and most certainly not while he's remembering how it felt when the shifter walked up to him with your smile, offering him something he hadn't thought twice about refusing.

You don't say anything. You don't do much of anything but breathe, letting the rise and fall of your chest mark each passing second. He takes that as a sign to continue, despite how much he wants to snap himself away at the moment.

"I'm not exactly a model citizen. Or angel. You've probably gathered that much." He says in one quick breath, slurring his words a little more than normal. "I make stupid decisions, and I don't exactly have the best track record about cleaning them up."

You mumble something under your breath. Gabriel stops himself, allowing you a chance to speak up in case you wanted to. When you don't, he swallows, and continues

"I understand if you want to tell Dean and Sam to kick me out, hell I figured you would have done it yourself by now.” He seems frustrated— whether it’s with himself or something else, you don’t know —and it doesn't take a genius to see it. Gone is his usual bravado and pop culture references, replaced with a bouncing leg and an uncharacteristically nervous tone. “I just wanted to say sorry for kissing you. It. Them. Whatever.”

You blink.

"Wait." You tilt your head down and shake it, eyebrows furrowed with a look of confusion. "That's what you're apologizing for?"

He pauses, hands pushed in his pockets like he doesn't know what to do with them. Something akin to confusion flickers across his face.

"..yes?"

You push yourself off the wall, unfolding your arms and rubbing your face as if trying to ground yourself. He watches as your lips press into a fine line. He tells himself now is not the right time to be staring at your lips. He doesnt stop.

"Gabriel, I'm not mad at you for that."

The angel finally tears his gaze away to look opposite you, feeling more confused than he has in a hot minute. "You're not?"

"No, you giant, winged dumbass." You nearly roll your eyes. "I'm not mad at you because you kissed a shifter that looked like me. If anything, that's understandable. Weirder shit has happened to me, trust.” You pause to crack the smallest of smiles. “I’m assuming Sam and Dean didn't tell you about the time a demon kissed Sam while wearing me?” You direct your question at him, and nod firmly when he shakes his head no.

“See, I can handle shit like that. The difference between back then, and now, is that me and Sam actually talked after exercising that bitch. You just took your unbelievably big ego and flew away that night like a dickhead.”

Anger hadn’t come immediately with his departure, you knew that. Sitting on that street curb, the most you had felt faint disappointment blanketed with a weird sense of not knowing what to do. Really you hadn’t been able to focus on it for more than a minute before Sam and Dean were dragging you and your blood soaked outfit off to the motel to peel out of there. But in the week it had taken him to show up again, you had time to think. Time to go over every detail you could pull from that afternoon, and time to grow increasingly pissed off with the angel for how he left. No matter how many hot feelings the thought of your lips kissing him stirred up.

“I'm mad because you didn't stay to fucking talk, Gabriel, not because you did something I would have without a second thought. Owning up to your shit means a lot to me, and that is the one, glaring thing that you missed that night." You tell him point blank.

In the silence that follows, you debate sitting next to him on the bed for a moment before giving in, planting yourself a good few feet away from him as he tracks you with his eyes.

Gabriel looks like he has absolutely no idea what to say. He sits there, replaying your entire conversation with him in his head as if that would somehow make it make more sense. You give him time, and as you do, you inexplicably feel the last of your anger begin to evaporate.

”Wait— something you would have done without a second thought?” His eyes slowly make their way around the perimeter of the room before landing on you.

"Fucking angels and their social skills." You rub your temples with closed eyes, a bit or irritation seeping into your tone. "And I thought you were better at this communicating stuff than your little brother."

Gabriel ignores the obvious poke at his ego via Cas in favor of holding his hand out as if to signal a time out.

”Correct me if I’m wrong, but you just said you would have kissed me if given the chance.”

”That is not the point I was trying to make.”

“But one that you still made.” He points a finger at you. You don’t redden, but you feel your face become hot once more. More so out of awkwardness than anything.

“This is not how I wanted a talk between us to go.” You muttered. Gabriel tried not to show how excited he had become again over the past few seconds, stomping it down to give you a minute.

“Well, how would you have wanted it to go?” He settles on asking. You look at him like he’s making a joke, and not a very good one.

“Not in my pajamas after basically admitting to you I would have liked to be on the receiving end of that necking.”

“Humor me then.” He tilts his head. You take a moment to deduce if he’s being serious or not. When you can’t find any hint of a joke or lie, you start.

“I would have liked to talk, mostly. Figure out how you got in that position, and then ask why you stayed. And if things went well enough and the boys were still out of earshot, maybe ask if you’d like to go hunting with me again.”

”That would have been..” He hesitates. “..nicer than what actually happened.”

”That being said—“ You hold up a hand. “—that would not have been a light offer.” You tell him. “I’m not exactly the best guy to get with, Gabe. The last person who I tried to go out with ended up with black eyes, and not because they got beat up. Why do you think I talked about suggesting a hunt instead of Olive Garden?”

”You think being with an angel is any easier?” He uses his signature move, cocking a brow at you.

“That wasn't and invitation to start a dick measuring contest.” You remind both him and yourself. “All I meant by it was that this is a bigger decision than we both probably think. For one, Dean’s going to deep fry you in holy fire when he finds out any of what happened last week, and I don't even know if it's allowed for a human to go out with an angel.”

”Sweets, you basically just put a date with you on the table. Who cares if it’s allowed, I’ll make it allowed.” He offers that up like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just offer to change the rules to heaven at a chance to sit down and watch a movie with you. “As for our very own Dean? Don’t worry, I can handle him. Father knows I’ve done it before, no sweat.”

“That’s good.” You muse with a playful look. “Especially considering he sent me a text a few minutes ago about the angel trap he’s setting up outside my door for you.”

Gabriel let out a hearty laugh no sooner than when you finished your sentence. Something about the visual of Dean hunched over outside your door with a jug of holy oil in hand was more amusing than he’d like to admit.

You smile while he laughs, unable to help yourself. Any remnants of your sour mood from this past week is old news by now. ”Hey, apparently you ruined his breakfast. In the Winchester household, that's a criminal offense.”

“Good thing I’ve got a badass hunter on my side.” He peers at you from under his lashes, still laughing.

“Not just yet, casanova. Take me to dinner first, then we’ll talk.” You halt him, closing your eyes and scrunching your nose with a laugh in a way that made Gabriel want to replicate that night with the shapeshifter; only this time with the real deal.

“That’s the plan.” He says with a cocky grin, and snaps his fingers. You don't need to know anything about angels to know he’s gone, the flutter of wings echoing in your head.

You're not disappointed by his disappearing act this time.

No less than a minute later, when you’re standing up once more to stretch your sore muscles, you hear a faint yell from outside your door, followed by familiar laughter. The sound reminds you of sunshine, and everything sweet.

You smile.

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x y/n #gabriel #gabriel x reader #gabriel x you #gabriel x y/n #gabriel spn #gabriel spn x reader #gabriel spn x you #gabriel spn x y/n #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #x reader #one shot

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cuntiel · 3 months ago

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via-l0ve · 1 year ago

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Hey pookie, how are you! I was wondering if you could do a romantic spn pref for sam, dean, castiel, crowley, and gabe? The plot would be that they're on a hunt with the reader and they have to infiltrait a strip club. The reader is female so she poses as a striper (she wears a white angle outfit). At one she pulls she pulls one of the guys into a private room to talk about the plan, but they see a camera in the room so the reader gives the guy a lap dance while explaining the plan as to not get caught. There is alot of sexual tension, and the guys have a crush on the reader. At this point they're only friends though. Thanks girl!

Private. (SPN Pref!) ❤️

a/n: i devoured this prompt. i am in heat. i hope you like this pookie!!!

warnings: SUGGESTIVE!!! read at your own risk, strip club, stripper!reader, lap dances, grinding, no actual smut but nsfw xx

Dean:

dean didn’t imagine this being his wednesday night.

his eyes watched you on the stage, walking around and pretending to be busy. the dainty Angel costume you were wearing hugged you in all the right places - just enough for him to imagine more.

in his distraction, he dosent realize you’re trying to get his attention.

he was suddenly pulled into one of the back, private rooms. he looked over and met your pretty eyes. he smiled.

“dean, i got info.” you smiled, closing and locking the door behind you both.

he was going to respond but his eyes caught something else. a camera. it seemed like you noticed too because you sighed.

dena watched you pull the chair to where the camera faced.

“sit.” you said in a seductive voice.

it’s just for the bit.’ dean reminded himself. he shakily sat down.

you walked toward him, back facing the camera. his eyes widened and face blushed as you started to give him a lap dance.

he was stiff as a board, too nervous to move.

“at least pretend you like it. we have to sell it so we don’t get caught.” you whisper in his ear, pressing kisses to his jawline.

shivers went down his spine and he nodded, grabbing onto your hips.

he stared into your eyes as you spoke, only being able to focus on the feeling of your hips on his, moving and grinding against him. his jaw clenched and he bit his lip, rubbing your hips with his thumbs.

you spoke about the case but he could barley hear you.

eventually you stopped, smiling at him.

“pay up, lover.” you grinned playfully.

he tried to hide his boner, giving you a forced smile as you walked away. his breath heavy and cheeks beet red.

—

Sam:

sam was nose deep in one of his papers of his research he scraped together. his cheeks were red, trying not to look up at you.

not because he didn’t want to - no. he wanted to. more than anything. but if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look away.

despite his efforts, when he felt a hand on his shoulder he had to look up. it was you.

the white angel outfit you were wearing caught his attention. it was tight and revealing, something he wasn’t used to seeing you in.

“come with me.” you lean down and whisper to him. he just nodded, following you.

he then found himself sitting on a chair in one of the back rooms.

“there’s cameras. i have to play my part sammy.” you said to him, and he nodded

“anything you want.”

he blushed again as you started to give him a lap dance. his eyes widened.

you spoke softly about the case, but he could only focus on your body and how it moved atop of his own.

he pretended he was listening, but he was struggling. only feeling the fogginess of his mind and the weight of your body on his lap.

it was over much too soon for his liking

you got off of him and smiled.

“maybe we do this more often.” you said with a smirk.

—

Castiel:

poor boy

remember when he first went to the strip club

that’s him but x10 when he sees you

he’d never seen you in such clothing. not that he was complaining at all. if anything, he was ecstatic about it.

when you met his eyes from across the room, he got up and walked toward you immediately. you didn’t even have to ask (😍)

he followed you into the back rooms.

“cas. i gotta give you a lap dance.”

“what?”

“i’ve gotta play my part. is this okay?”

“…yes?”

castiel didn’t know what a lap dance was.

so when you started to actually do it

wowowowowow

he was gobsmacked.

his hands rested on your waist and he let you do whatever you had to do.

he bit back moans as he was so sensitive

but he listened intently to what you had to say about the case. his hips moved slightly with your body and his face was bright red.

he focused on your words but his eyes drank in how you moved against him and how his hands squeezed your hips

he could feel his dick throbbing against his jeans but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it

you got off of him eventually and he stayed sitting.

“c’mon. we gotta go.” you grinned and walked out before him. he was left with shaking hands and a red face.

—

Crowley:

he watched all of the people at the club with wandering eyes, stopping when he saw you

your outfit fit you perfectly and hugged you in all the right places

crowleys eyes wandered down your body as you came closer to him.

“come.” you said softly, leading him to the private rooms. he smirked.

“now, i didn’t know you wanted this, y/n.”

you just smirk and sit him down in the chair.

you start the lap dance, bringing your mouth close to his ear and whispering the plan to him, grinding your hips against his.

his hands ran over your body and hips, feeling the curves of your body and the softness of your skin

he was grinning, listening to the plan while also enjoying the thrusts and movements of your body

he wanted you to continue for hours. days. forever

but when you got off of him, he had to refrain from pulling you back onto his lap.

—

Gabe:

his eyes were on you from the start

he watched you with a passion, drinking in your appearance and how your white costume looked on your body.

the body he’d dreamed about seeing for months

that’s why he follows you into the back room without question

that’s also why he has to bite back moans when you start grinding against his lap, dancing

he watches with wide eyes, trying to listen to your words but drowning them out as he squirmed against your body weight

he gripped your hips and waist just a little bit too hard

he nodded along to the plan he wasn’t following, just watching your hips and body against his own

he let a groan slip from his lips at one point

his hips moving in rut him with your own

literally driving him insane.

but he’s not complaining

#love u mwah #thank you sm for this request #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #crowley #crowley x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #sam winchester supernatural #castiel supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #gabriel x reader #gabriel spn #supernatural fic

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ghoastixx · 7 months ago

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SPN Boys w/ angel wing tattoo gn! reader

Synopsis: The Supernatural boys reaction to finding out you have angel wings tattooed onto your back.

Warnings: Mention of possible innuendos

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Dean

When he sees them for the first time, he's suspicious. He's seen angels, knowing how tricky they can get.. Perhaps you were just another trick of Heaven to make him vulnerable. He doesn't like it

Once you both confirm that no, you are in fact not an angel, he chills out about it a bit.

Definitely asks you if you regret it now that you both know how big of dicks angels are.

Doesn't really ask about it. The most he would do is get drunk and ask why you got it but that's it. He really doesn't care much.

As much as he's indifferent about it, he'd eventually grow to adore it.

"Hey! Angel!" Castiel looks over, "No, not you. Y/N."

I personally think he would like to look at them. He would like it if you wore shirts with the back showing or no shirt at all.. He just wants to see them.

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Sam

Much like his brother, he's a little suspicious at first, would interrogate you.

"Y/N," "Yes Sam?" "What's that tattoo for?" "Which tattoo." "On your back." "Angel wings?" "Yes." "Just liked them." "Oh."

He would trust you, especially if you have other tattoos that don't have to do with hunting or the such.

Would ask you about them, constantly referring to them as "Your wings."

A long day of interrogation of a town? He's patting the spot next to him on the small motel bed saying, "C'mere, I'll rub your wings for 'ya."

Messy hunt? "Go clean your wings off, Y/N."

It's even funnier if Dean doesn't know about the tattoo. He's so confused as to why his brother keeps mentioning you having wings. Assumes it's sexual.

He just..adores them? In a way he feels as if you are an angel sent to keep him in line.

He'd rather have you than other angels anyways.

Would 100% call you angel out of it. Forget any other nickname he may of been trying out, you are now just angel.

"So, angel, get this.."

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Castiel

He doesn't understand at first. At all. He will ask you about it.

"Why are you pretending to be an angel?" "Excuse me?" "You have wings drawn on.." "Oh, my tattoo?"

Once you explain it to him, he calms down a bit, but he's still a bit confused. Why did you get it, why angel wings? Why the specific design? Why on your back? Did it hurt? Lots of questions.

He likes them. Why wouldn't he? It makes him feel closer to you in a way.

Dean will refer to you two as "the match made in heaven."

It's cheesy.

I think Castiel would like tracing over them with his finger, dedicating it to mind.

He likes having something in common with you, in a way. He thinks it's endearing.

"Y/N," "Yes, angel?" "Take your shirt off," "Oh-Cas-" "I would like to examine your tattoo."

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Gabriel

Oh this cocky bastard.

He's honored, for starters, or at least that's what he says.

"oh-Baby, what's that you got there?" "Gabriel, what are you talking about." "Those delicious wings you've been hiding from me."

He understands the concept of tattoos more than Castiel does, so he doesn't have too many questions.

He just thinks that they are hot, and honestly he is so valid for that.

"I mean- these are almost better than the real things!"

He likes to tease you about them, since he's in fact the inspo.

But, happy spouse is a happy house, he does constantly talk about how much he likes them. Constantly.

"C'mon sugar, let me see them again, please???" He loves to look at it, touch it, etc.

He gets sad when he remembers you don't actually have wings.

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Lucifer

I do not think he'd be a fan.

Sure, he stands you as a human, but.. a human pretending to be an angel?

"Darling, you realize you're not an angel, correct?" "Yes, Luci." "Just making sure."

Sure, he wouldn't say anything about it to drive you away, but he thinks you have a lot of nerve.

He doesn't like to think about it too much.

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Crowley

Bud does not really like them much due to what they represent but he really doesn't care.

He'd go so far as to just call you an angel to go along with it.

he's really indifferent about it :/

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #castiel #castiel x reader #gabriel x reader #lucifer spn #spn x reader #spn #crowley

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 6 months ago

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Chances

Sam and Dean & nephilim!reader, Cas & nephilim!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Gabriel messes around and ends up creating a nephilim, and Cas is tasked with keeping the kid safe.

A/N: guys I finally finished a request! Hopefully the next one won’t take me so long, you guys have been so patient as I start up college again.

“I need you to do something for me.”

Gabriel’s appearance at the bunker a month after Angel radio went nuts over a nephilim’s creation was unexpected and unwanted, to say the least.

“From us?” Dean narrowed his eyes at the archangel. “Don’t tell me you’re the one who—“

“Not you, Winchesters. I’m talking to Castiel.”

Castiel looked up in surprise at this declaration.

“My help? And why would I—“

“The nephilim is mine. And she’s growing fast.”

“She?” Sam asked. Gabe offered him a half glance.

“Yes, she. I can feel it. And she’s going to be born any day now.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Castiel demanded.

“I can’t keep her safe,” Gabriel admitted after a moment’s hesitation, his features tightened. “If I get anywhere near her, there’s a line of enemies that will follow. I need her somewhere safe, and I can’t take her there.” Gabriel swallowed, glancing at the brothers before looking back at Castiel. “This is the safest place I could think of.” Before Dean could interrupt, Gabriel raised his voice and continued. “The warding will keep out most enemies, and it’s nearly undetectable to angels.”

“We can’t just house a nephilim!” Dean exclaimed. “Not happening. No way.”

“I have no other options, no one else to go to,” Gabriel pleaded. “She’s just a baby—“

“A baby with power,” Sam added. “And we don’t know how much power.”

“She’s innocent,” Gabriel added. “She’s just a baby, and she doesn’t deserve to get hunted down like this. There’s nowhere else she can go—it’s either the bunker, or she’s dead.”

This time, Gabriel’s argument was met with silence. Castiel was the first to break it.

“You want me to retrieve her, and bring her here.”

“It’s her only chance.” None of the boys had ever seen Gabriel look so humble—so vulnerable.

“I’ll do it.”

“Cas—“

“No, Dean,” Cas interrupted him. “I have to do this.”

“Let us come with you,” Sam spoke up.

“Sam!” Dean turned to his brother, thunderstruck.

“No,” Cas said. “I should go alone, it’s safer.”

“You shouldn’t be going at all!” Dean insisted. “We don’t know what—“

“This being deserves a chance,” Cas interrupted. “And I’m going to give it to her.”

…

Gabriel left quickly to go into hiding, and Cas left soon after. The address Gabriel gave him was only a few hours away, but when Cas got there he arrived to a surprise.

The mother—Cas had no idea who she was—was already dead. Cas was just beginning to panic when he heard crying, and he rounded the bed to see you—a little toddler, crying on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Hey, hey it’s alright,” Cas soothed as he wrapped a nearby blanket around your shivering, unclothed body. “Hey, you’re safe now.” He had no idea how or why you were already a toddler, but he figured it didn’t matter—as long as he could get you safe.

You stopped crying as soon as you were in Cas’s arms, your big Y/E/C eyes blinking up at the angel.

“You’re going to be alright little one,” Cas said. “I promise.”

Considering the dead woman on the bed not three feet away, Cas felt that his promise was less than convincing, but you relaxed completely into him, your little arms wrapping around his neck and holding on tight.

Cas carried you out to his car—he wasn’t so sure about angel transportation with a newborn nephilim, so human transportation was his choice—while keeping his eyes peeled for any interference, of which there was, thankfully, none.

“I suppose I should get you some food and some clothing,” Castiel said, mostly to himself, although if you spoke up he’d be grateful. You didn’t, though; you just blinked up at him with those big eyes, and Cas felt more lost than ever.

He knew enough about humans—and you were at least half human—to know that babies only drank milk, and as they got older they gained an affinity for solid foods. But you were somewhere between a newborn and a toddler. Would milk be enough to sustain you? Would you even understand how to eat solid foods? It was all confusing for an angel who already felt out of his depth.

Castiel stopped at the first store he came across, and he carried you with him—you were still wrapped in that blanket he had grabbed from your mother’s house—as he started to grab anything he thought he’d need to take care of you, including a lot he probably didn’t need. As soon as he’d paid for everything, he carried you into the family restroom so he could get you into the clothes he’d picked up, as you still seemed too young to be capable of dressing yourself.

“Alright,” Castiel said after you were dressed, looking at you long and hard for a moment before sighing in near-defeat. “I don’t know why your father picked me for this mission, Sam or Dean would be much better at—“ a crash from somewhere outside the restroom had Castiel whipping around, prepared for a threat. But the door remain closed, and whatever had made noise was now silent.

Castiel turned back around only when he felt a tug on his arm. He looked down to see you—but he didn’t have to look as far down as he expected. Cas blinked in surprise, taking in the sight of you, now maybe six inches taller and a few years older, the clothes on you stretched and far too small.

“What…” Cas breathed, unsure what to even ask.

You just tugged at his hand again, gripping it firmly in your shaking hands.

“I’m scared.” It was the first words Cas had heard you speak, and they snapped him back into focus.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Now how did you get so big?”

You just blinked up at Cas, apparently unwilling to speak again.

“It’s ok,” Cas sighed. “It doesn’t matter, I just…let’s get you some bigger clothes and get you out of here.”

Cas led you out towards the clothing section, turning his back on you for just a second to find the right size. But once he turned around again, you were gone.

“Hey!” Cas realized just then that he didn’t know your name. He whirled around frantically, trying to catch sight of you between the racks of clothing. He rushed down aisle after aisle, freezing when he got to the third one and saw a girl that looked suspiciously like you, but was now three inches taller, being cornered by a large man whose eyes flashed black.

Cas didn’t speak, he just took four large strides, and as soon as the demon turned to look at him, he stretched out his hand and placed it against the demon’s forehead. There was a flash of light behind the demon’s eyes, and he dropped to the floor after only a second. You looked from the dead demon to Castiel in awe.

“Why do you keep getting bigger?” Castiel sighed, bending down slightly to look you in the eye.

“I wasn’t big enough to stop him.” Your voice came out in a quiet whimper—you were shaking in fear. “It was scary, so I wanted to get bigger, and…and then I just did.” Your big eyes were gonna be the death of Cas, he just knew it; especially when they were filled with tears like now. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Hey, no, it’s ok, it’s just…not many people can do that. Most people have to say the size they are until they grow.” You still looked concerned, so Cas waved it off. “It doesn’t matter, you didn’t do anything wrong. Now let’s get you into some bigger clothes and get you safe.”

At this point, you looked like a young teenager, so Castiel went to a different clothes section to find you something. You held his hand the whole way, which Cas was grateful for—he didn’t want to lose you again.

Cas picked up a size for you and sent you off to put it on, making sure he could see you entering and leaving the bathroom. While you were gone, he grabbed about three more sizes in case you spontaneously grew again.

“I’m ready,” you said as you returned to Castiel.

“Ok…” Cas stared at you for a moment. “Do…do you know your name?”

“My name…” you pondered the question for a long moment. “Yes, I…Y/N. I remember my mother calling me that…before I was born. She named me Y/N.”

Cas smiled.

“Ok then. Y/N it is.”

…

Once you were ready, Cas led you out to his car and the two of you were finally on your way again. The car went along in silence for several miles, but Cas could tell you were contemplating something, and after a while you finally got up the courage to speak.

“Are you my father?”

The question shouldn’t have surprised Cas, but he froze up the moment it left your mouth.

“I…no, I’m not,” he said finally. “Your father’s name is Gabriel. He wanted to be here, really, but it was too dangerous. He…let’s just say he has a lot of enemies.”

“Is that why my mother is dead?�� Your voice was more subdued this time, and the question again froze Castiel.

“No, little one,” Cas began hesitantly. How could he tell you that your mother died giving birth to you? “Your mother, she…she chose to save you, rather than herself.”

“Save me?” You prodded. “Is it because I…I can do things, like grow?”

“Kind of.” Castiel ran a hand over his face, willing the car ride to end. “Your father is an archangel, and that makes you a nephilim. But your mother, she was just a human. She…she couldn’t bring you into this world and survive, her body wasn’t strong enough.”

Your silence was starting to scare Cas more than your questions.

“So…so I killed my mom?” It was with tears in your eyes that you finally spoke again.

“No,” Castiel insisted. “No, you did not choose any of this, this isn’t your fault. Your mother and father made their choices, you’re just the result of them. But your mother’s death is not on you.”

“It still feels like it is,” you mumbled. “How…how do I miss someone I’ve never met?” You blinked up at Cas, and he swore he’d never felt more out of his depth.

“Look, I…I know that you don’t have your parents here right now, but I’m going to look after you. I’m going to take you to a safe place, and I promise that you’re going to be alright.”

“Why are you helping me?” You asked. Cas barely had to think about the answer to this.

“Because I believe that you deserve a chance, the same as anyone else. You’ve got powers, little one. Powers that might scare some people. But I think that you’re good, and I’m not scared of you just because of your strength.”

“What if I’m not good?” Your gaze faltered, falling away from Cas’s. “What if you should be scared of me?”

“Good isn’t something that you’re born as,” Cas said. “It’s something you choose. You can choose good, if you want to.”

“I do,” you insisted. “I just…I don’t think I know how.”

A hint of a smile crossed Cas’s lips.

“Well I can try to teach you. And my friends, they will too.”

…

The rest of the ride to the bunker passed uneventfully, but Cas began to get nervous the closer he got to the bunker. He was all but forcing this nephilim onto Sam and Dean, so how would they react when he arrived? Would they be scared of you, or force Cas to leave? Would they not want to put themselves in danger to help some non-human?

It didn’t seem like the Sam and Dean that Cas knew, but then again they’d never been presented with a nephilim before.

“Your friends.” Your words startled Cas out of his thoughts. “Are they…like you?”

“You mean angels?” Cas had explained who he was to you. “No, no they’re human. But they like to help people. I believe they’ll help you.” Cas had to believe it—he had to.

…

“You’re back.” Dean’s greeting seemed less then happy as he stared Cas down. “Where’s the—“

“Hello.”

Dean‘s gaze whipped around from Cas to you as you stepped up beside Cas.

“What the—I thought she was just born.” Dean looked back at Cas, questions swimming behind his eyes.

“She was, she uh…she grew up fast,” Cas offered lamely.

“Why?” Sam spoke up for the first time, eying you nervously, but he didn’t look as threatening as Dean.

“I got scared,” you said. “So I had to grow up fast.”

“What’s your name?” Sam asked before Dean could say anything else.

“I’m Y/N.” Sam noticed the way you were almost hiding behind Cas. He couldn’t tell if you were scared of him, or just shy, but either way he tried to make himself look as non threatening as possible.

“Well, I’m Sam and this is my brother, Dean. C’mon down here and we can show you where to sleep.” Sam pointedly ignored Dean’s glare. “Do you need anything to eat?”

“No, I’m not hungry,” you decided after a moment of pondering.

“Good, now you can explain to us what kind of powers you have and how you plan to use them,” Dean cut in, ignoring the glares from Sam and Cas.

“I…” the question froze you, and Cas jumped in.

“Dean, it’s been a long day. Just let her get some sleep.”

“Oh, sure, and while she’s sleeping, every demon and angel on earth is pulling out all the stops to get to her! I mean she could be working with any of them!”

“Why would she work with them?” Sam demanded. “They want her dead.”

“Yeah, or they want to use her powers! She could’ve cut a deal with them.”

“Dean, she’s just a kid,” Cas interjected.

“Yeah, a kid who was a baby a couple hours ago. She’s not normal, she’s a freak! Who knows what else she’ll do?”

“Dean, calm down—“ Sam’s attempt at keeping the peace just made Dean angrier.

“Calm down?! We have a nephilim in our house, and we don’t know what it can do!”

“She’s not an i-“ Cas’s interruption went completely unnoticed by Dean.

“And we don’t know what side it’s on! Gabriel was always switching sides, what makes you think this kid is gonna be any different?”

“Dean, she doesn’t even know Gabriel,” Cas argued.

“But he’s still the father. She could still—“

“Stop it!” Your outburst froze all three men, and it took you a prolonged minute to realize why; they couldn’t move. By just your word, you’d rendered them incapable of doing anything but stare at you—Sam and Cas in amazement, Dean in anger. “I didn’t…” your gaze focused on Cas, almost pleading with him to help you. “I-I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—I don’t know how to stop it.” You stared down at your hands, and then back up. “I didn’t mean it! Let them go!”

The three men moved simultaneously as their joints relaxed and their legs moved. Dean took a half step back from you, Sam stayed where he was, and Cas came up to stand in front of you.

“It’s ok,” he whispered as you started to shake. “I know you didn’t mean to, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I don’t think I can control this.”

Cas knelt down, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

“I know you can. I’m going to help you.”

“Me too.” You hadn’t noticed Sam approaching you until his hand was on your shoulder. “I know a little bit about self control.”

Dean lingered in the corner, wariness etched onto his features, but the anger was somewhat dissipated.

“Come with me,” Sam continued—he was still ignoring Dean’s glares. “I’ll get you settled in.”

You let Sam lead you down a hallway. You could hear Dean start to yell at Castiel the moment you left the room, and Cas was yelling right back.

“Uh, this room is empty,” Sam said, stopping in front of a door. “So you can use it.”

“Ok,” you mumbled, standing in front of the door and rocking back and forth on your heels. “I’m sorry for being so much trouble,” you added, your head ducked low.

“Your dad has helped us out before,” Sam said. “So I’m glad you’re here—I want to help you.”

“Dean said my dad did bad stuff, too,” you said.

“Yeah, he…is a complicated man.” Sam shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “Well, anyway…” Sam opened up the door to your room, stepping back so you could go inside. You took a hesitant step inside before turning around and looking up at Sam, as if worried he was going to leave.

“What should I do if the demons or angels come inside?” You asked, your voice tight and high pitched.

“Hey.” Sam put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that, trust me. They don’t know where this place is, and it’s warded. They can’t get to you, we won’t let them.”

Your features visibly relaxed.

“Ok.” You found yourself wrapping your arms around the kind man before you’d really made the decision to do it. “Thank you.”

He was stiff for a moment, but quickly he reciprocate the hug.

“You’re gonna be ok,” he promised.

…

The next week passed about as Cas had expected, although even he was surprised at how eager Sam was to help you. Sam hung around the bunker the entire week, getting you used to life on earth and everything you didn’t know.

Dean however, remained fairly hostile. But things weren’t as bad as they’d been the first day, and Cas was even starting to notice Dean warm up to you in little ways; making a little extra food at breakfast, letting you join him in the Dean cave when he was watching something—things like that.

You might have gotten too comfortable around Dean based on his attitude, because when Dean announced to the general area that he had found a hunt you spoke up—

“I’ll help!”

The trio of men looked over at you with varying degrees of surprise.

“Are you sure?” Cas asked.

“No!” Dean insisted. “You’re staying here, I’m not babysitting some kid on the hunt.”

“I don’t want you to babysit me,” you argued. “I want to help.”

“Sam, help me out here,” Dean demanded. When Sam seemed reluctant, Dean groaned, “oh come on!”

“Well, maybe she can help!” Sam offered. “Give her a chance.”

Dean glanced from Sam to Cas, hoping one of them would break. When they didn’t, he huffed in annoyance, but his shoulders slumped.

“Fine.”

…

The long car ride was going surprisingly well. Dean’s music was your first introduction to the art, and your enthusiastic response instantly gained you brownie points with Dean.

Each and every song that came on elicited the same response from you—

“Is this the best one?”

And every time the brothers would respond at the same time, Dean with a “yes!” And Sam with a “no!” All in all, Cas couldn’t have asked for a better bonding experience.

“Alright,” Dean said after a while, turning the music down. “We’ll be there soon, so we need to talk this out. From all appearances, it’s a vampire—a nest, actually. Now as soon as we locate it, I want Sam and Cas to be ready with the dead man’s blood, and…” Dean seemed to be rethinking his plan for a moment, before he made up his mind… “and I want the kid with me.” Dean’s eyes met yours in the rearview mirror, and his voice was suddenly more firm. “You need to be careful, and you need to not be in the way. Do you understand me?”

You were trying to hide your excited smile as you replied.

“Yes sir.”

…

You didn’t help. Or stay out of the way. In fact, barring lost limbs or lives, the hunt couldn’t have gone much worse, and you knew it was your fault.

Your first sight of a vampire scared you so much, that some of your nephilim energy came from you without you planning on it, blasting several vamps—and unfortunately Dean—away from you. Unfortunately, that blast of power had you thinking that maybe you could take on the vamps magically. This tactic just meant that you got in Dean’s way, and your magic didn’t respond the way you wanted it to—it didn’t respond at all.

Because of this, nearly half the vampires got away, and the ones that didn’t went straight for the easy target; you.

You were on the floor with a vampire drinking from your neck before Dean was even able to start swinging. He took out the two vampires that went for him before he able to get to you. He pried the vampire away from your neck before taking care of it with a single swing.

“Are you crazy?!” You were gasping for breath, blood mingling with sweat and tears as you tried to calm down while Dean yelled at you. “I told you to be careful! I told you not to get in the way! You could’ve—“ Dean cut himself off with a huff, turning to look for any remaining vampires. “I’ve gotta go find the nest before they get to Cas and Sam. You stay here.” The look Dean gave you before he left ensured your complete obedience to his order.

You slumped down onto the floor, drained and desperate to calm down. How could you have screwed up so badly, and right when Dean was finally starting to trust you?

You were finally able to breathe normally again by the time Dean returned with Sam and Cas in tow.

“A few of them got away,” Dean grumbled. “But they’re long gone now, and without their nest I don’t think they’re coming back.

“Dean, I didn’t—“ you barely got a couple of words out before Dean cut you off.

“Don’t! No, I don’t want to hear it. You could’ve gotten killed, you could’ve gotten one of us killed!”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted. “Dean, we should go. She’s hurt, and so is Cas—he’s too weak to heal, we gotta regroup.”

Dean led the dejected group to the Impala, but as soon as the car was on the road the yelling started up again. Sam and Cas were too tired to stop Dean, so you curled up in your corner of the Impala and listened to Dean’s criticisms of all you had done wrong. Within minutes, the words seemed to blend into each other and all you could hear was the anger in his tone and the harsh beating of your heart. You could feel the adrenaline still pumping in your veins, but it only seemed to highlight your fear and the pain in your neck and the tears that were building behind your eyes. The toxic combination seemed to build up until it was all you could feel, and it felt like anything more would make you snap—

“I mean how could you be so stupid?!”

That was it.

“Stop it!” Dean looked taken aback at your outburst. “I know that I screwed it all up, and I’m sorry! I’m sorry that Cas got hurt, and I’m sorry that the vampires got away. But I can’t fix that now, and I’m freaking out and I’m bleeding and I don’t want to listen to you yell anymore! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll say it as much as you want to hear it, just stop yelling at me!”

It was a good thing that the Impala was nearing the bunker, otherwise the four of you would’ve suffocated on the silence in the car.

“Come with me,” Dean told you as you all stepped out of the car. Cas started forwards, but Dean waved him off. “Go fix that—“ he gestured at the wound on Cas’s side—it wasn’t deep, but it was long. “I’ve got her.”

Neither Cas nor Sam argued; they just went off to their own rooms to get cleaned off. You trailed behind Dean as if you were marching to your death sentence. He noticed this about halfway down the hallway.

“I’m not going to yell at you again,” he insisted. “So relax.”

The tension in your shoulders eased, but you still didn’t speak as Dean led you to his room and instructed you to sit on his bed while he disappeared into the bathroom. He returned a moment later with a first aid kit in hand, the anger on his face all but gone.

“Let me see it.”

You pulled your hair to the side so Dean could get at the bite marks on your neck. You weren’t sure why you couldn’t heal yourself the way Cas sometimes could—maybe you were just too scared to figure out your powers now—but Dean didn’t question it; he just got to fixing the problem.

“This is gonna sting,” he warned you as he soaked a cotton ball with alcohol before pressing it to your neck. You forced yourself not to hiss in pain, but you couldn’t hold back the way your face twitched and your shoulder flinched. Dean didn’t comment, though.

“I am sorry,” you mumbled as Dean quietly continued to clean your wound.

“I know,” he replied simply. “I don’t think I can trust you on hunts anymore, but I do get that you’re sorry. And maybe I went a little too hard on you, ok? So how ‘bout we just forgive each other and move on. Maybe…maybe start over.”

“Ok,” you said, your lips twitching into a smile. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Despite himself, Dean chuckled.

“Don’t be a dork,” he insisted. But after a moment’s pause he continued— “I’m Dean. It’s nice to meet you too.”

And the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence as Dean finished patching up your neck. His concerned features each time you hissed in pain, and his gentle touch so as not to hurt you, had you thinking one thing;

This is one heck of a second chance.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

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kaivenom · 3 months ago

Text

The SPN boys perfect date with you

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Gabriel "The Trickster", Jack Kline, Castiel

A/N: for the first time on a long time writing something that isnt one piece😂. The anime and the manga are on pause and i am crying🥲

Masterlist

Sam Winchester

Probably a date at home, ordering food and watching movies with you, the while cozy treatment.

Picking you Up at your home and ordering the take away on some restaurat, picking a cofee and getting to the bunker with you.

Eating while watching bad movies, anything you want to see and laughing cause It's probably a bad horror movie.

Reading in silence with your bodies entaged and sharing little mischevious looks.

And of course, at some point you start to make out and now you are trapped with him, una le to go back home.

Dean Winchester

Riding with baby, no doubt.

Like Sam, he orders some food with you, but instead of going to the bunker, he gets you to a nice and calm spot, far from society and organize a picnic on top of the impala.

If the weather it's good, there IS probably a river or lake near by to swim.

If the weather it's bad you stay inside the impala, eating and playing cards,

And like Sam, he can get a little to much needy and even if you are outside on the lake or inside the impala, he Will start to make out with you and you Will end Up getting frisky on the backseat.

Castiel

Probably at first he doesnt get the concept of date s he follows you with your daily routines.

Now, that he knows what a deate IS, he realizes that his perfect date with you it's the thing that you already had been doing, rutinal things.

Such as cleaning and shopping groceries, anything that helps you with your chores.

And usually, this "dates" end up with a tender moment wich usually is a warm Bath.

So its just the two of you, rubbing each other rubing your sore bodies.

With a slow music playing on the background, bubbles, music and even some wine.

Gabriel "The Trickster"

A party, a buffet, even a brothel, since he can make every scenario posible, everything it's the perfect date, cause It IS with you.

So, you get to choose the when and the where, cause he can materialize It in any second.

He just wants to make you laugh and have a good time, even if it's with the most bizarre or the most common things, i picture this man as a total pleaser.

But, the two things that he Will do no matter what it's eat sweets and feed you with them.

It's his nly condition to make the evening perfect, have you on his lap and put a Candy on your tongue, maybe with his mouth.

Jack Kline

A carnival or a amusement park.

He still has the soul of a child so his perfect date would circle around fun.

Eating pop corn, playing minigolf, trying to win everything on the booths, you still don't know where he got the money,

If he makes you laugh then the night IS a good one.

He finishes the night with a kiss on your doorstep, he saw that on a movie and wanted to try It.

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m4ng0-gh0st · 9 months ago

Text

Spn boys NSFW headcannons (CIS male reader)

Dean

You had to help him out the first few times but after that he got it DOWN.

One of his favorites are you on your knees sucking him off.

He definitely teases you by moving his hand really close to your crotch or sometimes he full on just palms you through your pants when your sat next to him however it highly depends on what is going on and where you guys are at.

If you were one of the "villains" you two definitely used to have hate sex.

If you aren't them you two just have sex to release some steam if it's more of a friends with benefits relationship but if it's a romantic relationship then it's because you two genuinely enjoy having sex

Most definitely rough sex most times but if he has the time and or nobody will be around for a while then it'll be more sensual.

Sam

He more of a groaner than like a moaner/whimperer.

I mean maybe you can get him whimpering 🤷

Don't pull his hair no matter how tempting it is...

He definitely likes you riding him but if you are the dom you then missionary. (He definitely does missionary even when he's Dom)

He does like seeing your face during sex.

Nothing to out of the normal he's pretty simple when it comes to sex.

Castiel

He doesn't make much noise I mean maybe a groan here and there and if you're lucky a moan or whimper.

He's a little clueless when it comes to sex despite him watching the pizza man and the baby sitter... But that's okay! You help him the best you can.

You can definitely get him to moan or whimper if you suck him off.

You most definitely end up the dom most times.

If you like rough sex then he’ll participate but he does enjoy gentle and sensual sex more.

You two have most definitely gotten caught and or have been overheard while having sex.

Crowley

You know he's in the mood when he starts getting handsy.

He'll pull you into his lap or if you guys are around people he'll pull you away or teleport you two away.

This does happen quite often.

You don't really know what you do to make him horny but you do make him horny a lot.

You've two been caught making out somewhere in the bunker because Crowley had pulled you away.

You two have experimented quite a lot.

He denies it but he does really like intimate and soft sex.

He does occasionally like you as the top but when you are the top you are 6/10 times a soft top

He does get whiny and bratty. Mostly when you two have been very busy and haven't had sex in a while.

Definitely sasses you during sex. He has a loud mouth and he can't help himself.

Praise him and he seems fine but on the inside he is DYING

Gabriel

He's even worse than Crowley when it comes to getting handsy.

He is a brat when he's the sub for sure.

Kinky as hell 💀

You've guys practically have tried EVERYTHING.

A little bit after he returned from being tortured you guys basically had a whole day spent on having sex.

He enjoys either making your brain turn to mush or having you turn his brain to mush.

He has a lot of energy and when I say a lot I mean A LOT.

He is a major switch when it comes to you.

Jack

I don't know if it's alright to do some for him since he's technically like 3 but he's fully grown so let me know if it is 😭💀

#supernatural #male reader #male x male reader #smut #dean winchester x male reader #sam winchester x male reader #castiel x male reader #crowley x male reader #gabriel x male reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #crowley #archangel gabriel #gabriel spn #jack kline

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supernotnatural2005 · 6 days ago

Text

The Arrangement - Part One

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean has a conflicting dream about you, his best friend, that has him questioning feelings he'd never allowed to see the light of day before. However, he might not be the only one…

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings/Tags: Swearing, feelings, some spicy times, nothing too heavy...

AN: Happy Release day!!🎉 Honestly, i can’t thank you all enough for the excitement around this series since announcing it! I've fell in love writing this story 🥹 and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Dean smiled lazily as he felt a warm palm slide up his chest, the body behind him pressing closer. Soft lips trailed kisses along his neck and shoulders, sending a shiver down his spine. He hummed in contentment and shifted onto his back, his tired eyes opening to the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

Her eyes sparkled with warmth and mischief, her lips curving into a playful smirk before she leaned down, peppering gentle kisses along his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut again as she sucked lightly at his pulse point, his breath coming quicker. A low groan rumbled from his throat as he gripped her waist, pulling her up into a heated kiss.

Her tongue caressed his, her touch sending fire through his veins. Her hand slid down his abdomen, fingertips grazing lower and lower beneath the sheets, his pulse pounding—

"WAKE UP, LOSER!"

Dean's eyes shot open, his body jolting as the blaring shriek of an airhorn filled his room. He yanked the covers tighter around himself, his heart racing from both the rude awakening and the remnants of his dream.

"What the hell, Y/N?" he growled, glaring at the culprit as he covered his ears. You grinned triumphantly and finally put the airhorn to rest.

Dean huffed, flopping back down on the bed and throwing an arm over his face, trying to will away the heat rising to his cheeks.

What the fuck? Was all he could think, his sleep-addled brain scrambling to make sense of why he’d just had a sex dream about you.

You, meanwhile, were way too chipper for his liking.

"C’mon, Dean-o, up and at ’em." You patted his leg, and he flinched like you’d just burned him. You shot him an odd look, but he ignored it, shifting slightly to make sure the blanket hid the… Predicament he was currently dealing with.

"What’s with the drill sergeant wake-up? Can a guy not sleep in on a Saturday?" He grumbled, voice still rough from sleep, and other things.

You pouted. Actually pouted. And Dean had to force himself to look away from your lips—lips that had just been doing unspeakable things to him in his dream.

"You promised you'd go Christmas shopping with me.” You reminded him, completely unfazed by his mood.

Dean frowned. "That doesn’t sound like something I’d promise."

You hit him with your classic 'don’t bullshit me' look. And, yeah, okay, he remembered now. He'd offered last week, wanting to help you survive the chaos of last-minute shoppers—and use the trip to grab gifts for his own family.

"Fine, yeah. Just give me ten minutes to wake up, alright?" He relented, desperate for you to leave so he could deal with his little… Issue.

“Thanks, Buddy." Your voice was smug, like you knew he’d never actually say no to you. Because, let’s be honest, he never did.

Dean sighed as you closed the door behind you. He let his head fall back against the pillow, running a hand down his face.

What the hell?

Why was he dreaming about you like that? You were his best friend. You’d been inseparable since fourth grade. Sure, you were beautiful, but that had never been an issue before.

…Had it?

Dean groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Nope. Too early for a deep dive into that mess. He rationalised it away—one, you were attractive. Two, you were close. And, statistically speaking, didn’t most guy-girl friendships eventually veer into weird territory at some point?

Yeah. Totally normal. No big deal.

Except… Two hours later, standing in the middle of a lingerie store, Dean realised he was totally screwed.

Before that, he’d spent the last two hours hauling around a bunch of your shopping bags like a damn pack mule. Only one of them happened to be his, with his completed gift purchases for everyone he needed to buy for. Though to be fair to you, your arms were just as full. He was bewildered at your ability to buy so much for so little.

Your immediate family only consisted of three people—Bobby, Ellen, and Jo—but you had argued that you had your friends, his family, and him to buy for. The latter of which, he’d told you not to do.

However, it fell on deaf ears as always. Every Christmas and birthday, it was the same. But Dean couldn’t fault you for it—you always got people gifts that were meaningful to them, and you got so much joy from giving that he could never say anything other than thank you.

What he wasn’t thankful for was your complete inability to stay focused. Every shop you entered, you’d get distracted by little knickknacks, convincing yourself someone needed them, rather than the original item you came for. It made the day so much longer, but despite the fatigue in his arms and the chaos of holiday shoppers, he was enjoying himself.

Though, that was a given with you.

You were naturally a people pleaser, but knowing how much Dean hated shopping, you’d made it your mission to keep him entertained. You’d made him laugh—laugh to the point his belly ached and tears were shed. The day had surprisingly become enjoyable. But then you'd dragged him into this store, and his brain short-circuited.

The window displays alone had him spiralling, lace and silk-covered mannequins taunting him with thoughts he really didn’t need to have. About you. And then you, completely oblivious, pulled a matching red lace bra and thong off a rack, holding them up for inspection.

Dean swallowed hard.

He’d done your laundry before. You two split chores in the apartment, and he’d handled your underwear plenty of times; never thinking twice about it. So why the hell was he suddenly imagining you in them now?

Was this really because of the dream? It had to be.

And then, like you hadn’t already sent him into cardiac arrest, you giggled, holding up another pair. "Hey, check this out—crotchless panties."

Dean barely choked back a groan as you stuck your fingers through the open section like it was the funniest thing in the world. His brain, on the other hand, provided a detailed mental slideshow of all the things he could do to you in them.

Jesus Christ.

He needed air.

"I—uh—I gotta step outside. Promised Sammy I’d call about a gift for Mom," he lied, voice tight.

You barely glanced up. "Okay."

Dean bolted like his life depended on it, shoving through the doors and inhaling the crisp winter air. "What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" He muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

A passing woman gave him a scandalised look as she walked by with her kid. He shot her an apologetic smile before leaning back against the brick wall, blowing out a heavy breath.

He tried to clear his mind, but every time he pushed the R-rated thoughts away, softer images replaced them. The way you smiled. The way you laughed, head thrown back, eyes crinkling. That stupid fluttery feeling hit his stomach again.

Dean frowned.

Was he sick? Hallucinating?

The worst part? You were always the person he talked to when he was confused about something.

But now you were the one person he couldn’t talk to about this.

Another half hour crawled by before you finally emerged from the store, a small bag swinging from your wrist. Dean’s eyes locked onto it like it held the answers to the universe, his mind immediately spiralling.

What the hell did you buy?

He told himself he didn’t care. He really didn’t. But his brain clearly had other plans because now he was picturing you in every single thing you could’ve possibly picked out.

Lingerie? Pyjama's? Something sheer, lace- nope!

He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on literally anything else, but it was a lost cause. By the time you both made it back to the apartment, he felt like his brain had been put through a damn blender.

You, however, were completely unbothered, tossing your bags onto the floor with a content sigh before flopping onto the couch. "Pizza should be here soon. You wanna pick the movie?"

Dean blinked, barely processing the words. Right. Normal best friend things. Hanging out. Eating pizza. Watching a movie. That’s what you two did. That’s what you’d always done.

Maybe that’s all today was—a momentary lapse. A weird, fleeting thing brought on by lack of sleep, the stress of shopping, and, most probably, the objectifying dream he’d had of you. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that.

Yeah. He could shake this off. No big deal.

Letting out a slow breath, he dropped onto the couch beside you, snagging the remote. "Fine. But if I pick, you’re not allowed to bitch about it."

You hummed, already scrolling through your phone. "I make no promises."

A small smirk tugged at Dean’s lips. This was normal. Easy. Just like always.

And for the first time since this morning, he let himself believe it.

The following Friday, Dean found himself at the Roadhouse with Benny, Cas, and Gabe. It was the kind of place that felt like a second home.

The Roadhouse wasn’t fancy—hell, half the decor was older than they were—but it had its own charm. The regulars, the outdated rodeo-style décor, the worn wooden bar top that had seen more spilled whiskey and thrown punches than anyone cared to count.

The walls were lined with old beer signs, neon lights buzzing softly under the hum of conversation. The jukebox in the corner cycled through rock classics, always a little too loud, but that was part of the place’s charm.

Dean and the guys had been coming here for years—long before they were even old enough to drink. You had, too. Being Ellen’s stepdaughter meant you practically grew up in this place, and while Ellen had a strict no-bullshit policy, she wasn’t blind to the fact that teenagers would be teenagers.

As long as you and the guys stayed under her watchful eye, she let you each have a beer or two when you were younger, making damn sure no one got carried away. And if anyone so much as thought about sneaking more? Well, Ellen had a way of shutting that down real quick. She was tough, sharp as a whip, and had a stare that could make a grown man fold—but she cared, more than she’d ever admit.

Jo helped out too, working the bar some nights in between her law enforcement studies. She’d been slinging beers and rolling her eyes at the group’s antics since she was old enough to work behind the counter, always quick with a sarcastic remark when any of them got out of line.

You and Dean had spent countless nights here, watching as the Roadhouse shaped who you all became.

Benny leaned against the pool table, lining up his shot with an easy, practiced confidence. Dean had seen him do it a hundred times—his friend had a natural ease about him, a steadiness that made him damn good at their job.

They spent most of their days working maintenance for RHP Properties, fixing busted pipes and dealing with tenants who thought every flickering light meant the world was ending. Benny made the long hours bearable.

Cas sat nearby, nursing a whiskey, his sharp blue eyes scanning the table like he was analysing some historical battle strategy. He always had that serious, thoughtful air about him. It made sense—he was a history teacher, working his way toward becoming a professor. His brain just worked differently.

And then there was Gabriel, though he liked to go by Gabe, Cas’ cousin. Though you’d never guess it just by looking at them.

Where Cas was serious, methodical, and downright broody at times, Gabe was his exact opposite—carefree, unpredictable, and always ready with a joke. The contrast between them was almost comical, like night and day, order and chaos.

Currently half-draped over the bar like he owned the place, Gabe was laughing at something Rachel, the new bartender, had said. She was easy on the eyes—exactly the kind of woman Gabe set his sights on. And judging by the way she giggled and blushed under his usual blend of wit and charm, he’d hit his mark.

Gabe had always been that guy—the one who could talk his way into or out of anything, a natural-born trickster with a grin that could disarm just about anyone. No one was entirely sure what he did for a living, some mix of marketing gigs and side hustles that somehow kept him afloat. According to him, it was all about “the art of persuasion.”

Dean just called it bullshit.

The night had settled into an easy rhythm—drinks flowing, pool games stretching long enough to become more about talking shit than actual competition. Gabe, as always, had the floor, spinning some ridiculous story about a one-night stand gone wrong.

“I’m telling you; she had three snakes. Just slithering around the damn apartment like it was normal,” Gabe insisted, gesturing wildly with his beer. “One of ‘em was watching me, man. I swear it knew.”

Benny chuckled, lining up his next shot. “I think the real question is, why the hell did you stay?”

Gabe shrugged. “What can I say? I have a hard time walking away from an adventure.”

Cas, who had been nursing his whiskey with a bemused expression, finally spoke up. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been killed yet.”

“Give it time,” Benny muttered, sinking his shot.

The conversation shifted, everyone throwing in their own weird hookup stories—bad timing, embarrassing moments, things they wished they could forget. Dean had been mostly listening, chuckling at their dumb-assery, when the thought that had been nagging him for days finally slipped out.

“Is it, uh… normal to have a sex dream about a friend?”

Benny didn’t react at first, too focused on sinking his shot, but Gabe, ever the opportunist, caught onto it immediately. “If it’s about Y/N? Yeah, totally.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “What? No—it’s not—”

Gabe grinned, tilting his head like he was enjoying watching Dean squirm. “Not what? Not about her? Or not just a dream?”

Dean scowled, scrambling to recover. “Jesus, Gabe, I didn’t say it was about her. It was hypothetical.”

“Uh-huh.” Gabe leaned against the pool table, twirling the chalk in his fingers. “Sure, man. Hypothetical.”

Dean exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the weird, twisting feeling in his gut. “Just saying, dreams don’t mean anything, right? Just… brain static.”

Benny chuckled, finally looking up from the table. “Depends on the dream, brother.”

Dean glanced between them, suddenly feeling like he was the only one missing something. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gabe smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It means you’ve been making googly eyes at her since we were, what—fifteen?”

Dean’s stomach dropped. “The hell I have.”

Gabe ignored him, tapping his chin. “Honestly, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner.”

Benny sighed, shaking his head as he sank another shot. “Sorry, brother. Gotta agree with the gremlin on this one.”

Cas, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice calm and matter of fact. “It’s always been very obvious.”

Dean stared at them, mouth opening and closing. “You guys are insane.”

Gabe shrugged, completely unfazed. “Denial’s a hell of a drug. You’ll catch up eventually.”

Dean gripped his pool cue a little tighter, his next shot suddenly feeling a lot more difficult than it should have.

Benny, ever the voice of reason, leaned on his cue. “Ain’t anything bad, Dean. You two have known each other since you were what? Nine. Been joint at the hip since. You know all her family, she knows yours. Hell, she’s practically—”

“If that were true, something would’ve happened by now,” Dean cut in, shaking his head.

Gabe snorted, swiping Dean’s beer before he could stop him. “Not if you’re in denial, my friend.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, frustration curling in his chest. Their words were ringing too damn true, and it was freaking him out. “You’re all outta your damn minds.”

Gabe just smirked. “Keep telling yourself that, Winchester.”

The conversation haunted him. All the way back to the apartment.

He’d walked the couple of blocks from the bar to your shared place, his friends’ words swirling around his mind, needling into places he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Dean knew he cared about you—he always had. But wasn’t that normal after knowing someone for so long? You were practically family.

His thoughts drifted back to the first time he met you. Fourth grade. The old, rusted swing set at the park near his house.

He’d been shoving loose gravel around with the toe of his sneaker when he heard a loud laugh—sharp and unbothered. Looking up, he saw a girl launch herself off the swing at its peak, landing in a heap on the ground with a thud.

He winced. That had to hurt.

But instead of crying, you rolled onto your back, a grin splitting your dirt-smudged face as you stared up at the sky. "Holy crap, that was awesome."

Dean frowned, more confused than anything. "You just busted your knee."

You sat up, inspecting the scrape with a shrug. "Eh, I’ve had worse."

Then you looked at him—really looked at him—and grinned. "Think you can jump higher?"

Dean, never one to back down from a challenge, snorted. "Duh."

And that was that. A competition was born.

For the next hour, you and Dean had taken turns swinging as high as possible before flinging yourselves off, measuring who could get the most distance. By the time the sun dipped low, both of you were covered in dirt and scrapes, laughing like idiots.

When his mom finally called him home for dinner, he’d hesitated before brushing off his hands and looking at you. "Same time tomorrow?"

You grinned, teeth flashing. "You’re on, Winchester."

And just like that, Dean had found his best friend.

Now, years later, that same friend was tangled up in his head in a way he couldn’t ignore.

And it scared the hell out of him.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean called out as soon as he stepped into the apartment. The words left him out of habit, that same old teasing lilt in his voice. It was an inside joke that had stuck over time—born the day you’d both moved in together after college, a decision fuelled by practicality more than anything else.

Splitting rent was cheaper, and as best friends, it had made perfect sense. Somehow, though, the whole thing had felt oddly domestic from the start, and Dean had cracked the joke that first night—throwing open the door with a smirk, announcing himself like some sitcom husband. You’d groaned, thrown a pillow at him, and it had just stuck. Something easy, something comfortable.

From somewhere deeper in the apartment, your voice called back, warm and casual. “Hey!” You greeted him as he shrugged off his worn leather jacket and toed off his boots with a sigh, rolling his neck to ease the tension there.

“How were the guys?” You called out again.

"Yeah, they're all good," he answered absentmindedly, trying not to think about that last conversation he’d had with them as he headed straight for the fridge, already contemplating his options.

His hand gripped the cool metal of the handle as he swung it open, his face falling at the sad excuse for groceries staring back at him—half a six-pack, expired milk, some takeout containers he didn’t even remember ordering.

Right. Grocery shopping. Definitely overdue.

"Hey, you feel like ordering in tonight?" He called out over his shoulder. "Pizza? Chinese? Maybe both, live a little?"

But before he could get an answer, movement in the corner of his eye pulled his focus, and his breath caught in his throat.

You stepped out of your room, and just like that, Dean forgot how to breathe.

His hand slipped from the fridge handle as his entire focus tunnelled in on you. You weren’t just dressed up—you were knockout gorgeous.

A sleek, black dress hugged your figure in a way that should’ve been illegal, the fabric clinging in all the right places before tapering off mid-thigh. Your legs—long, smooth, and so much more on display than he was prepared for—were accentuated by the sharp cut of your stilettos, heels so high they had no damn business being on your feet, yet somehow, you walked like you owned the world in them.

Dean swallowed hard.

His gaze flickered to the subtle details—the delicate chain resting just below the hollow of your throat, the way the dim lighting in the apartment caught the shimmer of your earrings, how your makeup was just enough to highlight what was already perfect.

You smelled different too—a new perfume perhaps? Something subtle but undeniably you.

The air in the apartment felt thick, like it was pushing down on his chest.

You didn’t even notice his staring. Instead, you were focused on the couch, leaning over slightly as you grabbed your purse, your fingers quickly checking through its contents. "I can't," you said lightly, barely looking up. "Got a hot date, remember?"

Dean blinked, your words cutting through his haze like a blade.

“Date?"

His stomach twisted.

You straightened up, finally glancing at him with a smirk. "Yeah, with Gary from marketing?" You prompted, slinging your purse over your shoulder. "He asked me out last week—I told you about it?”

Gary from marketing.

Dean’s brows furrowed as the memory came rushing back—how you’d offhandedly mentioned it while he was distracted with something else, how he’d muttered some half-assed response at the time, maybe even made a joke—

"The guy with the tragic haircut?" he muttered, the words coming out before he could stop them.

You laughed. "That’s the one."

And just like that, it hit him.

He’d been so caught up in his own damn thoughts about you lately—trying to reason with himself, trying to make sense of the way things had shifted between you lately—that he hadn’t even thought the world would still be turning for you.

He’d been sitting in the passenger seat, clueless, while you’d been steering your own damn life without him.

And now?

Now, you were standing there, looking like that, all dressed up for some other guy—some idiot named Gary, who got to pick you up and take you out, who got to be the reason you put on that dress, who got to see that smile meant for him tonight.

Dean’s chest felt tight, a slow, bitter realisation creeping in.

This wasn’t like all the other times.

You’d gone on dates before. He knew that. He’d teased you about them, had even tossed out protective big-brother-ish warnings to guys who had no clue the words felt foreign in his mouth. But he’d never felt anything about it before.

Not like this.

Not like his chest was caving in.

Not like a bitter, ugly heat was curling around his ribs, settling deep into his bones.

Not like he wanted to throw his jacket back on and hunt down ‘Gary from marketing’ and make damn sure he knew he wasn’t good enough for you.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Right." His voice was quieter than he meant it to be, rough around the edges as he forced the word past the lump in his throat.

He watched as you did one last check in the mirror by the door, smoothing your hands down your dress, adjusting your lipstick in a way that made his stomach tighten even more. You looked excited.

Dean clenched his jaw.

And just like that, the jealousy settled deep in his bones, hot and unyielding.

He didn’t want to picture it—you laughing at some stupid joke Gary made over dinner, Gary sliding his hand over yours, maybe leaning in close at the end of the night, lips hovering over yours.

But the thoughts came anyway.

And it wrecked him.

You shot him one last glance, oblivious to the storm raging inside of him. "Don’t wait up, Winchester."

And with that, you were gone.

Dean stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door.

His chest felt tight. And then the bitter realisation hit him.

His friends had been right.

Dean couldn’t sleep.

For the past two hours, he had been tossing and turning, alternating between staring at the ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut, willing sleep to come. It never did.

How the hell could he sleep when his mind was torturing him with images of you—with Gary?

His stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of it, bile rising in his throat. His mind painted vivid, unwanted pictures: Gary’s hands on you, his lips on your skin, your soft laughter, the way you might be looking at him right now—the way you should be looking at Dean.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as if it would shake the thoughts loose. It didn’t.

With a frustrated exhale, Dean sat up, rubbing a hand down his face. This was pointless.

There was no way in hell he was going to get any rest like this, not with his heart pounding and his mind running laps. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching his sore muscles before making his way into the living room.

His feet carried him straight to the kitchen, to the cabinet under the sink where he kept a bottle of whiskey for special occasions.

This qualified.

He poured himself a shot and downed it in one go, barely wincing at the burn as it slid down his throat. The second one went down just as easily, a bitter warmth settling in his chest, but it didn’t quiet the storm in his head the way he hoped it would.

His eyes flicked toward the clock on the microwave.

1:37 AM.

You were still out.

Another shot. Another slow burn in his chest.

Dean knew he had no right to be this worked up about it. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wasn’t anything to you except your best friend—your roommate. That was the problem.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard.

When the hell did everything get so complicated?

It wasn’t just the dream. Sure, it cracked something open in him, but if he was honest with himself, there had always been something simmering underneath. He could see it now—in the way his past relationships never worked out, how no one else ever seemed enough because in the back of his mind, he was always comparing them to you. The way he told you things he didn’t tell anyone, not even his own mother.

Seventeen years.

You had been in his life for seventeen years. That was longer than most marriages.

Damn, he really was an idiot. How could he have been so blind to it, so ignorant to what was staring him right in the face the whole time?

Then, he heard it.

The distinct jingle of keys outside the door, followed by a clumsy, muffled “shit" breaking him out of his reverie.

Dean sighed, setting his glass down before pushing off from the counter. He made his way to the door just as he heard another "fuck", then a quiet thud—like something hitting the floor.

Through the peephole, he spotted you crouched down, fumbling for your keys, struggling to fit them into the lock.

You were clearly drunk.

Dean shook his head with a smirk, unlocking the door from his side just as you managed to steady yourself, one hand braced against the door handle. The moment he pulled it open, you stumbled forward, nearly toppling over—until his arms caught you.

You crashed into his chest with a soft “Hmph.”

Dean's arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you up as you melted against him, giggling into his shirt. The scent of alcohol clung to you, a mix of whiskey and whatever fruity drink you had been sipping on all night.

“Jesus." You huffed, pushing off him, though you wobbled as you tried to find your footing. Dean kept his hands out, ready to catch you again if needed.

"You good, sweetheart?" He asked, raising a brow as he took in your dazed smile and glassy eyes.

You grinned up at him, your expression pure blissed-out drunkenness. "I'm just perfect, Dean’o."

Dean smirked at the nickname, but before he could say anything, you reached up and grasped his jaw between your thumb and fingers, squishing his cheeks slightly.

“Okay, alright—enough of that.” He groaned, peeling your hand away. You didn’t seem to realise your own strength at the moment, and if you squeezed any harder, you were gonna leave a dent in his damn face.

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, before your attention drifted over his shoulder. Then your expression dropped into something heartbreakingly close to a pout.

“Awww,” you whined. “You’re drinking without me?”

You sounded genuinely upset, your lower lip pushing out in an exaggerated fashion. Before Dean could respond, you made a clumsy grab for the bottle on the counter.

But Dean was quicker.

Before your fingers could wrap around the neck of the whiskey bottle, his hand closed over yours, pulling it away with ease. “Yeah, no. You’ve had enough,” he said firmly, setting the bottle behind him and out of reach.

You frowned up at him, your brows knitting together like a scolded child. “You’re no fun.”

Dean smirked, amused at how downright grumpy you looked, like a kid being denied dessert. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You need some water, sweetheart. Not more booze.”

You huffed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want water, I want whiskey.”

“Tough,” Dean said, already turning to grab a glass from the cabinet. “You’re getting water.”

Your pout deepened as he filled the glass from the tap, sliding it toward you. You eyed it like it personally offended you before reluctantly picking it up and taking a sip—your way of conceding to his demand, albeit with an exaggerated sigh.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. You were something else.

Once you were distracted with your water, he leaned against the counter again, crossing his arms over his chest. He could still feel the tension coiling in his gut, the jealousy he’d been drowning in all night, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“So,” he started, keeping his tone casual, but his fingers clenched against his biceps. “How was it?”

You blinked up at him, confused. “How was what?”

Dean gave you a look. “Your date.”

At that, you scoffed, setting your glass down with a little more force than necessary. “Oh, that.” You waved a hand dismissively. “It was awful.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, surprised by how quickly you admitted it. He’d expected you to defend the guy, maybe try to convince yourself it had been a good time. But no—just flat-out awful.

“Yeah?” He prompted, keeping his voice even, but he could already feel his chest loosening just a little.

You leaned against the counter, your drunken state making you extra expressive as you talked with your hands. “First of all, the guy is so uptight. Like, I swear, he’s never laughed in his life. I tried joking around, and he just blinked at me like I was speaking another language.”

Dean snorted, already picturing it.

“And then,” you continued, eyes wide with disbelief, “all he did was talk about himself. Nonstop. Like, dude, I asked him one question—one—about his job, and suddenly I was stuck in a TED Talk about marketing strategies. Like I don’t work for the same company.” You threw your arms out in a ‘are you kidding me’ gesture.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like a real winner.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” you said, holding up a finger. “So, we order food, right? And I get a cheeseburger, because, you know, I wanted a damn cheeseburger.”

Dean nodded approvingly. “Good choice.”

“Right?” You gestured wildly, as if proving your point. “But Gary—freaking Gary—looks at me and goes, ‘Are you sure you wanna eat that? You should really watch your figure.’”

Dean froze. His smirk disappeared.

For a moment, he just stared at you, like he couldn’t believe the words had actually come out of your mouth.

Then his expression darkened, jaw tightening. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

You rolled your eyes. “I wish.”

Dean’s grip on his bicep tightened, his teeth grinding together. That prick. He had known from the start that Gary was a tool, but this? This was another level.

“So,” you continued, a mischievous glint in your eye, “I did what any rational, level-headed woman would do in that situation.”

Dean arched a brow. “And that was?”

You grinned, leaning in like you were about to tell him a secret. “I threw my drink in his face and left.”

Dean stared at you for a beat, then—He laughed.

A deep, genuine laugh that rumbled in his chest as pride swelled in him. “No shit?”

“No shit.” You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself. “Right in his smug, stupid, judgy face.”

Dean shook his head, chuckling. That’s my girl, he thought, though he would never say it out loud.

“But instead of coming straight home,” you continued, twirling your glass of water between your fingers, “I didn’t wanna deal with your I told you so—”

Dean smirked. “I would’ve said it.”

You shot him a look. “—so, I went to the Roadhouse instead. Had a few drinks, bitched about my failed date to Jo and Ellen. Ellen cut me off and called me a cab.” Dean huffed. That sounded about right.

For a moment, he just watched you, taking in the way you had perked up again, the lingering frustration in your eyes slowly melting into something softer.

You were here.

Not out with Gary. Not waking up next to some guy who didn’t deserve you. Not letting some self-important idiot tell you who you should be.

You were home. With him.

And as much as he wanted to tell you that he had been losing his damn mind all night, picturing you with someone else—he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, and smirked.

"Well," Dean said, tilting his head with a smirk. "At least you got a good story out of it."

"Yeah, I guess." You hummed, swirling the water in your glass. The initial amusement faded as your shoulders dropped slightly. Dean caught the shift immediately, his brows pulling together.

"C’mon, you can’t really be cut up about a guy with an Edward Scissor-hands haircut and zero game." He teased, hoping to pull you out of whatever downward spiral you were heading into.

It worked—your laughter bubbled out, a full, belly-deep laugh that made the tension in his chest ease. But then you sighed, the sound quieter this time, more pensive. "It’s not him I’m cut up about."

Dean watched you carefully as you traced the rim of your glass with your finger. "I just feel like I can never meet a good guy."

Something inside him twisted.

What about me?

The thought came unbidden, sharp and intrusive, and he shoved it down before it could take root. Instead, he nudged you with his elbow.

"That’s not true." His voice was lighter now, teasing again. "What about Mikey? The guy with the lisp?"

His grin widened as he mimicked a lisp, knowing damn well you’d dated the guy for barely two months in your sophomore year before his clinginess drove you up the wall. The look of horror that crossed your face had him biting back a laugh.

"Oh my God, Dean!" You gawked at him before landing a solid punch to his arm. "That is so mean!"

"Ow," he complained through his laughter, rubbing the spot you hit. "I’m serious, though! He was a real sweetheart.” He exaggerated the lisp again, barely dodging your next swing.

"I swear to God—" You huffed, turning to stomp off, but before you could escape, he caught your arm gently.

"Okay, okay, I’m done. Scouts honour." He held up three fingers in a mock solemn gesture.

You gave him a look—like you absolutely did not believe him—but still, with a huff, you reclaimed your spot opposite him and took another sip of water.

Then, almost absentmindedly, you sighed. "I mean, it has been a long time."

Dean’s brow furrowed. "A long time since what?"

You hesitated for a brief second before shrugging your shoulders, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. "Since I’ve had sex."

Dean choked on his own damn saliva.

You frowned in concern, but he quickly waved you off, reaching for his whiskey to cover up the way his throat had suddenly gone dry.

You leaned back against the counter, lost in thought, completely oblivious to the war you’d just started in his head.

"I just—I don’t even need romance, you know?" You shrugged. "At this point, I’d settle for a little fun. I even bought new lingerie for tonight, just in case, and now"— you gestured vaguely to yourself, "totally wasted."

Dean swallowed—hard.

His mind was already in dangerous territory, but now it plummeted straight into the gutter.

You’d bought lingerie? For tonight?

His gaze instinctively flicked down for half a second before he caught himself, before he could let himself really think about what you were implying. Because if you had planned for tonight—if you were wearing it right now—

God help him.

The image hit him like a freight train. You, laid out in something lacey and delicate, something sheer enough to tease but not reveal, maybe even those crotchless panties you’d pointed out the other day in that damn store—his stomach twisted, his fingers curling around his glass with a little too much force.

And the worst part? Some other guy was supposed to see you like that tonight.

That thought sent something hot and possessive burning through his veins.

Dean exhaled sharply, gripping the back of his neck as he forced his gaze anywhere but at you.

"Gary didn’t deserve to see you like that." The words left his mouth before he could stop them, his voice lower than before.

You scoffed. "Yeah, well, no one else is seeing it either, so it really doesn’t matter."

It matters to me.

Dean forced himself to take another sip of whiskey, as if that would drown out the thoughts swimming in his head.

With a stretch and a yawn, you set your empty glass down and pushed off the counter. "Alright, I’m gonna head to bed. Thanks for making me drink water, Mom." You teased, because Dean was always more like a mother hen than a strict father.

Dean smirked, watching as you stepped closer. He expected you to give him a casual pat on the arm or maybe ruffle his hair like you sometimes did when you were feeling particularly annoying.

Instead, you leaned up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Or, at least, that’s where it was meant to land.

At the last second, whether it was the whiskey in your system or just bad aim, your lips caught the corner of his mouth.

You gasped softly, your breath fanning over his lips, and then you giggled. "Shit—sorry."

Dean didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Because you were still right there, inches away, your body just barely brushing his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

Something in the air shifted.

The easy playfulness between you dissolved into something else—something warm and electric, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Your smile faded, lips parting slightly as you lingered, hesitating just a second longer than necessary.

Then, before he could say a damn thing, before he could even think—

You leaned in again.

And this time, you kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant, your lips pressing against his in a way that felt like a question. Like you were giving him the chance to pull away, to stop this before it could turn into something neither of you could take back.

Dean’s entire body locked up. His mind screamed at him to push you away, to remind you that you’d been drinking, that this was just a moment of drunken impulse, that tomorrow you might regret this.

But then you pressed in closer, deepening the kiss, your fingers skimming up his arm, and his resolve shattered.

A low, quiet sound rumbled in his throat as he gave in. Completely.

His hands found your waist, gripping tight, pulling you against him as he kissed you back. And not just kissed you—devoured you. All the tension from the past few days, all the frustration, the longing, the confusion—it poured out of him like a damn breaking.

Your lips were warm, soft, intoxicating in a way no drink could ever compare to. He let himself get lost in it, let himself feel it—how perfect you felt against him, how natural this was, like it had been inevitable all along.

You sighed against his mouth, your fingers sliding up into his hair, and Dean groaned, tilting his head to deepen the kiss even further.

He didn’t know when his hands had moved, but now one was tangled in your hair, the other splayed against the small of your back, pressing you flush against him. And fuck, you felt good. Too good.

This was dangerous.

And when you finally pulled away, lips kiss-swollen and breaths unsteady, Dean couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. His heart pounded like a war drum; each beat a sharp, insistent reminder of the storm raging inside him.

He should say something. Do something. But every word he might’ve spoken tangled in his throat, choked by the weight of what had just happened.

“Woah,” you whispered, your voice barely more than breath. Your eyes flickered between his and his mouth, never quite settling, like you were just as caught in the moment as he was. Your cheeks were flushed, heat radiating from your skin, and the ghost of your breath still lingered against his lips, dizzying and sweet.

Dean didn’t move. Didn’t dare move. The air between you crackled, fragile and electric, holding him captive in a moment he wasn’t ready to break.

He was waiting for you. Like always.

Your breath ghosted against his lips, and that was all it took.

You kissed him again, this time with more heat, more purpose, fingers tangling into the front of his shirt as you pulled him in. Dean let out a rough sound—somewhere between a groan and a sigh—before his hands found your waist, gripping tight as he backed you up against the counter. The edge dug into your lower back, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the way he was pressing into you, solid and warm and overwhelming in the best way.

His hands slid down, grasping the backs of your thighs, and before you could fully process it, he lifted you effortlessly onto the countertop.

A surprised gasp left your lips, but Dean was already there, swallowing the sound as he kissed you again, deeper, slower, his fingers digging into your hips. You pulled him in, locking your legs around his waist, desperate to feel more of him, and his hands wandered—exploring the soft, bare skin of your thighs, gliding higher, pushing the hem of your dress up as he went.

He trailed kisses down your jaw, moving to your neck, and when his lips found that one spot—the spot—you let out a soft moan, your head tipping back instinctively.

Only to smack it straight into the cabinet behind you.

The entire moment shattered.

You winced, immediately bringing a hand to the back of your head. Dean jerked back, eyes wide with concern.

“Shit—are you okay?” He cupped your jaw, scanning your face for any sign of real pain.

For a second, you just blinked at him—then, out of nowhere, you started giggling.

Dean frowned, still searching your eyes, but when you kept laughing, it broke him. He snorted, shaking his head, then let out a deep, full-bodied chuckle, forehead dropping against your shoulder.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He pulled back, still grinning, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s gotta be a sign, right?”

You sighed dramatically. “That the universe hates me?”

Dean smirked, his hands settling on your hips. “That you’re not sober enough for this.” His answer was loaded, a heavy realisation for himself that you were in no state of mind to be making any rational decisions right now, and that he should've known better than to take advantage of that.

You pouted slightly, but you both knew he was right. Still, there was something soft in his expression as he helped you down, steadying you with warm hands on your waist. The moment your feet hit the ground, you swayed a little, still a bit disoriented.

Dean caught you instantly. “Okay, yeah. You need to lie down, sweetheart.”

You groaned but didn’t fight him as he led you to your room, making sure you didn’t trip over your own feet. Once you were settled, he disappeared briefly before returning with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, setting them on your nightstand.

“You’re a saint,” you mumbled, already sinking into the mattress.

Dean huffed a laugh. “Not quite. Just don’t want you becoming a pain in my ass in the morning when your head’s pounding.” He said as he helped pull off your shoes and settled you under the covers.

You cracked one eye open, looking at him with something unreadable, something soft. “Could never hate you, Dean.” You mumbled half asleep.

He looked at you, lingering for a second too long. Then stood, with a small exhale.

“Call me if you need anything.” He told you as he walked to the door. You hummed your acknowledgment, and with that, he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Dean barely made it to his own room before he collapsed onto the bed, dragging both hands down his face.

What the fuck just happened?

The feel of you, the taste of your lips—it was burned into him now, like some kind of cruel brand.

It was just a kiss. Just a few incredible, amazing kisses. But now he knew for sure, no one would ever compare now.

And that thought terrified him.

Because tomorrow, you might not even remember. And if you did, would you be embarrassed? Regret it? Or worse, hate him?

Dean stared up at the ceiling, jaw tight, mind racing.

Yeah. He was so fucked.

AN: There we have it folks, the first chapter! It was a long one 😅 I know, but I'd love to hear your thoughts/feedback etc ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom

Next Time...

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay still. No sudden movements, no giving anything away. But then your gaze betrayed you—just for a second, barely a flicker—dipping down to his mouth. Shit. Because now you could feel it again. The way he kissed you, rough but deliberate, like he had wanted it. The taste of whiskey, the heat of his hands, the way his fingers had curled into your hips like he was holding on for dear life. Dean cleared his throat. Stepped back. "I’m gonna head to the store," he said, too casual. It took a second for the words to register. "Oh. Yeah, okay." He hesitated—like he might ask you to come with him—but then he smirked instead, lips twitching. "Would’ve invited you, but, uh… You kinda look like the walking dead. Don’t want you cramping my style.” Your head shot up, glare locked and loaded. "Ass." Dean just grinned. "Try not to die while I’m gone." Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that followed was deafening. Your fingers tightened around the coffee mug as you exhaled, long and slow, staring at the door like it might offer some kind of answer. Yeah. You were so screwed.

142 notes · View notes

gilverrwrites · 10 months ago

Note

first time requester here uhhh could you pretty please with cherries on top do tfw (and maybe gabe or Lucifer? up to you though!) reacting to reader being like, REALLY quiet in bed? Like they’re not holding back or anything, they just genuinely don’t make much noise?

Rating: 18+

Please remember: As long as you're trying, you're doing better than you think.

Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info

Dean: Unless you specify that making noise is a boundary for you, he will see it as a challenge. He’ll find things, moves you like and hammer them over, and, over again to try and get some noise out of you. Or he’ll ask you lots of dirty questions during the deed. High praise, when you do make noise, like he’s trying to condition more noise. He just needs some kind of queue that he’s doing a good job, encouragement, like a dog being told he’s a good boy.

If you state it’s a limit, he’ll respect that, but he needs some other indicator, like red-light/green-light, or some form of physical touch meant to convey a job well done.

Sam: Won’t really bat an eyelid at it. He’s a very accepting person, and he likes you for you, noisy or not.

If you express to him that you’d like to be noisier in bed, he will happily assist. Asking how you’re doing; how does that feel? What about this? No, no, not until you show me how much you want it. Repeating things he’s learned will get a reaction out of you.

Otherwise, he’ll keep on ploughing as is.

Castiel: If you’re normally a very vocal/noisy person in day-to-day life, he’d be concerned. He’ll worry that he’s done something wrong. When he confronts you and you tell him you’re good, you’re just quiet, he’ll feel so much relief, you’ll see the weight lift from his shoulders. Bless him, he gets stressed.

If you’re not normally a very vocal/noisy person, then he likely won’t notice. There are many, many humans, and they are all strange and unique, and this is just part of who you are.

He is quite chatty in bed however, he likes to express how he is feeling, how you make him feel, and he likes to check on you, so unless you’re happy to have little check ins/chit chats mid sex, you’ll need to express your boundaries.

Gabriel: Very similar to Dean. Evoking noise from you is a game, and he’s determined to master it. Even if that means underhanded tactics. Laughter is just as good, there will be tickling. He will playfully withhold or deny you touches or kisses to make you beg ask for them. Oh, that one little touch made you moan a teeny tiny bit? WE’RE DOING THAT AGAIN!

If you state that it’s a boundary, that’s cool, cool, cool. He can make enough noise for the both of you, he’s a soft, chatty, moaning, mess of an angel in the throws anyway.

Lucifer: Honestly, he probably won’t even notice at first. Like Gabe, he will make enough noise for the both of you. He loves the sound of his own voice, and he often gets lost in the feelings and his own emotions throughout. When he does eventually notice, he’d tease you about it. The ideal reaction is for you to get all shy and frustrated about it, but any provoked response is likely satisfying, he just likes to know he’s having an effect on you.

Michael: Is also very quiet in bed, in fact, he prefers it. His mind is very busy (especially when Adam is in there) and he enjoys being able to turn it off. He just does what feels good. There is no need to perform, and the fact that you respond the same is very validating for him. He will not question, tease, or try to provoke an inauthentic response from you. He will accept you as you are.

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #castiel x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #spn gabriel x reader #spn lucifer x reader #spn michael x reader #gilverrwrites

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bohemianblasphemy · 2 months ago

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Back to you

Archangel Gabriel x fem Winchester!reader

Contains: angsty, character ‘death’, fluff and the tichiest bit of suggestiveness at the end <3, very loosely based on season 5, episode 19

(A/N: I love my man Gabriel, there needs to be more fics about him <3 )

“He’s gone Y/N.”

The words rang in your ear, lingering in your brain.

“No he’s not, no- h-he told me he’d always be here, always with me…” you tried to dismiss Dean’s statement, scoffing at him.

The brothers looking at you with pitiful eyes. They knew of the deep bond between Gabriel and yourself- something that had been shared by the two of you since day one. Gabriel wouldn’t have known that he would grown so attached to someone, let alone someone who was human.

Conversations that extended into the early hours of the morning, yearning glances as you both spoke about anything and everything- touches that left trails of fire on each other’s skin…

Nothing could have torn you apart, but after Sam and Deans latest hunt that found them trapped in a hotel with a group of Gods that wanted to use them to stop the apocalypse, Gabriel found himself in the middle of it all to stop them from doing so - only for Lucifer to drive an archangel blade into his chest.

“He’ll be here, just wait- you’ll see.” You couldn’t be more in denial, not wanting to believe them despite the evidential tears that formed in your eyes.

Sam’s heart tightened at the sight of you trying to process the information- seeing how frozen in place you had become.

“Y/n…” he placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up at him with devastation written all over your face as you took a shaky breath.

You could see the sincerity in his face, his eyebrows furrowing that same way he always did when something bad happened. Dean kept up a strong front, but his eyes gave away the sorrow in his eyes- seeing how you tried to approach the inevitable grief.

“H-he’s really gone?” You choked, looking up at your brother, who bobbed his head in confirmation, soon pulling you in for a bone crushing hug- the action giving rise to your emotions as you began to weep in his arms.

Dean tried to sooth you with rubbing your back, his tough demeanour faltering as he felt your pain pour out of you- desperate to take that ache from your heart away.

The days turned into months, nearly a year- the grief of your loss had lifted slightly but it was still lingering over you like a storm cloud, making some of your days hard than others.

Gabriel haunted you, the mere spectre of him that appeared in your sleeping state- seeing and feeling him, making it seem like what has happened was all a sick joke until you woke up in the real world; your room in the bunker cold and unfamiliar without him there beside you.

Another quiet night fell over the bunker, Sam, Dean and yourself had been researching in the library- trying to find information on a mysterious death that had occurred not too far from the bunker.

“Okay get this, the way that the death occurred is weird, he just- combusted. No one just explodes for no reason.” Sam explained.

“Right, so is there anything that you’ve read that explains any ghouls or whatever that would do something like that?” Dean replied to him, looking at his laptop as he made it look like he was doing research but in reality was scrolling for car parts for Baby.

“Not yet… but I’m thinking that it could be a spell.” Sam sighed, returning to his lore book.

You didn’t say anything, looking at your laptop trying hard to focus on the words before you but your mind was elsewhere.

Sam noticed, giving you a solemn smile. “Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly, noticing your distant gaze onto the screen.

You nodded, your eyes flicking to him and giving him a tight lipped smile. “Yeah, fine I’m just tired…” it was your go to excuse, not that it wasn’t exactly untrue.

Sam patted your forearm and nodded, reciprocating a similar reaction to yours. “Maybe we should take a break hmm? It is close to dinner time and we should have something to eat-“

Sam cut himself off from the sudden sound of fluttering wings, looking over your shoulder toward the sound in the archway, lights flickering around the three of them.

His heart pounded as he observed a physical manifestation appear, walking out from amongst the shadows. The words that came out of his mouth shook you to your core.

“Gabriel?”

Your blood went cold as his name fell out of his mouth, your heart thumping in your chest - not daring to turn around and see for yourself.

Deans eyes widened at the sight. “We thought you were dead-“

“Nope, still here… trickster remember?”

Gabriel spoke finally, the tone in his voice was light and clear- as if he had never had gone. His words echoed through your head, solidifying the fact that he was here.

Taking a deep breath you slowly turned in your seat, seeing the angel you loved before you. The sight of him was overwhelming, locking eyes with him across the room.

“Sweetie…” he whispered, the twinkle in his eye that he got when you were in his vision.

All you could do was stare- he was right there, and there was nothing more that you wanted to do than run to him and be in his arms, but you couldn’t.

Where has he been this entire time?

Why didn’t you hear from him?

It made you even more upset.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, silently nodding to each other to leave the two of you alone and walking out of the library.

Gabriel slowly stepped toward you, looking at you as if no time had passed since that fateful day.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry-“ you put a hand up to stop him from talking as you stood up from your seat.

“N-no, you were dead. They told me you were dead- lucifer KILLED you!” You exclaimed, your eyes welling up again as you thought about these past months, all this time- he had been alive.

“Nothing- not one sign from you, nothing to tell me that you were still alive-“ you choked out, turning away to wipe the incoming tears.

He watched as you turned from him, his heart aching to reach for you.

“I know, I know- I couldn’t, it would’ve been risky to do so. Putting me in danger- putting you in danger. I couldn’t live with that.” Gabriel stepped behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and spun you around to face him.

He placed his hands on your cheeks gently, a longing, yearning look in his eyes as he finally grazed the warmth of your skin with his calloused hands.

You let out a quiet sob as he touched you, feeling his touch that you had longed for all this time but still avoided his eyes.

“Every day, I thought of you. Not a minute went by that I didn’t hunger to be with you… not one.” He whispered, wiping your stray teardrops.

You looked up at him finally, unconsciously leaning into his touch as he rubbed his thumbs against your cheeks. You breathed in deeply, exhaling a jagged breath.

“I-I never thought I’d see you again…” you uttered, bringing your own hands to his face and feeling him. Gabriel sighed softly, that same, dilated expression that he always adorned when he looked at you.

“I missed you…”

Gabriel closed his eyes, nodding softly.

“I missed you, so so much.” He whispered before opening his eyes again.

“I’m here now, and I will make it up to you if it’s the last thing I ever do. As long as it’s you, I don’t care… all I want is to make it right, please.” He practically begged, his face only inches away from yours.

You took a moment to think, still processing everything that has just happened to you in the span of… God knows how long.

It didn’t matter.

All that did however was you and him, together again.

“Please…” you muttered, desperation seeping into your singular word that needed his presence, his touch- his everything in that moment.

No hesitation was necessary on Gabriel’s part as he pressed a long awaited kiss to your lips, moving against you needingly- savouring the familiar taste of you that he dreamt about.

The kiss became more hungry, the desire becoming more and more evident between you both as you pulled away, pressing kisses down his neck as he let out a breathy sigh.

You looked at him with lustful eyes and parted, pouted lips.

“C’mon… we have some catching up to do.” You whispered, taking his hand and leading him down the hall of the bunker.

Gabriel just twitches his brow, smirking at your forwardness as he followed close behind you.

“Lead the way sweetness…”

#gabriel spn #Gabriel spn x reader #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #Gabriel spn imagine #Gabriel fluff #archangel gabriel #supernatural preferences #gabriel supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural smut #archangel Gabriel x reader #archangel Gabriel imagine

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couldyouimagine-that · 8 months ago

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Take a Moment

Genre; hurt/comfort, fluff

Word count; 1.8k

Warnings; description of reader feeling overwhelmed, reader having a little doubt as to why Gabriel is helping them so much.

Pairing; Gabriel (Supernatural) x Reader

Gabriel who is absolutely smitten with the reader sees they are feeling overwhelmed whilst researching a case and offers to take them somewhere quiet – comfort and cuddling ensues.

I’m back! I really enjoyed writing this one (I'm rewatching Supernatural at the moment and my love of Gabriel has been rekindled) and I’m considering doing something similar with Lucifer – let me know if that’s something you would want to read. Enjoy!

Masterlist

You didn’t even have to say anything for Gabriel to know something was wrong. Castiel was never likely to notice, but the archangel had to forgive him that. His brother wasn’t the most perceptive when it came to emotion. The Winchesters were very perceptive, but they were only human and you were covering your discomfort well. Your breathing was regular and steady, there were no signs of a tapping foot or a repetitive hand movement, or anything that would signal how you felt.

But Gabriel could actually feel how you felt, one of the perks of his true form being an enormous series of celestial wavelengths. It was incomprehensible to you, he was sure, but you understood enough about angels to get the gist. He watched as you sat at the end of the table in the bunker’s library, having put yourself there so that no one would sit down next to you. You had your legs crossed tight at the knee, your arms crossed where you leaned forward on the table. Your posture looked closed off, but there was a mug of coffee by your side and you had been reading lore for hours. The others would assume you had slept poorly or were bored senseless. What that posture really meant was that you were protecting yourself, consciously or not.

Nothing had happened to trigger it, but it was clear to Gabriel that you felt incredibly overwhelmed. He stayed were he had set himself up by one of the bookshelves, one hip cocked against it. He had seen you leave situations like this in the past, when things finally did get too much and you needed some space to yourself. Equally, he had seen you try to tough it out and pretend everything was fine more times than he wanted to count. He truly wishes you knew you didn’t have to, regardless of if that meant you wanted his help or not.

Sam and Dean were sitting far enough down the table that it didn’t seem to be affecting your clear need – or clear to Gabriel, at least – for personal space. Castiel was browsing books along the shelves on the other side of the room, so whilst Gabriel wanted desperately to intervene and help you, he was glad for a moment to think that he wouldn’t need to.

That was until the idiot brothers decided to open their mouths.

“Hey Y/N, did you find anything on that weapon?”

Gabriel would have liked to snap Dean’s mouth shut. You told him that you hadn’t with a small smile, short but not unkind. Gabriel could see the effort it took for you to regain your focus on your reading. Just a few minutes later and Sam was the one to interrupt you, asking for the title of a book you had mentioned to him the previous day. This time it was harder for you to concentrate on your task again. It was when Dean disrupted your work for a third time, asking if you wanted more coffee as he stood and made his way to the kitchen, that you couldn’t take it a second longer.

Your refusal was decisive and your chair legs scraped against the floor as you pushed back from the table. You left the room quickly with a muttered excuse about going to look for a different book. Gabriel took his chance and flew ahead of you, leaving the library without anyone noticing. He was leaning against the wall outside your room when you arrived in a flurry from the speed at which you had been walking. You jumped in surprise when you rounded the corner to see him standing there and promptly tried to push straight past him in an effort to get a moment by yourself.

“Sorry Gabriel, I just need a minute.” Your words were quiet and your breathing had turned heavy. He knew that he would be making things worse for you in the moment, but he also knew he could help in the long run.

“Hey, sugar…” he murmured, voice even softer than it normally was when he spoke to you. “You wanna go somewhere quiet?”

You paused, hand on the door to your little closed in space in the bunker. No windows, not much by way of fresh air, and a whole group of people in the library just waiting to interrupt your alone time. You trusted Gabriel, knew he would never do anything to hurt you. And you desperately needed a break from it all.

He could have jumped for joy when you nodded, but he kept his reaction contained. He offered you a hand, palm up, which you took hold of immediately. The bunker was gone in the time it took you to blink. Instead, you stood in the main room of a sunny villa-like house, all open plan and large windows. Orange sunlight streamed in from a setting sun and to your right, double glass doors led out onto a sprawling patio. Bright blue pool water glimmered from its centre.

Gabriel let your hand slip from his as you took a few steps into the room, looking around with a beautiful if not tired smile.

“Is this yours?” You asked, a hint of wonder in your words that made Gabriel’s chest swell.

“Just a bit of real estate I have over in Cali.” He gave you his classic playful smirk as you looked back at him, amused by his dismissal of such a nice place. “Make yourself at home, sugar. You want a drink?” You seemed to consider something for a moment, rolling the sentence around in your mouth.

“Actually, I – this is probably silly, but can we just sit down for a minute?”

We.

You wanted to sit down with him until you felt better. That was how much you trusted him, how safe you felt with him. Outwardly, he just gave you a smile and sauntered over to one of the couches arranged artfully around the room.

“Course we can! And don’t ever worry about sounding silly with me.”

He held an intense moment of eye contact with you to make sure his message sank in. You took a seat on the other side of the couch and Gabriel couldn’t resist stretching an arm out along the back of it, behind your head. Not touching, but the invitation was there. You smiled to yourself at his less than subtle antics. He grinned like a cheshire cat when you shifted further towards him and rested your head on his shoulder. He slid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close, resting his cheek atop your head. You in turn curled into him fully and wound an arm around his neck.

Gabriel didn’t bother to fight the warm feeling in his chest. He felt no need to deny to himself how fond he was of you, instead just enjoying the moment. He felt you relaxing against him physically, but he also felt your mind becoming calmer. His breath shifted your hair as he took in the scent of your shampoo. He had years of experience passing time in the company of humans, but this little display of trust you were putting on meant more to him than a lot of that put together.

His other hand alighted on your hip as you moved closer still, mindlessly seeking comfort. You tucked your legs up onto the couch and the movement allowed you to put more of your weight against the archangel. He wrapped an arm around your waist and you reached your own up over his shoulders. He smiled at you ever so warmly as you tucked your face into his neck, watching your eyes close as you let out a contented sigh. He began to card his fingers through your hair, lightly scraping his nails over the back of your head, and all but basked in the way your head tilted further forwards onto his shoulder.

“You know you can talk to me when you feel like that, right? Or any time. I’m always here if you need me to be.” You tightened your hold on him for a brief moment. “And you can come here whenever you want, just give me the word.”

You leaned back a little at that, catching his eye.

“Gabriel, thank you. Really, thank you, but… why are you doing all this for me?” He rolled his eyes playfully without missing a beat.

“Oh no, the big bad archangel Gabriel looks like he might actually give a crap about some human.” He waved his hands around for dramatic affect before placing them back on you. He then tilted his head forward, narrowing his eyes and raising a brow. “Seriously?” The half shrug you offered had him muttering heatedly to himself in Enochian. “Seriously? Is it really that shocking that I give a damn about you? Why is this coming as such a surprise?” You were planning on not answering that verbally but he refused to let you look away. “Come on, sugar. You must know I care about you by now.” Gabriel’s hand started on a steady path up and down your back, waiting for your answer. You stumbled around your words for a lot longer than you would have liked, still unhappy with what you settled for in the end.

“I – didn’t really realise.”

“You think I bring anyone else here when I can see they need some space to breathe?” He wasn’t mocking, or even upset, he was just being direct.

“I’m surprised you brought me here,” you muttered, very quiet. He didn’t deign to answer that in words, but the look he gave you said come on. You gave a soft sigh of your own. “Gabriel, look. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realise you cared about me so much, I really didn’t.” He went to hit back, likely with something disparaging, so you tapped his nose to get his attention. The self-righteous expression of how dare you had a grin pulling at your lips. “You can complain about me not realising later, alright? You were a much more calming influence when you weren’t saying anything.” He repeated that back to you, absolutely exasperated by your nerve, but you tucked your face back into his shoulder instead of replying. You felt him shake his head, even as his arms wound back around you.

You knew you wouldn’t have much time left before you needed to return to the bunker, but for the time being, you simply enjoyed your moment of peace.

#gabriel x reader #supernatural gabriel x reader #supernatural gabriel #supernatural x reader #archangel gabriel x reader #supernatural reader insert #spn gabriel x reader #spn gabriel #supernatural

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supernatural-bias · 8 months ago

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𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 [+ 𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥] 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: dean, sam, castiel, and gabriel

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: dance macabre—ghost

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧

• When Dean first meets you in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on a hunt, he's not surprised that you know his name

• Afterall, he has brought on the apocalypse more than once, and the hunter community isn't exactly known for its ability for people to keep their mouths shut

• What does surprise him, though, is your knowledge on him as a person

• It's nothing creepy— the thought of someone knowing all about him in that way brings him back to where he first met Becky through Chuck, and the thought makes him shudder —but just enough to where it's obvious you've done some digging and people reading of your own

• "Brought back some pie with dinner; didn't know what you wanted so I got apple."

• "Careful handling this case, it's got some nasty demons. We don't want you diving head first into hell. Again."

• "No no, don't use that. It didn't work on that shape-shifter you ganked last year in Massachusetts, so it won't work on this one. Throw it out." You eventually say one night while looking in Baby's trunk for some ammo, and Dean finally turns to face you

• "How did you know that? How do you know any of these things?" He clears his throat, squinting. You shrug with a barely there smile

• "Who do you think cleans up your messes when you're done, Dean? And what can I say. Word gets around."

• It's a simple case of Dean's reputation preceding him. Although, as you discover, there's a lot more to the Winchester than just his precious car, a strange love for greasy food, and his ability to fight off a demon with his bare hands

• "You sure you aren't obsessed with me? Because its totally fine if you're obsessed. I mean, look at me." Dean asks you at one point while gesturing down at himself. He's leaning on his car door in what he probably thought was a sexy manner, watching as you lugged some equipment out to the vehicle. You manage to press your lips together just in time to hide your amused grin

• "Keep dreaming, man." You shake your head. "There's a difference between reading up on people, and stalking them."

• "So you admit it?" He grins misheviously, pushing himself off Baby. "That you've spent your spare time thinking about me?"

• "Sure. And those witnesses never mentioned you'd be this insufferable." You scoff light heartedly, even though thats exactly what some of them said, and leave it at that. But for the rest of the hunt Dean can't stop elbowing you in the ribs to make a playful remark; something that, strangely, you don't find yourself minding

𝐒𝐚𝐦

• Unlike his brother, Sam takes the information that you practically already knew him with a bit of embarrassment

• Sure, he had been (or was supposed to be) Lucifer's vessel, and sure he also had a habit of being at the center of everything world ending, but he never really conciders him anyone other than a hunter that just happens to get the worst cases

• So when you just offhandedly started dropping these facts about him, he's a little off put

• "How'd you know that?"

• "You're literally one of the most infamous hunters to ever exist, Sam. You tangle with angels. Most of us only ever get to meet a werewolf or two before a friend is organizing our funeral the week after."

• "Oh. Right"

• Gets a little curious after a while as to what you exactly know. It's not like he keeps a journal about his feelings that the public can read, and that this point he's just praying you haven't discovered Chuck's Supernatural series, so he'd probably ask you all of what you know and why you know it

• "So you're telling me you've done research on our hunting styles—" Sam asks you while leaning forward. You nod, so he continues. "—and all the people we've ever pissed off?"

• "Call it too much free time, which I certainly don't have enough of these days, but I knew if I ever ran into you two knuckle heads, and I knew it would happen eventually whether I wanted it to or not, then I would need to be prepared." You dragged a hand down your face and exhaled for a moment. "That meant making a checklist of every vamp, demon, or god you've ever had out for your head. And trust me, it's a lot."

• He's silent for a moment after you finish, but it doesn't take long for him to pipe up again

• "Can I see it?"

• Safe to say, after seeing the list, Sam started to rethink some of his past decisions

• "Seriously, how are we not dead yet??"

• "Buddy, I have no idea."

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥

• He does not understand why you seem to know so much about him. Not only as a person, but as an angel

• Castiel is used to the Winchester's asking questions. The first year of knowing them was filled with 'How Did You Do That''s and 'Can You Do This''s. He'd answer all of them, even if he found their questions to be on a kindergarten level most of the time, until eventually they had no more to ask

• You hadn't been like that. Castiel doesn't think he could ever recall you asking him things unless they were about hunts or special circumstances, like the time Sam lost his soul. Hell, you seemed to know more about him than some angels knew about themselves

• Grace knowledge, wing anatomy, biblical lore—you name it and Castiel's probably heard it come out of your mouth at some point

• He gets around to asking you about it one day, albeit very bluntly

• "You don't ask questions." Castiels voice sounds from behind you. You don't even bother to turn around; you heard his wings flutter the moment before he dropped in

• "What do you mean Cas?" You sucked some air between your teeth as you scribbled away at the papers before you. It was something Sam had asked you to follow up on, and you'd been at it for a hot minute now. Hopefully you could make this conversation quick so you could get back to it

• "About angels." A beat of silence. "About me."

• This time you do turn around in your seat to look at him. He's already studying you with that silent squint, and you resist the urge to mirror it

• "Why would I ask questions I already know the answers to?" You parry. The case papers lay on the table, forgotten by now. Your response gets you a rare, but endearing, Cas head tilt

• Upon further questioning, he finds out you'd spent a lot of your early hunting years doing nothing but reading up on anything remotely supernatural. Even calling them 'hunting years' was a stretch. You were more like a crazed researcher that never left the library than a hunter, even resorting to keep mountains upon mountains of notes on ancient lore stored away in the margins of dusty books

• "That's certainly explains why you weren't surprised when we met for the first time and I healed you." Cas's low voice drawled slowly after you gave him a moment to interject. "Or how you knew the symbol for sending us back to heaven before Dean or Sam ever did."

• "Like I said." You smiled to yourself, and Castiel got the feeling he was missing a part of the joke. "Lots of reading."

𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

• Do not bring up that you used to have an angel phase back in college. Under no circumstances should you reveal that. He will never let you live it down

• Especially if he finds out you used to study artwork and literature about him specifically

• It's all over the moment he finds your old school books. They're stuffed full of old crinkled pages with his name thrown in there. Of course, this was way back when the idea of angels being real was laughable to you and you still had dreams of graduating college, but that doesn't change to fact that the notes are there, and that Gabriel found them

• "Wait wait wait listen to this—" An old binder is clutched in the hands of a very amused and very heavenly being as he paces around your spot at a table. His eyes are skimming the pages as a speed quicker than light, and Gabriel's shit eating smile grows as he continues to read

• "The archangel Gabriel isn't depicted as much as his brothers Micheal or Lucifer in classic literature, but when he is, it is often as a symbol of great power and beauty—"

• "I'm going to kill you." You cut him off and groan with hot cheeks. Your hands had come up to cover your face a while ago in an attempt to keep what little dignity you had, but something told you it wasn't working

• "Glad to know you think I'm beautiful, sweet cheeks." Was all Gabriel said. You could hear the teasing lit in his voice. Sure enough, when you looked up to glare at him, he was already looking at you and wiggling his brows suggestively. It took you a total to three seconds to throw the closest thing at his head

• "Hey hey! Watch the beautiful goods!" He laughed while dodging a pencil. It his his chest anyway and bounced to the ground with a dull thud

• "Gabriel." Your tone was downright murderous

• "Okay, okay! I'll stop!"

• He does, in fact, not stop. Someone restrain him for the love of Chuck, for he is getting way too much enjoyment out of poking fun at you

• You're gonna have to avoid him for the next few weeks after that if you want to keep your embarassment levels to a minimum. No other way around it

• Let's just hope he never realizes you had to spend time in art class analyzing renaissance paintings of him in the nude. Now that would be the conversation to end all conversations

• "Heyyy, you never told me you had an art folder—"

• Oh shit.

541 notes · View notes