#gabriel spn x you

[supernatural-bias]

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.

[mysterymachine67]

thanks man 🙏 my head empty only gabriel moment is thinking abt fucking him until his smart mouth can only make out messy bits of enochian cus hes an angel 😞 hes such a brat i luv him

Pairing: Gabriel/Trickster x M!reader

NSFW. Minors DNI.

I love the way you think??? I hope you enjoy, anon 🙏🏻 I also might write more about this scenario in the future.

Your cock drove in and out of him—hitting his prostate with every shove of your hips. He’s came about two times now, slowly working up to his third because of you. Whimpers, whines, groans, you name it, all left Gabriel’s mouth. Along with the bratty remarks that got him into this situation.

All day, no, every damn day you have to deal with Gabriel’s attitude. Sometimes he’ll purposely do worse because he knows that it ticks you off. Also because you’ll end up doing something about it. Like you’re doing now. Finally deciding to fuck him senseless. You know that this is part of his plan to get what he wants. Yet you weren’t just going to give it to him. There’d be a few teasing involved.

“Is this—“ Gabriel paused to groan. “All that you can do? Wow, I expected better.”

“You don’t know when to shut that pretty mouth of yours, do you?” You replied. Thrusting your cock deeper into him. He tried to make it seem like you weren’t currently making him see stars with how good you were fucking him. Like he wasn’t fazed with how deep your cock was inside him. He wanted more. Of course he was going to voice it sooner or later.

You switched his position, putting his legs up on your shoulders. Just as he went to say something you shoved your hips against his. You must’ve hit his sweet spot straight on because his reaction was priceless. Gabriel’s back was arched beautifully, his eyes were shut, and a punched out moan came from his lips. So, you moved a bit, getting at an angle to you could continue to hit that spot. Picking up your pace and rhythm again, watching and noticing how quiet he’d gotten. “What? Cat got your tongue? C��mon, angel.” You teased. Stopping your hips and pulling out just before the tip. You felt him clench around you and it made you groan.

You leaned down, breath fanning over his ear. But instead of whispering another tease into his ear, you shifted and kissed his jaw. Making your way to his lips. Once you got there you didn’t kiss him; you kept your lips a few centimeters apart. “Are you gonna fuck me, or keep talking?” Gabriel murmured. Looking at you with those puppy-eyed like eyes.

“You’re one to talk.” You say, rolling your eyes before planting a kiss and pulling back. Then fully shoving your cock back in. He cursed under his breath, back arching slightly again.

A few minutes have passed and Gabriel started talking again. He wouldn’t stop. Somehow he gained even more confidence than he already has. “God, you fuck like a virgin.” Knowing damn well you fucked him so good once he couldn’t even speak correctly. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows how you’ll react. So finally, you found that spot within him again. Your grip on him tightened and your thrusts got rougher. Hell, it shut him right up. He held a tight grip on the sheets underneath him. A moan left his lips along with a quiet whimper. And he got so damn loud. At one point you swear you could see tears forming in his eyes. His cock bounced with every thrust you gave, and his mouth opened but no words came out. Surprisingly.

It got to a point where he started to squirm. But it didn’t last long, you told him to quit. At first he didn’t comply, or he was too fucked out to even make out what you said but he eventually stopped with a defeated groan. “How many more times am I going to have to do this for you to get your act together? I’m starting to think you like this. Do you like me fucking you till you cant think?” You asked. And to his response was…something you couldn’t understand? Gabriel was speaking, yes, but what?

Oh.

You fucked him so hard he couldn’t even speak English. “Angelll,” You chirped, rubbing at his thigh with your hand. Well, you kept your pace up. Your hips stuttered a bit due to you being close but you managed. A whimper left his lips as his head went to the side. His eyes shut while his eyebrows were drawn up slightly. “I can’t…” Gabriel huffed, the rest of the words turning into words you couldn’t understand. He’d let out bits of Enochian every now and then, along with a few of his sentences. You fucking loved this. Knowing that you reduced an angel, let alone a bratty one, into a fucked out, blabbering mess? You think you should get an award.

You continued to ram into him as you continued to talk. Enjoying his reactions and little responses to your touch. “I can’t understand you, Gabe. Fucked you so hard you can’t even speak correctly, again.” You cooed. A hand reaching down to move his hair away from his face a bit. To which he cracked open his glossy eyes, swallowing the spit that formed in his mouth while leaning into your touch. “What happened to all that big talk? Hm?” You say as your hand moved down to his chin. Gripping gently to make him look at you more clearly. And his response was, yet again, Enochian.

When he realized that he did it again, he groaned and moved his head from your hand, moving his face to the side again. He wasn’t about to let you look at how semi embarrassed he was. Hell no.

You’re sure that this isn’t gonna be a one time thing. About in a week Gabriel will go back to being the bratty angel he is, and you’ll have to put him in his place once again.

[via-l0ve]

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

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

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

[kaivenom]

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.

[supernotnatural2005]

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.

[gabriels-golden-kazoo]

I’m just saying we were robbed (both on the screen and in some fics) of Dean and Gabriel being that one weird duo.

Like what do you mean they didn’t get a chance to drunkly sing karaoke whilst Sam cringed at his brother and boyfriend and Cas just sat there not really sure how to react?

Of course they did, and they fucking smashed it.

(Gabriel fell off the stage before the song finished and Dean absolutely lost it and laughed so hard he got a stitch, they were dragged out by their boyfriends.)

[supernaturalfreewill]

Your fingertips were slipping on the grit and wet earth, barely clinging on, and below you the heat and horror of Hell spiraled out at your feet. "HELP ME!" you screamed desperately. "SOMEBODY! HELP!"

Your left hand was shaking as you tried to hold on. You could feeling your fingernails splintering and cracking as you dug them into the ground in a desperate attempt to gain some purchase. But you were still slipping. Soon you'd be plummeting, down, down... right into whatever terrors and anguish were waiting below. Your skin would be singed from your body, consumed by flames, and—

Suddenly, from above you, there was a white glow bleeding over the edge of the cliff, shining out into the air like a laser of bright hope. You summoned the last of your breath, your arms shaking as you strained to hold on, and screamed out one more time. "ANYBODY HELP ME!"

Your scream was cut off by a gasp as hands landed over yours and a warmth seemed to spread through your entire body. Then a familiar face appeared above you, smiling that somewhat crooked smile of his. Gabriel.

He hauled you back up onto solid ground as if you weighed nothing. His hands landed on your waist and you gripped the front of his shirt, still trying to catch your breath, sucking in air as if you hadn't tasted it as long as you'd been dangling there. "G—Gabe—what—?"

"You're having a nightmare. It's time to wake up."

You started to glance back over your shoulder, to look at the edge of the cliff again, but his hand clasped your cheek and turned you gently back toward him.

"It's just a bad dream," he said again. "Time to wake up." You watched through your lashes as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, and the next thing you knew, you were gasping awake in your bed, drenched in a cold sweat...

You turned and looked at the empty space beside you. You reached out to touch the cold sheets. Missing him still hurt as much today as it had when you lost him.

[super-incorrect]

[During a dinner with Archangels]

Y/n - Have I told you how much I love you?

Gabriel - You might have but feel free to remind me

Y/n - Well I lov-

Michael - Enough! You have reminded him 11 times during this dinner alone! He remembers! We all remember!

[arjwrites]

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ my masterlist ˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

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100 follower event masterlist

SAM WINCHESTER X READER

Close- fluff, fem!reader Summary: Reader breaks her arm on a hunt and needs some somewhat intimate assistance. Who does she ask for help but Sam Winchester, with whom she shares a silent, mutual pining????

Take A Picture, It'll Last Longer- fluff Summary: While hunting with the Winchesters, you had picked up a disposable camera to capture some memories. Each photo represented an important point in your collective journey- all the while, hinting at a budding connection behind the scenes. 

Close Behind- angst, gn!reader Summary: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Sam- and that scares the hell out of him. Based on the song “Close Behind” by Noah Kahan. 

Heaven Hellbent- angst, fem!reader Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. Part 1 of the series! DEAN WINCHESTER X READER

Back on the Beach- fluff, angst, gn!reader Summary: Reader and the Winchesters find themselves at the beach for a rare day off after a long string of difficult hunts. Something about the special day changes things forever.

Bless the Broken Road- angst, fem!reader Summary: A glimpse into the broken road that led Dean Winchester to you. Based on "Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts.

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- fluff, angst, gn!reader Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

The Space Between- fluff, a little bit of spice, gn!reader Summary: Reader breaks their arm on a hunt and needs a little assistance. Dean version of Close (Sam x Reader)

In The Stillness- angst, fluff, fem!reader Summary: A glimpse into the ways you've impacted Dean Winchester CASTIEL X READER

Numb- angst, comfort, winchester sister!reader Summary: Reader is Sam and Dean’s sister. After a series of unfortunate events, she finds herself separating from her brothers to deal with her own shit the only way she knows how. Castiel, however, has a few things to say about it. 

Saving Grace | Part 2- gn!reader Summary: Cas is hurt after a hunt, and when he's hurting, you're hurting. Sometimes even an angel needs a helping hand.

Saving Grace Epilogue- gn!reader Summary: Ways the world has softened since uniting with your angel. Can serve as an epilogue or stand alone!

Lessons on Humanity- gn!reader Summary: Human!Cas arrives on your doorstep in need of a helping hand. Taking him under your wing, you offer him more than he bargained for.

GABRIEL X READER Long Day- gn!reader Summary: After a stressful day, a familiar face pops in for a visit. With snacks.

CROWLEY X READER coming soon (leave a request!)

[lyssak09]

Hey can i ask a Yandere archangels hcs (separated) where their obsession is their soulmates?

Pronouns for the reader can be She/her

I didn't know exactly if you meant them in like a soulmate AU or something so I just did some soulmate AUs from the wonderful @creativepromptsforwriting. Some have different soulmate AUs than others. I really enjoyed writing this! Happy reading 💙

Yandere Archangels soulmates

Lucifer

Name & Telepathy

Archangels weren’t made for humans, so why the fuck did a name replace his vessel’s soulmate’s name. 

When Lucifer took over Nick’s body he never thought about the soulmate thing his father put in place for you humans. Nick’s soulmate had already died so he didn’t really think about it.

Til he felt a burning sensation on his left arm one day, Lucifer saw Sarah’s name (Nick’s deceased wife) disappear and a new name replace it, Y/N.

You on the other hand were born with the name Lucifer on your left arm. Your parents couldn’t believe someone would name their baby Lucifer! When you were old enough to fully understand the whole soulmate concept you just thought your soulmate had cruel parents to name them that.

The thought that the Lucifer is your soulmate never even crossed anyone's mind. 

Lucifer wanted to know why he had a soulmate, he did research and found nothing about archangels having soulmates. This must be another cruel joke from his father. Like he could ever have a soulmate.

He tried to ignore it and pretend nothing changed. But a part of him wanted to know if you were real or not. Lucifer thought about you more than he would ever like to admit. To the point you could hear his thoughts, sure you’ve heard of soulmates being connected telepathically but never thought you’d be one of those who are.

“Why the fuck would he give me a soulmate? I fell from heaven because of humans, I wasn’t his favorite anymore because of them! They’re a broken, flawed, and murderous species! It's so like him to make one be my soulmate” You heard someone say, you shot your head up, looking for the owner of the voice. Finding nothing you try to brush it off and continue with what you were doing. “I wonder if I’m her soulmate? Now that would be a plot twist.” You hear the voice laugh. You’re either going crazy, or you can hear your soulmate. “Imagine, having the devil as your soulmate! HA! ‘Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Lucifer’ that would be fun to see.” The voice cackles. Yep, you’re going crazy.

Hearing him in your head has caused you to think about the crazy person who’s your soulmate, causing the telepathic connection between you to reach him.

“I can’t believe my soulmate is crazy. He thinks he’s the devil! He’s gotta be in an institution or something.” Lucifer hears right as he’s killing a lone angel. He stares at the angel whom he has in a choke hold, “Did you say something?”. The angel looks at him like he’s nuts. “Yeah, you’re right, it's probably nothing. Anyways, enjoy your snooze fest wings!” Lucifer grins then disintegrates the angel. “The person who is supposed to complete me says he’s the devil. I mean, that's crazy! I hope he gets help before I meet him if I ever meet him.” He hears the voice again, Lucifer whips his head around but finds no one is near. He thinks before he gains a smirk, “I guess she is real. I have a soulmate.”. Lucifer laughs before looking up at the sky, “Thanks pop, this should be fun”

Since hearing your voice Lucifer is interested in meeting you now, there’s got to be a reason why God made you for him. He won’t admit it but he enjoys hearing you when you talk to yourself, he gets to learn more about you. And unfortunately, you are in fact interesting.

The more he learns about you/hears you the more he feels for you. Finding you has become a priority for him now. Lucifer finds your inner thoughts and monologues you do to be both stupid and adorable at the same time. He’s falling for you without meeting you, not that he would admit that.

Lucifer will finally figure out where you are because of your thoughts. He comes to stake you out, he doesn’t expect to be smitten by your idiotic and stupid pretty face. It makes him angry how he feels about you now, not only was he falling for you just from hearing you and your thoughts, but now he’s actually physically attracted to you!

Lucifer will secretly watch you, either he’ll do it himself or have a demon do it for him if he has matters to attend to. Watching you, your daily routines, and how you interact with people doesn’t help Lucifer in trying to find out why you’re his soulmate. But it does unfortunately cause him to fall for you even more.

He’ll ‘coincidently’ bump into you sometimes, just to interact with you, even if it's just for a second. Lucifer tells himself he does it to learn about you and your weaknesses, but he just wants to see you and talk to you.

It starts to become less of a coincidence that he’s almost everywhere you are and more of a very creepy purposeful thing in your eyes. To the point where you just straight-up confront him on it one day.

“Look Nick, I’m starting to think you’re following me everywhere and it needs to stop. If you have something to say then just come right out with it.” You scold the man, expecting his smile to fall, but no… He smiles wider. The man you call Nick seems like he’s about to say something but he stops himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N,” He says giving you a look you can’t decipher. You shake your head and continue walking home.

The next day you would in fact see him again. Not knowing everything is about to change.

You enter your living room and find ‘Nick’ looking around it, picking up and staring at the photos you have up. “What the hell are you doing Nick? Why are you in my house!” You scold the man and her turns to face you. “I’ve come for my soulmate” ‘Nick’ smiles then pulls up his sleeve a bit up and shows you his left arm, your name clear as ever on his arm. You feel a shock and panic course through you, you scramble to look at your arm, knowing that it has said Lucifer all your life, and it still does. Confusion washes over your face. “My arm says Lucifer, not Nick.” You replied, your eyebrows furrowing. ‘Nick’ walks towards you. “My name isn’t actually Nick babe, it’s Lucifer. And we’re meant to be” He smiles and then his eyes flash glowing red…

“I know why my father made you my soulmate, why he made us soulmates. The irony of me falling for a human, the very species that caused me to fall and no longer be favorited or accepted by him, is too much for him to not enjoy.”

He takes you to your new home, Hell. Lucifer will confess how he didn’t want you at first but you’re so special and different. How could he not fall for you?

Gabriel

Telepathy & Dreamy

Archangels don’t sleep, right? Then why is he dreaming?

Ever since he went to earth and became one with his vessel (who is unnamed) he blinks and then finds himself in some weird place. A dream maybe?

He’ll be in said place for however long then ‘wakes up’ back wherever he was, more like he blinks then is back in his house or whatever. Like he never left.

The times he was shoved into this world/place (?) would vary. He couldn’t do much in this place. Mainly watch what happens. The main constant in the place was a girl, which happens to be you.

As he witnesses what must be dreams, he learns more about you.

You’re the best part of humanity he’s seen in a very long time.

Gabriel will start doing research, finding out what he’s witnessing is in fact someone’s dreams, his soulmate’s actually. He learns this is a part of the soulmate thing his father put in place for you humans. 

Why he’s yours or why you’re his, he doesn’t know. But he frankly, doesn’t care as to why. He just wants to know more about you.

Gabe will learn how to gain more control of your dreams, trying to manipulate them slightly, in hopes of talking to you.

Gabriel was quietly watching your dream from the sidelines. He found you so cute and adorable. Seeing what your brain comes up with as you sleep was also fascinating to him. He can’t wait to finally be able to interact with you and your dreams. Gabe is already picturing all the dates he’ll take you on in your dreams. 

You didn’t believe you had a soulmate for a long time, unlike most people when you dreamt you never saw someone consistently in your dreams, aka your soulmate. So when you started to see this man in your dreams you didn’t really think he was your soulmate, just something your brain conjured up.  

Until the man came up to you in your dream and spoke to you. You were happy to finally have a soulmate. The man you learned is named Gabriel and he was beyond giddy to finally be able to talk to you.

From then on when you would dream Gabe would change the dream, making it like dates. So you could learn more about him, don’t worry he already knows everything about you now 🙂

Gabriel doesn’t tell you that he’s an archangel or that angels and god actually exists yet, so when he tells you about himself he makes it simpler. “Oh, do I have siblings? Yeah, I have 3 brothers I was close to, the others I never really interacted much with since they were made way after me.” “Do I still see my brothers? HA! Hell no, not after the war- I mean the falling out between two of them.” “Am I close to my parents…..uhm no, my father abandoned us basically.”

But the longer this goes on he starts to show more of himself to you, his unhealthy feelings towards you. Becoming too touchy, sharing way more information about yourself than he should know, and getting irritated when you mention any male in your life. 

Gabriel starts to come off too strong. “You people believe in marriage right? We should do that then. Secure the deal legally!” 

He says that the 3rd time you talk to him in one of your dreams.

Gabe starts to push the idea of meeting you way quicker than you’d like. If you mention that he’s moving too quickly for you he’ll get upset. 

“What-what do you mean? We’re soulmates Y/N! You were literally made for me! My father made you for me! We’re meant to be!” Gabe exclaimed in frustration. You give him a strange look. “What do you mean ‘your father’?” You try to question him, Gabriel lets out a sigh before explaining that he’s an archangel and his father is God, who happens to actually exist. ‘He’s crazy! He thinks he’s an angel? He cannot be my soulmate!’ you think before trying to wake up and get away from him.

He didn’t appreciate you cutting your time together short. Nor will he appreciate it when you start trying to avoid him by not sleeping. Not only is that unhealthy for you but you’re staying away from him! He hates that. It feels like you’re abandoning him, and we all know how he feels about that.

Gabriel starts searching for you, which isn’t too hard since he knows way too much about you. While you’re trying to find out if you can get rid of a soulmate, or at least keep them out of your dreams.

Unfortunately for you, he knows what you’re trying to do, luckily for him, he can hear your thoughts if he focuses on you. You don’t know he can do that as your soulmate. 

After the fifth night of staying awake, you’re starting to get the sleep deprivation effects, such as hallucinating. Which will give Gabriel a huge advantage.

He’ll come for you after finally figuring out where you are in the world. It’s late at night and you’re too exhausted to fight against him or even realize that he’s real. You just think you're hallucinating when a man looking like your soulmate randomly appears in your room.

You honestly made it way easier for him to take you home, if you had slept more you’d be able to fight against him, maybe he wouldn’t have had to take you so quickly if you slept and met him in your dreams. But it's too late for it now. He easily scoops you up and takes you to your new home, his home.

“Welcome home, sweetcheeks”

Michael

Danger alert & name & telepathy

When Michael took over Dean’s body he didn’t expect to gain a soulmate, especially you. You were Dean’s soulmate, your name was on his left arm and everything. But after Michael was in his body for a couple of weeks he felt a weird sensation on Dean’s right arm, your name was starting to appear. 

He was more confused than anything. Why would his father give you two soulmates? Why would he make you his soulmate in the first place? 

Michael couldn’t understand why Chuck gave him, an archangel, a soulmate.

As much as he would have liked to ignore this, he couldn’t. He was intrigued. Not just because he somehow has a soulmate, but because you are his soulmate. His destined vessel’s soulmate is also his! That is fascinating to him.

So he’ll go through Dean’s mind to learn about you, even change up the imaginary bar he made to keep Dean preoccupied, to involve an imaginary you. He’ll learn more about you and why you’re so special to Dean that way. And it keeps Dean from realizing he’s locked away in his own mind/body for a bit longer.

The more he learns about you and sees memories of you from Dean the harder he falls. Who could see that coming?

Michael becomes obsessed with you, you’re not like other humans. Maybe that's why his father made you his soulmate.

He’ll also start to become overprotective, especially since he can feel when you’re in danger thanks to Dean’s soulmate connection to you.

You could be on a hunt with Sam or a dangerous research mission (to find a way to get Michael out of Dean’s body) with Cas, and be in danger till whatever creature was about to/was harming you all of a sudden disintegrates. But there won’t be a sign or a trace of what killed the creature.

You were pinned down by a vampire, trying to get it off of you while Sam fights his way towards you. This was supposed to be a simple hunt and research mission! “Y/N!” You hear Sam yell your name as he gets closer to you. “Y/N! I’m coming!” He yelled just as the vampire was going to bite me. I close my eyes and wince, but the weight against me disappears. I sit up a bit, All that's left of the vamp that was on me is some ashes. Sam and you look around trying to see who or what saved you, but find nothing. Not noticing Michael hiding in the shadows of the warehouse with you guys.

He won’t get to meet you for a while since you’re off helping Sam to get him out of Dean’s body, and he’s busy running around Earth. 

Michael has the upper hand though. You and Sam don’t know that he can hear your thoughts, because that's not a typical soulmate connection to have. You don’t know that you’re his soulmate yet either. So whatever plans you and Sam come up with are easily foiled by him.

Michael likes to try and implant thoughts into your subconscious using the telepathy he’s gotten as your soulmate.

He might convince Dean to work with him by manipulating him and telling him you can be his forever if he just works with him, Michael will even supply that apple pie life Dean wants. 

Michael will still be in control more often than not if Dean agrees though. He’ll let Dean control his body much more often than he currently is if works with him.

And how could Dean resist? Not only would he gain control of his body back, but he’d also get his soulmate and the dream life he wants, and he’d be able to finally act on all of his dark feelings for you while being able to blame it all on Michael.

You still only have Dean’s name on you though. This will infuriate Michael once he finds out. How can you be his soulmate but he’s not yours? It makes him angry and jealous. Shouldn’t he be meant for you just like you are for him?

But it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with him then everything is fine.

He is extremely manipulative. During one of your attempts to get him out of Dean’s body, Michael takes note of how much you love Dean and how you’re willing to do anything for him. He wants you to feel like that for him. 

So one day after another failed attempt to save Dean Michael makes a deal with you. Give yourself up and you’ll have Dean back. You want to immediately agree but why does he of all people want you specifically to give yourself up?

You demand to know why and he smiles. “Because I want my soulmate by my side.” His smile turns into a grin as he pulls up his sleeve on his right arm, revealing your name on it. You gasp, your jaw unclenches, going slack, and you scramble to look at your left arm. You’re afraid that his name has taken Dean’s place but find it hasn’t changed. “As much as I would love to explain it, I don’t know why my name isn’t on your arm when we’re destined to be together. But that doesn’t matter right now. Will you come with me or not?” He leans towards you as he crosses his arms. You pace in thought for a moment before looking at him, shoulders slumped and frown. “You promise you’ll let him go? Like vacate from him, find a new ‘vessel’ or whatever?” You question and nervously fidget. He licks his lips quickly before gaining an even wider grin, “Yes. I’ll leave his body.”, Michaels lies right through his teeth. He’d be stupid to give up his true vessel, the one that makes him even more powerful than he already was. But you don’t know this, so you reluctantly agree, thinking you’re saving Dean. No matter how much Sam screams at you to not say yes, that we’ll find another way to save him, you can’t hear him over the thought of Dean being free again. “I’ll go with you.”

[supernatural-bias]

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.

[mysterymachine67]

im back dude 😎 thinking about gabriel teasing and messing with reader all day to work him up, but softdom reader doesnt want to go too rough on him but just ends up snapping. because despite being cute, gabe is still just a brat 🙏

Pairing: Gabriel/The Trickster x M!reader

NSFW. Minors DNI.

I hope you enjoy!

Gabriel knew what he was doing. He knew what how you’d react, and what it did to you. All day he’d been fucking with you. Both suggestive and not. Suggestive would include him brushing himself up against you, hands on your waist when passing by, whispers in front of a few people, there are a few more. Non suggestive is just him straight up fucking with you. Two, for example, would be pulling a few mini pranks and purposely taking something when you’re not looking.

See, now, when dating Gabriel there is bound to be tricks played. You’ve grown used to it. But somehow today was probably worse than any other day. So yes, you did end up snapping. Which you never really do. Which is also what he wanted. But you couldn’t take it anymore. Especially since now he’s doing this.

—

Gabriel’s hand made its way lower and lower. His other staying placed on your hip. His breath fanned over your ear before beginning to speak. “Not gonna stop me?” He whispered. You disagreed with a hum. Wanting to make him seem like he’s getting what he wants. But little did you know you’d end up giving in. His hand went to your crotch. Cupping it and giving a small squeeze; testing the waters. You couldn’t help yourself, letting out a grunt from his action.

But soon you turned around, wrapping your hands around him and kissing him. Within a few seconds your hands moved down to his ass. Gripping, then hearing a groan from him.

“Are you gonna fuck me, or keep on stalling?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You pushed him to the bed; actually pushing him on it once you got close enough. Kissing him roughly and harshly along the way—teeth clanking together. You helped each other strip, though Gabriel had his clothes off first. Curses, moans, whimpers, all left his mouth. You prepped him more roughly than you’d normally, but he loved it. Getting what he wants, because he always does.

—

You fucked into him quickly, your cock hitting all the right places. He was made for you. His walls molding around your cock; the familiar feeling that he felt within him. But soon, you slowed down and leaned over his body. You knew what he wanted but he’d just have to wait.

“C’mon pretty boy, you gotta stop doing this. Makin’ me all worked up just to take it out on you. Or is that what you want? Hm?” You murmured. Lips barely brushing against his ear—before moving to look as his face. Which was staring at you with the softest eyes. Your gaze shifted all around his face, but soon landed on his lips. And before he could get a word out you leaned in and kissed him. Soft and sweet as if this fucker hadn’t been teasing you all day. His arms wrapped around you, legs doing the same to your waist. Your cock stayed within him, pushing deeper once you thrusted into him nice ‘n slow.

Gabriel broke the kiss with a soft but low moan. Lying his head back against the pillow beneath his head. Was he finally shutting up and letting you take the lead? Take control? It looked like it.

“Come on! Faster!” He whined. Although he liked the slow stuff every now and then, these were not one of those times. He needed it. You kissed him again, adjusting your grip on his body then pulling away just to thrust into him harshly. Your cock drove in, straight to his prostate.

Gabriel let out a loud moan—hands scratching at your back. His nails left long, red streaks that burned every time he did it. But in the heat of the moment it felt good. The burn mixed with the pleasure you were feeling. The bit of pain made it better. His reactions were beautiful. Reacting to every little thing that you did.

And you kept going till he was overstimulated and spent. Making sure he got the consequence to his action, but you know he’ll just going it again. A problem for a different time.

[via-l0ve]

Hey-hey!! I'm so glad I came across your posts on SPN!!

Let's imagine that the reader has severe menstrual pain. I'd like to see the boys take care of her during "those days". If possible, add Gabriel, I love him soooo much.

Period Pains (SPN pref!)🩷

a/n: hi honey!!! i absolutely adore this request. from someone with terrible periods, im sending you hugs and kisses

warnings: periods/menstrual cycle, mention of pain, cramps and things like that!!

Dean:

dean is scared

idk at first he thought you were gonna die

he was so scared when you curled yourself up in a little ball

he learned to just go with whatever you wanted

cuddles? always. stay the fuck away from you? gladly

literally ask him for anything he will be out and grabbing it for you within two minutes.

he’s always stocked with products for you

he also always has heating pads and medicine for you. he’s so worried about your health

he wants to make sure you’re comfortable

he makes you stay in bed and no hunts until the bleeding stops

he gets you presents

—

Sam:

sam has a whole bag for you

emergency pads, tampons, extra underwear, medicine

he gets nervous

is ALWAYS right by your side

floods you with compliments and worries

“are you going to be okay?” “yes sam. just like every other month.”

“you’re so pretty, y/n.”

just. ugh. i love him

he will go out and buy you pads or tampons or cups or whatever the fuck you use with no shame

he tries to not make you mad or overwhelm you

he always takes off hunts to be with you

what a cute boy <3

he just wants the best for you

—

Castiel:

first of all, cas is horrified that you have to go through this

when you explain in detail why you get cramps, he swears he almost passes out

poor boy is so worried about his love

he tracks it on his phone

just so he can stock up on products for you

he writes you love letters and buys you candy

he also will watch all of your silly little movies with you

you don’t ever have to ask

—

Gabe:

Gabe is always tryna make you laugh

he’s very ill prepared and he dosent know what to do

he annoys you accidentally a lot and then gets scared when you yell/cry/other emotions

he buys you flowers for every day of your period

he also learned somewhere that orgasms help lessen the pain of period cramps so..

aaaaaanyways

he watches your movies with you and cooks food you for constantly

he cried with you at bambi

“the mom dies????”

“Y/N WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME WATCH THIS?”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Trickster’s Pet, Part 2

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Gabriel & child!reader

Read part 1 here

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you find out Gabriel is dead, but then later you and the brothers are reunited with him

“We have to go back!” Sam tightened his hold when you tried to wriggle out of his arms. “Gabriel’s back there, we have to help him!”

Sam basically had to wrestle you into the back of the Impala before he got in the front seat, and Dean hit the gas. You continued to protest, demanding that he turn around.

“Honey…” Sam glanced at Dean before looking at you in the rearview mirror. “We can’t. Gabriel stayed behind to save us. He…he’s gone.”

“You don’t know that!” You cried. “We have to try!”

“He stayed back there to save us,” Dean insisted. “And he gave us this thing to keep safe.” Dean held up the dvd. “So that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“But…but…”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly, suddenly realizing how much his little sister cared about the archangel. “There’s nothing we can do.”

…

“Gabriel?” Your voice was soft and gentle, but Gabriel still flinched at the sudden sound. Sam noticed the way you were practically shaking with excitement at the discovery of your friend still alive, but you held it in when you saw how scared he was. Your excitement turned to horror when you got a good look at the tortured archangel.

“C’mere sweetheart,” Sam scooped you into his arms, turning you away from the sight. He didn’t want you to have to see your friend like that; beaten up, bloodied, with his lips sewn together.

You squirmed in your big brother’s hold, desperate to get to your friend.

“What’s wrong with Gabriel?”

“He’s gonna be ok honey, he just…he got hurt.”

“I wanna stay with Gabriel!” You insisted, still struggling in Sam’s grip. Sam was about to carry you out of the room when a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to see Gabriel looking at him; it was the first time he’d moved since he arrived at the bunker.

“You want her to stay?” Sam asked, surprised when Gabriel nodded. Sam reluctantly set you down on the library table, next to the chair that Gabriel was sitting in. You instinctively reached out and held onto your friend’s hand, and Sam was again surprised when the archangel didn’t flinch away from your touch, as he had all others.

“Sammy?” Your voice came out in almost a whimper, and Sam’s heart broke when he looked down to see you staring up at him, more afraid than he’d ever seen you.

“It’s ok honey,” he insisted, wondering if he should take you away despite Gabriel’s protests. “I’m gonna fix him right up, ok? He’s ok.”

You nodded, keeping hold of Gabriel’s hand while Sam got to work. He carefully cut the stitches on Gabriel’s mouth, noticing how Gabriel would squeeze your hand whenever it hurt. His brain was working overtime, constantly afraid that he was traumatizing his baby sister by letting you stay here to comfort a tortured archangel. You stayed strong though, gripping Gabriel’s hand even as your own shook.

“Alright, that’s it,” Sam said after snipping the last stitch. “Y/N, can you find Gabriel a room?”

“What the heck happened?” Dean asked after Gabriel followed you wordlessly out of the room.

“They tortured him,” Sam said quietly.

“Yeah no kidding,” Dean sighed. “What now? Do you think Y/N’s safe with him? I mean he doesn’t exactly seem like himself.”

“Honestly Dean, I don’t think Gabriel’s in much of a position to hurt anyone.”

“We need to get his strength back,” Castiel put in. “I think I might have a way.”

…

“He’s settled in.” Sam didn’t miss the nervous tinge in your voice. “What now?” You looked up at Sam, your eyes red-rimmed. “He…he’s really scared and-and hurt.”

“He’s gonna be just fine, ok?” Sam put his hand in your shoulder. “We have an idea on how to help him out.”

“I’m coming.” Your tone left no room for argument, although Sam could make you stay away if he wanted to.

“Fine by me,” Dean said, and when Sam frowned at him he whispered, “she calms him down. We might need that.”

…

The plan wasn’t going well. When Gabriel refused to take the grace, the guys tried another method: force. Just one touch sent Gabriel reeling, diving over the bed and huddling in the corner shaking.

“Stop it!” You cried out. “You’re scaring him!” You pushed past Cas and your big brothers, making your way slowly to the archangel.

“Hey Gabe,” you said quietly, your hands held out towards him. He watched you warily, shrinking in on himself. When you saw him retreating from you, you stopped your forward movement, opting to sit on the floor a few feet away. “I’m sorry they scared you. Is it ok if I come closer?”

Gabriel hesitated a moment before nodding, and you smiled and scooted closer to him.

“You don’t have to take the grace if you don’t want to. We’re just trying to help you, I promise.”

Sam and Dean watched from the corner of the room as Gabriel stared at you. Finally, he nodded.

“You wanna take it?” You asked, and he nodded again. You held your hand out, and Cas handed you the cool glass bottle, which you then passed to Gabriel.

Gabriel was just lifting it to his lips when all the lights in the bunker went out.

…

“Stay with Gabriel, ok?” To say Sam was worried about leaving his ten-year-old sister with a powerless archangel while a Prince of Hell was loose in the bunker would be an immense understatement, but he didn’t see any other option.

“Gabriel?” You turned your eyes to the archangel after your two brothers and Cas left. Gabriel just stared; he knew what you wanted, but he couldn’t do it. “Gabriel, please.” You gestured at the grace in his hands. “You can help them, please!”

Gabriel said nothing. He knew you were right, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go back to what he was before, he couldn’t fight Asmodeus just to lose again.

You turned away from Gabriel when the sounds of your brothers screams reverberated through the bunker. You looked from Gabriel to the door.

“G-Gabriel, please. I-I know you’re scared, I can’t even-even imagine what he did to you. But I…but I need you, please.”

Gabriel let your eye for a split second, but the pain and fear he saw there made him look away.

“I have to help them,” you whimpered, and before Gabriel could even look up, you were gone.

“No,” he whispered, snatching up the grace and putting the bottle to his lips.

…

It was a stupid idea, doomed to fail, but you did it anyway because your brothers were in danger. You saw Cas’s angel blade lying on the ground behind Asmodeus, and you were reaching for it before your brothers even saw you enter the room. Asmodeus, unfortunately, was quite perceptive.

“Well well, the final Winchester.” You felt your feet leave the ground as the demon flung you across the room, before using his powers to cause a searing pain to course through your stomach. You were screaming in pain before you even hit the ground.

“No,” Sam groaned, but he hadn’t even gotten halfway to his feet before another, more powerful voice invaded the room.

“Leave. Her. Alone.”

A brilliant blue light blinded you momentarily, but when you managed to look up, you saw your favorite archangel in all his glory; Gabriel, eyes shining and wings extending from wall to wall.

“Aww, did I hurt your favorite pet?” Asmodeus chuckled, and when he twisted his hand the pain returned to you. You barely had time to let out a cry of pain before Gabriel barely lifted his hand, and suddenly the pain was gone.

“The Winchesters are under my protection. And you no longer hold the power here.” Gabriel glanced at you for a moment. “You may not want to watch this.”

You closed your eyes when Gabriel pulsed blue once again. There was a cry of pain from Asmodeus, a flash of light, and then…

Nothing.

You opened your eyes. Asmodeus was gone. And suddenly there was Gabriel, lifting you by your arms.

“You ok, squirt?” He asked, smiling slightly. You gave him a shaky nod, and he pulled you into a hug, letting your weak limbs collapse in his embrace. “It’s ok,” he breathed. “You’re safe now, no one’s gonna hurt you.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” you breathed.

“It was about time I stretched my wings.” He smirked.

“So…you’re back?” Sam approached Gabriel slowly.

“Slow your roll, Winchester. I’ve got my power back, but I’m not ready to join your suicide fight.”

“But—“

“Look, I’m grateful that you guys brought me back, I really am, but…no. I’m staying out of this one.”

“Gabriel,” you spoke up. “Please, we need you.”

He shook his head. “You guys have this one. I’m rooting for you.” He gave a near-sardonic smile to your brothers before leaning down to you, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “But if you’re in danger, if you need my help…call me, ok?”

You looked up at him, wanting to be angry that he was leaving you guys, but you were still too relieved that he was ok.

“Ok, I will.”

He grinned.

“Great. Now turn that frown upside down. You’ll see me again soon, promise.”

And he was gone.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

[emo-markie]

*:･ﾟ✧ Supernatural oc/reader fic recs

I like to read. So I read. A lot. This is my curated selection of fics that make me feral. I highly recommend checking out the creators!

REMEMBER TO READ THE TAGS!

Last updated : October 10, 2024

red means work in progress

blue means complete work

(sorted by alphabetic order)

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SAM WINCHESTER

Birdcage Fires by FallingDomino on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

After finding a naked girl on a lonely stretch of California road on a stormy night, Sam doesn't have long to try and help the amnesiac girl before Dean drags him back into the life of hunting. Over the past three years, he never really forgot her, but when they reunite, the brothers discover something much more sinister about the night Sam saved her. Sam/OC, Before S1, skips to S4

Complex by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Sam Winchester will do whatever it takes to save his brother from Hell. When all else fails, he tries a spell—and botches it. Cassandra Holmes awoke from uneasy dreams and found herself transported to a fictional universe. Cass wants to go home. Sam wants his brother back. Maybe, working together, they can both get what they want.

Pie and Consqeuences by SteelRigged on AO3

Rating: T

Dean’s eyebrows were popping off his face. He looked at Sam, who had pie falling off his nose, and swallowed a smile. "You're getting slow, Sam," Dean said, and patted his brother on the shoulder. Sam wiped pie from his cheeks and chin. Veronica's rage had caught him off guard. She was one of the few people from his past he was still on good terms with. At least he thought they had been on good terms. At least neutral terms. Not pie in the face terms. “Oh Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean muttered, glowing with pleasure. “Don’t worry. I’ve been there. You probably deserved it.”

pythia - a supernatural rewrite by uncouth-the-fiffth on AO3

Rating: T

John goes missing. Like every time you use your Gift to track him down, it's hardly for his own sake. If it weren't for Dean, trembling under that too-big jacket on your stoop and working up the courage to even say Sam's name, you'd happily never think about their father ever again. Or what you're doing to Sam's life by pulling him back into the hunt. If it was up to you, John Winchester would never be heard from again. But the boys need you. So, you go.

I highly recommend checking out the author's other fics here: uncouth's spn fics

The LightBringer by I_Am_A_Silver_Lining on AO3

Rating: E

Waking in the body of Lucifer, having their memories and powers, should have been horrible. And it was... ...Until it wasn't OR Kore wakes up as Lucifer, powers, memories and all. She is still herself with a little something sinister sprinkled in and decides to rip up the script and throw the apocalypse out the door. However, her True Vessel seems to still believe she wants to get in him, but he'd MUCH rather have it the other way around... OR OC invades Supernatural and takes over the world one piece of trash at a time. with ART

This Untraveled Road (series) by BAPWarrior18 on AO3

By Fate or Free Will

Rating: M

In the year 2003, a witch unleashed a powerful spell that drastically altered the fates of thousands of girls and women around the world. Some were killed. Some were protected. Many went about their lives or deaths unknowing of their transformed purpose. However, each were meant to be soldiers in the war against evil. Each were meant to tip the scales in the favor of good. For one in particular, there would have been no tipping of the scales… if not for some higher being’s determination to piggyback not only on the spell, but on the things that had already been set in motion by demons. OR In which the Winchesters meet the original breed of hunter, causing tiny ripples that turns their world on its head. And brings forth the war of change. For better or worse.

War of Change

Rating: M

THE ROAD SO FAR… The Winchesters met their bespoke Slayer, shifting the balance of their lives and unknown to them, the fate of the world. The Catalyst awakened new paths, altered goals, and shifted motivations. Like a drop in a pond transforming into a tsunami. As intended. Six Special Children survived Cold Oak. Four Slayers fought at the opening of the Devil’s Gate. One Slayer met death and lived. One Slayer confessed and vanished. All the while, two beings of undefined purpose watched and plotted. None could have predicted the drastic turn of events caused by the union of Slayers and Champions. NOW Demons and hunters scramble to make sense of the new world order. Some revel in the change. Some attempt to fix the balance. Others struggle to carry out carefully constructed plans. In the meantime, the Winchesters navigate what it means to be Champions. The Catalyst comes to understand her true gift. And the purpose of The Connected becomes clear.

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DEAN WINCHESTER

one of these nights by uncouth-the-fifth on AO3

Rating: E

“S’ a good night,” Dean tells you, beaming, “we can do another round, right?” “Hell yeah,” you shrug, and raise your empty glass, “Here’s to alcohol poisoning, baby.” “Yeah,” Dean echoes, almost slurring. “Baby."

This Curse On Our House by Sonny13 on AO3

Rating: M

Faith has battles in her bones and nothing left to lose; a dangerous combination, but perfect for a hunter. But she's got demons out for her blood, convinced she can break some kind of curse, and they call her the Child of War - whatever that means. Things might be a little easier if Dean Winchester wasn't so damn frustrating.

Toil and Trouble by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: M

What’s the best way to infiltrate a coven? Be a witch. What does a modern witch need these days… Dean is going to be your familiar. He really wants to be a dog. He's not going to be a dog, and it works out way better and messier than either of you planned.

“Yeah, I have a Great Dean.” by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier on AO3

Rating: E

Dean is a good boy.

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CASTIEL

Angel 101 by kittenofdoomage on AO3

Rating: E

The angels are dying out in huge numbers, and Castiel, searching for a way to save Jack from being used by them, and to also save them, is called by another angel to assist in what he thinks may be the solution.

Branded by ObliviousApple on AO3

Rating: E

Basically, the first time Cas ever touches you, a brand appears on your arm. A brand that says his name in Enochian. Come along for the ride as you try to stop the apocalypse, save the Winchester's from their own idiocy, and fall in love with our favorite feathered bastard. Spoiler alert: the brand is a soulmate mark. Who saw that coming?!

David by therev on AO3

Rating: T

What if the person who found amnesiac!Cas when he stumbled out of that river in Colorado had been a man and not a woman? And what if when Dean caught up with him, he found that Cas had a husband? And what if he was a real character and not the throw-away that they made Daphne?

Empire State of Mind by saprrowed on Fanfiction.net

Rating: M

Castiel makes a friend in New York City. And like many New York sitcoms, this is a story about nothing.

Feathers by enter_the_phantom on AO3

Rating: T

The giving of feathers and the revealing of wings is a sacred act for an angel, and it's something Castiel doesn't take lightly. But if there's one human he'd enter into such a close bond with, it's Abby Singer, the Winchesters' hunting partner and adopted sibling. Whenever he's around them, he feels things he's never felt before, and as strange as these new emotions are, he doesn't want them to stop. Unfortunately for him, Abby isn't the most receptive to his presence. They've been stubbornly opposed to his awkward attempts at friendship ever since they first met. In fact, it feels like he's the only one who can't seem to forge a relationship with the prickly hunter. Even more unfortunately, it doesn't seem to matter anyway, because another angel has already beaten him to it.

Gas-n-sip by eratothemuse on AO3

Rating: E

You just needed a job. Who knew that getting one at your local Gas-n-Sip would end up like this? (Set in 9x06 “Heaven Can’t Wait”)

Guardian Angel by ZonateBiscuit on AO3

Rating: M

When you feel lost, you begin to pray. Charlie Crivens is lost, but she's not sure anyone can hear her. Slow build Castiel/OFC

I Was A Stranger And You Welcomed Me by dorkilysoulless on AO3

Rating: E

Whoever he is, he's either homeless or hitching. He's also too damn pretty not to take home.

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim on AO3

Rating: T

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”  “If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story. For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

The Original Cambion by thereluctantshipper on AO3

Rating: E

Just as they're gearing up to stop the apocalypse, Bobby, Dean, Sam, and more importantly, Castiel, meet the original Cambion, a half-demon half-human hybrid. And she wants to... Help them? OFC insert, starts roughly S5E16, will not follow story all the way through.

Questions and Answers by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

Castiel is becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his vessel. He comes to you with some questions.

Where Angels Fear To Tread by OrigamiDoll on AO3

Rating: E

Reader meets the Winchesters and Castiel when they roll through town on a hunt. They inadverdently expose her to the supernatural and turn her world view upside down. Soon, her house becomes a frequent detour for the boys and a friendship begins to blossom between the reader and Team Free Will. Castiel finds himself fascinated by the reader. Where will things lead?

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CROWLEY

Dead Body Moving by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: M

Nell never expected to return from her cross-country roadtrip, but when a fellow camper goes missing during her stay at the Grand Canyon, she may live far, far longer than she expected.

Like I'm Not Made of Stone by ProlixInSpace on AO3

Rating: E

In ancient Mesopotamia, one careless death-goddess invents a cruel curse. Its singular victim can never die, but will rather live the last single year of a random human life somewhere in time, every year, forever and ever. In Hell, a belligerent soul takes centuries of abuse from Lilith herself, and is molded through her cruel tutelage into something darker, more ambitious, and cleverer by far than your standard-issue demon. A pair like that can only become more than the sum of their parts.

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GABRIEL

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) by bumbleberrysky on AO3

Rating: T

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe... Chuck works in mysterious ways after all. [divergent around s13/the end of s13-- will likely have spoilers]

Along For the Ride by MyPurpleSkies on AO3

Rating: T

Danielle Awenasa Callaghan thought being a hunter was complicated enough. That is until she joins the Winchesters along for one hell of a ride that involves repeatedly saving the world from danger, falling for a Trickster that's more than he seems, hiding the fact that your godfather isn't exactly human from the boys you're beginning to see as part of your family, and discovering that she and the King of Hell share a mutual appreciation for David Bowie's music. Not to mention being told by a cupid that she's met her soul mate already. Oh, let's not forget that she nearly died and was saved by some mysterious stranger that Death refuses to tell her the identity of.

I Want to Tell you by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM) on AO3

Rating: E

He can’t tell her when she’s drunk. That wouldn’t be right. He’ll tell her tomorrow. He’ll bring her coffee and let her shower and then he’ll sit her down. Tomorrow. It’s definitely time. He has to get this off his chest and tomorrow is the day.

Kibble by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: T

Sam and Dean ask Gabriel to cat sit for you, and it leads to a surprising discovery.

Third Time's a Charm by The_White_Rabbit42 on AO3

Rating: E

Gabriel unexpectedly comes to your aid and reveals a part of himself you never expected to see.

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SIBLING OC

Dynamics of an Asteroid by NeQuittezPas on AO3

Rating: T

Sam thumped a photo album down onto her desk. Beneath the thin film of dust, the cover was dark burgundy. Margo recognized it at once. “Ah.” He was here for the other reason, then. The one she’d always dreaded, even if she’d imagined it more than a few times over the years. He was here because that photo album contained pictures of Margo from the time she was born through the time she was in high school. A rare few of them even showed her together with John Winchester—Sam’s father. And also, incidentally, her father. She was not prepared for this conversation.

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CHILD OC

Along Came Sophie by LaceyoftheTypewriter on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

Dean is still fighting supernatural crime with Sam when a pretty young plot twist named Sophie Gardner shows up claiming to be Dean's 15-year-old daughter. As she worms her way into his heart, he comes to realize what exactly he's been missing, and how far he'll go to fix what's broken.

Light of mine by TheTardyOwl on Fanfiction.net

Rating: T

A Fledgling is almost killed during one of Michael and Lucifer's explosive arguments. Gabriel steps into the role of Caretaker for the little Angel and discovers that his new charge isn't what he expected.

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PLATONIC OC

Student Housing by darkshrimpemotions on AO3

Rating: T

Sam decides to rent out rooms in the bunker to college students. Finding yourself in a housing bind just before the start of your sophomore year, you decide the dirt cheap rent is worth the risk that your landlords might be serial killers.