#supernatural gabriel fanfiction

[ghoastixx]

SPN Boys w/ angel wing tattoo gn! reader

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

Warnings: Mention of possible innuendos

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Dean

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Sam

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He'd rather have you than other angels anyways.

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

"So, angel, get this.."

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Castiel

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

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

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

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

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

It's cheesy.

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

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

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

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Gabriel

Oh this cocky bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Lucifer

I do not think he'd be a fan.

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

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

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

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

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Crowley

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

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

he's really indifferent about it :/

[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 ❤️

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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.

[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?”

[adderallinfluenced]

burgundy

gabriel x reader

warnings: slightly sub!gabriel (but mostly a switch) teasing, wing kink, smut, language, maybe overstim if you look hard enough?

Gabriel had been around since creation. Hell, even before that. During early stages of his life, he had been too busy to think about pursuing any sort of romantic interests; doing his father’s dirty work, delivering messages, avoiding fights between his siblings, whatever kept him busy.

In recent years, the occasional hooker or porn star was enough to suffice. He’d messed around with Kali, but there wasn’t any emotional attachment there. He preferred to be constantly on the go. That was until he met you.

Gabriel was instantly drawn to you. He tried, tried so hard to avoid it, for your own safety. If the wrong people found out he had a soft spot for you, that’d make you a target. But you’d stuck to him like glue. Neither of you could deny it. It didn’t matter what the Winchesters or anybody thought; he was your archangel. You were his person.

Now here you were, on top of him, peppering kisses along his jawline, fingers weaving their way through his soft, golden feathers. His hands gripped the bedsheets, and he let out a long, husky sigh. You circled your hips against his, grinding against him, earning a low groan.

“Sugar, please.” Gabriel whined, pushing his hips up at yours, desperate for any friction.

You weren’t about to give in yet, wanting to see how far he’d unravel. Sitting up, you looked over him, your eyes meeting his. His eyes were dark and wild with lust, staring into yours with need. The messy sight of him beneath you was almost enough to send you over the edge; almost. His hair was disheveled, breathing uneven.

He had no idea he was capable of wanting something so badly. You leaned back down over him, kissing below his ear, gently sucking the skin before moving to his mouth. He leaned up, meeting your lips with his own. You could almost taste the desire on him. His tongue made its way into your mouth, clashing with yours. When you came up for breath, you moved back down to his collarbone, kissing and leaving a line across him.

You moved your fingers further up toward the base of his wings, weaving through feathers and massaging deep into the muscle, earning a whimper from him. Now that was driving him crazy. Gabriel didn’t show his wings to anyone, apart from casting shadows, which was more a display of power. You were the first person to see them in all of their glory, which was probably the deepest form of trust he could ever give.

And here you were, using them to your advantage. Each movement across his feathers sent pleasure coursing through his very essence. He groaned as you hit a particularly sensitive spot, his grace stirring within him. Your name rolled from his tongue as if it were something from the gospel. It was almost too much. The room felt too hot, despite the fact that he was supposed to be unbothered by temperature. He wanted, no, needed more.

Part of him wanted to flip you over and fuck you right into the mattress until you couldn’t even think. On the other hand, he wanted to melt right there. He could die happily right then and there, with you on top of him, giving him your full, undivided attention.

Sex was not something archangels needed. God’s creatures and lust just didn’t mix. Sure, it was a decent outlet to blow off steam, but for the longest time Gabriel never even pursued it. When he did, it was just that; to blow off steam on some pornstar. It was never something he needed.

But at this moment, he couldn’t think about anything else. He needed you more than anything, as if it were a basic survival need; and in his state of mind, it might actually be. For the first time in centuries- perhaps ever, his mind was blank with pure, unfiltered lust.

“Y/N, I need you. Please.” Gabriel begged.

Nothing else mattered but you in that moment. His hands moved to your hips with a grip that, in any other circumstance, would hurt. You knew you’d be waking up the next morning with fingertip bruises. He had never wanted anything more in his entire life. You sat up, moving your hands down to his pants, finding his hard cock pressed against the fabric.

“Is that all for me, Gabe?” There was an edge of humor in your tone. It wasn’t very often you found yourself in this position. It was almost a humbling thought, that one of the world’s most powerful forces was a whimpering mess beneath you.

He pulled you back down on top of him. “Sugar, all of me is for you,” And there was not a single doubt about that.

Gabriel sat up, keeping you in his lap. His patience was gone, and he could barely even think straight. He didn’t have to put any thought into it, and just like that, and his pants, along with your own clothes were gone, leaving nothing to separate the two of you. He was quick to work, lifting his hand up to grab your breasts, massaging and thumbing over your sensitive nipples. He placed deep kisses at your neck, his molten hot cock between your thighs begging for friction.

He flipped you over, so that he towered over you. He spent the next few moments with his full attention on you, kissing every sensitive spot on your neck. Each little sound you made fueled him on.

“Gabriel..” You whined. Every ounce of you wanted him, more than anything.

“Oh, now you want more? Hm?” He replied, bringing two fingers down your your folds, rubbing back and forth. You were soaked. It was his turn to tease you now, and he wasn’t planning on giving in easily. He returned to your breasts, leaving soft kisses all over.

His fingers circled your clit, his touch light as a feather. You bucked your hips towards him, desperate for more. He groaned at your need, kissing and sucking at your neck, and at the same time, slipped two fingers into you. You tossed your head back, an embarrassingly loud moan filling the air. If this was the reaction two fingers got, you were in for a long night.

“You’re so good for me, sugar.” He smirked, curling his fingers to hit just the right spot. You cried out, the pleasure coursed through your body. He repeated the motion, slipping in and out of you, his thumb occasionally rubbing at your clit.

You reached up to grab something- anything, and your fingers met with his wings again. You gripped the feathers, pulling softly and he emitted a nearly inhuman sound. He’s starting to feel possessive, and it’s both scary and invigorating. His grace stirs deep within him, more than it has in a very long time.

Gabriel’s breath is shaky, and you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard him like this. When it comes to his wings, this is intimacy beyond the regular sex you have. In this moment, you’re touching him; his actual self, not just his vessel. That’s a rather profound realization. His fingers pushed deeper into her, curling again at just the right spot.

“Oh- Fuck, Gabriel..” You murmur, and he cups your jaw with his other hand, his mouth covering yours as he takes his fingers out of you. He stroked his cock, coating it with your juices. He guided himself to just the right place, leaving it right at your entrance. Your fingertips dug into the muscle of his wings, and electricity crackled through the air as he moaned your name. He rubbed his cock against your clit.

Gabriel bucked his hips forward with one swift motion, his hot cock filling you completely. You gasped at the intrusion, and his breathing hitched. For a moment there was silence between the two of you. You wiggled your hips, adjusting to him.

“You okay, sugar?” He murmured, beginning at a slow pace. There were no words, your mind blank with pleasure. You could only moan his name, bucking your hips up to push him in deeper. You could only hope he got the point.

And that he did, he planted his mouth onto yours, withdrawing his cock completely. His tongue danced with yours, and he thrust back into you, filling you to the brim once more. This time, he wasted no time. He set a hard, fast pace, fucking you damn near senseless. The room filled with the sounds of his groans, your moans, and skin on skin.

You moved your hands further up the base of his wings, massaging between the feathers, earning a whine at your touch. Gabriel couldn’t stand it. His grace whorled deep inside of him, and for once, he knew he wouldn’t last long. He reached down between the two of you, thumbing at your clit. You practically melted at the extra touch, pleasure coursing through your body in waves.

You recognized a familiar buildup deep within your core; you were close, and Gabriel knew it as well. He knew by the way you gripped his feathers, by the way your moans grew breathy, the way your hips bucked up at him.

“I’ve got you, sugar,” He coaxed. He was almost there too. The pressure built up, more and more, until you couldn’t bear it anymore. You cried out, clinging to him as your orgasm rocked your body, bucking your hips up at him. He following you quickly, his cock twitched, and he gave a couple more hard thrusts.

Gabriel cried out your name, followed by words in a language you’d never heard. Hot spurts of cum coated your insides, and he groaned, pressing his forehead against your chest.

The two of you lay there panting, and you relaxed into the bed, letting out a deep sigh. Gabriel rolled over to the side, pulling you into his arms. He stared down at you with dark, honey gold eyes, analyzing your movements.

“You okay, Y/N?” He murmured, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. You looked up to him, nothing but love in your expression, and nodded. You met his lips with your own, kissing him slowly.

“I love you, Gabe.” You whispered back at him. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. There was no question to how he felt about you, and he had just cemented that fact. You could die happy in that moment, and he was in the same boat.

————————————————————————

[arjwrites]

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ my masterlist ˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

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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!)

[constant-eggs]

I’d appreciate your recommendations! Does anyone have good fanfic recs for any of these pairings:

Rhaenyra/Alicent

Bonnie/Damon - Vampire Diaries

Regina/Emma -OUAT

Xena/Gabrielle

Mikasa/Eren

Azula/Katara

Ian/Mickey - Shameless

Eve/Vilannelle

Castiel/Dean

In universe if possible! Thank you everyone ❤️

[bohemianblasphemy]

Back to you

Archangel Gabriel x fem Winchester!reader

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

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

“He’s gone Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gabriel?”

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

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

“Nope, still here… trickster remember?”

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

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

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

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

Where has he been this entire time?

Why didn’t you hear from him?

It made you even more upset.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a quiet sob as he touched you, feeling his touch that you had longed for all this time but still avoided his eyes.

“Every day, I thought of you. Not a minute went by that I didn’t hunger to be with you… not one.” He whispered, wiping your stray teardrops.

You looked up at him finally, unconsciously leaning into his touch as he rubbed his thumbs against your cheeks. You breathed in deeply, exhaling a jagged breath.

“I-I never thought I’d see you again…” you uttered, bringing your own hands to his face and feeling him. Gabriel sighed softly, that same, dilated expression that he always adorned when he looked at you.

“I missed you…”

Gabriel closed his eyes, nodding softly.

“I missed you, so so much.” He whispered before opening his eyes again.

“I’m here now, and I will make it up to you if it’s the last thing I ever do. As long as it’s you, I don’t care… all I want is to make it right, please.” He practically begged, his face only inches away from yours.

You took a moment to think, still processing everything that has just happened to you in the span of… God knows how long.

It didn’t matter.

All that did however was you and him, together again.

“Please…” you muttered, desperation seeping into your singular word that needed his presence, his touch- his everything in that moment.

No hesitation was necessary on Gabriel’s part as he pressed a long awaited kiss to your lips, moving against you needingly- savouring the familiar taste of you that he dreamt about.

The kiss became more hungry, the desire becoming more and more evident between you both as you pulled away, pressing kisses down his neck as he let out a breathy sigh.

You looked at him with lustful eyes and parted, pouted lips.

“C’mon… we have some catching up to do.” You whispered, taking his hand and leading him down the hall of the bunker.

Gabriel just twitches his brow, smirking at your forwardness as he followed close behind you.

“Lead the way sweetness…”

[dark-dragon-8]

I want to write a supernatural fic where Sam still hunts while in college.

Like, hunting has always been such a big part of his life that he just can't live without it, especially when he knows other people are going to die and/or suffer if he doesn't help them.

I want Sam to be one of those students that you know never goes to any of the classes but almost always gets an A (or at the very least a passing grade) on all the exams/assignments (he both knows from experience and studies in his free time while on the road).

I want Sam to be the weird/cool guy at school that everyone theorizes about ["Do you think he has a girlfriend?" "He must be rich or something, how else can he afford to travel so much while still attending school" (he's not BTW) "I wonder who that guy that always drives him to and from classes/exams is" (that's Dean) "So he's a passenger princess" (they've never seen him drive), etc].

Everything about the show is the same (I might keep Jess alive though, IDK, like that girl who ends up having a crush on him so she's looking into him and finds out some stuff) except he's still in school and he & Dean always cover their faces/only Dean impersonates people (that work with the state/law & stuff) so that the authorities won't be able to connect things too quickly and ambush them while there's a test or something.

Sam is literally the cryptid of the school after getting his powers, like people literally see him get visions/mumble about future events in the middle of those rare lessons he comes to/exams/assignments.

After Dean becomes a demon, people start thinking he's his drug dealer and that they're a part of some Mafia group that needs a new lawyer/future new lawyer (hence why Sam is learning law) after they keep hearing hushed conversations where Sam practically begs this Dean guy to "Just please give it to me, please Dean I don't think I can take it much longer" (assuming "it" probably means like heroin or some other type of drug. Also how they finally found out Dean's name) and Dean begrudgingly handing him a small red vial and telling him he'll give him more, sometimes directly from the source (his wrist), later. Sam also starts bringing a second, smaller, steel water bottle to school after those interactions start but almost nobody notices (or they do and there are a thousand and one new conspiracies about it and what it means, after all, it could just be coffee for all they know, they can't be sure though, and they're too scared to ask whenever they do see him and he actually stays in school for a little longer instead of instantly leaving to go somewhere. So they don't really get the chance to ask him even if they want to).

They see him "give a random girl hickeys" in the alley right beside the school (he's actually drinking Ruby's blood after she got her throat slashed/slashed her own throat just a little bit so that they won't look too suspicious) and they think that's his GF. And then some other students see him doing the same to his drug dealer's (Dean's) wrist a few days later and they don't know what to think anymore [he was desperate (read; needed a boost before a stressful exam/lesson/finals week), okay? He wasn't thinking straight and all three thought it was at least somewhat okay as long as they were being careful].

One day, during a lesson because the others know he won't answer during an exam, Bobby (because he still isn't talking to John, fuck you John) is calling him, saying it's an emergency and that they need him there ASAP. He doesn't remember to control his reaction in front of the class and now everyone further believes that he's in the Mafia and that was his boss talking to him [they vaguely remember hearing him, quietly whisper, if they need him to bring his extra guns at the start of the conversation/if he needs to kill someone/if anybody died towards the end of it (all said somewhat casually, considering the situation, mind you)].

I imagine Gabriel coming over to fuck with him one day at the school and people thinking he's part of a rival group/family (that may or may not have joined Sam's own after betraying said family, depending on the timeline) based on their interactions. On that same note, I want Castiel to be like the boss's right hand/messenger and that their boss's name/title is God/the lord (if I was in that situation, I would think their boss is very narcissistic, but I won't say anything about it because crime and I don't want to die yet). And then when Godstiel comes around, Dean, who at this point knows way more than Sam about these rumors (because unlike Sam he's actually been around), makes him seem like their new boss (he might just use it to help him get laid, like in that one episode, but IDK).

I really want to write it, and I might just do it, I just need to finish the series first so that I'll be characterizing them correctly (these are all characters I already somewhat know about/saw) so we'll see if I remember it by then.

Feel free to use this idea but also I want credit/link to the story (mainly a link) if you do use it, since I want to read it regardless of whether or not I actually write this (knowing myself, I probably will. Like 78% will).

[winchesterszvonecek]

Clothes - [ Gabriel ]

Prompt: How he’d react to you wearing his clothes requested

Word Count: 1155

Warnings: female!reader, fluff, suggestive tones

A/N: the prompt was meant to be a headcanon but i decided to make it a little fic instead

Masterlist | Gabriel Masterlist

You were always cold in the mornings. No matter how warm the room you were in was or who was sleeping next to you, you couldn’t help but feel a chill. It’s what made getting out of bed that much harder for you most days.

And today was no different as when you woke, your eyes fluttering sleepily open at the sound of rowdy neighbours in the motel room beside yours, you were quick to feel the cold seep into your body. Right down to your bones in a way that had you shaking almost immediately and it was as though someone had you on vibrate.

Normally you’d just pull the covers back up and nestle into the bed until you felt a smidge of warmth beneath your skin. But this morning you really, really needed to pee, therefore you couldn’t wait any longer otherwise you’d burst. So you were left with no other choice but to suck it up, and face the cold of the room.

Before you did that though, you glanced to your side, the early morning sun that crept through the thin curtains casting perfectly over Gabriel’s sleeping face, making you smile softly as you still couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that you were dating an archangel.

If someone had told you back when you first met him, when he was making people believe they were being abducted by aliens and having alligators roam about the sewers, that you’d be here with him now you’d have laughed in their face.

Yet here you were, nestled beside one of God’s first born angels in bed after a night of… Fun. And honestly? If you could go back and do it all over again, you wouldn’t change a thing as there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be than right here next to him.

Well actually, there was one place you’d rather be right now and that was the bathroom. You may have stared dreamily towards Gabriel a little too long and now you were on the verge of being unable to control your bladder anymore. You swung your legs out of bed, wincing at the sudden coldness that cascaded over you, erupting your skin in fierce goosebumps that could be seen from a mile away, they were that prominent.

Your feet hit the linoleum floor with a soft thud, sending a chill straight up your legs as they carried you around the bed. You grabbed the first article of clothing you could find on your way across the room, of which most of your clothes had been scattered about last night in yours and Gabriel’s vigorous attempts at speeding things along as it had been a while since you last saw each other.

It didn’t click in your head that you’d picked up Gabriel’s shirt. The dark red button down that the angel favoured so much, which was evident by how often he wore that same outfit as he never had any reason to change. He didn’t sweat, not like humans did. He was able to clean them up with a click of his fingers should they get bloody or dirty, therefore he could wear the same clothes for a lifetime and never once need to change them.

And you were totally not jealous of that at all. (You were.)

But anyway, you didn’t seem to realise that you were wearing it, not until you left the bathroom, feeling much better, and spotted him sitting upright against the headboard, his arms folded over his chest and a rather cheeky grin on his face.

“Look at you…” Gabriel exhaled, trailing his eyes up and down the length of your body, drinking in the sight of you hidden away beneath his shirt. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were purposely trying to turn me on.”

“What are you talking about?” You chuckled, hurrying towards the bed again as even though your top half was covered, your legs were still bare and you always did get incredibly cold feet.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” Gabriel pointed out, watching with amusement as you slowed down on your travels across the room and glanced down at yourself.

He could see that smile itching to rise on your slowly blushing face. The way your hand landed on your stomach telling him it was fluttering beneath the fabric of his shirt and it was only then you both came to realise that even after the years you’d been seeing each other, you’d never once worn an article of his clothing.

“I was cold.” You said shyly, dipping your face to hide it from him.

You didn’t know why it felt so… embarrassing to be caught wearing his shirt given the things you both did together, but perhaps it was because it was seen as a more romantic thing than inherently sexual is what made you a tiny bit nervous as to his reaction.

“There’s no need to be shy, hotstuff.” Gabriel said playfully, cocking his head a little to motion for you to come towards him. “Not when you look far better wearing it than I ever could.”

He held out his hand the closer you got to him, pulling you onto his lap the second your fingers brushed and the moment you landed on him he could feel the goosebumps on your legs as they straddled him. His hands were quick to delve beneath the material, holding you close to him and allowing his own body heat to help warm you as he kissed you.

“Mhm, you like seeing me in your clothes, don’t you?” You teased, your shyness gone instantly as your arms slinked around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. “In nothing but your clothes.”

“You’re damn right I do, baby.” Gabriel whispered, the hotness of his breath puffing out over your lips before he took them in his again, kissing you with enough heat that it was like your entire body went up in flames. “It’s almost better than seeing you without any clothes at all.”

He kissed you once again, his hand trailing its way up your back, his fingers ghosting over the bumps of your spine in a way that had you shiver beneath his touch. Your own hand slipped from his hair, dropping between your bodies as you slowly began to pop open each button, something Gabriel was well aware of given how his lips rose beneath yours as he couldn’t help but smile.

It’s safe to say that what happened after that final button popped open, the way your bodies pressed tightly together; each brush of his lips and graze of his hands over every inch of your skin, was enough to make you forget all about the cold. And enough to make you want to wear his clothes forever as after that, you were pretty sure you’d never feel anything but hot ever again.

Like this? Apply to my Gabriel tag list here!

tagging: @lorileopard @captainkatya @Panickinanakin1 @darkenigma322 @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @peppermint-j @alexxavicry @evanbuckbuckley @calisto-thoughts

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[orchidshark]

I have an idea to write a supernatural fic (i know its 2025 fricken sue me) inspired by Epic. Some wild found family shit with def some Sabriel and Destiel thrown in there. Ofc just barely cannon compliant to make the story line and ships work.

Basic outline, Sam and Dean end up having to take in a girl (around 11) when her family dies and shes left with instructions to call John of all people. Oops tho they didnt get the message that his dead and she gets Sam and Dean instead. Already been raised by hunters and thus knowing WAY too much about the supernatural (great parenting choices made all around IM LOOKIN AT YOU JOHN), the boys take her in. We get some found family with Sam and Dean basically trying to do things better than their dad. "No, you cant come with us. NOT because you arent capable, youre plenty that, but youre a kid. So for once, be a kid." and stuff like that. I see Sam becoming more of a parental figure to her because of how he views his childhood compared to Dean. With Dean still in his "our childhood was pretty great, dad did his best" mentality, I see him slowly come to realize that giving a kid a GUN when they are scared of their closet was not a great choice.

Cas is there of course and Gabe comes back not long after faking his death in season 5 (I NEED MY SHIPS). The boys are able to get Sam back from Hell with the help of our fave archangel turned trickster.

The angels and demons are PISSED about their plans and figure that they need to separate this little found family. Dean and Cas are left alone at Bobby's to try and figure this all out and Gabriel is captured and taken to Asmodeus (I need his headquarters to be somewhere on earth with a connection to hell. this will make sense later). The angels take the kid and place her in a random ass town middle of no where and in the foster system, with only an Angel (im thinkin Anna cause canon does not exist here) keeping guard to make sure she cant leave and cant contact anyone.

Sam, cause hes sam and cant catch a break, goes on what he thinks is a normal salt-and-burn on his own but ends up being stopped by some supernatural being whenever he tries to go home. HE IS OUR ODYSSEUS. Lucifer is Posideon in this case, and wants him to feed into the "monster" within him so he'll say yes again and finally take over. Sam is constantly beat down, losing every person he comes into contact with on his journey, and becoming the "monster" or hunter in this case, that John was always trying to get him to be. He just wants to get home to his family.

The girl, on the other hand, is stuck with no way home and just wants to be with her family again. She wants to be just like Sam and Dean and decides so start doing research and helping out in this middle of no where town when crazy supernatural stuff does happen. She was raised by hunters and then our favorite boys after all so she has a good idea of what to do but cant actually ask anyone for help. SHE IS OUR TELEMACHUS.

They are all separated from each other for about 3 years.

She eventually finds that Anna has a bit of a soft spot left from when she used to be human and creates the opening to Asmodeus's for the kid to find. She stubbles in there and finds who? her basically step-dad, Gabriel! She steals him away and finds some of his grace to take back with her. He starts to get better but then the kid is taken. Gabriel is strong enough now to send a message to Cas. Anna thinks they all have been punished for too long.

Sam finally beats the shit outta lucifer and makes his way to bobby's just as Cas finds out that Gabriel and the kid are alive and in the same place. Our trio runs to this backwater town and heads down to Asmodeus's. The suitors are the Demons there and Sam is in a fuckin RAGE. They not only kidnapped and tortured his boyfriend for the last three years (much longer for Gabriel) but now they have his kid. Two of the people hes been fighting so hard to get back to. Sam (with help from Dean and Cas) fight off the demons and find the kid. On the way out they find Asmodeus and hes PISSED. At the last moment, Gabriel comes in full archangel and smites the bastard.

And of course we end on reunions all around (think "I cant help but wonder") and a supernatural rendition of "would you fall in love with me again" between Sam and Gabriel (cause HE IS OUR PENELOPE). Sam feels like hes changed, hes not the same person he was when he left. Hes done horrible things, killed so many creatures, allowed so many to die, just so he can go home. He wants to be with his family but knows that he might never be able to be Sam again. Gabriel has been under Asmodeus' watch for years, his grace diminished, waiting for someone to come and find him. He hoped it would be his family, his Sam. And now that he's got Sam back? Hes never letting go again. He'll fall in love with Sam over and over again because he may have changed but his soul didnt. And damn if Gabriel hadnt been waiting.

So thats my idea..........sorry this is long but anyone like?

[samdeancass]

Soulmates

Requested on Quotev

Pairing: Gabriel x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Characters: Gabriel, Y/N

Description: Y/N helps Gabriel deal with what Asmodeus did to him. While doing this, she discovers why she can see his wings.

"Gabe..baby..please wake up!" You were trying your best to shake Gabriel awake from the nightmare he was having. They have been happening since he was tortured by Asmodeus, and it killed you that you didn't know about it. The moment when he stepped foot into the bunker, a beaten and broken shell of the angel he used to be ultimately broke you. He would flinch whenever somebody walked too quickly beside him or too close to him. You thought he had broken through when he healed himself and killed Asmodeus, but it was just a facade. He was a broken shell of the angel you loved, and it broke your heart every day, and you wished he would come back to you. You would hear him crying to himself when you walked past closed doors and having nightmares some nights, and now, things were getting worse. The nightmares were becoming a nightly appearance, and it was getting harder to try and console him. But you were determined to stand by him, your love for him growing stronger with each passing day. "Please, baby, wake up." You climbed on top of him and shook his shoulders as hard as you could and breathed a sigh of relief when his eyes fluttered open, wide and afraid. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. Did I wake you again?" You shook your head and moved off him, sitting up. "Never mind that, are you alright? That was the worst one yet! What happened?" Gabriel sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands. "It…it was just so real as if I was still there. Everything he did to me, I could feel it over and over again, and I couldn't escape the pain. I just need it to stop; it's breaking me from the inside." As Gabriel confessed, tears welled up in your eyes. You longed to alleviate his pain, to erase the memories of his torture. But all you could do was love him, and that's what you did. You reached out and enveloped him in your arms, a gesture of your unwavering love and support. "I love you, Gabriel, and I always will. I will support you through this and do whatever it takes." A flutter of wings was heard, and a new warmth enveloped your body. Pulling away, you carefully caressed a few feathers around your shoulder, causing Gabriel to shake them slightly. You looked his way and gave a questioning look, and he stared at you with wide eyes. "You…you can see them?" "Yes, I always have. I thought everyone could." He took your hands and gave each one a peck as tears rolled from his eyes. "No, princess, only one person can see an angel's wings, and that's their soulmate. I always had an inkling that you were mine, but I could never confirm it, and I didn't want to ask in case you didn't." You rested your head against his and pecked his lips. "I always knew you were special, Gabe. My mission is to help and support you through this pain and make you happy again, my angel." He pulled you against him and lay down, gathering you in his arms. "What did I ever do to deserve someone as special as you?" Kissing the top of your head, he fell asleep again, this time in a peaceful slumber and for the first time in a while, you fell asleep happy, knowing that you both might just make it through this, with the hope that the revelation of your soulmate connection brings.

Tag List:

@akshi8278 @bxoken-heartss @deascheck

[couldyouimagine-that]

Dance Out the Blues

Genre; hurt/comfort

Word count; 1.0k

Warnings; just the reader feeling a bit down

Pairing; Gabriel (Supernatural) x Reader

The reader feels bad for no discernible reason (hey didn’t I write a Lucifer story that started like that? :D) and Gabriel knows exactly what to do to lift your mood.  

This is just a lot of Gabriel being goofy to make the reader laugh. I had fun writing it, let me know what you think - and remember, if you can put on an upbeat song and dance to it, it really does help!

Masterlist

-

You could sense the moment your mood changed. Your previously good day soured suddenly, leaving you feeling low on energy and inexplicably down on everything. You doubted anything about you changed in terms of your expression or body language, but one of the perks of having an archangel care about you is that nothing needed to physically change.

Gabriel could sense the moment your mood changed. He’d seen this happen to you enough times, he knew how it would ruin the rest of your day and how hard it was for you to recover from feeling the way you did. He had also silently paid attention to how you dealt with these situations yourself, so he knew what would help you recover.

Without wasting a moment, he strode straight over to where you were sitting at the table in the bunker’s library. You were behind a laptop screen, not reading the lore you had previously been poring over as you no doubt overanalysed what was going on and why. Gabriel had often spent time – days, weeks on end – doing the same thing. But one thing his many millennia of life had taught him was that it was no good. A complete waste of time in his opinion, particularly when he had such an easy fix for you waiting right up his sleeve.

You didn’t look up at him when he arrived behind you, but he grabbed the back of your chair and spun it with you still firmly seated so that you were facing out towards him. That had your attention on him where he wanted it, but you didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed at him for interrupting what you were doing. You went to ask what was going on, but he leaned down and snatched your hand up before you had the chance. One gentle tug – by an archangel’s standards at least – had you on your feet. He gave you an award-winning grin, mirth twinkling in his eyes, as he dragged you along the length of the library before you knew what was happening. He ignored all your aborted iterations of what’s happening, what are you doing, why are you doing it in favour of just speeding up. You clocked the suspicious (Dean) and surprised (Sam) raised brows from the Winchester brothers, but Gabriel ignored them too.

“Come on!” Gabriel encouraged you warmly, pulling your arm up above your head and drawing you into a twirl. You had to smile when he didn’t give you a second to recover, twirling you again at the end of the table then snapping his fingers. Your surroundings became a grand dance hall, all polished wooden floors and high ceilings. He snapped again and music filled the room, but it wasn’t coming through any speakers you could see. The song was upbeat, one which you held close to your heart and which filled you with enough energy to dance the night away if you had the chance.

You didn’t remember ever telling Gabriel that you loved this song, but the playful flick of his brows said you didn’t need to ask, he just had his ways. He started dancing by himself, moving his hips to the rhythm and backing away from you in light steps. He held his arms out in front of him, again encouraging you to follow, and giving you the most overexaggerated pout you had ever seen when you didn’t immediately go to him. That had you laughing in spite of yourself, but then he sashayed back over to you and swept you into his arms.

Gabriel made you work to keep up with his energetic steps until you started taking the initiative yourself, matching him with your hips, shoulders and feet moving in time. He stepped back, spinning himself in place and donning an excessively styled black mustache when he turned back around, curled up at the ends and stuck into place with adhesive. This was accompanied by a costume change, his casual jacket replaced by a white button up rolled up to the elbows and a patterned vest. His grin sharpened to a smirk and he dropped his head forward, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. You laughed openly, exactly what he was aiming for, and you were back in his arms before you knew it.

Gabriel managed to make it impossible for you to look away from him, spinning and twirling you until you could hardly keep up for your breathless laughter. He drew you into a low dip as the song ended then brought you back up to his chest. You held his shoulders for support, leaning your forehead against your hand as you caught your breath. When you moved back, still smiling, there was a challenge in Gabriel’s eyes.

“Feel better?” He asked, self-confident and cocky and yet still lovable for it.

“Shut the hell up,” you hit back, shoving him and turning away to hide your smile. He was behind you in seconds, arms wrapped around you and leaning over your shoulder to see your face.

“You feel better,” he stated, confirming the fact with himself by saying it aloud. “You can admit it, it won’t hold it against you.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, eyes bright and tone cajoling. “I’m waiting.” You condescended to meet his gaze but refused to move your head to do so, giving him what you hoped was an effective side eye.

“Your mustache is falling off, idiot.”

He leapt back with a horrified gasp, hands flying to his face to straighten out the offending accessory. Your snort was anything but graceful. Gabriel struck a pose with his newly fixed moustache which had you dissolving into laughter all over again.

“I do actually feel better though,” you admitted after a moment. “Thank you for – whatever you did. It worked.”

“I know,” he offered. Cocky. Self-confident. Still. “Wanna tell me how you’re gonna make it up to me?” Your head tipped back with the weight of your scoff.

“You wish.”

The good-natured banter went back and forth as Gabriel snapped you back to the bunker, Sam and Dean gave you identical looks to when you had left, and the hours of reading you had ahead of you suddenly didn’t feel so bad.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader AU

Summary: Dean Winchester and Y/N Singer have been best friends since childhood—until one dream changes everything. After a drunken mishap and the resurface of feelings buried, the line of friendship is crossed. The solution? The Arrangement. However, as their story unfolds, lines blur, jealousy flares, and before long, they’re forced to face the truth—maybe “the one” has been beside them all along.

Set in the year 2005 (for reference)

AN: I'm too excited, I have to share the news!!! This story has been a WIP for a while now. It's something I have really enjoyed writing and would love to share with you all. So join me on a thrilling ride of all of our favourite tropes in fan-fiction of love, angst, smut, heartbreak and everything else 😘

Main Masterlist

Chapters containing adult themes/smut (18+ ONLY) will contain **

Will be updated every Friday, starting from this week.

Chapter One

Chapter Two **

Chapter Three - 21/02/25

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

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 and their respective series 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77

[delusional-fantasising]

Ranting warning! Supernatural themed

Okay I realised I haven't seen this before but what if there is a Dad!Gabriel? Like speed up the whole Asmodeus arc before Lucifer gets Kelly pregnant and he finds out that Kelly gets pregnant.

So hear me out

Gabriel gets drawn towards Kelly and assists her with Castiel in hiding her away. He gets attracted to the baby and gets this strong connection. This is because he is known as a powerful guide for children (Hence why in the show he is portrayed as childish and goofy)

He gets the instinct to take in his older brother’s son, he takes in Jack directly after Kelly dies vowing he will protect the kid with his life. Jack stays as an infant and Gabriel runs off with the baby. He hides Jack from everyone including Castiel as he becomes completely protective and he knows that Dean and Sam don't trust Jack. He fears that they will try hurting Jack.

Gabriel gets this strong bond as he doesn't want his adopted son to witness the evil in the world in unhealthy ways like how the Winchesters went through so he teaches Jack everything. He also decides to be truthful and not hide who is biological father is, he teaches all the mistakes that everyone makes and teaches how to avoid them. He teaches Jack how to use his powers.

Once Gabriel is caught after a few months Jack would reflect the archangel, the maturity and the immaturity of Gabriel. So Jack is very much different in the sense he has a strong sense of justice and he can be immature in the right times versus how Gabriel can be at times.

Jack will also despise Lucifer and doesn't trust him one bit, so when he is stuck in the alternative universe he doesn't trust Lucifer's words one bit. He was also taught by Gabriel that Lucifer will do everything in his power to manipulate everyone to do what he wants.

Overall Jack would be a lot different with a new unique personality and a new set of powers that reflect Gabriel's trickster skills. His personality would be a bit more goofy but mature. I think he would be also good at reading people and having a good sense of empathy towards humanity so he won't ever become like Chuck.

I think Gabriel would make a good father

[astral-06-17]

The art of Human Mortality by canoodlebanoonle (AO3)

[arjwrites]

Long Day- Gabriel x Reader

Summary: After a stressful day, a familiar face pops in for a visit. With snacks.

Warnings: None! GN!Reader, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Thanks so much for this request AAH!! I hope you don’t mind that I wrote this as gn instead of speificially male reader! I’m so glad you requested Gabriel, he is literally my pookie and I have been waiting to write him. Thanks for being patient, I really hope you enjoy <333

Work sucked today.

In all honesty, a lot of things sucked today. Your alarm didn’t go off in the morning, so you were late getting out the door. You didn’t have time to eat breakfast, so you spent the first half of the day equally starving and exhausted. Your lunch wasn’t good, your coworkers were annoying, and your boss was on your ass all day long. So when the day was finally over, all you wanted to do was get home and mope.

As you entered your apartment, you let the door slam behind you in hopes it would shut the horrible day out with it. The noise echoed through the room before dissipating into the quiet space. Normally, you’d be quick to pop on some music or put something on the TV, if for nothing else but to fill the silence. However, today being the day that it had been, all you could do was throw your work bag down on the first surface you could find before flopping face-first into the couch. 

With your head in the cushions, you channeled all the stress in your body into a long, low groan. The couch muffled the sound so much that if anyone had been in the room with you, they wouldn’t have been able to hear it. That didn’t stop Gabriel, who materialized in the room just as you finished letting out the noise of frustration. 

“Well, that’s not the position I expected to find you in,” you heard him huff. The sound of wings had alerted you to his arrival, so you weren’t surprised when a sassy comment followed. Rather than responding verbally, and without lifting your head, you grabbed a couch cushion and sent it flying in his direction. 

“Hey, what was that for?” You could practically see the expression on his face- the dramatic feigned offense you knew all too well. You rolled over so you could look at the archangel, letting half of your body hang over the edge of the couch lazily. Gabriel stood with a swagger in your living room, a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes that always left you guessing what antics he was up to. Usually, that was one of your favorite things about him. But today, you weren’t in the mood for his usual mayhem.

“Not now Gabe. I had the worst day ever.” You rubbed at your forehead as you spoke, attempting to dull the budding tension headache. 

“Yeah, kid, I could tell by that growl. Why do you think I’m here?” He strolled across the room, casually plopping down next to you and kicking his feet up like he owned the place. As you sat up, suddenly conscious of the ungraceful way you were sprawled across the couch, he reached for the TV remote. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out a little sharper than you intended. 

“Whatcha wanna watch?” He didn’t even look over at you as he spoke, eyes locked on the screen. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Hmm… You seem a little down in the dumps, so do you want to watch something sad? Let it all out? The Notebook? Or we could do a comedy for a little pick-me-up. You know I love a good comedy. Have you seen-” 

“Gabe, what’s going on?” you cut off his rambling, a bit confused by his actions. You knew angels pretty well at this point, enough to know that sitting down to watch a movie was not typical behavior. But here he was- the all-powerful archangel Gabriel, getting comfy on your couch as he scrolled through Netflix recommendations. He didn’t miss a beat in responding to your inquiry.

“You’re upset, I heard your prayer. I’m here to make you feel better. I even brought snacks!” He snapped his fingers and bowls of popcorn and candy appeared on your coffee table. You giggled a bit, in spite of yourself, but pressed on. 

“But I didn’t even pray.”

The archangel huffed, his eyes pulling away from yours and settling on the ceiling as he thought for a moment. 

“Look, kid. I care about you. I keep tabs. Sometimes, when your emotions are strong enough, I can hear them, even if they’re not quite a prayer. And whatever that noise was, it was loud. So we’re watching a movie and we’re having some snacks.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that crept up onto your face- it was probably the only one that had been there all day. All his words were sweet, but you had gotten caught up pretty early on in his sentence- I care about you. Suddenly, a horrible day didn’t feel so bad.

“Alright. Let’s do it.” 

Gabriel chose some stupid comedy movie he swore you had to see. As the opening credits began, he tossed the popcorn into your lap and settled the bowl of candy in his. There was silence for a while, save for the crunching of your snacks and the occasional giggle at a funny joke. As the plot of the movie developed, he reached across the couch in an attempt to grab a handful of popcorn. 

“Come on, I can’t reach. You gotta scooch over here.” 

You obliged, wiggling your way down the couch to get closer to him. At the same time, he scooched to meet you. Your legs bumped together, sending a few pieces of popcorn flying as you settled in the new proximity. It wouldn’t register in your mind until later, but the archangel never ate anything but candy. There was no reason he needed to be able to reach the popcorn- no reason besides his desire to be closer to you, and his fear of telling you that outright. 

As the plot thickened, the two of you lingered in your position side by side. Your shoulders would brush together as you reached for the snacks, sending a buzz of nerves through your body each time. You locked your eyes on the movie and willed the blush away from your cheeks, but you could feel it creep back up each time you caught him looking at you out of the corner of your eye. 

If there was one thing about the archangel-turned-trickster, it was that he had a good sense of humor. This movie was funny, you had to admit. Between the laughs from the jokes (both the movie's and Gabe’s), the satisfaction from the snacks, and the butterflies from being close to him, you were starting to feel the day’s stress melt away. He really knew what he was doing. 

When a particular joke really got you, you threw yourself forward in a belly laugh. Too caught up in the humor of it, you completely missed what was happening behind you, until you leaned back into your seat and felt an arm settle across your shoulders. You eyed Gabriel suspiciously. 

“What? Just getting comfortable, sugar.” 

Suppressing the nerves the increased contact triggered, you shifted so you were snuggled into his side. The second his arm reached the rest of the way around your shoulder, finding its way to the skin of your arm to draw soft circles, any worry that was left in your body finally washed away. This was seriously bliss. Your breathing slowed and deepened, officially dragging your body out of the fight-or-flight mode it had been trapped in all day. Every muscle in your body relaxed as you reveled in the chance to be this close to the archangel. 

This movie was long. In your state of relaxation, you were finding it harder and harder to pay attention to the movie, instead inching closer to sleep by the second. When Gabriel peeked down at you, watching your eyes flutter shut, he couldn’t help but smile. He pressed a careful kiss to your forehead, sealing the deal and sending you drifting off into a dream. 

When you woke, hours later, it took a second for you to register where you were. Blinking your eyes open, you found yourself in your bed, down the hall from where you had fallen asleep on the couch. With Gabriel. Using your elbows to prop yourself up, you scanned the room for any signs of the archangel. He was nowhere to be seen, but on your bedside table sat a note, scrawled in handwriting you didn’t recognize. 

Sweet dreams, sleepyhead. Hope you feel better. Call me whenever you need- I’ll be listening. 

Love, Gabe. 

Snuggling back under the covers, you let yourself drift back off to sleep, your dreams sweet and full of laughter.