(Oh yes indeedy. You can even have a gif, my love.)
Benny was a quiet man. Well, quieter than Dean by a longshot anyways. He took in every situation with a shrewd eye, always watching and ever vigilant. He always played casual, pretending the thrum of heartbeats never bothered him even when he was hungry. It wasn’t until a certain night that your boyfriend just didn’t seem to be his usual self.
It was late at a bar, a hunt with the Winchesters gone well enough to deserve a round of beers. The bar was scuzzy, though a few of the patrons were less so- including several frat boys playing pool in the corner. Dean even chuckled, mentioning hustling them later as your eyes clashed with one of the guys in the group. You quickly avoided his gaze, easily distracted by the heat of Benny’s hand at your back, ushering you into one of the tall stools by the door.
As the night progressed, Benny shifted closer and closer to you, his hand wrapped protectively around you as you drank. The boys noticed his odd behavior too, their eyes drifting over to him several times. It wasn’t until the guy that you’d made eye contact with earlier came up to your table, asking to buy you a drink, that you realized what was going on. The guy stood there, smile on his face and too much product in his hair, waiting for your answer. You were sure Benny was glaring at him, just by the way his fingers dug into your side, though the man was either incredibly ballsy or very stupid.
It was the latter.
Only moments after the man put his hand on your thigh, he was up against the wall, Benny’s large hand gripped tight to his throat. You could practically feel the waves of anger rolling off of the vamp as the guy breathed heavily through flared nostrils. “’M gonna tell you this once, alright. Ya keep yer grubby little mitts off my girl. You understand?”
He waited until the man nodded to let him go, watching as he scurried off toward his friends. He turned to the three of you, all standing close and watching him. He just twitched a smile and pulled you in close, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing over the pulse in your neck. “mine,” he mumbles. “All mine.”
Summary: After Castiel was able to preserve a small piece of Gadreel after his sacrifice in heaven, Sam and Dean enlist your help in mending the angel back to health. Though you have theoretical knowledge of angels, dealing with the real thing is something entirely different. Now, you must work to both gain his trust and help him heal.
Pairing: Gadreelxreader
Other characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Language, somewhat graphic descriptions of injuries, violence, hurt comfort, vague mentions of bad relationships, floofy floofs
Word count: 5,700+
A/N: Man, I really like this one. I often do my boy dirty, but not today!
Dean quirks an eyebrow. “Never?” he asks. You glance at him as you lean your head on the window.
“Not in the last five years, at least,” you say, gaining a whistle from him.
“Seriously?” he says, a chuckle in his throat. You shrug, offering him a stale smile. “I mean, I get not dating but –”
“Dean,” Sam cuts in, silently urging him to be quiet. “I get it Y/N, I don't date much either.”
“I don't date at all,” you say, giggling and shrugging once more.
“Not even sex?” Dean blurts, looking at you in the rearview window. His younger brother swats at his arm, and Dean recoils, an offended look on his face. “Ow, dick!”
“What is wrong with you?” Sam hisses, clamping his mouth shut when you burst out in laughter.
“No dating, no sex. It's easier that way,” you say, staring out the window. “Anyways, when the hell did you guys start babysitting angels?”
“Daddy daycare started when Sammy decided to forgive his kidnapper,” Dean grumbles. Sam shoots him a look before turning his full body to face you, twitching a smile.
“He screwed up, but Cas wanted us to give him a chance so we did.”
“If you changed your mind, let me know and we'll haul ass back to your place,” Dean says. You hum, watching as the trees whip by. Gadreel has been a hot-button topic for a while now. From letting the snake into the Garden of Eden to having a joy ride in Sam's body, he's been greatly whispered about among the few people you stay in contact with. You silently shake your head, fingers drumming against your thigh.
…
This isn't at all what you expected. All of your prior studies point to angels being of overwhelming stature and strength, grotesque in only the holiest of ways.
Instead, you're met with this.
Pale, clammy skin. Pouring sweat as he takes in shallow breaths. In his chest is a gaping wound and remnants of some sort of sigil. You can barely make out the symbols, but it's something along the lines of 'self-sacrifice'. You set down your duffle bag, eyes searching over Gadreel wildly.
“This...is the angel?” you ask, turning to Sam. He clenches his jaw, gesturing to Gadreel.
“Yeah, what's left of him,” he says. You shake your head in disbelief, kneeling to him and gently pressing your hand over his forehead. He takes short, rapid breaths through his cracked lips.
“Who did this?” you ask, raking your eyes over his form.
“He did,” Sam says. You pinch your lips together, gently pressing two fingers to the side of his neck. A pulse. You furrow your brow, tilting your head. “Castiel tried to bring him back but this is all he could manage.”
“Cas barely had enough grace to keep himself up and running,” Dean grumbles as he walks into the room with a pile of towels. He tosses a towel at you, lips pursed.
“I woulda left him where he was but –” Dean huffs, rubbing a hand over his face – “We kinda owe 'em after everything he did to make it up,” he says. You nod as you unzip your bag, eyes raking over every single tool you've acquired. Blessed wood, holy oil, and artifacts covered in Enochian scribe. You pull out a long string of prayer beads, eyes going over the Enochian lettering as you do. Popping open a vial of holy oil, you coat the beads in it, closing your eyes as you lay them on Gadreel's chest. Dean watches intently, scratching his scruff. “Whatcha doing –”
“Shh,” you say, gently rubbing the beads over his wound. “Both of you, pray to Gadreel,” you say.
“Huh?” Dean grunts, frowning and shaking his head. Sam gives you a similar look, and you roll your eyes, turning to the pair.
“Gods and deities gain power from devotion. It'd track that angels do too,” you say. Reluctantly, both men close their eyes, and you follow suit, closing your eyes and aiming your thoughts forcefully at Gadreel. You can't really think of what to pray to him for. The only thing that comes to mind is 'Please wake up'. You repeat this silently over and over, flinching as a strange tingling sensation begins creeping up your arms.
Grace! You've only heard second-hand accounts about the feeling up until now, but there's nothing else it could be.
You open your eyes, gaping at the angel. Bright white light shines out of his wound, his eyes wide open and glowing similarly. You begin to speak, being cut off by an immeasurable amount of pressure pushing at you. Almost in unison, the three of you are flung backward by an invisible force. You wheeze, arching off of the ground and holding your stomach.
“Fuck,” Dean hisses, rolling onto his hands and knees. “Sammy?” Dean calls, eyes searching around. Sam lets out a groan from somewhere just outside of the room.
“I'm good. Y/N?”
“Alive,” you wheeze, sucking in a breath as the overwhelming force returns. Quickly, you scurry out of the room, watching as Dean rushes out after you.
“What the hell did you do?” Dean snaps. You throw your hands up with a huff.
“All of my research is theoretical, how the hell would I know he'd react like that?” you retort. Sam staggers up next to you, and the elder Winchester shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Alright, nope. I knew this was a bad idea. We're done,” Dean says, cutting his hand over his throat.
“Dean it was the first try!” you say.
“And he almost killed us!” Dean says.
“It wasn't his fault!”
“Look, I'm not about to die just 'cause you wanna experiment –”
“Guys,” Sam cuts in, holding his hands out to you both. “Let's cool down for a sec alright?” You clamp your mouth shut, crossing your arms over. Dean swipes a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Dean, I get it, I do. But she wouldn't even be here if we didn't beg her to come down.”
“Exactly,” you grumble. Sam turns his attention to you, a puppy dog look on his face.
“At the same time, I don't wanna die over this. We gotta work smarter,” Sam says. You shift your weight and avoid his gaze, letting your arms drop to your sides. “Can we cool down and regroup?”
Dean darts his tongue over his lip, turning his eyes to you. “...Why's his grace doin' that?”
“Maybe he's too weak to control it,” you say, shrugging and peeking your head into the room. Dean rests a hand on your shoulder, shooting you a concerned look. “It's ok,” you say, patting his hand before walking back into the room. Immediately, the strange tingling feeling overwhelms your nerves. The contents of your duffle bag have been thrown all around the room. You bend down to grab a scroll, flinching at the sound of a soft groan. You whip around to the angel, eyes going wide as he lets out another sound. You rush to his side, and like a punch to the gut, all of the air leaves your lungs. Gadreel slowly turns his head to you, a horrified look on his face. The invisible force flings you away, your body rolling as you collide with the ground.
“Hey!” Dean yells, damn near sprinting into the room. You hold a hand up to him, shaking your head. He pauses in his tracks, worriedly glancing between you and Gadreel. Slowly, you raise to your feet, holding your hands out to Gadreel. Your steps are methodical, slow, and calculated. The angel stares up at you with a look of confusion, his fingers flexing as you approach him.
“Why..?” Gadreel's voice fades away, his body arching off of the ground with a dry, pained hiss.
“It's okay,” you say, voice a near whisper. He shakes his head, recoiling as you reach your hand to him.
“No...” he says, his body slumping and his eyes fluttering shut. The wound in his chest is beginning to change. Slowly but surely, it's healing over.
….
You pat a rag over Gadreel's head, humming under your breath. His wound has all but fully healed. It's remarkable, really, the amount of progress he's made. Then again, angels as a race were invented to be outstanding war machines. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pause your hand over Gadreel's head, pulling your phone from your pocket. Sam cooked something. Right, you should eat. You got so wrapped up in trying to bring Gadreel back that you barely realized how quickly time was moving. You resume patting Gadreel's head with the rag, pausing once more as he squints his eyes open. He blinks a few times, his shallow breaths becoming deep and slow as he adjusts to his surroundings. Finally, he turns his gaze to you, a scowl on his face. Years of mastering the English language have failed you, as you can't think of even one thing to say. Thankfully, he speaks before the silence becomes too deafening.
“What is this?” he asks, voice hoarse. Yet again, you can't think of the words to say. As the feeling of his grace begins to intensify, you squeak, holding up your hands to him.
“I'm not dangerous!” you blurt, squeezing your eyes shut and preparing for the impact. When you realize that you aren't flying across the room, you peek open an eye, being met with his skeptical face.
“Do we know each other?” he asks, frowning.
“Well, not officially. I know of you though,” you say. He clenches his jaw, closing his eyes.
“Is this why you're afraid of me?” he asks. You frown, slowly shaking your head.
“I'm not –” You tense as he raises his hand, and his eyebrows shoot up.
“You're cowering with my every move,” Gadreel says. You gesture to the air, laughing awkwardly.
“Your grace has been going a bit crazy since I got here,” you say. A knowing look crosses his face, and he closes his eyes. Slowly, the incessant tingle of his grace dissipates, and you're finally able to relax. “Have your wings been damaged?” you ask. He frowns, slowly nodding.
“You're...a hunter? Like the Winchesters?” Gadreel asks. You nod, offering a gentle smile. “I see.” He goes silent once more, his eyes batting shut and his head lulling to the side. You check your phone, sucking your teeth. Almost 1:00 am.
“I'll check on you tomorrow,” you say as you raise to your feet. He nods, eyes locked on the wall. You chew your lip, frowning. “When you fully recover...” you let your voice trail away, and he flicks his eyes to you. “Is there somewhere you can go?” you ask. He turns away from you once more, and the room falls into thick silence. Sighing, you leave the room, sulking into the kitchen and staring around. A pot of whatever Sam cooked is still on the stove. You plop down in a chair, rubbing your nape and letting your head fall forward. You look up at the sound of footsteps, cocking an eyebrow as a robe-clad Dean shuffles into the kitchen. “You look cozy,” you say through laughter. He nods at you, gesturing to himself.
“Soak it in sweetheart, this is everything you're missing out on,” he coos. You burst out into laughter, nodding in agreement.
“I'm regretting my celibate life,” you say, gaining a toothy grin from him. He grabs two plates, piling rigatoni onto both before sitting down across from you and setting a plate in front of you. “I'm not really hungry,” you say, gently urging the plate away. He tssks you, pushing the plate closer to you.
“I know you're in work mode but you gotta eat,” he says, wagging his finger at you. You mock him under your breath, picking up the fork and stabbing it into the pasta. “So...question.”
“Ok –” you take a bite of the rigatoni, letting out a pleased noise – “I might have an answer.”
“You're smart, you're pretty – hell you're almost as funny as me,” Dean says, pausing to stuff his face. You cock your head, nodding. “What's with the anti-dating thing?” he asks. “And don't get any ideas, I don't wanna date I'm just curious.”
“So you expect me to believe that you always parade around in your sexiest robe?” you ask. He gives you a look of faux shock, twisting away from you.
“Don't objectify me,” he growls. You giggle at his antics, eyes locking on your plate. You ponder over his question, your smile melting away as the answers begin to flood in. “Well? Why no dating?” he asks. You hum, gently shrugging and forcing a smile.
“It's easier that way.”
–
You knock at Gadreel's door, slowly opening it as he grunts out a response. He's finally starting to walk around. Never farther than a few steps, but it's a major upgrade from his previous nearly constant supine state. He stands to his feet as you walk in, giving you a blank look as you wave. Yet another improvement, he no longer scowls at the sight of you.
“Look who's up and active,” you coo. He nods in response, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. He's wearing a pair of Sam's sweatpants and one of Dean's band tees, and his hair has begun to grow shaggy.
“I'm glad you returned safely,” he says. You smile in response, holding up your duffle bag to him. “More healing ideas?”
“I found a few things that are rumored to heal wings!” you say. He tilts his head, pulling the bag from your hands. “Maybe it can help you move around more freely,” you add. Unzipping the bag, Gadreel begins filing through the artifacts, shaking his head.
“Useless. None of it will do what you said.” He tosses the duffle to the ground, slowly lowering to the ground with a hiss. You stare at all of the items, pursing your lips.
“Oh,” you say, furrowing your brow. Gadreel stares up at you, his face softening.
“I...Don't mean to say that you aren't knowledgeable,” he says. You turn your eyes to him, resting your hands on your hips. “I just mean the rumors are leading you in the wrong direction.”
“What was I thinking?” you say, leaning down to him. He instinctively leans away from you, frowning when you brace his shoulders. “I forgot that I have you now!”
“...Excuse me?”
“No more guesswork! Gadreel –” You gently shake him – “You're the most valuable person when it comes to my research,” you say, smiling brightly. His eyes go wide, his cheeks flushing.
“I'm valuable to you?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“Of course!”
And then it happens.
After almost a week of knowing him, he gives you the first smile you've ever seen from him. Butterflies dance in your stomach, and you pull away from him, turning your eyes away as he lets out a gentle laugh – a laugh! “That makes me very happy, Y/N.”
“S-so...what are those things good for?” you ask, gesturing to your bag. Gadreel hums, opening the bag and holding up an artifact to you.
“This is good for the grooming of wings, and this is good for conditioning.” He goes on like this for each and every item, further concluding that none of these things will restore his wings to their former glory. You twist one of the artifacts between your fingers, nodding to yourself.
“Well, when you're fully healed, feel free to use these for grooming or whatever,” you say. He nods, eyes locked on you. You laugh awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. “What?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“So you can get healthy,” you say. He rolls his wrist, leaning closer to you.
“But why do you care?” he asks. You repeat his question over and over in your mind, a frown going over your face.
“Well...I originally came as a favor to Sam and Dean,” you say. Gadreel nods, flicking his eyes to the ground.
“Are you romantically involved with one of them?” he asks, face flushing red when you laugh.
“Oh god no, we're just friends,” you say. He stares at you a bit longer before silently laying on the ground and closing his eyes. “Don't feel like talking anymore?” you ask, gaining another nod. “That's ok. Can I hang out for a while?” He doesn't respond. With anyone else, you'd probably leave them be. But you've recently noticed his silence is far friendlier than his words at times, so you sit down a few feet away from him, allowing your head to lull back against the wall.
….
“NO!”
The sound of Gadreel screaming makes you flinch awake, and you stare around wide-eyed, instinctively drawing your gun. When you find that it's just the two of you, you quickly tuck away your weapon, crawling to Gadreel as he writhes in his sleep. His grace rarely goes out of control these days, but when it does, it's usually when he's sleeping. “Stop!” he pleads, arching off of the ground. You groan as the feeling of his grace wafts toward you, the force of it leaving a stinging sensation against your skin. You rub his head, shushing him.
“It's okay,” you whisper. Soon, the feeling of his grace dulls, and his writhing stops. Gadreel leans into your touch, his breaths slowing as he returns to his deep sleep.
“Everything okay?” Sam asks, poking his head into the door with his gun drawn. You look at him over your shoulder, nodding.
“Just a nightmare,” you say.
–
“He's losing his mind,” Dean grumbles. You giggle, balancing the phone against your shoulder as you pull up to the farm. “Hurry the hell up!”
“He'll be fine,” you say, scanning your eyes over the area.
“To hell with him, I'm worried about me,” he whines. “He keeps coming into my room asking why you left, it's pissing me off!”
“He's probably bored, just hang out with him,” you say, pulling your keys out of the ignition. “It's a haunting, I'll be in and out.”
“But – Come on man, you can't keep coming in here!” Dean snaps. You burst out in laughter, and Dean scoffs, shifting on the other line. “Oh, you think it's funny?”
“Talk later,” you say through laughter, hanging up your phone. Sliding out of your car, you pop your trunk, pulling out the shotgun Dean crafted for you. You can't help the smile on your face. These past four weeks have been the first time in a while that you've really felt you were part of a family. As you slam your trunk closed, you let out a yelp, eyes wide as you're met with Gadreel's blank face.
“Gad! You can't be here!” you say, gesturing to the air. “Especially like this. I can't protect both of us!”
“I was worried, you didn't speak to me today...”
“I – how did you even find me?!” you whisper.
“Dean informed me of the address,” he says. You mentally note to chew Dean out later, your hand rubbing over Gadreel's shoulder blade.
“You shouldn't be flying yet,” you say, eyeing his back. “Does it hurt? I don't feel anything misplaced.”
“No, that feels good,” he says, smiling. You blush at his words, quickly pulling your hand away from him. You point to your car, resting the shotgun on your shoulder.
“Please wait here,” you say. He slowly makes his way to the passenger side, a permanent smile on his face. “Don't do this again,” you add, trying to sound stern.
“I'll try not to. I just greatly enjoy your company,” Gadreel says.
You curse the bounce in your step, groan at the way your heart pounds in your chest, and even try to force away the smile on your face. But, no matter how you try, you can't help the reaction to his sweetness. “Focus,” you whisper to yourself as you make it into the farmhouse, gently smacking your cheek and shaking your head.
…..
The hunt went just as well as expected. A poltergeist linked to an artifact, nothing too terrible. Gadreel smiles at you as you climb into the driver's seat, clicking on his seat belt.
“I'm glad you're ok,” he says. You chuckle as you turn on the ignition.
“Why do you always greet me like that?” you ask. Gadreel ponders over your words for a moment before tilting his head.
“Because it's true,” he says. You burst out in laughter, and he smiles sweetly, closing his eyes.
“How you feeling?” you ask, pressing the back of your hand against his forehead. He goes silent, gently running his fingers down your forearm. You pull away from him, white-knuckling the steering wheel. Gadreel's smile sinks, and he bites his lip between his teeth.
“You always touch me, but you never allow me to touch you. Why?” he asks.
A red light comes, and you slow to a stop, flicking your eyes to him. “Does it bother you when I touch you? I can stop," you say.
“No. It's comforting. I just want to know why I can return the feeling to you.”
“Oh,” you begin, going back to focusing on the road as the light turns green. “It's so you don't get the wrong idea,” you say.
“About what?” he asks. You throw a hand up, glancing at him.
“About romantic things, I guess.”
“I see.” He turns his eyes away from you, raking his fingers together. You continuously glance at him, your stomach twisting as the look on his face begins to register.
“Don't get me wrong! I would absolutely date you,” you blurt. The words fly out quicker than you can catch them, and you regret it the moment they slip out. Gadreel turns to you wide-eyed, his mouth agape.
“I wasn't making romantic advances –”
“Y-yeah I know I was just saying –”
“– I would also love having you as a partner, though,” he says. You choke on your spit, sputtering and pulling over to the side of the road. Gadreel holds his hands up to you, eyes wide as you regain composure. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, I – Jesus Gad,” you breathe, leaning your head on the steering wheel and chuckling. “You can't just say things like that,” you say. Gadreel stares at you blankly, tilting his head to meet your gaze.
“Alright, I'll hold my tongue,” he says, holding a hand over his heart. “But I have a question,” he adds. You look up at him, cocking an eyebrow. “Dean mentioned that you refuse to have a romantic partner –”
“Why would he say that?!” you squeak. Gadreel chuckles, rubbing his nape.
“Because I asked if you were taken,” he says matter-of-factly. You cover your face to hide your embarrassment, shaking your head.
“God damn it, Dean.”
“So, why do you refuse to date?” he asks.
“Because it's easier that way.” The response comes out just as quickly as it usually does. Gadreel stares at you a bit harder, squinting his eyes.
“A life of solitude is easier?” he asks.
Typically, your response shuts people up. You came up with the easiest answer possible after a couple of years of constantly rejecting people. Gadreel's response, however, has left you stuck. You stutter over unformed sentences, turning your eyes away from him.
“Well...Easier than the alternative, yeah,” you say. He leans closer to you, silently urging you to continue. “I mean, it's easier than the pain of being betrayed by someone...It's easier than having to learn how to trust another person again.” Your voice is a near whisper, your heart clenching in your chest as the words pour out of you. “How the hell do you trust again after someone comes in and...destroys you? How can you look someone else in the eyes and believe a word their saying? How can you open up again after you give every piece of yourself to someone just to have them turn around and...”
Your words fade away as Gadreel's hand reach to your face. His fingers smudge away tears that you didn't know were falling. Your breath hitches, releasing a sob that was building up. He doesn't speak, only pulls you into a tight hug, resting his head on top of yours. You wrap your arms around him, fingers trembling as he rubs small circles on your back.
“I understand,” he mumbles against your head, giving you one more squeeze before pulling away. “Say no more.”
….
“Get some rest,” you say, leaning on the threshold of Gadreel's room. He looks around, gesturing to the air.
“Are you not watching over me tonight?” he asks. You shake your head, nodding toward the hall.
“Sleeping on the ground is killer. Besides, if you're stable enough to fly, I don't need to monitor you too much anymore,” you say. “Don't you wanna move to a room with a bed?” you ask. Gadreel stares around, stroking his fingers over his jaw.
“I got used to this room since this is where I recovered,” he says, eyes locking on yours. “But perhaps if I try your bed, it'd become preferable.”
You ponder his words, offering your hand to him. “Okay,” you say. You help him to his feet, quickly pulling your hand away from him when he stands. He follows you down the hall silently, and it takes you until the very moment that he steps into your room for the realization to hit you. “You...want to sleep here tonight?” you ask, whirling around to him.
“If the bed is better than the floor, then yes,” he says. You wave your hands at him, shaking your head.
“Seriously?!” you squeak, gaining a perplexed look from him. Right. What ulterior motives could an angel have? You take a deep breath, pointing at him in a warning. “Okay...We sleep back to back, no funny business,” you say. Gadreel slowly nods, his face full of confusion. By the time you're both in bed, you're laying stiffly on your side, your blanket tightly wrapped around you. Your heart feels like it's going to explode. Gadreel lays uncovered, his back barely pressed against yours. “A-are you sure you don't want any blanket?” you ask. He hums in response, looking at you over his shoulder.
“No thank you, I tend to overheat,” he says. It'd help if he wasn't fully clothed. Your eyes go wide as you realize what just crossed your mind. No. He should be clothed! You take in shuddering breaths, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “Would you like me to leave –”
“You've been on the ground this whole time, it's okay,” you say. He goes silent once more, and though you try, you can't get yourself to fall asleep. After many moments of you shifting uncomfortably, Gadreel sighs, turning to face you and wrapping an arm around you. You suck in a breath, tensing underneath his touch. “What are you doing?”
“In the early stages of my recovery, you'd comfort me through my nightmares,” he says, gently rubbing your arm. “It was the only way that I could sleep properly,” he adds. You begin to relax, taking in a deep breath as he pulls closer to you. “I'd like to be your comfort as well.”
“Gadreel...” you say, biting your lip.
“Is that ok?”
You stare ahead in the darkness, mind whirling with possibilities. Gadreel makes you feel soft.
So did the last person you gave your heart to. As did the person before that.
You force yourself to shake your head, urging yourself out of his grasp and climbing out of bed. “This was a bad idea,” you say, turning to him.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asks. You fix your mouth to say yes. You want to tell him that you didn't want to be that close to him, that the contact made you feel terrible. But if you did, you'd be lying.
“No. That's why it's a mistake,” you breathe, silently cursing your honesty. Gadreel swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and you take a step back, avoiding his gaze.
“Then what's the issue?”
“I don't want to get hurt again,” you say, shaking your head. “It's too hard for me to trust people.”
“Then allow me to help,” he says, taking another step toward you. You tense as your back collides with the wall, heart pounding in your chest as he leans in closer to you. “Please let me in,” he whispers. His emerald eyes search you wildly, fingertips brushing over your cheek as he leans in closer.
The kiss is feathery light, his eyelashes tickling your nerves as his eyes flutter shut. “Gad ...” your voice trails away as he presses another tentative kiss against your lips.
“How can you make me feel so much, beloved?” he asks, pulling back to look you in the eye. “I understand not being able to trust. I know the feeling of buckling under the burden of your memories. But I’d like a chance to prove you wrong.”
You squeeze your eyes shut tight, biting your lip between your teeth. It hurts. Opening yourself up to disappointment time and time again hurts too god damn much. Pulling him into a hug, you let out a puff of air, body melting into his embrace as he squeezes you tight. “I trust you,” you say, nuzzling against him. Gadreel gently rubs your back, pressing a kiss against the top of your head.
“I’m glad.” He pulls his shirt over his head, gesturing to the bed. “Let's get some rest,” he says. You allow him to lead you to the bed, a pleased moan escaping you as he pulls you into yet another hug. He peppers your face in kisses, and you giggle, nuzzling closer to him.
“I never thought you'd be so affectionate,” you say, giggling as he coats your skin in even more kisses.
“You've motivated this side of me.”
–
You smudge a hand over your eye, yawning as you walk into the kitchen. A small radio is blasting 80's music, and Dean sways his hips to the music, bellowing out off-key lyrics. “Mornin',” you say, grinning and sliding into a chair. Sam pages through a book, rolling his eyes.
“Dude, seriously, it's way too early,” Sam groans.
“See how he treats me?” Dean grumbles, plopping down a mound of eggs onto Sam's plate. “And I still feed your cranky ass, no respect,” he says, gaining a glare from Sam. You burst out in laughter, and both men look at you, smiles plastered across their faces.
“What?” you ask, thanking Dean as he sets a plate down in front of you. Sam shrugs, that same damn smile pressing at his dimples.
“I dunno, you just seem happier lately,” Sam says. Dean grunts in response, squinting.
“Too happy. You been getting in a bit of doctor and patient action?” he coos. You swat at him playfully, rolling your eyes.
“Cut it out,” you say. You try to sound stern, but it comes out in a far too-happy tone. Sam raises his coffee to his lips, clearing his throat.
“'Are you ready for your sponge bath Gaddy'?” Sam's voice comes out breathy and sultry. With this, both brothers are bursting out in laughter, and you cover your face, cursing yourself for the laughter that escapes.
“You're both assholes,” you hiss through laughter. As if on cue, Gadreel is walking into the kitchen, smiling at the three of you as your laughter dies down.
“Sorry, did we wake you up, man?” Dean asks. The angel shakes his head, standing at your side.
“It's a good feeling, waking up in a home full of laughter,” Gadreel says. Sam nods in agreement, turning his eyes back to his book.
“Still, maybe you should try to rest more,” you say.
“I've not been sleeping lately,” he says, grinning. You perk up at the words, clasping your hands together.
“You're almost finished healing!” you say. Gadreel chuckles, rubbing your head.
“That's thanks to you,” he says. You beam up at him, but the moment is cut short by Sam and Dean 'aww-ing' you both. You flick them off, sending them both into another laughing fit. Your smile flickers away, and you turn back to your food.
“I'll miss you idiots when I go back home,” you say, sending the room into silence.
“Meh, you'll visit,” Dean says, biting into a piece of bacon.
“And we'll visit,” Sam adds, twitching a smile. You flick your eyes up to Gadreel, and he sinks down next to you, pulling your hand into his.
“I'll always come when you call,” he says. Electricity zips up your spine, a smile spreading across your face.
“I bet he will,” Dean mutters, shielding your attacks as you playfully hit him. Gadreel bursts out in hearty laughter, gaining the attention of the room.
“Ah...so this is what it feels like,” the angel says, a wide grin plastered across his face.
“What?” Sam asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“Having a family,” Gadreel says pressing a chaste kiss against the back of your hand. This time, neither Dean nor Sam comments on the affection. Instead, they smile at you both gleefully. Dean grunts in response, nodding.
How dare you write the fluffiest fluff? My teeth are rotting! I'm blushing, and kicking my feet. I passed away, but Gad revived me. (and I adore the brotherly Winchesters' teasing oh gosh)
Characters - Dean x Reader
Summary - You can tell Dean is struggling, and one night you decide things need to change.
Word Count - 1038
Warnings - None, surprisingly.
A/N - This is part of @iwantthedean‘s Quickie Challenge where I had to write a fic with no dialogue (which can be really hard when writing more than one character) and @loveitsallineed‘s Playlist Challenge with ‘Hero’ by Skillet.
Very early on in life, you discovered the worth of actions. Words were cheap, fickle things that people spewed flippantly, but actions- actions spoke louder than words. Actions spoke of true intent, and held more meaning to you than words ever did. That’s what made your relationship with Dean so special. Dean was a man of few words who took more stock in immediate action than his brother did. Sure, he sometimes got himself into trouble leaping before looking, but he always managed to come out of it fine.
Dean never bothered to use trite words- a steady hand on your shoulder and a question in his eyes was more than enough to let you know he cared. And he did care quite deeply. Those he let himself care about were special to him and he would move mountains for them. He always had his own way of making sure you were looked after, of checking in with you. You appreciated the solidarity you found in his presence, his steadfast and kind nature more of a comfort to you than any cheap words.
Characters - Dean x Reader
Summary - Dean comes back from Purgatory a changed man, and things between he and the reader shift from friends to something more.
Word Count - 9,415 (**laughs maniacally, ripping her hair out all the while**)
Warnings - Longform NSFW Smut (chest worship, fingering, a hint of sub!Dean, definite rugburn, fluffy sex), language, protective! Dean, and Dean angst in regards to early season 8 events.
A/N - This takes place in season 8, mostly at Rufus’ old cabin. I know the cabin doesn’t have a fireplace, but we’ll pretend it’s right next to the tv. Cool? Cool. Title is taken from the Toto song of the same name. Again, thanks to everyone for being patient with me while I wrote this one. Super special thanks to @jpadjackles for helping with my plot bunnies, and @winchestersinthedrift for the lovely smut writing advice that I hope I did some justice with. Part of @curliesallovertheplace’s Celebration Challenge and @sis-tafics and @eyes-of-a-disney-princess’ Have a Hubba Bubba Birthday Writing Challenge. The prompts were “What if Dean is a cuddler?” and “The One With All The Kissing”.
(Blockquoted sections are flashbacks)
Each bump in the road has you shifting in your seat, the old chevy truck’s shit suspension making your butt numb with vibrations. You check your watch and, yep. You’re making really good time. You should be with the way you’re speeding on the blacktop, mile markers flying past.
Your phone lights up, the man consuming your idle thoughts’ face smiling up at you from the screen. Him and his stupid pretty face. It’s funny the way you could just as easily kiss said stupid face as you could punch it. And you wanted to kiss it. A lot.
You flip open your phone, “Dean?”
“Hey, you almost here?”
You fight to stifle a laugh. “Impatient much, Winchester?”
So I'll admit, I've been sitting on this ABSOLUTELY AMAZING message for a bit now. I was so floored. Sometimes I feel a bit lost in the whole spn fanfic community, wondering if what I write has any impact on anybody anymore. And then this. This right here. This made me weep. Made me feel so seen. This is why I write.
So thank you for sharing, and thank you for being so wonderful!
"Benny?" You pulled the motel room door open more widely. "What the hell are you doing here? Dean is next door," you said.
He shifted, looking nervous in a way you'd never seen him before. "I didn't come here to talk to Dean," he said. Something about the way he said it, settled heavily over you.
"Oh." It spilled out of your mouth at the same time your brain seemed to guess the meaning behind his words.
He ducked his head, fiddling with his hat in them now. "Could I come in? Or are you gonna keep me out here on the threshold all night?" he drawled, a small smile in his voice even through his nerves.
You blushed and stepped back to let him inside. "No. No, please. Come in."
You and Benny? Did he really return the feelings you'd tried so hard to pretend you didn't have? And what would your brothers have to say about you falling for a vampire? Ah, well... who cares. You shut out the night and turned to meet his bright blue eyes with a nervous smile of your own.
Think about tocuhed starved Gadreel begging for affection after a really rough hunt ughhhh
A/N: Lemme go ahead and write a drabble before I start teaching cause asghdgjhgkjjfhdgsf
Gadreel crawls above you, a look on his face of pure exhaustion. You brush a hand over his arm, eyebrows shooting up as he immediately leans into the contact. "Gad..." you let your voice trail away as his head falls down to your chest.
"Touch me," he says, hands gently creeping up your sides. "Hold me." He nuzzles into you, gently guiding your arms to wrap around his back. "Hold me tight, please," he says, voice coming out in a shuddered breath. You wrap him tight in your arms, and he damn near moans, tangling his legs with yours and pressing impossibly close. "Don't let go."
"I won't baby," you say, pressing a kiss against his forehead. He's never been the shy type, but this is new. He squeezes you tighter, a moan rumbling in his throat as you give him the same treatment.
"My light," he begins, pressing kisses along your shoulder blades. "The dawn of my day," he adds, kissing along the length of your neck. "I've missed you so, so much." You take him into a kiss, and he shudders, hands reaching to cup your face. "Every touch from you is intoxicating."
Sam looked up over the top of his laptop at his older brother’s expectant expression but said nothing.
“Anything?” Dean prodded again.
“Uhh… nothing on it yet,” Sam said, a little hesitantly.
Dean set his cup of crappy diner coffee down with a clink of porcelain. “Are you kidding me? We’ve been here for two hours. And you’ve got nothing?”
Sam wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes and seemed to be using his laptop screen almost as a shield.
“Sam…” Nothing was getting past Dean.
“I may have… gotten distracted,” Sam said.
Dean’s jaw clenched. “Distracted? By what? What is more important than this case?”
Sam awkwardly cleared his throat but he knew Dean wouldn’t give up on the topic. “Remember that mug I broke the other day at the bunker?” Dean only raised his eyebrows and grunted in acknowledgement. “It was Y/N’s favorite…”
Dean started to roll his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“I’ve been trying to find a replacement!” Sam said. “And don’t roll your eyes at me, Dean! You dragged me around to three different states so you could figure out who had the spiciest chili, all the while telling me we were looking for a cursed chef’s knife…”
Dean had to admit that Sam had a point… And there were about a hundred things Sam could have said that would have pissed him off. Anything relating to you and Dean couldn’t really be mad at Sam. In fact he felt like he should be helping it along… He sighed heavily. “Alright,” he said, getting to his feet and dropping some bills on the table for a tip. “I’m gonna go take a nap in Baby. Just wake me up when you’ve got something.”
“You know, you could just do the research while I do this,” Sam suggested.
“Hey. I’m not making fun of you right now or chewing your ass about wasting time, am I? At the moment that’s about all I can muster. Don’t push it…” Dean started to walk away, but stopped halfway to the door and returned. “Hey, Sam?”
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
blakekathryn
