Have I ever told you that your blog makes me sigh in relief when I see the posts? It's like a breath of fresh air. I dunno, it's so aesthetic and natural and fulfilling. Like coffee for someone who is allergic to it. Like hot cocoa for those who can't have it. Like a root beer float for someone lactose-intolerant. (I am all of those things and can vouch for the description.)
good lord I’m gonna cry. thank you so much. It’s a cathartic experience for me. When the colors all work together and you can scroll like a gradient. It becomes my own almost…wish space.
and you’re allergic to coffee??? oh god I’m so sorry. Is it the coffee or the milk? I can’t drink a lot of milk, because it makes me feel sick and I break out, so I use a lactose free creamer or almond milk in my coffee!
In an effort to gain more support and recognition for the wonderful, beautiful ship that is Hannah x Gadreel, I give you the following AU’s:
hadreel au where gadreel is an ancient pagan god who looks after the lost children and youth of the world and hannah is a devoted follower and priestess who may or may not be adored by gadreel himself
hadreel au where gadreel and hannah were next-door neighbors and classmates growing up and gadreel used to tease hannah and pull her pigtails in class but grew up to be her best friend and helped her cut her hair when she became he
hadreel au where hannah is a math genius and gadreel is the ‘reluctant’ yet loyal intern who is secretly a math genius as well
hadreel au where hannah is running for president and gadreel is the very tired and cranky PR lead but whoops hannah is single and ready to mingle and look-ie there so is gadreel and being in charge of PR isn’t going to lower this coming scandal
hadreel au where hannah and gadreel are boyfriends and fuck with society’s gender rules their entire lives and have no plans of stopping
hadreel au where hannah and gadreel are grumpy apartment neighbors and are constantly sending complaints against each other and the manager gets so upset they plan a fake ‘meeting’ and end up just locking the two together and forcing them to actually face each other and deal with it (bonus points if the apartment manager is castiel)
hadreel au where gadreel is the sassy university librarian and hannah is the overworked professor who has no time for this thank you very much
hadreel au were hannah and gadreel are joint presidents of an executive company and everyone is simultaneously terrified of their incredible leadership and sharp decision making skills but also totally in awe of how totally in love these two idiots are and no one knows if hannah and gadreel even know about it yet
It took Gadreel all of a moment to recognize the subtle difference to Hannah’s frame. It was a strange thing to angels, dealing with vessels and how they influenced an angel’s identity. It didn’t cover much of anything, more like a transparent veil than anything else. But it was just enough of a change, like a shade of color, that Gadreel found himself blinking in surprise.
“You changed your vessel,” he stated, uncaring that it was obvious. He was surprised. The change was nice. Hannah’s grace was always pulsing and blue. Her old vessel always added a subtle hue of yellow, like the sunlight. This new vessel had a green hue, mixing with the blue grace in harmony.
“I did,” Hannah replied, looking down at their clothes. Hannah touched their chest and frowned. “I swore I never would again. Today I had to make the exception. I saw Castiel, on Earth at the gate.”
Gadreel raised his eyebrows and stepped closer.
“Are you alright?” He asked. “What do you plan to do?”
Hannah shook their head and crossed their arms. “I don’t know,” Hannah replied, honest. “Something about this vessel feels... right. From the memories here, I don’t believe there are any relatives or partners that are waiting to be reunited, and I sense no will to leave from this vessel. I might stay like this, at least for now.”
Gadreel smiled and watched as Hannah stepped closer, only a foot away. They were almost the same height now, but even still Hannah was shorter--both in grace and frame. Gadreel would have chuckled under different circumstances, knowing that they were at least close enough to share moments of humor and affection. But this moment was serious, and there was no need for it to be spoken.
He reached out his hands and touched the edges of Hannah’s arms, lingering but not forceful in the chance Hannah didn’t want physical contact. Gadreel always gave them that choice.
“What can I do for you?” Gadreel asked, knowing Hannah would see past his words for what they meant. What could he do to make the transition easier? He knew this would not be a light decision, but he and Hannah had bonded since Metatron. Much had changed, and Gadreel believed that he could be trusted even now. Whatever Hannah needed, he was willing to do.
Hannah smiled gently and placed their hand over Gadreel’s.
“I am still Hannah,” they replied. “But perhaps it would be easier to refer to me as ‘he’ while I am in this vessel. I find it... settling.”
“The Winchesters might also appreciate it,” Gadreel added. Hannah rolled his eyes and smirked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Hannah muttered. “Thank goodness not everything is about them.”
“They might disagree.”
“Let them,” Hannah chuckled. He looked up into Gadreel’s eyes and raised his free hand, cupping his cheek in a silent gesture of affection. Gadreel held back from leaning into the touch, but he knew Hannah was aware. Hannah’s thumb caressed his cheek bone before pulling away.
“We have work to do,” Hannah stated. Gadreel nodded in understanding. Back to business, as usual. But they both had the satisfaction of knowing that at least neither of them would be alone. They were partners after all.
whole coffee beans, mugs doodled on with thin tip sharpie, rocks painted every shade of green, rain on warm nights, fog in the morning, cleanliness and brogues.
god. These are so refreshing to read, each thing feels like a content sigh. I love it, thank you
Dean Drabble Day: Dean might have a crush on his professor, Cain. Dean might just daydream instead of studying and end up in his professor's office asking for help.
Silver fox hair, sparkling blue eyes, a rumbling voice that echoed across the entire room… Yeah, Dean was sunk.
He didn’t mean for it to happen, but that could be said for most things in Dean’s life. All he knew was that he walked into his history class, and one look at his professor had Dean sinking into a bottomless pool of blue. After that it was a matter of evading notice and hopelessly wishing Professor Cain Adams would notice him anyway.
“You got it bad,” Charlie teased between classes, punching his arm and winking. Dean groaned. He wished she’d slap some sense into him.
Nothing good could come from pining after his professor. He wasn’t in some shitty chick flick. He was a man, damn it. He could treat this like an adult. It wasn’t like he was a minor crushing on his high school teacher. He was in a university and could drink legally. He could do this.
Because he wasn’t an idiot, he asked his friends for advice first. Charlie was amused but helpful, even offering to create a master plan with Dean if he asked. Cas was hesitant.
“You do realize how that would look, right?” His friend asked.
Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, “but I only have a few weeks left in his class. After I move on it’s perfectly fine.”
Cas raised an eyebrow, but in the end, gave his support.
The plan was to start talking to the man more. Dean wasn’t just looking to go to bed with the man, although that was definitely something Dean spent too long fantasizing about in class. He wanted to know him. He wanted to find out what the man liked, what made him happy.
Dean never went into anything half-assed, and he certainly wouldn’t when he wanted the affection of Professor Cain Adams.
It started with help after class. Dean found reasons as often as possible to visit his professor, sitting across the desk from him as Professor Adams explained to him the different relationships of kings and founding fathers. Dean almost dared to believe Professor Adams stared at him, eyes bright and twinkling curiously whenever he thought Dean wasn’t looking. Dean noticed anyway. He held onto it fiercely.
After enough visits, Dean began talking to him more often in the hallways. He was surprised by how often he ran into the professor. He saw him every day, almost smacking into his chest on one occasion that still made Dean blush just to think about.
The professor had looked good that day. Really good. There was a certain way crimson fell across the man’s shoulders, and the way blue accented his eyes and made his hair seem even lighter. The day Dean ran into him Professor Adams wore a green vest and a slate gray jacket. There was nothing Dean wanted more than to unbutton everything and run his fingers across the other man’s chest.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Winchester?” Professor Adams had asked, eyes bright and dancing.
Dean licked his lips and smiled, hoping his anxiety didn’t show.
“Sorry,” he hurried, stepping away and hastily brushing the man’s arm where Dean had (brilliantly) crashed into him. “Are you alright?”
The man rumbled in soft laughter, nodding and bending down to pick up some fallen papers. Dean hastily joined him and helped him stack.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Professor Adams replied. “But it’s a good thing I saw you. I meant to talk to you.”
“R-Really?” Dean asked, cursing himself for stuttering. Professor Adams nodded with a small smile.
“Yes,” he said. “Meet me in my office after class, if you’re free.”
“I am,” Dean promised, standing and blushing when the professor’s fingers touched his own, taking the remainder of his papers.
“Good,” he replied. “I will see you then.”
Dean swallowed and watched the man go. His heart didn’t stop hammering for a moment.
…
In Professor Adam’s office the decor was homey and comfortable. Dean sank into the armchair across from the man’s desk, oddly feeling perfectly at peace in the room despite his nerves at being invited by Professor Adams himself.
“I’m glad you could make it, Mr. Winchester,” Professor Adams was saying, taking a seat in his chair behind the desk. Dean admired the way the light from the open window touched the man’s features. It made him look other-worldly, ageless and elegant.
Dean sighed at the beauty of it, but quickly shook himself out of it.
“Have I done something wrong, sir?”
Professor Adams smirked. He didn’t stay seated for long and soon stood, wandering around the desk until he was directly in front of Dean. He sat on the edge of the wood desk and leaned over, eyes calculating and curious. Dean swallowed and leaned back.
“Not at all,” Professor Adams replied. “Although I’ve noticed certain behaviors that I thought I might mention.”
“Behaviors?”
The professor hummed in approval.
“I’m going to ask you to be completely honest with me, Mr. Winchester.”
“Of course,” Dean rushed.
“Have you been attempting to seduce me?”
Dean felt all the blood drain from his face to his toes. Shit.
Silence reigned in the room for several moments. Professor Adams waited patiently, expectant, while Dean raced to find some kind of answer that wouldn’t ruin everything.
In the end, it was Professor Adam’s knowing gaze that cracked him. Dean gave in and sighed.
“Yes,” he replied, honest.
Professor Adams nodded slowly. “You seek to bed me.”
“No!” Dean exclaimed, but at the professor’s raised eyebrows, he faltered. “Well, yes. But I was actually trying to ask you out first.”
“Oh?” The professor looked curious. Dean nodded hard.
“Dinner,” he explained, licking his lips. “I… I think you’re beautiful, yes. But you’re confident, and you’re passionate about your work and what you believe. I admire that. I want to know you more… just not entirely related to historical studies.”
Professor Adams leaned back. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t appear angry either. His features were calm and relaxed. He was waiting.
Dean tried not to sweat. “And then, maybe,” he concluded, “I certainly wouldn’t mind sleeping with you either. Far from it… actually.”
Professor Adams nodded slowly. “Well then,” he stated, making Dean jump. “We have a situation, don’t we?”
“What?” Dean asked.
The professor shrugged and uncrossed his arms, settling his hands on either side of him. A small smile spread across his face and Dean felt his heart race.
“Dinner sounds excellent,” the professor explained. “Although I’ll have to take a raincheck. You see, people might wonder why I’m dating one of my own students. In two weeks that won’t be a problem, don’t you think?”
It was all Dean could do not to jump from his seat.
“Yes!” He exclaimed, beaming. “I can wait. It’s no problem. I’m happy to wait.”
“Not too happy, I hope,” the professor raised an eyebrow. Dean laughed and shook his head.
“Not that happy, no,” Dean replied. “But is that a promise?”
The professor chuckled. “Only if you call me Cain.”
Dean grinned and nodded. “Absolutely.”
Two weeks later Dean sat in the back of Professor Cain Adam’s car, full and happy, and lip locked with the most gorgeous teacher he’d ever had. Dean didn’t regret a thing.
