I’m not going to write porn while I’m still fresh in this ship… but I’ll set some up for later. I just started writing this and I couldn’t stop. This is set before the fall of man and Eve’s sin.

Oh naked angel boys (thought you should know haha)

“Lucifer! You can’t be serious!” Gabriel sprinted after his brother, bare feet thundering across holy ground trying to reach his brother’s back.

The Morning Star pivoted on heel, cold gaze stopping his younger sibling near immediately. “I am Gabriel. Father… Choose those… Mud monkeys, over us!? We are his creation; his vessels, his servants and the disobedient brats get a shot at Paradise? I refuse to accept this. “ There was a deep snarl in his voice, booming across the heavenly plane dripping thunder unto the earth below their feet. The younger archangel shuddered, the quake of his brother’s voice resounding over his own grace.  He couldn’t stand to lose his brother, not any of them, but especially not Lucifer whom he loved near as much as Michael.  Morally, he struggled, Gabriel could still hear the stern tone of Michael ordering him to stay put, not to follow Lucifer least he be cast himself from their Father’s embrace. Yet, Gabriel never much listened… to anyone.

“Please Brother… You love our Father more than anything, surely you can understand his reasoning. Sure, they are imperfect and sloppy but… They have some sort of canon innocence about them. It’s endearing,” he pleaded, eyes dipping down to stare at Lucifer’s feet.  For journeys outside of the Heavenly host – they needed to take a vessel, Gabriel having favored his over many years and by Michael’s blessing, craving restoration of it, he had grown attached to the warm amber eyes and chocolate locks. While Lucifer had taken a liking to sandy red and dingy brown with pale eyes – a class against the conservative of Michael’s vessel.

Lucifer sneered, cracking his neck before glaring. “Innocence can be corrupted. Take a look at them – those two, what did he call them? Adam and Eve? That woman is weak in will, her curiosity pressing for more love and knowledge. How long before it gets the better of them and they falter in Father’s orders?”

The younger stiffend, unsure of his words but determined in halting this… temper tantrum. “Like you Lucifer?”

“Excuse me?”

There was no turning back now – Raphael had always told him to watch his tongue, but the messenger must speak the word of the Lord clearly so that all may hear and understand. “You heard me,” it was his turn to glare, Gabriel set his shoulders, fists balled at his sides. He loved his brother too much to allow this folly to come between them.  “You are no different from them, questioning his divine will – your arrogance and pride getting the better of you. It’s you who is faltering in our Father’s eyes, not them.”

Lucifer was upon him in a second, his vessels large fleshy hand gripping tightly against his jugular, hoisting him up higher in the sky.  The crackle and shudder of wings buffeted his body, grace rippling and shocking over their closeness.
“How dare you.”

Gabriel struggled, kicking his feet out barely, just enough to attempt to dislodge his brother yet to no avail. Lucifer wouldn’t kill him, maybe push him around some, but not to kill – not here. 

“If these things that our Father created are so wonderful, then they should pass an easy test.”

He gripped the wrist of the hand at his throat, gaining leverage. “It is not your place, Lucifer,” Gabriel coughed, his own wings rustling against the ground, scattering dust and dirt about them.

“And it is not your place to question me.”

“I question you because I love you, can’t you see that. “ He cried, clawing at the arm holding him, trying to cradle his own wings against his older brother’s.  “I don’t want you to do this just as Michael didn’t want me to come here.” The grip on his body released, plopping him to the ground with a ‘oomf’. Sharp amber eyes starred into a pale-lidded gaze, Lucifer’s jaw seemingly set in stone. “Please…”

“Then if you love me so, then you will find it in your heart to forgive me for this treason.”

“Lucifer!” Gabriel was shoved back, his wings spiraling around him, twisting, and knotting as his brother propelled him away with the sheer force of his grace.  There was an ache in his back, tiny bloodied feathers floating about his body as he gazed at the spot that his brother once was.

“I told you not to come.”

“Michael…” Gabriel sneered, liquid pinpricks darting from his eye and staining his dusty cheeks. There was a soothing touch to his back, massaging the dull thudding of his ripped wing. Michael had always been kind, always been just, but Lucifer had listened to him, understood, caressed and loved – something that could never be replaced. Cradled quite literally under wing, Gabriel felt himself pulled into Michael – stalwart arms coiling around him protectively.

“Why do you never listen?”

“Because I love him.” Love didn’t describe it, not by the far reaches of Heaven.

“We all do, Gabriel. This is not your fault.”

“I thought I could…” Michael hushed him, planting a small kiss at his temple, before nosing in his hair. Porcelain white clashed against the brown and ruddy colour of his wings, giving them a golden shine – he had always thought Michael’s wings were beautiful but they just reminded him of Lucifer’s… Black and obsidian shine, the counter to the eldest. He had never felt smaller than in his brother’s embrace but in Michael’s he just felt hollow.

Gabriel stiffened as Michael rocked him on the ground. “I’ll follow him.” His mind made up, but the weight of the arms around him no longer soothed, only crushed.

“You will do no such thing, Gabriel.”

“I need to Michael – I can’t leave him, not like this. Our Father wouldn’t want this.”

“He wanted none of this Gabriel, but to lose another son.”

Gabriel turned to face Michael, trying to shrug away only to be held fast. “Let me go Michael.”

The glare in dark eyes stopped his next retort. There was something to be feared in Michael, just as in his Morning Star – a different torrent of a storm.
“I will not lose another brother to such foolishness. Give him time, he has not fallen yet.”

‘Yet’ was the word that terrified Gabriel the most, the slick coldness of it. There Father was just but also cruel – disobedience would not be tolerated and Lucifer still had time to turn back, just a few seconds.  But with the first crackle of thunder across the newly created world, patters of rain dripping down onto the clay and bone couple – Gabriel knew that it had been set in motion.   His brother had set the standard for betrayal in the Father’s eyes; anger and rage swirled around him, Michael’s wings shielding the pair from the onslaught that quickened down Lucifer’s path to the surface.

A wail crawled through him, his vessel shaking and mewling at the loss – his grace could feel the world crack open, the shriek and filtering noise of feathers ripping and flesh sliding off.  Michael clutched him harder, burying his head in the crook of Gabriel’s neck, hiding the wetness that poured from his eyes. Never would he know the soft downy touch of his brother’s wings again, the coo of his voice, or the heated gaze of those intense eyes, the caress of his grace flooding through him like wildfire.  Gabriel’s hand gripped Michaels’ leg, clinging for dear life as he curled into the embrace, somber grace slithering around the pair as they mourned their brother.

Gabriel had never felt more alone and desolate in Paradise.

I’ll fix spelling and errors later when I finally get over to Akabetty’s place. Hope you semi-liked it.

Goddamn I write angst too much.

WARNING: NSFW!!!!!

This was kinda hard to write… I mean, it devolved into shameless Debriel smut but I didn’t feel like I did it justice because of my own personal constraint on my drabbles. Ah whatever, I’m tired.

It was the middle of the night and Sam was due back probably any hour and Dean was in a desperate place of trying to find where exactly his pants were.  He had all but stubbed each of his toes shuffling around in the darkness, to the amusement of a very naked archangel in his motel bed.

“What’s so funny,” he growled, cursing under his breath just slightly as his pinky toe caught a chair leg.

“You are, Deano. Sammyboy isn’t going to be back for a bit,” the angel patted the empty spot on the bed next to him. The angel’s face was lit by the backdrop of the moon, the rest of his form bathed in a slight glow that Dean had attributed to the shimmer of grace that poured over their skin every so often.  The hunter could trace the willowy outline of where the archangel’s wings fluttered against the bed and headboard from their activity, a slick and delicate peppering of musk stained the sheets.

Swearing to whatever god would listen, Dean gave up his hunt for clothing, padding carefully back towards the bed – sitting himself carefully down on the foot.  It wouldn’t be the first time that Sam had seen him naked – debauched maybe, but naked – no, so the matter didn’t concern him but what did rack his brain was the man currently attempting to coil himself around his very, very bare back.

“Gabe…” It was a warning. They didn’t have time, not by his standards. While a quick fuck was always up in the air, Dean hated to admit that he was a bit of sentimentalist and enjoyed foreplay nearly as much his female counterparts.

Gabriel nipped playfully at the junction of neck and shoulder, his tongue laving against the swelling bruise left there from their earlier ministrations. “What? I’m a cuddler,” he chuckled, arms slithering around the hunter’s waist to drag back to chest.  “You’re never going to tell Sam about this are you?”

“No.” Dean didn’t even attempt to twist in the grasp, knowing the angel would holdfast and keep him there until this awkward conversation was over and done with.

“You know it’s not so—“

“Bad? Terrible? Weird? Ouch!!” Gabriel sunk his teeth into the bruise, growling before letting the flesh slip from his mouth.

“Let me finish, you petulant child,” he voice broke no argument from Dean this time. “Sam knows you’re favored by angels and it’s not like he can’t admit in some sick fashion that you and I get along. Plus, I’m helping you guys, sorta. I’m making you less grumpy, for one.”

Dean huffed and lolled his head onto the smaller man’s broad shoulder. “I don’t think this is what I had in mind when I was declared “favored by angels”, probably neither did Sam.” There was a small smattering of kisses near his ear, distracting him from the idea at hand.

“What can I say, I’m a pagan traditionalist – old fashion in my charges.”

“I thought I was Cas’s charge.”

“And… I’m Castiel’s superior therefore making you both my charges. I’m just skipping the middle man.”

“Huh.” Dean leaned back further, slouching completely while his eyes followed callused hands about his stomach and hips. The lips at his ear were back, swaying him into a state of submission.  Gabriel always knew how to veer off topic, or at least stop a fight before it stopped – whereas with Cas or Sam, it always seemed to escalate to the point of throwing things.

A swipe of tongue against Dean’s ear lobe had him mewling near immediately, teeth raking over the pliant flesh. He was still over sensitized from their last tumble, something the angel learned to exploit. Gabriel pulled the skin into his mouth, suckling while his hands made devilish moves about the human’s hipbones, teasing and taunting – sending reeling shocks of grace to sizzle throughout Dean’s body.  They may not have time for each other, but Gabriel always left him with a thought to sleep on… or not sleep on.

Dean bucked and moved sinuously in the archangel’s grasp, slight whispers of moans pouring from his lips. The friction was maddening, Dean could feel Gabe’s release dripping from him as his hips shifted, legs and feet trying to find purchase on the floor or bed.  There was no use denying his need now, his anti-exhibitionist be damned.

“G-gabe… Want…” The hunter arched his back, rubbing his backside into the archangel’s lap, groaning at the slick erection pressing against him.

Gabriel let out a laugh, his mouth moving down the sweet column of Dean’s neck. “You think we have enough time, big boy?” His hips were grasped in solid hold, yanking back over the angels’ lap to grind.

“Y-yes!”

“Oh but Sammy…” Gabriel loved to tease him, to drag it out perfectly and just bask in the arousal while Dean pleaded for him, his body, and his cock.  Dean knew Gabriel wanted him squirming, moaning and calling out obscenities, sighs muffled into a pillow while his back arched into unforgiving thrusts, to submit to the pounding and the base primal marking. 

“Goddamnit it Gabe, fuck me!”  He was always compliant, body twisting to gain leverage. He didn’t care about the time, or about Sam, or anything besides the ethereal body behind him, scraping pleasure through his nervous system – overriding all his senses with it’s own concept of temple worship.

The shorter man shifted Dean’s hips, guiding him over his lap but leaving him to hover right above the cock that he desperately begged for night after night. “Sure thing, Deano… Just one thing,” he lapped a bead of sweat of the hunter’s back, purring into his shoulder blades.

Dean squirmed, growing impatient as he could feel the heat radiating between his thighs. “What!?” He snapped, trying to down thrust.

“Scream for me.”

Either way, everyone else - your drabbles are partly finished… I just can’t… what are hands, how do I use them.

This turned out more angst filled that I would have liked, bb… Sorry. This takes place the night before the big encounter with Lucifer for the gang.

“Here.” A beer plunked down in front of him, chilled and already starting to sweat. He looked up, eyeing wavy blonde hair soft brown eyes that tried so hard to look like they were meant for this line of work.  Dean knew she wasn’t, well, no more than anyone else is –just as him but her and her family had been thrown into the thick of it yet again by none other than the Winchester’s.

“Dean.”

“What Jo?” He shifted in his seat, thumbing the empty bottle, switching his gaze to the fresh one that was leaving stain marks in Bobby’s already broken down table.

She sighed heavily, he could hear it filled the room as she slid into the seat next to him. Ellen, Sam, and Bobby going over plans in the next room and where Castiel was, well, no pun intended by only God knew that one. The mood of the place had changed since the angel left, implying that they were all just walking calmly to their deaths. But Jo, miss Jo Harvelle, had the strangest air of confidence about her as if everything was going to work out okay. Dean didn’t want to accept that. Nothing ever worked out okay.

“One minute you are propositioning me, next you’re sitting alone like the ugly girl at the prom,” She stole that from Bobby probably. Proof they have all seen each other far too much in the past week. “What… I mean, I know what Cas said wasn’t exactly uplifting but Dean, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna kill the Devil.” Jo placed a hand on his forearm, rubbing her thumb against the various tiny scars she found there.  He had half a mind to jerk his arm away and the other half to return the favor of comfort.

He dropped his other bottle and snagged the full one, taking a full swig before sharply look at her. “Jo, we’re going after the Devil. The Devil – this isn’t some demon milkrun.”

“I know that I –“

“No,” he pulled at her hand on his arm, twining their fingers together ever slightly and fighting the urge to smile at her blush. “You don’t know. We could die, in fact I’m sure one of us will, fuck – maybe all of us. I can’t ask this of you but I am and I can’t afford to lose anymore people I care about.” Sweet mother Mary and Joseph, he was blubbering like a girl.

Jo’s other hand rose to caress right under his eye to swipe at the liquid pooling there. And fuck, now it seemed like he was crying – awesome night.  She had a look so tender on her face, the same look he used to get from his mother back in the good days, before all this happened.  He leaned into her palm, lips leaving the barest of whispers on her skin.  He had to make sure she would be fine, he had to make sure that one good thing came out of this, that one person he had come to love made it out.  Jo understood him, she cared for him, loved him even  - and while those feelings for her were stalwart and unwavering, it scared the living hell out of Dean. But he’d be damned if the one good thing he found in his life slipped away from him because of a stupid mistake.  He could protect her, he would protect her, just like Sammy.

Was it wrong for him to want something good in his life? Jo was good – he had thought about it. He imagined them later on in years, after his wild days had calmed down a bit… Hell, they’d just be like Bobby and Ellen if the pair ever shacked up together.  That image warmed his heart.

He would have something good in his life, something to love, something to come home to. A home, a family, something that would fill his heart that it would burst.

Devil be damned, Dean promised to make sure Jo would be the happiest woman on the planet after all of this.  Devil. Be. Damned.

And I’m going to go hold myself… Brb *sobs*

OTP…. Mind you, this takes place about thousand year before the events of Season 6. Just an fyi…

God I love Eve and any interaction I can have her in with Anna… Uh!  ♡

Eve brushed her hand across the pale cheek of the angel that stood before her, dressed in armored garb, hair tussled about her face – like the ethereal being had waged a war to find her. She probably had – a war against her children. She found them cute, the angels that is – their own holy war against the very thing their ‘Father’ created – the very thing that they were sworn to protect.

She smiled, brown eyes twinkling as she took in fiery locks and stern grey eyes. “A mother always protects her children,” she cooed, blunt nails scraping past the female vessel’s lips, catching and dragging down her chin. “Your kind is sworn to protect mine, why do you hunt me so?”

“You escaped, your creations are running amok amongst man kind. This cannot proceed any longer.” The angel growled, jerking away form the touch before holding her blade against Eve’s chest, the tip of the silver sword pressing deep over her heart. A small bead of blood dripping down mixed with a pustulent black liquid that the angels perceived to be her lifeblood for her children – yet only one childe of hers fed on that.

Eve grasped the angelic weapon in hand, her fingers closing taut around it before wrenching from the woman’s grasp. “I’m older than you,” she hissed. “Why? Do I have no cause to protect my children? From your massacre. Your Father has abandoned you again and again – why can none of your kind see past this incandescent light he has shone in your eyes?” She was never above pleading, though the Archangels be older than her – the younglings weren’t; they were fresh as babes in her eyes, cold and frightened in a storm as any other creature was.

“He has done no such thing!” The angel roared, attempting to retrieve her blade only to be stopped by a hand against her plated chest, holding her at bay and her wings clipped. This ‘Mother of All’ lived up to her reputation, stronger than anything they had encountered and only chained by her love.

Eve sighed, fingers tapping against the metal. “What is your name, Angel?”

“Anna.”

She coiled her hands at the chest plate ridge above, yanking Anna down towards her; a delightful shrill of pleasure wafted over her as the angel’s hair cascaded down from the height difference like molten rain. Eve loved the angels, dearly, but they needed to understand that with every father, there was a mother.

“Anna,” mewling, the Mother nuzzled the angel’s cheek with her own. “Let me show you a Mother’s love, it’s greater than your Father would ever give.”

Anna growled low in her throat and futilely yanked against the hold.  “And what would that be?” Eve could smell her reluctance but this creature before her had it in them, the ability to grow and learn, to push past her duty and boundaries. She could open her eyes and Eve wanted that.

“Forgiveness.”

“Our God forgives all.”

“No, he doesn’t. He only forgives the righteous and the just. A mother forgives and loves all her children,” Eve wrapped her other arm around Anna’s neck, keeping her in a tight embrace. “I can show you true forgiveness.”

“How?”

Eve pulled back just a hair, her nose tip brushing against the redhead’s. “By letting you live.” The smile that graced her face was filled with sickening adoration. “And returning to my hold as requested, provided that your kind allows the natural order to continue. There will be no fuss from me. Those are my conditions. You live and so do all my children. Let your… man hunt them but stay your hand.”

“Done. You will return with complete compliance?”

Eve tipped her head back even further; just catch a glimpse of the stern look the woman had. “Yes.”

Anna’s body went slack, yet still guarded while the Mother moved away from her, a swaying motion like water in back steps.

Eve leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss against the Angel’s lips before turning on heel to face her children’s murderers.

“I expect your kind to keep your end to the bargain. “

“And if we do not?”

“Then I will rend this world asunder and leave it a plentiful harvest for my little ones,” Eve husked, grinning ear to ear over her shoulder.

But that was over a thousand years ago and the Angels had kept their end of the deal. A mother’s love knows no bounds, no trial, and no rival. A mother’s love is devastating and encompasses all – even the love of a Father. Eve knew her time would arise again and she would once again walk from her nest of Purgatory… Because a Mother always protects her children.

Oh that was fun to write… Going to write more, yes… yes… Oh me oh my.