Latest Tweets:
Fic: Call Me Mr. Fix-It!
Title: Call Me Mr. Fix-It.
Fandom: Supernatural.
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel. (With a smidge of Dean/Castiel)
Rating: R
Word count: 9858
Spoilers: 7x2.
Warnings: Some bad language.
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything even remotely related to Supernatural.
Beta: Mithrel. Thanks, dear!
Notes: This was written for the Sabriel Everlasting Birthday Challenge. For Shi_mo. Have an awesome birthday!
Summary: Prompt: “S7. God resurrects Gabriel to fight the Leviathans. S/G romance ensures.” Which became a story where the leviathans are tentacle monsters, God’s back at the wheel and Gabriel realizes in hindsight that being dead for real sucks big time. Picks up just after Castiel dragged his leviathan-y ass into that lake.
Diaphanous
Diaphanous [adjective] light, delicate, translucent
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Gabriel
Rating: Um, PG, I guess? I don’t know. Everything is NC-17 and non-NC-17 to me
Genre/Type: Wing!fic. Bit of h/c, I guess.
Bright blue light from the full moon shone through the open window, bathing the room in its glow. The curtains rustled in a gentle breeze that caressed Sam’s exposed skin and cooled it except where Gabriel curled on his chest and stuck to him with drying sweat. The human drowsily dragged his fingers through flaxen hair, smiling and peering down at Gabriel through half-closed eyes when the angel hummed and nuzzled his nose against Sam’s chest.
(Source: cheekilyflirtatious)
Susurrus
Susurrus [noun] a soft murmuring or rustling sound
Rating: G
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel
Genre/Type: baby!fic (non-adoption, type (mpreg, egg!fic, etc) unclear)
Words: 749
Living life as a hunter had given Sam a rather odd sleeping schedule. He could sleep through blaring car horns, trains, or loud-mouthed drunks, but if someone tried to pick their lock he was awake immediately. His sleep schedule was deeply ingrained, and the list of oddly quiet things that woke Sam up hadn’t changed since he was a teenager, until early last week.
Soft mumbling pulled Sam gently into consciousness. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a soft light on down the hall through the open door. Rubbing his eyes, Sam pulled himself out of bed and padded to the newly decorated room. In the middle of the room, Gabriel stood with his back to Sam, rocking slightly back and forth. The angel spoke softly in a beautiful, melodic language.
(Source: cheekilyflirtatious)
A Very Winchester Easter? (SPN Fic) (sorta AU)
The Winchesters liked Easter.
It had nothing to do with indecent amounts of chocolate or pastel-colored eggs; not even “Fluffy bunnies, Samantha! You wanna name one “Snowball” and keep it in your duffel?”
No, the Winchesters liked Easter because, usually, nothing happened on Easter. Sure, Sam theorized that a few tiny, fairly insignificant pagan gods got a little juice for their batteries to last another year, but the brothers had never encountered any on their hunter radar. On the grand scheme of “things going to shit because of the fucking APOCALYPSE,” a couple of pagan gods were barely on the list. Bigger fish, you know.
Sam and Dean usually spent the week leading to Easter and that day just holed up in some shitty motel. Dean, never one to pass up another go at rotting his teeth, would get himself a bag of small chocolate eggs and a box of marshmallow Peeps while Sam would do something girly, like laundry, or some shit. They had an unspoken agreement to not go looking for a hunt during Holy Week; it was just asking for trouble.
Well, more trouble.
That’s how the Winchesters usually spent Easter. But that was before the freaking angels.
“Dean.” Castiel is abruptly standing in the corner of the motel room, near the window, which has heavy, ugly green curtains. He flicks a wrist towards the shades and the fabric parts with a sswwsshh and blinding morning light.
“Ughh, piss off, Cas.” The large bundle of sheets on the left bed draws into itself, further away from the window. An answering groan sounds from the other bed. Sam’s shaggy mop of hair disappears under the blankets. “Go ‘way.”
Castiel’s mild expression doesn’t change. With another flick, Dean’s blankets are on the floor. Dean shoots up with a yelp. “What the hell, Cas?!”
“Today is a very important holiday,” Castiel says, seriously. “And several beings of lesser importance will endeavor to strip Easter of its sanctity for unholy gain.”
“Is this about the pagans?” Sam speaks up tiredly, “Cuz if it is, just let them be; Jesus, they’re not doing any serious harm.” Dean makes an intelligible noise of agreement, flopping back down on the mattress.
From where Sam’s half-sitting up in bed, hair still everywhere and mussed with sleep, Castiel seems to straighten minutely, square his shoulders and tuck his chin down, as if expecting a physical fight to break out. A sudden chills breaks out on Sam’s neck. Sometimes he forgets that quiet, small Cas is really Castiel, an immense, incomprehensible being whose mere existence is literally blinding. But before Sam can even begin to formulate an adequately apologetic response, there is an almighty CRACK! that wakes both Winchesters up for good. A storm of confetti promptly drowns the room in pastel strips of paper.
“Who’s up for some egg-dyeing!”
Sam groans and lies back down with a thump, throwing an arm over his eyes. Dean, on the other hand, swears colorfully, goes for his handgun, and squeezes off five shots in the general direction of the cheery shout.
The bullets turn into jellybeans on their way to Gabriel’s mouth.
“Tut, tut, Dean-o! Think of the neighbors!” the second angel reprimands, grinning. Castiel turns to his brother with a frown. “Cas! As much a Debbie-Downer as ever, eh?”
“Gabriel,” Castiel says gravely. “Assist me in rousing the Winchesters for Easter.”
“Interesting word choice,” the Archangel laughs, musingly. “I’ll let you get Dean up, if you know what I mean. He’s your chucklehead charge, not mine. I’m lucky I got the smart Winchester.”
“Fuck you,” Dean says, but there’s no real heat in it. Sam feels Gabriel bounce on the foot of his bed. “Up and at ‘em, Sammy.”
“Gabe, tell Cas that he’s disturbing our DAY OFF,” Sam tries to stress from under his arm. “You should know, best of all, that there’s no point in going after the tiniest sect of pagans on a day like this. The majority of the worship is, shocker, going to the Christian powers that be. The pagan birth and fertility gods are getting barely any devotion these days. It’s not worth it, man.”
Sam’s arm is lifted from his face. Gabriel smiles down at him. He seems different. “Oh, see, I get that, kiddo. Like you said, no one knows better than me. But I’m God’s Messenger, Sammy, and I am the one to announce when the party’s started!”
Sam glances over at Castiel, who looks like Gabriel’s just popped his life raft. “Celebration feast day, Cas! My pagan ways are behind me, and I say let’s party like Cana!”
That’s it. Sam peers at Gabriel again. He’s definitely glowing, just a tiny bit. He turns. So is Castiel. It’s Easter. Of course. Dean notices too, just a few seconds behind his brother. “Dude. Cas. Are you leveling up?”
“I… don’t unders-“
“Yes,” Gabriel interrupts. Six golden-brown wings explode of nowhere, clap Castiel around the shoulders and disappear again before Castiel can even stumble. “Little Bro here will be all powered up by the end of the day. Good thing, too.”
Dean breaks into a wide smile as his angel guardian sits heavily on his bed, off balance from an Archangel form of a hearty back slap. Dean slings an arm around Castiel’s thin shoulders.
“Cana, huh?” Dean says. “You wanna refresh our memory?”
Gabriel lights up like a freaking Christmas tree. Golden light spills into the room like food coloring in a glass of water. Sam grins and lets the light wash over him. Gabriel stands as Sam swings his long legs out of bed.
“Would I ever!”
A snap, and the Winchesters and their angels are gone, leaving only a flutter of confetti behind.
cliff-edge of your affections(1/2)
Thanks so much to nileflood for the prompt!
cliff-edge of your affections (freefalling never looked so good)
“They’re golden, Dean. Like, not hazel or anything. Seriously, golden.”
“Mm.”
“You’re not listening,” Sam says, exasperated.
“No, I’m listening,” Dean says through a mouthful of burger.
“Whatever, just…what’s up with you?” Sam asks, dismissing the topic because he’s obsessing, he knows he’s obsessing but seriously- golden.
Author: mia6363 (text)
Reader: rhaiwk
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel
Length: 49:07
Summary: The night Gabriel sat down across from him, Sam had been looking for life’s answers in a stained napkin.
April 7, 2012
susurrus || [noun] || a soft murmuring or rustling sound
~
The last thing Sam expected was a small angel on his doorstep. A little baby boy with pure white wings and a tuft of brown hair and eyes like molten gold, settled softly in blankets in a basket on the doorstep outside the motel room. There was only one explanation for this.
Meanwhile, in the Music Room, a Sabriel Fanfiction
More from my High School AU! I think if I have time tomorrow, I’ll write up my little headcanons. For now, I give you: when Gabriel met Sammy.
“Fuckin’ stupid ass dick bag brothers…”
Gabriel was in a bad mood, to say the least. He had a burning desire to just destroy something. There was one snare drum in particular that he had his eye on that he would’ve loved to kick into the wall. It was sitting in the corner just laughing at his pain. Hell, if he didn’t have as much respect for musical instruments as he did, the music room would’ve been destroyed by now.
Gabriel stormed over to the offending instrument. “Shut your face, you stupid cheeky-” He stopped in his tracks. “Drum… I’m yelling at a fucking drum…”
Gabriel groaned. It had been a long day. Still was. Michael and Lucifer were at it. Again. Weren’t twins supposed to get along? And Raphael wasn’t helping. In fact, he was doing nothing about it, as usual. It’s like he wanted them to fight. Well fuck you Raphael, you’re adopted, Gabriel thought bitterly.
Shortbus
Oh, I just couldn’t resist.
Synopsis: Gabriel thinks he is just that bit too short.
Gabriel didn’t often take notice of his height, even though he was quite small. He didn’t really notice it, with all that raw power tied up inside his little vessel. He only ever really felt small standing next to Sam, who was now doubling as his lover as well as his co-work. Well, co-apocalypse-averter would be a more apt title, but try saying that three times fast.
Gabriel had come up with many cunning plans to best Sam in the height department and all of them had failed. Levitation took a lot of work to maintain and he couldn’t do it when they were “going civilian”. You’d be surprised at how many people ran and screamed when they saw a man (or at least a man-shaped being) levitating in the candy aisle. Expanding his vessel, which Sam likened to dragging the corner of an image in Microsoft Word, made Gabriel look strangely out of proportion, his shoulders too wide of his legs and his torso too big for everything else. The stiletto heels were hard to walk in, even with his angelic powers, and, if the looks that sleazy guy outside the diner was giving him were anything to go by, they made him look like a hooker. So Gabriel had reached a standstill. He decided to do whatever he did whenever he felt down – he went to a circus. He was munching on some cotton candy when a shining light approached him.
It was on stilts.
He bought a pair and zapped himself right outside Sam’s motel. He made sure he had his balance, then rapped on the top of the door, the lowest point he could reach.
Sam opened the door to see a significantly taller Gabriel than the one he was used to.
‘Oh. Hello.’ Sam greeted him. ‘You’re… tall.’
‘They’re stilts, Sam!’ Gabriel exclaimed in excitement. ‘They’re tall and perfectly acceptable to wear in public!’
Sam frowned up at Gabriel. ‘Well, yes, there’s that but…’
‘But what?’ Gabriel asked, a little upset that Sam didn’t think his latest plan was utterly flawless.
‘But I can’t kiss you if up there.’ Sam said simply, and Gabriel thought that may be the most convincing argument he had ever heard.
Suddenly the stilts had disappeared and Gabriel was at his normal level. Sam bent down and his lips met Gabriel’s and it was perfect, just the way he liked it.
Okay, so maybe there were some upsides to be short afterall.
(Source: mishacollins-tongue)
“Babysitting”; domestic!Sabriel drabble
My girl was watching a scary movie and she asked me to tell her something pretty and cute to take her mind off of it. I think she meant something like, “You’re beautiful and I love you” but that just didn’t cut it for me. She’s got a thing for babies (especially Bobby John from 6x02) and domestic fics, so I texted her this. Yeah. Texted. At 160 characters a pop. Let it be said that I am nothing but a dedicated, loving, doting girlfriend. Figured I’d post this for Sabriel Week, even though I’m a little late. :3
“Uncle Sammy! Uncle Sammy!” came the tiny voice and Sam spun around from where he was seated at his desk just in time to catch little Mary as she hopped onto his lap.
“Hey there, Munchkin. How can I help ya?” he asked cheerily, shifting her on his lap like Santa Claus.
“Bobby John’s being mean to me!” she wailed and Sam frowned.
“Is he now? What’s Bobby John doing?”
“He was pulling at my curls!”
Sam put on his best sympathetic look and smoothed down Mary’s said curls, bright and corkscrewed. “Well, Munchkin, Bobby John’s your big brother. Big brothers often tease their little siblings.”
Mary sniffed, bottom lip sticking out. “Really?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of her dress.
“Really,” Sam nodded wisely.
“Does Daddy ever tease you? He’s your big brother…”
Sam had to laugh. “Of course he teases me! He teases me all the time! But I’ll tell you a secret,” he added, lowering his voice to a whisper. “A little sibling secret that only little siblings like you and me can know.”
Mary’s big blue eyes widened like saucers and she leaned in, eager to learn this divine knowledge of younger siblingtude.
Susurrus
Synopsis: Sam keeps hearing something, glimpsing it out of the corner of his eye, and it’s driving him mad.
Sometimes, when Sam and Gabriel are watching television, Sam hears a rustling noise. Just a little whisper, to his left, like fabric brushing against fabric, but he hadn’t felt Gabriel move.
‘What was that?’ Sam asks, turning to the smaller figure tucked into his side.
‘Didn’t hear anything, Samsquatch.’ Gabriel replies and goes back to watching the film.
(Source: mishacollins-tongue)
Gabriel comes back into Sam’s life without any bravado. Instead, he appears with the quiet whisper of wings, materializing in Sam’s motel room one day with a quick gasp and shocked glance around the room. Before the angel can say anything, he doubles over and sinks to his knees, and Sam is on his feet before he even fully registers the situation. While Dean grabs a shotgun and a vile of holy water, Sam darts to the archangel’s side like he knows nothing about hunting or possession, like he hasn’t been skirting the line between PTSD and complete insanity for the past several months. Dean snaps at him to get back, but Sam barely hears him, staring into shocked golden eyes and knowing - without the tests, without the interrogation - that this is Gabriel, the same Gabriel who turned his life upside down in the best and worst kind of ways so many years ago, before Hell, before Purgatory, before Castiel’s fall from every kind of grace. Even the smell of him is out of place in the personal post-apocalyptic world that is Sam’s mind. Sugar and ozone - sweetness and angels; there’s no place for either in Sam’s fractured life. And yet he’s here, staring at Sam with all the unbridled emotion they’d always hid behind teasing and snark, and once again everything turns on its head.
“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Gabriel tells him, and Sam wants to tell him to shut up, to call him ‘Sammy’ or ‘kiddo,’ make a smart comment about his pretty hair, and tell him to get over his little pity party. But he doesn’t, not at first. He’s different, too.
Gabriel’s sorry because he pushed Sam into Lucifer. He’s sorry because he made Sam live through Dean’s murder a hundred times over. He’s sorry because there’s nothing he can do to fix Sam’s head. He tries to be sorry that he isn’t one of the more powerful archangels, one that might have the juice to help, but Sam doesn’t let him finish that thought.
Dean complains that Gabriel’s only complicating things, that all he’s ever done is complicate things and push them towards their unavoidable fates, and maybe it’s true, but despite the spinning and the loss of control, Sam finally begins to feel alive again. There are nights when Sam feels like he’s drowning and Gabriel takes him away and holds him steady, slowly breathing his sanity back into him. When Gabriel kisses him, he offers Sam the first choice he’s had since he fell into the pit, and Sam grabs onto it like a lifeline. Gabriel isn’t Lucifer, Gabriel isn’t his destiny, but Sam doesn’t care. Gabriel saw all of him during the time in which Sam was afraid no one would ever even try to look, and Sam chooses him. He’s terrified, so scared to make the same bad decisions over again, to fall for some kind of trick, but all he can see in Gabriel is an affection (he doesn’t dare call it more) that’s unconditional.
Sam chooses that.
It’s not good yet. Maybe it won’t be good. There are days when even Gabriel can’t handle the torture Sam went through at his brother’s hands and Sam feels like he might not ever stop spinning, caught up in the game of the higher powers. But Lucifer is quieter these days and Sam would rather spin than fall. There’s a quiet whisper of hope in the back of his mind, somehow louder than Lucifer and Sam’s self-hatred, and it sounds a lot like wings.
susurrus. noun. a quiet whisper or murmuring.
My Fic: Stupid Fucking DVD (Gabriel/Sam, Gabriel/Business President)
Happy Sabriel Week 2012! After Dean goes to sleep, Sam watches the rest of Casa Erotica, and… well, he should really learn to stop being surprised when Gabriel surprises him. Preview:
Did they miss something?
Sam can’t stop thinking about it. The question stays with him all day - clings as they get back in the car, holds on tenaciously through the drive across state lines, bounces after him into their latest wood-paneled motel room and flops down next to him as he tries to sleep. He’s exhausted, so he tells himself that Gabriel knew what he was doing, that he planned that stunt down to the dumb voiceovers, that he wouldn’t risk the whole world on how much porn the Winchesters are willing to watch. Gabe told them everything they needed at the beginning. Of course he did.
A Midnight Serenade
I just want to dedicate this to all my wonderful new followers.
There were several things Sam expected to hear at night: the wind whistling outside, dogs barking, his dad watching TV downstairs.
A cheery trumpet tune was not one of those things.
Sam got up from his desk and opened his window. There was Gabriel Milton – band geek, class clown, and shameless flirt – playing his trumpet vigorously. When Sam poked his head out, Gabriel didn’t stop. He pointed his instrument up to Sam on the second floor and continued with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Is that Short Shorts?” Sam called down.
Gabriel paused. “I couldn’t think of anything else!” he yelled back with a grin. Sam rolled his eyes. He didn’t even want to know why Gabriel knew how to play that song.
“What are you doing here, Gabe?”
“I’m being romantic and stuff!” Gabriel puckered his lips against the mouthpiece of his trumpet and started on another song.
“Romantic?” Was Gabriel going to… ask him out?
The two of them met a few months ago. It was during lunch break at school. Sam had been trying to find a room to practice during for the upcoming Debate Team competition. He thought he’d found refuge from the bustle of the school in the music room. Instead, he’d found Gabriel practicing his music.
They’d hit it off, and it wasn’t long before their lunch-time meet-ups were the best part of the day. It took even less time for Sam to realize he had a little crush on the older boy.
Little did he know, Gabriel had a little crush on him as well. He’d been planning this nighttime serenade for weeks. Despite all of his bravado at school, it had actually taken Gabriel forever to build up the courage to do this.
And now Gabriel was on Sam’s front lawn, playing his rendition of Toxic by Britney Spears. Sam leaned on the windowsill, a big goofy smile on his face.
“What the hell is going on?” a deep voice boomed from the front door. Gabriel jumped, the note he was playing sputtering weakly from the trumpet.
“Dad!” Sam was inches from falling from the window, trying to get a look at his father, who was standing under the porch light wearing a robe and a confused expression.
“Mr. Winchester!” Gabriel said with a smile, recovering from his initial shock. “Great timing!”
“What?” John was lost. He’d obviously been sleeping, and his brain was taking a little time to catch up. He stalked over to Gabriel, vaguely wondering if he needed to fetch his shotgun.
“Well, as you can see, I’m out here romancing your youngest son.” John narrowed his eyes. Shotgun, definitely.
“Is that what that racket was?” The eldest Winchester towered over Gabriel menacingly, but the high schooler stood his ground, huge smile still plastered on his face.
“Yep. You see, I think Sam’s great, and I would love to have him as my girlfriend.” A wad paper bounced off Gabriel’s head from above. He looked up at Sam, who’d thrown it. “Okay, I’ll be the girlfriend if you want!” he laughed.
With another roll of his eyes, Sam backed out from the window. He was going down before his dad did anything drastic.
“Anyways, Mr. Winchester, what I’m trying to say is that it’d be kind of awesome if I could maybe get your blessing…” so maybe you won’t kill me, Gabriel added in his mind. Yeah, he was trying to exude confidence right now, but damn, Sam’s dad was kind of scary.
“So, you like my son.” Gabriel nodded. “You want to make him happy.” Another nod. “And you know that if you do anything to hurt him, I will brain you with that horn.” Gabriel actually gulped.
“U-uh, wouldn’t killing a minor be bad for your reputation?” Gabriel’s voice wavered a bit.
“Not if no one finds out,” John answered darkly. The look on his face was a little terrifying, but the corners of his mouth were twitching up into a small smile.
A huge grin spread across Gabriel’s face and he started laughing. “I like you!” he chuckled. John smiled back and stuck out his hand. Gabriel shook it firmly. Well, that went better than planned.
“You’re not dead!” Gabriel saw Sam emerging from the house. He almost looked surprised that his dad didn’t tear Gabriel apart. He walked over to the two.
“I’m glad you think of me so highly,” John grumbled, moving out of Sam’s way. He turned back to go inside. “I’ll make you guys some snacks or something. And, uh, tone it down on the trumpet a bit?”
“Yes sir!” Gabriel did a mock salute as the front door shut. He turned to Sam. “So, whaddya say? Be my boyfriend, maybe?” He fiddled with his trumpet, almost shyly.
Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Gabriel. “Of course.” And they both headed inside, together.
And look! A bonus picture! No actual Sabriel in it, but I just had to draw Papa Winchester sizing Gabe up.
Also, I have a bit more planned for this High School au. I’ve got a little fic and another pic on the way.
Is this what being productive feels like?
A Short Exercise in Practical Jokes
This is a retroactive April Fool’s fic. How it begins is how it shall end and all that, right? To fill the prompt ‘Sam and Gabriel tell Dean about their relationship’.
Synopsis: Sam is about to tell Dean about him and Gabriel and he is nervous beyond belief.
‘You do know that I’m impervious to shotgun bullets, right?’ Gabriel asks from his position at the foot of the bed. ‘Now, don’t tear your hair out. I need something to hold onto.’ He says and winks suggestively.
Sam pulls on his socks with a little more force than necessary. ‘Yeah, well, I’m not impervious to bullets, am I?’ he bites back peevishly.
‘No, Sammy, you aren’t, but given this messed up, psychotic-’
‘Irrational, erotic codependence. Yes, I know, Zachariah beat you to it.’ Sam finishes. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’
Gabriel laughs in disbelief. ‘Erotic? Zachariah, you kinky bastard!’
Sam glares at his angel-boyfriend. ‘I’m glad I’m so amusing to you, but can we get back to the bit where my brother is going to kill me?’ Sam grumbles, resisting the urge to throw his shoe at the wall. If he did, then his brother would think he was being attacked and run into the room, ruining the point of all the bitching he is currently directing at Gabriel.
(Source: mishacollins-tongue)
