gabrielle peck


A/N -Okay people, there’s some latin in this for a spell that I totally made up. I used google translate (if you’re into that kinda thing, translate the spell and be amazed) and don’t think that the spell in this exists. There’s no way angels can hide their true forms, amiright? On another note, how would people feel about me posting non-reader insert-y things as well? (mainly Destiel and Sabriel one shots) And lastly, requests are totally OPEN!

Title - Wings

Pairing - Fallen Angel!Reader x Gabriel

Warnings - implied sexy times, little bit of blood, some language, kisses, latin spells 

Word Count - 917

Theme Song - “Wings” by Birdy 

Imagine being afraid to show Gabriel your wings which were injured beyond repair when you fell.

Originally posted by w-inchesterbrothers

Sunlight is creeping through the windows; illuminating and warming the car with the glow of morning.

Sleep. You’re still getting used to many aspects of human life, sleep being one of them. You’ve found that it helps to have someone like the archangel who you’re currently curled up against in the backseat of a car. He knows the human world like the back of his hand and has always been there when you need him to be, even before you fell.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Gabriel murmurs into your ear.

“Morning,” you reply with a yawn, turning your head to find yourself staring into those whiskey eyes of his. “Thanks for last night. I … I really enjoyed it.”

Gabe had conjured up a beautiful vintage car and driven you up to a hilltop. Down below was a concert, even from the distance the music was still clear. The two of you had sat on the hood of the car and listened and talked and then he’d kissed you. Not like you haven’t kissed him before, but something about it was different this time. One thing led to another and, let’s just say, the car got pretty heated.

“Thank you.” Gabriel grins, pecking a kiss to your lips. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“I suppose …” You reply.

“I know you fell, there’s no denying that, but why can’t I see your wings anymore? Or even your true form for that matter?” Gabriel runs a gentle hand along your back from one shoulder blade to the other.

You quickly avert your eyes, shifting to sit up. A part of you knew it was inevitable; that he’d begin to ask questions eventually. But with becoming human, come human emotions and unluckily for you, emotions are getting the better of you.

“Y/N …” Gabe sits up behind you, “I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just - I’m worried about you.”

You gulp. 

“I used a spell to conceal my true form from the view of anyone.” You can feel tears stinging behind your eyes and it’s all you can do to bite them back.Gabriel is silent, just staring at you with concern in his eyes.

“When I fell, I was injured very badly.” Whatever part of you that was holding back lets go and you begin to tell him everything. “I had put myself back together slightly when I found you. But I was hurt so badly that I don’t think my wings will ever look the same or be healed completely. My true form is so - so -”

The tears finally break free as you choke over the state of your once graceful body. Gabriel pulls you into an embrace, squeezing you tightly to him.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful.” He whispers, “And you know what, having battle scars shows that you’re tough, you’re strong and you’ve lived through hell. To me that’s more beautiful than anything.”

You sniff and wipe your cheeks, leaning back from Gabe, but still making sure he’s holding on to you.

“You really want to see them?” You ask, warily.

“If you’re ready to show me.” The archangel nods, sliding his hands down from your arms to take your hands in his. “Just this once. Then you can hide them again, if you want.”

You nod slowly, and let go of one of Gabriel’s hands to pick up your angel blade from your coat which is laying on the floorboard. Taking a deep breath in, you slide the blade across the palm of your hand, wincing, and then raise it to let a drop of blood drip onto your forehead.

“Revocacionem incantandi se recondens meum veram formam assim.” You recite the latin spell for reversal and your vessel begins to glow with the blue light of your grace.

You close your eyes and let the spell completely wear off. This kind of magic hid you from others, but no amount of hoodoo can hide you from your own eyes. You’d been forced to stare at your real self every time you looked in a mirror. Now it is time to let go and be free. That’s one of the other things Gabriel has taught you: free will.

“Father, Y/N, you are so beautiful.” Your eyes snap open when Gabriel speaks.

His eyes are wide and he is smiling. You turn your head just slightly to see the battle torn wings that belong to you. They aren’t nearly as thick as they used to be, but there they are, all six of your wings. Some parts seem absolutely shredded to the bone with only a few feathers left, and, where once they were completely silver and gray, smatters of crimson stain the tips of all of them. You feel another rush of tears coming on as you look at the mess of feathers, bone and blood stains, but before you realize it Gabriel’s lips collide with yours. His hand comes up to cup your face and you let yours rise up to run through his hair.

“Personally,” Gabe murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours, “I think your wings are badass and anybody who says otherwise is a grade-a douchebag.”

You let a small smile creep onto your face, as you pull him back to you, returning to that passionate kiss. Somehow, now you know that you won’t be hiding your wings. Sure they aren’t quite the same as Gabe’s full golden ones, but your wings are your own. They’re damaged and they’re battle scarred and they’re unique.  


A peck.

A small kiss on the side of the cheek, usually in greeting. Gabriel never thought much of it. Just another strange practice farm boys from Indiana indulged in. For Jack, it started so. A peck on Gabriel’s cheek. He would laugh as the older man grumbled and rubbed his cheek. He did it so often, it felt natural. Now and then he would slip up, lips brushing the corner of Gabriel’s mouth. He would taste the black coffee that the man had in the morning, smell the musty scent that was him.

Days passed, he would peck Gabriel in greeting. The older man shrugged, returning the gesture as good manners dictated. They would slap each other’s shoulders in good humour and move on.

Months passed, he would peck Gabriel after a mission. The older man pushed him aside, his skin tasted of blood and sweat. They would meet each other’s eyes, Gabriel would slap him on the side of the arm and order him to pack up.

Years passed, he would peck Gabriel when he could. The older man barely saw the young blond anymore. Strike Commander and Blackwatch leader, they stood at opposite ends of a spectrum.

A small kiss, usually in greeting. Gabriel stopped thinking of it altogether. For Jack, it was now more. As trouble piled up, as the world began to turn on him. When he wasn’t at odds with the older man, he would peck him on the cheek. Feel the rough skin on his lips and fill his senses with nothing but the other man. A peck, it was all that saved him on most nights - when the pain came, waking in cold sweat, struggling to put air in starved lungs, the feel of a noose around his neck, closing in.

Switzerland, he rose from his chair to greet Gabriel. He took the other man’s hand in his, shaking it once. Blue eyes met brown eyes. Leaning forward he pecked the sun-darkened skin. The older man pushed him away, his skin smelt heavily of cordite. They faced each other, Gabriel slapped him across the face.

Years later, Jack ran his fingers over scarred lips. Disgusted, he replaced his mask and visor. The click of clasps as they locked in place, hiding his face from the world.

Months later, Jack ran through darkened streets. Merciless, he struck down the thugs. The frightened look on the young girl’s face haunts his dreams, he must look like a monster.

Days later, Jack hid behind a shipment of flowers. Exhausted, he sank against the crate. The smell of asphodel wrapped and held him.

Blood trickled between his fingers and tainted the white flowers red. Tired hands reached up and stripped his mask away. Jack looked up to face the Reaper. The black wraith knelt, closing one clawed hand around the injured man’s neck.

Any last words?

Leaning forward, Jack pecked the white bone mask on it’s cheek. Ice and ivory, its cold seeped into his body through his lips. The Reaper raised another clawed hand. Gently, it brushed the afflicted cheek.

Weight sagged in his other hand. Gabriel watched as Jack sank into a pool of asphodel. The white flowers rose to engulf the prone man’s form, pulling him from view. From their depths rose a great pearl, crimson like the blood that had flowed from Jack. Gabriel beheld the pearl that was Jack’s soul. He reached one hand forward and snatched it back, afraid. What might he see, what might he feel of the man whom he had known - had he truly known Jack?

Asphodel, my regrets will follow you to the grave.

Gabriel did not absorb the soul, but neither did he leave.

All I want for Christmas

Happy Birthday Sabs. I hope you enjoy some Sabriel Christmas fluff. 

(Submitted by @mindyleeb)

Sam stopped believing in Santa about the same time he was told about monsters. So the first Christmas morning since Gabriel’s return and their subsequent relationship developing into more than sass filled banter, he’s a little more than wary when he wakes to find a tree with presents standing in the corner of the Bunker’s library. “What the hell?” he mutters as he makes a circuit around the tree, examining it for traps or demonic tampering.

There were two things Sam knew. One, never feed Dean onions on long road trips and two…nothing good ever happened on Christmas.

On closer examination of the tree, his brow furrowed in consternation, he notices the tree topper. An Angel of all things sat on the top branch. But not your typical white winged, androgynous caricature but a small blond haired man, wearing red shorts, a hawaiian shirt with six gold feathered wings protruding from his back.

“What the fuck?” he mutters as reaches up and plucks the figurine off the top. (Because let’s face it. Most household trees are 6ft tall so this is an easy task for a moose of his stature). He brings the doll close to his face until he’s nearly nose to nose with the thing when it grins and chirps out. “Heya Samshine. If ya wanted to feel me up, all you had to do was ask.” Now the sound Sam makes borders on a scream queen screech, but he’ll never admit it.

The little Gabriel falls to the floor with a short cry of alarm. But when he stands he’s back to his regular 5'11" height. “Merry Christmas to you too, ya big moose.” he grumps as he rubs his backside.

Sam stands there gaping at him like a fish until he shakes his head to come back to himself. “Dammit, Gabriel. What the hell were you doing as a christmas ornament?”

“Trying to get you in the spirit of the holiday?” he asks innocently. “I swear you Winchesters are the biggest wet blankets when it comes to Christmas.”

Sam huffs as he makes his way to the kitchen in search of coffee. Which he figures he’ll have to make.  “That might be because we’ve never had the best of luck with the holiday.”

Gabriel is hot on his heels with each passing moment in this Scrooge’s presence making him more determined to show him that the holiday could be a good thing. Hell, if he could convince a religious carpenter to accept his pregnant fiance as a wife, then he could convince a moose to deck the halls. “It’s time that changed then. First, we’re going to go sledding, then there will be presents, followed by food.” The angel grins as he hops up to sit on the counter to watch Sam go about his coffee making.

“Sledding? Really?” Sam doesn’t sound impressed in the least bit. In fact he sounds rather dismissive about it. “Gabe, a man in his late thirties does not need to throw himself down a hill on a piece of wood.”

“A man in his late thirties definitely should do something just like that. It keeps you young. Look at me. I’m older than creation and I still play in the snow.” he reaches out and snags Sam’s hand, pulling him to stand between his knees. Wrapping his arms around the youngest Winchester’s neck, he nuzzles his nose against the taller man’s cheek.  “Come on, Samoose. Let that inner child out to play and then we can let the big kids play later.”

Sighing he rests his hands on Gabriel’s knees as his eyes drift shut. After a few moments of silence, he gives in. “Alright, Gabe. I’ll celebrate Christmas with you.”

With a smile that could light up the night, Gabriel pecks him on the cheek “Then have a seat. I’ll make breakfast.” Sam can’t help but smile back. Doing as he’s asked, he takes a seat at the small table and watches the Archangel cook. The entire time Gabriel is dancing and singing Christmas carols with such enthusiasm that it draws Castiel and Dean to join them. While drinking his coffee, Sam looks around the kitchen and realizes that in this moment, in this place, it didn’t matter if they had presents or did any of the things other people did on Christmas. It never did. All he really needed was his family.