#dragon! reader

Is an overprotective, delusional, kuudere yandere of a man

He would keep thinking about you, wondering why you stuck in his mind

Next time he sees you is when you're being chased out by a village of cookies, armed with weapons and torches

This allows him to do the mental gymnatistics of "he's being chased out for being different -> he's like the cakes -> I am helping making a better world for cakes -> I protect the cakes -> because he is like the cakes I need to protect him too -> protecting him means I love him -> if i am his protector that means he will love me back -> him loving me back means we can live happliy ever after with the cake hounds"

His loyal cake hounds now spy on you for him in return for more love and treats

Thinks you're like his cake hounds in a "the cake hounds/reader are cute beings who deserve the world but can't fight for themselves" way

He is full prepared for you to fight him on this front but you don't

The day he shows up ready to kidnap you to his place, he is surprised that you just pack your treasures into bags and go with him

Your habits of giving him small treasures is something he likes but he doesn't like you being out of sight from him

When he's off doing his tasks you are guarded by a small army of cake hounds

Enjoys your willingness after a long while

Doesn't know that this kind of behavior is normal for you to get from other dragons

Only lets you treasure hunt when he's with you

Gets you your own cake hound friend

Your calmness about the situation fuels his delusions

After all, to turn into something imaginary you first had to take pieces of things that already existed and then mold them into what was once pure imagination until it was something all its own.

Whenever you transformed, the world changed. Your thoughts, your perceptions—all of it was different. Especially words. They always meant more than one thing because they just could.

Your mother wasn’t just your mother, she was all of these smells mixed together that made her unique. She was motherloveunderstandinghomesafety.

And your father wasn’t just your father, he was lovingfatherhomeprotection. He smelled like dreams.

And you were you. You were one with the air and the forest was yoursyoursyours and your friends were funnylovingstronggood and you should protectkeepsafesave.

When you were young, you saw nothing wrong with the way you thought or how sometimes the voles in the field looked appetizing and it would just be so easy to dig them out and bite into their throats until they went limp.

That is, until you almost lost yourself to the beast at the age of seven and nearly tore a robber’s arm off because he smelled of dangerironbadhurtothers and he was not allowed to trespass on what was yoursyoursyours.

The man dressed in black let out a blood-curdling scream, his fiery red eyes widening with such intense fear that his pupils contracted to mere pinpoints. His right arm, now slick with a vibrant crimson coating, was clutched tightly against his chest. Meanwhile, his other hand frantically scrabbled across the wooden floorboards, desperately seeking the broken knife that lay just out of reach. The rich, dark liquid pooled around him, seeping into the porous wood grain with an almost eager intensity.

You stood there, your draconic features set in a perplexed pout. Your muzzle, now stained a deep, dark burgundy, glistened in the dim light. The concept of his terror eluded you completely. After all, in your mind, he was unequivocally the antagonist - the villain of this scenario.

Your young mind conjured images from the television shows you'd watched. Villains were supposed to be larger than life characters, cackling maniacally as they boasted about their latest nefarious schemes. They were meant to be relentless in their pursuit of evil, determined to the very end. They certainly weren't supposed to cower and whimper like the pathetic human before you. In your limited understanding, villains simply did not experience fear.

Curiosity piqued, you took a deliberate step forward. Your razor-sharp claws sank into the viscous pool of blood with a squelch. The sound seemed to trigger something primal in the man, for he let out an even louder scream, his entire body now wracked with violent tremors.

Suddenly, the tense silence was shattered by the crisp sound of breaking porcelain. In a last-ditch effort of self-preservation, the burglar had seized your father's prized vase and hurled it in your direction. The delicate object smashed against the floor, scattering shards across the room as the man desperately pushed himself further against the living room wall. A trail of crimson followed his movements, painting a macabre path across the floor.

Undeterred, you continued your approach. In your childlike innocence, you chastised him for potentially staining the rug your mother had so recently cleaned. You even expressed concern about your father's reaction to the broken vase upon their return from their dinner date, which you expected at any moment.

"G-G-GET A-W-WAY! S-STAY BACK!" The red-eyed man's voice rose to a feverish pitch, the volume causing you to wince in discomfort. The disconnect between your perception and reality widened further. In your mind, you were simply engaging in conversation. The fact that your words emerged as menacing growls and snarls completely escaped your young, dragon-shaped consciousness.

To him, you weren’t speaking Japanese. All the man could hear was your angry growls and snarls as you encroached on him like a leopard stalking it’s prey. His eyes darted around frantically, searching for an escape.

The washing room had a door connected to the outside…if he could get past you then he would make it out of here with his life!

You took another step forward, blood squelching underneath you as you prowled towards him.

All of the man’s thoughts of escape died immediately. The you were no bigger than a Doberman, yet had teeth and claws sharper than knives. Also, you had wings. Wings. He couldn’t outrun a monster with wings!

The man waved the broken knife around your face, making you lean back. Mama always said that knives were dangerous and not to be played with.

But you were a dragon. Knives could not hurt you. Let’s end this before mothersafetylove and fatherprotectionhome get back.

Yes. That was a good idea! Beat the villain up just like the heroes on TV! That will teach him not to mess with your family!

Just like the heroes on TV. Don’t let him get away.

You wouldn’t let him get away! This robber was going down!

Once and for all.

You crouched low to the blood soaked floor, tail swaying behind you as you prepared to jump. You’d leap onto the man’s head and knock him unconscious in one fell swoop!

More than unconscious.

You’d be a hero!

You would always be a dragon.

You would always protect what is only yoursyoursyours.

No matter what it takes.

The man looked at you, teary eyes wide with a fear ingrained in all living beings: the knowledge that death was near. The brownish-black hair peeking out of his mask was sticky with dried blood. “I-I-I SAID STAY BACK!” he shrieked, dropping the shattered knife as he quaked.

You ignored the terrified man’s wail, ready to lunge at him when there was a click.

The front door opened, revealing your parents.

You stopped in place. The man let out a relieved sob.

Mama let out a choked gasp, her outfit stained as she rushed to pick you up and hold you away from the bloodied and sobbing burglar. Her eyes were so wide they resembled saucers, she never let her gaze leave you. She turned your head this way and that, trembling at the sight of blood that wasn’t yours while looking for injuries. You had none.

Papa already had a phone to his ear, voice hoarse as he called for heroes. It wouldn’t be long before sirens started to wail outside of your house as heroes took over the scene.

As you looked between your parents, you noticed something. They didn’t let you out of their sight. Never looking at the villain who broke in. Not even once.

You looked up at them, scales dried with a man’s blood while pressed against Mama’s favorite outfit, and saw the distrust in their eyes. The fear. Both directed at you.

For the first time since you got your quirk, you realized that maybe being a dragon wasn’t as cool as you thought.

You lowered your bloody head in shame, cowering against your mother for even a sliver of reassurance. You didn’t know what you did wrong, but you knew you probably did something bad.

You were a hero….right?

Letting the dragon do whatever made people scared, you had realized at a mere seven years of age. Humanity had looked at you funny when you once talked about how fun it might be to chase down foxes in the fields or attack pigeons sleeping on rooftops because all it wanted to do was funplaydowhatevereatplayplayplay.

You realized the looks now. You would never be able to forget them. So, you vowed to never transform again. Not if you could help it.

It hurt not being able shift. The other children at school always thought you were awesome and cool and a thousand other things when you were large and scaly and you. You were a child and nothing really mattered more than who wanted to play with you, what you were having for lunch, and apparently the most important factor— what your quirk was.

Who you were allowed to play with depended on how cool the other first graders thought your quirk was, because the quirkless were boring and weak. At least, that’s when everyone else said. You didn’t think quirks mattered very much. It didn’t matter what they looked like or what their quirk was, to you, if a classmate was a jerk—they were simply that. A big jerky jerk. It was totally not related to their smell connecting to their personality whatsoever. No—you are imagining things.

Your popularity had dwindled slightly when you refused to carry the other kids in your class around on your back during recess, but you didn’t care. You tried not to care, at least.

It was for the greater good, your little seven year old mind had repeated when you sat with a smaller group of friends at lunch than you had before.

You still cried about it in the security of your parents car when they picked you up.

After the robber incident and the other children at school becoming too much for you, your parents decided to homeschool you. You didn’t mind this change, and they always joked that it saved the planet from a little more car emission.

It was during one fall morning that everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong for you.

Mama was in the kitchen with you, cutting both your sandwiches into hearts while you peeled the oranges. You hummed a catchy tune you once heard on the antique radio your mother often uses, blissfully unaware of the havoc about to befall you.

Mama called out your name, “Why don’t you start molding the onigiri? Then papa can take them to work!” She cooed, the frills behind her ears shifting to a soft lavender as they gently trembled.

You looked up at her with an excited nod. "Kay!" you sang happily. Then you turned, hopped off your stool, and dragged it over to the sink to wash the orange peels from under your fingernails. Just like you were taught.

As you finished washing your hands, you noticed a strange tingling sensation in your fingers. At first, you dismissed it as nothing more than the cold water's effect, but the feeling intensified. Suddenly, your vision blurred, and you felt a horrible itchy feeling starting to spread across your head in waves until it morphed into a constant pain. You cried out for your mother, tears gathering in your eyes as you kneeled to the ground in pain. The itching only intensified, and the world became a blur of color.

Faintly, like your mind had been ripped from your body and was only left with a dull sensation, you could feel your mother wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her lap.

You tried to tell her it hurt, but all that escaped your throat was a mangled sob as the pain increased tenfold. Stars exploded across your vision in a kaleidoscope of colors. Your tiny hands tugged at your head desperately, as if it would make the pain stop even for a moment. It did not. Something large and soft grabbed your hands in their own, guiding them to wrap around what you guessed were your mother’s shoulders. You held her as tightly as you could, tears streaming down your face and wailing until you lost your voice.

You both sat on the kitchen floor for what felt like ages, motionless until the pain subsided, leaving only a dull headache as a reminder. The food remained untouched, the onigiri unmolded.

Your mother brushed her hand through your hair, whispering a lullaby that lulled you into a drowsy state. As she traced her fingers along your scalp, her confusion grew. When you were hovering between sleep and wakefulness, she felt it again—her hand pausing at the sides of your head.

Small bumps had appeared on each side, barely covered by a layer of skin.

You had begun growing horns.

You were hospitalized when your tail began to grow, nearly a year after your horns started showing. The initial pain was excruciating—so severe that you were ready to knock yourself unconscious when the over-the-counter pain medication your mother had been giving you for your horn growth pains, which had started nearly a year earlier, proved ineffective.

Mama sat in the chair beside your bed, holding your small hand in hers as she waited for the doctor to return and Papa to arrive from work.

You shifted uncomfortably beneath the crisp white sheets. Just minutes ago, the kind doctors had guided you through an X-ray machine, showing you and Mama the images with reassuring smiles.

The results revealed a new bone near your lumbar vertebrae—your lower spine. A literal tail bone, they said. You were growing a tail, little by little.

Your feelings about this were mixed. On one hand—a tail! On the other, it was a tail. And it already hurt! Your horns had barely grown two inches from your head, and you'd felt like you were being split in half the day the bone broke through skin. How long would it take for your tail to grow? You were certain it would be far more painful than growing horns.

You shuddered at the thought, your hand instinctively reaching for your lower back where the new tail was said to be starting. The doctors had warned you, with words sugar-coated for a child of nine years, about the potential discomfort, but their clinical words couldn't fully capture the reality of what you were about to experience. As you lay there in the hospital bed, a mix of anticipation and dread settled in your stomach.

You gave your mother’s hand a gentle squeeze. She squeezed right back.

You would surely be able to figure something out. The doctors could help, right? Doctors saved people. So they were heroes.

Surely there was a way to save you from the pain?

Your mother comforted you through the painful process of growing horns and a tail, a process that took years of medication and hospital visits. She understood you better than anyone; her quirk allowed her to transform into dinosaurs. You'd only ever seen her shift into herbivores, and you both silently acknowledged the reason why. This unspoken understanding formed a deep bond between you—a connection that meant everything.

Your father did his best to understand. His quirk, centered around imagination rather than transformation, made it harder for him to relate. Nevertheless, he always tried to put himself in your and your mother's shoes. These attempts often resulted in comical disasters—misty, house-sized dinosaurs and dragons flying and scampering around the property like oversized mice. Despite the chaos, you could tell that he cared deeply. And that was usually enough.

By the age of thirteen, the horns had grown farther from your head and a full tail connected to your spine, reminding you of how your quirk made you different from others. You cried often as they grew, because growing bones and muscles was painful and you hated your quirk for it. You were sure you experienced pain far worse than any child your age should ever have to go through.

As you grew older, suppressing your primal instincts—the urge to hunt, play, eat, and sleep endlessly—also became easier. Your human mind developed and matured, while the beast within remained stagnant, neither growing nor learning. This internal divide between your evolving consciousness and the unchanging animal nature that was still you in a way became more pronounced with each passing year.

Now you were sixteen years old, attending one of the most prestigious hero schools in Japan : U.A.

Because maybe, just maybe, if you saved people even as a scaly or feathery beast with claws and teeth sharp enough to pierce and kill, they’d look at you and smile in awe and feel safe. A balance to those who saw how dangerous you are and feared you for it.

In the future, as you learned your friends aspirations, It seemed like a selfish reason to become a hero compared to Ochako’s or Izuku’s dreams—but it was your motivation and you couldn’t give it up easily. You wouldn’t, or more specifically, you didn’t know how.

Everything was progressing remarkably well, exceeding your expectations of your high school life. Your classmates' reactions to your quirk were nothing short of healing. As they cautiously ran their hands over your scales, each one as large as their heads, their faces lit up with genuine wonder and excitement. It was as if they were encountering a mythical creature brought to life, struggling to reconcile the reality of your transformed state with their own eyes.

Their expressions of amazement and fascination weren't just fleeting moments of curiosity; they seemed to radiate a deep, heartfelt appreciation for your unique ability. You could see it in their wide eyes, hear it in their excited whispers, and feel it in the gentle, reverent way they touched your scales. It was a validation you had long craved but never quite expected to receive so wholeheartedly.

The warmth of their acceptance enveloped you like a comforting blanket, wrapping around your very being and soothing anxieties you didn't even realize you harbored. In that moment, basking in their genuine smiles and unguarded enthusiasm, you felt a surge of emotion so powerful it nearly overwhelmed you. You knew, with unwavering certainty, that you would go to any lengths, face any challenge, to preserve those smiles and maintain that acceptance. The thought of anything encompassed a vast realm of possibilities, and you were prepared to explore every one of them if it meant keeping your classmates looking at you with that same wonder and joy.

All seemed well until you closed your eyes, nestled under the warm blanket. In that moment of vulnerability, you unwittingly lowered your guard—precisely when you needed it most.

That’s when it chose to strike.

Young Crown Prince of his Kingdom of the Golden Sun and General of the most powerful army on the continent.

Silas Creed the charming 3rd prince quiet, Cold, and Stern yet soft, and awkward. A role model to soldiers and popular bachelor to King's looking to give him their daughters and sons' hands in marriage. No matter how many times fair noble women in there sparkling gems and with their elegant dresses, to whom gentleman with kill for a chance to have look their way try to seduce and get the Prince to catch their eye. But Silas was always distant paying them no mind for their was already another he loved.

Ah yes, it was love at first sight. That day he first laid his eyes apon you. He would have mistaken you for a forest nymph if it weren't for the beautiful scales a color that caught his eye that shimmered like pearls on your body which you meticulously washed as you bathed underneath the waterfall your long slender tail splashing against the water surface as you enjoy the cool refreshing is soak and Majestic horns sturdy and a symbol of your power yet clean and sensitive judging by how your fingers and palm graze against them. And you wings a dead giveaway to who you were. Outstretched with a pleasant smile on your face the sound of the waterfall and the coolness of the water against your skin and scales how do you distract it as the Prince crept closer enamored by your beauty. Hypnotized by other attributes of your human form, a hand over his armor chest as if trying to calm the beating in his heart.

He had once heard stories tales from senior nights of his army about the the terrible yet feared and revered dragons. Revered as great creatures and some even gods if one were to encounter a dragon run and pray it does not find you...

But even so, how could a beautiful, gentle creature like you do such harm? Was a thought in his mind at first before he had armies track you down and catch you. You are not only captivating but you are powerful. Fighting your hardest against the chains and ropes that held you down. No matter how hard you flap your wings you cannot stop the hordes of humans that held you to the ground.

Like a bird in its caged there you sat.

Human tales talk about royalty being held captive by a dragon in a high tower you scoff at the irony now. Has he days out the window being held steel bars enchanted with a strange magic that won't let you break free. Your wings itch to feel the winds beneath them to grow into your bigger form and take to the skies once more.

Your eyes gaze over at bars to see your captor. Silas with a loving smile on his face. How could a man who robbed you of your freedom smile like that?

"Beloved? Are you busy? May I come in?" Silas speaks in a gentle tone. Even though there was no privacy between you and him since he is refused to give you the courtesy of walls and a proper door he still asks to come into your 'room.'

Even as you do not answer, he comes in anyway, of course, gazing at you with an unblinking stare. You could almost feel his obsession with you, making you feel as if you were naked. With his intense stare, he slowly stalks toward you. That gaze now growing soft when he stands before you, his hulking figure towering above you before getting on his knees but not before holding your hips and gently turning you, wanting no craving your attention on him, Making you look down at him as he lays his head into your lap. You could kill him. You could sink your claws into his stupid flesh and rip him apart till he stops breathing, unleashing your anger in a horrid roar.

But-.

Silas smiles, nuzzling himself against your thighs. He takes his place beside you. You keep your eyes on him. Your gaze is filled with malice yet fear, but you're looking at him, and that's all he cared about. Those deep amethyst eyes you've grown to fear look at you with such love. This is hand brushes against your cheek, going down to your neck to rub against the iron and gemstone collar faceted around your neck. His proof of his love but to you, your handcuffs, the artifact that's keeping you here, sapping away at your strength until you are but an ordinary human with dragon features. Faceted tightly around your neck since the first day he brought you to the ground.

He holds your chin leaning close to press his lips against yours. Only for you to finally react, putting your hands against Silas's cold armor and pushing him away. Which made him frown, his eyes filled with hurt, as if you've kicked him and not denied him a kiss

"This again? My darling, you hurt me by denying me of your affection; don't you see my heart aches for your touch every day? I've given you delicacies of the human world. Treasures beyond your wildest dreams, I would move mountains for you. What else can I do for you? What will it take for you to love me?!" Silas says, his voice getting more and more desperate as it shakes. As much as he wants to respect the little ounce of autonomy he has allowed you to have, your little silent treatment game was becoming tiresome. He can only take so much until he snaps.

However, you were beyond your limit. And the prince explaining his love for you, telling you that he would provide anything you could ever desire, was the one thing the final drop of water to be added to the glass picture to make it burst.

As he continues to babble the same words you've heard day in and day out. His useless cries of "i love you"'s , "i treasure you"'s and sugar-sweet words about every aspect he loves about you.

you feeling the dormant rage begin to bubble up, the frustration of not being able to fight back your sorrow of missing the blue sky you thought you could hold everything inside until the prince grew tired of keeping you as more of a pet then a suitor. The urge to claw his eyes out becoming overwhelming before bubbling over you saw watery red your emotions overflowing you-!

SMACK

You hadn't realized what you had done until you were already yelling. Your clawed hand had struck his face. Even with your strength sapped, you had enough power just to slash your claws across his cheek. Silas just froze his eyes wide with disbelief as you screamed.

"Then free me! Free me from this cage you call a castle! Free me from your suffocating hold! Do not and will not love you! I hate you!"

Something seems to have broken inside of him. From months of torture from ignoring him, not giving him your undivided love and attention, accumulating to you announcing your hatred for him.

Silas was not a patient man, being without you was like agony and only to see you rip his heart to shreds see if your heart sank with an instant regret when you saw his eyes darkening, his teeth clenched.

" I see that I have been to lenient on you-" the growls grabbing you by the throat and forcing you in for a kiss. Slip smash against yours his tongue immediately darting into your mouth forcing her mouth open as his fingers press against your cheek. Even by force tasting your mouth was everything he ever dreamed of the fluttering of his heart from his first kiss from you it's almost enough to subside his anger...

Almost.

"I do not care how much you scream and disrespect me you are not leaving this place. You will love me you will learn to love me."

" and if I have to force you, then so be it." Silas said all tone in his voice and his expression dying before he lays a hand on you instead of gently caressing your skin he grabbed you with force, greedly grabbing at you. And with his sheer overpowering strength He easily manhandle you, holding you down; eager, hungry to feel his lips against your precious skin, desperate to make you see to make you realize his love for you.

You had been feeling off for a few days now.  The guys had noticed you were being extra clingy here lately, not that they were complaining.  

You made your way into the kitchen.  A cup of tea and honey sounded fantastic right about now.  You filled the tea kettle with water, placed it on the stove and went to set at the table.  Feeling warmer than usual and slightly dizzy, you laid your head down on the cool table, closed your eyes for a brief second and stayed like that for what you thought was a few seconds.

It was the kettle whistling that brought the boys running into the kitchen.  

Dean had to step carefully however.  You were passed out in the middle of the floor - only you shifted into your dragon form.

“Y/N!  Y/N are you okay?”  Sam gently placed his hand on your forehead, and you were burning up.  

“What's wrong Sammy?”

“How do we take care of a sick dragon?”

“I'm not a doctor damn it, how would I know?”

“She’ll get through this easier in this form.  We just need to take care of her.  First we need to get that temperature down.”

“And how do we do that?”  

“We make sure she’s comfortable.  Sam, I need you to set up a sleeping pallet for Y/N.  Pillows, blankets, anything that will make it easier for her to rest.”

“I’ll get some rags and bucket of ice water.  Cas, can you move her or do we need to help?”  

“I got this.”  

The three of them worked to make sure you were comfy.  Cas found a spare hairbrush in your room and brushed your mane out.  They doted on you while you were sick and all three slept in your room, afraid of leaving you alone.   There was one morning when you woke up, and found all three of them were sleeping around you.  You yawned and curled yourself around them.  

Another week passed and you were starting to feel like yourself again.  The only downside was you had yet to shift back to your human form.  Cas was walking down one of the bunker hallways, and you were following behind him.  Dean and Sam watched as you followed behind him with a smile.  

“Do you think Y/N is okay?  I mean she hasn’t shifted back yet.  I love that she’s comfy enough around us to walk around the bunker like that but -”

“She’s following Cas around like a baby duckling.  It’s cute.”  Sam felt something nudge his side and when he looked over, he watched your eyes flash gold then back to their normal eye color.  

“You want me to brush your mane out?”  You gently nipped at his fingers and watched Sam gently smile at you.  Cas snapped his fingers and your brush landed in his hands.  “Thanks Cas.”  

“Anytime, Sam.”    

“Hey Sammy?”  Dean was drinking a cup of coffee as he watched while Sam was brushing your mane out.  He hit a snag and you jerked your head away quickly and glared at him.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”  He rubbed your side gently and continued to brush you out.  “What’s up Dean?”

“Who would say Y/N’s favorite is?  Like right at this moment.”

“I’d say it’s Cas honestly.”

--

You jerked awake in the middle of night when you heard it storming.  Blue eyes met yours as he pulled you closer.  You felt Cas’s lips brush your forehead and you rested your head on his chest.  “Y/N, are you okay?”  

“I’m fine.”  You felt him tangle his fingers in your hair and tilt your chin towards him.  He was searching for any signs that you were lying but when you tried to look away, he captured your lips and you felt your eyes widen.  Cas was never this bold.  “Okay, someone has been taking lessons from Dean.”

You quietly laughed as Sam and Dean were still asleep.  “I’d punish you for that but it’s not far from the truth.”  Sam shifted behind you and you bit back a moan.  “Looks like you’re getting punished regardless.”  You watched a smirk fall across his face as you leaned in peck him on the lips.

“I’m not the only one here angel, so what did you expect.  I’m not celibate.”  

“There is something I’m curious about Y/N.”  

“Hmm?”  You felt Cas kiss down your exposed neck and you shivered from the sensation.

“How many times do you think I can get you to come before either Sam or Dean wake up?”  You bit your lower lip and grinned.  

“I don’t know but I sure as hell want to find out.”

--

“Hey sweetheart, can you come here for a second?”  Dean was tuning baby up in the garage when you heard him call for you.  You put your hair up into a messy bun and made your way towards him.  

“What’s up buttercup?”  He chuckled and kissed your cheek lightly.  

“I was thinking about something.  How would you like to add some new pictures to your collection?”  

“New pictures - you mean of all of us?”  Your face flushed and you were excitedly jumping up and down on the balls of your feet.

“Of course.”  You watched his face and he winked at you.  “Maybe we can take some of them sans clothes.”  You nudged his shoulder with yours and let out a giggle.  

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.  I can think of one down side to that though.”  

“And that is?”

“You’d have to see Sammy naked.  I’m pretty sure out of all of us - I’m the only who would appreciate that sight!”  Dean’s eyes twinkled as you took off running.  “SAMMY!  HELP ME!”

Dean shook his head as you hid behind Sam.  “I’ll get you next time, I swear.”  He kissed your forehead and went back towards the garage.  

“Dean!  Who’s going to take those pictures though?”  

You heard a flutter of wings behind you and you were confused.  Cas was the only angel you actually knew.