#we fucking deserved a handprint healing

[lovecolibri]

I'm wearing my UV handprint Malex fic shirt today and just got angry all over again about Vlamis having to write a fic about something that was set up from the start of the show that they just refused to deliver on. Like, nearly from the start everyone was waiting for a Malex handprint healing but especially after the pod squad started having each others powers. And we got a whole storyline about a bomb to kill anyone with Manes DNA, but somehow pivited to make it about m*ria instead. We got Alex being influenced by the Lockhart Machine and rescued by Michael, but sent to Deep Sky to be scanned and fixed. We got Alex dying from alien planet radiation and possibly not making it to their wedding and we STILL fucking got shafted and had him healed off screen. Like....*screams* ANYWAY. I adore every piece of RNM/Malex Vlambase merch I own but I absolutely cannot think about the show when I wear it or shit like this happens.

#roswell nm #roswell nm by behated #malex #we fucking deserved a handprint healing #it was continually set up to happen and then just didn't because the show never ever delivered on it's potential for pretty much anything #brb gotta go scream into the woods for an hour

[sortasirius]

“Unity” and the Broken Boys

BOY Y’ALL BETTER SIT DOWN BECAUSE THIS IS AS LONG AS CAN BE AND I TOOK OFF WORK TOMORROW SO I’VE GOT TIME

This is....one of the best episodes in the show.  Yeah, in all 325 of them, this is hands down one of the best.

First of all, stan Amara for clear skin.

That silent treatment babey, right out the gate with the Angst.  Tbh Dean deserves it.

“Like I said, killing Amara, Jack dying...that’s the only way.”

“The only way.  Our one shot.  Our Last chance.  You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?”

“We don’t have to like it, alright?  But you and me, we gotta get it done.”

Amara is such a welcome energy in this whole episode.  She’s warm and understanding, whip-smart and probably more powerful than Chuck.  I love her.

Sam is a wonderful, understanding, loving dad.  I love him eternally.  He loves Jack so much, he’s trying so desperately to do what’s right for Jack but also what’s right for the world.  Jack made this choice, but he can’t live with it.  How do you support your child when their life is at stake?

“Come on man.  Blindly following orders, lying to Amara, sending her to her death. Does any of this feel right to you??”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel!  You know what?  Stay.  Stay.  Someone has to be the grown up here.”

“Yeah well someone has to keep fighting for Jack!”

“He knows what he signed up for!”

“Last I checked, we don’t give up on family.”

“Jack’s not family.”

Y’all should have heard the noise I made.  What a fucking line.

“I know how you feel about the kid, I care for him too, I do, but he’s not like you.  He’s not like Cas.  He’s just not.”

“I’m- I’m ready.”

You can see the regret, the heartbreak in Dean’s eyes.  You can see how he wants to take those words back the moment he said them, and for Jack to hear them?  It’s unthinkable.

Sam and Cas I’m just so fucking emo dude.

“Sam, you stayed behind to find another way huh?  I woulda done the same.”

AMARA

First of all, LOVE this structure.

Amara and Chuck have such a fascinating dynamic.  Rob and Emily do a great job (as they have all along) by clearly being siblings but...heightened.  You can just tell they both exude power, and the other is the only one they consider an equal.

“You and Dean had that whole weird...thing.”

“That wasn’t you writing?”

“Ugh, not that part.  Gross.”

What I took away from this is what I’ve suspected all along.  They HAVE free will, just not total free will.  Dean and Amara’s connection wasn’t Chuck, there are parts of the story he didn’t write.  Obviously, this comes into play later. 

I also have a hunch that Chuck doesn’t write romance.  I also think that in particular will come into play.

“Balance.  Something we’ve never tried before.  Creation and destruction, light and dark, brother and sister united again, but on behalf of one world, this world.  True balance.  The way it was always meant to be.  But you can’t.  You only care about your pleasure, your story.  Well, I guess that makes you the villain.”

“Villains get all the best lines.”

We see again and again this season, Chuck is irredeemable.  He doesn’t care about the angels, he doesn’t care about the world, he doesn’t care about anything.  He is a petulant toddler who has broken his toys. And when he realizes he’s trapped, he gets angry, he shouts and screams, completely at odds with Amara’s peace.

“You can’t hold me here forever.”

“I can hold you long enough.”

DEAN

Pain is the name of the game in this section homies.  Because not only are we dealing with Dean’s pain, we’re also dealing with Jack’s.  Jack says he understands why Cas and Sam mean more to Dean, but Dean clearly doesn’t, he, once again, wants to say more, but is stopped, still stopped by his fear: his fear of not beating Chuck.

Alright guys, gals, and non-binary pals.  Let’s talk about Adam and Seraphina.

Adam.  The first man.  And Seraphina.  The angel.

“My old lady.  She’s the only one who could put up with me all these years.”

Yeah okay.  Volume at 100 I get it lmao.

But also: Adam wants God dead not because he and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, but because he went after their sons.  The theme of protecting the children strikes again.

“Killing God is your plan?”

“Yeah, Billie’s been giving us a hand but Sera and me, this is our baby.”

This juxtaposed directly with Dean’s own pain at what he has to do to kill Chuck, to gain his free will: the cost of his child.

Adam’s rib.

And who else might get his ribs hurt, only to be likely healed by an angel?

It’s fine, that’s fine.  I’m fine with that.

“Jack, I don’t know how to explain it but, when I found out about Chuck, it’s like I wasn’t alive.  Not really.  You know like my whole life I’ve never been free, but like really free.  But now?  Now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life, without all this crap on our backs.  And that’s, that’s because of you.  So, I want to say, I need to say...thank you, Jack.  Thank you.”

I’m gonna have to do a separate post about just Dean in this episode, because there is so fucking much to talk about, but there are a couple of things that I think are important:  Dean realizes how wrong he was, to say what he said.  He knows that it’s not true, this is the way he’s always coped with loss, by pushing the person to be lost away, but for Jack to hear it?  He can’t stand for that.

And:

Dean has finally pushed through the barrier.  He won’t be quiet in the face of his doubts anymore.  This is a breakthrough for him, and, of course, there are more to come.

SAM

Sam and Cas, my chaos duo.

The box, the inscription, the door.

Death’s library, filled with dead reapers.

And there it is.  The Empty.

It tells Sam the plan, the plan for Billie to take God’s place.  For everything to go back to the way it’s “supposed to be.”

This has always been the game, since season 13.  This is the longest of long games.

Sam fuckin Winchester, lying his way out of a confrontation with the Empty like the legend that he is.

He comes back with a new purpose: to stop Billie’s plan, and here’s where we get to the heart of the episode and maybe the heart of the season.

“You hear that?  Dean, brought to the edge of doubt.  His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end.  And poor Sam, always gotta know everything.  Can’t leave well enough alone.  This is my ending, my real ending.”

The gun comes out, pointed at Sam.

Hmm...what did I say during 15x05?  Oh yeah, this.

And:

Dean would never survive killing Sam, but he’s willing to do anything, anything to earn his freedom.  His ending, where one brother kills the other and then kill himself.

Why, you might ask, did Sam not mention that the angels would be sent back to Heaven, why does he not mention Cas?  I’ll tell you why, or rather, Becky will.

Plus, Dean looks back at Cas IMMEDIATELY when Sam says that, when he mentions Eileen, and THAT’S the first time he hesitates.  He can’t lose Cas.  But at the same time, he’s willing to do anything to have his freedom.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, Jack’s about to blow!”

“We always have a choice!”

You know me, just sitting here thinking about choice, the ability to choose, and how that translates to their free will.

And Sam...I don’t think there will ever be characters I love as much as these.

“I don’t care if Billie gets what she wants!  I don’t man, I’d trade it all, I’d trade em all for Chuck.  In a heartbeat!”

“What about me?”

“You’d trade me?”

“Chuck has to die.  He has to!  Otherwise he’ll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can’t live like that man, I can’t live like that, I won’t!”

“I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do, but you gotta trust me.  My entire life, you’ve protected me.  From Dad, from Lucifer, from everything.  I didn’t always like it, you know?  But it’s the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever known that was true.  So please, put the gun away.  Just put it away.  We’ll figure it out, Dean, we’ll find another way, you and me.  We always do.”

Okay I feel like this is going to be one of those scenes that I cry watching for years to come.  Because fuck.  After fifteen years they finally admit that not only did Dean protect Sam from Lucifer, but he protected him from John.  John.  On a par with Lucifer.

Dean and Sam have, for so many years, sacrificed themselves for the other.  Dean’s demon deal, Sam and the trials, every season they have fought to see who can die the quickest for the other.  But this?  This is them fighting to stop the violence, to stop from killing the big bad.  This is them growing, in our eyes, in real time.  Sam has always been able to get through to Dean when no one else had a prayer, but for Dean to listen, for Dean to take his words to heart, to stop the hunt for Sam, for their family, that’s how you know they do have free will.

(Btw Chuck’s eye effect when he dusted Amara was sick as fuck but I’m emo for my boys so.)

Chuck knows it’s a loss, he knows that his story has, once again, been thwarted by the boys making their own choices.  And he’s pissed, but in his anger, we get a bomb dropped on us.

“Spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday.  You know what every other version of you did after “gripping him tight and raising him from perdition”?  They did what they were told.  But not you.  Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Also, just worth bringing up this one as well:

Every Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell.  Every one told him the same thing.  And yet, immediately, with this Cas and this Dean, something was different.  Because what has everyone seen about Cas, from the moment he met Dean?

And there’s our endgame people.  Laid out on the line.

But we ain’t done yet, fam.

We’ve talked about the handprint, but you know:

So there you have it, our prep into the “monumental” 15x18.  I have spec on that, of course, but I think a novel is long enough for this.

What to take away: Dean’s rage was always Chuck’s plan, they do have free will, their love for each other, for their family, is what will stop Chuck’s control, Death is about to come back with a vengeance, Cas’ deal is at play, and, most importantly, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a blind spot for Chuck, something he has never, not once, controlled.

#welcome to my essay lmao #supernatural #spn #spoilers #my meta #spn 15x17 #destiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #amara #chuck shurley #lilly liveblogs supernatural

[americachavez]

did cas really tell dean to kneel before their new god? did that actually happen? i thought him beating the shit out of dean in that alley was the most unrestrainedly horny thing this show had ever done ACTUALLY you know what scratch that new question: top horny moments from the cw's supernatural (2005 - 2020)

getting this ask feels like my sins of the last week have been weighed against the Trials I Have Gone Through since the premier of supernatural on the wb in september of 2005 and I’m not sure if it is a punishment or reward

some notes before we begin:

the ep with dean’s male siren was like, conceptually horny but not actually that horny because the dude was uglie. I’m sorry to this man

all you sam girls out there. I respect you but I do not respect jared padalecki who is JUST tall and has zero sex appeal. but those eps where he’s like, drinking ruby’s blood and then eating her pussy are. you know. I’ll give you that

I am ONLY UP TO SEASON 10 so fair warning this is not comprehensive but the horniness does seem to drop off sharply after the mark of cain is no longer in play lol gotta love a good demon murder tattoo plot

this is easily the most insane thing I’ve ever done, including the destiel manifesto

S1 EP12: the scene where dean gets healed by the faith healer, on his knees with a hand in his hair and looking somewhere between religious ecstasy, brain death and an orgasm. starting this list off great

S1 EP22: azazel possessing john winchester. no I will not explain further if u know u know <3

S3 EP10: dean being taunted by a dream version of himself, this is where we first got the daddy’s blunt little instrument line. still burned in my hippocampus a good 13 years later thank yew

S4 EP1: dean crawling out of his own grave covered in grave dirt. hot. the HANDPRINT. HOT. also tangent but this reveal after the s3 finale was WILD back in 2008 I hollered in my dorm room after canvassing for obama. simpler times man

S4 EP 1: cas’ intro scene. the barn. the shadow wings. the hair??? getting stabbed in the chest by the man you just pulled out of hell. getting aaaallll up in that personal space. his little eyebrow. “you don’t think you deserve to be saved.” OUTRAGEOUSLY FLAMING

S4 EP02: “I dragged you out of hell I can throw you back in.” <<< this angel tops. mark dean down as scared and horny etc

S4 EP16: this ENTIRE EPISODE but specifically the part where dean tortures alastair as some kind of foreplay and then alastair kicks his ass. carved you into a new animal. jesus.

S4 EP16: wait I forgot about the part where cas also gets his ass kicked and looks all....hm. dazed and covered in blood while he’s on his knees and about to die. yeah.

S5 EP4: I mean this entire ep is unfairly horny considering everyone is dying of a zombie plague and hasn’t showered in like, 4 years but if I had to pick one hmmm. the dean/dean interrogation scene with the panty kink yeah I know it’s not original but hm. it happened. also misha collins just being able to convey that CAS IS A FLEXIBLE SLUT with a single roll of his shoulders. who SAYS this man can’t act!!!!!

S5 EP18: the ALLEY SCENE. DEAN DOESN’T FIGHT BACK. CAS HOLDS HIM UP OFF THE GROUND AND THEN THROWS HIM ACROSS THE ALLEY. WHY DID EVERYONE THINK CAS COULDN’T TOP. you all had brainworms.

S5 EP18: when cas locks dean in the panic room to stop him from saying yes to michael and “well cas not for nothing but the last person who looked at me like that I got laid” I hate this show. wait I think the blow me cas line is in this episode too what the fuck were they on here

S6 EP5: the scene where dean gets turned into a vampire. between the old dude who I think calls dean a pretty boy (??) and soulless sam....watching??? no ******* but there were just some absolutely foul energies in that scene and I still do not understand WHAT they were thinking

S6 EP20: cas doing a double smite on two demons by slamming them to the ground and then shoving another demon back in its vessel and then smiting him in the same motion. TOP. ENERGY.

S6 EP22: season 6 is possibly cas’ horniest season because he’s like, going through angel puberty after getting his first boner for dean, but the final cas eps are. whoof. cas eats a bunch of souls and proclaims himself to be a new god in order to handle said boner, and then the season ends with cas telling them to bow down and profess their love to him, their new lord, or he will destroy them. note: the way this is framed makes it look like cas is only staring at dean while he says this, even though sam and bobby are also there. the season ends with dramatic zooms on both cas and dean’s faces respectively. this made me actively regret ditching this show after s5 lol

S8 EP??: literally EVERY SINGLE PURGATORY FLASHBACK. cas dean and benny are all purgatory hot in the “pop 10 cranberry pills and risk the UTI” kind of way but also. dean being the hot girl bottom between two tops who hate each other. I really. whew. I need to go take a shower.

S8 EP17: if I get canceled for including the crypt scene on this list I blame you bud. but dean on his knees begging a brainwashed cas to stop killing him WAS sexy. how many times has dean been on his knees in this list wait there’s another one coming up next jsldjfsldkjf

S9 EP2: abaddon getting dean on his knees (YEAH) and pulling his hair and praising him for always coming when called HELLO???? the only thing that ruins this is dean says “I can’t tell if we’re gonna fight or make out” because this is the CW and they won’t let him say fuck

S9 EP6: ah. this entire episode is Emotionally Horny but the horny horny part is when they’re in the car and dean is telling cas to unbutton his shirt and. watches. I know this was on my destiel manifesto but I need it here too

S9 EP9: cas, covered in blood, slitting another angel’s throat and eating his grace after getting tortured. that shot alone made me understand why this website was so goddamn horny for misha collins for nearly a damn decade

S9 EP11: MARK OF CAIN BABEY. cain watching dean beat up a bunch of demons as an audition for taking on the mark, while crowley also is a fucking voyeur to the whole thing. cain is also a hot silver fox with daddy energies. I said what I said

S9 EP 16: dean getting the first blade. he’s chained to a pillar and being menaced by a foppish dandy who wants to add him to his “collection” (WOW). dean then kills him with the blade and whew. murder is sexy sometimes

S9 EP21: dean being pinned against a wall by abaddon’s power, then using the mark of cain to break her hold, calling the first blade to him psychically and then killing her. god the mark of cain is hot

S9 EP23: dean waking up with the demon eyes NUT

S10 EP2: demon dean beating up that dude with the boring backstory and kicking his ass. really was a go on baby I got your flower moment because I hated that dude and I love demon dean

S10 EP3: demon dean being chained up and taunting sam about how his brother is gone, then hunting sam through the bunker. demon dean in general was VERY fun for me, someone who loves trash

S10 EP9: dean going berserk and killing a bunch of pedophile rapists/child abusers. I’m sorry I know this show is trying to preach morality at me about monsters and unnecessary murder and humanity or whatever but we blew past that like 8 SEASONS AGO. also the mark of cain is sexy

S10 EP14: the rest of this list is really gonna be mark of cain stuff isn’t it look I’m here to have fun. cain and dean’s fight. cain continuously tossing his mane of hair back and taunting dean with the picture of what he’s going to become, who he’s going to kill. dean begging cain to tell him that he can stop, and then ultimately killing him. rip daddy.

S11 EP4: again I have not watched this however. every shot of this episode is PRESTIGE TELEVISION because driving a muscle car is sexy. and especially the shot of dean all beat to hell and begging his car to start and giving her a little kiss from his fingers to her dash. ugh. masculinity.

S12 EP10: the bearded salt-and-pepper daddy look returns, only it’s an angel this time and he’s wearing a vest and shirtsleeves and he swordfights with a hot redheaded lady in a suit and an eyepatch. this show is good sometimes!!! and oh fuck lol I just realized this is the same guy who played krissy’s hot hunter dad in s7 probably the first guy who’s hotter as an angel than a hunter. huh.

S12 EP 11: dean riding larry the mechanical bull to “broomstick cowboy.” I have no idea where this factors into the ep but I have seen. the youtube clip

S13 EP23: from what I can tell s13 is way more emotionally horny than boner horny, although dean burning cas’ body was sexy. but the horniest part was dean saying yes to michael and then michael taking over and saying “thanks for the suit.” we are going to ignore the silliest fight scene in existence as well as the final shot ending on a FREEZE FRAME like a goddamn tiktok

S14: not gonna pick a specific moment because I have not watched yet!!! but michael dean is hot. idk why michael is weirdly hot and I cannot stand any iteration of lucifer on this television programme. it should be the reverse but I’m forever an older sibling stan apparently. someone who is catholic could probably explain this better.

S15 EP13: genevieve padalecki and danneel ackles fight flirting as ruby and anael I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY HELD OUT ON THIS TILL THE LAST SEASON

I know I am missing things but this is already an absolutely incomprehensible screed. I know I’m missing shit from the latter seasons but give me time I’m pacing myself

#reply tag #spn tag #literally no one read this lol this is insane #Anonymous

[angelswatchingover]

Carry On

Yes, it’s another 15x20 fix it fic because we deserved a conversation between Dean and Cas and they all deserved to live! Enjoy this much better ending and soft epilogue.  Read it on AO3

Dean is saying his last goodbye to Sam after being injured on that vampire hunt, but the story doesn't end there. Castiel will always come when Dean is in need.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean is fading quickly. It’s getting harder to keep his head up, there’s a ringing in his ears, and his vision is blurring. This is really it. What a way to go. He didn’t think this would be his last hunt, but he knows that ever since Cas, he’s been distracted and that makes for dangerous conditions even on the easiest of hunts. He thought he was starting to learn to deal with it, too.

It’s been a month since they beat Chuck and he’s only just stopped making excuses to go past Cas’ room in the bunker, standing in the doorway and staring in as if the angel will be there, sitting in his chair reading a book like usual. The hunts have been fewer, which sucks since at least they are a distraction from constantly remembering Cas being brave enough to say, “I love you,” and seeing the look of happiness on his face as that black sludge pulled him away. And he had finally stopped pulling the coat with Cas’ bloody handprint out of his closet each day and just holding it, the last thing that he had left of the angel.

He was going to try to start living, to make Cas’ sacrifice worth it. He was even getting a regular construction job to do between the occasional weekend hunts. And then this. Why the fuck didn’t he duck and grab his machete instead of charging the 400 pound linebacker vamp? He’s definitely wishing he had brought that throwing star right about now.

It doesn’t matter now, though. He can feel that this is it and at least he has had the time to tell Sam how proud of him he is and how much he loves him. Damn, he’s going to miss his baby brother so much! He hopes his heaven memory is the one with Sam and Jack and Cas in the bunker, safe and laughing over pizza and ice cold craft beer. That was the night that he and Cas were the last two awake and before he headed off to bed, he had pulled him into a hug, one that lasted a little longer than usual, the alcohol making him warm and a little uninhibited. He had kissed the crook of Cas’ neck while his face was buried there but thankfully the angel didn’t notice and that moment has lived in his mind since.

If he gets to re-live that night in heaven, well, he thinks maybe it won’t be so bad. But first he needs to make sure Sam will be OK. Damn, he hopes he calls Eileen as soon as he gets out of here and never looks back.

“Hey,” he manages out even though its getting harder to breathe. This is important. “I'm not leaving you. I'm gonna be with you... right here... every day. Every day you're out there and you're li... and you're living and you're fighting, 'cause you... you always keep fighting. You hear me? I'll be there every step. I love you so much. My baby brother. Oh, man. Well, I did not think this would be the day. But it is. It is, and that's... Man... that's okay. I need you to... I need you to promise me. I need you to... to... to tell me... that it's okay. I need you to tell me that it's okay.”

Through big wet tears, Sam struggles out, “You can-“

“Not yet,” comes a gravely and frankly angry voice from behind Sam, a voice he would recognize in the dark: Cas!

Sam’s head turns in shock and he rushes out, “Cas, oh my God, help Dean!”

Then Dean sees Cas, he’s blurry because Dean’s sight is getting fuzzy but he’d recognize that trench coat and those blue eyes full of power and fury anywhere. He brushes past Sam and takes Dean gently by the shoulders.

“Dean, I’m sorry this is going to hurt, but I must get you down to heal you.”

The moment Cas shifts him even the slightest bit, pain rips through him so sharp that he sees stars. “No, no, no, no, no. I can’t, Cas…”

“Trust me, Dean. I’ve got you. Put all of your weight on me.” Cas leans in close so their bodies are touching and Dean doesn’t have to hold himself up. His head falls forward onto Cas’ shoulder and he screams as he is quickly lifted off the rebar and brought to the ground and laid gently on the dirt floor of the barn.

“How are you-“ Dean begins but is cut off by Cas.

“I’ll answer your questions after I heal you.”

Cas cups Dean’s left cheek and he can see the glow and feel the icy cold jolt of grace pulsing into him. But its not like usual where everything heals in an instant. No, Cas has his eyes closed in concentration and is obviously straining to heal him. Dean feels slightly better, it’s actually possible to take a breath now but he knows that he isn’t healed. Everything feels wrong.

“No,” Cas shakes his head, frustrated, “this can’t be. Its not enough!” Cas growls and tries again, this time his hand on Dean’s chest, just over where the rebar would have exited.

“What’s going on?” Sam asks, sounding panicked.

“Its my grace. I don’t… I don’t have enough to heal a wound with this much damage.”

“Since when? You’ve always been able to heal everything before!”

“For a long time now, Sam. My grace has been waning.”

“You can’t let him die! What about Jack?!”

“Jack is how I got here. He is hand’s off but was willing to send me.” Cas looks around, panicked.

Dean knows he doesn’t have much more time and he puts his hand over Cas’, the one still on his chest. “It’s OK, Cas. You did your best. I can go.”

“No! You aren’t dying today, Dean Winchester. You are supposed to live a long life. You have earned it. And I gave everything for you to live.” And there are tears in Cas’ eyes again. He meets Dean’s eyes and freezes and Dean knows that look. A determined Castiel, badass angel, is an unstoppable force.

“Sam, give me a knife.” And of course Sam does immediately, trusting Cas with their lives as usual.

“I need… Dean, please hold on. I’m going to give you what’s left of my grace.”

And before Dean can protest, Cas has drawn the knife across his neck and put his hand over the cut but Dean can see the bright glow of grace piercing through his fingers. It only takes a moment for Cas to collect the stream of grace in his hand and press it into Dean’s chest, directly over his heart. Cas squeezes his eyes shut in concentration as the grace penetrates through Dean’s skin and spreads through his body, nearly instantly healing the wound in his back and insides. It feels like being dunked in an ice bath followed immediately by being wrapped in a toasty warm blanket, the sense of pure comfort and safety is palpable.

He is healed. This isn’t going to be his last day on earth. Holy shit! He’s got more time and he’s about to thank Cas when the angel collapses across his chest as Dean let’s out a grunt and closes his eyes.

Sam rushes over and grabs Dean’s face, “Dean, hey, hey, hey, hey. Are you OK? Look at me!”

“I’m OK, Sammy,” he nearly laughs. “I’m good… I’m good. What hap-”

“Cas… I think he took out his grace to heal you.”

It’s then that it starts to make sense that it feels like there’s a hundred pound weight on his chest. It’s Cas and he isn’t moving. “Help me with him, Sam,” Dean asks and tries to nudge the angel awake but he isn’t budging. Sam checks his pulse and nods to Dean and a wave of relief passes through him as he and Sam work to move Cas to the side. He is still out cold through the whole ordeal.

Dean gets to his feet, a bit wobbly and isn’t even steady yet when he finds his arms full of a crying moose. “Jesus, Dean, I thought that was it. I thought I lost you!”

“Me t- too,” Dean gets out, his voice catching as he realizes how close they came to losing each other.  And Dean finds that he can’t stop the tears that are now spilling over. “Maybe I’m getting too old and slow for this job.”

He can feel Sam laugh before he steps back a bit from the hug with his hands still on Dean’s shoulders. “We just took on 5 vampires, and one of them was the size of Gunner Lawless. Trust me, it has nothing to do with age.”

And a laugh bubbles up in Dean too. He can’t believe it. He just escaped death yet again. Maybe it is time to slow down a bit now that he doesn’t have Chuck’s plot armor anymore. But that’s a thought for later. Right now, they’ve got a barn full of headless corpses and a passed-out angel to deal with.

“What… what did Cas do?” He asks Sam as he kneels down over the angel and tries to rouse him with one hand tapping his cheek and the other his chest. But he gets nothing but a soft moan.

“I don’t know, Dean. It looked like, like he cut out his grace and shoved it into your chest. Do you think he’s still an angel?”

“Jesus, I don’t know man. I’m going to get him to the car. What do you say we just torch this whole barn and call it a night?”

“I’ll get the gasoline.”

Cas isn’t helping him at all so he has to lean down and grab an arm and a leg and fireman carry him to the car and fuck if he isn’t a lot heavier than he looks. He deposits him in the back seat and Cas’ head falls back against the seat. Dean checks that Sam isn’t watching and turns back to Cas.

“What did you do, you stupid son-of-a-bitch?” He whispers and lets himself indulge in touching the other man, gently brushing his hair off his forehead. This is the first chance he has had to actually look at Cas since he told him he loved him a few weeks ago then got sucked away by black goo. Dean didn’t think he would ever get to see him again and he’s been burying all of those feelings deep since then. But now, Cas to just turns up out of the blue and gives up his grace. Now what? He can barely think through today’s adrenaline rush, the fear, saying goodbye to Sammy, getting Cas back, and now he can’t even talk to the guy. “You better be OK, you hear me?”

“OK, let’s get out of here. That ambulance I called is going to be here any moment,” Sam says as he walks towards the Impala with an empty gas can in his hand and Dean snaps his hand back to his side. He stands up and sees orange flames licking up the sides of the barn behind him. They’ll call it in to 911 once they are far enough away and are sure the bodies are pretty well burned so the ambulance isn’t the only first responder to come.

------

On the drive back to the hotel, Sam’s pretty sure Dean is going to crash the Impala since he has spent more time looking in the rear view mirror at Cas than he has on the road. He’s quiet for a long time, but the white knuckles on the steering wheel give away that something is wrong. Not that Sam is much better. It’s been at least half an hour and he can still feel a tremble in his hands. He nearly watched Dean die… again. But this time felt different. This time felt like it. With Chuck and Billie out of the picture and Jack being hands off, he didn’t think there was anyone left to call, any power left that would help a Winchester.

He should have known even death itself couldn’t keep Castiel away when Dean is in danger.

Cas is back. His friend. His brother. And of course, Dean’s -- who knows – sometimes it feels like more than best friend. Those two have been through so much for each other and died for each other and Sam has never forgotten that Cas told him that he and Dean have a profound bond, whatever that means. Regardless, Cas did something he hadn’t seen before. It looked like he took out his own grace. Man, he hopes he’s OK. Dean doesn’t look like he’ll handle another loss well.

“OK, what the hell is going on?” Dean stage whispers, taking Sam out of his thoughts. “How the hell did he get back? I mean he said that the Empty was so powerful he was going to be stuck there forever.”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean really, how long has he even been out of there? You’d think he could at least give us a call and let us know he’s OK.”

“Yeah, I guess. But probably no cell service in heaven or wherever.”

Dean takes time out from staring at Cas to give Sam a death stare. “Dude just let us think he was gone forever. That’s not cool.”

“I wonder if he’s back for good.”

“Yeah… I wonder,” Dean answers quietly and goes back to focusing on the road.

They drive in silence for another few minutes before Sam interrupts the quiet. “Dean, that back there, in the barn… I’m… pretty shaken, you know? You almost died and I… I want us to live.”

“Not like I don’t want to live too, Sam. But I always figured I’d go out bloody.”

“But that’s just it, Dean. We don’t have to. You’ve seen what’s going on. The hunts, there are less of them. I mean, with angels and demons out of the mix, well, that was half our problems. I’m thinking… maybe we don’t have to just hunt.”

Dean looks at Sam with an expression he can’t read but after a few moments, it softens and he answers, “I was kind of thinking the same thing, actually. I mean I always want to hunt. You know, saving people, it’s… it’s what we do it’s the one thing I know I’m good at. But we know so many other hunters now and… and maybe it doesn’t need to always be us, you know?”

“Exactly! I’ve been thinking. With Eileen moving in next week and Cas back, what if we switch our focus? Like the Men of Letters, we can teach people the lore and help make hunting better and safer.” He’s actually excited about this. He was so broken after what happened to the hunters from the apocalypse world, but maybe it’s time to try again now that it’s just this universe and there are no pissed off archangels after them.

Dean huffs a laugh and smirks, “Sam, I haven’t told you yet but I applied for a job, a real one, leading a construction crew. I figured since things were getting slow I might try to live like a real person for a while. I’m not quitting hunting but yeah lets… lets live!”

Back at the hotel, they are greeted by Miracle, who immediately jumps into Dean’s arms as Dean mumbles into his fur, “Got someone for you to meet, buddy.” And once they get a still comatose Cas onto a bed with the dog curled up by his feet standing guard, Dean and Sam step outside with a couple of beers in each hand.

After a few silent sips, Sam ventures, “So… are you OK?”

Dean gives him a look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Cas is back and maybe human and you seem… I don’t know… off.”

Dean makes a face like he’s thinking really hard then gulps down the rest of his beer. Finally, after a drawn-out silence he begins, “Sam, there’s something I didn’t tell you about when Cas… when he died… before.”

“What is it?”

“When Billie was coming for me she was- she was doing something to my heart. She was killing me but Cas, he… he got me to the storeroom and he made a sigil to hold her off. But Sam, we were done for. It was only a matter of time before she got through. And Cas said some shit and that’s what made the Empty come for him.”

“What did he say, Dean?”

After a long pause where Sam thinks Dean isn’t going to answer, he finally continues, “He said he couldn’t have what he wanted but he could be happy with just saying it. Like what the fuck does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, Dean. What did he say that made him happy?”

Dean just shakes his head and rubs his eyes but not before Sam notices them filling with tears ready to spill over.

Finally, Dean turns away from him to face the parking lot, the darkness hiding the emotion on his face. “He’s so stupid, man. Like he didn’t know what he was saying. How could he? I don’t even know what he meant.”

Sam wants to ask but he knows its best to let Dean work through this and be patient as he waits for him to be ready to talk.

“He said… Cas, he said I taught him how to care and that… that he loved me.”

“Of course he loves you, Dean. You’re his best friend and we’re his family.”

Dean shakes his head certainly. “No, Sam. I… I don’t think he meant it like that.”

Oh. Oh.

“Well that… that makes sense, actually.”

Turning on hid Dean growls, “How does that make any sense?”

“Remember what Chuck said? That this Cas was the only version of himself that rebelled, that helped us, and stayed with us and basically changed the course of history? Dean, that… that takes a lot of love.”

“But he’s an angel. Like, I don’t even know if their definition of… you know… is the same as ours.”

Sam huffs a small laugh, “Cas has never been like other angels though, has he? I think he knew exactly what he was saying. The question is, what do you think about it?”

Dean drags a hand down over his face, “I don’t know, man. He’s my best friend, you know?”

“He’s one of my best friends too, but I don’t think that’s what we’re talking about, here.”

“What if.. what if I’m reading into this whole thing and he just meant that he loves us like, like family?”

Sam shrugs, “Maybe, but I’m not sure that’s really enough to change our universe and rebel against Chuck’s writings and summon the Empty. I guess you’re going to have to have a conversation with him and find out.”

“Yeah… yeah,” Dean answers, distracted. It feels like the end of the conversation so Sam turns towards the motel room to go in and check on their friend before Dean grabs his arm. “What if… what if I might feel… that… about him?”

Sam smiles at his dumb brother, “Then I’d say both of you are very lucky and found something special. We don’t get a lot of wins in this life, Dean. That’s why I never gave up on Eileen. When you find something good and real, hold onto it. And I’d say both of you have earned some happiness.”

Dean just nods his head, looking thoughtful before finally looking away and quietly answering, “Thanks, Sammy.”

It’s then that they hear a groan from inside the room and they both briefly make eye contact before rushing in. Dean, of course immediately sits on the edge of the bed trying his best not to touch Cas while Sam stands beside him seeing if their friend will rouse.

-----

When Castiel wakes up the first thing he notices is pain. He’s used to pain, but his grace always dulled the nerve endings so that all of this sensation was greatly muted. It takes him a moment to recall why his grace isn’t working and then he remembers that he used what was left of it to heal Dean. He’s human again and this time his grace isn’t just stored away in a vile in a library. No, the last of it was used up (except the small remnant that will always live with him, integrated into his vessel – no, not his vessel, his body). He concentrates for a moment to figure out where the pain is coming from and if there is any permanent damage that he needs to be concerned about.

All of his organs seem to be in working order but there is a dull ache through his entire body, like it had been thrown against a wall and all of his muscles are bruised. He realizes this is from extracting the grace out of every cell and concentrating it into one ball of cosmic energy that he drew out through his neck. He had to use every muscle in his body to focus and force the foreign grace into Dean. Dean! He lost consciousness before he saw if his friend was healed. He doesn’t even know if he is alive or dead. He immediately moves to open his eyes, to get up and find out and when he does he lets out a groan from the pain and the light shining into his eyes giving him a headache.

But within seconds he has his answer, and he feels a relief wash over him as Dean sits down next to him. Dean: alive, healthy, healed, and looking very concerned.

“Hey, hey, Cas. You with us?” He asks gently.

Castiel looks around the room quickly then back to Dean. “I… yes, I’m with you and you’re… it worked. You’re alive?” He finds his hand moving to touch Dean on its own, resting on his friend’s upper arm soliciting the slightest smile from Dean.

“Yeah, man I’m good as new. But what the hell happened back there? What did you do? Where did you even come from?”

Castiel shifts up to a sitting position, adjusts the pillows and lets himself sit back against them while something golden catches his eye, movement at the foot of the bed. He squints at the big ball of fur and asks, “Why is there a dog here?”

The dog in question walks up to Castiel and begins sniffing at him, tail wagging furiously and he cautiously reaches out and pets the animal behind it’s ears. When he looks back at Dean the man has a grin widening on his face, “Cas, meet Miracle. He’s ours and I think he likes you.”

The dog lets out a small whine and Sam answers, “And I also think he needs to go out. Guys, I’ll take him for a walk and be back shortly. Cas, I’m so glad you are back. I’ve missed you.”

He steps forward and wraps Castiel in a hug and he answers, “I’ve missed you too, Sam.” And Castiel can’t stop the smile on his face as he realizes how happy he is to see his good friend again. Sam then takes Miracle outside and leaves Dean and Castiel alone. He can’t bring himself to look into Dean’s eyes, so he sits in silence, staring at the stained brown and yellow patterned bedspread.

Dean clears his throat and begins, “Ok, man. Now I need some answers. What’s going on? How are you even here?”

“Jack. He pulled me and some of the other angels from the Empty and put the entity back to sleep. Many of my brethren chose to remain at rest but some were returned to heaven. Jack and I, we have been leading the rebuilding. We are changing it, Dean. Its no longer a place where each person re-lives their memories. It’s open and free, a place where souls can rest and seek greater fulfillment. I was building it with you in mind. I didn’t expect you to be arriving so soon, though.”

He says this last accusing, angry and finally makes eye contact with Dean.

“Hey, man, I wasn’t exactly planning to be taken out by vamp-mimes in Canton freaking Ohio today.”

“You need to be more careful.”

“Yeah, I guess maybe I do. But that still doesn’t answer the question. How did you get to me? Did you get your wings back?”

“No, our wings are… I think Jack wanted angels to stay in heaven and not interfere on earth so he didn’t restore our wings. Our work is now in heaven, restoring it, re-creating it, and protecting the souls there. But I could feel your distress so I asked him to send me to you. I knew I wouldn’t be able to return to heaven.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean fumes.

“It’s alright, Dean. I would prefer to be here… if you will have me.”

“If I’ll have… of course you can stay, you dumbass. But I’m still pissed you left like you did.” Dean breaks eye contact, eyes drifting down to where their thighs are nearly touching, his right hand coming up to scratch the side of his neck before he suddenly leans forward and wraps Castiel in a hug. “I’ve missed you, you know?” Dean breathes into his neck.

“And I, you, Dean,” Castiel answers, wrapping his arms tightly around his friend.

The hug lasts just a bit longer than Dean’s usually do but Castiel isn’t complaining. He hasn’t felt this happy since he spoke his truth to the man several earth weeks ago. It’s been much longer in heaven, but time doesn’t exist there in a linear sense so it feels like a very long time to him. Dean takes a deep breath and separates them but keeps his hands on Castiel’s shoulders and looks him deep in his eyes. Castiel is lost for a moment in the beautiful sea of green, sparkling with unfallen tears.

“Cas, your grace. What did you do with it that saved me?”

“You were going to die, and I… I wasn’t powerful enough to heal you. My grace has been waning for a long time and I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch you die. I knew the only way was to give you directly what grace I had left.”

Dean is shaking his head looking stunned and sad and his mouth opens like he wants to protest.

“Dean, it was my choice, one that I don’t regret.”

“But I’m not-“

“Don’t tell me you aren’t worth it. There will never be a moment when you aren’t worth saving.”

Dean huffs, head shaking again. “Thanks, Cas. I know I don’t say it enough but thanks… for everything.”

They sit in silence for a moment, neither ready to break eye contact or the gravity of the moment. Finally, Dean looks away. “So, what does this mean. Are you human now?”

“Essentially. What residual grace I have left isn’t enough to give me any powers. I’ll live a human life and I’ll age and die.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. That was such a stupid way to get hurt and you gave up your grace for me? I’m… I’m so sorry, Cas.” Dean puts his hand over Castiel’s, an obvious plea for forgiveness.

Castiel is shocked for a moment. Hand holding isn’t something he knows Dean is comfortable with and even though he told Dean that he is in love with him, he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He will be satisfied being the hunter’s friend since he knows that Dean could never love him back the same way.

“Cas, man, I need to say something here. It’s about what… what you said before the Empty.”

“That doesn’t need to change anything between us. I just needed you to know how I felt.”

“You were wrong, you know.” Castiel squints and tilts his head, trying to figure out what Dean means, what he was wrong about. And Dean smiles at him, fond and affectionate. “To think you can’t have what you want. How do you even know if you don’t try?”

“Dean, I guess I was too ambiguous. When I said that I loved you, I meant that I am in love with you and what I want is to be with you, always. Were it my choice, you would be my partner, my friend, my lover, and my soul mate. But I know that you don’t feel the same and that’s okay. I’m satisfied with just being able to tell you that.”

“Well, what if I’m not satisfied with that? What if you fucking off like that without even giving me a chance to respond was pretty messed up? Cause here’s the thing, Cas.” Dean swallows and takes a large breath, obviously gearing up to say something difficult and important. “You know how you said that I’m, you know, good? Well, man, you need to believe that you are too. Cas, half the time I was only able to stand up and fight because you and Sam believed in me. You, fighting with us and for us… for me, is what changed everything. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I lo… I love you too, Cas. So that thing that you think you can’t have… what if we give it a shot?”

Castiel can feel his eyes becoming misted over and he can barely believe what he is hearing, that Dean could possibly be in love with him too. He had never considered the possibility that Dean could love him, let alone love the male body that has become his own. But here he is, sitting close to Dean, with his hand warm under Dean’s and the hunter’s eyes looking at him with earnestness, fear, and a pleading.

Castiel slowly nods and watches a fond smile build on Dean’s face. “Yeah?” He asks, “Do you wanna try… a kiss?”

“Yes, please,” Castiel breathes out soft and solemn. And Dean brings a hand up to his cheek and softly caresses down to his neck and gently tilts his head and pulls him in until their lips meet. It’s short, just a soft caress but the thrill of it is nearly too much to bear.

Dean pulls back and rests their foreheads together. “I never thought this would be something we could have but, Cas, we beat God. We’re free now and I just wanna have a life that’s mine.” Dean pulls back a bit but stays close, their faces only inches apart. “And I don’t usually do the whole relationship thing so I don’t even know if I’m going to be any good at it, but I’ll try, for you.”

“We’ll figure it out together. But first, can we do that again?” He asks, the slightest smirk on his face.

And Dean growls, “Hell yeah,” and dives in for another kiss, this one a lot less innocent than their first. Dean deepens the kiss, one hand wrapping around Cas’ back and the other threading through the hair on the back of Castiel’s head, giving him better control to pour his feelings into the kiss. Cas lets Dean take the lead, he can feel the hunter’s desperation and wants to give him everything he needs. Dean makes a low, satisfied sound and Castiel’s insides do a flip because he never imagined that sound would be because of him.

Just as their hands begin groping at eachother, Sam returns.

“Oh… oh, man, sorry guys,” he says awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Dean pulls back but keeps his hands on Cas’ jaw and smiles, secretive and just for him.

“So… uh, it looks like you guys figured things out.”

Dean laughs, a free bubbly sound and tells his brother, “Yeah, Sammy, it took a while, but I think we finally both know what we want.”

-------

Sam takes the whole thing in stride, barely even acting surprised and when Dean asks him why, Sam just rolls his eyes and says that he has watched his brother and his angel dance around this for years just waiting for them to figure it out. And when Dean protests that Cas is a dude, Sam gently reminds him of his crushes on Dr. Sexy and Gunner Lawless and his fling with Lee. Dean looks at him shocked, growling that Lee could have kept his mouth shut but Sam just tells him no one ever had to tell him because he had eyes. Dean shakes his head, tells him to shut up, and smirks at him over his beer bottle.

Life in the bunker with the four of them barely feels like an adjustment. It’s so easy for Cas to move into Dean’s room and fall into a routine. Dean gets that construction job and Sam, Cas, and Eileen go to work on solidifying the hunter network. Charlie and Stevie come by to help install a phone system so that they can dispatch and play FBI leaders when others need it. Dean jokes that they are becoming Hunter Corp and even gets some business advice from their counterparts who are still living it up in Brazil, which never won’t be weird.

They still pick up hunts themselves, sometimes just Sam and Dean, leaving Cas and Eileen to man the bunker. With Cas being fluent in ASL, they find themselves having secret conversations and making each other laugh, to the chagrin of their partners who just know it’s about them. Other times Dean will grab Cas and hit the road for a hunt, usually picked because it’s close to something he wants to see. They took care of a wendigo in Arizona so that they could stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon and the four of them killed a dragon living in a cave in California and spent the next week enjoying the ocean, toes in the sand, fingers entwined, and laughing at Miracle as he frolicks in the waves. Cas spens days kissing all of the new freckles that appear across Deans face and body from all that sun.

The Society of Letters, as they rename it at Charlie’s request, flourishes. Sam is a natural leader and they develop a rotation where different hunters will spend a week or two at a time in the bunker, manning the phones and dispatching cases. It also becomes a resting stop for hunters who, like Sam and Dean for so many years, don’t really have a home and just travel from case to case. The infirmary becomes well stocked and they hire Alex on full time to take care of injured hunters.

Dean loves it at first. He gets to see all of his friends. Claire and Kaia, Donna and Jodi, Caesar and Jesse, Garth and Bess. They all take shifts and his life is full of friends and family. Eventually, though, he is tired of not being able to roam around in his robe or not being able to pin Cas to map table and have his way with him. There are just always people coming and going in his home.

Two years in, he and Cas move out to a small craftsman on a lake about 10 miles from the bunker. It’s close enough that they can see Sam and Eileen whenever they want but far enough to be quiet and all theirs. It has a small pier for Dean to fish off of and a big yard for Miracle to chase squirrels. The garage is big enough for Dean to work on Baby and for Cas to park Dorothy’s bike, which has become his preferred method of transportation. Cas has beehives and a garden and Dean can’t stop watching him in his sun hat with his hands in the dirt and his heart still skips a beat sometimes just knowing that Cas is his. He gets a job teaching foreign languages at a local community college and damn if he isn’t the hottest professor Dean’s ever seen in his vests and sweaters.

One day he slips a ring on Cas’ finger after amazing adrenaline-filled post-hunt sex in a musty motel room outside of Des Moines. They get married in their back yard, fairy lights twinkling in the trees and the sun setting over the lake, bathing the scene in golden light. There is no priest or official, just Dean and Cas promising their lives to each other as they stare into each other’s misty eyes. The rest of the world seems to disappear. Afterwards, 20 or so guests hover around the picnic tables covered with pot luck dishes and dance to the tinny music coming from a table top speaker in the clearing surrounded by folding chairs. Dean sways slowly with Cas as he whispers, “I love you, Castiel Winchester,” in his ear.

Sam and Eileen move out a year later when she announces at Christmas dinner that they are having a baby. They too stay close, finding a home in an older suburban neighborhood with huge trees in the yard for the kids to climb and neighborhood children always blocking the road with their street hockey games. They sold some of the Men of Letters cars to buy the house and now the bunker’s garage is actually functional for the hunters coming and going. They both keep working in the bunker as leaders of the Society of Hunters, but they stop going on hunts and focus on raising the kids.

And so life goes on as it does, full of celebrations and tears, births and deaths, hunts and holidays, victories and losses. Dean and Cas still fight, bickering over things big and small. Cas will always be too stubborn and Dean too controlling. And when things get bad, Dean fumes as Cas takes off on Dorothy’s bike to get away from it all. But he learns that Cas will always return to him and they get better and making up, at talking, and at listening as the years roll by.

Dean dies on a Tuesday. It was the bacon that got him after all, a heart attack at the end of a long life. Sam smiles at the irony and they give him a hunter’s funeral. Sam is surrounded by his friends and his growing family that now includes four grandchildren. Led Zeppelin plays and everyone toasts Dean as the drinks and stories flow freely. There is laughter and joy as his life is celebrated and Sam thinks this is exactly what Dean would have wanted. Cas never leaves his seat by the fire until the last embers have burned away. Sam knows Cas won’t be far behind Dean, his health is ailing too and they never did do well without each other.

“Hey, Cas, how are you doing?” Sam asks, bringing a drink over to his brother-in-law.

“I’m OK, thank you,” he answers, adjusting the blanket that Claire had placed over his lap. “I know where Dean is and I promise you, he’s happy. He’ll be greeted by Bobby and Mary and Charlie and we even planned a reception for him at the Roadhouse. I think even Jack will be there.”

Cas closes his eyes and tips his face to the sky, breathing in and he looks peaceful.  Sam sits down next to him, groaning a bit at the arthritis that has set into his old joints.

“I’m so grateful for you, Cas. You made him happy for all these years and even prepared heaven for him.” Sam feels a tear trickle down his face. “I’m just going to miss him so much!”

“I miss him already, but we will all be together again soon. You and Dean are the best humans I have ever known. What we did together, we have earned eternal peace and fulfillment.” Cas finally turns to him, smiling. “We did it, Sam. We wrote our own story and it was good.”

#Supernatural #Destiel #Destiel fanfic #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Castiel #15x20 #15x20 fix it #Dean Winchester lives #Castiel to the rescue #lots of feelings #and talks between the boys

[lambourngb]

For the first sentence meme - not sure what sort of mood you are in, writing-wise, so here are a couple ideas (no pressure to use any of these, of course)! - “Do you have any idea why I’ve done to try to forget about you?” - “You deserve a break.” - “I thought you could use the sleep.”

Hell or High Water (Is It Too Late) 

----

“Do you have any idea what I’ve done to try to forget about you?” Alex sang into the microphone, his hands still on the strings of the guitar. The swell of the song faded as his voice filled the Wild Pony and he smiled, looking past Forrest watching him with a glow of pride, to the shadowed figure with a black cowboy hat. “But I can’t, oh I can’t forget…” 

He smiled for the audience, as they clapped and cheered. “Thank you. I wrote that song while I was serving overseas. Tonight's crowd is much better looking, much better smelling, and not as well armed as the last one that heard it.”

“Speak for yourself!” yelled someone from the back of the bar, sparking laughter around. 

“Point taken,” Alex acknowledged, then brought his hand up to the fret of his guitar. “I have one more for you tonight, it’s something I wrote recently. It’s about being good, to yourself first. It’s called ‘Every Night Ends At the Drive In With You’.

Afterward, as he accepted the compliments from the crowd, he finally found his seat next to Michael at the bar. “You made it, I didn’t think you would.”

Michael placed his hat on the bar, ruffled but well conditioned curls spilled over one eye. “You promised me a free drink, how can a man turn that down?”

Feeling brave and still high off the energy of the stage, Alex reached to tuck Michael’s hair away from his face, before turning to wave over the bartender with his performer’s bracelet in view. “Claiming my free drink, can you make it -”

“Seltzer and lime,” Michael finished. “Trying out being good to myself here too.”

 ***

“You deserve a break.” 

Michael looked up from his work on the gene sequencer that Liz had ‘acquired’ at the hospital with Valenti. Dubious acquisition of equipment meant that when it broke, or in this case was shot up, it was up to Michael to put it to rights. “I will take one, once this is fixed.”

Alex shook his head, and dropped the bag of takeout next to him. He straightened the pocket where his cover was stowed in his uniform absently, “And it can’t wait until tomorrow?” 

“Both Liz and Rosa have altered protein structures because of being healed, and if healing a human changes your genetic makeup-”

Now it became clear to Alex, the force behind Michael’s almost manic drive to repair the equipment in the lab after the attack. “Michael, I’m fine.”

He froze, his hands still in the guts of the machine and gritted out, “you’re fine *now* but that could change.”

Sighing, Alex moved closer, slipping between Michael and his work. He started unbuttoning his uniform shirt, pulling the collar of his undershirt down to reveal the multicolor handprint. Michael echoed his sigh, leaving the machine and obligingly placed his hand over Alex’s chest on the mark. The healed left hand fit the outline perfectly. 

“You saved me. I’m not going anywhere.”

***

“I thought you could use the sleep.” Michael explained, from his seat on Alex’s bed. He was propped up against the headboard, dressed in what Alex recognized as his sweats, with his hair damp from a shower, but his eyes were tired from a sleepless night. 

Alex glanced down at his phone in confused betrayal. His alarms were all silent, but more telling were a series of text messages from his sent box requesting a personal day from his secretary, and cancelling his dinner plans with Forrest. “So you broke into my phone and decided for me?”

“For an NSA trained cryptologist you should have better security-” 

“I do for my work phone. This is my personal phone! As in, personal privacy-” Alex broke off, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.” He took another deep breath, and pushed down his nettled feelings to concentrate on what he was really reacting to, Michael’s. 

The handprint shined between them, shouting in Alex’s ear, all of Michael’s fears and worry. 

It was valid to be concerned. Just twelve hours ago the security at the school had been compromised by what Alex thought was a glitch from another lightning storm. He had walked into the lab, interrupting a squad of armed black-uniformed soldiers, and had been shot before he really realized what was going on. Waking to Michael’s white face, his hand still warm on Alex’s blood-soaked shirt, changed everything.

It also changed nothing at all. 

“You were right, I needed the sleep. Thank you and it’s probably a good idea to stay home until this print fades, can’t exactly explain it if someone sees it.” It especially would be hard to explain to his boyfriend, Forrest. The pivotal third date was scheduled for tonight. Alex was both looking forward to it, and dreading it at the same time.

Moving on had been easier than he had expected when it came to dinner out, or drinks at the bar because Forrest was a great conversationalist, but sex was going to be a whole new ballgame for Alex.

Silently, Michael offered his own phone to Alex, the message app open. 

The last message was to Maria, ‘You were right. It is my family, then Alex in my heart, then everyone else. I’m sorry.’

“I don’t understand,” Alex stuttered in surprise. “You said, you said we weren’t good for each other.”

“I can’t be good for someone, if I’m not being good to myself and that starts with being honest. Really honest, with myself. And it’s always been you, it’s always going to be you for me.” Michael smiled sadly, his eyes dropping to the mark on Alex’s chest. “You can do what you want with that information, Alex. I don’t expect anything.”

Well fuck. There was no denying the depth of Michael’s feelings or the sincerity in his words, since he was being treated to a psychic torrent of brutal honesty from the mark. Alex could trust that at least, but what kept him silent, was whether he could trust himself in return. In the past he had done a lot of self-destructive actions because of Michael, like putting himself back in Roswell for good.

“I can see the gears turning, it’s okay. Those are my cards on the table. I’ve given you lots of reasons to move on, hell some of them I said to myself, our past, the danger I put you in, plus I know I’m not a prize. My temper, plus I drink too much-”

“I don’t care, Michael.” Alex cut him off, and steadied himself under the quick rush of stung feelings from Michael. “I don’t care because I’ve never really cared about that. I cared when I thought you were hurting yourself because of me. And let’s face it, I’m all of those things to you, too. I’m dangerous to you, my family especially, and I’m a dick, I sometimes have to disappear because people are a lot-”

“Wait, wait, are you saying?”

Alex licked his lower lip, watching as Michael followed the movement with fragile hope, “I ah. I am saying, I sometimes perform at the Wild Pony, and there are free drinks for performers. When, when this handprint fades, I’d like to buy you one.”

#aewriting #malex fic #mentions of others #trying to get back on my bullshit #sorry if this is rusty and weird #roswell new mexico #malex

[gwasgy]

Okay. So. Here’s an elaborate multiple days of brainstorming ideas as they come PracticalMagicnatural AU nonsense. Thank you.

- Bobby and Rufus would be the Aunts and they'd be bffs not siblings and would have Vibes but it would be... hm. This is not a Bufus story is what I'm saying.

- the Curse would be on the men and for the women they love of course (classic fridging :/)

- this works for Bobby, (Rufus,) John, and Sam. (Supernatural is bad)

- so this is where it's kind of. Hm. Bc Sally and Gillian are not one to one for either boy. Where Sally and Gillian BOTH have identities separating family and magic (family business), these ideas are inseparable for the brothers.

- alsooo dean and sam to BE dean and sam they would've had to be "raised" by john until they were at least near-grown, even if they had a home base at Bobby's house.

- John still kills himself with grief MAYBE but it's like /later/ and more through self destruction and revenge and alcoholism, leaving the boys to live their later teenage/early twenties in the Bufus household

- Azazel is the one killing all the Wives in this curse. And if they use The Resurrection Spell to bring them back, he is possessing them

- hmmmmmmmmm they need to still be hunters I think buuut what if. They also did witchcraft.

- Dean would cast the love summoning spell, making it so that he uses angel descriptors unwittingly or on purpose because he doesnt think angels are real and therefore cannot exist for him to fall in love with and kill (bc the curse)

- it would be fun and very cringe fail embarrassing for Dean if sometimes he thought about His Angel and accidentally occasionally prayed to Cas

- Anna could show up and be Dean's red herring

- Dean could be in an About to Die situation and think, as a joke or whatever, "fuck. I never even got to meet that hot angel chick that's in love with me," and Cas shows up (with wings bc hot), saves him, *handprints*, then leaves

- OR. There's a blinding light and screeching noise and Dean blacks out and wakes up with a handprint safe and sound

- Cas and The Guy From Practical Magic That's A Cop both bend the rules of their superiors for their person easily and pliantly. except for the initial pushback. Hm.

----

- it's weird bc in practical magic there's this whole vibe of I'm Done With Magic And You're Dragging Me Back Into This And Ruining My Life but sammy had gone away and rejected The Life THEN found the woman he loves and THEN tried to resurrect her mayyybeeeee wait wait wait it wouldn’t be Jess bc she isn’t evilll...

- DEAN would be the one with a bad boyfriend that they accidentally kill and have to resurrect... hmmmmm

- maybe it's like a Boy Best Friend of dean's like maybe he is on a hunt with Benny and he accidentally chops his damn head off and tries to resurrect him to cover it up

- and that fucks up something in the afterlife and Cas is sent to Fix The Problem of whatever the fuck happened to this guy's soul when they did this

----

- it's wonderful to think of the PTA mom shenanigans Dean and Sam could get into but I don't think that Dean would have any sort of kid in this besides maybe jack?

- I mean, it could be that Ben is still around and he was with Lisa but never Loved Her on principal, and left in time so the curse didn't fuck her up, but they're still friends and he will still pick Ben up from school sometimes

- I don't see how the phone tree could work into it but I don't think that it's necessary bc sam and dean and cas's version of this story does not and can not revolve around them being outsiders in their own community but overcoming it and accepting who you are and integrating into the community through girl power and witch magic

- BUT. the potential of sammy being possessed is yeah. It’s extremely. Yeah.

- They could have a nice bonding moment of I'm never gonna leave you you can do this like from Swan Song. Like Sally joining Gilly in the broom circle to help her while she’s being exorcised

- their brotherly bond is NOTHING like Sally and Gillian's, though. Like YES. they would no doubt help bury the body, but they aren't giggling about their love life under the covers together. They simply are not that type of girl

- also I guess there wouldn't be the tension of You're Ruining My Life That I've Constructed Just By Being Here between them.

- WELL.

- Dean WOULD say something shitty about cleaning up Sam's messes though. He is just that type of guy

----

- Dean can definitely be the one chopping and hacking at the rose bush and cas would DEFINITELY get distracted and heal him in the middle of his conversation with him

- Dean oh dean he and his close Boy Best Friends could totally fuck with the curse. Like-

- Dean: Oh my good friend Benny he’s the first person ive really allowed myself to get attatched to in a while but that’s fine! he can't die because i don't love or like him like that because he's a guy! Haha, I'm not gay! We are just guys being dudes just two bros hanging out :)

Benny: *dies anyway*

Dean: FUCK

- Sammy would totally make that new age witchy herbal shop that Sally had! that would be so fun. Also ft. periphery what the fuck is up with those people type locals

- maybe Rowena shows up still and Crowley is also there hmmmmm and Rowena teaches Sam magic stuff and it gets him to make the supernatural a part of his life again without having to do any hunting hmmmmmmm or it's just another tool in his arsenal and he just always deserves to have magic powers

- the supernatural ladies could work in the shop :) like Meg and Rowena and Ruby anndddd Alya :) Ava? The psychic hunger games MVP girl

- or all the kids work at that shop!! I miss those dang kids. Max, the twins, death lesbian, Jake, electric guy, and all them :)

- Rowena is like a witchy shop owner up in town that buys Sam's wares to sell in the city #CareerWoman #GirlBoss

- Jody and Donna can also hang out I guess. Since we're at Bobby's place

----

- Dean casts the love summoning spell after either Regular Heartbreak with Cassie, his first love, when he was 15 or whatever, OR after the behated Boy Best Friend death. Hmmmmmm

- it makes more sense for the story for dean to have someone die on him and apply to the curse. But I don't wanna kill Benny ):

- well I don't think he was ever In Love with Crowley or Benny like he was with Cassie (or even Lisa)

- when he was 15 or 14 and John was still around but had left him at the Bufus household he got hold of that love summoning spell and made sure it was impossible so he would never experience heartache again. He does so while crying teenagishly and 11 year old sam is like. Why the fuck are you summoning this weird monster girl to fall in love with you

- and Dean is like no no this kind of monster doesn't exist. Anyway they'd have glowing blue eyes and they're as big as a building and and they hear me whenever I call no matter far away

- Sam: that...... sounds like an angel, dean.

Dean, having already done the spell: WHAT. NO. NO IT'S NOT IT IS SO NOT LIKE AN ANGEL. ANGELS AREN'T REAL

- Cas in Heaven, a bunch of flower petals swirling around him: what the fuck is that. That's weird

- Cas like 13 years later when he sees a cajun zombie vampire demon: okay I'm already getting weird prayers from some guy down there I'm just gonna check that out

- by the time Cas gets down there they've killed it again and buried it and hmm

- It's weird because it's the opposite of Practical Magic here bc Cas is the one that needs to be believed about something supernatural BY dean

----

- what if they accidentally kill JOHN instead of a hot bf. Dean kills John bc John tries to kill Sam, and they panickedly try to resurrect him immediately

- yeah yeah yeah yeah and John, possessed by Azazel, gets killed again while still being possessed and is buried underground. There can still be a rose bush and frogs and whatnot

- I doon't know why Bobby and Rufus would just leave the brothers in their house if John was alive until then?

- Alright John's been missing for like 5 years and the boys have just been living there and assumed he's dead. Then he comes for Sammy bc Sam is Turning Evil or whatever and John's a huge loser about it

- so Bufus is like "you guys are acting insane and you aren't telling us what's wrong so we’re just going to leave and you're going to sort it out yourself." Like the aunts

- then, when cas shows up to track down the weird resurrected demon-possessed serial killer abomination Dean and Cas are EMBARRASSING like completely totally absolutely embarrassing cringe fail love where they can't talk normal with eachother and Cas keeps getting too close and staring but Dean forgets to tell him to back off or anything and he just stammers uselessly through thin dumb lies

- there aren't any children there to comically thwart Sam's plans to get rid of Castiel as he is investigating Dean and Sam but it could end similarly

- where Cas finds Sam making a small angel banishing symbol and is like "okay. You guys aren't to be trusted and you're doing something evil (and i don't understand what’s happening to me when i’m around Dean). I'm just straight up going to leave then" and boom he's gone

- the fight Sally and Gillian have right before Gillian gets possessed can play out pretty damn similarly with Sam and Dean, but it's a LOT different too

- like it's their DAD not some random serial killer bf. You can't choose your dingdang dad! So the part of "I cant keep cleaning up your messes" WHOSE MESSES who even says that to who whose mess could this even be

----

- Sam has a girlfriend that dies from the curse and it’s bc of being caught in the crossfire when Hunter Bullshit Happens. The Women of the Winchesters’ way. So he moves back specifically to get back into hunting and witchcraft to BREAK the curse hmmmmm.

- Much like Sally with Michael’s death. “I don't care what he comes back as. As long he comes back. Please do this for me. Please? Please? Please? Please?” :(

- I think Dean is an Of Course I’m Not Going To Fall In Love kinda character, like younger Sally before Michael. very pessimistic very self depreciating. He only confides his deepest darkest desires (to be loved simply and openly without fear of the Curse taking anyone. To be held and to take care of someone who will appreciate it) in his fakey fake pretend prayers to his imaginary angel (this turns out to be very cringe fail embarrassing when Cas shows up)

- Cas holds onto these prayers like Hallet (the cop from movie) does with Sally’s letter to Gillian, not knowing or understanding why he’s so fixated on them and why he can’t stop reading them/playing them back/listening in

- John… maybe he was pulling a Gordon and was killing all the psychic kids and was eventually going to have to kill Sam, and Cas was for some reason Put On The Case as an angel or was Allowed to Interfere or whatever bc it was fudging up God’s Plan

- and that’s how Cas justified being so fixated and taking notes on Dean’s prayers, like Hallet did with the letter. It was a good lead. It was about their father, and Sam seemed to be having psychic tendencies or whatever that could turn dangerous

----

- Okay okayokayokay so Sally and Gillian’s story is them escaping the ostracization they feel from the people in their physical regional community. The Owen’s family has always been outsiders, even before the curse came into being. They are persecuted for being witches (and sleeping around and being sexy).

- the sisters try to escape this either by just LEAVING: going to a place they can be themself without shame, or assimilating and abandoning a part of themself so that they can stay.

- the Winchester brothers are, I guess, ostracized by the hunting community because they are kept away from it and moved around a lot in the show. Okay okay okay okay okaywaitwaitwait

- Okay so the Winchesters feel alienated from both civilians and the hunting community, and they both eventually choose to do similar things to Sally and Gilly..! Sam LEAVES and assimilates, while Dean stays and just accepts his role his father gave him.

- Gilly and Sam LEAVE, while Dean and Sally STAY. Gillian and Dean embrace what makes them Different, while Sally and Sam reject it in favor of Being Normal

- The witchcraft/hunting thing especially doesn’t mesh well here though because Hunting is KILLING it’s literally murdering sentient beings. It’s war propaganda it’s desensitizing you to Even Though The Enemy Is Capable Of Good Individually They Are, As A Group, Evil And Should Be Slaughtered.

- Witchcraft in Practical Magic is just… a way of life that’s considered outside the accepted norms of society. It’s being openly queer, it’s being from a different country of origin, it’s being non-christian religious in a small town. Accepting witchcraft doesn’t have any moral good or badness, it’s just with or without the consequences of being “out” in your area. While accepting Hunting as a lifestyle is to accept putting yourself in bodily danger doing morally ambiguous/BAD things to protect people you can’t relate to or find a community in. Hmmmmmmmmmm

----

- Sam and Sally both have natural talents/instincts but don't want to use it in favor of being "normal"

-

#literally all i want to think about. #spn #my posts #like this is Just For Me but GOD. #if theres thoughts or feelings to be had please let me know #practicalmagicnatural #it ends in a whatever kinda way but let me tell you. This is not my final thoughts on this #pmn

[the-innefable-idiot]

welcome home

Hello yall!!!

This is my 3k fic based on the fic "another part of me could be you" by @spaceskam. I honestly don't know how to classify this, but you can consider a homage (?) to her work.

This pretty much a fanfic of a fanfic... yeah. I know.

Every feedback is welcome, both for plot/characterization and grammar/ponctuation. English is not my first language, so I usually right phrases that only make perfect sense to me. I want your reading to be as enjoyable as possible! :D

Please, enjoy!

Also on AO3.

-

Oh, I hope someday I'll make it out of here

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near

Wanna feel alive, outside I can fight my fear

(Lovely, Billie Eilish feat. Khalid)

Michael almost looses Alex for the second time, and now je realises it's time for him to get his act together. He just wasn't expecting all the love and support he got.

- 

Home is a concept that Michael never quite understood. Sure, he lived in many houses, but the goodbyes were never emotional. He knows that home is not the structure, but the feelings attached to some place, something or someone. Whenever he thought of home, blurred memories from outer space came to mind. The feeling of belonging was strong, even if he couldn’t attach an image to it. 

Michael used to spend hours fantasizing on how to turn a house into a home. A collection of mugs nicely displayed in the dining room. Vinyls and cds on one shelf and books on another, with a nice record player nearby. Some musical instruments considered weird by western standards. The walls covered with pictures of people and places he loved alongside posters of movies and bands he enjoyed. Had he grown up in a nice home, he would probably have been those kids with a camera in hand at all times, capturing moments around him.

Once he knew he was so, but so close to understand the meaning of home. He was thinking about buying a camera literally moments before his hand was shattered by a psychopath. Since then he swore to never raise his hopes. The day drinking and the bar fighting were the ways he made sure to never expect anything from anyone. Alex symbolized everything he wanted to have, but couldn’t, so he was determined to go for a simpler route. 

With Maria things were nice. A little bit more complicated than he expected, but still nice. Sure, she wouldn't be moving to the airstream anytime soon, but the relationship was nice. Her place has a few of his things: a toothbrush, a few pieces of clothing neatly folded in one corner of a drawer, a few bottles of beer and whiskey, a handful of books and even some mechanical tools he forgot to take back to his place. Michael never enjoyed making Maria to spend the night at the airstream, first because the overall place was tiny and uncomfortable, and second because her house had the whole atmosphere he dreamt about.

It was clear the effort they were putting into the relationship. Maybe a bit too much of an effort, some might say. As the time passed, everyone close to them noticed how the smiles between them stopped reaching their eyes. Michael would never admit it, but Alex being kidnapped only sped up the inevitable.

Michael knew something bad happened before Forrest came to him in the middle of a panic attack. He had this prickling feeling on his neck that something was just not right since he opened his eyes that morning. Now he was gripping the steering wheel of his truck and focusing on not letting his powers break something. The adrenalin rush being the only thing keeping him from having a mental breakdown. Actually, filling in Forrest with the whole alien thing was a great distraction because of the many details and intricate history he had to cover. Maybe Forrest noticed it and kept asking questions to ground Michael to the task at hand. Maybe Michael will find a way to subtly thank him later for that. Just maybe.

After finding a path of bodies that lead to a bleeding Alex on the floor, Michael felt like breathing for the first time that day. The relief was short, however, and the moment he saw the deadly wound (gun? Knife? Oh God it was bad) he knew what he should do. Forrest was holding an unconscious Alex on his arms. Somehow he managed to tear apart the bloodied shirt to ease the access to the wound (thanks Forrest, again). Michael's healing powers were shit, and he knew he wouldn't be able to heal Alex completely, but damn him if he weren't going to die trying.

The last thing he clearly remembers is the glow on his hands. He has flashes of walking to the car and drinking acetone. He was 75% sure he didn't hallucinate Kyle being there to check up on Alex. Did Alex really ask to sleep by his side? Was Forrest still there? Who knew? Definitely not him.

The next day Michael woke up at noon, still not sure if he was indeed in bed with those two guys or if it was just his brain revenging him after almost melting it the night before. Alex was still too drugged up for Michael to feel anything concrete from the handprint, but only the fact everyone was breathing was enough to calm him down.

This moment of silence between the three of them only gave Michael the reassurance to set things right with Maria. He couldn't keep marinating her in a below-average relationship just so he could prove a point. Maria deserved more than he could give her.

-------

The break-up was... complex. He could see jealousy and suspicion in her body language, and nothing Michael said changed that. Deep down she always new the possibility of Michael going back to Alex, but she was willing to try anyway. She was making an effort not to be too angry, after all she knew her friend had a past with the cowboy but still wanted to try a relationship. She avoided Alex for a while, scared for his reaction, but when the confrontation happened, she was met with nothing but understanding. She’ll never know how Alex could be so calm back then, because right now this fucking hurt and she wanted to punch something.

Moments before he left, Maria stopped him, asking him the one thing he didn't want to answer.

"Why are you choosing him now, Michael?" She asked while putting too much force on drying a cup of glass. "The other day he was stabbed, and you stayed for me. So, what changed? Definitely not Alex almost dying"

"I don't... know." He hesitated. Who was he kidding, this was their break-up and she deserved the truth, even if it meant not crossing her path ever again. "I think that nothing changed, actually. I really believed we had a chance at being happy together, you and I, and I was willing to try. I was so focused on choosing you over him every time that in that morning it was more of an autopilot choice. I didn't follow my heart because I’ve programmed myself to choose you." He could feel his voice cracking. The words were too painful even to him, but once he started he couldn't stop.

"God, Michael" she put the glass down hard, the only reason for not breaking being its thickness. "I am angry, and sad, and I don't want to see you for a while, but..." she looked at him, her voice going a bit soft for her next words "what we had was exhausting. I've been trying to pinpoint the moment where we turned the relationship into an obligation. Now I see it’s been like this since the beginning, but we couldn’t keep the act for too long." 

"I'm sorry, Deluca."

"I'm sorry too." She turned her back on him to organize the bottles on the shelf. "Just... stay away for a while, yes? I need to clear my head."

Michael tipped his cowboy hat and left without saying a word. Mixed with the sadness was a sense of relief. Now Deluca was free from him, free to search for someone who will wholeheartedly love her the way she deserved. He didn’t regret being with her, they took a shot and failed, but that’s life. At least they know they tried. His regret was on his actions. Maybe if he’d been more honest since the beginning, the end would’ve been different. 

-------

Alex was still asleep when Michael came back to the cabin. The handprint feeling was still fuzzy, so good thing Alex didn't feel all the whirlwind of emotions from the conversation with Maria. Michael had to drive around for a few hours after leaving the Wild Pony just to clear his head. The first thing he noticed when entering the cabin was Forrest in the kitchen, probably cooking something for Alex.

"Alex said, and I quote, you like your coffee like you like your men and women: strong and sweet. Is that right?" Forrest asked without taking his eyes from the stove. "I’m cooking everyone’s favourite because... well... because I can, but also because we deserve it. Alex and I ate half an hour ago, but gimme five minutes and your food will be ready."

Michal was shocked. One thing was Alex telling Forrest what Michael liked to eat and drink, another thing was for Forrest to get out of his way to just cook it. Why would he do that, specially considering he was the ex in the equation? 

"Michael, I barely know you and I can almost feel you overthinking this. Before Alex went back to take a nap he told me you were getting near the cabin and that I should start cooking. Which reminded me, later you both must explain the whole handprint thing for me. I’m still digesting the whole alien superpower thing, but I want to know more" Michael could hear Forrest's smile in his voice. Forrest was relieved and comfortable so his entire body acted like it. 

"Michael. Sit."

And he sat on the table without thinking twice. Sure, the warmth he was feeling towards Forrest was 100% from Alex because of the handprint, but damn this pocket-size historian for making it way too easy to like him.

Forrest put the meal on the table and sat near him. Michael only realised he was starving the moment he took the first bite, and in less than 10 minutes all the food was gone. The coffee was in a nice mug with the Slipknot logo on it, probably Forrest’s, because he knew Alex inclined towards the more emo bands.

As he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, Forrest sat on the couch. Michael knew he should leave and let Forrest take care of Alex, but he ended up sitting by the historian's side. He simply didn't want to go.

"Michael..." Forrest started, with his voice soft and his eyes even softer. "You are probably confused by your feelings because of the handprint. Right now you are feeling what Alex feels, so we can only have this full conversation once you are out of Alex's system."

Michael had to take a sip of his coffee just to do something with his hands. In his mind he was bracing himself for the final blow that would destroy him. Forrest was going to order him to leave them alone and never go back.

"Alex told me about your history, and I am so sorry for all the trauma you went through, and I am not saying only your hand.”

Oh, so Forrest knew about that.

“The three of us... we grew up thinking that love and pain are intertwined, you can only love something if you suffer for it." Forrest grabbed Michael's hands, forcing Michael to keep eye contact. "It took me and Alex years and a literal war to understand that love is not painful. It’s hard to believe, both at home or in a battlefield, and even to this day I wake up with doubts.” He paused, taking a deep breath. Michael could see Forrest tensing up, an indication that the next words were hard for him to say out loud. 

“Maybe my family is right and being gay is a punishment, and I deserve to be loveless and miserable for the rest of my life. When you hear you’re not worthy enough times, you start believing in it. Some days nothing, and I mean nothing, can change my mind."

Forrest noticed Michael was getting uncomfortable, and let go of his hands. Both took a sip of their drinks before Forrest sighed, and Michael could see the sadness behind his eyes. A sadness he knew all too well, one that everyone carries but few could hide well. It was a sadness that put doubt in people's heart and turned their self-worth into smoke. Michael wanted to hold Forrest and tell him that everything was going to be alright, but it was probably Alex' influence.

"Alex told me you grew up in the system, the next family worse than the last. I’ve worked with endangered youth, kids with similar stories, and I know how ugly it can get.”

Michael tensed up even more, a reflex that Forrest mistook for annoyance or anger. Michael tried his best to relax, to show Forrest it wasn’t him. It was an unconscious reaction from years of abuse. The historian hesitated for a moment, but then continued.

“What I’m saying is that... it was hard for me to learn that suffering for love ain't romantic or cute. Alex and I want to help you get out of this destructive path you are going through, but we need to start things right. No lies, no secrets, and specially no shame." Forrest grabbed Michael's hand again, but this time Michael was more comfortable. "I want you both to be happy, even if it means me getting out of the picture eventually." As a reflex, Michael tightened his hand, a silent 'no' for the possibility. Forrest smiled and let his thumb caressed the back of Michael's hand.

"I know you can't make any decision right now. First because you just broke up with a long-term friend, and second because of the handprint. Much of your feelings are from Alex, so you are biased. But..." He stopped to bring Michael hands to his lips, and Forrest kissed them lightly with a hint of a smile "once we settle down, we can try something different.”

Michael was taken by surprise. He ran many scenarios in his head, and none of them came close to <i>that.

“I mean, what's the point of being a gay historian if I keep my mind closed towards contemporary interpersonal relations? Monogamy is a recent construct to better control nuclear households and… and... I am going to stop because I am losing the focus here.”

Michael laughed. He understood more and more Forrest's appeal. After a few hours of almost losing Alex and breaking up with Maria, Forrest managed to make Michael laugh.

“Alex says I get a bit too passionate about this matters and..."

"Can I kiss you?" Michael blurted, surprising even himself. "I know, I know, the handprint and all, but Alex's feelings are still fuzzy from the drugs and I am pretty sure he doesn't control every single emotion I have." Now it was time for Forrest to be taken aback. He pondered for two heartbeats and nodded, still processing what just happened. 

Michael caressed Forrest face, mimicking what the historian did few moments ago on the back of his hand. Michael’s calloused fingers brushed the other man’s face, bringing him closer. It started as a brush of lips, and then escalated to a slow and tender kiss. It was one of those that meant comfort, not sex. It made Michael feel warm and safe. Forrest was saying "I accept you and you can stay", and Michael almost felt like crying.

The kiss was broken when they felt the weight shift in the sofa. Michael didn't know for how long they’ve been kissing. The only thing he processed was Forrest on his lap by the time Alex showed up. Michael was starting to panic when Forrest just let a little laugh, going back to the couch to give Alex a kiss on his forehead.

Michael's heart only came back to normal because he could feel how calm and peaceful Alex was. If not for the handprint, he’d definitely be running away right now. After the initial shock, Michael started to process how easy it felt to kiss Forrest while actively ignoring how he was the current boyfriend of his ex.

"You're overthinking again, Michael." Surprisingly (or maybe not), this phrase came out of Forrest, again. He didn't need a handprint to understand what was going on inside the alien's head, and that scared Michael. If only by knowing the stories he understood Michael better than his siblings, what would Forrest be able to do with a little more intimacy?

"War taught us that we can't take tomorrow for granted." Alex said, with a hint of tiredness in his voice that only existed after a drug-induced sleep. "That doesn't mean I'll feel sorry for you and let you go away with all the shit you put me through, Guerin." Alright, back to the last name basis then. "But I will, actually we will, offer you a chance of redemption, but it will all depend on you."

"Own your mistakes and learn from them. Don't project your faults onto others." Forrest said while standing up from the couch. "That means no more bullshit, Guerin."

Michael felt oddly comforted by both men being so straightforward. Yeah, he could get used to this bluntness. Maybe this is the first change he has to make from now on.

"Once this handprint fades and we’re in fully control of our emotions, we’ll talk about possibilities. Right now I just need to focus on not dying from an infected wound which an alien helped to heal." Alex said, finishing Forrest's tea to the last drop.

“Now, let’s give ourselves some time to digest everything. God knows I still need to process that I made coffee for an alien”. Which, by the way, would you like some more tea, captain?” Forrest stood up and grabbing the mug from Alex' hands. He didn't have to look at Alex to know the answer. "More coffee for you, Michael?" He motioned to the mug on the table.

Michael nodded, still mesmerized by what was happening. They had a long path ahead of them, but he knew how easy could it be to fall into a routine with them. Maybe the Slpiknot mug would slowly turn into his mug, and this realisation terrified him.

Michael slowly gave the object to the historian. He felt like if he moved a bit too abrupt, everything would dissolve and he would wake up in the airstream. Instead, the only thing that happened was Forrest going back to the kitchen and Alex completely relaxed on the couch. 

“Did he give you the whole speech about monogamy and nuclear households? I mean, the whole speech?” Michael shook his head no, and Alex let out a soft laugh. “Then get ready for at least a two-hour lecture from him. I’m not exaggerating. He has a powerpoint presentation about it.” 

Michael could feel more of Alex as the seconds passed, and he has never been so sure that he wanted to change. Forrest and Alex started talking about nothing in particular and Michael closed his eyes, letting himself be surrounded by the tenderness and warmth radiating from that place.

the end

#this is my second fic ever and I am finding out that i HATE tagging #goddmanit #here we go #alex manes #michael guerin #forrest long #forlex #malex #morex #? #malorex #????????????????? #every name for this is terrible please help #alex manes/michael guerin #forrest long/alex manes #forrest long/michael guerin #I am getting TIRED #roswell new mexico #rnm #roswell nm #fanfic #ao3 #love triangles are out and healthy polyamory is IN #I will probably do a few more pieces to continue this dynamic because I feel its a rare pairing #and I need to write all of this with Forrest before Carina MURDERS my hopes and dreams for the characters

[starrystarker]

five times that peter parker succeeded in seducing older men and one time that he didn't

contains: 2.4k of winterspider, mentioned pain play, mentioned (once) homophobia, anal beads, 20% plot 80% porn

part one | part two

part three: james "bucky" buchanan barnes aka the winter soldier

***

Peter looked at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't hard to get Nathan, the TA, to rough him up a little. The older man had asked him out multiple times but with no avail. When Peter asked him to look over his essay (in his office, perhaps), he was ecstatic. Peter thought he was about to pop a boner right there.

From there, it was almost too easy to get Nathan to leave bruises here and there, litter hickeys and bite marks all over his neck, and grab at his legs way too hard. Hard enough to leave handprints. All it took was a little "bite me, Nathan!" and "want you to mark me up, daddy-" and "choke me, please" and here he was.

Peter looks over his outfit, simple this time around: a white sweater tucked into grey sleep shorts. He thought white and lighter colours would bring out the dark purples and reds of the marks, which are quite literally all over his body. Lifting the hem of his shorts, Peter studies the hand-shaped bruises on his upper thighs. Nathan's hands were huge. Even though Peter's thighs aren't thick, the bruises covered the entire front of them.

Tilting his head, Peter runs a finger down the exposed column of his neck, and winces as his nail catches on a healing, but not quite, bite mark. As Peter's taking a closer look at the marks on his neck, he realizes that they extend all the way down to his collarbone. He pulls the neck of his sweater down a little, and lets out a small gasp as the fabric reveals many more grape-sized hickeys that are dark red. God, how hard did he suck?

The door to the bathroom opens and Peter whips his head around so fast that if he had longer hair, he surely would've hit himself with it.

"B-Bucky!" Peter stammers, quickly letting go of his sweater, pulling it up in a futile attempt to hide the marks and failing spectacularly. Truly, he deserves at least a Teen Choice Award.

The man grunts, not bothering to say hello verbally before marching right up to Peter and grabbing his sweater, tugging it down to reveal more marks. He jabs a finger at Peter's neck. "Wh-" he starts before looking down and taking in the marks on the boy's thighs. "What the fuck?"

"Um-" Peter says, cut off by Bucky.

"No. No talking. You're gonna tell me who did this, then you're gonna stay here." Bucky demands, tilting Peter's head to take a closer look at the bruises on his neck.

"What? No." Peter laughs, gently pushing the man's hand away. "I'm not telling you."

"I don't think you understand, kid. That wasn't a request. Whoever hurt you deserves to pay-"

Peter starts laughing, loud guffaws echoing in the large bathroom, doubling over to slap at his knees.

“Bucky, no, that’s not it.” Peter laughs again, even more so at the confused look on the assassin’s face. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I love that I have a trained assassin ready to beat up anyone who hurts me, but this is different.”

Bucky raises his eyebrow. “Different how?”

“I liked it.” Peter watches realization dawn on the older man’s face. He continues nonchalantly. “In fact, I asked him to do it.”

“Him?” Bucky asks, face giving away absolutely nothing. “I didn't know you swung that way. No pun intended.”

“I swing both ways, actually. And yeah, it’s not really information I share. Can’t you just see the headlines? Spider-Man Revealed to be ALSO GAY! Yeah, I don't think so.” Peter says as Bucky backs up a couple steps, no longer worked up over the marks on Peter. Or so it seems.

“I think that’s fine,” Bucky murmurs, staring at one particular spot on Peter’s neck. “More than fine, in fact.” These words are said so quietly that Peter’s sure that without his heightened senses, he wouldn't have heard them at all.

“What?” Peter says, pretending not to have heard.

“Nothing. Chap left lots of bruises, huh?” Bucky says, dragging his gaze from Peter’s neck all the way down to the handprints on his thighs.

“Yeah, I dunno. I just really like the feeling.” Peter muses, staring at his feet. “I think you started it, actually, Bucky.”

“I- what?” The older man says, momentarily stunned.

“Yeah, like, uh, a couple months ago, when we were sparring.” Peter says, looking back up at Bucky. The man’s eyes are positively glowing. They put Edward Cullen’s to shame, Peter decides.

“You, uh, grabbed my arm, a-and flipped me around,” Peter says, taking a step towards the older man. “I landed on my stomach, and y-you were still grabbing my arm.”

Bucky looks thoughtful, probably trying to remember this particular spar.

“You pulled a little bit, like you were- you were gonna break my arm.” Peter says quietly. “I got scared. I-It hurt- a little! Just a little!” He reassures Bucky, who looks like he’s just heard a story about Peter’s dog dying.

“And, um, I guess y-you got a flashback, or something? Then Mr. Rogers came in and pulled you, uh, off of me.” Peter finishes lamely. “But after that,” he covers his face, unable to look at Bucky as he utters out the last part. “I, uh, went straight to my room and I- I jerked off. I know it sounds really weird, but-” Peter pauses to take a peek at Bucky’s reaction, peeking from in between his fingers. He lets out a little sigh of relief when he sees that the older man doesn’t look disgusted with him. And if he is, well, at least he’s not showing it.

“-but I- I came harder than I’ve ever done before. And I did it while thinking about-” Peter stops. He takes a small step towards Bucky. “B-Bucky? A-Are you grossed out? Y-You think I-I'm disgusting, d-don't you?” Peter sniffles, wiping a tear away with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure?” Bucky says quietly, and Peter almost misses it.

“What?” Peter says, not sure if he heard right.

“Are you sure?” Bucky says, a little louder this time as he cradles Peter’s face with his good hand, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“Sure about what?” Peter asks, brows furrowing. He’s so afraid that he was reading this all wrong, that Bucky doesn't like him like that.

“Sure about me.” Bucky whispers. “I lost control when I was sparring with you, Peter.”

“Buck. Bucky,” Peter says, glad that he didn't read this one wrong, chortling through his tears.

"Look at you," Bucky says, grabbing Peter's shoulders lightly and looking him up and down. "You're beautiful. You can do better than me."

Peter huffs, cups Bucky’s face in his hands, and pulls him down to meet their lips together. Peter swirls his tongue around Bucky’s, then pulls away. The older man looks dazed, staring at Peter hungrily, his eyes wild.

“There. That’s it. Do you want me or not?” Peter pouts, crossing his arms. “Because I want you, Bucky.”

There’s a low growl from Bucky, and then Peter’s being lifted. He hooks his legs around the man’s waist, the height perfect for Peter to just tilt his head down and press his lips to Bucky’s.

“God, I've been wanting this for so long,” Peter moans in between kisses. Bucky sits them down on the bed, and the boy immediately pushes him down onto his back, then moves to lie on top of him, kissing him fiercely. Bucky slips his tongue in and out of Peter’s mouth, teasing him, riling him up, and he wants to record the high whine that the action draws from Peter’s lips so he can play it over and over again, on repeat, after this is over.

They pull away from each other eventually, a string of spit connecting their lips. Peter licks it from his bottom lip, watching Bucky follow the movement intently.

“I- I want you to use something on me,” Peter whispers, watching for Bucky’s reaction. The man seems mildly curious. He gets off of Bucky and the bed, grabs the black anal beads from a box under his bed, and tentatively hands it to Bucky, who sits up to receive it.

“Um, y-you know what this is, right?” Peter asks, looking up at the older man.

“Do you have lube?” Bucky asks, holding the string of beads in his palm.

“C-Could you use spit?” Peter blushes. “I- I like it better when- when they use spit.”

“Huh. Okay.” Bucky says, brows raised. “Well, strip then.”

Peter blushes again then starts stripping, almost tripping when he goes to kick his pants off. He hesitates as he’s about to take off his boxers, and Bucky must sense his hesitation.

“I’ll turn away, if that makes you feel better.” Bucky teases.

The boxers and shirt come down quickly after that. He lies down face up on the bed, squirming a little, covering his dick with his hands.

“You good?” Bucky asks, still facing away from Peter.

“Yeah.” Peter’s voice cracks. Wincing, he watches Bucky slowly turn around to look at him, sprawled out on the bed. The older man takes his time looking at Peter, gaze lingering especially long at his crotch. He lowers himself down on Peter gently, pressing a kiss to the boy’s nose.

“You’re gorgeous.” Bucky whispers, pressing a trail of kisses from his nose all the way to his belly button, slowly moving down. He goes further south, pressing kisses to the backs of Peter’s hands, still covering his crotch. “Will you let me see your cock, baby?” Bucky murmurs, pressing kisses everywhere around where Peter’s hands are. He nuzzles at the boy’s crotch, drawing little gasps, before Peter moves his hands to fist at Bucky’s hair. The boy's little cocklet jumps erect, no longer being held down by his hands.

"Baby, is that why you didn't want to show me?" Bucky coos as he strokes Peter's tiny cocklet. "Because you're embarrassed of your cute little cock?"

“N-No-” Peter stammers, feeling a drop of precum pool at the head of his cock.

“So cute. So tiny,” Bucky murmurs. Peter blushes, humiliated at his size. “Not even really a cock. Just a small little hairless cocklet. I’m gonna play with it later, okay? Now turn around.” Bucky commands.

Peter flips onto his stomach obediently. He feels Bucky’s tongue nudge at his hole, an insistent pressure. Just as soon as the tongue enters, it pulls away. Bucky spits at his hole, and a finger pushes in instead. The stretch feels fucking amazing, and even though it’s just one finger, it stretches like if Peter had three of his own in.

Bucky twists his finger around, trying to widen the opening for a second finger to enter. He adds a second finger, then a third, and how full Peter feels has moans and whimpers escaping his lips. The older man’s fingers are nowhere near his prostate but he feels like he’s about to cum anytime now, feels so on edge.

“Look at you, a whimpering mess, all because of three fingers. I'm stretching you all loose, baby, all sloppy for me.” Bucky murmurs, enjoying watching Peter squirm at the words. “How are you gonna keep the beads in with a loose hole, baby? You gonna clench your ass real tight?”

Peter clenches his ass at the words, and Bucky groans, imagining that hole clenching around his cock, the wet heat engulfing his length.

“I think you’re ready for the beads, baby.” The words barely register in Peter’s mind as the first bead pushes into his hole, the lewd squelching sound making him blush. The second and third beads are increasingly larger, and Peter shuts his eyes, scrunching up his nose. He can hardly wait for the pressure that is when the final bead is pushed in, the biggest bead, but for now, the process is torturous.

“Look at your hole, baby, so stretched out by my fingers. Your ass is swallowing the beads like it’s hungry.” Bucky coos, pushing the fifth bead into Peter. He’s starting to feel the pressure, the weight in his ass, and it’s fucking delicious.

“M-More, Bucky-” Peter whimpers, wanting the biggest bead in him as soon as possible.

The older man complies, pushing in the last two beads speedily. “You ready for the last one, baby?” Bucky rasps, watching Peter’s fluttering hole raptly.

“Y-Yes, give it to me-” Peter moans, the beads rubbing against each other in his ass, pressing at his prostate with every movement. He tightens his ass around the beads, forcing them deeper, making room for the biggest bead. Whining, he feels the beads knocking around his walls, a constant pressure on his prostate now.

“You sure, baby? You look awfully full.” Bucky teases, bringing the last bead to his entrance but not quite pushing it in.

“Bucky, please! I can do it, I can take it-” Peter wails as the older man pushes the biggest bead into his ass with some difficulty. The last bead looks like it’s about to burst out of Peter anytime, but Peter sucks in his stomach, clenches his ass, and his hole swallows the biggest bead with a wet pop.

“Baby,” Bucky grunts, flipping Peter onto his back. “So good for me, taking whatever I give you.” Bucky runs his hand over the boy’s belly, protruding just the slightest bit from the beads. He massages Peter’s stomach, almost, and Peter is writhing, every stroke of Bucky’s hands making the beads roll onto his prostate, making the beads press against his rim.

Peter’s sweating, the blinding pleasure of pressure on his special spot making his head swim dizzily, and he mumbles some sort of warning to Bucky before he’s crying out, “B-Bucky! O-Oh god, oh god-” and spurting all over his stomach.

“Good boy, so good for me, baby,” Bucky whispers to Peter as the boy rides out his orgasm. “I'm gonna pull these out now, honey.”

Peter nods weakly, eyes bleary and brain fuzzy from the mind-blowing orgasm he’d just had. He feels a light tug at the string of beads in him.

“Peter, baby, you gotta relax.” Bucky murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss at the tip of his cocklet. “Relax. It’s okay, sweetie, just relax, I’ve got you-” and he pulls the biggest bead out, the wet squelching loud and lewd. “It’s alright, the biggest one is out, baby.”

The rest come out easily, Bucky tugging lightly at the string. He puts his knees on either side of Peter, who’s still close to passing out.

“Thank you, Buck.” Peter mumbles, before falling asleep in the man’s arms.

***

taglist: @petecake @winter-starker @loki-iwanttobeking @thotticusmaxximus @briesb1tch @starkerfilth @reniisbooks @starkerthanreality @carttorchdeatth @sam-christo @loki-helmet @narutoyaoifans @venom-fucker @tony-is-my-daddy @fandommenagerie @shinycreatoroafbonk @strawberryparkers @deliciousflapbanditfarm @silkystark @kaddiisarat @peterpissparker @oh-my-starker

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

ps. also would be a great help if someone could tell me how to insert a keep reading on tumblr mobile. i hate to make yall scroll past 2.4k but i spent an hour trying to figure it out and nothing worked. help would be greatly appreciated!!!

#winterspider #nff

[planetsam]

"Don't touch him!" Michael found himself yelling those words once again but it's not 2008, it's the present and his instinct to protect Alex hasn't wavered.

“Where’s Alex?” He asks, looking around.

He’s still a little dazed this deal with Jesse Manes worked. That everyone is back in one piece. Liz looks over from the circle of Max’s arms and then around. She shakes her head. Michael doesn’t fight the feeling of dread that he feels creeping up his spine. He doesn’t see Jesse either. He only fights not to broadcast his obvious concern because he wants the element of surprise. Being casual is impossible when you think this hard about it, but Michael has spent his entire life pretending to be casual when he feels anything but. He’s really fucking good at it. The first three rooms he manages to clear with a glance.

The fourth room, his room, he finds them.

It’s stunning how much and how little has changed in a decade. How they wind up in the same positions. Jesse has Alex up against the wall, both hands wrapped around his throat. The bottom of his leg is lifted off the ground, breaking the seal. Alex is as defiant as ever, both his hands locked around his father’s wrists. This time though Jesse’s eye is already swelling from a well landed blow. The second he appears at the doorway, both of them look over at him. He can see Jesse’s fingers press harder as Alex digs into his father’s wrists fighting to break the hold as his eyes go red and his lips tinge blue.

“Don’t touch him!” Michael says and throws himself at Jesse, tackling him to the ground.

So many things are the same but he sure as hell isn’t. He’s not a kid holding himself back anymore, desperate not to show what he is. But the thought of using his powers barely crosses his mind. He uses a language Jesse Manes understands. Unequivocally. This time it’s the hand that Jesse ruined that ruins his face. A decade of pain seems to come out as he strikes him, over and over again until Alex hauls him off. Jesse is wheezing and bloody and very much down for the count. Some part of him that’s the culmination of generations of selective alien breeding screams for more. More blood, until his heart stops beating. Until he can’t bleed. But Alex is in front of him, stopping him from getting what he wants.

“Hey, hey that’s enough. He’s down,” Alex croaks, “he’s out. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not!” Michael yells, “he should be dead!”

Alex nods in agreement.

“Not by you,” he says, flattening his hand on Michael’s chest, “come on.”

“We can’t just leave him here,” Michael protests.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Alex says.

Michael looks down and okay that might be fair. But he still uses his power to drag Jesse to the nearby desk and uses the zipties to bind his wrists behind him. They get out of the room and Michael throws every lock before he immediately turns to Alex. The color his back in his face but the bruising his already starting on his neck. Michael brings him into the kitchen and goes into the freezer drawer. He roots around and comes up with a pack of frozen peas. Grabbing the dishtowel, he wraps it around the pack and sits on the stool next to Alex, carefully putting it against his throat.

“Max is tapped out,” he says regretfully, “or I’d ask—“

“Bruising will fade faster,” Alex rasps with a wry smile.

He lets him hold the peas there and keeps his chin up. His eyes move to the side and he taps a finger on Michael’s hand, giving him a questioning look. Blood is on his hand, but it’s not his own. Michael smiles roughly and shakes his head.

“Come on, all those bar fights at the Pony and you think I can’t throw a punch?” Alex shrugs as much as he can, “you wound me,” Michael says with a dramatic sigh, “hold this,” he says.

He washes his hands quickly before he comes back and replaces Alex’s hand with his own. Alex tries to look anywhere else but eventually his eyes settle on his. Michael’s used to Alex having a million things to say and not speaking any of them. Throat or no throat. But he doesn’t want to let the awkwardness build. He doesn’t want Alex to go away or come up with a reason to leave. Michael would love to be the kind of person who has faith but in moments like these, he needs Alex there. More than usual. Despite everything.

“Thank you,” Alex says quietly.

“I should be saying that,” Michael says, “orange isn’t my color.”

“I mean for looking for me,” Alex says.

“Oh,” Michael looks down before meeting his eyes again, “I always look for you, Alex.”

Alex’s eyes shut briefly at the mention of his name. It’s been a long time since he’s said it where Alex can hear it. It’s another petty bullshit Alex didn’t deserve on top of everything else. Calling him ‘Manes’ was a low blow on his part, worse than Alex calling him Guerin. At least he had the luxury of never having met another Guerin. Any apology he makes right now isn’t going to be believed. Michael’s not sure any apology he ever makes will be enough for what he’s put them through. His head flies up as someone tries to come in for more ice or drinks and he flips them finger before sliding the door shut and throwing the lock.

“They’re fine,” he says, knowing full well Alex doesn’t want anyone to see him like this “how are the peas? Still cold?”

He moves the bag to inspect it when Alex is suddenly closer, taking it from his hands and grasping his. The emotion on his face is crippling and echoes something Michael was honestly planning to deal with later. Later or never. He fully wants to go back into the room and kill Jesse Manes for putting them in this position again. He’s hidden bodies before. No-one deserves it more. The only thing that keeps him sitting where he is, is the fact that here is where Alex is and he wants contact with him even more than he wants to kill Jesse.

“Shit, Alex—“

“Can you just—“ Alex cuts him off, leaning towards him. Michael presses his forehead to his, trying to steady his own emotions, “keep using my name?”

“Yeah of course,” Michael says, “of course I can,” he he feels Alex’s unsteady breath on his face, “I’m sorry I did that.”

“No,” Alex says with a wet sound, “I deserved—“

“No,” he cuts him off fiercely, “no you didn’t. Don’t say that. You didn’t deserve any of it. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I should have realized—“ he presses into Alex’s forehead, “I was so fucking stupid.”

Alex doesn’t correct him and he doesn’t leave. Michael lets that settle over him and root in his chest. Forgiveness is something neither of them have much experience with. Things that are truly unforgivable make up so much of their lives. It was hard to realize how badly he wanted to forgive Alex, but it was easy to do when he did it. He’s not prepared for how badly he wants his forgiveness in this moment. How much he wants each breath that comes across his face to be the one where he does it. He wants them to be on the same page. At the same time. For once. He doesn’t want this to go the way it did last time.

“I should—“ Alex goes to move back and Michael finds himself reaching for him.

“Stay?” He asks, “please just—“ Fuck, he can’t start crying too, “please.”

“I’m right here,” Alex says softly, taking his hand and settling it on his other while he swipes under his eyes with the back of his hand and then reaches for the peas.

“Oh, shit, right, hang on,” Michael scrambles over to the fridge and practically cracks his head open coming back with a bag of corn. He swaps out the towel and then gently pushes the bag against the bruises, “better?”

“Yes,” Alex says.

“No more talking,” Michael says, executively deciding for the sake of Alex’s bruised neck, “we can talk later. Right now just let’s do this,” he looks at him, “Sound good?”

Alex gives a slight nod.

They both turn at the sound of shoes coming towards them. Thankfully they are pumps and there is only one pair. Isobel rounds the corner and puts her hands on her hips, waiting for an explanation. First she gives Alex a once over and then fixes Michael with a look.

“Jesse Manes is unconscious in my room,” he says, “could you—“

“Only because it’s Jesse,” she says.

“Thank you!” He shouts after her, “love you! Also, could you get rid of everyone?”

Isobel has ranted at him for many hours how perfectly timed events are her ‘thing’. Parties have a time window. They definitely have not hit that with this one, but shortly after she stomps off, she appears outside with an airhorn and kicks everyone out. Then it’s just the two of them. Alone. Another thing they haven’t done in months. The handprints on Alex’s neck are bruises and ugly, but not as swollen as they should be since they’ve been iced.

“Guerin I’m okay,” he says and his voice is a lot less raspy.

“Are you sure?” Michael says, rooting through the bottom of the freezer, “we’ve got frozen raspberries, but Isobel might try to kill us if we ruin breakfast,” he says before turning around with the bag in his hand, “we could risk it,” he says holding it up.

“Seriously, the swelling’s down. Now the bruises just have to heal.”

Michael ditches the raspberries in the freezer and comes back, gently tipping up his chin to inspect his neck. Above his head he hears Alex make a huff of frustration, but he lets him do his inspection. Michael gently touches one of the bruises. The skin is still warm.

“I can call Max,” he offers.

“Thank you but it’s okay,” he says, “two sets of handprints is enough,” Michael sighs, not liking the sound of it. Alex lets out a laugh before wincing, “maybe don’t make me laugh right now,” he says.

Alex doesn’t jerk out of his grip. He’s letting him touch him. Michael’s got one hand on his chin and the other is on his thigh. He doesn’t know if he’s pushing things already. But moving slowly has never been something he’s been great at. When he moves closer, he can tell Alex feels something shift too. He sees his eyes track him and his throat works, but he doesn’t move away. Michael gives him all the time before he leans the rest of the way forward and brushes his lips to one of the bruises.

A soft breath escapes Alex’s lips and Michael does the same with another. He kisses each of the bruises he can on the side of Alex’s neck. Then he moves to the other. When he switches hands, Alex turns and leans into his palm. Michael kisses the bruises on the other side of his neck and curls his fingers into Alex’s hair before he straitens up. He gently reaches out with his other hand, cupping Alex’s cheeks in both of his palms.

It’s Alex who very carefully moves forward and kisses him.

In the back of his head he thinks about the last time they were here and how things ended. About the kid who scrambled into his car and lost every bit of hope. Now as Alex kisses him, sitting at the kitchen table of the house he shares with his sister, he wonders if that kid could have ever imagined having so much hope it felt like it would burst from his chest.

“Is this okay?” Alex whispers against his lips.

“Yeah, Alex,” he says, “this is perfect.”

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex fic #roswell new mexico #malex #roswell nm fanfic #malex fanfic #prompts #apparently im already on the fix season 2 train #planetsam is planetextra

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Changing (7)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, X-MEN, DEADPOOL

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  Sequel to Name Calling

After merging with your bloodthirsty alternate personality things start getting a little dicey. You’ve got two decades worth of anger to sort through, a feral mutation to figure out how to live with, a biological father who you hate trying to teach you control and if your wedding planner suggests teal for the bridesmaids again you might just eat her liver.

Luckily you have Bucky Barnes by your side, helping you figure things out. What Bucky doesn’t know is that you have found an outlet for the uncontrollable rage, one that absolutely nobody can know about. If your friends and family knew that you were out slaughtering people in the dead of night while they slept, they might be a little annoyed. Wade Wilson is happy to keep your secret though, so long as you keep bribing him with Mexican food.

For as long as you could remember, all you had wanted was to be good. Now you’re seeing the temptation in the darkness.

Chapter Seven - Home Is Where The Heart Is 

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?” Bucky roared as soon as the quinjet ramp descended.

He honestly looked like he wasn’t sure whether to kiss you or kill you.

“Um...” You stammered.

How the fuck did you explain this one?

“Logan called. Said you FELL OUT OF A FUCKING PLANE!” He started patting you down, checking you were as fine as you appeared.

“It took me a while to you know, stitch myself back together.” You offered meekly.

“Doll, you fell out of a plane.” He repeated.

He looked up at you and the pain and worry on his face nearly knocked you over. You threw your arms around him and held on as tightly as you could.

“The boy, Ryan. Is he ok?”You asked.

“Logan has him, he’s ok.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is all that blood yours?” He asked weakly and for the first time you actually looked at yourself.

You were covered head to toe in the dried red flaky stuff. You nodded.

“Oh my god.” He held you like you might break apart in his arms.

“I’m ok. Really.” You promised.

“How can you be fine? You fell out of a plane.”

“I know I did, I was there.” You joked.

He was shaking and you realised it might be too soon to joke about it. Truthfully it hadn’t been a pleasant experience at all but you were trying not to focus on it. You pulled back to look at him but his eyes were fixed on something behind you and he had gone pale, like he had seen a ghost.

You turned to see what had spooked him and swallowed thickly. You had left quite a mess in the quinjet. There was a thick red trail leading up the ramp and bloody handprints everywhere. It looked like several people had been murdered.

You blinked back tears as you remembered thrashing about as your body regenerated.

“I’m ok James, I’m here.” You whispered.

“Doll, don’t lie. Not to me.” He sighed and rested his forehead against yours, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“I’m alive.” You amended.

“But you’re not ok.” He said and it wasn’t a question.

“Bucky I healed, I can heal anything.” You protested.

You needed him to believe you, then maybe you could believe it yourself. You needed to convince him you were ok and then go and see Wade to work out your rage.

Because it was rage you were feeling, not fear, not pain.

“Fine, lie to me if it makes you feel better, but don’t lie to yourself.” He said.

You clenched your jaw and pushed him away.

“Just drop it alright? I said I was fine!” You snapped.

He came straight back over, ignoring your attempts to push him away and put his arms around you.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!”You shouted, struggling to get away.

“I’ve got you, it’s ok, I’ve got you.” He vowed, ignoring your futile struggling.

A traitorous sob broke free and the dam burst. You were suddenly sobbing into his chest and your legs gave out. He held onto you and lowered you to the ground gently, never letting you go as you fell apart.

You screamed and raged and cried as you remembered the fall and the unfathomable pain that came after it. Of lying there so helpless as your broken body desperately tried to put itself back together.

“It hurt Bucky, it fucking hurt.” You whimpered.

He held back his own tears as he soothed you, unable to anything except hold onto you. There was the crashing sound of the doors being flung open as Erlo hurled his body at them and ran up to you both, curling his body around yours. The lion pushed affection at you as he licked your skin, cleaning you like a newborn cub.

Eventually your sobs quieted to whimpers and Bucky picked you up, cradling you in his arms as he carried you through the corridors, Erlo walking by his side.

“Where’s my dad?” You asked softly.

Bucky didn’t answer straight away and you peered up at him.

“Looking for your... for you. We didn't know where you were after Logan called and the quinjet was in stealth mode.” He said.

“I didn't put it in stealth mode.” You told him.

“Doesn’t matter now. You’re home, you’re safe.” He assured you, or perhaps himself.

He carried you into your room and took you straight to the bathroom, setting you down gently on the side. Erlo sat at the door, watching with intelligent eyes and continuing to push waves of affection your way.

Bucky peeled the torn, blood soaked clothes off of you, ripping them where they had had dried onto your flesh.

“Shit.” He muttered and you twisted round to see what he was swearing at.

Part of the material of your shirt had gotten caught in an open wound on your back, the skin closing around it. You winced as Bucky pulled out a knife and looked at you apologetically.

“I need to get it out.” He said out loud and you nodded your agreement.

Steeling himself he ran the blade along you back and carefully pulled the shirt out. He watched as the cut closed itself before he shakily put the knife away and caressed the skin. His eyes were damp and you guiltily wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I’m so sorry.” You said quietly.

“It’s not your fault doll, I’m just glad you heal now.”

But it was your fault. You had been so determined to see that man die that you had let this happen to you. Your bloodlust was so strong that you were willing to break yourself into a thousand pieces for the chance to murder someone.

Bucky picked you up and gently placed you in the empty bathtub, turning the shower spray on and bringing the hose over.

“I can do it.” You told him, reaching for it.

“I’ve got you.” He insisted.

“I can wash myself.”

“Just... just let me take care of you. Please.”

You bit your lip and nodded. He was so gentle as he scrubbed the dried blood from your skin with the washcloth. It quickly became too bloody to be of use and a hand towel replaced it. His fingers would run over your clean skin, as if checking to make sure there were no injuries below the surface and every few moments a tender kiss was placed on your temple, your cheek, your shoulder.

The pink water swirled down the drain as he dutifully cleansed you and silent tears ran down your face at the intimacy and affection you knew you didn't deserve.

“I could have found another way, I didn’t have to fall. But if I fell then he fell and he wouldn’t heal.” You admitted, your voice echoing through the bathroom.

Bucky’s ministrations paused and you heard him swallow the lump in his throat.

“Enough. No more apologies. I know what you did and why you did it. Logan told us what that man was and what he was doing to his nephew. You wouldn’t be you if you didn't care so much. I don’t care that you killed him, I care that you got hurt doing it.”

You whimpered and pushed your face into your knees as you wept and you felt him pull you into his arms as you whispered that you were sorry, over and over again.

“Next time you want someone dead, tell me. Don’t put yourself, don’t put me through this.” He ordered you.

You’d fall a thousand times to get justice for someone like Ryan, but you couldn’t do this to Bucky again. And when you thought of Tony out there, looking for you... You couldn’t ever do this again. You wouldn’t.

He wrapped you in a towel and lifted you out of the tub, drying you with as much care as he had washed you. He disappeared for a moment and came back with a black Henley that he slipped over your head. You pulled your arms through the holes as he smoothed your wet hair back off your face and started peppering kisses across it.

“I love you.” He whispered into your skin.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and sought out his lips with your own. No matter how many times you kissed him, no matter the circumstances, it never failed to knock the breath from your lungs. Kissing Bucky felt like coming home.

As Bucky pulled away, you grabbed his shirt and yanked him back towards you. He was clearly not expecting it and steadied himself against the wall and stumbled as you wrapped your arms around him and dragged him forward into a desperate and needy kiss.

He instantly kissed you back, his mouth responding with practised ease against yours as he managed to balance himself, carefully untangling your arms from around his neck.

“This isn’t what you need doll.” He said hoarsely.

“You’re what I need.” You protested, pulling him back in for another bruising kiss.

His hand clasped the back of your neck and you felt him give into his own desire, his own need to kiss you. His hands roamed up your back, pressing you to him so tightly it almost hurt. The taste of him was salty and you pulled back as you realised he was crying.

“James?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come home, you wouldn’t come back to me.” He said, his voice wrought with pain.

“I’ll always come back, always. You are my home.” You told him, brushing the tears away with your fingertips.

“If you ever jump out of a plane without a parachute again I will hunt you down and murder you myself.” He vowed.

“That’s some weird foreplay Barnes.” You quipped and he choked out a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He sighed as he gathered you in his arms one final time so he could deposit you on the bed, wrapping a blanket around you as Erlo jumped up, making the bed creak.

“Watch her.” He instructed the lion and kissed softly before he disappeared back into the bathroom to wash your blood of himself.

You heard the shower switch on and buried your head in Erlo’s mane, curling into the warm cat. You stayed like that until Bucky came back to you and you heard him pause at the side of the bed before slowly crawling onto it. He settled behind you, spooning you and safely ensconced between the two warm bodies you drifted off into a restless half sleep.

It was a couple of hours later that the pounding footsteps of someone running down the hall broke your almost slumber. Tony burst into the room at the same time Bucky and Erlo sprung off the bed and you sat up, blinking sleepily at your father.

Seeing him made all the guilt and pain hit you full force all over again and your eyes rapidly filled up as he sat on the edge of the bed next to you and pulled you into his arms.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” He asked frantically.

You shook your head.

“Not anymore.” You said.

“She’s healed, physically.” Bucky told him.

“I’m going to kill Logan.” Tony swore.

“It wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t really do anything.” You admitted.

“I don’t care.” Tony said.

“I’ll take Erlo outside for a bit.” Bucky said and you whimpered slightly.

“We won’t go far.” He promised you.

Erlo refused to budge until Bucky growled at him and the lion shot you a wave of amusement before he padded away.

“Kit Kat, tell me the truth. Are you ok?” Tony asked when the door closed.

“Yes, I’m healed. But it wasn’t fun dad, it really wasn’t.” You laughed sadly.

Tony looked like he was going to be sick as he imagined it.

“There’s something I think I need to tell you though.” You said with a frown, trying to remember what it was.

“What is it?” He prodded.

“I hit the ground from 35,000 feet, even if I can heal I shouldn’t have been able to so easily. I was... mush basically. Someone was there, somebody put me back together so my body could fix the damage. I was nowhere near the quinjet but I woke up outside it.” You said, remembering the strange figure who had helped you.

“What? Do you have any idea who?” He asked.

“No, I saw something but my eyes and brain weren’t healed yet so I couldn’t make out who it was. Bucky said the Quinjet was in stealth mode but I didn't do that. Someone helped me but they didn’t want me to be found and they left before I woke up.”

“Who the hell would do that? Why?” Tony wondered.

“I have no idea.” You admitted.

You didn’t know who your guardian angel was or why they had helped you but it was a mystery you definitely wanted to unravel.

Tony squeezed you gently again before ushering you back into the bed.

“Get some sleep, I’m sure everyone will want to see you when you’re rested.”

“Were they worried?” You asked, frowning guiltily.

“I didn’t tell anyone, just Barnes. We didn't know where you were, what was going on. I didn’t know what to tell them.” Tony said.

You were relieved that nobody else had been needlessly worried. You curled up on the pillow and were back in the sleepy half state straight away.

“How bad was it?” You heard Tony ask Bucky quietly outside the door as you felt the bed dip as Erlo settled next to you again.

“It was really bad, the quinjet... it’s a mess. She was a mess.” Bucky said heavily.

“I can’t believe she survived that.” Tony admitted.

“But she did. She’s ok.”

“Yeah. Take care of her, let me know when she wakes up.” Tony said and you heard a clapping sound and realised that Tony must have clasped Bucky on the shoulder as he walked away.

“You’re getting along.” You murmured as Bucky got in the bed with you.

“We know you have healing abilities doll but when Logan said you’d gone out of the plane... we were afraid.” Bucky said.

You shuddered at the hidden meaning behind his words.

“I’m so sorry.” You said, turning around and cuddling up to him.

“As long as you’re here now, it’s ok.” He said, putting his arms around you.

“I’m not letting you hand around with Steve any more though, he’s a bad influence.” He threatened.

“It was one plane jump, I’m hardly Steve Roger 2.0.” You laughed.

“One plane jump, you left the country without telling me to pick a fight, you keep putting bullies in their place...” He said.

“Is this your way of telling me that deep down you want to marry Steve?” You teased.

“I’ve changed my mind, go away.” He said, shoving you away from his body.

You giggled as his resolve broke in less than two seconds and he wrapped his arms around you again.

You opened your mouth to keep teasing him but he spoke over you,

“Shut up and go the fuck to sleep or I’m telling Sam what you did.” He grumbled.

You snapped your mouth closed.

The next morning when you informed him you needed to go to The School Tony, Bucky and Erlo insisted on escorting you, none of them willing to let you out of their sights. When you pulled up at the school Ryan came running out of the doors and flung his arms around you, and you knew it was indeed worth it.

Logan came out of the doors and looked you over, letting out a sigh of relief. You nodded to him and mouthed a thanks as you held Ryan.

It didn't matter what had happened now, you had saved the boy, you were home, you were with Bucky.

Everything was going to be alright.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Some hurt/comfort because I really needed it today. I'm having some personal issues so if I disappear for a day don't worry, I haven't abandoned my writing It's just my meds putting me in a woozy mini coma but I doubt it'll get that bad.

There's one more chapter before the wedding chapters begin. Oh and new moodboard!

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first @thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala @the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes @fairislesheets @angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty @memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone @piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot @captainamericasbeard @dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews @likes-to-smell-books @drdorkus @life-wanderer @metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky @jsmith509 @chipilerendi @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @ericasabe @gravedollie666 @madlykpopfan @l0kisbitch @mywinterwolf @sassysweetstories @life-wanderer @jessieray98 @littledeadrottinghood @myfandomlife-blog @spnrvt @dahkness @sexyvixen7 @dilaila95

#hattersmarvelverse #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes

[salmonthestoryteller]

Talk to Me

I need to stop reading @roswellprompts

while trapped down in the bunker, michael and max are forced to deal with enough after all the years of pent up emotions and problems between them.

Talk to Me

A Roswell: New Mexico Fanfic

“I get it you haven’t been mad at me for ten years, you’ve been angry for twenty.”  Max accused.

Michael only groaned, moving past him farther into his bunker.

“Ever since my parents showed up and picked me. I got the family, I got the sister. You wanna talk about burdens?”

“Mm.”  Michael turned back to face him, looking unimpressed with his choice of conversation.

“I carry the guilt of that day everywhere. I pushed my own parents away because I am pissed they didn’t take care of you.”  Admitting to that wasn’t easy. He hadn’t wanted to be angry at the Evans, but every time he saw a new bruise on Michael, all he could see was that they’d left him behind.  “You are my family, Michael. Everything that happens to you, happens to me. Every beating, every burn, every damn heartbreak, you are never alone.”

Michael was tempted to let it go at that.  Speaking to Alex was one thing - Alex didn't sympathise, he emphasized.  There had been no pity in his eyes as he described his childhood. Only the pain of someone who understood - far too well - what he wasn't saying. Max was different. Had just described that difference in detail, yet at the same time didn't understand it.  Weren't cops supposed to take classes on this shit? Max had also just pointed out that they didn't really talk. So maybe it was time they did.

“I was angry about a lot of things back then.  But I was never angry that you two were safe.”

Max had started to turn away, but he turned back.  “What?”

“I spent four years not knowing.  And I only had my own experiences to draw on for what might be happening to you two.  Every night I spent hungry was haunted by the idea of you two having to share what wasn't even enough for one. Every time I was sent back it came with the thought you may have been split up after all.  Every hit, every cut, every insult was accompanied by the question of which you were experiencing.” Even saying that much to Max wasn't easy. He'd never wanted him or Isobel to know how bad things got. “So when I finally found you again, and it turned out you were safe the whole time?  I didn’t feel angry. I felt relieved.”

“You're telling me you weren't jealous?”

“Of course I was - I'm no fucking saint.  You just said it yourself. You got the family. I didn't.”

“You had Isobel.  You had me.”

“And at the end of each day, you two got to go home. I never got that.”  He shrugged at the admittance, despite the pained look on Max’s face. “Look, what you said out by Long’s farm?  About how it was Isobel and I who got you up in the morning these past ten years?”

“What about it?”

“...back then knowing I’d see you and Isobel come morning was what got me through each night.  You were literally all I had. Whatever jealousy or resentment, it wasn’t as strong as how much I… cared about you two.”  Love wasn’t a word he’d ever said. To anyone.

“Then answer me one question.”  Max faced off with him. “Why did you stop letting me heal you?  I never felt closer to you than when my handprint was on you, but you hated every moment of it.”

“Because your guilt was the strongest emotion.  Every time your damn mark was on me, it was like I couldn’t breath it was so thick.  I stopped letting you heal me, I stopped talking about what was happening because I couldn’t take it anymore.  I didn’t want to be some charity case you took care of out of guilt, Max.”

“Oh, for…!”  Max paced away, and then came back.  “I didn’t care about you because I felt guilty, Michael.  I felt guilty because I cared about you!”

“Then why wouldn’t you even look at me after the murders?  And don’t give me some bullshit about what we’d done. We thought then Isobel had committed the murders, and you never cut her out of your life.  I was innocent.”

“That’s why I couldn’t look at you!” Max snapped.  “Because you were innocent. You were the one whose hands had no blood on them. Yet both times you stood by us and covered up our crimes.  We stole whatever innocence your crappy life had left you with. Do you know how excited I was the day you told me you got that full ride to college?  That you’d finally get out, and have the life you deserved? And we ruined that too. There was nothing for you in this town - no life you could build yourself if you stayed. I couldn’t look at you without remembering that.  Without hating myself for it. You hated me for it, too, right?”

Michael looked around at the bunker they were still trapped in.  “Yah.”

Max nodded.  “Yah.”

Michael sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.  “Do you know why I took the blame for the murders?”

“To protect Isobel from the truth.”  Max stated, as if it was obvious.

“Because I didn’t think we’d get away with it.”  Michael told him.

“What?”  Max frowned.

“I figured something would come up in the autopsy.  That they’d question it. That we’d be caught. And the thought of Isobel in prison?  Knowing what would happen to her there?” Michael shook his head. “I had ten years of knowing how to deal with violence.  I figured, I could handle it. Better than Isobel. Better than you.”

“That’s why you were so quick to say it when Liz found out.  You planned it all along. From that first night.” The look Michael sent him was answer enough.  “I would never have let you do that.”

Michael gave a sarcastic huff of laughter.  “Yes, you would have. We both would have to protect Isobel.”  When silence settled over them, Michael moved to grab a test tube from one of his side areas.  “Let’s see if I can figure out what this stuff is.” He focused on the yellow powder on the table.

Fini

I was super excited when it became obvious Max and Michael were going to hash things out in this episode.  I have been dying for their reconciliation. Then Max ended a heartfelt speech where he finally called Michael family with a line - which I cut out - about being “trapped together in all sorts of ways.” Max would never suggest his connection to Isobel is a trap, so for him to equate his relationship to Michael that way ruined the positive aspects of his confession for me. It took it from, “I have always been willing to be there for you” to “I hate that I have to be here for you.” Every time I get into an okay place with Max after being mad at him for a previous action or phrase, he opens his mouth again.  Max, please just go back to being the strong, silent type.

I’m also a bit confused as to the truth about how Michael feels about the seperation.  Abandonment issues to be sure, but that was from the circumstances - not any one person’s actions. Both Isobel and Max keep saying he blames Max, or hates him for it.  But why would he blame him and not Isobel? Is he supposed to hate Max for it, or is that just Max projecting because of his own guilt? Michael told Alex he was relieved they were safe and I don’t feel that was a lie.  He also defended the Evans to Alex, when even Max says he blamed them. Given how close Max and Michael are in all the flashbacks, I just feel like the difference in their situation didn’t really create anger until after the murders - when Max and Isobel could build a life easily in Roswell but Michael couldn’t.  So, that’s the take I ran with.

And one of these days I will actually get around to a prompt about shipping. Promise.... Maybe...

#roswell nm fanfic #fanfic #michael guerin #max evans #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #prompts #i just want them to be friends #is that asking too much

[supernatural-book]

Second Chances

Title: Second Chances

Pairing: Gadreel x Reader (my first not sam, cas or dean fic!)

Word Count: 1,591

Summary: Gadreel is trying to get the boys to trust him, and while they don’t, the reader believes they should give him a second chance, and stands up for him during the conversation. Gadreel isn’t used to people seeing past his mistakes.

A/N: Hey, sorry if it’s not all following canon. It’s been a while since I watched this season, but I really wanted to try to put the reader into the show, and so this is kind of changing the canon plot. Oh well. Also, this is unedited. I’ll check in tomorrow to reread it, but I’m about to pass out.

Over your years with the boys, you've met many different people- seeing people come and go after hunts were over was part of the job, but you're never met someone quite like this angel. All the angels you have encountered, with the exception of a select few, were completely royal dicks. But this angel whose name had only recently been revealed to be Gadreel, was different.

You knew his story. After learning who he was, you sat with Cas, listening to him tell you Gadreel's whole, infamous tale. You couldn’t imagine the guilt he must feel after what happened. He’d spent thousands of years in Heaven’s prison after being tricked by Lucifer and letting him into the Garden. He’d been dishonored, and his mistake had led to Humanity being corrupted. And now, once God’s most trusted, he stood before you asking for redemption.

“You don't trust me, fine. I understand. I've...made mistakes. But haven't you? Haven't we all?” His words struck a familiar chord inside you. You have made mistakes. What were you thinking, about to deny him his chance at redemption, when you had been in his shoes before? Your arms uncrossed, your stance relaxing. He looked back and forth between the boys, and his eyes settled on you for only a moment longer. “At least give me a chance.” You exchanged glances with the boys. None of them seemed to care, but you stepped forward.

“I’ll give him a chance.” The three of the boys looked over to you in shock, as if they couldn’t believe you would even consider. Gadreel locked eyes with you, and you could feel a wave of pity wash over you. He truly meant well, you could tell.

“Really?” Dean sounded as if you had just betrayed him. It hurt you, but you believe in second chances. You turned to Dean.

“How many times have you or Sam or Cas fucked up or worked for the wrong person, and needed a second chance? Hell, even a third chance! Why is it any different now?” They boys exchanged glances.

“He lied to us. He told us his name was Ezekiel!” Dean raised his voice, and you stood taller, defending your ground.

“Of course he did! If he would have said he was Gadreel, you would have never trusted him in the first place! Sam would probably still be in the hospital! Remember when Cas lied to us? Or what about recently when you lied to Sam about what was happening in his own body? How is anything we’ve done any better than Gadreel lying about his identity?” Dean took a step towards you, furious now.

“He’s working for Metatron!”

“He was. And he wants to help us now!” You glanced at Gadreel, who nodded in response. “Think of how much help he could be. He already helped Sam get better and he resurrected Cas and Charlie for fucks sake! I think he deserves a second chance.” The boys seemed to relax, only slightly.

“What about what he did to Kevin?” Sam forced the words out. You took a shaky breath.

“Well, that I won't forgive. I can't. But I'm sure he regrets that.” Dean still didn't seem pleased with this answer. It's the mark. You told yourself. Dean would normally be more open to giving people another chance. He saw Gadreel kill Kevin, and now the only thing that matters to him is that Gadreel pays for it. “Guys, you always say you trust my guesses. It’s like, my sixth sense. So trust me this one time.” Finally, Cas stepped forward.

“I agree with (Y/N). Gadreel truly wants to do the right thing.” Silence settled in the bunker while Sam and Dean considered this. You smiled at Cas, thankful that someone was finally hearing you. It felt like another million years before Sam sighed.

“Alright, (Y/N), I’ll trust you.” You smiled, and looked over to Gadreel. He was watching you with a look of pure thankfulness in his eyes. You almost melted seeing the man who was so desperate to be redeemed that he was willing to risk his life. Suddenly, all eyes landed on Dean. He still didn’t look happy, but he took a step towards Gadreel, holding his hand out in what you assumed to be acceptance.

You assumed incorrectly.

It all happened so quickly. With Dean holding Gadreel’s hand tightly in his own, he lunged forward, revealing the First Blade. Before you could even process what was happening, there was a large gash in Gadreel’s torso, and he was stumbling back. “Dean!” Sam and Cas rushed forward to stop him from inflicting any more pain onto the angel. They held Dean back, and you cringed at the feral noises he was making. Sam looked at you and nodded in Gadreel’s direction. Knowing that Sam and Cas had Dean under control, you turned to help Gadreel, but were shocked to find out he wasn’t there. Your first instinct was to follow the bloody handprints on the wall. He must have stumbled outside, holding the cut on his chest in pain.

You picked up your pace and exited the bunker. There was no way you were letting him get away. Not after building up your trust like that.

“Gadreel!” You called as soon as you came in contact with the world outside the bunker. You heard quiet grunting and saw him leaning all of his weight onto the tree not far from the entrance of the bunker. “Gadreel.” You reached out to him, supporting him and lowering him to the ground slowly. “Cas will come out and heal you, don’t worry.” He looked up at you, his eyes full of awe, as if he couldn’t believe someone was being nice to him. After a few moments, he opened his mouth.

“Why did you come after me? Why do you trust me?” You paused, thrown off by the question. How do you answer to something like that? Here he was, lying injured in the grass and asking you to explain the reason you found a way to give him a second chance. Asking you to bear your heart to him. You sat down on the ground next to him.

“Will you be okay until the boys comes out?”

“I will.” He was obviously in pain, but there wasn’t anything you could do at the moment but wait for Cas to come out and heal him.

“Well, um, to answer your question…” You met his eyes and found it difficult to hold eye contact. “I think you really do want to help us. And I believe you deserve to redeem yourself.” He didn’t say anything, so you continued, your hand absentmindedly playing with the string of the hoodie he wore under his jacket. “I don’t think the events that you were punished for were your fault. I don’t think you deserved that.” You waited for a few moments and he still didn’t respond. He watched you in silence with soft green eyes. You couldn’t pinpoint the emotion behind them, but what you could see was surprise and a hint of awe. “Please say something.”

"You really believe I am innocent? You do realize that the blame for all of the world's sins can fall on me, do you not?”

“Well, I wasn’t there, of course. But, from what I’ve heard, it sounds like you were manipulated. So yes, I don’t think you deserved the sentence you received. The boys may not believe me, but I’ve seen you heal my friends, hell, even animals! You’re a good person, Gadreel.” He was quiet for a few moments, but this time it was different. Whereas before it was a troubled, awkward silence, this time he looked happy. “I believe in second chances..”

“(Y/N).” You took in the way his lips pronounced your name, realizing it was the first time he had spoken directly to you. “I am wholeheartedly thankful.” He spoke with the same polite, serious tone he’d always used, but there was something different there. Something more intimate. As if there was a friendship sparking between you two already, as if you had finally gotten him to open up to you, as if he felt like someone finally cared for him. It was sad to think about, but after thousands of years in prison, he must have lost faith in himself. He must have come out craving redemption, and had forgotten what it feels like for someone else to finally care about him. “Now I promise you, I will not let you down.” You smiled.

“Good.” Before you could say anything else, Cas and Sam came out. Cas kneeled next to Gadreel and reached out to heal the injured angel.

“No. Your Grace. Healing me will only weaken you.” Gadreel pleaded. You smiled. You were right, and almost felt like turning to Sam and saying ‘See? He is good.’ But for now, you’d just keep it to yourself. You gave Gadreel a hand and helped him to his feet, and he lent you a smile smile in appreciation. It warmed your heart to see him show happiness. Ever since you’d known him, he seemed to only think about redemption, honor, and the mistakes he made. You were glad you were able to lift the weight from him. There was so much more you wanted to tell him, so much more you wanted to teach him about human customs, so much more you wanted to do with him. But unfortunately, there were more important things at hand right now. Maybe tomorrow you’d hold his hand more. Even give him a hug.

You smiled. Yeah, tomorrow.

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Taglist!

@thecurlyhairedwinchester, @solis200213, @music-lockscreen, @bella-ca, @totally-not-gadreel (here ya go!)

#tomorrow he dies #woops #spoilers? #first gadreel fic! #supernatural x reader #spn #gadreel #gad #supernatural #x reader #reader insert #gadreel x reader #gadreel x you #gadreel x y/n #imagine dragons #songfic

[kangaroo-r00]

Two-Way Mirror

You were brighter than all the stars in the night sky, shining with unfaltering brilliance. Covered in bruises, scrapes, and cuts, you never let anything get you down. You loved making friends.

You never stopped talking, content with the fact that nobody listened to you all the time. They would tell you to be quiet but you  would continue to chatter away at whatever topic has gotten you so intrigued.

You were so resilient. So fearless and curious and compassionate. It seemed as if you could conquer the world and harm nobody in the process. You were so unconditionally  joyful.

I wonder what you would think of me now...

Whenever did you delude yourself with the thought that nobody cared? Whenever did you stop talking? When did that wonderful little spark burn up and die out? I wish I could breathe life into it for you.

Tell me when that day was, little one, and I will go back and fix it for us. Oh, how hurt you were. Did you cry? Or were you totally numb? Was it the day he said he wished he had never had children with Mom?

(“I was so fucking stupid to have kids with Theresa.”)

Tell me who was the culprit? Who ripped your heart out and crushed it beneath their heel? I have a feeling I know who it was. I will go and make him pay for what he did to us. But you would not want that.

(“Control your emotions.”)

How you bottled them up tight until they burst like those geysers you always watched on tv with wide, wondrous eyes. You only got in trouble for following that advice. Red handprints that lingered.

Oh, how I wish I could take all your pain away. I wish I could play with you, let your imagination soar as high as the eagles you admired. I wish I could hold you close and whisper how much I loved you.

In the end, you only clipped your own wings and grounded yourself. Now I suffer the consequences of your actions. I forgive you though. I always will. You were only a child; you did not know any better.

We both suffered a lot through our short life. We are still suffering. But now we’re picking up the pieces and putting ourself back together. The glass cuts the pads of our fingers but we ignore the sharp stinging.

It still hurts, does it not? Crystals fall from our long lashes and form new shards of glittering glass to clean up. Choking gasps burn our lungs. It is okay to cry; he lied to us. That’s all he is. A fucking liar.

I hear you gasp at the naughty swear. Need I remind you that you were unable to pronounce truck right? You said it all the time. Now that you know it is a bad word, it was suddenly wrong to say.

They are just words, love. It is all they will ever be. The spoken, unspoken, written... Yet words hold power over our heads. You see this in our stories and poems. They only control us if we let them.

It is hard to heal—to meticulously place each piece back into the incorrect places and pretend it looks the same as before. It will never look the same with those spiderwebbed cracks.

You need not apologize to me. I am the one sorry for letting the world get to us when we should be invincible. I will cup your cheeks, kiss your forehead, and stare into those bright eyes.

You have suffered far too much for a child. Now let me take care of you and carry you along with me to watch all our dreams come true. It is what you deserve, little doodlebug. You and I both. It will be okay.

I promise. Tag list: @melasong, @writerwithdepression, @normallyemma, @kitnkas, @iris-the-asparagus, @here-be-becquerel, @maybalator (tell me if you want to be added to the taglist)

I know not my normal thing but it’s... very important to me...

#roux's poetry dump #we will both walk hand in hand #laughing as we skip into the future #i love you dearest one

[welcome-to-the-spiral]

Choke Part 4

I hope you guys are happy with suffering bc that’s all you’re getting here. Also, the firstborn will be Blackbean and the second born will be Billbert

Shiro smiled at him, his eyes yellow and teeth jagged and sharp. His robotic hand was flared to life, the brightness of the purple light seemingly paired with the pain. Lance had the awful, horribly wrong feeling of his skin melting around Shiro’s hand, melting like iron heated in a forge, except this was flesh and muscle and he could feel the nerves exploding to life with each second. Shiro’s smile widened to an impossible size, his teeth so sharp, his eyes amused and yellow and inhuman. Lance could only taste blood and fear and bile, his neck collapsing in on itself from the pressure of Shiro’s arm, and as everything exploded and his vision darkened, panic was the only thing Lance could comprehend. He was dying. Lance was dying. No, no, no no n-

Lance bolted upright in his bed, pain flaring to life from the throbbing headache that he had carried with him out of the beating. The pain, however, mattered very little to Lance as pure, unbridled panic filled him and he ripped his blanket off him, the feeling of its once-comforting weight now suffocating.

“Lance! It’s just me. I- uh- Hunk was getting a rest. Lance? Lance are you okay?” Keith- that was Keith’s voice, even though Lance could only see his outline in the dim room. The fair amount of panic in Keith’s voice was amusing enough the terror that had filled Lance only moments previously began to dissipate.

“Y- yeah, I’m fine.” Lance whispered, and Keith heaved a sigh of relief. “Can… Can you turn the lights on?” Lance added, his voice somehow much quieter and more tentative than previously.

“Yeah of course. Let me just-” the lights flicked on as Keith trailed off, and for a moment Lance was blinded before his eyes adjusted. Keith stood awkwardly at the control panel for Lance’s room, sporting a black eye where Shiro had slammed his knee into the former Red Paladin’s face.

“I’m sorry.” Lance croaked, and Keith’s hand lifted to his eye for a moment before he shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry for this. That’s on Shiro. He did that.” Keith hissed, and Lance flinched at the name before looking away.

“Still. He did it because you were trying to protect me. I was stupid. I thought I could help him.” Lance whispered, eyes on the floor. He was too ashamed at his stupid, stupid fear of one man to look at Keith. Too ashamed of how he had been stupid enough to think he could help the Black Paladin after everything.

“Lance- look. You did. You helped him. Shiro- he was being controlled by Haggar. They’re trying to fix that now. But you broke the connection. You did that.” Keith said, and Lance shook his head.

“No I didn’t, Keith. Sh… He never really cared about me, Keith. I was just the Blue Paladin, and then I was just the stand-in for you.” Before Keith could interrupt him, Lance waved his hand in dismissal. “It doesn’t matter if it’s true, Keith. That’s what he saw me as. And he didn’t give a single shit about me until I mentioned you. Hell, you coming down and facing him probably was the only thing that broke the connection.”

Keith shook his head. Lance watched the former Red Paladin pace around the room for a moment before stopping suddenly and coming to sit next to Lance.

“I was there Lance. I know what I saw. I know when the connection broke. It was when you showed him your sc- you know… Your neck.” Keith trailed off. It was almost funny, if it hadn’t been a visceral reminder of the scars that would forever ring his neck, and the ghost pain that was brought with it. Keith was sure of his point, he knew he was right, and Lance couldn’t deny what they had both seen, but… He also didn’t know how to talk about Lance’s scars, and the etiquette of talking about trauma with Lance.

Keith was basically Shiro’s brother, but Shiro… He dealt with trauma, with pain, much differently than Lance. Shiro repressed everything for the sake of his team. Lance knew this because the many times he woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares of battles and death previous to Shiro disappearing, he had almost always found Shiro downing a bottle of space vodka in some new and strangely secluded corner of the castle. It was during those brief moments Lance and Shiro would meet eyes, the fresh pain and horror in Shiro’s eyes enough to tell Lance exactly what Shiro was thinking of, that Lance would give Shiro whatever blanket he had grabbed from the lounge that night and then leave, because he knew Shiro wouldn’t talk to him, and he knew Shiro was already too drunk to remember those nights anyways.

Lance, on the other hand… Lance bled. Lance screamed and cried and bled from the pain and horror. Lance didn’t know how to cope. Lance would pass it off as jokes and laugh his suffering into a game if it meant helping someone else. Lance would rip his trauma out of whatever dark corner he hid it in if it meant healing another person. Lance valued every other person alive infinitely more than himself, so it was second nature to sacrifice his mental and physical health for them. Even if it meant death. Shiro repressed and Lance made his pain into a joke to be laughed at. That is, after all, what he viewed himself as.

Lance stared into nothing for a long time, his eyes telling of what he was thinking about. The scar. He had seen it once. He had seen the handprint that was branded onto his neck forever.

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, Keith,” Lance finally said, “it’s a scar. A brand.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or that you do.” Keith replied, and Lance sighed. Silence filled the room, and Lance’s hands found his neck as he felt the bumps and indents tentatively.

“I can still feel it.” Lance said quietly, his voice almost loud in the silence. Keith looked at him in confusion for a moment, before realization- and horror- filled his eyes.

“I didn’t realize at first what it was. Just pain. But now I know. He melted through my skin, Keith. I can still feel his hand on my neck, the heat. It was so hot, I thought he’d melt through my esophagus. I can still-” He cut himself off as he noticed the horror in Keith’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No. There’s nothing for you to apologize for. Nothing.” Keith urged, and Lance looked over at Keith in shock. “I’m sorry that happened. To you. It’s hard for me to imagine Shiro doing that because I… Well, I always saw him as my brother.”

“Keith… I… He’s still him. It wasn’t really.... Him who hurt me.” Lance began, his eyes falling to the floor. “I can’t… I know, logically, that it wasn’t him. It was Haggar. But to me, it was still him. It’s still his handprint branded onto my neck. It was his eyes- sorry… What I mean is even though it was him to me, that doesn’t mean it was him. Haggar was controlling him. And she was smart. She was damn smart, because she knew it would destroy the trust between us. But that doesn’t mean it has to destroy your trust. You still have a relationship with him. You can still trust him.”

“I want to. I want to trust him again. But… I saw what he did. I know it wasn’t Shiro, but… How am I supposed to trust him knowing he tried to kill you?” Keith finally asked, and Lance looked over at Keith in confusion.

“Keith, he’s more important than I am. He’s the Black Paladin.” Lance whispered, and Keith shook his head.

“And you’re the Red Paladin.” Keith countered. Lance chuckled, the sound broken. So fucking broken.

“I’m the stand-in for the Red Paladin.” Lance corrected, and Keith stared at Lance for a long time.

“No. You don’t get to say that. You never get to fucking say that. You are worth so much to the team- to me. You are so damn important. I’m not going to sit here and listen to you say that you’re worth nothing. You’re the stability of this team. You’re the soul. We need you. I need you.” Keith snarled, his voice so strong, so firm in his belief that Lance couldn’t help but stare at Keith, mouth slightly agape. And then he was hugging Keith, his head buried deep into the deep red sweatshirt Keith was wearing, his arms gripping Keith like he was a lifeline. The former Red Paladin stared down at Lance in shock for a long moment before returning the hug.

“Never say you’re a stand-in again. Promise me.” Keith murmured after a long moment, and Lance nodded.

“I promise.” Lance replied, his voice muffled by Keith’s sweatshirt.

The two stayed that way for a long time.

... for a long time, because they’re gay. Yeah there wasn’t much action but I feel like Lance deserves at least one break. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  

Buy Me a Coffee - Fic Masterpost - June 8 Update Fic Options

#langst #lance #lance mcclain #langst mcpain #langst vld #lance vld #klance #klance vld #keith #keith kogane #keith vld #vld #voltron #hunk vld #shiro vld #choke fic

[misrihalek]

This will be the last post I write on this subject. It’s very possible that you won’t see this, but the potential that you might is good enough for what I have to do. 

Hey Rita. I got your email. 

I’m glad to hear that you’re still doing your best in spite of the bullshit that life has thrown at you: maybe one day you’ll finally track down Murphy and wring his scrawny fucking neck like he deserves. I really do hope that things get better for you and wish you the best of luck in getting the fuck out of Hungary before things get too bad. 

I’m...yeah, still doing my tertiary education. I’m in a new city away from the family and I’m doing my best to work on myself and my ability to be independent now that I have the chance. I’m trying to write more, I’m learning Hungarian through Duolingo, I’m slowly learning how to drive and I’m growing a nice little medusa chili plant on the porch. I’m doing pretty good! 

...I’m not making this post just to witter about myself though. You deserve to know what’s been going through this big stupid head of mine, probably more so than anyone else on this planet. 

There’s this...little voice at the back of my head. You may very well have one too. It’s a voice that tells me that I should try and see you, that reminds me of how happy I was when I was with you and tries to tell me that there’s a chance to get that happiness again. It sneaks its way into my words and actions and I have to sate it in order to keep it still, otherwise it’ll drive me insane. 

I mentioned learning Hungarian earlier and my rationale was that I might as well pick up the rest of the language to develop my linguistic skills (I’m hoping to learn Māori at some point as well for my course), but deep down I know that the voice is saying “You should learn it in case you see her again”. All the lengthy stupid paragraphs that I’ve written for you have the voice’s sticky handprints on them promising some sort of vague hope and, even now, I know what it’ll be responsible for within this very bit of writing. But that comes later. 

I miss you, Rita. I miss talking to you, laughing with you, listening to music with you - everything. No-one in this goddamn universe has ever made me as happy as you did and so many things just remind me of you. But, well...I can’t ignore what happened. You hurt me pretty bad and this sort of hurt takes some time to properly go away, time that I have not had enough of yet. That little voice desperately wants me to reach out to you, but every time I see a message from you my chest starts to ache and my thoughts start to spiral all the way back down to that bleakness of 2020.

And so I push you away. Sometimes I wonder how you’ve been, sometimes I miss you, but I know that I’d be risking my own wellbeing if I didn’t keep my distance. “Time heals all wounds” they say, but they don’t specify how bloody long it takes: all I know is that it’s not done yet and it won’t ever be done if I keep picking at the scabs. 

...I don’t hate you. Maybe you think that I do and there’s a bitter part of me that wonders if all this would be easier if I did, but I don’t. I know that you’re a goddamn good person (maybe one of the best) and I do not blame or begrudge you for making the choice that you made, regardless of what happened. I don’t regret loving you in the slightest and I refuse to let you shoulder all the blame for how things shook out: we each made our own mistakes and it’s up to us to recognize them and learn from them going forward. Even in my darkest moments, I have never been able to hate you. 

But I do have to keep my distance. I have to keep myself safe and heal. And so, well, here we are. 

With any luck that tells you everything you need to know. I did my best to be honest and open and I’m hoping that this unwieldy spiel can give you some measure of closure before the book slams shut: goodness knows you deserve it after all that’s happened. I guess all that’s left is to wish you luck and tell you to take care.

...goddamn stupid little voice. Alright, alright. 

There is one last thing: I may not know exactly when Time's done with his slow-ass healing, but my bachelor’s goes for approximately another 3 years and 9 months. Once that’s done and I’m officially able to be a social worker...I can’t promise anything, but maybe we can talk then. I think that’d be good. 

Viszlát~

#...

[myselfinserts]

“She’s a dynamite bitch and she’s the best. She’s my hero.“

The entire building was shaking. They could hear the fightingcoming from below. The screams. The frost was filling the room slowly. Clementknew they wouldn’t have long before Suellen’s brother came for them. He had toact fast.

Time wasn’t on his side.

“Here, give me a hand.” He started tying the sheetsto the end of the bed, end to end. “We’re gonna climb out.”

Suellen tilted her head, brows furrowed. “How? There’sno window big enough for us.”

Clem smiled. “The frost. It’s my cousin’s. Chances areshe’s made the building brittle. Meaning…” He walked over and picked up achair, tossing it at the far wall. The wall shattered, filling the room withcold air, snow, and cherry blossoms. “Freedom! Come on, hurry and help.”

“I can’t.” Suellen looked at her feet, shaking.“Simon will never stop hunting me down. He’s desperate to have me. Hecan't…he can’t bring people out of the mirrors like I can. He’s one way. I’monly recently two ways.”

“…Suellen.” He knelt beside her, taking her handsin his. “I promise you, if you follow me out that hole, you will neverhave to live with your brother again. He will never chase after you. He will nolonger be in your life. I swear. You follow me, you’ll have the life youdeserve.”

Silence. Sharp wind. Slight taste of salt from the tearsforming in his eyes as he tried to keep his eyes open. They had to hurry ifthey wanted to go.

And he wasn’t going to leave without her.

“Suellen…please…”

Hesitantly, she reached out for his hand. “…Okay. I’llgo.”

Clem smiled. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Karane struggled to stand, her legs aching horribly as theycontinued to crack. She was running on empty. Her clones growing weaker. Shewas thirsty. Hungry. Tired. Out of blood. Her pigtails were caked in muck and dirt from heropponent’s quirk. Some villainess in a bunny suit who could grow carrotsinstantly from the ground.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this, kid,” thevillainess said, walking toward her with a newly grown root. “But Einion’sgonna kill me if I don’t buy him time. He already killed my sister. I can’t diehere. I promised her.”

“But do you have to kill me?” Karane coughed.“He’s gonna leave you behind, right? Does he have to know?”

The villainess shook her head. “He always finds histarget. He’ll rewrite the world in his image.” She raised the carrot overher head. “I’m sorry. But people like you don’t belong in that world. WhatI’m doing is a mercy.”

“…Same here.”

With a deep breath, Karane’s shell finally cracked away, armsand legs replaced with her insect like appendages. Her jaw shell fell away,revealing the rest of her pincers and needles. With a sharp jump, she leaptover the villainess, slicing the carrot as she moved. She didn’t even bother toturn back to face her, instead hurrying toward the center of the room, whereKumamaru was struggling to fight off a couple of smaller goons. Harper wasrunning around, slapping every enemy in the face and causing a giant bluehandprint with yellow polka dots to appear on their faces.

One of the villains appeared behind the bear, a gun raisedand ready to fire.

“GET AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND!”

The villains looked up, eyes wide in fear before runningaway. Kumamru shifted back to his usual form, cuts all across him. Harper fellto their knees, panting heavily as they tried to breathe. It was clear they’doverdone it. All three of them had. And the villainess was coming right atthem. With a man who looked half-dragon not far behind.

They were doomed.

“You kids are so grounded.”

All the pain Karane was feeling was fading away fast. Shelooked around, noticing Atsuko and Les running over to them, bandages in hand.As the two set to work looking after them, Karane’s eyes rested upon theheroine with the reflective mask staring down the villains.

“Lady Lazarus?”

Lady L smiled, giving her a reassuring nod. “Leave thesetwo to me. You’ve all done well. Rest now.”

Karane nodded, watching as her favorite hero quickly ran atthe villains. The villainess went down fast, ending up pinned under the carrotshe had re-grown as she clawed at her throat. The dragon-man didn’t seem to bephased, merely coughing slightly, a little blood trickling down his lip.

“You should run if you want to live,” he said.“I wouldn’t want to rough you up like I did my favorite prisoner. God, Ilove how he screamed.”

“Sorry Mr. Drake,” L snickered. “I’m not goingdown easy. But Ceri sends his regards.”

Karane couldn’t pull her eyes away, watching as Lady L dodgedand ran around Drake in attempts to disorient him. She hadn’t even noticed thesalt on her lips until a gentle hand rested on one of her appendage. Sheglanced down, smiling softly as Kumamaru stared up at her.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he groaned.

“Hey.” She leaned down, giving him a slight nosenudge. “You alright?”

Atsuko looked over at the door, nodding before continuingwith the bandages. “My mom’s here. He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Harper sighed. “But L won’t. It tookCeri nearly a year of pent up anger and fear to even get close enough toscratch out that guy’s eye when he was our age. And he’s shaking off L’s pain trade like it’snothing.”

Mither pulled out her kit, making quick work of some of Kumamaru’s worse injuries. “L used a lot of it on the other villains getting us this far. Phoenix is off closing the perimeter so the villains can’t escape, and Renegade’s off with Eraserhead and Vlad King to find Clem.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

“On it already,” Les said, sending several lit cherry bombs flying toward Drake’s head. They all exploded on impact, temporarily blinding him. “Doesn’t seem to be working though. He’s still keeping L at a distance.”

Karane closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “There’s got to be a way to increase her pain output.”

“Not without hurting yourselves.”

“I got it!” She looked at Mither, eyes wide in excitement. “Can you keep the storm going?

Mither narrowed her eyes. “No self-harm.”

“I’m not going to hurt me.” Karane looked over at the villainess, who was no longer writhing in pain and about to regrow another battle root, pressing a button on her wristband that she assumed was calling reinforcements. “But we can attack her. And anyone else that comes into the room.”

Harper gave a delighted cackle. “You. I like you.” They stood up, bouncing on their toes as they spun the bats in their hands. “Alright, I can go for another round. Always hated carrots. More of a spinach kid myself.”

“I’ll try to slow down Drake from here,” Les said. “And anyone else that attacks. If I get their feet, they’re easy targets.”

Karane nodded. “Well Mither?”

Mither looked between the kids before letting out a sigh. “Fine. But no vital areas. Any broken limbs…I’ll take full responsibility.”

“Okay. On our signal, drop the storm for a moment.” She looked to Harper, pincers wiggling slightly. “Mind if I take a bite?”

Harper held out their arm, allowing Karane to take just enough blood. Once she had her fill, and was sure Harper wasn’t going to pass out, she sent them after the “carrot wielding bitch”, as they put it. She stood up, letting the clones start to drop to the floor as she hurried over to L and Drake. 

Lady Lazarus jumped back from a claw, not even turning to see her. “Get back kid.”

“We’re getting you a boost, sensei,” Karane said. “Mither gave permission. And I wanna see if I can get a bite of that dragon.”

“That so?” L gave a small shrug. “Who am I to argue with the nurse?”

the two jumped apart as the tail came down, cracking at the floor. L focused on the front, managing to run up and get a kick in before hurrying away. She did this many times, occasionally pulling out a survival knife to try and get a mark in. Karane went around him, crawling about and managing to miss getting hit with a few fireballs. The clones were rushing the exit, attacking anyone that came close. Harper didn’t take long to break the leg of the carrot bitch. 

“You women are annoying,” Drake hissed. “I have to go, and you’re in the way.”

An opening!

Karane leaped at Drake, latching onto his back and shooting her pincers into his neck. He screamed, trying hard to shake her off, but she didn’t budge. She burrowed deeper, sucking as much as she could. This villain was too dangerous to not incapacitate. 

“Die you fucking cockroach!”

Just as she had pulled her pincers out, Willis Drake fell backwards, landing right on top of her and nearly crushing her. Her body was mostly unharmed, but the pain in her limbs was too much. She knew something was broken. And the blood she’d had felt like poison, burning her insides painfully. When he lifted off her, she could barely twitch. Karane glanced around, just barely able to make out Harper breaking the last of the villainess’s limbs out the corner of her eye. 

She could hear Kumamaru screaming for her. 

“It hurts,” she muttered. “But…I’ll live…” She took a deep breath and managed to scream. “NOW MITHER!”

The salt vanished. The winds eased for barely a second. But it was all the second L needed. Karane felt the pain leave her, and soon L was running at Drake, throwing her knife into his shoulder before trading the pain. 

Karane closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see what L had done. The sound was more than enough to know the man would probably die soon.

Soon, the salt came back, and Karane could feel many hands putting her body back in place. Voices trying to reach her. A hand on her cheek. 

“Did we win?” she asked softly. 

“You did so good honey,” Kumamaru whimpered. “Mither’s gonna heal you up and then I’ll carry you out of here, okay? We need to get you to the ambulances.”

Mither nodded. “You did great, Karane.” 

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Kumamaru stared at Mither, eyes filling with tears. “She’s a dynamite bitch and she’s the best. She’s my hero. She has to be alright. You gotta make sure she’ll be alright.”

“Relax, sugar. She will be fine.” She paused. “Did you ever pick a hero name, Karane?”

Karane looked up, surprised. “I…I did but…I never told anyone. Never thought I’d end up a hero.”

Lady Lazarus smiled. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Karane Saikin.”

“No. Your name. Who do I owe thanks to for coming up with that pain gathering plan? Who are you, Hero?”

“Me? Hero?” Karane smiled. “I’m Skeletal Heroine: Lady Bones.”

“It was great to fight along side you, Lady Bones.”

The world started to fade away, but Karane didn’t mind. She was tired. She was thirsty. She knew she was in a hell of a lot of trouble. 

And yet, she was still happy. 

“Rest now, Lady Bones. You earned it.”

#myselfinserts #mybnhaocs #friends ocs #the au of class #days of future class #in which Karane overdoes it #but it keeps a certain someone from having to stab herself #so I suppose it was a good plan #careful because lots of bone breaking and stabbing in this #and some blood drinking and a scene where I'll leave it to you to imagine #Anonymous