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purplefrogg · 3 years

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happy birthday tommy

summary: just birthday traditions with tommy tubbo and ranboo

a/n: first fic enjoy‼️

tommy was finally 17. all day he had been going around, telling everyone it was his birthday, and how he was an even bigger man now.

most of them just laughed along with him, wishing him a happy birthday. punz and sapnap challenged him, saying if he was really a big man, he should fight them in a 1v1. jokingly of course, tommy agreed before calling them both bitches and walking away.

his next stop was snowchester, where his best friends tubbo and ranboo lived. they both knew it was his birthday of course, but he still wanted to go visit. just to make sure they remembered.

they did. they also remembered the tradition of “birthday tickles” tommy had started when they were kids, and never remembered come time of his birthday. they thought it was funny, it was like a little surprise gift he got every single year. tommy was extremely ticklish, but very few people knew about it. at least that’s what he liked to think. truth was most people knew, as it was pretty obvious. he always flinched at the slightest of touch, even if it was nowhere near any of his weak spots.

after following the path tubbo had created, tommy walked up to tubbos house, practically kicking the door in.

“GUYYYYS THE BIG MAN HAS ARRIVED,” he shouted, scaring both ranboo and tubbo, who weren’t ready for him to burst in the way he just had.

“hey big man! happy birthday!” tubbo said, walking over and hugging his friend. tommy looked down at the smaller boy.

“happy birthday tommy,” ranboo said, his usual monotone voice, sounding a bit more joyful than usual.

“thanks guys! i am a big man now did you know? i’m 17 which means i can get married and have a wife now,” tommy said, prompting a small laugh from the two.

“let’s go do something! everyone else here is boring, they all told me to go away after a while but i know you guys are ma friendsss. you guys will hang out with me right?”

they both looked at each other knowingly, before looking back at tommy and nodding. tommy smiled and walked out of their house, starting to walk away. he did this a lot, just left without saying anything, expecting them to follow him and know where he wanted to go. tubbo and ranboo both followed, walking behind tommy and following him around.

he didn’t actually go anywhere, he just walked around snowchester, messing with different things and exploring the mansion.

they spent the rest of the day walking around, tommy talking to everyone, tubbo and ranboo following not far behind.

when tommy had enough, they ended up going back to tubbos house to hang out just the three of them. they didn’t get to many chill days, considering the other people around them. luckily since dream had been put in prison it had been easier, but still difficult since they all had other things they were working on.

they had visited michael, and were now downstairs in the main part of the house, talking to each other about random things.

“so tommy, how was your birthday?” tubbo asked. before tommy could answer, ranboo butted in.

“well the days not over yet,” ranboo said, looking in between the other two. tubbo nodded his head.

“ohhh yeahhhh.”

“what?” tommy asked, a confused look plastered on the boys face.

“did you seriously forget? again?” tubbo asked.

“you’re worse than me!” ranboo laughed. a look of realization, made its way to tommys face, and he started to slowly move away from the two of them, trying to negotiate his way out of this.

“guhuys come on. arent wehe a little old to continue this silly little tradition?”

“we weren’t too old on my birthday,” tubbo said back, walking towards tommy. ranboo did the same, trailing only a few inches behind tubbo.

“or mine.”

“yeheah but that’s different!” tommy said. he would never admit it to them, but he secretly enjoyed when they did this.

“no it’s really not, ranboo can you grab him before he runs.”

and with that ranboo grabbed tommy by the arms, holding them above his head as he continued to giggle.

“guhuys plehease.”

tubbo poked at his side, soliciting a small shriek from the blonde boy. tommy tried to get away, twisting and squirming in any direction he could, but he was trapped.

“hmmm, ranboo where should i go first?” tubbo spoke, a playful tone taking over his normal, calm one.

“i don’t know, maybe here,” ranboo said, poking at tommys underarms. tommy tried to pull his arms down, but ranboos grip was too strong.

“nohoho tubbo, guhuys really i mean do we need to doho thHIS-“ tommy was cut off by tubbo starting to wiggle his fingers in his underarms. tommys giggles became louder, and he started to squirm a lot more.

“fuhuck yohou!”

“that’s not very nice!” tubbo said, changing his pace, now drilling his fingers into the boys underarms, and moving them up and down to just above his rib cage.

“TUHUBOHO” tommy yelled, his giggles turning into laughter as tubbo continued this for a few minutes. tommy ended up sliding down to the floor, unable to stand any longer. this made things easier for tubbo and ranboo though.

“ranboo would you like a turn?” tubbo said, as he slowed down, now just lightly running his fingers along tommys sides. tommy fell back into soft giggles again at the change in pace.

“sure,” ranboo said, switching places with tubbo, who was now holding tommys arms above his head.

ranboo started right where tubbo left off, slowly running his finger up and down tommys sides.

“rahanboo plehease,” tommy whined. ranboo chuckled to himself before speaking.

“you see tommy normally i would listen to you, but you haven’t told us to stop once! you must be really having fun right now,” ranboo teased.

“shut the fuhuck uhup. noho im nohot,” tommy replied. of course he was, but once again he’d never admit that outloud.

“mhm, sure, then why haven’t you told us to stop?” tommy tried to think of an answer but before he could he was cut off again. “exactly.”

before anythjng else could be done, ranboo began squeezing at tommys sides and tubbo starting to wiggle his fingers at tommys underarms again.

tommy immediately broke out into a fit of laughter.

“GUHAHUYS PLEHEHEASE! I HAHATE YOHOU!” tommy shouted. tubbo and ranboo started to laugh along, amused at the boys reactions. every year they did this, and every year tommys reactions just got better.

ranboo switched from squeezing at his sides, to scratching at his belly, which provoked an even bigger reaction.

tommy was now thrashing around on the floor, “trying” to escape the feeling. his laughter had gone horse, and he was still trying to get his arms down.

sensing that he had nearly reached his limit, tubbo and ranboo slowed down. tubbo just tracing shapes along the boys collar bones, and ranboo starting to run his fingers up and down his sides again.

tommy calmed down, his laughter calming back down to giggles. eventually the two stopped, allowing tommy to fully catch his breath. they watched as he rolled over onto his side, curling up a bit looking at the two of them.

“you guys are dicks,” he said, once he had finally caught his breath.

“you love us,” tubbo said, smiling and poking tommys leg. tommy shot him a funny look, before looking at ranboo.

“this guy,” he said pointing at tubbo, prompting a small laugh from ranboo.

for the rest of the night until they eventually fell asleep, the three of them spent their time talking and laughing, having fun like the kids they really were.

#lee!tommyinnit #ler!tubbo #ler!ranboo #tickle fic

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pastelwitchling · 4 years

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This (very late) prompt is courtesy of Anonymous.

I am in love with your writing and I just could not get this prompt out of my head and I thought you would be perfect to write it. Something with Alex looking miserable and Michael (as the friend he is to Alex now) asking him what’s wrong and Alex hesitating at first but then eventually telling Michael about the bad date he was on where he was rejected due to his leg. I would just love to have some Michael comforting Alex and reassurring him that he is beautiful inside and out even with the leg

***

Michael wished he could say he was being mature about this. But the truth was he really, really wasn’t. He sat in the bunker with his legs crossed over the desk, counting the minutes as they passed, his fingers tapping against his arm to the seconds.

Some might say that Michael had found any excuse to go see Alex at his cabin at the same time he’d heard from Liz that the airman would be leaving for a date. Alex had been startled to see him, but had been as gracious and polite as ever. He reacted no differently than he might have if it was Max that had gone to see him.

Michael shut his eyes. What was the good in thinking of that now? Alex had been out on a date. For hours. Michael had files to look through. He didn’t care if Alex was out with some other guy. In fact, he hoped the airman was having the time of his life. (Except, of course, that that was a lie, and the darker part of Michael secretly hoped Alex hated having gone out at all.)

When the bunker door opened, Michael very pointedly did not stand. Alex was faced ahead, his expression a mixture of disturbed, tired, and unreadable as it always was when he stepped in here. Michael wanted to study the look, decipher the kind of night the airman had had, but he couldn’t afford to be caught staring.

“Oh, hey,” he very casually said after what he felt was the proper waiting time. “How was your date?”

“Fine. Did you ever look over the 1950 file?”

Michael blinked.

“Uh – yeah, I did. Nothing conclusive.”

He knew he and Alex weren’t best friends, but he had thought they were both going to make an effort to talk about this stuff. Admittedly, Michael thought being shot in the foot was a lot more merciful than hearing about Alex’s dates, but he wanted to be the kind of person Alex could talk to. He had to be. How would he ever win Alex back if the airman couldn’t confide in him?

“Did you… have fun?”

“Mhm.”

Michael tapped his finger against his file. “Where’d you go?”

“Movies.”

“You get cold?”

“Nope.”

“What movie did you watch –”

“Are you done?” Alex finally said. He was smiling, as if amused, but there was an unmistakable weariness in his voice. He nudged his chin at the files on the table in front of Michael. “Don’t you have something more important to think about than my date?”

Michael stared. If it had been anyone else, he might’ve gone back to reading, might’ve shrugged it off, but this… this was Exhausted-Alex. The kind of Alex Michael only saw when the airman was disappointed, and was trying not to show it. Something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” Alex hummed, typing away at some complex coding as he kept his back turned to Michael.

Michael considered Alex’s behavior as he considered everything that mattered; reasonably and logically. It was not a method he used often, but Alex was upset. If ever his unused genius was needed, it was now.

He stared at Alex as the equations and theories ran through his head in an instant. “Alex,” he tried, his voice low. “Did he… not show up?”

Alex’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, and just as Michael was telling himself that he’d cracked the code, that he’d kill whoever decided to stand Alex up, and then questioned the irony that made him want to kill someone for not dating the airman, Alex turned his chair.

His head was tilted, his eyes on the floor, his hands folded between his legs. He leaned back in his chair with a long sigh, and to Michael’s surprise, he didn’t seem angry or annoyed. He was just… sad.

“He showed up,” Alex said, then cleared his throat. “Then, uh, he left.”

Michael raised a brow, his thumb digging against his arm. “Oh?”

Alex nodded, and said nothing else. He wasn’t completely here, Michael realized. He was still reliving whatever had happened on his date. Michael used the airman’s distraction to look him over. He had no hickeys, his clothes didn’t look rumpled, his hair looked windswept, but not as if someone had run their hands through it. His cheeks weren’t red, but instead he looked like he was going to be sick, despite the small smile at his lips that looked anything but genuine.

It was as Michael looked him over that he noticed Alex’s hands weren’t folded. The airman was subtly pressing his fingers into his right leg as if it ached. Michael stared. He showed up. Then he left.

Oh.

When he looked up at Alex, he saw the airman looking back at him. Michael hated this. He had thought he wanted Alex to have a terrible time, but he hadn’t wanted anything like this. He wanted a bad kisser, he wanted annoying jokes, the more selfish part of him wanted a, ‘He’s not you, Guerin.’ But this was the worst thing that could’ve happened, this was something that could’ve killed Alex, this…

Michael stood. “I’ll kill him.”

“Guerin,” Alex shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, what’d he say to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” he said, as if that was supposed to comfort Michael. Instead, it made him nauseous. “It’s fine, it’s okay. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Alex –”

“You only say my name when you’re mad at me,” Alex muttered, as if to himself, and huffed a chuckle. Then, louder, he said, “It’s actually kind of reassuring. Look, I’m only telling you because it’s embarrassing not to. I’m not ashamed of anything, Guerin.”

But even as he said it, he couldn’t meet Michael’s eyes. Michael’s hands tightened to fists at his sides, and he stormed up to Alex. Before the airman could ask what he was doing, Michael gripped the armchairs, caging Alex in.

“Go out with me.”

Whatever Alex had expected Michael to say, he had apparently not expected that.

“W-what?”

“Go out with me, Alex,” he repeated. “Date me. We can go now, let’s go now.”

Alex’s expression hardened. “That’s not funny.” He tried to stand, but Michael put his hands on his shoulders, keeping him down.

“I’m not laughing,” he said. “Alex. I hated that you went out with someone else tonight. I would’ve hated it if you’d gone out with Valenti, I hate anyone that tries to date you.”

“You’re going too far, Guerin, I told you already, I’m not upset, I don’t need you to do this!”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Damn it, Manes, you’ll always be impossible to talk to.” He took Alex’s face in his hands, and pulled them close enough that his lips were a mere few inches from the airman’s. “Listen to me. I love you, okay? I love you. I’d marry you right now if you’d let me, but since I know you have to have everything your way, I’ll settle for a date for now.”

Alex searched his face, his brows furrowed as if trying to find the lie. It was pointless. Michael had never been so honest in his life.

Alex suddenly swallowed, and turned away. Michael pressed his forehead to Alex’s back.

“Private, you’re gorgeous. I love all of you so much, it hurts. Even if you say no after this, you have to know that. Please don’t say no,” he finished on a whisper.

Alex stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I, um… I-I’m really tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

He walked past Michael who was staring at the empty space where he’d been seated. He hadn’t, he realized, really expected Alex to leave him. He turned, not knowing what he would say, only that he would chase Alex to his cabin if he had to get him to say yes, and no sooner had he done it than Alex wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in for a hug.

Michael stilled. Alex had never hugged him before. But as he felt the airman’s chest, rapidly rising and falling against his, as he felt Alex’s warm cheek against his own, as he felt Alex’s lips against his shoulder, Michael hugged him back with both arms, wondering why they had never thought to do this before.

Alex was so warm, his body so toned, and he and Michael were the same height, so Michael could burying his face in the crook of Alex’s neck so easily.

“Thank you,” Alex breathed into Michael’s shoulder. Alex sounded… relieved? As if he’d been afraid that Michael would agree with his date, that he wasn’t worth loving because of what he’d lost.

Michael held him tighter, shut his eyes. “Baby,” he whispered against Alex’s skin, and the word seemed to wake Alex up.

He stirred in Michael’s hold, and Michael thought that holding him tightly enough that he couldn’t breathe would keep him still, keeping him hugging Michael, and for a minute, it really looked like it was going to work. Alex settled into his arms with a deep, silent sigh, and Michael held onto him.

Eventually though, Michael had to let him go, and as soon as he did, Alex patted his shoulder, and left so quickly that Michael couldn’t even see the look on his face, though he guessed that was intentional.

As he was left alone in the bunker, Michael imagined seeing Alex again tomorrow. He imagined the airman taking his seat and continuing his work as if Michael had never confessed his love for him. He would be giving Michael an out; I’ll pretend you never said anything. I’ll spare you having to actually go out with me. I won’t let either of us suffer like we used to.

Screw that, Michael thought. He would ask again tomorrow, and if Alex didn’t show up, he’d go to his cabin. He’d give his airman tonight to breathe, then tomorrow, Alex was his.

***

I am so late, it’s not even funny.

Well, I’m back. First one-shot I’ve written since the 25 days of fluff, and I have to say, it feels good to return to angst. As you can see, I’m a little rusty. I still have that pesky little ambiguously happy ending instead of a clearly miserable one, but FEAR NOT! I will rectify that soon enough 💕

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex one shot #malex fanfic #malex fic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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jflashandclash · 4 years

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Tales From Mount Othrys

Ajax: Birth of the Triple A Chimera

Warning: cute fluffy creature death. I tried not to make it graphic. :/

The fall splintered your body. It ruined your mind.

Like Lucifer grasping at the heavens, wondering, But you said you loved me, your hand extended towards her, clinging to a snapping string, to your love, admiration, and respect. To the world how it once was. To a world how it should be.

But she let you crumble into oblivion. That angel of Justice. Your Michael. The slick-fingered Azrael. She condemned you to be lost forever.

Banishing herself into the bosom of a merciless moon queen, she left you there, on the cliff’s bottom, a scattered mosaic with nothing but Achilles’ curse keeping your meat suit together. Your eyes stare out like the exit of a well. Blank.

Dead? No. I trembled to think you dead.

Your injury is hidden behind a sheet of skin, but I can see your mind break. She betrayed your trust and betrayed your love. Your eyes gaze to the heavens as I cradle you, and you think you are lost.

I won’t let you fall apart. If God doesn’t want us in his court, we shall build our court up to him and make him love us.

--Jack, The day Thalia kicked Luke off a cliff

“Can you babysit Ajax this Friday?”

Pax wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping on Axel and Alabaster and probably wasn’t supposed to hear that question. He was supposed to be moving boxes from the front of the new laboratory’s atrium to the center of the laboratory. This is where he hoped he would be turned into a variety of rodents (or mustelids, as Alabaster had corrected him: otters, minks, weasels—and that one time Axel was turned into a wolverine—were all part of the mustelid family).

Technically, Pax was still doing his job. He just slowed down when entering the central hub of the laboratory, where Alabaster and Axel were talking.

The two had dragged in a massive crate of magical artifacts from different colonies of Greece. Really, Axel had carried his side while Alabaster was cursing and swearing over a hand that had been smashed in the doorway. Axel pulled the box open with a crow bar. Alabaster withdrew a lion mask that he said had mislabeled from Numidia, grumbling that he’d need to fix the labels once they were ready to put things on shelves.

Between grumbles and devious chin strokes—which Pax thought made Alabaster look quite esteemed—Alabaster nodded. “I can watch him. Same time as your normal matches?”

Axel’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He set the crow bar atop a stack of unsorted wooden boxes with a thunk. He undid his hairtie, shook the mane of braids and locks out, and went to retying his hair. Recently, Axel had quarter-shaved one side when he found a wad of gum in his bed. Pax knew it was Mercedes. Would anyone else believe him? No. Pax got blamed.

“Thirty minutes earlier. Jack and Luke want to add in a pre-show. Apparently, they’re going to be recorded and sent to Antaeus. Luke… thinks he’ll like them.” Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. The motion made the shadows under his eyes look like a pit of Cocoa Puffs.

“Ajax mentioned that you haven’t been sleeping well,” Alabaster said. Although he held the mask up, like he was examining it with the aloof expertise of someone that Indian Jones would rob, his gaze narrowed at the older boy.

Pax hoped Axel would listen to Alabaster.

Instead, Axel glared at the door entrance, where Pax hovered with another box. Pax thought he’d been inconspicuous. He’d been wrong before though, like the time he tried sneaking into the girl’s bathroom with Matt. Their wigs and fake boobs had taken Pax a full ten minutes to assure they weren’t lopsided.

“You little snitch,” Axel snapped.

Pax gave him an innocent grin. “That’s literally my job.”

Alabaster sighed. “Get out.”

“You told me to carry in boxes,” Pax complained, setting his atop another with a huff. This box was, in fact, full of various bird feathers and did not warrant a huff, but he relied on Alabaster and Axel not to check the label.

“Yes. To carry boxes in. Not to eavesdrop. Take a camou blanket and go find Sphinx.” Alabaster pointed to the door.

Sphinx was Lou Ellen’s Mist cat, one that (Pax was disappointed to discover) could not sprout wings or a tiny human head. Alabaster often pretended Sphinx had escaped to give Lou Ellen and Pax busywork. Pax loved it. They could pretend they were hunting through the savannah. Shoddily-made safari hats included.

Today, Alabaster gave him a meaningful look. After Axel’s last match, Alabaster had agreed to talk to Axel about the nightmares. If nothing else than to get Pax to shut up for thirty minutes. Pax agreed to fifteen and they had themselves a deal.

Pax knew the real solution was to end Axel’s arena fights. Killing legionnaires for sport in front of a live audience? Good for super villains. Not good for secretly-squishy older brothers.

Axel always had nightmares, but he could hardly get through a few hours of sleep without waking up screaming. The nights that he carved a new scar into his cheeks—one for each person he killed—were the worst. “They deserve to be remembered,” he had explained. His morbid collection of trinkets from the dead had grown too large for their room (and too much like a “ZOMBIE VENGENCE HERE” sign for the inevitable apcocolype). Scarification was Axel’s new method.

Apparently, Luke wasn’t about letting Axel stop his fights; Jack said the ratings were too good.

As such, Pax hoped Alabaster could magic the nightmares away. That seemed like a healthy way to repress trauma, right?

“Ajax,” Alabaster said in his Don’t Make Me Remove Your Mouth voice.

Pax scrambled to a box with some of his, Jack’s, and Axel’s band equipment. Prometheus—likely in attempt to gain Alabaster’s eternal hatred—had suggested the boys do band practice in the laboratory while it was being set up. The lab was out in the middle of nowhere and non-disruptive for anyone but Alabaster (a hermit who loved silence). Luke thought this was a grand idea.

Pax’s fingertips found the cold, stretchy fabric of the camou blanket. They hadn’t figured out what to use it for, but Jack was sure some inspiration would hit while they were practicing.

In the meantime, Pax tossed the blanket over his shoulders and slunk out the door.

There were only a few rooms in the building. Boxes littered the front atrium and back entrance. His fingers twitched to think of all the magical ingredients mishmashed in the cylinders resting on walls and various, mysterious jugs. Supposedly, Alabaster had labeled everything. Unfortunately, Matthias was in charge of dropping off their stuff from the Princess Andromeda and had taken the courtesy to do artistic renderings over each label. To put it kindly, Matt was a genius of ideas, but would starve as an artist.

Alabaster’s new laboratory was a pioneer project—the first land-based operation center, functioning almost independent of the soon-to-be self-built Mount Othrys. Pax had ignored most of the politics involved in asking Kronos for the separate space (an area Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Lamia didn’t need to worry about blowing up the Princess Andromeda while experimenting with magic of mass destruction). All Pax cared about was why they weren’t wearing pioneer hats if this was a pioneer project. He had even offered to reenact dying from cholera a la Oregon Trail, though no one paid him much mind.

This was super top secret. No one knew where it was. Not even Axel and Pax knew where they were going until that morning. Pax wondered what Matt knew about it and how Alabaster had managed to commandeer Axel and Pax during would-be band time. From what Pax had heard, Jack was conspiring to visit as a surprise (which meant he, and by extension, Flynn knew the location). If anyone could puppy-dog-eye information out of people, it was Jack. Pax aspired for such unassuming, devious cuteness.

Pax crept over a Styrofoam box he could only assume contained dry ice and perishable ingredients where Matt had sloppily etched a Yeti. Or those spiky bits could be a crown of thorns for a stick-figure Jesus. Pax would have to talk to Matthias about blasphemy later.

At the front, there were pillars on either side of the entrance, and a low wall between the two of them, forcing anyone advancing to pick one side or the other to enter. Alabaster explained this was in honor of Hecate and there were—in fact—three different paths to take. This led Pax and Axel to energetically vault over the low wall. It warmed Pax’s heart. Alabaster pretended he didn’t care about them, but, for whom else would he personally design an obstacle course?

A tail flicked on the other side of the wall.

Pax crawled up against it.

The front had a concrete patio with no walkway, just long grass, scattered trees, and rolling hills. Soon, the children of Hecate would make runes around the place to ward off attention. They had already put some in place to make it so no one could stumble upon it unless they knew to look for the laboratory. Pax called it paranoid. Alabaster called it preparedness.

The stone wall felt cold against Pax’s back as he flattened himself, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. This gave him a good view through the doorway—in case he could spot Axel or Alabaster for more eavesdropping—and a narrow view outside.

There, curling around the end of the low wall, was Sphinx. Her black hair bristled. Pax assumed she had see him and was lazily coming his way for pets.

However, her head wasn’t turned towards him. Her ears were alert, gaze surveying the tall grass.

Pax opened his mouth to chirp at her.

Something thudded into Sphinx’s neck, pinning her to the building. It happened so fast, Pax didn’t register that Sphinx was dead.

He was accustomed to seeing violence against humans in his favorite gore movies, his father’s “entertainment nights,” and the few cage fights he’d seen Axel do. He was used to it against mythological creatures.

Seeing the thing protrude from her scruffy fur made Pax cover a scream.

An arrow. It had been an arrow.

“Bryce, what the fuck!?” someone hissed, only a few yards away. “It was a cat! You could have given away our position.”

Pax froze, keeping his hands clamped over his mouth. Had he made a clapping sound when he covered his lips?

“A witch’s familiar, Centurion. It might have alerted the leader of Hecate to our presence. It wasn’t a real cat.”

Not a real cat. Pax thought about the times Sphinx had chased him around the ship’s laboratory when he was various rodents, the times she’d snuck into the Pax brother’s room to curl up on Axel’s chest as a space heater, the way Lou Ellen giggled with glee to see her “baby girl” lose all her grace and elegance to the superiority of a laser pointer.

Her Mist body crumbled and collapsed, leaving the arrow pinned into the wall.

Tear burned the rims of his eyes. The urge to sob reminded Pax that he hadn’t been breathing. He couldn’t tell if the world was spinning from a lack of air or from panic. A warning slithered in the back of his head, if you breathe, they’ll know you’re here.

The camue blanket had fallen to his shoulders when he grabbed his mouth. Hands trembling, he clutched the edges.

This voice drifted from the other side of the low wall.

They’re surrounding the building. Pax swallowed. Centurion. Romans.

“You’re fucked up, Bryce,” a third mumbled. “We weren’t supposed to move until Cahoon cut the power.”

If they cut the power, all the phone lines would go down. Unlike other demigods, Kronos’ men didn’t fear drawing monsters with technology; they welcomed new recruits. But, Iris wasn’t exactly cool with delivering messages for the opposing side. If they lost the power lines, they might not be able to get word out.

Pax’s breath went from nonexistent to ragged.

Alabaster had wanted privacy and quiet to set up his lab. Matthias was only supposed to do one drop off that morning. They didn’t know when Jack would show up.

They were alone.

“I can’t wait to mount a lion’s head on my wall,” the second guy, Bryce, muttered. His voice had a bouncy energy to it. Pax had heard of pre-battle jitters. These sounded too light.

A Lion’s Head. Pax choked on a whine. They’re talking about Axel.

“The lion’s head is mine,” a feminine voice stated softly.

“Alright, Ari. Sheesh, we get it. You’re mad that that cannibal ate Julian after he killed him.”

A tiny, detached part of Pax wanted to squeal a protest. Julian? Praetor Julian? The first person Axel had killed. He hadn’t eaten him—Axel fought to get Julian a proper funeral so he would remain uneaten.

Everything felt like it was tunneling to the arrow on the wall. How much time had he wasted cowering here? His brain fumbled. This was it. This was his job. He was the recon guy. That’s what Mercedes had been—

What would Mercedes do?

Pax fumbled to his belt, to the mirror she had specially made for him. It was reflective, but the surface was dulled to minimize glare. He forced himself to take two regularish breaths, to not picture Axel’s head on a wall.

“Damn it, Bryce. How did you get put on this mission? Just remember we’re not supposed to kill the younger kid with the two colored eyes. You heard command. He’s their spymaster’s assistant and a whole wealth of information.”

They know a lot. They know too much.

With as little noise as he could manage, Pax shifted the camue blanket up his arm, so he could hold the mirror with a covered hand. He leaned against the edge of the wall, tilting the mirror to see into the fields.

Memo to self: request magical one-way camue blanket that he could see-through but others can’t.

“He needs to be able to talk. Doesn’t mean he needs to be able to walk.”

“I reiterate: you’re fucked up, Bryce.”

“Quiet,” the feminine voice, the centurion, growled.

There they were: not people, but ominous divots in the grass. They might have been wearing camue blankets too, though Pax doubted it. These weren’t professionals. Pax could tell from the loud chatter. He wondered if they’d been gathered in a hurry and hadn’t been able to vet out people like the cat-killer, Bryce.

About thirty feet away, beyond the long grass, two people stood by the power line in construction workers outfits. From what Pax could see, something glinted under the bright orange reflectors: armor. The perfect, quick cover. Alabaster even said they’d been struggling with power and relying on backup generators. Would the Romans know to cut the backup generators?

One thing was certain: there was no referee to yell at the Romans for bringing too many players onto the field. If Pax had to guess, the back door and windows would be covered too. He shivered to remember Mercedes’ fingers glide across his shoulder. Pax Two, I will give you a piece of candy if you can tell me how many doors and windows we passed in this building.

He wished she were here, barking orders about the obvious things he had missed. But, then she’d be in danger too.

If Pax made it out of this alive, he vowed to write a Hey Mr. ADHD song that promoted concentration and calm. There was a back exit, a front exit, and several windows in every room except the very center of the building, where Axel and Alabaster were unaware of their plight. Pax puffed up his cheeks, barely catching himself before he popped them. He didn’t know if there were any secret exits. That would be prime information.

As he crept back through the atrium, he tilted his mirror out the window. Maybe thirty feet away, he caught sight of movement: snipers. The Romans had scouted the building. They would be watching every exit, and likely had attack forces at each entrance.

Panic later. Move now.

The Romans were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear missteps past the atrium, but Pax focused on the memory of Mercedes’ bells strung at his neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, and feet. If one of the imaginary bells rang, the Romans might know. They might come in here, skewer Axel, shoot Alabaster in the head with an arrow, and drag Pax off, kicking and screaming.

By the time he reached the central lab, sweat trickled off his face, threatening to make a plopping sound onto the floor. Axel and Alabaster’s voices echoed amongst the boxes. Although they spoke at a normal level, each word made Pax’s ears ring like a cannon.

He couldn’t decipher what they said. The boxes, tubes, and wayward lab and band equipment blurred as he stepped up to Axel, his feet knowing where to go while his mind was numb with fear.

His hand was on his brother’s arm. Axel and Alabaster froze, mid-talk, staring at Pax in worry. There must have been something wrong with his face.

“There is a Roman hitsquad outside. I counted five in the front. There are likely five in the back and there are snipers at every window. They want to kill Axel and take me alive for interrogation. Unsure on their intentions with Witch Boy.”

Once the words were out, it became real. It wasn’t his turn to keep it together. It was Axel’s, the planner.

Which was good, because Pax felt himself tremble with panic.

Thank you for reading! Stay tuned next week to see how well three teenage idiots panic over being surrounded. I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!

#Axel #Pax #alabaster #Sphinx #SPHINX D:#I love cats and may have cried over this cat that has been mentioned a grand number of two times in the series #Bryce of the Head Shaped like a Dickus #Centurion Ari out for revenge #Tales from Mount Othrys #PJO #HOO #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #Byrce #Trying to get my steam back #I would rather be giving you guys light-hearted stories right now #but unfortunately this is all backlogged from when I was going through a rough time #soooooo--yay! Angst!#But for real--the rest of the book is basically if all the early 2000 emo bands had a reunion at an Abandoned Twinkies factory

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huntertales · 6 years

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Part Four: I Don’t Want to Be Me Anymore. (The Man Who Would Be King S06E20)

Episode Summary: When Bobby begins to suspect Castiel hiding something, Sam finds himself growing skeptical of the angel’s true motives as well. Dean denies tries to deny the accusations for long as he can. The reader is stuck in the middle of who to side with. She’s left wondering if Castiel is truly her friend—or the enemy. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,566.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

It was the dead of night and the entire house was eerily quiet. Bobby retired to his bed while Sam sleep silently on the floor and Dean peacefully rested on the couch. You were wide awake, your mind restless with thoughts of what you should and shouldn't do. All you knew at this very moment you wanted to be away from everyone that even reminded you of the supernatural world. Screw everything for a few weeks. You knew it could be so easy for you to grab every article of clothing and run away from here. If Cas wanted to open up the world to purgatory to fight his brother, so be it. You were just...tired of it all. Not in the sense that you wanted everything to stop. But you just wanted to be someone else for a change.

You sat at Bobby's desk and stared at the two boys with a glass of whiskey in your hand. Most of the time it was Dean who sat up with his restless head, wondering what life would be if things were different. What he could do to get that apple pie life. Sure, he had it hard...being uprooted at such a young age. Forced to be a brother and a parental figure to his little sibling while his father brainwashed him into being the perfect hunter. He swallowed down all his emotions for that normalcy because that's what he was taught. But all of it came back up when the apocalypse was nipping at your heels. He found himself urging for a life filled with a white picket fence and nights around the dinner table with a family that even wasn’t his.

Your entire life you've been cushioned and pampered with a lifestyle that was safe. You hadn't understood the struggles he and his brother went through until you got out on the open road and became a hunter. The idea had been lingering in your head since you learned about the supernatural. From fourteen and until sixteen, up until the moment you saw the yellow eyes of Azazel, you thought about college. You studied your ass off, you took all sorts of AP and college level courses so your transcript was well above your fellow classmates. You kept your nose clean and you pretended to be the good child your mother wanted to be. Because, like Dean, you didn’t know any better. Until you got the taste of what you always secretly wanted.

Now you found yourself consumed with your own personal thoughts and regrets of what you did over this past year. Why didn’t you go straight to Dean when you got out? Why had you been so adamant on letting him stay with Lisa? It should have been who you was in her spot. She really didn’t know him like you did. But you kept your mouth shut and found yourself lulled into the sight of Sam without a soul, which still to this day, you regretted doing what you did. You could call it jealousy, but you knew that would be putting a bandaid on the situation. It was much more than just that.

You knew why you let Lisa have her year with the man you loved and found yourself hiding your true feelings into his brother. Because you put yourself before others. You weren't the type to be selfish and step on one's toes to make them feel upset. And when you did try do something you wanted...it backfired in your face. That stupid deal you made with Crowley while you were out of your mind. You kept your mouth shut about your fears because you had bigger problems. Sam’s soul that needed to be fixed. Dean’s constant worried mind, taking down Eve. What were you going to do about what Cas did? Ask him for help in getting you back to normal? Quietly wait until he was done doing what he needed before asking him to fix you? When were you ever going to get the chance to just...not be needed?

Your entire existence was for the purpose to serve others. For your mother it was to have a child and give you everything she never had. The apocalypse you were just the pretty face, Lucifer's little mutt who was a stand in for the woman who was part of the reason why Lucifer and Michael had their falling out. You were the supposed reincarnation of a woman named Katerina. The universe wrote out your story so you could live through her tragic life. Stupidly trying to fix something that was broken from day one. Only to be turned into something she really didn’t want to be in order to make Lucifer feel a little less lonely. Katerina’s effort to stop the bad blood between both brothers ended up her dying at the hands of the man she truly loved, Michael.

Not to mention you’d been kidnapped so many times by angels demons so they dangled your feet in the fire and make the boys squirm into doing what they wanted. And it worked a few times. But what happens when the enemy who using you happens to be your friend? How do you solve a problem you thought was already fixed? And most importantly, where do you go when all of this is solved?

You leaned back in your seat and outstretched your arm with the glass you were holding. You began to swirl your drink around, watching as the alcohol inside nearly tipped over the edge, but remained in its confinements. "Hello, Y/N."

You flinched ever so slightly at the sound of Castiel’s gravelly voice. You slowly looked up from the spot on the desk you had been staring at and to the angel standing across from you. In all honesty, you weren't surprised to see him. “How did you get in here?” You tried to sound a little bit concerned, but you were too tired to care. You looked away from the angel and to the windows painted with sigils you learned from the very thing himself in attempt to keep him away.

“The angel-proofing Bobby put up on the house,” Cas said. “He got a few things wrong.”

"Well, it's too bad we have to angel-proof in the first place, isn't it?" You muttered underneath your breath. You brought the drink to your lips and swallowed the whiskey down in one take. You pushed yourself up from your seat and headed for the kitchen so the both of you could talk in privacy. You grabbed the bottle from the counter and contemplated to pour yourself yet another drink. You let out a sigh and put it back down, deciding instead to face the angel who followed you into the kitchen. "Why the hell are you here?"

Castiel took a few steps forward to you, but the cold glare that you gave while you leaned yourself against the counter told him to back off. He left a few feet between the both of you while he tried to answer your question in a hushed voice so he wouldn't wake the boys. "I want you to understand."

“What you told yourself to justify everything you did to me and Sam? If so, let me take a wild guess." You said. You crossed your arms over your chest as you quietly impersonated his deep voice . "Blah, blah, Raphael, blah. Right?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you did make a deal with Crowley to be brought back as a demon." Cas said. You shook your head and forced yourself to calm your anger by letting out a chuckle. You should’ve seen him throw that mistake right in your face. So that’s probably why he even agreed to the plan Crowley probably came forward to him with. You secretly wanted to be a demon again, you wouldn’t really care if you found out....only you did.

"Do you let a drunk drive home with a bottle in his hand because he wants to? No, you don't. Because you would be putting a lot of people in danger. I wasn't in my right state of mind when I made that deal. I didn't know what I wanted back then." You said. You fell silent for a moment as you stared at the angel, waiting to see a change in his expression to show that he felt remorse. Anything to signify that he wanted to change things if he could. "My, God. You don't feel the least bit guilty over this, do you? I mean, why would you? You didn't do anything wrong. You only destroyed the very thing we spent months trying to fix."

“I’m doing this for you. For the boys.” Cas used an excuse that sounded too comical to be true. You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing as you raised your brow. “I'm doing this because of you.”

“Because of me. Yeah. Where did you learn that from me? When I did ever use my friends for my own advantage? 'Cause from where I'm standing, you sound a lot like your brothers. You know, the ones we sent to the cage because they wanted us to do their dirty work." You pointed out to the angel. You tried your hardest to keep the urge from punching in straight in the face. Because you knew it would hurt you more than him. “If this is you trying to get power, I'm afraid for what's gonna happen when you do get it."

“You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will—“

“Yes, you’re totally right. Because pulling someone from hell and using them for your own advantage is free will. That’s what we fought for all those months!” You cut off the angel, having had enough of his excuses that were empty as his emotions inside that vessel of his. “Sure, I get it. You're a big time angel now. You can do whatever you need to get what you want. But just because you can doesn't mean you should!"

“I know what I'm doing, Y/N.” Castiel stated in a quiet, serious voice.

"Do you? Do you really?" You asked the angel. You found yourself dropping the cold exterior to show the angel that his actions would have consequences. Sooner than later all of his choices would bite him in the ass. "I'm not gonna logic you. You're a big boy. I'm just saying don't. Quit while there's still a chance to get out from Crowley's thumb."

“I don’t understand why you are against this plan.” Cas said. You rubbed your hands with your face at how ignorant he was choosing to look at the situation. He was so caught up in the big picture he forgot about about the million times demons had screwed you over.

“Look, next to those boys and Bobby, you are the closest thing I have to family. You are like an obnoxious brother to me. And if you haven't realized it, you're supposed to be my friend. Sure, we're not perfect. We fight and we butt heads over everything, but I could always count on you being there for me." You admitted to him, your voice dropping slightly as you told him how you really felt about your odd friendship. “I want to help you, Cas. I really do. So if I’m asking you not to do something...You gotta trust me.”

Cas fell silent from what you told him as a side of caution. You watched in the darkness of the night as his eyes fell to the ground. They wandered subtly around the floor until they drew back up to his face. You swallowed when he replied to your warning. "Or what?"

Yo weren't sure how you wanted to react to his response to what you openly admitted. You had opened yourself up and tried to extend an olive branch after everything that he did to you. And he chose to stomp on it. You straightened out your shoulders and stood a little bit taller. "Well, I'll do what I have to do to stop you."

"You can't, Y/N. You're just a human." Cas said, as if that little reminder was supposed to make you feel inferior to him. "I'm an angel."

You didn't respond to what he pointed out about what made the both of you different. All though he may have been correct about that matter, you didn't feel intimidated. And you didn't even feel sad. You felt...pity. "You know what really makes us different? I had a parent who at least taught me right from wrong before abandoning me. John instilled morals into those boys. What did God teach you to send you down this path?” You instilled a question that you knew he couldn't answer. "You may be right about me being a measly human, but I'm pretty confident in myself. I've taken on some pretty big sons of bitches."

Cas found himself looking away from you. Maybe it was the guilt you forced him to feel after he started to process what kind of damage he had done to the people that cared for him after his own family casted him out. "I feel sorry for you. I really do. So alone, so unsure of yourself." You mumbled, shaking your head. “Goodbye, Cas. Hopefully the next time we see each other things will be different.”

You blinked, and like how you expected, Cas disappeared from your sight. But it didn’t stop the ache that sat in the pit of your stomach from how things turned out the way it did. You let out a quiet sigh and ran a hand through your hair, you wracked your brain for anything you could do to get yourself out of here. You leaned your backside further against the counter top, making you feel the outline of your cell phone. You didn't hesitate a second in reach for the device and sent a text message to possibly the only person you could trust anymore.

+ + +

You had been the tiniest bit tipsy when you stepped into the bar a little after midnight, the same place you spent enjoying a few beers and shots with Josh to celebrate the victory of defeating Eve. Now you sat in the same booth in the back of the bar with puffy eyes, admitting every little detail to Josh while you nursed your beer. You had texted Josh just seconds after you saw Cas disappear and told him you were in need of a drink. When he pulled up just outside of Bobby’s place and away from the boys, that’s when you finally let it all out, the stress and hurt that had been bottling up over the past day since you got back from learning the truth from Cas. You didn’t remember the last time you cried this hard. But it felt good to let your emotions out and to be in the presence of someone that reminded you of a life before.

“Have you ever been homesick for a place that doesn’t exist anymore?” You asked. Josh titled his head slightly to the side and gave you a curious look, wondering what you meant by that. "I love hunting. I really do. I love the boys with all of my being and even Cas—even though he's a complete bastard. He's still my family. I wouldn't change anything. I’d do anything for them. And I want to keep doing what I do until the day that I die. But, sometimes..."

"You wish you could be someone else for a little while?" Josh finished your thought. You nodded your head slowly, admitting the longing that had been building up in your head since all of this had unraveled in ways that was still making your head spin. "Yeah, me too. There are days when I wish that I could just close my eyes and be someone new."

"Me too. What I wouldn't do just to start over. Just for a little while. No knowledge of angels or demons." You found yourself admitting your desires to him out in the open, like they were really going to happen. It was wishful thinking. "I want parents, I want to know what it feels like to be married. Hell, I want a mortgage." You knew it was the alcohol that was making you smile as you reached for the drink to take another sip. It was the reality of your bitter situation that a little more complicated than going to sleep and waking up someone knew "I just...I want to be human. And I thought I was for the longest time. Turns out, I was wrong. With everything else.”

"Well, screw those who wronged you." Josh reached for his beer and raised it up into the air. You followed in his actions as he made a toast. "Here's to a new beginning. May Y/N's future be filled with people that only want to help her. Not hurt her."

Maybe it was the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you hadn't felt in ages or the second round of shots Josh talked you into having that blinded you by the people Josh had subtly dissed. The Winchester brothers, who had been sleeping while you were drinking away your problems with a friend they didn’t particularly like either. You left a simple note of "I needed some air—Y/N" to let them know why you disappeared. The truth that you needed some space from them felt a little too harsh. And you had enough of the truth. Sometimes it would be nice for someone to lie to you. Or tell you the truth that would benefit you.

"Oh Josh," You let out a sigh as you shook your head. "What would I do without you?"

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Josh said. You gave him a soft smile that made a tightening feeling in his chest become more prominent. He noticed it first develop when he got the text from you. Josh’s eyes wandered away from you for a split second to the face hiding in the crowded bar, the one who had lead him to this path. He nervously brought up his drink to calm his nerves before you could suspect anything.

The both of you spent the next few hours until the bar scene thinned out and last call was made. You were more than tidy, but you were still in control of how you felt. It took a lot to get you drunk. You reached a hand inside your pocket and pulled out a few bills and left them on the table for the sweet waitress that took care of you. She smiled as you passed by her and wished the both of you a good night. As you exited the bar, you didn’t realize her smile had dropped along with her facade, her eyes flickering black to represent what had been watching you tonight like how she was instructed to.

You stepped out into the almost empty parking lot and inhaled a deep breath, taking in the scent of the night air that felt so refreshing. Josh’s motel wasn’t too far of a walking distant from the bar. All of you agreed to play it safe and pick up the car tomorrow morning when you were nursing a hangover you were going to regret. The both of you made it across the parking lot and underneath a headlight when you noticed something was off. No matter how drunk you were, you could still feel when trouble was brewing in the distance. You found yourself stopping dead in your tracks and looking up to the street lamp just above you. You watched as the light began flickering.

“Ah, damn it.” You muttered underneath your breath. You knew that was never a good sign. And it didn’t help the fact that you were out in the dead of night after a few hours of drinking with no weapon to protect yourself with. It’s like you wanted to die. Josh remained behind you as he seemed to notice that something was off about this. You swallowed as you looked over your shoulder ever so slightly to see who was standing behind you. It came as no surprise when you saw that familiar arrogant smirk and black suit. There stood the king of hell in all of his glory. Your lips stretched into a forced smile at the sight of him. "Crowley...as I live and breathe.”

“A little dangerous out here to be roaming around here all your lonesome, don’t you think? There’s psychos out here.” Crowley’s first words to greet you after spending months of faking his own death were sarcasm. You poked your tongue against your cheek as you rolled your eyes, showing him you were the least bit amused at his dry sense of humor that hadn't changed since you first met him. “My, looks I left your manners down in the cage. Is that any way to greet me, Kitten? After all I did for you, too.”

"Don't call me that." You hissed at his stupid pet name he found so amusing when his smile grew even wider. Your attitude slowly sizzled away for a second when you noticed that Crowley didn't come here alone. A few of his goons you had recognized from the bar stepped out from the shadows, circling you and Josh, giving you no chance of making a run for it. Not like you had a chance of getting out of here if you wanted. You had a feeling Crowley had been tailing you since you got back to South Dakota. "Is there a reason why you're here?”

"Yes, actually. I’m sure our good friend Castiel filled you in on the bonding time him and I have been spending together while going after purgatory. Along with other things that I’m sure ruffled up your feathers a bit." Crowley informed you of details that you already knew. You narrowed your eyes on him as you watched him approach you slowly. His hands were in his pockets as he remained casual, but who knew what sort of trick he had hidden up his sleeve. "Don't worry. I'm strictly here on business. I promise the angel I wouldn't touch a hair on your head."

"I highly doubt that." You said. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at the demon with suspicion at his true motives. It didn't take much brain power to realize you were harboring an important key in his search for purgatory. "Let me guess. You want something back from me."

"Yes...And no. My business isn't with you, love. It's with him." Crowley's hand slipped out from his pocket and pointed a finger in your direction. But he wasn't gesturing to you, but to the man standing behind you. You furrowed your brow slightly as you looked over your shoulder to see Josh’s nervous expression had worsened. He was now staring at you with guilt. "You see, what you call family...I call my best selling point for any old fool to jump feet first into making a deal.”

Your felt your face fall into shock at the word that slipped out of the demon’s mouth. You looked over at the your friend, the idiot who you thought sold his soul to the king of hell. “You didn’t…”

"He did. Per se. He scratched my back, I scratched his. You see, poor Josh's grandparents are about to kick the bucket and he wanted to find a way to fix you after Cas' brilliant plan of pulling you out of the cage wasn't working out well as he hoped, leaving me to clean up the mess." The demon said. You clenched your jaw at how this night was coming. You looked away from the man you called your friend and to the one that made you regret not taking the demon knife as a precaution. “You see, your friends...they want what’s best for you. And unlike those boys, Josh here has spent months scouring the states for a way to make you human. And by golly, he found it.”

“If you think you’re laying a hand on me,” You warned him. “I’ll kill you.”

“I know, I know. The punches keep coming. First it’s Cas. Then your own friend. Who can you trust these days?” Crowley didn't even flinch at your threat, because it was nothing more than hurtful words to bruise his ego. He merely deflected to what was making you angry and full of rage. "Like you said, there's something from you that I want. And I'm gonna take it back. Thanks for holding on to it." You were ready to lunge at him and tear his throat out with your teeth, but before you could even move, you felt someone pin your arms to your side restraining you back. Crowley smiled, in a way that made a bad feeling settle into the pit of your stomach. "Nighty night, Kitten. See you in a bit."

Crowley turned his back on you and began walking away, leaving you with a string of possibilities of what was going to happen. You felt yourself suddenly completely sober now at the events that unfolded. Before you could see the demon vanish from your sight, you felt something slip over your head, engulfing your vision. It was the blow to the side of your head that made everything go black, leaving you anxious for what else was to come.

+ + +

“What did I tell you—“ “We’ve got to act fast. First one was on the house. And if you liked the taste of that, wait until we crack the whole bloody thing open.”

Voices were the first thing you noticed when you slowly began to come back around to consciousness. The next thing was the sticky feeling on the side of your forehead where your hair stuck to your skin. You guessed it was blood from how badly your head was throbbing. You inhaled inhaled a deep breath as you slowly sat up straight in what felt like a chair. A very uncomfortable one. The hot breath that you exhaled hit you right back in your face, making you realize there was something still over your head, which explained why you could see fragments of bodies and bits of light.

Much as you'd love to rip off the sack off your head and show the angel and demon how you really felt about them, you couldn't. You sat with your hands behind your back and a disgusting tasting fabric between your teeth. You listened to the sounds of your own confined breathing and whispered conversation before you were blinded with by light. It took you a few seconds before your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. You noticed that you weren't in the bar parking lot, or anywhere that you noticed before. It looked like an empty warehouse from the looks of it.

"You sure this is gonna work?"

You heard Josh's voice echo through the building, but he wasn't standing with the two other men. You moved your head to look painfully over your shoulder, best that you could, to see him. He was standing to your very right with what appeared to be someone else...an unconscious body hunched over in a chair. You noticed that she had eerily familiar color hair as you. The same bit of nose and lips from what you could inspect from the vail hiding her hair. You could feel your breathing turning heavier in nervousness at what you wondered. Was that...Was that you?

"Shapeshifter, actually. It's a carbon copy of Y/N Y/L/N. Has every scar and every little detail on your body." Crowley answered your question as if he knew what you were thinking. You looked back over at the demon as you furrowed your brow. He acknowledged your presence before moving his gaze over to your friend. "For the last bloody time. Yes."

Cas' approaching footsteps towards you made you turn your gaze back over at him and watched as he began rolling up his sleeve to his elbow. Sort of like the few times when he reached his hand inside to touch the human soul. Yo had only witnessed it, but you had a feeling it was about to happen to you. Because there was something inside of you that you had been carrying around all these months. And they wanted it back. That's what the body was for…

“If there’s some place that you find soothing, you should go there, in your mind." Cas instructed you the same way when he shoved his hand inside Sam's chest to see if he had a soul. You leaned back in your seat as you shook your head no as you told him to get away from you, but all of it came off as muffled words nobody could understand except for yourself. "You wanted to be human, this is what you have to do. Stay still.”

The angel's warning would be the only thing you heard before he slipped into say something in a foreign tongue you had never heard before. But you couldn't hear much of anything from the sounds of your muffled screams of agonizing pain that you hadn't felt before in your entire life. You've wanted to be normal for your entire life. You lost count on the sleepless nights and tears shed over the idea that you were something of an abomination like this. If you knew this was the way to getting what you wanted...you would change your mind. But you didn't have a choice in the matter anymore.

+ + +

A happy place could be an actual location. A paradise of white sand beaches and water blue as they sky. Busy streets of sights overseas, buildings that might be ancient, but rich with history. A memory of a place of what once was. Sometimes it could be a person. Cas guessed after you slipped out of consciousness again that you were dreaming of the Winchester brothers, your family that you proclaimed just a few hours ago. People that would do anything for you. The angel had done the best of what he could considering the circumstances that pulled you apart. He hoped you would still consider him a friend after all of this was said and done. He fixed his sleeve and let out a sigh.

"It's done." The angel announced.

Josh nervously stood in the distance with his arms crossed tightly over his face. His face was eerily pale as his eyes were slanted wide open. This was a sight that he had never seen done before. All of his hard work over the past several months had paid off. But why did he feel so guilty? What had he done? All of this reminded him of Frankenstein. A book of many meanings. One he remembered was the consequences of playing God. The man kept reminding himself that he was getting you one step closer to freedom. You were human again. He felt himself inhaling a breath, but before he could release it to signify his relief, he should have known. Actions have consequences...If you make a deal with the devil, you're going to get burned.

The young man was suddenly blinded by a light that came out of nowhere, taking him by complete and total surprise, quickly shielding his eyes before he could go blind. Josh stood there for a moment, arms crossed over his head as his breathing turned into heavy pants of fear. He wasn't sure what was going on.

“Relax. You can open your eyes now.” Crowley reassured the man that everything was fine. Josh nervously peeked out slightly and opened one of his eyes to see if the demon was right. When he noticed that everything was fine, he dropped his arms back to his side. Josh looked around the building to see that everything remained almost like normal. Except someone was missing. The angel. "Don't worry, mate. Castiel went on....a little trip. Where to? I don't bloody know. His end of the bargain is up."

"What?" Josh asked. He was about to look around the room to see if you were all right, but he suddenly felt a grip around his arms, and with a quick yank, he was being forced back. "What the hell are you doing?! We had a deal!"

"And it was pleasure doing business with you mate. But the big kids have to get to work. My help will explain the details to your next bit. I...have a guest I need to welcome." Crowley waved off the two other demons that dragged out the poor sucker that had got wrapped up in all of this mess. He passed by your unconscious body and to the one that was calling his attention the most. Crowley watched as the body that had been the most tedious part of all of this began to move slowly until she sat straight up. His lips stretched into a smirk when he saw her eyes switch to that beautiful, malevolent color rotten as the soul inside her body. "Hello, darling."

[Next Part]

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wolfarmystories · 6 years

Text

House of Angels

(Supernatural sucks, I fucking hate it DX

Fandom: Supernatural

Genre: General

Characters: Gabriel, Original Character

Summary: Gabriel goes for a walk in the park and ends up picking up a stray. Tired by everything going on in his life and wanting to find somewhere to hide away, he makes a choice and gets wheels in motion. Canon divergence after season six

Might be chapter one if I give in to my greater demons. Or the Gabe in my head

Gabriel's immediate thought when he found her was that this girl was not human, but this, the archangel told himself, was such an obvious thing that he was starting to wonder if this was how it felt to be a human. Stupid, pointing out the obvious, and staring at the half-naked woman for what he soon realized was probably more than a few seconds too long.

It was the wings truth be told that made him pretty much certain she wasn't human; humans didn't have wings. Angels had wings, but she was definitely not an angel; no Grace, no presence of God about her. Some monsters had wings, but as he tilted his head, regarded her, stared at her, he was pretty damn certain she wasn't really a monster either. She was...something, but the trickster did not know what and he was more disconcerted by that not knowing, him Gabriel, (ex) Messenger of the Lord, a Trickster god, him of all beings, being unaware of whatever this creature laying unconscious on the ground was. But what he did know was that the wings reminded him a bit of the past; they were black, pitch and pure as the darkness itself, not burnt or painted yet felt as if they were the shadows themselves given a physical state for her. Feathers, like a bird's, like an angel's, and his eyes came across the blood, both the dried and the still flowing from a gaping wound. A blemish on her wings, something that made his own shudder in sympathy; he did not know her, he did not care but he was struck with the sympathy of an injured wing. That had to hurt.

"What kind of trouble did you fall into, fledgling?" the words came easy and smooth though he hadn't spoken them in millenia, not since back when there had been fledglings, not since back when he had still been Gabriel. He would say it with a chuckle back then, a murmur of amusement and just a touch of concern as he watched over the younger angels, the cherubs who were just learning to walk, to fly, to sing, to be God's good little soldiers. One would stumble, one would get hurt, one would get covered in dirt and feathers and look up at the elder archangel with their baby eyes and he would just chuckle. "What kind of trouble did you fall into, fledgling?" He did it with all the younger angels as they all found some sort of way to cause themselves trouble. To Anna, to Balthasar, to Zachariah. To Castiel. And now to this girl, who didn't feel like an angel but who he couldn't stop himself from calling fledgling; maybe it was the wings, maybe it was the trouble. Maybe it was that he missed those days, those golden shining days, so very badly.

He leaned down beside her and placed a hand over the wound. The two were alone, the city park Gabriel had decided upon whim to walk through in the dead of night devoid of people, just the rustling of other feathers as birds watched from their nests, and even if they hadn't been, even if they were surrounded by a crowd, he would have still knelt down, though perhaps only after sending the humans away with some illusion or trick; unwilling to be stopped as he was, he was not a fool anyway and exposure would only lead to trouble. But at the same time he couldn't just leave this girl to suffer, that much a tiny twinkle of good will in his Grace impressed upon him in that moment. The angel took a breath, he barely had to focus; his powers were strong, and though healing wasn't exactly his specialty or something he did a lot, not nearly as fun as using his powers to trick people into their own demises, it wasn't hard either for an angel, an archangel like him. Golden light, his own special brand of Grace moving through his fingers, started to knit towards skin and tendon, wipe away the blood, heal the wound.

He didn't expect it to bite him though, whatever it was; it wasn't her, she was still fast asleep, long black strands of hair, the same midnight as her wings, covered her face and she hadn't moved or made a noise since he'd found her laying there in the middle of the park. He knew she was alive of course, could sense as much, but she had certainly not stirred even as he tried to heal her. No, rather instead it was something else, a presence he felt only as he tried to heal her and fix the damage to her wings, something truly malicious, something that didn't want her wound closed. It sparked and bit at him and he was startled, thrown for a loop as he pulled away and stared at the wound. The girl made a soft noise, akin to a coo of a bird, and winced a bit, seeming to be waking finally; Gabriel simply watched, waited, stared. And he heard more rustling, more movement nearby, and his Grace felt ablaze. Something was there, he turned his head to look, to see if he could see it, find it; something was watching them and he could feel the bloodlust rolling off it in waves.

"What?" spoke a soft voice and his attention was moved again, away from what was going on out there and back down to the girl with the injured wing and the torn dress. She seemed confused, she furrowed his brow. He didn't care; his attention was on the blood color of her eyes, clear, deep, but not demonic. She was not human, she was not an angel, she was not a demon, and there was something out there licking it's lips at her.

"Who are you?" she asked and almost seemed scared, trying to move but wincing in pain; her wing shuddered and quaked, a movement of pain rather than anything else. There was that sympathy again.

"Sit still," he told her with a forcefulness that he was sure would have made Michael proud. It wasn't anger or pride or the resolve of a soldier that formed it though; he wasn't sure what it was but he didn't want her to move, barely to breath at the moment.

His gaze moved again and without thinking his wings quivered, unfurled, extended. Most couldn't see them of course, couldn't see through the veil into the spiritual plane on which his true form existed; the shadows they cast though in the dim streetlights, the very force of his Grace with his wings unfolded as they were, this was enough to make the vast majority of creatures tremble and fall to their knees before the majesty of one of God's archangels. And he could hear whatever it was out there scuttle away, run from the Trickster, and Gabriel half smirked.

Then he heard the gasp and he turned to see the girl with large black wings of her own staring up at him with wide eyes. Namely staring at where his wings were, as if she could perceive them, could honestly see the truth of the strange man with the sandy hair and the golden eyes. See his wings, see his Grace, and her eyes just stared.

"What are you?" Her question had changed and he was tempted to call it rude but he didn't think she meant it that way and he was tired. It wasn't like a wanting to sleep sort of tired, just a general tired; tired of creatures trying to fight him, tired of things going bump around him, tired of humans and their attitudes, tired of trying to find somewhere to just have some fun and getting interrupted. Tired of fighting, running away from fighting only to be dragged back into fighting. Gabriel was just tired and he sighed.

"I'm the archangel Gabriel," he said and tried to smirk, one of his smirks, a half smile that would denote some sort of amusement, like it was a joke.

But her eyes were earnest, it reminded her honestly of Castiel and he wondered how the youngest of his celestial siblings was doing at the moment, getting a sense of something being off; the young woman continued to watch him and seeing the way his expression changed, just in the smallest ways, she frowned a bit and forced herself to her feet with some difficulty. Gabriel was used to be smaller than many of the people he dealt with, a problem with his vessel to tell the truth, but it wasn't so with her. She was small, thin, made tiny by her own eclipsing wings; her dress hung off her body mostly full pieces though her sleeves were ripped to shreds and it occurred to him she wasn't wearing shoes or socks or anything at all really below her knees. She was a good few inches shorter than him and thus had to look up at him, tilting her head as she regarded him. The Trickster didn't expect this, not the innocent look to her eyes nor when she had reached up to touch his cheek, her fingers cold but soft. They grazed over his skin and he would have shivered if he was human. Hell, he still did, and he thought again of how tired he was, how he wanted to be able to go back to being uninvolved in his family's drama and all the apocalypses and all the fighting and saving the Winchesters, saving Cas, saving everyone. Just get away and be away, even if just for a small portion of eternity.

"An archangel?" she asked again and tilted her head, again like Castiel; maybe they were secretly related. Maybe she was a Nephilim, but he knew she wasn't that because he'd still be able to sense Grace in her, and there was none. Her eyes seemed to search his face, "I've never met an archangel before."

"There are only a small number of us." Four, four archangels. And two were sealed away in a Cage deep in Hell, his brothers, his precious brothers.

"Admittedly I don't really remember meeting much of anyone before," she said and she spoke with a smile though the words rather startled Gabriel. Amnesia then? He reached up with one hand, touching her forehead gently with two fingers but before he could even focus the same thing happened; something struck back, forced him away, and both winced, stepping away from each other.

He looked at his hand, brow furrowed in confusion; he flexed his fingers, feeling the flow of his Grace, his essence, his life force and magic and all the things it encompassed. Nothing was wrong with him and he glanced up at her to see her looking scared. It wasn't of him though, he was certain of that; it was something else, something unrelated to him but not to what happened.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft, trembling and her wings fluttered nervously; the movement made her wince again and Gabriel grabbed her arm before she could step another step away.

The archangel that remembered the fledglings didn't think her running around injured was a good idea. The god concerned by the oddness of the responses to his Grace didn't want her leaving until he could figure out what was going on. Gabriel who could see the fear in her eyes and understood it and found some sympathy for that too didn't plan on letting her run. He shook his head, tried to speak in a calming way, like he did when Castiel had crashed back onto the ground after his first attempt at flight, when Balth had accidentally burned himself with his own burning blade, when Lucifer had first spoken of rebellion in soft whispers to his younger brother and Gabriel for all his love, all his understanding, had tried to tell him not to do it.

"It's okay, you don't have to run. I'm not going to hurt you." Her eyes stared at him, wide still, like a doe's, like a newborn angel staring up at it's caretaker for the first time. And he was touched by that sympathy again; he tried to smile again, he focused on her instead of letting his mind wander to his siblings again, "Do you remember anything? A name, a location, something?" What happened to her wing, why she was laying unconscious in a park in a ripped dress and nothing else, why though her eyes were red and she had large wings nothing else about her screamed monster or angel or demon or human.

She was silent, she bit her lip in thought; he watched her through it all and waited for some sort of answer, something to connect to her. But none came; she shook her head and he sighed softly, a reluctant sound but a sound nevertheless.

Something itched at the back of his head, the sensation of being watched again, and he pulled her against her chest and took a look around, surveying. His wings flexed and shook out a few downy feathers; the girl's eyes were glued on them, watching the archangel's wings move and her own quaked in response, twitching before he placed a hand upon the back of one and pressed it to her, gently, carefully.

"Let's go," he said and she opened her mouth to speak; he snapped his fingers before she could.

#supernatural #fanfics #fanfiction #gabriel #original female #amnesia #monsters on the run #and gabriel can't help the big brother in him

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luciferismyhomeboy · 7 years

Text

What Goes Around - Part 2

Pairings: Lucifer x You

Warnings: A little bit of foul language

Tag List: @kawaiidemondesuchan @mysacredstardust @justsavey0urself @runecantfly @catfishwrites @sup--ernova @imincastielsarmy

Poof! You appeared in the room with a little flutter of wings. The room was dark and you squinted into the inky blackness, trying to see what was there. Your vessel’s eyes would take a few moments to adjust as you had just been in the bright sunlight. All of a sudden, light flared in the room as fire lit up in a circle around you.

Holy oil, you thought, but you pushed it aside for now. The glow of the flames had lit up two humans standing outside the ring with identical looks of shock on their faces and it was them you were interested in.

“Azrael’s a chick,” The shorter one said. “A hot chick.”

The taller one shot the shorter one a look, then glanced apprehensively at you. You crossed your arms over your chest, letting mild annoyance creep into your features, and waited for one of them to speak. You had learned long ago that this would give you the upper hand in a conversation.

“Hi,” The tall one said. “Sorry for the holy oil, but we couldn’t risk you attacking us, or leaving. I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean.”

He paused, clearly waiting for you to speak, but you stayed silent. Of course you had heard about the Winchester brothers, who hadn’t? But you weren’t going to let him know that. He took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

“We’re hoping you can help us. Our mother is stuck in an alternate reality and we really need to get her back. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

You snorted derisively. “What makes you think I’m going to help you get your little mommy back?” You sneered at him. “What makes you think that you’ll leave this place alive?”

“You’re the one surrounded by holy oil, remember?” Dean said. “You’re the one who will never leave if we don’t want you to.”

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was right. “Why would you think I could help you?”

“We, uh, we saw your name in a book.” Sam answered. “And since the others are indisposed, we thought we’d talk to you.”

“Others?”

“Other archangels.”

“What do you mean, indisposed?”

“Well, Gabriel and Raphael are dead, Michael’s in the Cage, and Lucifer is in the other place with our mother.”

You tried to conceal your shock. You had known about Gabriel and Raphael, but you hadn’t known what had happened with Michael and Lucifer. After all, you had been kicked out of Heaven a long time ago and found it difficult to keep up on the gossip. News of the archangels’ deaths had traveled fast, but what had happened between the brothers wasn’t well known. You did know the apocalypse hadn’t happened though, so someone had stopped those two imbeciles from ripping each other apart. You took a moment to gather yourself.

“I’ll repeat my question. Why do you think I can help you?”

Sam looked at Dean and took another deep breath. “Right before the Nephilim was born, a rip in the universe appeared. Lucifer and our mother fell through that rip. Because it clearly had something to do with Jack being born, we thought you might know something about it.”

“What Nephilim?” You asked, startled. You were afraid you already knew the answer.

“Lucifer’s.” Dean retorted. “Can you help us or not?”

You didn’t answer right away as Dean had just confirmed your fears. Was Lucifer trying to get himself killed? He knew what the penalty was for creating a hybrid. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Where is this Nephilim now? Did you kill it?”

“That’s not the issue here, lady-” Dean began angrily, but you cut him off.

“It is the issue and it’s a bigger issue than you realize, human.” You snarled. “The spawn of an archangel and a human is stronger than anything else in the universe. It could decide to tear this planet apart and no one would be able to stop it. Now, did you kill it?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “No.”

You rubbed your face with your hand, careful not to disturb your makeup. “Maybe you two dolts should start at the beginning. You’re the idiots who let Lucifer out of his Cage, right? Start from there and catch me up.”

So they did. They told you how Michael had possessed their younger half-brother and Lucifer had possessed Sam, but Sam was able to take over his body long enough to fling both him and Michael’s vessel back into the Cage using the Four Horsemen’s Rings. They told you about the Mark of Cain and accidently unleashing God’s sister on an unsuspecting world, and how Sam sought out Lucifer for help. Lucifer had inhabited their angel friend, Castiel, unbeknownst to them, and was cavorting around the planet. He inhabited a couple other vessels, including the President, before Sam and Dean tried to put him back in his Cage. Sometime during that tenure as President, he slept with an aide and created the Nephilim. During the ceremony to put Lucifer back in his Cage, the King of Hell, who was now dead, had secretly trapped Lucifer in Hell and tried to make a slave out of him, but the Devil somehow wiggled out of that one. They all had collided at a lake house, where Castiel had taken the mother of the Nephilim to give birth. A rip in the fabric of the universe had opened, and Sam and Dean had seen the other side. A wasteland where demons ran around. It was what would have happened had the apocalypse occurred. They made it back, but were unable to stop the Nephilim from being born. Sometime in the ensuing chaos, their mother had pushed Lucifer into the rip but had fallen through herself. The rip closed right behind them. They had brought the Nephilim back to their bunker and now here you all were.

You were silent a few moments, trying to reconcile the old Lucifer you had known with what the boys had told you. It was hard. The Lucifer you had known had been warm, funny, and kind. At least, he had been until the First War with Amara. The war had changed him and the Mark he had received afterwards had changed him too. He no longer carried the Mark, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. Absently you wondered if all his years in the Cage had driven him insane. He had been thunderously angry with you when you left him there, but he hadn’t seemed like he was on the brink of madness. Then again, that was just after Michael had put him in there, and had cast you out of Heaven permanently. He had been stuck down there by himself for eons. You felt your stomach twist at the thought of him being alone, but you shoved it aside. You stood by your words that you had said to him the day you saw him in the Cage. No matter how you felt about him, he had more than deserved his punishment. And you had deserved yours.

“What book did you find my name in?” You asked suddenly.

Sam answered immediately: “A Historia de Caelo. Written by Titsanaphalus.”

You chuckled at the name. “Ohhh Gabriel, you sly dog.”

“What does Gabriel have to do with this?” Dean asked.

“Really?” You asked sarcastically. “Tits-ana-phalus? Tits and a phallus? You really couldn’t figure that one out?”

The boys looked at each other and you could almost see the lightbulbs turn on in their brains.

“I just thought it was an old-timey name,” Dean muttered. “Like Aristotle.”

“Well, guess again.”

Sam spoke up: “Why did Gabriel write a book? And how did it end up here?”

“He wrote it because I destroyed all the other tomes that had my name in them.” You answered absently, wrapped up in your thoughts. “At least, that’s what I think happened. He never told me about this.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Dean said, anger starting to rise in his voice. “Are you going to help us or not?”

You raised your chin and looked down your nose at the human. You had been avoiding your past for eons, but because of Gabriel, these humans had found you and pushed it back in your face. It was most likely the reason he had written the book. You were at a crossroads. Helping the brothers probably meant facing Lucifer again. He had been your closest companion at one time. Part of you was crying out that he could be saved, that you had to find him and bring him home and help him redeem himself, and the other part of you was screaming for you to run in the other direction. You wanted to side with the latter part, but you knew you couldn’t just leave Lucifer in that other dimension/universe/whatever the hell it was. He might have deserved to be locked in the Cage, but he didn’t deserve this.

“I’ll help you.” You said finally. The brothers looked relieved for moment until you continued. “But we’re bringing Lucifer back too.”

“I don’t think so!” Dean snarled at you.

You gazed calmly back at him. “That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”

“He’s just going to try to cause mayhem.” Sam pleaded. “That’s all he wants. We should leave him where he is.”

“I’m not leaving him there. No matter his faults, he is my brethren and I am bringing him home.”

“This might have been a mistake, Sammy.” Dean said, his eyes never coming off of you. “She might join Lucifer in his destruction.”

You sneered at him. “I would never do that, little human. I have lived for millions upon millions of years on this planet and I could have joined him once you morons let him out the first time. But I didn’t. Plus I’m the only one can handle him. You’re talking to the one being who is stronger than he is.”

“Except for Jack.” Sam said.

“Who?”

“The Nephilim. His name is Jack.”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure how to feel about the Nephilim, but everything in you screamed that it was a perversion.

“True.” You conceded. “Now, do you still want my help?”

They looked at each again, then back at you. Dean nodded. “Yes.”

Sam brought out a few buckets of water and they doused the flames. You all stared at each other for a moment and you realized they were waiting for you to do something, either disappear or attack. You did neither, merely crossed your arms.

“I want to see him.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“The Nephilim. Jack. Whatever. I want to see Lucifer’s son.”

#lucifer #supernatural lucifer #lucifer spn #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer fic #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #supernatural lucifer x reader #supernatural lucifer x you #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural family

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cecehathaway · 7 years

Text

Marry Me | Para

Dorothy sat in the passenger’s seat of her dad’s ‘69 triple black Mustang convertible--her sister, Lena, in the driver’s seat, pulling up at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. A portion of it had been blocked off and reserved for the small wedding ceremony and reception but as there was nowhere to get ready at the site so her sister met her at her apartment and helped ready her from head to toe. Once they found the reserved parking nearest to the site, Lena pulled the convertible’s roof back, storing it properly away before helping Dorothy out of the car. “Do you want your flats now or do you wanna save them for later?” Lena asked, grabbing their bouquets and a small bag of supplies from the back seat: makeup for touch-ups, an extra pair of shoes, a water bottle and a bag of mixed nuts to snack on if Dorothy got hungry before things got started; a travel sewing kit, safety pins, and several packs of tissues. Meanwhile, Dorothy stood near the car, heart hammering hard behind her rib cage. “The flats,” she whispered and slid her pedicured toes in once they were on the ground. In the past two months she’d been spending getting to know Will, there were a few times where she wished this day had come sooner, and even fewer times where she wished it could be pushed back out of fear of the possibility that things might change for the worse between them. It was unreal how well things had been between them that she couldn’t help anticipating them hitting a not-so-shallow speed bump like the one they had on their first date. Shutting her eyes, she had taken her dozenth deep breath but Lena’s words made her open her eyes again. “Hey, Dottie. I know you’re nervous--don’t deny it. But don’t go putting extra and unnecessary pressure and worries on yourself, alright? Here.” Dorothy looked down and saw her sister holding her bouquet out--an arrangement of peonies, all in different shades of pink. With something to occupy her trembling hands now, Dorothy let her sister’s advice echo in her mind and started inside the gardens, the two sisters taking a shorter path than she and Will had when they visited it together. Lena walked just behind her, holding the soft pleats of her train off of the ground until they reached the ceremony site. There was a spot just out of sight of the guests and the path across the bridge where she would follow Daina and her sister in a matter of moments.

Willwas rubbing his hands together, the smooth skin suddenly feeling extremely cold as the time for the ceremony drew closer. He needed some kind of pep talk, someone to tell him that it would all be okay, that he was in love and wanted to do this, but as he saw Heather walking towards him, he let out a sigh, but put on a smile as he saw the small belly that was currently growing his niece or nephew. He really wasn’t in the mood for another one from her, especially after he saw that she’d aired his dirty secrets to all his friends. Things had been tense ever since but as he fiddled with his tie, he figured now was a good time to bury the hatchet. “Hey big bro.” She said, coming up to him, her hands expertly tying the knot in his bowtie. “I know we don’t have a lot of time but I wanted to apologize. I never should have told your friends what I did and I’m sorry. I was just… I wanted them to know you. To understand you like I do. I know it doesn’t make it right but that’s why I did it.” Heather said, wrapping her arms around his waist as she hugged him. “I just worry about you. I don’t want you to start drinking again.” She finished, her eyes filling with tears but she wiped them away quickly. “Listen, I love you Heather, but now isn’t really a good time for this kind of talk. I’m getting married soon and I don’t need this right now. Just go sit with mom and dad and I’ll find you after the ceremony, okay? I love you but I don’t need you right now.” He spoke, his voice cracking as he buttoned up the cufflinks. He took a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of his sister and what she had done out of his head, as he headed out of the tent and towards the altar to wait for Dorothy.

Dorothy listened to the background music playing about the ceremony site while her sister helped her switch from her flats to the lavender pumps she picked out. Speakers were discretely hung amongst the surrounding trees and when she peeked out at the ceremony site, she saw the array of colorful buds and flowers in bloom. Bunches of peonies hung from the bridge, and she could see the small metal buckets lining the outermost chairs of each row, knowing they were filled with tea light candles and more blossom. She saw some distance away, the glass spheres with candles inside, hanging from the trees that led down the short path toward the reception. The butterflies that filled her stomach when she was here for their first date returned in full. She briefly relaxed her grip on her bouquet and ended up focusing on the way her hands gave away her nervousness until her eyes fell on her bare ring finger. The wild beating against her heart seemed to slowly calm as everything around her. She could perfectly envision the ring that would soon be back on her finger and with it was coming a lifetime of commitment to Will. The tug of war within her was currently having a clear winner--she wasn’t anchored to her fears and not only did she know that the best thing for her to do for herself was to be present in what was happening here and now, but she believed it. She believed it enough to close her fingers back around her bouquet with a confidence that previously hadn’t been. With perfect timing, the music changed to the light strumming on an acoustic guitar to Train’s “Marry Me”, cueing the start of the ceremony. She watched her bridesmaid and matron of honor precede her down the path and across the pond bridge toward the altar. Once the guests were invited by the officiant to please stand and greet the bride, Dorothy looked down at herself, mostly to make sure she wouldn’t trip. Gripping her bouquet like it held her newfound confidence, she lifted her head and started down the path towards the bridge--the music and lyrics, the surroundings and the anticipating for seeing Will all causing a new sort of jitters to bubble inside her.

The decorations were beyond what Will and Dorothy could have imagined during their initial meeting. Sure they’d discussed what they wanted and added details to make it the best it could be in the short amount of time, but to see it come to life and look as if months and months of planning had gone into it, made him smile. The butterflies in his stomach had come to life in the moments since arriving at the altar and when he spotted his family, his smile grew. He wasn’t ready to make nice with his sister but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want her there for the wedding. Looking around at all the guests and members of their families, it felt familiar but also completely new. He never pictured himself doing this again for the second time but after these short months, he felt comfortable enough to say that Dorothy was the one. He knew it in his heart. She had healed him, she made him believe in love again, and he would be able to sleep comfortably next to her knowing and believing that she was hand picked by Kayla. She knew everything about him and it was only right she be the one to pick the next woman for him to love. As his head filled with thoughts of the past two months, he thought of all their conversations, all their dates, the night she slept over on his birthday, it was all building up to this. A short 15 minute ceremony that would make them bonded for life. He secretly wondered what Dorothy was going to look like, if he had picked the right tuxedo but figured that a gray suit would look good against the many pastel floral patterns that adorned the gardens. He had opted for a light blue flower to pin to his lapel, figuring a small splash of color might make the scene perfect. Finally, he heard the music start up and the song they’d chosen together started playing. The nerves were starting to rear up but he kept his eyes focused on the bridge, not wanting to miss a single moment. He made eye contact with her sister and smiled again, before focusing back on the bridge, wishing it were shorter. He glanced at his dad, pointing to the pocket that had the ring, asking if it was still there. David just laughed and nodded, giving his son a quick hug as the officiant asked that everyone rise. Will turned his attention to the end of the carpet and waited.

Rather than walking up an aisle, the arrangement was for Dorothy to be led straight to Will from the bridge. The path curved slightly so she hadn’t come into sight of Will or the altar until her shoes were on the wooden bridge. She briefly glanced over to their small gathering of guests--her friend and colleague, Daina; her ex-turned good friend, Alby and his mother, and her sister and brother-in-law were all reserved front row seats alongside Will’s family. She was vaguely aware of Henna taking photos but she had taken her eyes off of the intimate spectacle around her. Her heartbeart started thumping a little harder again, responding to her anxiousness building until her brown eyes fell on her soon-to-be husband. He was waiting right there. For her. Her breath hitched high in her throat while tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. She forced her lips together to remind herself to breathe again but the deep inhale through her nose hadn’t stopped her eyes from filling with tears. While internally cursing herself for not being able to completely hold it together, she glanced up at the sky, not trusting herself to successfully wipe away the makeup that wasn’t waterproof. Patrick Monahan crooning the beautiful song’s chorus through her walk certainly hadn’t helped as a thin, shallow stream spilled down her cheeks. Dorothy fervently prayed that Will wouldn’t get the wrong idea as she tearfully approached him. Unable to take it anymore, she moved her bouquet to one hand and lightly dabbed under each of her eyes, sniffing and breathing a soft laugh which allowed her smile to return. The music faded to a close and after the officiant permitted their guests to take their seats again, Dorothy managed to get her tears under control but struggled to be as attentive to his words of greeting that soon followed. Her eyes were fixated on Will and her mind had her feeling like he was someone she had gotten to know much longer than the two months that breezed by and brought them to this day.

Will didn't want to miss a minute of her entrance and the long walk to his side but as he looked out over the crowd, his eyes fell on several people he knew. A few of his friends from his old firm, who had rather unsuccessfully, begged him to come back. They'd had a good laugh the night before when they'd gone out for drinks, Will opting for one beer and then a water. His sister's concern that his sobriety was being threatened wasn't exactly unwarranted but he knew his limits, he knew when to say no. Except for perhaps the night of his birthday but that was a celebration and didn't count. A few of his childhood neighbors had shown up, no doubt invited by his parents, as a way to fill seats on his side. Will hadn't anticipated the turnout but was still glad it was small. The whole time the music was playing, Will's eyes kept looking towards the bridge, hoping that she would soon step into view, and the rest of their lives could finally begin. Seeing Henna snapping photos brought his attention back to the bridge and to the faintest hint of white through the trees and hanging lanterns. He felt his eyes already forming tears as she finally came into view. “Wow.” He muttered, sniffling quietly as their eyes locked. In that moment, they were the only two people here and she was walking towards him, ready to start their journey into married bliss together. He didn't care that there were tears in his eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and she was walking to him. His heart pounded against his chest, and he felt an overwhelming sense of relief and terror and happiness all come into the forefront of his mind. He knew there were things still left to discuss and things still left to do, but for right now, all that mattered was the few short steps to the altar, the vows they'd repeat, the kiss they would share, and the tears they'd shed when it was over. Seeing the tears in her own eyes, Will smiled, reaching up to wipe one away. There was no doubt in his mind they held the same meaning his own tears did and as he the officiant told everyone to sit, he took that time to wipe them away. And then his hands were down and holding Dorothy's and for a brief moment, time stopped. He whispered a ‘hi’ to her before smiling, his eyes never leaving her face.

Dorothy’s face was already warm but she wasn’t aware of just how much until Will’s fingertips brushed across her face. She’d given him a grateful smile and breathed a small laugh, ducking her head only to look directly back up at him. After a light sniff and a new smile coming to her face, Dorothy whispered back, “Hiya, cowboy,” before the officiant proceeded with the ceremony. One of her hands remained firmly gripped around her bouquet while the other held Will’s with a sureness. She was doing her best to listen to the man’s words but it all seemed so distant as she kept her cleared gaze fixed on her soon-to-be husband’s bright green eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped she would remember to thank her sister for insisting they have video taken for the ceremony and highlights of the reception. It wasn’t until the officiant spoke of she and Will deciding to exchange their own vows that Dorothy took her eyes off of Will and looked to the officiant who said, “You're about to make promises to each other that you intend to keep. You're going to vow to take care of each other, to stand up for one another, and find happiness in the other. There's a simple premise to each of these promises: you're vowing to be there. You're teaming up and saying to the other, "Every experience I am going to have, I want you to be a part of.’ With that in mind, the couple will exchange rings along with their own vows, beginning with Will to Dorothy.” Dorothy then looked back to Will with that familiar flutter starting in her stomach again.

He could feel the warmth in her face and it only made the smile on his grow wider, almost as if teasing her without actually saying anything. He was thankful that Henna had not decided to do a close-up of his face because everyone would be able to see the puffy eyes and wet eyelashes from his earlier crying. He had never been shy about being an emotional person but it was supposed to be a happy day and tears always seemed to hold a negative connotation. Hearing the nickname that he'd grown so fond of over the past few months made his chuckle slightly more audible. Staring into his almost wife's face made him think back to all the trials they'd faced and all the ones they had yet to conquer. It wasn't going to be easy, there would be days where they would piss each other off but if the butterflies in his stomach and the pounding in his chest was any indication, it was all going to be okay. Couples fought and then they made up. He didn't think there was anything they could do or say that would tear them apart. It was scary to think he was basing all this on the way he felt in his heart but that was the definition of love right? When the officiant finished with what he had to say, it fell on Willto take the next step and he cleared his throat, hoping that his voice didn't crack as he repeated the words he'd been practicing all week. Fetching the heirloom ring from his pocket, he slid the engagement ring, this time with a new addition, onto her finger. “Dorothy Ayanna McCoy,” he paused, a small smirk playing on his lips, “I had to ask your sister for your middle name so shh..” He started, his face breaking into a smile as the wedding guests chuckled and laughed. He was a bundle of nerves as he silently repeated the words that had become ingrained in his mind. “You are an amazing woman and it has been my honor to get to know you these past few months. I know its silly to think that you've found your soul mate after so little time together but when I met you, I was a broken man. My heart was shattered and I didn't think that it would ever be fixed. And I thought I was okay with that. The day I got my letter, I knew my life would never be the same. I was scared and nervous and excited all rolled into one. When you walked into my shop that day, I had no idea the impact you would have on my life. We've had our share of speedbumps and insecurities but that's only made us stronger.” He paused, reaching up to wipe his eyes, not caring that he was crying in front of all of their guests. “You've changed me for the better, you helped heal my broken heart and made me feel something again. I know we still have a lot of learning left to do and we may fight and go hours without talking but I’ll eventually crack because you’re impossible to stay mad at.” He grinned, giving her a small wink. “I just want you to know that I look forward to spending the rest of our lives figuring us out.” He finished, sniffling audibly as he continued to wipe his eyes.

Dorothy hadn’t any trouble looking to Will again as he started on their vows. She softly chuckled right along with their guests when he revealed his source for getting her middle name ad at the same time, she gave his hand a small squeeze. Listening to him tell how she had affected his life already, and watching his eyes brim with fresh tears, she felt her own eyes prick and attempt to get her going again but she held herself together with a closed-lipped smile that reached her eyes. She glanced down, watching him place his grandmother’s ring on her finger, along with a second band she hadn’t seen before. Seeing the way it fit on her finger, with the ring he initially gave her made her momentarily stop breathing but she soon remembered to. As her turn to say her vows was then instructed by the officiant, Dorothy looked to Lena, just as the older of the two sisters briefly approached the altar, long enough to exchange Dorothy’s bouquet for the titanium and white gold band Dorothy picked out for him. The bride closed her free hand around the token and resumed gazing up at Will, raising her manicured thumb up to kindly wipe away a stray tear from his cheek as he’d done for her. Knowing that he favored his nickname over his full name, she said, “Well, since I’m not here to scold you, I’ll stick with ‘Will’...” Her teeth shone slightly through her own mild joke and the murmur of amusement from their guests. “Will, there’s a mug I have that says ‘Without fear, there is no courage’. In the time we’ve been together, you have helped me take so many of the fears I’ve had and transform them into courage. The courage to take chances for us, on us. There’s more here between us than a law. I feel it. And I am so grateful to you for being the kind of person who affects me in a way where I want to act on my feelings and not always get caught up in my own head--as you already know I’m very good at doing that.” Glancing down for only a second, she renewed her gaze to him with a soft smile, “I vow to be the best version of myself that I can be for you and our future, whatever it may look like. I vow to keep learning and growing with you. I know how wrapped up in my head I can get, and how I tend to behave when I’m mad, so... I vow to do my best to keep talking, even when we may be upset with each other. I promise to be there for you whenever you need me, and I will always remind you that there’s nothing you or I will have to go at alone, going forward.” There was more she was certain she’d had to say when writing this out for herself but the words weren’t coming to her now; instead, she concluded her vows with, “Even in times when I may not like you, I promise to love you. Always.” The middle of her final vow was paused with a small wink and a smirk on her part and when she finished, she lowered her gaze to watch herself place the band on Will’s finger, all the while surprised at herself for keeping it together for her part of the vows.

The hard part is over now,Willthought as the officiant waited while he put the ring on her finger. He was kind of nervous about whether she would like the new setting and the rose gold coloring but seeing her eyes light up as he placed it there put those nerves to rest. He knew he had skipped certain parts of his vows, opting to leave them out voluntarily because it was neither the time nor the place to say them. There might have been an 'I love you' stuck in the original draft but Will didn't want his first time saying those words to be in a crowd of people, no, they should be said in private to these person they're meant for. Perhaps on their vacation he might pluck up the courage to say what he'd known in his heart since his birthday. Giving his wife a smile, he watched as she took the ring from her sister and while he was mildly upset with himself that her ring didn't match his, he had to remind himself that nothing about this marriage was traditional. It was planned from the start by the government, it wasn't an option so by default, there wasn't a reason to go out and buy a ring. But Will was a traditionalist nonetheless and Dorothy definitely deserved a sense of normalcy in this otherwise unorthodox wedding. He was just thankful to his parents for allowing him to use his grandmother's ring. He leaned into her touch when she wiped the tear and gave her an encouraging smile. He shook his head and laughed at the scolding part, looking out at his parents and wondering if they'd told her about that part of his upbringing. Listening to her talk about all the positive influences he'd had on her and how she felt about him, made his heart flutter, something that hadn't happened since Kayla. There was such a deep unspoken affection he had for her that he couldn't put into words and too know that she had felt it as well only deepened his love for her. The more she talked, the more his eyes brimmed with tears and by the end of it, he was sure his face was red and extremely unattractive but he carried on, letting go of one of her hands to wipe his eyes. Feeling the cool metal sit snugly on his finger, for the second time in his life, brought a new sense of relief and worry to his face. The first time was easy because it was planned, he had time to get to know her, to determine if she was the right person for him. This time it was all different. There was the marriage and then the getting to know you part. Dorothy was outspoken, opinionated, and seemed to make friends easily whereas he was more laid back and reserved, preferring to have one or two close friends as opposed to a group. It was certainly going to be a journey and a wild ride but he was prepared, for the most part. He let out a sigh, squeezing Dorothy's hand as the officiant read a quick passage from the Bible. Once it was over, he grasped their hands and held it, looking to the both of them. “Now, that the rings have been exchanged, there's just one thing left. Dorothy, Will, guests and family, by the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He said, before looking up at Will and smiling. “You may now kiss the bride.” He let go of their hands and Will wasted no time pulling her flush against him and lifting her chin, his eyes falling shut as he tenderly pressed his lips to hers.

Dorothy smiled softly, watching Will’s reaction and thankful that they chose to recite their own vows. She intended to wipe away the fresh tears from his eyes but he had beaten her to it and she gave his ring-wielding hand a gentle squeeze. It wasn’t until Lena approached once more to give her her bouquet back, and the officiant took hold of hers and Will’s hands that she had been really attentive to what the officiant was saying. Her eyes went from the man who married them to the man who was now declared her husband, a strange giddiness rushing through her in anticipation of what was to come next. Automatically, Will circled her arms--bouquet and all--around the back of her new husband’s neck, tilting her head only a second before their lips met. Her foot began to raise much like it had the first time they kissed here in the gardens, but her foot was resisted by the train on her dress. Smiling against his lips, Dorothy felt tempted to deepen the kiss as she often did when her lips met but given their audience, she only matched Will’s gentleness and hadn’t pulled away until some time after their guests applauded them and the near end of their ceremony. She kept her arms around him while murmuring to him, “You just kissed a married woman, cowboy.”

When the officiant declared them husband and wife, the butterflies that had, since first meeting Dorothy, been fluttering off and on, flourished and his insides felt as if they might literally burst from the happiness he was feeling. Whether it was the honeymoon stage still or the anticipation of their new life together, all Will could feel was happy. Pulling her close, feeling their bodies together again, made his smile go wide, his dimples prominent to everyone who could see them, and when he kissed her, he was taken back to their first time in the carriage, and the many times after, and while it wouldn’t have been hard to deepen it, he didn’t want to turn this into a full on makeout session… that would be saved for later during the ride to his house to pack for their adventure. He still had no idea where Dorothy had planned for them to go and he didn’t care so long as they were together and happy. When he felt her body shift again, like it had at the Gardens the first time, he chuckled into the kiss, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around. He broke the kiss only when she was safely back on the ground. Hearing her words, he laughed and shook his head. “Well I certainly hope he’s not here because I don’t want a fight to break out.” He teased, grabbing her hand to hold it as they turned to face the crowd. “Thank you all so much for coming. The reception will be in just a few minutes. Just follow the arrows down the path and it’ll be on your right. My wife and I will be down there shortly.” He said, turning to look their friends and family. They conversed for a few minutes with some of the stragglers and finally once the crowd had dispersed, he finally turned to look at his wife. “Well Mrs. Turner, are you ready?” He asked, grabbing her hand when she nodded. “Let’s go have our first dance.”

#para: Marry Me #ch: WillT #willthebaker #mlawdw

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ministrynuggets-blog · 5 years

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Know Your Invisible Enemies

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

Ephesians 6:12

Enemies come in two forms: visible and invisible. Christians must know the invisible enemy they are dealing with. To wage a war without knowing or understanding your invisible enemy is perhaps the greatest mistake you can ever make. Who are the enemies we are supposed to know. You must know all about the visible and invisible enemies of your life. Let us start with the invisible enemies. Your invisible enemies occupy the dark and unseen world.

The invisible enemies of your life are categorised in different ways to help you know and understand them. Knowing about them is very important to help you to fight them. Below is a list of invisible enemies that we have to deal with. These invisible enemies are spirits that exist in a realm that you cannot see. You must know about them and fight them if you are going to be successful in your war.

Spies, double agents, traitors, liars are all invisible enemies you must fight with. They will never come out openly and declare war on you. In fact, they will declare friendship with you but fight you secretly. Invisible enemies do not want you to expose their cover. They want to stay out of sight so they can be more effective. Evil spirits prefer you to believe that they do not exist. They are overjoyed when you say they are not there. Europeans claim there is no God and there is no devil and this has given Satan a free hand in Europe.

When it comes to dealing with invisible enemies, the more you say about them and the more you expose their existence, the weaker they become. No spy would like you to even mention the subject of spies and spying. No spy would feel comfortable if an announcement is made that there is a spy amongst us. His mouth would become dry and he would immediately become nervous because people would start looking around and start wondering which one is the spy.

In the list below, you will find different types of evil spirits who do not want you to know they exist. Every single one of these spirits is real. They do not like the fact that I have listed them in this book. In another book, I shall be sharing even more details of their activities, manoeuvres, operations and how you can deal with them.

Invisible Enemies

1. Fly and insect spirits:

But when the Pharisees heard it, they said, This fellow doth not cast out devils, but by BEELZEBUB THE PRINCE OF THE DEVILS.

And Jesus knew their thoughts, and said unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand:

And if Satan cast out Satan, he is divided against himself; how shall then his kingdom stand?

And if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your children cast them out? therefore they shall be your judges.

Matthew 12:24-27

2. Unclean and hateful bird spirits:

And after these things I saw another angel come down from heaven, having great power; and the earth was lightened with his glory. And he cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the HABITATION OF DEVILS, and the hold of every foul spirit, and A CAGE OF EVERY UNCLEAN AND HATEFUL BIRD.

Revelation 18:1-2

3. Unclean animal spirits:

And I saw THREE UNCLEAN SPIRITS LIKE FROGS come out of the mouth of the dragon, and out of the mouth of the beast, and out of the mouth of the false prophet.

For they are the spirits of devils, working miracles, which go forth unto the kings of the earth and of the whole world, to gather them to the battle of that great day of God Almighty.

Revelation 16:13-14

And he became very hungry, and would have eaten: but while they made ready, he fell into a trance, And saw heaven opened, and a certain vessel descending unto him, as it had been a great sheet knit at the four corners, and let down to the earth: Wherein were all manner of FOURFOOTED BEASTS of the earth, and WILD BEASTS, AND CREEPING THINGS, AND FOWLS OF THE AIR. And there came a voice to him, Rise, Peter; kill, and eat. But Peter said, Not so, Lord; for I HAVE NEVER EATEN ANY THING THAT IS COMMON OR UNCLEAN.

Acts 10:10-14

4. Sea and marine spirits:

And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw A BEAST RISE UP OUT OF THE SEA, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.

Revelation 13:1

Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

Job 41:1

There go the ships: there is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein.

Psalms 104:26

5. Principalities

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against PRINCIPALITIES, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

Ephesians 6:12

6. Powers

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against POWERS, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

Ephesians 6:12

7. Rulers of the dark world

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the RULERS OF THE DARKNESS of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

Ephesians 6:12

8. Wicked spirits in high places

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against SPIRITUAL WICKEDNESS in high places.

Ephesians 6:12

9. Thrones

For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be THRONES, or dominions, or principalities, or powers: all things were created by him, and for him:

Colossians 1:16

10. Dominions

For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or DOMINIONS, or principalities, or powers: all things were created by him, and for him:

Colossians 1:16

11. Lucifer

How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!

For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north:

I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High.

Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit.

Isaiah 14:12-15

12. Fallen angels

And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels,

And prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: HE WAS CAST OUT INTO THE EARTH, AND HIS ANGELS WERE CAST OUT WITH HIM.

Revelation 12:7-9

13. Fallen angel-human hybrids: The “Nephilim” - giants, bullies and tyrants

There were GIANTS (NEPHILIM) in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.

Genesis 6:4

14. Fallen angel-human hybrids: The “Gibborim” - strong, brave might men

There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became MIGHTY MEN (GIBBORIM) which were of old, men of renown.

Genesis 6:4

15.Fallen angel-human hybrids: The “Sem” - famous men

There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, MEN OF RENOWN (SEM).

Genesis 6:4

16. Fallen angel-animal hybrids

But when he saw Jesus afar off, he ran and worshipped him, And cried with a loud voice, and said, What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of the most high God? I adjure thee by God, that thou torment me not.

For he said unto him, Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit. And he asked him, What is thy name? And he answered, saying, My name is Legion: for we are many.

And he besought him much that he would not send them away out of the country. Now there was there nigh unto the mountains a great herd of swine feeding.

And all the devils besought him, saying, Send us into the swine, that we may enter into them. And forthwith Jesus gave them leave. And the unclean spirits went out, and entered into the swine: and the herd ran violently down a steep place into the sea, (they were about two thousand;) and were choked in the sea.

Mark 5:6-13

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ckneal · 3 years

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So, I’ve had this idea kicking around in my head for a little while now, based on this premise: What if, due to some wire crossing that Chuck never anticipated, because he never anticipated Jack, or his powers, or that Jack might use his powers to tear open a portal to one of his cast off-worlds, allowing a scrapped draft of Michael to waltz over into the main canon universe, the OG Michael experiences some side effects? Such as, perhaps, his grace syncing up with the AU’s, causing his appearance to change for seemingly no reason, unaware that it’s corresponding with the other Michael changing vessels?

And as this is going on, Michael and Adam are at different stages in processing how they view one another. Adam’s just at the tail end of digesting the fact that he might be bisexual. Sure, there might be times when he and Michael are talking, and Michael says something, or—god forbid—laughs, and Adam feels this warm rush of affection, but that could just be something that happens when you’re part of a friendship that’s gotten this close. And, so what if he occasionally thinks about what might happen if they kissed, doesn’t everyone have that thought from time to time? That’s probably normal. And anyway, Michael looks just like him. Maybe he’s just getting vain.

But then, right in the middle of a conversation one day, Michael’s grace suddenly goes haywire. There’s this blinding flash, and Michael’s human form changes to that of the AU Michael’s apocalypse vessel. Dark hair, long coat, delicious beard, and neither of them have any idea why.

And this change is jarring for Adam. But it’s even more so for Michael, because, firstly, why did this happen? But also because, when he separated himself from Adam in the cage, for the sake of “privacy,” which Adam had made a big to-do about, Michael might have glossed over the fact that he couldn’t actually separate their minds completely. And, to a certain degree, a large part of maintaining their agreement, unbeknownst to Adam, involves Michael pretending that he doesn’t hear the odd fragment of a thought trickle over from Adam’s head. So, when Michael looks down at himself, at his hands and his new clothes, and then asks Adam what he looks like, he hears:

Holy shit—gorgeous—fucking hell—take me now. . .

“. . .Different.”

And with time moving more slowly in Hell than it does on earth, even though AU Michael only briefly wore this vessel after he crossed over, this new look sticks around for a little while for OG Michael and Adam. Which initially changes their dynamic a bit. Michael begins to wonder if he should tell Adam that his thoughts are not as infallibly private as Adam had been led to believe. However, there’s only so much entertainment in the cage, and there is something unspeakably gratifying about the fact that now, when he and Adam get into a debate, and Adam has a really solid argument going, Michael can stretch his neck like he’s trying to work out a kink, and hear Adam’s train of thought come to a screeching halt as he helplessly imagines what it would feel like to nuzzle into the expose skin. The thought generally only lasts a second or so, but inevitably costs Adam his footing the conversation every time, as it’s usually followed by Adam chastising himself for upwards of twenty minutes.

On one occasion, while discussing something called Kohlberg’s stages of morality, Michael evidently said Adam’s name in such a way that made him excuse himself to the far side of the cage, where Michael knew for a fact Adam spent the entire time scowling at the ceiling and thinking:

Creep—Stop staring at him—Not his fault he looks—sexy—gorgeous—fucking get it together. . .

Michael is aware that he has no business finding the whole situation as amusing as he does. After all, if Adam were to ever act on his errant thoughts, Michael would have to tell him that, as an angel of the Lord, entertaining any kind of relationship with a human would be utterly inappropriate. Angels simply didn’t do that sort of thing. . .

That said, a week or so later, Michael can hear Adam telling himself not to look at the dip in the V created by Michael’s new button-down shirt (it had arrived with the top two buttons undone, and Michael had refrained from altering it). Michael is getting ready to throw Adam off his game, again, when his grace flares. When the light subsides, Michael looks down at himself and sees that his human form has changed again. He looks up at Adam to ask what he looks like now, and Adam says. . .

Like an asshole.

“You look like Dean now. What happened?”

“I don’t know. . .”

Sadly, this change lasts significantly longer than the last one, and the awkward shift it causes in their dynamic is a lot less fun (for Michael). The second Michael’s face changes, Adam’s inner turmoil shifts from untoward appreciation, to a running loop of reminders that he’s looking at his brother’s face, which does not have nice eyes, and even if it did have nice eyes, the person looking out of them is a divine being with no interest in—in anything, and that the whole train of thought was sick, and redundant, and Michael didn’t mean to listen in, but he was already in the habit by this point.

Nor could Michael contradict Adam’s inner monologue, because of course Adam was right. Michael certainly wasn’t interested in—well, if anything, Michael was relieved that temptation had been taken out of Adam’s path. If Michael excused himself at one point to quietly explore the possibility of snapping himself back to the mysterious form from before, it was purely out of curiosity about the strange glitch in his powers, not for any other reason.

And, finding that, having never possessed or even seen the body in question, his attempts to revert to past vessels only brought up John Winchester’s form, Michael certainly didn’t feel disappointed. Nor did he spend the better part of an hour contemplating whether Adam’s father’s face would be an improvement over his brother’s, before remembering that he is not supposed to know or care about whether Adam is repulsed by his appearance.

Their rapport recovers, but nonetheless, they are both secretly relieved when Michael’s grace flares of its own volition once again. This time Michael is standing when the change happens, and the first thing he notices after is his height. This vessel was taller than Adam, or so it initially seemed, until Michael realized it was equipped with footwear that bolstered its natural height by a few inches. It was wearing fewer layers, and accessories securing its hair and dangling from its ears. Michael studied them with his hands.

“You look great,” Adam says before Michael has a chance to ask.

Obviously, Michael doesn’t care. By this point, Adam’s rush of lustful imaginings has become a relatively distant memory. Which made it all the more surprising when Michael was teaching Adam to speak Enochian sometime after the newest change. Michael was leaning forward, speaking slowly to show Adam precisely how he moved his lips and tongue around the syllables, but Adam’s accent was abysmal and distorted one word so badly that it threw off the entire sentence he was trying to say, and Michael briefly forgot himself to the point of actually laughing out loud—at which point, he heard the word Beautiful resonate through Adam’s mind.

Adam seemed to like this face. Words like “regal” and “stunning” crossed over from time to time, but, more significantly, Michael feels a surge of warmth come from him whenever Michael smiles—sometimes so intensely that the affection takes up residence in Adam’s eyes while they’re talking, and Michael can’t seem to look away.

After experiencing that, feeling his grace billow out of his control once again filled him with dread. Michael struggles to resist the change this time, but the flash of light comes nonetheless. Running his hands over his jaw afterward, and noting the familiar set of his legs, Michael knows before Adam says anything that he has changed into Dean Winchester again.

Adam chuckled when he saw Michael’s face. “You almost look disappointed.”

“Of course I’m not. I. . .I just wish I knew what was causing this.”

Once again, Dean’s face stays longer than it had any right to. To himself, Michael carefully thinks back over what he had been doing at the time of each change, wondering if he could possibly trigger another randomization. He had been talking each time—could it have been a key word or phrase, perhaps even a gesture or. . .thought?

Adam humors every experiment that Michael suggests, always with the same amused expression on his face. After the fourth or fifth failure, he says, gently, “You know, Dean’s face kind of suits you. Is it that bad?”

Michael retorts that this was not about vanity.

After all, Dean’s face is a reminder of their abandonment in the cage, and precisely what turn of events had led to Adam’s residency in particular. Michael would not force Adam to live with it peaceably when he should be capable of less offputting alternatives.

He’s overjoyed when the the now familiar surge of power finally courses through him again, and Adam has to bite his lip to stop his grin when Michael immediately begins running his hands over his new face. This vessel is the shortest to date; even with heels, Michael only stands as tall as Adam’s shoulder. This one also came with the most elaborate accessories. One of Michael’s new rings catches in the pins restraining his hair, necessitating the removal of both, and releasing a mane of shining red curls.

Adam helps him with the hair pins. And promptly grins when Michael’s thanks comes out in the cadence of a lilting Scottish accent.

Adam’s reaction to this one is easily the loudest since the first change. However, the words that Michael overhears run the gambit of Spitfire, Adorable, and Spritely—words that Michael is not accustomed to hearing in relation to himself, and not certain if he approves. He finally takes offense at the term pixie, and in the midst of a conversation about Purgatory, detours into a tangent about how angels and pixies are in no way similar to one another, regardless of humanity’s affinity for portraying the two specifies as humanoid beings with wings.

During this spiel, Michael fails to notice Adam raising an eyebrow at the abrupt segeway. He spends a minute, leaning against the side of the cage, half listening to Michael, while also trying to deduce how pixies came into the conversation. Then suddenly realization hits, and the fact that he is able to keep his face completely neutral is nothing short of a miracle.

Adam’s rather proud of the fact that he’s managed to get himself under control since coming to terms with his attraction toward Michael. Being around Michael after the first body swap had been difficult, and then confusing, after the second change put Michael in the shape of a blood relative, and not exactly a fondly remembered one at that. Self-control had become a matter of sanity for Adam, and, once he’d acknowledged his feelings to himself, vital for maintaining their friendship as it was. He hadn’t imagined making out with Michael against the side of the cage in ages. But now, with Michael’s tangent, with his fussing after each vessel change in mind, he had a hypothesis to test.

Michael was still talking when Adam’s fantasy hit him: Adam pushing away from the wall, three steps to close the distance between them, and then tilting Michael’s pixie-esque face upward to kiss him breathless. It was. . .very vivid. Michael could almost feel Adam’s arm slip around his waist, and the ghost-like caress of his tongue along his lips, requesting admittance. The fantasy cut short before request could be answered.

Adam bit back a grin watching Michael trip over his consonants. Even before he walked over, he could see the blush spreading out on Michael’s face. Michael doesn’t move back as Adam approaches him, coming in closer than he would normal go. Instead, Michael seems to lean into the closeness, tilting his own head back as his lips parted, eyes on Adam’s face. Adam’s tempted to run a hand along Michael’s jaw.

Then. . .

“.. .I’m sorry, I got distracted thinking about something. Can you repeat that last part?”

“W—Yes, of course.” Michael practically flies three steps back. “As I was saying—”

“Wait, Michael. . .”

“Yes?” When Michael, flustered, finally looks at Adam again, Adam is giving him a look that normally means a joke has gone over his head—though what the joke could be is beyond him. Michael tries to listen into Adam’s mind, but all he can detect is vague confusion.

Meanwhile, Adam is not sure whether he’s being rejected, or if Michael had honestly just missed the part where Adam caught him listening in on his thoughts red handed, and maybe caught him in something else too. Judging by the look on Michael’s face though, Adam was going to have to ask the question outright. . .

“You know, I think we got off topic. Let’s take it back to Purgatory.”

. . .But he cops out.

Shortly after the pixie incident, Michael experiences the opposite of the power surge that marks the onset of a change. His grace seems to short circuit for a moment, and when the riotous flickering subsides, he’s reverted to Adam’s form. What this means, neither of them know. They carry on, neither of them saying it, but both secretly braced for the next change. Instead, the next time Michael senses an unexplainable rush of power, the cage door swings open, and the two of them sit there gaping at their freedom for an embarrassingly long amount of time before either moves to step outside.

When they do, Michael is wary. He doesn’t know of many beings that could simply open the cage, and he can’t dismiss the thought that this might be a trap of some sort. He pulls the two of them back into one being and ventures out cautiously. He knows where the doorway to earth is, and can get there as easily on foot as by wing. . .but then they happen to pass by the new queen of Hell, seemingly out on some kind of procession. Which is unusual enough for Hell, since festivities are not typically done there, but more importantly, Michael gets caught on the queen’s appearance.

“Michael? Why are we stopping?”

“That woman.”

“Yes?”

“Doesn’t she look familiar?”

“Um. . .I don’t know? Why, is she some important bible-y character?”

“First, we are not characters, Adam, but also—” Michael struggles to articulate his thoughts. He’d seen that woman in Adam’s fantasy! She was attired differently, in red and gold, with her hair arranged in waves woven through with braids, but it was her. He knew for a fact that Adam had once gazed at her in amazement that he could find anyone so unreservedly endearing while they were in a “mood,” as Adam had put it, yet now he hardly seemed to notice her. To think that Adam could be so offhanded with his affections was disconcerting.

Michael sets it aside, but the thought cycles back when he and Adam are at the diner later.

“You really didn’t recognize that redhead?”

“Jeez, Michael, did you?” Adam shoots him a look as he takes a bite of his pizza. It’s the one that usually meant there was something humorous going on that Michael didn’t see.

One thing that had slipped Michael’s mind when he bound Adam and himself back together in Hell, was that their proximity would make Adam’s thoughts significantly easier to overhear. As Adam chews, Michael distinctly hears:

Go on, say it—You’re not going to say it—Say it, I dare you. . .

“What’s with the frown?” Adam says after swallowing and wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

“I’m still figuring that out.”

Adam chuckles as he picks a french fry off the plate of his first entrée. . . .Yeah, you’ll get there. . .

#the himbo and the coward: a cage story #Adam would think AU Michael's a reprehensible person #but those vessels are fine af #midam #this was not supposed to be this long when i started typing #my thoughts #if you think this is long you should see what happens when i’m TRYING to write a fic #adam milligan #supernatural michael

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