#don’t worry guys he’ll let you crash in his bunker one day.

[incorrectkismet17]

Trickee: I can't believe you live nearby, and you won't let anyone crash at your bunker.
Branch: You people already know too much about me. 
Ablaze: I know exactly three facts about you, and one of them is that you won't let any of us crash at your bunker.

[prouvaireafterdark]

We’ll Let the Flame Burn Once Again - a 3x07 Coda

My take on 3x08, with 100% more bed sharing, love confessions, and blow jobs than I’m sure canon will give us tomorrow.

Also on AO3!

***

Alex is halfway through the file on the Lockhart Machine when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Michael’s name flashes across the screen like an accusation when he digs it out of his coat.

“Fuck,” Alex sighs. He’d been so preoccupied with being kidnapped and faced with a life-changing career dilemma he’d completely forgotten that he’d never returned Michael’s voicemail or given anyone an update on the Kyle situation.

“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, I—” Alex starts when he answers the phone, but Michael cuts him off. 

“Are you home?” Michael asks sharply. He sounds panicked and out of breath, like he’s just been running for his life.

“Uh, no,” Alex answers. “Why, what’s wrong?”

The laugh Michael lets out is strangled and more than a little hysterical. “Better question would be what isn’t, but I’ll give you the cliff notes: Jones took over Max’s body and now he’s trying to kill us.”

“What?” Alex asks, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, and he’s also my fucking dad apparently,” Michael continues.

“What?” Alex says again. If that’s true, Alex has a few questions about where the hell those curls came from. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Michael says bitterly before he adds, all in a rush, “Look, I don’t know what he’s planning, but if he’s trying to get to me it’s only a matter of time before he goes after you and something tells me I won’t be able to build a bomb to get you back this time. You need to get somewhere safe, somewhere he won’t be able to find you.”

Is there anyone in this town who doesn’t know about our history? Alex wonders. 

He looks around at the wooden beams of the abandoned barn-turned hospital room he’s currently stuck in as he replies, “Don’t worry about me. I don’t think he’ll be able to find my location.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Alex assures him. If he knows Ramos half as well as he thinks he does, he’s pretty sure this building wouldn’t even show up on a map. “Where are you going to go?” 

“No fucking idea,” Michael says. “My place isn’t safe and neither is Isobel’s so maybe we’ll just find a motel for the night or something until—“

“No, don’t do that,” Alex interrupts. “He’ll probably be expecting that and with Max’s face he’ll have access to police resources. If he’s motivated enough, he’ll track you down by the end of the night.”

Michael lets out a loud sigh before he says, mostly to himself, “Fuck Max for being a fucking cop,” frustration heavy in his tone. “You got any other ideas then?”

Alex considers that for a moment before he remembers the cabin Jim left him. It’s not a top secret military bunker, but it’s remote and about as secure as they can hope for right now.

“I do, actually,” Alex says at last. “Where are you right now?”

“The hospital,” Michael answers. “Maria’s fine, Liz and I just checked on her.”

“Okay good,” he says. “He probably won’t attack you if you’re in a public place so just stay there and wait for my call, okay? There’s something I need to take care of and then I’m all yours.”

Alex cringes at his own wording, but Michael doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay,” he says. “Just—hurry?” 

“I will,” Alex promises. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” Michael replies, and then the line goes dead.

Alex turns back to his phone screen and pulls up his contacts. He hesitates for a minute, asking himself if what he’s about to do is really the right choice.

But then he thinks of Michael and how much easier it would be to protect him with access to all of the resources and intel Deep Sky has to offer. If Jones is even half the threat he seems, Alex has a feeling he’s going to need all the help he can get.

Alex makes the call. It rings twice before he gets an answer.

“Have you made up your mind then?” Ramos asks, foregoing a greeting entirely.

“I’m in,” Alex says, projecting confidence he doesn’t quite feel. “Now do you think I can get a ride back to my car? I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Thirty minutes later, Alex leaves Kyle in Ramos’ care and hits the road. He’s careful not to speed too much—the last thing he needs is to get pulled over right now—but he’s definitely pushing it.

Alex had called Michael back while he waited impatiently for Ramos and gave him instructions on how to get to the cabin—an indirect route with minimal traffic cameras along the way. Looking at the clock on his dashboard, Alex guesses Michael will probably have already let himself in by now.

Sure enough, Michael’s pick-up truck and Isobel’s SUV are already parked outside by the time Alex pulls into the dirt path he calls a driveway. When he opens the front door, he sees a small crowd of people in his living room, all wearing various expressions of exhaustion and defeat.

Rosa has her boots propped up on the coffee table next to Michael’s hat where she sits in the armchair in the corner, her eyes trained on Liz who looks to be wearing a hole in the carpet with all of the pacing she’s doing. Michael is sitting with Isobel on the couch, her head resting heavily on his shoulder and her arms drawn tight across her chest. 

They all look up at him as he steps over the threshold, but Michael’s the first to react, his back straightening against the couch the moment he lays eyes on him.

“Alex,” he says, little louder than a whisper. Alex feels the sudden desire to pull him into his arms. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Alex says, closing the door behind him. “It’s a long story, but I found Kyle.”

“You found Kyle?” Liz asks, her eyes wide as she takes a step closer to him. “Where is he?”

“With his uncle,” he answers.

“His what?” Rosa asks at the same time Liz says, “Kyle doesn’t have an uncle.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Alex says. 

This time of night, Alex figures they could all use a pick-me-up, so he heads to the kitchen and gestures for them to follow. 

While he gets the ancient coffee pot going, he can hear the sound of chairs scraping against the floor behind him as they all find a seat at the table in the middle of the room. There’s an empty seat next to Michael when he goes to sit, so he takes it, figuring it’ll be easier to stay focused on the task at hand if he doesn’t have to look directly at him.

As he sits down, he catches Michael’s eyes shifting toward the dusty bottle of whiskey on top of the fridge, but he surprises him when he doesn’t ask for it. Alex isn’t sure if that’s for Rosa’s benefit or his own, but either way he can’t help but feel a little proud of him.

They talk for what must be hours, starting with Kyle and Alex’s involvement with Deep Sky and ending with the shit show that went down with Jones tonight. It’s a lot to process, for all of them, but they do manage to come up with a plan for tomorrow. 

Michael is understandably suspicious of Deep Sky, but after Alex relays what he learned about the Lockhart Machine’s origins in Caulfield, he wants to get his hands on it. The idea of working so close to him makes Alex nervous for more reasons than one, but Michael’s right—he needs his help if he’s going to make any meaningful progress before the other shoe drops with Jones and pretending otherwise is going to get someone killed.

Liz, for her part, is eager to dive into the science to see if there’s anything she can do to help Kyle, so Alex will take her to the barn in the morning before he and Michael tackle the Lockhart Machine. 

With no leads on where Jones took Max’s body, Isobel and Rosa decide to check on Maria and see if there’s any progress they can make on freeing her from the hold Jones has on her mind. 

It’s as solid a plan as they’re capable of making with what they’ve got, so the moment Michael yawns behind the grimy bandana on his hand Alex is ready to call it a night.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for tonight,” Alex says. He pushes back from the table and starts collecting coffee mugs to put in the sink as he continues, “There’s a guest bedroom down the hall and an extra bed in the secret bunker under the coffee table in the living room for people to crash in.”

“The what under the what?” Liz asks, bewildered.

“Alex Manes, do you have a sex dungeon in your basement?” Isobel asks, sounding intrigued and a little impressed before she grimaces suddenly and turns to Michael. “Ew, wait, did you know about this?”

Alex resolutely does not look at Michael as he sighs, “It’s not a sex dungeon.” 

He considers telling them about the room’s true intended purpose, but decides against it—there’s been enough revelations about distant fathers for one evening. 

“It’s just an extra bedroom,” he continues, before turning to Liz and Rosa. “The bed down there is big enough for two people to fit in if you guys don’t mind sharing. The bed in the guest room’s just a twin, so it’d be a tighter squeeze.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rosa shrugs, eyes on Liz as she continues, “As long as you don’t steal the covers.”

“Oh come on, that was one time when I was seven,” Liz protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Isobel interrupts their sibling banter to say, “Dibs on the guest room then. Sorry, Michael, you’re on the couch tonight.”

Michael shrugs like he expected that, but Alex stops him with a hand on his arm as he goes to walk toward the living room.

“No, take my bed,” he says. Michael’s eyes drop down to where Alex’s hand has caught his forearm and Alex lets him go. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“What?” Michael asks, cocking his head so his curls fall into his eyes. “No, I’ll take the couch. Sleep in your own bed.”

“Michael, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch after the day you’ve had,” Alex argues. “You need a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

“And you don’t?” Michael counters. “Besides, if you sleep on that lumpy-ass couch you’re definitely going to fuck up your leg and I think we can both agree that that would be kind of a problem if Jones catches up to us.”

Alex sighs and tries to stare him down, willing him to let him do this for him, but Michael just keeps defiantly meeting his gaze.

“Oh my god, would you two shut up and just share the bed if the couch sucks that much?” Isobel asks and they both turn to look at her in shock. “It’s not like it would be the first time,” she adds under her breath.

Alex shares another look with Michael and waits a moment for him to react, to give any sign he wouldn’t be okay with that. 

All he does is shrug and say, “I’m game if you are.”

If he’s honest, Alex has no fucking idea how he’s supposed to get any sleep lying next to Michael all night—his stomach is already in knots just thinking about it—but he nods his head anyway.

“Alright,” Alex agrees. “It’s just down the hall that way, I’ll show you. Does anyone need anything to sleep in? I’ve got some spare pajamas.”

There’s a chorus of yes’s all around, so Alex heads down the hall toward his bedroom to grab some clothes with Michael not far behind him. 

“Looks, uh—nice in here,” Michael comments awkwardly as they step inside the bedroom, and Alex can’t help but laugh.

“You don’t have to lie,” he says as he starts digging through the dresser for some old t-shirts and sweatpants, glad for once that he never got around to cutting down the right pant leg on them. “Besides the new sheets, this is all Jim Valenti’s old stuff.” 

“The clothes too?” Michael grimaces.

“Oh, no, these are mine,” he says as he hands Michael a bundle of clothes. “Bathroom’s through that door there if you want to shower. There should be an extra toothbrush and towels under the sink.”

Michael nods, and then scoffs when he sees the Air Force logo on the t-shirt Alex hands him. Alex rolls his eyes at him as he heads back out into the living room to distribute clothes to the rest of his guests. 

It takes some time getting everyone settled—the sheets on the other beds need to be changed and Liz and Rosa have some questions about the giant hole in the wall in the basement—but soon enough, Alex heads back to the master bedroom. When he gets there, he sees Michael standing by the far side of the bed, water weighing down his curls and a pair of Alex’s sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He isn’t wearing a shirt either, the Air Force tee Alex gave him sitting on the comforter on Alex’s side of the bed.

Alex isn’t sure if this is an act of protest against the United States Armed Forces or if Michael is simply trying to drive him insane, but either way, Alex scoops up the t-shirt on his way to the ensuite bathroom along with the emergency crutches he keeps here and another pair of sweats for himself. 

He goes through his nightly routine without issue, grateful that he’d gotten around to buying a shower chair for the cabin so he can actually wash the last few days off his skin. 

He’s expecting Michael to be asleep when he gets back, but instead he finds him sitting crosslegged in bed with the lights still on, his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. Alex’s heart aches at the sight.

“Hey,” he says softly as he makes his way over to the bed. 

Michael looks up at him, an inscrutable look on his face, and waits for him to speak. 

“I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay because there’s nothing about today that has been okay,” Alex tells him, “but I’m here if you want to talk.”

A small smile tugs at Michael’s lips. “Thanks,” he says.  

When he doesn’t say anything else, Alex gets into bed with him, resting his crutches in the narrow space between the bed and the nightstand. Michael gets the lights with his powers, plunging the room into darkness, and Alex lies down on his back while his eyes adjust, too aware of Michael shifting in bed beside him to really let himself relax enough to sleep. 

It’s a few moments later when Michael lets out a huff that sounds a little like a laugh.

“What?” Alex asks, turning to look at him. He can just see the curve of Michael’s nose in the moonlight bleeding through the curtains.

“Nothing, I just—“ Michael starts before he sighs again, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It’s a little ridiculous that this time last year we were dealing with your homicidal father and now we’re dealing with mine. The more things change the more they stay the same, I guess.”

Michael says it like it’s funny, but Alex feels a twinge in his chest at the thought of Michael going through what he went through last year. Feeling unsafe around your parent is a special kind of pain, one Alex knows intimately, and it’s the last thing he would have ever wanted for Michael. He’s been through enough.

 On impulse, Alex reaches across the bed for Michael’s hand. It takes some searching, but eventually he finds it resting on top of the comforter between them. He half expects Michael to pull away from him, but he threads their fingers together instead. Michael’s palm is warm against his own, his grip secure, and Alex feels his eyes begin to burn as something inside his chest settles at the touch. 

He swallows down the emotion in his throat as he tells him, “We’re gonna figure this out.” 

“You don’t know that,” Michael says, scarcely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah, I do,” Alex insists. “Jones may have crazy alien powers we can’t comprehend, but we have the Lockhart Machine. If it was your mother who built it, it could hold the key to taking him down.”

At the mention of his mother, Michael goes quiet again, and Alex watches his chest rise and fall with the deep breath he takes. 

“You really think she built it?” Michael asks at last, hesitation in his tone. 

Alex gets it—this machine, if it works like the radios the Valentis had, could have alien glass with his mother’s voice inside. It makes sense that Michael doesn’t want to get his hopes up and invite the crushing disappointment he’ll feel if it doesn’t.

Alex squeezes his hand reassuringly as he answers, “I think if there’s anyone who can find out for sure, it’s you.”

Michael is silent for another long moment, so long that Alex thinks he’s done with the conversation, before he finally asks, “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“What do you mean?” Alex asks, taken aback by the question.

Michael shifts onto his side to look at him directly. “Yesterday you didn’t want me anywhere near what you were doing and now you’re holding my hand and telling me it’s all gonna be okay if we work together,” Michael says, lifting their joined hands off the bed for emphasis. “What’s changed?”

Alex’s throat clicks as he swallows, something like shame weighing down the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t meant to make Michael feel like he didn’t want him around or that he wasn’t useful.

“I’m sorry,” Alex apologizes. “I was just scared.”

“Of what?” Michael presses.

“Of what Deep Sky would do if they found out about you,” he answers. “I knew if you kept investigating the bats, you would find Deep Sky sooner or later and I was terrified that for all their talk about changing narratives and building bridges between humans and aliens that they wouldn’t be any different than my father if they actually met one.” 

“Well, you could have told me that,” Michael says after a moment, his voice softer than the accusatory tone Alex is anticipating. “I would have understood.”

“But would you have let it go if you knew you were onto something?” Alex asks. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Michael admits, something like a smile playing at his lips. 

Alex sighs heavily, expecting the answer but no less happy at being proven right. 

“But being cagey and lying to me about what you knew didn’t make me want to let it go either,” Michael continues. 

“I know,” Alex says. “I just thought—If I didn’t try to protect you and just let you walk into something like that and you got hurt, I… I would never forgive myself.” 

Alex feels Michael’s thumb caress the back of his hand and closes his eyes at the sensation, letting it wash over him and remind him that Michael is here, that he’s safe—that he hasn’t failed him yet.

“Well, it was for nothing anyway,” Alex sighs as his eyes drift open once more. “Turns out you’re the whole reason they wanted to hire me in the first place, so—“

“Wait, what?” Michael asks, raising his head off his pillow to look at him better, and Alex curses his own sleep deprivation for letting him admit that so easily. “I thought they scouted you because of your dad.”

He swallows audibly before he answers, “That’s part of it too.” 

“But not all of it,” Michael says, not a question but a confirmation. “What, did they think they could get an alien on their side if they played the long game with you?” 

“Probably, yeah,” Alex says, hoping that’ll satisfy him.

Michael must sense that Alex is holding something back, though, because he releases his hand and sits up on the bed next to him. “Alex, what aren’t you saying?” 

Alex sighs and pushes himself up against the headboard so he and Michael are on the same level. He pulls his left leg in toward his chest protectively while Michael looks at him, his eyes intense and expectant.

Alex finds the words eventually. “Ramos wanted me to join Deep Sky because he thinks I view life differently than other people.”

“Because you already know aliens exist?” Michael guesses, his head quirked to the side.

God, is he really gonna make me say it? Alex thinks, his stomach dropping at the thought.

But then he takes in Michael’s earnest confusion, how far away the fact that Alex still loves him must be from his mind that he still doesn’t get it, and realizes they can’t keep doing this to each other—talking in riddles and euphemisms because it’s easier than being honest. That’s not who Alex wants to be anymore, and it’s certainly not what Michael deserves.

“Alex?” Michael prompts him, his voice dipping with concern, and Alex thinks, Fuck it. 

He’s already made a few major confessions tonight—what’s one more?

“Because I’m in love with one,” Alex admits at last, his heart thundering behind his ribs as he braces for Michael’s reply.

There’s a beat where Michael does nothing but stare at him blankly, the words taking a moment to register in his ears, before he asks, eyes almost comically wide, “You’re in love with me?” 

Alex laughs humorlessly, his eyes beginning to burn again as he answers, “Of course I am.”

“But I thought—you and Nazi guy—?“ Michael starts.

“Are over,” Alex finishes for him. “Forrest was nice and fun to hang out with, but he’s not you. He’ll never be you.”

A second and a year pass in the excruciating moment Michael takes to process that statement. It makes him feel raw and impossibly exposed, like Michael is holding his beating heart in his hands and Alex is begging him not to break it, but the next thing Alex knows Michael is pushing into his space and capturing his lips in a harsh and desperate kiss. 

Alex’s heart nearly bursts with relief, his leg dropping back down to the mattress. He reaches up to cup both of Michael’s cheeks to keep him close, his days-old stubble a pleasant scratch against his palms. 

Michael breathes a contented sigh against his mouth as he tilts his head for a better angle and tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out against Alex’s bottom lip. Alex opens for him without a moment’s hesitation and as soon as Michael licks into his mouth, Michael’s tongue sliding across his own, Alex feels like he’s been set on fire, the desire he’s been suppressing for over a year now flaring hot and inexorable inside of him. 

Alex wants with an intensity that almost scares him, his cock stirring against his thigh already and Michael’s barely even touched him. The feeling amplifies when Michael throws his leg over Alex’s hips and settles heavily over his lap, the solid weight and warmth of him pulling a moan from Alex’s throat.

Michael swallows the sound eagerly as he snakes his arms behind his neck, his hips shifting restlessly over Alex’s lap as he kisses him. Alex drops his hands from Michael’s face to wrap around his waist instead, pulling him closer until they’re nearly chest to chest. 

One of them has to break the kiss eventually, and as Alex gasps for air with his head tipped back against the headboard, he can see Michael looking down at him with adoration in his eyes. He takes Alex’s face in his hands and laughs, a soft, wet sound, before he kisses him soundly once more. 

“I love you so much,” he murmurs against his lips, and Alex’s grip tightens as he feels those words brush against his skin and settle in his heart.

Alex leans that little bit forward to kiss him again, slow and languid this time as the heat continues to simmer between them. Michael peels Alex’s shirt over his head and begins to rock gently against him, his ass rubbing back and forth over Alex’s growing erection with every movement of his hips. 

He can tell that Michael’s getting hard too, can feel the heat of his cock through his borrowed sweatpants. Alex removes his hand from Michael’s waist and slides it lower until he feels Michael’s happy trail peeking out above his waistband. 

He strokes his thumb over the hair there, teasing the skin at the edge of the fabric without ever dipping beneath it. Michael squirms against him with a soft, plaintive whimper when he does that, so Alex gives him what he wants, lets his hand slip lower so he can rub his palm over the hard line of Michael’s cock, relishing the way Michael moans softly into his mouth as his hips twitching closer on instinct. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” Alex pulls away to ask, his thumb rubbing a slow circle around the head of Michael’s dick through the soft fabric. 

“Are you saying you want to stop?” Michael asks him, tipping forward until their foreheads meet.

“No,” he answers.

“Then yeah,” Michael breathes, reaching down between them to cover Alex’s hand with his own. “I think we’re doing this.”

“In that case,” Alex says, “I want you in my mouth.”

“God, yeah,” Michael whispers, his cock jumping beneath Alex’s hand at the thought.

Alex gives him a hard kiss before he pulls back to say, “On your back.”

Michael climbs off of Alex’s lap without another word. He rolls over onto his back next to him, his thighs falling open to give Alex room to work with. 

Alex slips between them easily and moves in to kiss him again, once on the lips before he begins pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down his chin. He lingers at his neck, sucking a bruise into the spot underneath his jaw that he knows drives Michael fucking crazy. 

Michael rewards him with a choked-off moan, his legs spreading wider around his hips. Alex wishes he had the time—and supplies—to ruin him properly, work him open with his tongue and fingers until he’s a keening, whimpering mess before he fucks him like he deserves. For now, though, his mouth will have to do.

Alex can feel Michael’s pulse jackrabbit against his lips as he continues down the column of his throat, Michael’s hands burying themselves in his hair. He dips his tongue into the hollow of his collarbone before he slips further down his chest, cupping Michael’s pecs in his hands and squeezing just enough to get a reaction from him before his mouth latches on to one of his nipples.

He scrapes his teeth against the bud before soothing the hurt with his tongue and Michael’s breath catches in his throat again. He’s always been so sensitive, so responsive to Alex’s touch, and Alex can’t get enough of it.

When he’s teased both of his nipples to hard buds, Alex starts to move lower still, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down the length of his belly until he stops right above the waistband of his pajamas.

“Alex,” Michael moans as Alex sucks another bruise into his skin, his fingers tightening their grip on his hair. “Please.”

Alex gives one final kiss to the sharp angle of Michael’s hip bone before he sits up to pull his pants off. He drops them off the side of the bed carelessly before he settles between Michael’s legs once more, running his palms along the soft skin of his inner thighs and enjoying the way the muscle jumps beneath his fingertips.

Michael’s cock leaks against his belly, flushed and wet at the tip. Alex wastes no more time getting his mouth on him, lapping at the pool of precome shining against his skin before he takes the slick, swollen head into his mouth. He revels in the feel of it forcing his mouth wide open and moans softly at the bitter taste he catches on his tongue. 

Alex looks up at Michael through his lashes as he starts to suck him, sinking down onto his cock a little lower with every pass of his lips. Michael’s got his bottom lip caught painfully between his teeth, his eyes trained hungrily on the way his cock is slipping in and out of Alex’s mouth. 

The soft, needy whimpers Michael makes as Alex swallows around him are music to his ears, stoking the fire inside of him until the pressure in his own cock becomes unbearable. Alex grinds his hips down against the mattress for relief, but it only makes him more desperate to come. He slides one of his hands straight into his own pants and groans around Michael’s cock as he starts to fuck his fist.

It’s not much longer that Michael’s hips start to twitch against the mattress and his fingers tighten their grip on Alex’s hair. He barely gets out a warning, “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” before he’s pulsing hot and wet across Alex’s tongue. Alex swallows it greedily, moaning softly as he works Michael through the rest of his orgasm and keeps chasing his own with eager, shallow thrusts. 

When Michael’s had enough, Alex pulls off of his cock and buries his face against his hip as he comes quietly over his own fist, making a mess of the inside of his underwear. He’ll probably be embarrassed about that later, but for now he’s content to come down to the feeling of Michael gently petting his hair.

“Get up here,” Michael says when he’s recovered the ability to speak, tugging lightly on the ends of Alex’s hair to get his attention. 

Alex groans as he lifts his head off Michael’s hip and maneuvers himself until he’s lying next to him again, his stump crossed over Michael’s thigh. 

“Did you—?” Michael cuts off, eyes caught on the sticky mess on Alex’s hand now that he’s pulled it free from his pants.

“Yeah,” Alex admits, a little sheepishly. 

Michael stares at his hand for a long second before he grabs his wrist and pulls his hand closer to his face. He looks Alex in the eye as he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, grunting softly as he licks them clean.

“Fuck,” Alex whispers, his cock twitching in vain against his thigh at the sight and feel of Michael’s tongue sliding between his fingers.

“You missed sucking my cock that bad, huh?” Michael asks when he lets them fall from his mouth, voice low and rough as gravel as he pushes into Alex’s space, so close he can smell himself on Michael’s breath. 

Alex lets out a shuddering breath. “Yes,” he answers.

Michael leans in to kiss him, quick and dirty and possessive, before he pulls back and says, “Guess I’m just gonna have to wait until the morning to return the favor then.”

“I guess so,” Alex says, hooking his clean hand around the back of Michael’s neck to bring him in for another one.

Michael kisses him back eagerly for a long moment before he pulls away. “Be right back,” he says, and climbs out of bed.

While he’s in the bathroom, Alex shimmies his dirty sweatpants and underwear off his legs and onto the floor. It’s only another minute before Michael’s back, a damp washcloth gripped between his fingers. 

It’s warm against Alex’s skin as Michael uses it to clean him up, and when they’re done they settle down for bed, Alex’s head resting on Michael’s chest and his arm thrown across his waist.

And as Alex finally closes his eyes for the night, his thoughts naturally drift to all the problems they’ll be facing tomorrow morning:

Saving Kyle. 

Freeing Maria. 

Stopping Jones. 

Unlocking the secrets of a mysterious 50 year old alien device and hopefully not going insane while trying.

But as the steady sound of Michael’s heartbeat lulls him to sleep, the loudest thought in his head is that Michael loves him. 

Whatever happens come morning, they’ll deal with it together.

[msmarvelwrites]

Season Of The Witch - Part 3

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much. 

Pairing: Bucky x reader 

Warnings: Swearing, Anxious reader, implied smut but still 18+ pleasee! 

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Hey you guys! Hope everyone is having a good week so far! It’s been a long couple few days here, but I’m feeling productive today so here we are. Happy reading! Please like and reblog if youve read, your support means so much to me! 

Thank you forever to @cutie1365​ for all her help and advice on this fic. She’s killing it and you should definitely go check out her work! 

You sat, defeated and mentally drained in the wreckage that was your bedroom floor. After you ripped almost everything out of your closet it was decided, you simply could not go tonight. All you wanted to do was sink into the floor and let the miss-matched fabric swallow you whole without surrender. It could be the idea of spending the night surrounded by screaming thoughts… It could also be the frigid rejection you had received earlier from Bucky, but either way your fate was sealed. It was better if you just bailed. Peter would be disappointed he wouldn't have someone to escape the ‘adult-ier adults’ with him, but he would understand. Wanda, however, would not be so forgiving. 

The knock on your bedroom door sufitialtly pulled you from your own daydreams. 

“Miss Y/L/N, Miss Maximoff is here to see you. Shall I let her in?” The A.I. spoke. You rolled your eyes, a groan slipping from your lips as you hawled yourself off the floor and onto the bed. “Yes, thank you, Friday.” You mumbled. 

Seconds later, Wanda was skipping into your room with a shy grin smoothed over her pink lips. You knew that look all too well, and to this day, it worried you. 

“Hello there friend.” She chimed, swinging the fabric bag she carried onto the bed and taking a seat beside you. “I can see I’ve interrupted your existential crisis.” She chuckled, gesturing to the mess you had made. 

“I’m not going, Wan.” You stated, watching her carefully as she rolled her eyes.

“Like hell you're not going. What’s Bucky going to do without you to shadow?” He chided, eyeing you carefully. She was watching for a reaction, anything to confirm her suspicions. She had probed you for information this time last week. You couldn't hide from her, she knew you too well. Not only in her gifts, but also in spirit. She was one of the first people you really opened up to, and she often used that against you. Especially when trying to discover why you andBucky seemed to be in a much better mood lately. ‘Antidepressants’ was your final answer. 

“I actually don't care what Bucky does. Maybe he’ll get lucky with Steve tonight.” You joked. God you hoped you were joking. 

“Shut up, Y/n. I know somethings going on with you two.” 

“Who two?” Peter inclined striding into your room and flopping onto the bed, his head sitting between you and Wanda as he looked up at her. 

“Y/n and Bucky are doing it.” She indulged him as his face fell. He crawled around so he could look at you dead on, his face contorting into that of disgust. 

“You and- and… Mr. Barnes? No…” He grimaced, shaking his head like he had tasted something sour. 

“No! There is nothing going on between Bucky and I.” you insisted, glaring at Wanda. 

“Don’t listen to her, Peter. She’s a filthy liar. And she’s totally banging Barnes.” Wanda giggled as you shoved her into the pillows. 

“Banging? Oh god no- I’m picturing it… Make it stop!” Peter gagged sarcastically, toppling over onto Wanda as they both fell into a fit of laughter. 

“I don't know why I tolerate you two.” You chuckled, watching your friends writhe on the bed. In a moment of distraction, Peter grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you down on top of him. 

“You know you need us. What would you do, huh? hangout with Steve the ninety year old virgin? And I know you avoid Natasha like the plague because everytime you see her she drags you to the gym… No, no you need us.” Peter smiled, tucking one of his arms under his neck as he shifted onto his back. You laid there on the bed between him and Wanda as you all contemplated that. 

“If I tell you, you have to promise it stays between us. I’m looking at you, Parker. Stark canNOT know about it.” You signed, glaring at him until he nodded. “So… Maybe it's possible Bucky and I might be… I don’t know what you’d even call it… I guess we're trying to…” 

“Is bump nasty’s still a term?” Wanda asked, false innocence in her eyes as she looked at you. Both you and Peter threw your heads back laughing and he elbowed her. 

“That’s awful.” Peter giggled, pointing his finger in his mouth and gagging. 

You spent the next hour explaining what was really going on between you and Bucky. How you were definitely not ‘bumping nasties’ and that it was just pure and new and so, so incredibly hot. 

“You have to go tonight.” Wanda sighed, holding up a little black dress infront of the floor length mirror.

“And do what?” You huffed, falling back on the bed and worrying on your bottom lip. “Bucky basically ran out of the room the moment I brought up the idea of-”

“Bumping Nasties?” Peter piped up, to which Wanda rocketed a pillow at his face, the crimson current sizzling around it. 

“Yeah, that.” You chuckled, letting your face drop in your hands. This was just embarrassing. You’d never been so hung up on a guy before. But then again, Bucky wasn't just some guy. 

“If only you could know what he was thinking…” Wanda smirked, turning on her heel and silently asking Peters approval of the dress. He shrugged in response, gaining a frustrated eye roll from the redhead. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t mean to listen in… It’s an invasion of privacy.” 

“That's never stopped you before.” Peter argued, a goofy smile plastered on his lips. 

“Listen, read his mind- don't read his mind. It doesn't matter. The guy is obviously crazy about you. He’s always so dark and gloomy but lately the guy actually smiles. I heard him laugh the other day,” Wanda smirked, sitting beside you on the bed. “At one of Sam’s jokes.” She finished. 

“Yeah, Y/n. You gotta go. Do it for us. Also because you're the only one who will sneak me booze under the table.” Peter chuckled, his bottom lip wobbling as he pleaded with you. 

“Fine. But only because drunk Peter is the better Peter.” 

Wanda nodded her head in agreeance, grabbing the fabric bag off the bed and throwing it in your lap. “Perfect. Wear this, I picked it out specially for you…”

The thumping sound of music vibrated through the hallway as you tangled yourself in the orange and black tassels hanging from the door. You always liked Halloween as a rule, but Tony’s parties were starting to put a damper on your fun. 

You had thought that Bucky would have met you at your room to escort you to the event. He knew how badly you dreaded going, but he never showed. Maybe you had read him all wrong, you thought. Maybe this was all in your head, piecing together his thoughts into something you wanted to hear rather than the truth. Maybe the dress that Wanda had picked out for you was starting to cut off the circulation to your brain because it was getting harder and harder to think straight… Or was that just the music drowning out your mindless babble. 

“Good evening, beautiful.” Peter hummed from beside you. His presence startled you as you hadn't heard him coming. He held out his arm offering it for you to hold. “Are you going in?” 

The question hung in the air for a moment before you finally nodded your head, swallowing hard and taking his arm. It was moments like this that you were thankful for Peter. Truthfully you knew if he wasn't standing right there you might have ran for your life, bunkering down in your room in a blanket fort. 

“Such a gentleman.” You cooed, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you into the party. 

“Nah, just a friendly neighborhood spider man. It’s good for my street cred, nothing more.” You brushed you off, pulling you into the buzzing room. 

Voices filled your head, swirling around you as you tried to concentrate on just one. There had to be at least a hundred people here tonight. They crashed over you, swarming in your mind like bees in a hive. It had been forever since you had been in a crowd like this and the anxiety was starting to coarse through your veins. 

“Hey. You're alright.” Peter assured you, pulling you across the room and over to the bar where Sam and Nat sat, laughing at something Tony had said. 

“Well if it isn't the wicked witch of NewYork.” Sam called, pulling you into his chest. “Your shadow is around her somewhere. Probably off staring longingly at Steve.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your bottom lip as you scanned the room. Lo and behold, Bucky stood in the corner of the room with Steve, his eyebrows fused into a knot as his friend spoke something you couldn't make out over the booming music. 

“He’s looking more pissy than usual.” Nat snorted, watching you as you gawked at the man. You didn't notice the small smirk that had appeared on her lips as she pieced together your frustration. 

“Nah, that's just his resting face.” Tony quipped, pouring a tall glass of liquor and sliding it across the bar to you. You picked it up, lifting it to your lips and downing it seconds later as you clanked it back on the counter. 

“Keep em’ coming. You guys are loud tonight.” You mumbled, your brain already beginning buzz as you forced your friends on ‘mute’. It was like a constant sit-up, you liked to describe. Eventually your body would cave and their thoughts would rush in, but the alcohol helped numb the ache and kept them at bay. 

With another double in hand, you decided the liquid courage was exactly what you needed to confront the ‘gentleman’ he so eloquently had put. 

As you closed in you noticed Steve elbowing Bucky, altering him of your presence. At the sight of you, his face fell, his eyes darting to the floor. 

“Evening geriatrics.” You chuckled, downing your drink as mustering every fiber in your body to make eye contact with the ethereal man before you. To your dismay, he was staring back, his eyes a violent thunderstorm you were on the verge of losing yourself in. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat and attempting to calm your nerves as you scanned him over. 

“Bucky. You look… Nice.” You choked out. His navy blue dress shirt was tucked neatly into his dark washed jeans, his hair perfectly placed in a way you knew had taken him forever before he was content to leave his room. The idea made you smile, but only for a moment as the sinking feeling crept back into the pit of your stomach. 

“I’ll leave you two, to… Talk.” Steve waved his goodbyes, pulling you into a side hug and whispering in a hushed tone, “Take it easy on him.” 

With that, Steve was gone, leaving you alone and vulnerable. 

“You look incredible.” Bucky hummed, his eyes falling down your form, but his face remained unreadable. 

Don’t just stand there, do something… Apologize… Kiss her… God, just stop staring and- 

“I should apologize- for earlier. I shouldn't have run out on you like that. It won't happen again.” Bucky mumbled, his hands, vibranium and flesh stuffed in his jean pockets. You were caught off guard to say the least. You were ready, guns drawn to defend yourself, but there stood the infamous Winter Soldier, cowering before you like a lost puppy. Your eyes softened as a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips. 

“Why did you leave?” You finally spoke, “I didn't mean to push you… Bucky, rushing is the last thing I wanted to do. If you want to-”

“No!” He blurted. 

“No?” 

“You're not rushing me. Damn, doll. I’m trying my best here, but you're walking around in that dress, with those lips and all I want to do is…” He trailed off, his eyes falling on your best as he worried on his bottom lip. 

“So its my fault?” You gawked. 

“No!” He almost shouted, lowering his voice when he caught a few unwarranted eyes at his tone. “It’s my fault. Y/n, I’m trying so hard to be respectful. I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m completely out of my depth here. This used to be so easy and now… The rules have changed and I can’t keep up and all I know if I want to throw you over my shoulder right now and haul you back to my room and make you mine. I just… It’s just that I’ve never…” 

You gaped at him, caught off guard by his confession as you waited for his next words, but his thoughts broke through the air before he could speak. 

Never used my arm as anything but a means to an end… You’re going to kill her with it… How can she see you as anything but a monster…? Doesn't she know how easy it would be to lose control…? It would take minutes… Seconds… 

“Bucky…” You hummed, your hand resting on his metallic arm as you pulled him from his self destructive thoughts. His eyes pleaded with you, boring into your soul. “Dance with me.” 

He stared at you, opening and shutting his mouth, trying to speak. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyways, allowing you to pull him into the crowd of people swaying back and forth to the lulling music. 

You took the lead, lifting his metal hand and placing it on your hip. You intertwined your fingers with his flesh hand, stumbling forward as he pulled you in, his strength startling you a little. 

Oh, god…. Be gentle… Don’t break her, you ass. 

You chuckled, resting your head against his chest as you relaxed into his form. His heart beat drawing out the incoherent thoughts around you. You swayed back and forth like that, until Bucky’s breathing returned to normal again. Your hand trailed down from his shoulder to his cool metal fingers. They tightened around your waist at your touch as he stiffened, holding in a breath. 

“I’m not afraid of you…” You hummed against his chest. “That’s what you said to me… ‘I’m not afraid of you.’” You recanted the conversation you had had those weeks ago outside your room. 

“I’m pretty afraid right now.” He admitted, resting his chin on top of your head as he breathed you in. 

“You won’t hurt me, Bucky.” You assured, running your fingers up and down his arm, listing to it whirl as he moved. “See? We’re dancing. You're holding me, and I’m not broken. I’m right here.” 

Gently, you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, meeting his eyes. He swallowed hard, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared back at you. You would have given anything to kiss him right there, to melt into him and ease his mind like only he did for you. 

“I don't remember how to dance.” He signed, pain dripping from his words. 

“I can teach you.” You smiled into him, the smell of his cologne enveloping your senses. 

“And can you teach me what you like?” He asked, his voice a low gruff in your ear. “Where you crave to be touched, and kissed and moved.” 

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as his lips trailed down the shell of your ear. His words sent a heat straight to your core as his breath fanned across your cheek causing a blush to creep up your chest. 

“You have to sneak me out of this party first.” You chuckled, trying (and failing) to steady your rapid heart. 

“Baby, you're hanging with a strained assassin now. Let me teach you a thing or two...” He bragged, his pink lips pulling at the corner of his mouth into a smirk. 

________________________________________________________________

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[petrichoravellichor]

Begin and End There (Part 2)

For Day 6 of the Supernatural Deserved Better Creative Challenge (prompt: Destiel).

Note: This is Chapter 2 of 2; you can find the post with Chapter 1 here, or you can read the entire work on Ao3.

Rating: T

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, minor Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, minor Castiel & Sam Winchester, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Warnings: Brief, non-graphic mentions of canon violence; reference to Dean’s suicidal ideation/decision to temporarily kill himself in 13x05; references to repeated major character death that didn’t stick - to be clear, this fic has a happy ending and is basically everything Dean needed to say and Cas needed to hear.

Summary: After the Empty takes him, Castiel wakes up in the last place he expected (Chapter 1), with a second chance at happiness when he reunites with Dean and the latter finally gets to speak his truth (Chapter 2).

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“Love him, and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” —James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

********************

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was imploring, gentle, just like it had been the first two times he’d tried. “Come on, sit down.”

Dean ignored him and continued pacing, the cramped stillness of the motel room a vicious sounding board for his thoughts. Among them all, he clung to one thought in particular, the only one keeping him sane: Jack’s gonna get him back. He said he would. He has to...

He could feel Sam’s worried gaze on him from where his brother sat in a chair by the door. It had been Sam who had insisted they grab the motel room after Jack had gone, having intuited, rightly, that Dean was a mess even if he was trying to hide it and that he needed somewhere private where he didn’t have to. The only problem was that, for Dean, privacy in the sense of space to break down meant an audience of zero, not one, and Dean didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself together.

“Damn it, Sam,” he growled a minute later, “don’t you and Eileen have stuff to talk about? You don’t gotta hang around like a damn babysitter.”

If Sam was annoyed by Dean’s tone, he didn’t show it; instead, he just leaned forward, folding his hands in his lap. “We do, but it can wait,” he said calmly. "Besides, you heard her: someone had to go back to the silo and make sure all the Apocalypse-world hunters made it back okay. She said she’d text me when she got there.”

Dean huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, well...Still. You could’ve gone with her, is all I’m sayin’.”

“No. Not until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dean, enough.” Sam was frowning now, and there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “You think I don’t know what Cas means to you?” He scoffed and shook his head. “Because if so, I’m sorry, but you’re not as hard to read as you think you are, not for me.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, stunned, and as he wilted under Sam’s knowing gaze, the full force of his exhaustion hit him all at once and damn near brought him to his knees. “I can’t lose him,” he heard himself admit in a hoarse whisper. He swallowed and shook his head. “Not again.”

Sam’s expression softened. “I know. We’ll get him back; if Jack can’t save him, we’ll find another way. We always do.”

Dean sighed, then nodded. Sam was right; of course he was. They’d get Cas back even if Dean had to storm into the Empty and grab him himself, grip Cas’s formerly feathered ass and raise him from perdition for a change. Cas, you idiot, what the hell’s the matter with you? he imagined himself demanding. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?

Suddenly, there was a shuffling sound outside, and before Sam could even begin to stand, Dean had bolted across the room and yanked open the door, determined to hear whatever news Jack was bringing them so that he could actually do something instead of just waiting, only...only it wasn’t Jack standing on the other side of the threshold.

Cas gazed back at him as though in a daze, hand raised in an aborted knock; after a beat, he lowered it and cleared his throat. “I—Hello, Dean.” He nodded past Dean toward the interior of the room. “May I come in?”

Dean nodded wordlessly, feet suddenly like lead as he stepped aside so Cas could brush past him. He closed the door and sank down on the edge of the nearest bed as Sam let out an exclamation of relief and stood to pull Cas into a hug.

“It’s good to have you back, man,” Sam said warmly, clapping Cas on the back. As they drew apart, he added, “How’s Jack? Did you have a chance to talk with him?”

Cas nodded, smiling. “I did. He told me everything that’s happened since…” Cas’s smile faltered, and his eyes darted over to land on Dean, who suddenly felt as though his face were on fire. Before Dean could say anything, though, Cas looked away, as though he were the one who’d been burned. “He told me everything,” he said instead. “He also said that he’ll be home as soon as he’s able, once he and Amara have finished remaking Heaven.”

Sam raised a brow, glancing curiously from Cas to Dean and back again; clearly, he’d clearly picked up on the weirdness between them. For a moment, Dean thought he was going to call them out on it and started casting about for something innocuous to say; however, Sam just smiled and nodded. “That’s great, Cas. Thanks for the update. And for saving Dean. If you hadn’t gone with him…” Sam swallowed, a more sober expression settling on his face. He reached out and clasped Cas’s shoulder. “Just...thank you. For everything.”

The genuineness of Sam’s words seemed to catch Cas off guard; then, after a moment, his lips quirked in a timid sort of smile, and he nodded. “Of course.”

Sam beamed at him, then took a step back and gestured toward the door. “Okay, I’m gonna go grab lunch while I wait to hear from Eileen, so I’ll see you guys later.” Then, with a poorly concealed smirk, he looked over at Dean and added, “Text me if I should steer clear of the Bunker for a few days.”

Dean glared daggers at him. Sammy, I swear to our kid who is now God...“How ’bout you just get a move on before I kick your ass? Bitch.”

But Sam just chuckled. “Good luck, jerk,” he replied, fondly; then, with a wave, he turned and headed for the door.

A moment later, he was gone, and the room was unbearably silent. Dean glanced up at Cas to find the latter regarding him almost shyly, as though any words uttered between them would bring the walls crashing down. For his part, Dean would have almost welcomed it. A quick death sounded pretty good right about now; at the very least, it’d absolve him from having to speak.

In the end, it was Cas who cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Jack said you wanted to see me?”

“Uh.” Dean sucked in a shaky breath, then nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did.” Then, feeling his face grow warm at Cas’s continued stare, he coughed and looked away. “Cas, have a seat. We, uh, we need to talk.”

He’d expected Cas to sit opposite him, in the chair Sam had vacated; but before he realized what was going on, Cas had crossed over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, less than a foot of mattress between their thighs. The heat on Dean’s face licked down his neck and back, almost overwhelming him, and if his legs hadn’t suddenly turned to jelly, he probably would have bolted.

Instead, he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “So...Jack was able to get you back, huh?” He immediately wanted to kick himself, because of course Jack had been able to get Cas back, that much was obvious. Way to go, dumbass...

Thankfully, Cas just nodded. “He promised the Empty a future of noninterference within Its realm in exchange for my life, and It accepted.”

“Huh.” Dean chewed his tongue thoughtfully. “Sounds like one of us actually made a good deal for a change.”

Cas gave him a tentative smile. “I hope so.” A pause; then: “Dean, I need you to know that I don’t regret my choice, because that’s what it was: my choice; and there’s nothing you could have said or done that would have made me choose differently.” Cas was speaking quickly, urgently, looking at Dean as though afraid Dean would interrupt. “And I also need you to know that I meant every word that I said about how I see you. Now that Chuck is gone, you can finally be happy, and...if it’s possible, I would like to be part of that happiness.” He looked up at Dean sadly, adding, “but if that’s not what you want, if you want me to leave, I promise I understand.”

Dean, who up to this point had only been able to listen in stunned silence, finally managed to unstick his voice. “If that’s not what I...What are you...You think I don’t want you to be a part of it?”

“I...” Cas looked down at his hands. “I’m aware that my connection to Heaven is no longer of particular value, and more than that, I don’t wish the knowledge of what you mean to me to make you uncomfortable.” He smiled sadly. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean; I recognize that. I—”

“Stop,” Dean interrupted, because every word out of Cas’s mouth was landing like a knife in his heart. He reached out and gripped Cas’s shoulder tightly, causing the latter to look up in startled surprise. “Damn it, Cas, stop talking like I’d only want you in my life if you were a goddamn tool I could use. You’re not a hammer, remember? Not mine or anyone else’s.”

Cas’s stunned expression melted into one of soft wonder. He nodded slowly, gazing back at Dean with eyes so earnest and hopeful that Dean had to look away lest he fall right into them. With a nervous swallow, Dean licked his lips and dropped his hand from Cas’s shoulder, determined to keep going now that he’d gotten started. “And..and about me not owing you anything...Cas, I owe you everything.” He made himself meet Cas’s gaze again, because damn it, this was apparently something Cas had doubts on, and Dean needed him to understand. “You pulled me out of Hell, and you helped me and Sam stop the Apocalypse and saved both our asses more times than I can count, and Jack’s alive because of you and so is everyone else in the world. And you think what, that I’m just gonna forget about all that?” he demanded, just barely managing to keep his voice from breaking. He shook his head. “Fuck that, Cas; you’re not disposable.”

Cas, whose expression had become increasingly anguished the longer Dean spoke, now looked dangerously close to tears. “Then what am I, Dean? I...please, I need to know, I need you to tell me, because I don’t...I can’t...”

Everything, Dean thought fiercely; you’re everything. Fuck, he just needed to find some way to actually say it…

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: maybe, if saying it out loud was too much...He closed his eyes and started praying. Cas?

He felt a slight shift of the mattress as Cas stiffened in attention. “Dean?” he asked, hesitantly.

Yeah. Yeah, I can hear you. Dean kept his eyes closed, responding in his head. Question is, can you hear me?

A beat of silence; then: “Yes. I can hear you.”

Dean let out a steady breath. Okay. Okay, good. ’Cause there’s something I need you know, but...He tried to finish the thought; damn it, he tried, but even like this, he just couldn’t fucking seem to—

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder; his eyes fluttered open to see Cas leaning forward into his space, looking at him with soft understanding. “There’s something you need me to know,” Cas repeated slowly, “but you’re not sure how to say it.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “You...you got that part, too?”

Cas nodded. “The way it works...It’s difficult to explain in human terms. Prayers are something I hear and see and feel, all at once, and they don’t have to be words. They can be feelings or images or—”

“Memories?” Dean sat up straight, an idea forming. “Does it work with memories?”

Cas’s brow furrowed in apparent confusion, but eventually, he nodded. “Yes. If you show them to me.”

Dean didn’t waste another moment—he couldn’t, or he might lose his nerve. He closed his eyes and resumed his prayer. Okay, Cas, listen up...

He was pulling Cas’s trench coat out of the reservoir after the Leviathans had walked Cas into it, and the feeling in his gut...Dean knew it was grief. He’d lost friends before; hell, he’d lost Sam before, but this...this felt different...

But the Leviathans were on the loose, and the wall blocking out Sam’s Hell trauma had crumbled, and Dean didn’t have time to let himself stop and think. He folded the trench coat and stowed it in Baby’s trunk.

Months later, he was talking to Cas in an abandoned hangar the night before they stormed Sucrocorp and went after Dick Roman. Cas was saying he should stay behind, told Dean he wasn’t good luck and would just get in the way, but Dean wasn't having it. He’d done life without Cas, and it had sucked. Now, he knew he’d rather have him, cursed or not, friend or...He’d rather have him.

He only told Cas the first part, though.

Then, after, when he was tearing through Purgatory for over a year, Dean realized it wasn’t that he’d rather have Cas—it was that he couldn’t imagine not having him. He was going to find Cas no matter the cost, wasn’t leaving Purgatory without him. Cas was...he wasn’t something Dean couldn’t stand to lose.

And then Dean lost him anyway.

Dean was back topside, and Cas was still in Purgatory because Dean had failed to save him. The knowledge haunted Dean; he saw Cas everywhere, was sure he was hallucinating...until it turned out he wasn’t. And then he learned that Cas had made the conscious choice to stay behind, because apparently, Dean was something he could stand to lose, and that knowledge hurt in a way Dean didn’t have words for.

So they didn’t talk about it.

Then Dean was kneeling, bloodied, in Lucifer’s crypt, Cas standing over him with his angel blade raised. And Dean didn’t know what was going on, but he knew, he knew, that this wasn’t his Cas. His Cas. The words were loud in his mind, and he was both awed and terrified of how right they felt. He needed Cas, and he told him so...and Cas’s angel blade fell to the floor.

They didn’t talk about that much, either.

Years went by, and now Dean was the one standing over a bloodied, crumpled Cas, the Mark of Cain burning on his arm and Cas’s stolen blade in hand. He needed to hurt Cas, or for Cas to hurt him, to fight back and end the goddamn constant screaming in Dean’s head that was all blood and rage and hate and—Cas’s hand came up to gently clasp Dean’s wrist. “No, Dean...please.” And for a second, just a second, the hate in Dean’s mind was quiet, and in its place, strong, surging, and undeniable, was—

Dean stabbed the book next to Cas’s head and walked away.

Next, he was standing in a barn with his mom and Sam and Crowley, watching in terrified helplessness as Cas writhed in agony on an old couch. Ramiel could come for them at any moment, and yet all Dean could think about was the intensity in Cas’s eyes as Cas told him, told all of them, that he loved them, and fuck, Dean loved him, too, but not the familial sort of love that Cas seemed to be getting at, no. Dean loved him in a raw, real sense that he felt in his bones and that scared him half out of his mind, and he wanted to say it; but then Cas was convulsing, and it was too late…

Then Crowley snapped Ramiel’s spear, and Cas was saved, and Dean told himself that enough was enough, he needed to get his shit together and find some way to tell Cas what he felt before—

He was kneeling, silent, on the shore of a lake. The sky was starless overhead, and Cas was dead on the ground in front of him, wings scorched against the sand. And Dean was aching and empty, hollowed out by grief and regret, because he’d waited too long, and now it was too late…

And then he was dead, or something like it. He was in Death’s library and Billie was showing him the shelf of books with his name on the cover, detailing all the possible ways he could die, and Dean should have felt fear, should have felt fight, but instead, all he felt was finally. He hadn’t been able to save the people he loved, hadn’t been able to save Cas, so what was the point of going back? Sam would be better off without him, would get a shot at the normal life he’d always wanted. Billie could toss Dean in the Empty; he didn’t care anymore. Hell, he wanted it, anything to end all his goddamn regret—

But Billie sent him back anyway, and later that night, Dean’s phone rang.

Cas was back. He was alive and he was back, and fuck, he was so much more than Dean deserved. And Dean told himself that he was okay with that, with not having Cas in the way that he wanted, as long as he had him in some way, shape, or form. But then Jack killed Mary, and Dean...he was so angry and hurt that he lashed out at Cas, said horrible things he didn’t mean but didn’t know how to take back once they were out, and he couldn’t even look at Cas without wanting to scream and break and beg for forgiveness. He watched as Cas left him after they fought, left him like everyone else did, and Dean let him, because he knew now that needing someone wasn’t the same as deserving them.

Then they were back in Purgatory after a botched attempt at securing a Leviathan Blossom. They’d been ambushed, and Dean had been knocked out, had woken up alone with Cas nowhere in sight and limited time to make it back. And Dean knew he still didn’t deserve Cas, but he prayed to him anyway. He told Cas about the hurt and the anger and the helplessness he felt when it took hold of him, and he was sorry, God, he was so fucking sorry…

When he found Cas at the last moment at the base of a tree, he wanted...he needed to tell Cas what he hadn’t had the nerve to say in his prayer, because it was so much more than of course I forgive you; it was please forgive me, I know I don’t fucking deserve you but I want you, I need you, I love you…

But they had to go, because as always, there was never enough fucking time.

And then they were trapped in the Bunker’s interrogation room as Billie pounded on the door. Cas was going to die, and it was Dean’s fault, again it was his fault, because he’d screwed up, because he’d been stupid and angry and that was all he knew how to be—

But then Cas was talking with tears in his eyes, and each word was its own revelation, because Cas was looking at him the way Dean had never in a million years thought to be worthy of. And Dean forgot how to breathe, because suddenly, Cas was saying it, he said it: “I love you…”

And then the Empty took him, and Billie, and Dean was left alone on the floor. He was dimly aware of the way Sam’s name flashed on his phone, but he couldn’t answer, because then he’d have to explain, and…and...

Dean cradled his head in his hands and sobbed. He felt like his entire soul had been lit on fire and that every word he’d ever known had been ripped out of him by the roots, all except for the two he murmured, strangled and broken, into the silence: “Me too...”

Dean gasped and ended the prayer. He opened his eyes and felt tears roll down his cheeks; he hadn’t noticed them forming while he’d been praying, and he was about to reach up to dash them away when he saw that Cas’s face was wet with tears of his own; he looked more wrecked than Dean had ever seen him, and the hand he’d kept on Dean’s shoulder throughout the prayer had started to tremble. “Dean, I—”

“Look,” Dean said shakily, because if he didn’t say this now, he didn’t know if he ever could. “I...I know you said happiness isn't really in the having and all that, but...well, I think maybe it is. For me, anyway. Because Cas, if there’s one thing I’ve learned after all the crap we’ve been through, it’s that my life ain’t happy if it doesn’t have you in it.” He swallowed a lump in his throat and pushed on: “You said you thought you couldn’t have me, but the thing is, you’ve had me for years. And I just...I need you to hear me, I need you to know…” He almost stopped then, almost couldn’t go on, because the look of absolute love in Cas’s eyes was overwhelming, and Dean could no more deny it than he could give up breathing. He raised his hand, placed it firmly on top of the one on his shoulder, and squeezed. “You changed me too, Cas.”

Then Cas was kissing him, and Dean let out a muffled sob of relief as he felt Cas’s hands wrap around his middle and pull them flush against one another. His grip was hot and desperate on Dean’s back, and the way his mouth moved against Dean’s made Dean feel as though he were going to burst into millions of joyous pieces. He tangled his hands in Cas’s hair and kissed him hard, tugging him backward until Cas was straddling him on the mattress, his solid, unyielding weight a blissful, dizzying contrast to the lightness Dean felt in his mind as Cas’s tongue slid surely over his own, ravishing and reverent and real. They were real, and they always had been.

And Dean would never, ever doubt that again.

[supernaturaldesires]

A Descent Into Insanity - Chapter Seven

Based on request by @sweetpotato-97

Could ask for a fic of Yandere Dean with a reader who sees him as a best friend and a form of brother for them, of course in the beginning Dean was not a yandere but he changed with the passage of time?

Note: the reader in a way is innocent and does not know that Dean is in love with them.

Pairing: Yandere!Dean x Reader

Additional characters: Sam, Bobby, Castiel

Warnings: Death

Word Count: 1,580

“You son of a bitch!” you screamed at Dean as you launched yourself at him, fist raised and ready to swing. Dean ducked out of the way of your punch just in time, and hooked an arm around your waist. He held you against him, your back pressed against his chest. His other arm wrapped around your torso, pinning your arms to your side. “Let go of me!”

Sam took a step towards you, but Dean tutted at him. “Nuh-uh, Sammy,” he hissed. “Take another step and I swear I’ll snap her neck. If I can’t have her, no-one can.”

“Then I guess no-one’s having me,” you growled as you slammed your heel onto his foot and just as he buckled, you drove your elbow into his crotch. He released you, winded, and you darted forward towards Sam, out of Dean’s reach. 

As Dean began to gain his composure, he glared at you, shooting darts through his eyes. “You said we would be together,” he bellowed. “You said you were mine!” 

“You fucking drugged me, Dean!” You screamed back at him. “Again! Since when is that your answer when someone doesn’t agree with you?”

Dean lunged at you, but Sam was ready for him and tackled him to the ground. Even Bobby darted in front of you, ready to act as the second line of defence. Cas came to Sam’s aid in restraining the elder Winchester whilst Bobby guided you away. You took several steps backwards but couldn’t take your eyes off the man who you had considered to be your brother until just a few days ago.

“How has this happened, Bobby?” You whispered softly, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “What happened to him?”

Bobby sighed as he watched over Sam and Cas, who had now been able to restrain Dean to a chair with rope. “I wish I knew,” the older man murmured. You could see in his eyes that he was struggling with the scene himself. After all, he was like a father to Dean and Sam, and to witness your child become a threat to his own family is difficult for any parent to process.

“I can’t stay.” The words broke the silence that had hung in the air for the last hour. You, Sam and Bobby had been sat around the kitchen table, while Cas kept an eye on Dean. Since you had all seated at the table, you’d all waited for someone to speak; for someone to find the right words.

Sam lifted his sad eyes to you. “Y/N-” he said gently, but you stopped him. 

“No, Sam,” you insisted. “It’s the only way. You can’t kick Dean out, he’s still your brother. For whatever reason, he’s acting like this because of me. If I get as far away from him as possible, maybe he’ll forget about me.”

“You’re still family,” Sam argued. “We can find a way to sort this out.”

“And even if you did leave,” Bobby added. “There’s nothing to say he will forget you, that he won’t try and look for you. Obviously we’d do what we can, but we can’t exactly lock him up forever or keep him under 24-hour surveillance.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel safe around him anymore.” Your voice was beginning to crack as tears resurfaced. “And you’re right Bobby, we don’t know that he’ll forget about me.” You lifted your eyes to meet theirs, tears now rolling down your cheeks. “But I have a plan.” 

Dean’s POV

“What is going on with you, Dean?” Cas asked for the fifth time. Still, I didn’t answer him, keeping my gaze fixated on the floor. All I could think about was Y/N. Where was she? I needed to see her. I needed to apologize for threatening her before. If I could just talk to her, I could make her understand. “Dean!”

“Shut up, Cas!” I growled. “I’m not talking to anyone except Y/N!”

Cas got in my face, gripping my shoulders tight. “Damn it, Dean, something is happening to you. You need to tell me what is going on.”

“Nothing is going on!” I roared. “I just. Want. Y/N!” I fought against the restraints so hard that I nearly tipped the chair over, but Cas kept me upright. I glared at the angel until he finally gave up and sat in the chair opposite me. We both sat there unmoving, in complete silence, as the hours ticked by.

There was no clock in the room so I had no sense of how long had passed, but it must have been hours - perhaps even half a day. Where was Y/N? What if she had left? My fists balled and my throat clenched at the thought. If she had left, where would she go? She didn’t have any family besides us, I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for her. Suddenly my bedroom door flung open, interrupting my thoughts. Sam marched in first, but he didn’t even look at me. His eyes immediately fell on Cas and beckoned him to step outside. Where was Y/N? I craned my head, but they closed the door behind them. I screamed at the closed door in frustration.

Only a few moments passed before they re-entered; Sam first, followed by Cas, then eventually she glided in. Maybe it was prolonged amount of time away from her, but she looked more dazzling than ever. “Y/N,” I breathed with relief. “I’m so glad you’re safe, that you’re here. I was getting so worried. Look, I’m so sorry about-”

“Listen, Dean,” she said firmly, folding her arms and addressing me in a stern tone as though I was a child. “Whatever this is needs to end. This isn’t normal. This isn’t healthy.”

“Y/N, please let me explain,” I rasped. “I’m sorry about earlier, truly I am. Please understand that I love you. I realise this kind of love I’m feeling is different, but that doesn’t make it any less real.” I was beginning to shake with panic now. I couldn’t lose her. Not now, not after everything. “Please, let me prove myself to you.”

Y/N sighed and shook her head, a forlorn look on her face. “It’s too late for that, Dean,” she mumbled in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”

She began to approach me then and for a split second I had hope that she still felt something for me. Then I saw her hand reach behind and reveal a knife from the waistband of her jeans. “Y/N, what are you doing?” Panic began to flood through me. I looked desperately to Sam who looked equally panicked.

“Y/N, wait!” Sam yelled and launched himself at her, tackling her from behind. They came crashing down to my feet in a cacophony of shouts and groans. Then came a distinctive sound. A horrific, abrupt grunt.

Time seemed to stop for a moment. The air was still, as if not a soul in that room was breathing. “Cas, release me right now!” I demanded, not taking my eyes off my brother at my feet. His large body completely covered Y/N, I couldn’t see her small frame until he shakily came to his feet. It was only then that my eyes adjusted to the pool of blood that was seeping from her body.

My heart stopped beating, my throat constricted. I couldn’t breathe. “No,” I rasped, collapsing to my knees. With shaking hands, I turned her body to reveal the dagger protruding from her chest. “NO!” 

Your POV

“I’ll see you ‘round, Bobby,” you said thickly, trying desperately not to cry. 

The older man gave you a sympathetic smile as he pulled you into a tight hug. “Gonna miss you, kid,” he said softly. “Don’t be afraid to check in every now and again.” Once he released you, he opened your car door and you bundled yourself into the driver’s seat, throwing your duffel bag into the passenger side. “Oh, and Y/N?” You looked up at Bobby. “Using a shapeshifter to fake your death? That’s a mighty smart move. You’re a bright kid - it’s almost scary sometimes. Although, I have to admit that having him bring the knife out on Dean was pretty risky.”

“I know, but if my death was in Dean’s defence, he can’t hold it against Sammy. He might be pissed to begin with, but he’ll understand eventually why Sam would come to his defence. It had to be an accident, otherwise Dean would find someone to blame, to hold a grudge against.”

Bobby shrugged with a grunt as he closed your car door. Winding down your window, you gave Bobby a fist-bump before you pulled away. You were less than a mile away from the Bunker when your phone pinged with a message; just one word from David: “Done.”

After you and the Winchesters had helped David find his brother’s killer a few years back, he had insisted that he owed you a favour, should you ever need it. Sam and Dean didn’t bother taking the guy’s number, but you did. You were never sure you would ever actually need it, but you figured it didn’t hurt to have a few tricks up your sleeve should the time ever come. 

Heading nowhere in particular, you cranked up the volume of your radio and let the wind and the smell of gasoline sooth your worries as you drove into the sunset.

-FIN-

<= Chapter Six

Dean tags: @akshi8278​, @maniacproffesor​

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

[waywardnerd67]

Everlasting

Summary: People always said that Hollywood was a whole other world. Soon, (Y/N) was about to find out just how different Hollywood could be. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader Warnings: AU/Fluff/Angst Word Count: 5564 Prompts: “Loving me is a death sentence.” / “We found each other. That’s all that matters.” A/N #1: This is for @supernatural-jackles​ SPN Bi- Weekly Writing Challenge. Don’t judge me… I’ve been rewatching/rereading Twilight. *ducks from flying objects* A/N #2: Jensen Photo Edit Credited To: @justjensenanddean​

I stopped in front of the Stage One door, looking up at the massive building in front of me. The last month had led up to this very day. I was hired on by Warner Brothers to be the Personal Assistant to Jared Padalecki while he filmed in Vancouver. Even though being a PA was a horrible job, working on the set of my favorite TV show was a dream. I had spent my days leading up to my moving to Vancouver training my inner fangirl to be a normal human being.

“Remember they eat, breath, poop just like any other human.” I whispered to myself on the plane ride from my hometown.

“Girl, please! They are sculpted from marble by the hand of God himself. Just don’t embarrass us in front of them. Make a good impression!” She commanded as if I had any control over that.

Now, standing in front of the main sound stage, my stomach coiled into an anxious knot. Trembling I took a step forward through the door and found myself looking into the Men of Letters Bunker. My inner fangirl squealed with delight urging my body to walk through the set.

“Can I help you?” A tall, dark haired man stood with a camera rig around his waist.

I cleared my throat of the large lump forming within it, “Yeah, my name is (Y/N) and it’s my first day as a PA. The studio told me to go to Stage One when I arrived this morning.”

He smiled a soft chuckle coming from his chest, “Oh you must be Jared’s new wrangler. Here I will show you where to go.”

I followed him to a small office building that had on site office staff and writers housed. He pointed me in the direction of Susan, the executive assistant to Jim Michaels. She was on the phone as she waved me into her office. Standing off to the side was another woman with long, wavy blonde hair. Her fit body was covered by a simple pair of dark jeans, soft chocolate sweater and black knee high boots.

She stuck her hand out towards me, “Hi, I’m Ash. You must be Jared’s new PA.”

Shaking her hand I nodded, “I’m (Y/N).”

“I’m so excited you’re here. Now I don’t have to keep my eyes on both of them. I’m Jensen’s PA so you’ll be hanging with me quite a bit.”

Susan ended her call smiling up at the both of us, “Fantastic, you’re here! I will go with you to meet Jared and then you can shadow Ash for this week. How did your move go?”

“As well as could be expected moving from Kansas to Vancouver. My apartment is amazing.” It was the truth. The apartment Warner Brothers provided was twice the size of the one I had in Kansas.

Ash chuckled, “Yeah it’s nice until you have two Texans crashing your place at all hours.”

My eyes must have widened because both ladies began to laugh, “I haven’t told anyone that you are a fan, (Y/N).”

“Oh… yeah…” I felt my cheeks burning and my inner fangirl was doing cartwheels.

“We’ll keep that between us for now. Jensen and Jared will eat you alive if they found out that juicy piece of information.” Ash chuckled as I noticed Susan flinch slightly.

They led me back towards the row of trailers, the first of which, they stopped and knocked on the door. My heart was beating against my chest and my hands began to shake as the door opened. There stood Jared Padalecki in all his 6’4” glory. His chestnut hair damp from a shower, his light gray t-shirt clinging to his sculpted body and the waistband of his boxers peeking out from his low hanging jeans.

I sucked in a shaky breath making Ash chuckled beside me

“Jared this is your new PA, (Y/N). Be nice.” Susan warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

His laughter echoed around them, “I’m always nice. It’s great to meet you (Y/N). Susan and Jim have told me great things about you. Hopefully, we’ll be great friends.” He held out his hand to me.

When I placed mine in his, the heat coming off of it surprised me. The corner of his lips curling upward into a sly smirk. His hazel eyes caught my attention as flecks of emerald and sapphire seemed to shine. He let go of her hand taking a step towards Ash then leaning down to kiss her kiss.

“Now I see why you needed a new PA.” I mentioned as they both smiled at me, “I look forward to working and getting to know you.”

“Me as well. Are you taking her to meet grumpy pants?” Jared looked at Susan who brow was furrowed at the interaction.

Ash groaned, “Oh no, I thought after last night he would be in a better mood.”

Looking from Susan to Ash it seemed everyone was in on the secret except me, “I’m sure we don’t need to bother him before filming. I can always meet him another time.”

“I’ll take her over to meet him. I need to check in with him anyway and it will be a good experience for her.” Ash reached up giving Jared a quick kiss then stepping away from him.

“I think you have this under control, so if you need anything (Y/N) just come to my office. Please check in with me when you’re done with your day.” Susan did not wait for a reply and walked back towards the offices.

Jared chuckled, “You’d think after all this time that she would be used to us. Ugh!” Ash smacked him in the stomach giving him a stern look.

“Come on (Y/N), let’s go meet Jensen.” Ash and I waved goodbye to Jared.

We walked a couple of trailers down and again my heart began to race. I tried taking a few deep breaths to calm down but the moment she knocked on the door all the air in my lungs vanished. The door opened and Jensen Ackles looked down at us.

“Ash, why so early?” His velvet voice sent shivers down my body.

A slight breeze blew past us and his lean body went rigid. His bright olive eyes darkened to a deep forest green. His fists were clenched at his sides and I could see his arms trembling. Jensen narrowed his menacing gaze at me freezing me in place.

“Go. Away. Now.” He seethed going back into his trailer and slamming the door.

Wide eyed and stunned, I turned to Ash who was looking perplexed, “(Y/N) why don’t you go to craft services. Tell them you want Jared’s usually breakfast and bring it back to his trailer. I will meet you there.”

“O-Okay.”

Ash directed me to where craft services were and the wonderful owners started chuckling when I asked for Jared’s usual. I carefully balanced three cups of coffee atop of three styrofoam containers filled to the brim with eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, muffins and a small cup of fruit. Before I could knock, Ash opened the door to let me inside.

“Great job! My first day, I spilled the coffee.” Ash began to open the containers taking some food for herself and one of the coffees.

She handed another one to me with a soft smile, “Where’s Jared?”

“He’ll be back. He’s having a heart to heart with Jensen. For today, I would just stay clear of him.” I nodded sipping my coffee as Jared came back in frowning.

The morning and afternoon flew by as the guys began filming. Taking Ash’s advice, I made sure to stay out of Jensen’s way and even his line of sight. Not that it mattered because he was permanently in a foul mood for the day. Finally, around six o’clock Ash sent me to see Susan saying she could handle the rest of the evening filming.

Making my way to the offices, I had not seen Jensen for a while and as I made my way to Susan’s office I could hear his velvet voice coming from Jim Michaels’ office.

“She has to go.” He hissed, my heart dropping to my stomach.

There was a long sigh, “She comes highly recommended and honestly she is over qualified to even be a PA. She’s smart, talented and in need of getting her foot in the door. You better than anyone know that starts from the lower level. Did she do something or see something?”

Jensen let out a dark chuckle, “She hasn’t seen anything. She seems naive.”

“Then what’s the problem Jensen?”

There was a long pause before he answered, “She exists, that's the problem.”

I had heard enough and walked towards Susan’s door knocking before entering her office. She was packing up for the day when she looked up smiling at me, “How’d it go?”

I put on my best smile, “Jared and Ash are great. Even Misha behaved himself.”

“Jensen?” She inquired looking as if she were trying to see under my mask.

I squared my shoulders back determined to make this work, “Fine. I know my place and will keep my distance. He’s not who I have to worry about, so all that matters is how I keep Jared on time and in line.”

Susan seemed impressed by my answer then pulled out a manila envelope from her briefcase, “Legal didn’t have this drawn up at the time of your hiring. You will need to read this over and sign it by tomorrow morning.”

I took it from her, “Of course. I will have it for you first thing in the morning. Have a good night.”

Walking out of her office, I made sure Jensen was nowhere in sight. Feeling confident he was gone, I made my way towards my car. Looking down towards the ground as I walked past the row of trailers, I did not notice the black SUV behind me. The honk startled me as I tripped over my own feet landing firmly on my ass.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Just needed you to move over a little.” I recognized the driver as Jared and Jensen’s bodyguard/driver, Clif.

The back window slid down as I stood up and Jensen’s dark eyes pierced through me. As they began to pull away I swore I heard a low hiss coming from him. I hurried to my car and drove off the lot as fast as I could. It was not until I was on the highway that my fired nerves finally started to calm down. I knew there was nothing special about me but having my favorite actor despise me sapped all hope out of my heart.

Once I was parked in my spot at my apartment building, I was standing at the elevator when the doors slid open revealing once again the gorgeous man who seemingly hated me.

“Are you following me?” He asked, walking directly at me glaring.

I stepped back, “No I-I’m not. The studio is renting an apartment for me here. I h-had no idea you lived here until Ash mentioned it this morning.”

He ran his hand over his sandy, brown hair, “Why did you take this job?”

His question took me by surprise for a moment, deciding honesty was the best policy, “I wanted to be a part of my favorite show and I wanted to learn more about the business. No better way than to start at ground level and work my way up.”

“Favorite show, huh? So, you like monsters?” He chuckled as if he had told himself a joke.

“The monsters are cool, I guess. I’m more invested in the story of the brothers. Plus there’s no romance in Supernatural which is nice.” I watched as his shoulders relaxed briefly.

His eyes glanced around then came back to me, “You don’t like a love story?”

“No. I’ve had my heart broken too many times. I’d rather escape into a world of monsters than deal with matters of the heart.” My own heart betraying me as it thumped against my ribs.

Standing in front of him now, Jensen was truly striking. His sharp facial features, fair skin, plump red lips and muscular body had my own body aching in ways it had not in years. He was beautiful.

“I should go.” He abruptly left walking off towards the street.

As soon as he was out of sight, I sucked in a deep breath willing my body to move towards the elevator. That night my dreams were filled with dark alleyways and forest green eyes.

Over the next several weeks, I fell into a regular routine on set with Jared and Ash. I kept to my word that I avoided Jensen at any cost, but had noticed he was continually coming around me more. At first, I thought it was just because of Jared, but then I noticed he was coming around when he was not needed on set.

My inner fangirl was urging and encouraging me to talk to him. Then my first time meeting Jensen flashed through my mind and kept me far away from him. The last day of filming for the week was a night shoot. Ash and I were constantly running to get coffee for ourselves and the crew to stay warm. Jared every once in a while would pull us both into a bear hug allowing his body heat to warm us up. We were in the middle of a forest as Jared and Misha were filming a scene and I was trying everything in my power not to chatter my teeth.

“You’re going to freeze to death.” His smooth voice brought heat to my cheeks.

I pulled my coat around me tighter, “I-I’ll be al-alright.”

His perfect lips pursed together before he slid his jacket off his shoulders, “Here take this,” He stepped just close enough to drape his large jacket over my shoulders.

“T-Thank you.” I slipped my arms inside surprised that it was slightly chilled still.

We stood there in silence watching as Jared purposely messed with Misha’s takes, “Children.” Jensen muttered as I chuckled.

In a rare moment I witnessed him smile brief and my inner fangirl sighed gracefully falling onto a lounge chair, “You have a great smile. It’s nice to see it.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “Yes well, I’ve recently come to the realization that instead of trying to fight fate I should just embrace her cruel destiny.”

I raised an eyebrow at him confused, but decided it was better I remain silent. What did he mean by fighting fate? What destiny? My heart began to race as hope filled my chest. There was something about the way he had been acting and what he said that gave me hope he was talking about me. The director wrapped for the night and we made the trip back to the studio.

Just as my luck has always been, when I got to my car it would not start. I was one of the last people to leave the studio in the early hours of the morning. Trying to decide if it was worth calling a cab or just sleeping in my car. I was leaning towards the latter of the two.

“Everything okay?”

I yelped turning quickly to see Jensen stopped in his car, “Jesus, you scared me.”

He chuckled before shutting his car off and coming towards mine. He lifted the hood and began checking through everything, “Looks like it could be your starter or alternator. We can have one of the mechanics look at it Monday morning.”

I sighed heavily, “Great… just great.”

“Come on, I can give you a ride back to our building.” His genuine smile dazzled me for a moment as he closed up my car and went to open the door to his car for me, “(Y/N)?”

“Um, yeah that would be great. Thank you.” I got into his car shivering from how cold it was inside.

Jensen turned on the heat and took off down the main street towards the highway. His large hands gripped the steering wheel tightly but the rest of his body seemed relaxed. A wave of fear crashed into a wave of excitement of being in close proximity to him. My inner fangirl and mine’s curiosity was getting the better of us from earlier.

“What did you mean by embracing fate’s cruel destiny?” I thought maybe he had not heard me as a silent tension filled the air between us.

“Did you sign the NDA they drew up for you?” Answering a question with a question was a pet peeve of mine but I let it slide.

I turned slightly in my seat, “Yes, though I don’t understand why I needed to sign one. It was clearly stated in my new hire paperwork not to speak of any upcoming episodes or scripts.”

Again, his soft laughter had an edge to it, “The NDA has nothing to do with the show or network. It is something our managers and agents have in place to protect us.”

“You mean protect you and Jared? Why would you two need protecting?” Suddenly images of Jensen starring in his very own version of Fifty Shades of Grey filled my mind and my cheeks burned.

We were approaching our exit and I knew my time would be up with him, but I did not want to leave. He remained silent until he parked in his space within our garage. He turned towards me, his eyes downcast and shoulders slumped forward. If I had not known any better, I would have thought he was upset or in pain.

“Jensen, anything you or Jared would tell me or I would see would strictly be between us. I don’t need a NDA to keep private matters private. I have more respect for both of you that I would never want anyone running your names through the mud of public opinion.”

I reached out my fingers briefly brushing against the back of his smooth skin. A small gasp escaped my lips from how cold he was even with his heater on. He pulled his hand away from me quickly getting out of his car. I followed him towards the main street where he finally stopped.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He held up his hand to silence me.

Turning back towards me, his eyes were dark once again but not threatening unlike when we first met. No, there was something else. Something I did not recognize, but it made my heart race with anticipation.

“Tomorrow, I promise to explain everything. I will come by to get you around ten o’clock.” Jensen hesitantly brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek and instinctively I gravitated towards his embrace.

He quickly took off down the sidewalk leaving me with a million questions and yearning I had never felt before. In a daze I made up to my apartment and into my bed. Sleep did not come easy and when it did my dreams were vivid, sensual.

True to his word, there was a knock on my door at ten o’clock on the dot. I opened my door inviting him in as I finished getting ready.

“I’m sorry about my place being a mess.” I mumbled going back into my room to grab my coat.

I heard me laugh, “Quite alright, I mean Jared’s place is a pigsty.”

When I walked back out, I watched as his bright olive eyes traveled the length of my body. I nervously fidget with the strings on my coat as a slow smirk spread across his face. Jensen was dressed in a simple black hoodie, dark denim pants and black boots. A pair of dark Ray Bans hanging from the collar of his hoodie. Even dressed down he looked like a runway model.

We walked to the elevator, an empty car arriving, and as we stepped in the tension between us was nearly unbearable. I shifted from one foot to the next avoiding his intense gaze. With lightning speed, Jensen had me caged against the wall and his lips pressed against my throat.

“Jen-Jensen…” I sighed breathlessly as he dragged his nose up my neck to under my ear.

“Dammit, I promised myself I would not lose control around you, but…” he paused taking a deep breath in making my legs tremble, “you smell divine.”

As quickly as the moment had happened it was over as the elevator doors opened. Jensen was on the other side of the car looking unphased by what had happened. Whereas I was trying to remember how to breath and walk at the same time. His low chuckle and smug smirk made me smack his rock hard bicep.

“Ow.” I muttered making him laugh even harder. The pain was worth it to hear his musical laughter.

Instead of going to the garage, Jensen led me towards the sidewalk. He slid his dark sunglasses over his beautiful eyes and pulled his hood up over his head. I figured this was so no one would recognize him from the show. We walked side by side towards a nearby park. Our hands would brush against one another until finally he took mine in his pulling me closer to him. Leading me to a spot just off the Vancouver Harbor.

The sun was shining bright warming my skin then a cold breeze from the water would make me shiver. We sat at a clear spot sitting silently next to one another staring out over the water. Jensen gently pulled me into his side and draped his arm around my shoulder.

“Well, this is much better than when I first met you.” I whispered leaning my head on his shoulder.

I felt him press his lips and nose against the top of my head inhaling deeply, “Yes, well when we first met I wasn’t expecting you to be so… appealing.”

I sat up looking at him, “What does that mean? I feel like you are talking around me and I don’t like that.”

He sighed, pulling his hood down further as the sun shined brightly over us, “It’s only because the truth would send you running far, far away.”

“I told you, anything you tell me is between us. You have my word and a signed NDA for a safety net.” My inner fangirl and I were desperate to know what secret he was holding back. She was practically jumping on the lounger within my mind.

“When Eric Kripke came up with the idea of Supernatural, he had no idea how close to being right he was.” He pulled his sunglasses down his piercing out looking over them.

I swallowed the small lump lodge in my throat, “So you’re saying that supernatural creatures are real or that hunters are real?”

He smiled, pushing his glasses back up, “I guess hunters could be real, but then humans would have to acknowledge the fact that monsters were real.”

“Monsters… like you?” Suddenly a lot of his behaviors were making sense even if my mind could not wrap around the fact that monsters were real.

He nodded, “Does that scare you?”

“No.” My answer came quick and firm. I was not afraid of him. I knew he would never harm me. Somewhere deep within my heart and soul, I knew I was right where I belonged.

“You should be. I’m a dangerous creature even more so than Jared.” He looked out towards the water, “Mainly because Jared is just a big dog. All cute and cuddly as Ash would say.”

“Jared is a… werewolf?” I could not quite believe the words coming from my mouth, but his nod answered my question, “Then you are…”

Jensen faced me baring his teeth as his fangs grew slightly longer than the rest. I sucked in a breath as he closed his mouth, “Now you’re afraid.”

“No. More mesmerized than anything. You’re… you’re a vampire.” The awe in my voice could not be helped. I spent most of my life reading grand tales of mythical creatures and humans falling in love with them. Now, I was in the middle of my own fairytale.

He scoffed, “Mesmerized? I’m an undead murderer and you're in awe of it.” He looked away in disgust.

“I’m in awe of you. You’re obviously drawn to my scent and yet here you sit next to me. You could have ended me at any time these last few weeks but you haven’t. Hell, in the elevator that could have been it, but all you did was… kiss my neck. I’m in awe of your strength and will power.”

Jensen's expression softened and he pulled me back into his side, “It’s difficult being around you. When I first met you, I had never wanted a human so much in my life. First it was my primal need, but now…”

“Now what?” My heart skipped a beat as hope filled my chest.

“Now, I have this overwhelming need to protect you and be by your side always.” His jaw clenched as he spoke the words.

I reached up brushing my hand against his cheek, “Why is that so hard for you to say?”

He leaned into my touch, “Loving me is a death sentence. The thought of losing you is insufferable.”

Jensen’s forehead pressed against mine as I whispered, “We found each other. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that right?” He chuckled, easily lifting me onto his lap and wrapping his arms around me.

“I’ve been called worse. Tell me more about your life.”

For the next several hours, Jensen told me all about his life from his rebirth in 1920 to how he and Jared became best friends. I hung on every word of every story he told and it was not until my stomach began to growl from hunger that he finally stopped.

“You should eat.” He easily picked me up as he stood and set my feet on the ground.

I looked away from him, the anxiety building in my chest knowing we would have to part ways soon. He laced his fingers through mine and led me back towards the main sidewalk. When we arrived at our building, I was having a difficult time keeping the tears that threatened to fall back. Once again, as we stepped into the elevator, the air tightened around us.

“What is it about elevators?” he muttered making me laugh as the very thought had gone through my head.

When we went past my floor, I looked over and saw a smile on his face. We stopped at the very top floor both sighing as we exited the elevator. He pulled out his keys and opened the door for apartment 1520.

“I thought it was only fair if you saw my place as well.” Jensen held the door open for me as I walked in.

The layout was open and bright with one wall being all windows. His furniture was dark gray with steel blue and navy accent pillows. He had a big flat screen TV with a few game consoles. What caught her by surprise was the wall of records and record player he had. I turned back around to see him anxiously watching me.

“Not what I expected from a vampire.” I walked towards his flawless kitchen and looked untouched which I guess was to be expected.

“Were you expecting a coffin and velvet?” His smile was infectious as I nodded.

Taking off my coat, I sat down on his couch as he walked off towards his bedroom. Jensen came back in with his tablet and a blanket. He placed the blanket over my and sat next to me.

“Order whatever you would like for dinner. Don’t worry about paying for it because I insist.” He chuckled as I rolled my eyes.

Deciding to order from my favorite pizza place I handed him the tablet to put his payment information in, “What do you eat?”

“Finally! The question I have been waiting for all day.” He exclaimed, “Are you sure you want to know?”

I nodded, “If I’m diving head first into oblivion then I want to know everything.”

“Brave woman. I still drink blood, but that which is donated. There are certain organizations within the acting community that are set up for actors such as myself. We go to grab our supply of ‘food’ and then we store it in our homes.” He pointed back towards the refrigerator, “All of it is from blood drives once the hospital receives its share then we buy the remainder.”

It was better than him stealing blood like Benny in Supernatural or drinking animal blood like Edward in Twilight, “Oh okay then. At least I won’t be surprised if I open the fridge now.”

There was a sad undertone in his laugh, but I chose to ignore it, “What about Jared and Ash?”

“Ash is human, but she seemingly blossomed at the end of last season. Jared was immediately drawn to her and they spent most of the summer at his cabin near Red Rock Point, Montana.” Jensen bit his lip smirking.

“Why?” I knew there was more to what he was saying but he seemed almost embarrassed to speak of it.

He sighed pulling me closer to him, “If you had asked me that question a month ago I would have given you a snarky answer about not being able to control his inner animal, but now… now I know better.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, “Meaning…”

“Every few months, Jared would go into what he calls a rut. His need to procreate becomes overwhelming and he has to be off on his own as a wolf to deal with it. Now, he found his mate and one weekend a month they will go off to his cabin to… you know…”

My inner fangirl was begging on her knees for Jensen to say the words out loud but I just nodded, “I get it. Why is it now that you know better than before?”

I looked up into his shining eyes captivated as he leaned closer to me, “Because now I know exactly how Jared felt when he found Ash.”

His perfect full lips were inching closer to mine. My tongue darted out over them just before his were going to touch them then his door intercom buzzed. A small growl escaped his lips as he quickly got up buzzing the delivery man in. I found myself trying to take deep breaths to collect myself as my inner fangirl was hyperventilating.

“Dinner is served.” He said placing the box down on the table.

“I’m not hungry right now.” I said as he sat back down next to me.

He laughed, “Eat before the alien in your stomach pops out and eats the pizza for you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him before lifting the box open and grabbing a slice. Settling back into his side, he turned on his Netflix account. His fingertips trailing down my arm as I took a bite.

As I was taking a second bite he leaned in whispering into my ear, “There will be plenty of time to test my will power later.”

I shivered, truly no longer hungry for food. I placed the piece of pizza back in the back turning towards him, “What would happen if I took initiative and kissed you?”

He turned into a stone statue as he stared at me, “That would be a very dangerous thing to do.” He spoke slowly with a hint of challenge in his tone.

My inner fangirl was cheering me on as I pushed the blanket onto the floor and swung my leg over his lap sitting on his thighs. His ice cold hands gripped my hips as I leaned down my lips hovering his. There was a brief moment where time stood still then it was as if a rubber band snapped. His lips crashed against me and his arms wrapped around my waist holding me against him. He groaned as if in pain and I pulled away from him.

“Since I’m breaking all my rules and going to hell…” He whispered and in a flash we were both tumbling onto his bed.

That night was the best one of my life. Jensen may be a primal killer but with me he was nothing short of a gentle lover. I knew from that moment, I would do anything to remain at his side forever. Just like every cliche movie or book trope where the meek, naive woman falls in love with a monster that has a heart gold. I found myself in their exact shoes desiring an everlasting love affair with a vampire.

On Monday, when Jensen and I arrived at the studio, Jared and Ash were waiting by his trailer. No words were spoken between them but by the smiles on their faces I could tell they knew what was going on between Jensen and I.

“You owe me twenty bucks Padalecki.” I heard Ash as Jared grumbled.

Jensen and I laughed as we walked to the studio building to meet with the executive producers and legal team concerning our newly starting relationship together.  

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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[fieryfantasybooklover]

Share Your Burden - A Destiel hurt/comfort fic. Written circa me being on 15.16

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

“Cas? You ready to head out?” Dean called from the main room of the bunker, casting his eyes around the room in a quick last minute check to make sure they had whatever they needed to take down the small nest of vamps they’d located. The bunker now - it was the calm before the storm. “Yes, I’ll be right there!” Cas shouted from down the hall, and the smallest of smiles filled Dean’s face in response to Cas’s voice before sliding off his face and away. “Sam? You’ll be good to stay behind with Jack?” Cas asked, appearing through the doorway. “He’ll be fine, right Sammy? We shouldn’t be too long anway.” Dean said. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry” Sam replied, stretching back in his seat. Jack padded down the hallway from his bedroom to say goodbye, still in his pajamas from a day of lounging around. “Yes! I’m going to go watch the Star Wars prequels again! Have fun on the hunt!” he said, grinning widely. “Well, he’s certainly learned what Dean considers fun.” Sam smirked. “Shut up.” Dean replied before heading to the car, leaving an amused Sam and a laughing Jack. Cas followed right beside them, saying nothing. “I don’t want to hear it.” Dean said, to which Cas replied with a rare snort. Leaning back in the driver’s seat, Dean scanned the music options. “How about Shake It Off?” Cas requested with an all to innocent look. “I’m going to murder Sam.” Dean muttered under his breath before hitting play.

The ride passed mostly in quiet, but not the bad quiet. The bad quiet drowns, suffocates, and consumes. This type of quiet filled the emptiness in the air, but not in a viscerous way. It offered a warm hand on your shoulder, allowing freedom from the clumsiness of words. They finally arrived at the address, a small house located on a road that diverted from the main road and headed into the woods. Opening the door and leaving the car, Dean and Cas popped open the trunk, pulling out their weapons and slamming it shut again. Cas’s eyes lingered on Dean for the briefest of extra moments before flitting away, and Dean turned. Turned and did his best to quell and ignore the warmth that bloomed in his heart at that gaze. All thoughts quickly faded into the eerie battle high. Dean bashed down the door, revealing three vampires. Two male, one female. One guy with black hair and green eyes, the other with brown hair and brown eyes. The girl looked younger by a little, blond and blue eyed. They hissed instantly and rose, revealing the razor fangs they concealed in their mouth. It was a quick dispatch, and soon all three bodies fell to the floor. However, one managed to hiss out “Jack is going to die, and you can’t save him!” before being beheaded. Chuck had infiltrated the minds of most monsters, a snide, backhanded attack on Dean, Sam, Jack, and Cas. Dean extended his hand to Cas to help him rise, the angel having been knocked to the ground during the fight. Cas took it, and lightning zipped between them as Dean helped him rise and then let go, disappearing outside without a word, dropping his sword.

Cas followed, worry etching lines into his face as he saw Dean staring at the sky, his face hidden from view. “Dean, are you o-” Cas asked, before Dean turned to face him. Tears stood on his eyes, a single one slipping down his cheek. Warning bells went off in Cas’s head - Dean Winchester never cried. “Cas, I’m so tired. I’ve been fighting for as long as I can remember, and I can never seem to catch one damn break. Violence, bloodshed, death - that’s my life. There’s no hope in it, no light. And now one of my family is going to die, and I can’t stop it.” Dean roughly rubbed the back of his hand against his face, wiping away the tears threatening to fall. “What is even left?” Dean whispered, his voice breaking. Cas looked at him, emotion cresting inside him like a tsunami. “Dean, there is always something to fight for. I know how you’re feeling - your pain, hurt, and anger. I know. I feel it too But I know you, Dean. You cannot seriously believe fighting isn’t worth it!” Cas’s voice raised, emotion showing through, before he fell quiet again. “Please, Dean. Don’t give up. Don’t give up on me, on Sam, on Jack. You were there for me when I needed it, and I will be forever grateful. Now, I am here to share your burden.” Dean turned away again, and Cas could see he was trembling, shaking from head to toe.

Dean turned, and instantly lost himself in Cas’s eyes. Swallowing hard, Dean replied. “Cas- What did I ever do to deserve you?” before leaning forward and taking a chance. Dean caught Cas in a kiss, wrapping Cas in his arms. It was soft, uncertain, and completely new. Cas softened in his arms, but then Dean broke back. He was scared, a deep fear that he messed up. That he ruined the journey they’d been on together, all the memories and words and laughter they had shared. When Cas met his eyes, Dean saw his own uncertainty reflected there, his own insecurities. Then, the moment shattered into brilliant shades of light and the pair crashed into each other, like a wave finally hitting home. They kissed passionately, but tenderly. Tears fell freely down both of their faces, some mix of happiness and despair. The unused years flew by, years of yearning and quick glances and sacrifice. They gripped each other fiercely, holding on like they would be ripped apart by a hurricane or a blast of wind. Soft whisperings flew between them, utterances of happiness and love and pride and astonishment. Cas pressed kisses to Dean’s freckles, softly smiling that beautiful smile of his that Dean so loved. “It appears that you were once very dearly loved by an angel.” Cas said, hope beginning to fill his eyes. “Yeah well, I wonder who that angel might be…” Dean replied quietly, and Cas knew then he would survive.The two stayed together for hours more, swapping affections and declarations that the other was the light in his life, that he would love him forever, that he would be the reason he kept on fighting.

Cas looked inside himself, realizing the calm, the rightness that quietly lapped at his soul. In all his millenia of years, Cas thought, nothing had ever been like this. He had never felt so completely, with his whole soul. “If I’m ever lost.” Cas thought, pressing another kiss to Dean before leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder, “I can rely on him to be the beacon that guides me home.” Dean swung his arm around Cas, pulling him closer and running his fingers through Cas’s hair, promising himself he wouldn’t ever let go. “I don’t know a lot of things.” Dean thought to himself. “But I know what this is. And I know that it’s real. Real and beautiful and something I will treasure.” That night, the stars, the velvet blackness of the night, and all of the expanse of the sky stared down at them, casting them in a silver starlight glow. The very air seemed to vibrate with joy, for there was certainly enough of it emanating from the two boys sleeping and dreaming, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

[daddystevee]

Crashing Down

(steve harrington x hopper!reader)

Guys, I'm super emotional… this- is the last part to the fic. But more importantly this chapter is what the whole fic was written around. It's insane. Well more so like the very ending of it. But I'm so happy that this happened and I finally wrote my first fic ever. I just can't believe it. Thank you to everyone who read this and continued to support me through this. A special thanks to @harringtown who literally always has my back and was helping me out with this. I think i might write another fic one day but in all honesty who knows. It's freakin hard idk how Brooke spits these suckers out almost every day??? But who knows maybe i'll be more original next time and not have a full fledged slow burn fic.. Anyways love you guys! Xx ps its finally (steve x reader) !!!!

catch up here

Warnings: cursing, death, fluff, angst, super hella sadness, all the good stuff. And season 3 spoilers ig

Part 9/9

Word count: 3.7k (THIS IS INSANE??)

Summary: Sometimes things just don’t go as planned and your world just comes crashing down, but it’s a good thing that you have people in your life to be there to catch you when you fall. 

><

You squirmed out of Steve’s arms and ran to your dad, El limping close behind you pulled him into a big hug. Even though the last time you saw him was a few days ago, now was not the time for full fledged reunions you had to figure out what you guys were going to do to beat this thing.

As everyone was explaining their part of what had been going on over the last couple of days, you took your place under Steve’s arm. You watched as Jim gave Eleven the extra care she needed in that moment, making your lips curl up at the corners. 

“But instead of, like, screws and metal, the Mind Flayer made its weapon with melted people.” Steve said trying to make sense of everything he was being told

“Yeah, and it was fucking terrifying.” you say remembering what happened at the hospital yesterday.

“Yeah, okay I’m just makin’ sure”

><

Hopping up on the counter next to Steve, you watched everyone scramble around trying to make last minute preparations before, Joyce, Murray and your dad headed down into the Russian bunker. You look at Steve’s face and how messed up it is and then look back at your father, hoping nothing too bad would happen to him down there. 

Steve notice how deep in thought you were,

“Don’t hurt yourself, thinking to hard over there Hop.” he said trying to make light of a situation

You laughed slightly, still letting your mind wander in and out of focus.

“You okay?” he asked moving across the counter to be a little closer to you

“Yeah just thinking. A lot of things could go wrong, just nervous I guess.” 

He nods his head in agreement, “But this is your dad we're talking about, he’ll be just fine.”

You overhear Dustin telling Hopper that they need a head start and a car to get to the highest point in Hawkins. He turns and waves Steve over, Steve gives you a pat on the knee before jumping off the counter and heading over to him. After telling Steve what he needed to do, he hollered out your name meaning you were needed. 

Steve met you in the middle causing you to stop, he pulled you into a hug while telling you that he was in charge of taking Dustin and Erica to some radio tower. 

“For the love of God, please be safe. It’s bad enough you’ve already been fucked up by the Russians, I really need you back in one piece.” you say to him pulling him just a little closer

“Oh you don’t have to worry about me, it’s you I'm worried about.”

You took a deep breath in before pulling away. You looked up into Steve’s eyes and placed a hand on his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb before walking over to your dad. 

“I was summoned.” you say marching up to and standing next to your dad

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his side, “I need you to keep a really close eye on El for me, okay?”

“Of course dad.”

“This thing is after her, so you guys are going to Murray’s house, so you guys can stay safe, protected and off the radar until this is all over.”

“Alright.” is all you can muster out before he pulls you into a lung crushing hug.

><

You climb into the backseat of the Wheeler’s family car before Will and Lucas, leaving El, Mike and Max in the very back of the car. Nancy tries cranking the car but the engine just won’t start. Jonathan gets out to look, and says that there's a part missing, and it doesn’t make any sense. But all thoughts are put aside when you hear the sound of a very loud and familiar engine revving up.

“Get out, get out the car now” you say rather loudly nudging at Lucas’s side. 

You all get out of the car and head back into the mall where you would be a little bit safer.

After you get inside Mike instantly pulls out his walkie and starts sending out a code for ‘Scoops Troop’. You're standing next to El with your arm wrapped around her shoulder rubbing up and down her arm in an attempt to keep her calm. 

You see Jonathan, Nancy, Will and Max all walk over to the car that El had flipped over onto the Russian’s earlier that evening. You call Mike and follow in pursuit, climbing over the counter and behind the car to try and flip it over. You even let Eleven try to slip it over with her powers but it’s no use, but suddenly a bell goes off in your head. The same bell apparently goes off in Mike’s head because almost as if you were reading each others minds.

“Physics.” you both say in unison.

You flip the car over with the use of leverage and Jonathan begins his search for the ignition cable. 

Max was the one to notice El digging through the trash, you were the first to walk over to her and Mike was the one to call out to her. You were asking if she was okay and telling her that she needed to save her energy when none other than the Mind Flayer comes crashing down into the mall. 

“Fucking hell..”

You grab hold of Eleven’s hand and pull her away and out of sight. 

The four of you are hidden behind some sort of stand in the middle of the mall when Dustin comes over the walkie talkie telling you all to confirm your safety, but the Mind Flayer wasn’t having any of it. It let out one of the loudest screeches you had ever heard, you hadn’t been that close to it before. Tears formed in your eyes from the pain and from fear.

“We’ve gotta move.” you whisper to Mike

“There’s a way to get out, through The Gap.” El whispers back

Mike peeks his head up to see where the Mind Flayer is and is looking,

“Okay, okay. Now.” he said, grabbing El’s hand making a break for it, but of course not without making some fort of ruckus making the Mind Flayer turn and charge. Luckily you push them behind a clothing display just before it makes it to where the items had fallen,

You put your index finger to your lips signaling for them to be extremely quiet before you covered your mouth with your entire hand, attempting to silence your heave breathing. Looking at the three teens you motioned for them to crawl over behind the checkout counter in case it was just playing games, not wanting to risk anything. Though moving to this new spot didn’t help too much because you heard to your left the nasty sound of what you could only imagine was the flesh moving around.

As you turned and looked to your left you could confirm what you had heard, seeing the flesh like claw coming around the corner to snap at you. There was a loud popping noise, that sounded a lot like a balloon that caused a distraction making the claw retreat now redirecting its attention to the new sound.

“Go, go go.”  you said to the kids and you got up making a mad dash towards the exit.

You run out the back door and towards the gate that allows delivery trucks in and out trying to catch up with Nancy and the others. But as you make it just outside the gate you see Flayed Billy standing behind his car. You make the kids turn around and go back inside the mall in hopes that Billy didn’t see you, but you wouldn't go unnoticed especially since you had to go back and press the close gate button a second time because it didn’t work the first time. 

You run down a few different hallways trying to find another way out, whether that be up or down. So you pulled off into a side room where an elevator was, and mike pressed the button a few times. You really thought you had lost Billy at this point so you were good to take a little breather, until you heard the opening and shutting of a heavy metal door. 

Max was the one to round the corner and see who it was,

“Billy. Billy, you don’t have to do this. Billy. Your name is Billy, Billy Hargrove, you live on 4819 Cherry Lane. Billy please, I’m Max, I’m your-” was all you heard before the monster backhanded her out of consciousness. Mike was the first to lunge at him, but instantly got thrown against the wall and was also knocked unconscious. That left you and El, you take your stand in front of your sister and attempt to throw a punch at him, You successfully hit him in the jaw,

“You’re gonna regret that you little bitch” he says as he grabs you by the arm and twists until you’re facing away from him and he slams your head into the wall, everything goes black

><

You wake up, what seems to be like hours later, seeing both Max and Mike still unconscious on the ground. You sit up, head pounding and your wrist and shoulder in excruciating pain. You crawl over to Max and get her to wake up, and when she does, she yells at Mike to get up.

“Are you guys okay?” you ask them. The both shake their heads, but then begin looking around the small room.

“Where’s El?” Mike asks.

The three of you run around in a panicked state of mind calling out for her hoping she had fucked Billy up and ran for help, but the more you looked the less hopeful you felt. You ran back down what you thought were the same hallways from earlier, but with your new concussion you weren’t so sure anymore. 

You looked down to the ground and saw drops of blood and some sort of black stuff.

“Guys, look.” you say pointing down the hallway where the trail of blood led.

After some time you finally manage to make your way to the main part of the mall. You pulled yourself to a complete stop, sticking your arm out to stop Mike and Max from continuing on any further. El was on the floor talking to Billy. 

You watched with wide eyes as Billy stood up in a protective stance over El. He stood there and stared at his creator, the thing that had destroyed him. Millions of memories flashed before his eyes as the fleshy tentacle that was supposed to kill your sister, shot out towards him. He stuck his arms out to stop it, to sacrifice himself. 

You watched in pure shock as tentacles pierced into his sides and back, grabbing hold of him, hoisting him up. It all happened in slow motion, as if the universe was trying to torture you in some way. You watched as that thing took your Billy Hargrove and pierced into his chest.

“Billy!” you and Max screamed one after another

You choked up a sob as you took off running over to him, Max close behind. You slammed your knees into the ground as you grabbed Billy’s shoulders and shook them trying to keep him awake. 

“Billy, Billy. Stay with me. Billy?”

His eyes fluttered open for a split second, this was the last time that he’d see your beautiful face.

“Hey, hey, hey, I need you to stay with me. Baby I can’t lose you. Please, baby please.”

He somehow managed to get an ‘I’m sorry’ out but you didn’t care he didn’t need to be apologizing right now, but that was the only thing he said before his whole body went limp. You continued to shake his shoulders, in disbelief that this was happening and that if you kept him awake long enough he would be okay.

“Billy, no please, Billy.” it suddenly feels like you can’t breath but the only thing you can do is yell. You’re choking out sobs as you strain your voice yelling out his name. 

Steve makes it down to the second floor as quickly as he can and is behind you in seconds. He puts his hands on your shoulders in an attempt to pull you away and into his arms but you turn and yell at him.

“No! Stop it! Don’t let them touch him! Billy! Billy!” Each phrase is spoken with more sobs. You finally collapse into Steve’s arms, shaking violently with each cry. 

All you can seem to say at this point was Billy’s name. Steve leads you to a paramedic and says that he’ll meet you outside, turning around and running back inside. You along with all of the others are checked over and are cleared to go home after sitting in ambulances for a while.

After Steve is checked, he walks over to you, Max and El and takes a seat next to you. The two are in a very tight hug, your sister is doing her best at comforting Max in this time of loss. You sit in silence, not having enough energy or emotion to talk. Steve wraps his arms around you with his blanket and pulls you into a tight embrace. You mellow out your breathing until you realize that you haven’t seen Murray, Joyce or your dad anywhere.

In a panic you release from Steve’s grip and grab your sister’s hand leading her to stand up. The two of you spend a few minutes looking around for them with no luck, suddenly you spot Joyce. No sign of Hopper, you notice that El see’s her too and looks to you confused as to why dad wasn't with her. But then she realizes, you know it too, dad didn’t make it.

Eleven turns into your arms and lets all of her tears out, and just when you think you don’t have any tears left to cry, all of your tears fall on top of her head. She lets out one scream and that’s it, the rest are sobs. You cradle her head, holding onto her and not letting go.

Both Joyce and Steve offer to take both you and El in for the night, seeing as how the cabin had been destroyed earlier that night and Hop wasn’t there to take you in for some extra loving. Of course you spent the next couple of weeks staying the night at the Byers’ house. But after a while it started to get a little too cramped so while El stayed with Joyce while you stayed with Steve. Most days were the same, super hard and emotional. But other days, you would be taking a few steps forward to recovery. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn't ever going to get easier, but you at least had the right people in your life to help you out.

>3 months later<

Over the last three months things have gotten better, you spent lots of time with Max and Eleven. Making sure that they’re both okay and that they know that they are both very loved. Your dad always told Joyce that if anything were to ever happen to him, that if she was up for it, to take care of El. It wasn’t that he didn't trust you to take care of her, he just knew that it would be a lot for you at such a young age.

Joyce took her in with open arms, and even offered a room to you when she mentioned that they would be moving to Maine. You declined, only because Steve couldn't handle all the kids by himself. Steve’s mom even offered to let you stay in their guest room until you and Steve could get your own place, you had only been talking about it since you were 11. The two of you still planned on doing that, but with being unemployed at the moment it was kinda hard to have money to pay rent.

Today was the final day of packing up the Byers house. You had planned on being there but got pulled into a last minute job interview at Family Video with Robin and Steve. But as soon as you were done there, you were heading over to say your goodbyes. It was a hard day and you were trying not to think about it. 

Good news: the three of you start work on Monday. Bad news: it was time for the Byers to leave.

As you and Steve pulled up it looked like they had just put the last box in the moving truck. You hopped out of the car and jogged up to the door right as Joyce was coming out with a box for you to take home.

“What’s this?” you ask, taking the box from her

“Just a couple of Hop’s things, I thought you'd might want them.”

You sat the box down on the front porch and pulled her in for a hug, “Thank you, for everything. For the stuff and for basically being my mom and for taking El in. It means a lot to me.” A few tears escaped from your eyes.

As everyone was saying their final goodbyes you pulled El in for one final hug. 

“You don’t have to go, you know..” you say in a half joking manner. “you could stay here with me, get our own place or fix up the cabin. He did it before.”

All she does is chuckle lightly and buries her face deeper into your chest.

“I'm really gonna miss you, kid” you say quoting something your dad would say, “but I’ll see you soon. I think we’re all coming up for Thanksgiving next month and then Christmas is right after that.”

“I know” she said quietly, “I love you, Y/N” 

“I love you too El.” you pulled away from the hug and locked pinkies with her and kissed your own hands. Giving each other a small smile before moving on to the others. 

“You have Steve’s number right?” you asked before pulling her into one last hug. She nodded her head as she pulled you closer for one last squeeze before climbing into the passenger seat of the moving truck. You shut the door behind her patted the door and just like that they were gone. The kids all ride their bikes back to their designated homes and you and Steve climbed back into his car to head home too. 

><

As Steve puts his car into park he shifts a little in his seat, you don’t notice because you're looking down at your hands with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I know today’s kind of a hard day for you, but I have something that might make you feel a little bit better.” he says running a hand through his hair.

He reached behind you into the back seat and pulled out a flat velvet box, you give him a curious look,

“Max and I, we talked about this for a really long time and she really wanted you to have this.” he says handing you the box.

You open it and your eyes fill with more tears as your hands drop to your lap and your head hung forward. Inside the box was Billy’s Virgin Mary necklace. It had been polished and shined and cleaned and it looked better than ever. You set the box to the side and you wrap your arms around Steve and give him a hug. After you pull away you pick up the box again and look down at it. 

“I miss him Steve,” you say resting your head on his shoulder.

“I know you do.” he said as he wraps his arm around you 

You sit up and look at him and he's looking back at you with nothing but love in his eyes, you think it’s time you told him.

“Steve there’s something I need to tell you.” your heart is beating so hard you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear it. “These last 3 months have been some of the hardest months of my life, not only because I lost so much but because I’ve realized a lot of things. I learned my self worth, it’s been a while since I’ve truly been happy. And I found that I’m only truly happy when I’m with you. I also know that Billy would’ve wanted me to move on at some point, and as much as he said he hated you Harrington, he wouldn’t want me to be with anyone but you.”

He looked at you like if he blinked everything would fade away and none of this would be real. You reach out and place a hand on his face, looking over where wounds had once been and were now turning into scars. 

“ I love you Steve.” You finally say 

He doesn’t say anything back he just leans in and presses his soft lips against yours. The kiss held so much love and emotion. It felt just like the movies, like the moment when these things always happened. Time seemed to have slowed down, allowing you take it all in and cherish it.

“I’ll take that as the feeling’s mutual?” You say with a giggle. 

Steve brushes his nose against yours before kissing you again, only this time with more force. You took this as his way of saying yes. His mouth hot on yours as his hands grabbed your waist awkwardly from the place he was sitting and pulled you as close as he could. You both only pulled away to catch a breath. 

This would be a moment you would remember for the rest of your life. It wasn’t your first kiss, wasn’t even your second, or hundredth, but it was your first kiss as lovers, but it definitely would not be your last. The world would throw crazy things at you, especially when you aren’t ready for it, but you don’t have to deal with it alone anymore. 

You just always have to know that sometimes things just don’t go as planned and your world might come crashing down and it’ll fall apart, but always remember that you’ll have people in your life to be there to catch you when you fall.

Taglist:

@ughhhitsfan @eleventhdoctorsangel @chloe-skywalker  

[foxtophat]

HEY HEY HEY!!!!  hey guys. haha. um, idk what to say exactly and tumblr likes to eat my posts so lets see how long this lasts:

its’ only been a couple months but i have been frothing at the mouth trying to figure out what next part of mercy to put out. i have a lot of much bigger stories to tell than this one, but kim and john sharing insomnia felt sort of like the right segue into those bigger bits.  so for now, let’s just enjoy a 20k fic about Kim and John, and also a little about John and Nick, but mostly just about John and Jacob.

there are 3 chapters. i’ll post the 2nd one later this week (wednesday or friday i think) and the third will probably go up next monday.  YEAH THAT’S RIGHT i actually have most of this one finished right out the gate!!!

as usual, i’ll put the entire chapter under a readmore in case you don’t want to leave tumblr.  i hope you enjoy what i’ve got for you this time -- if not don’t worry, there will be more dramatic bullshit later :)  comments, kudos, reblogs and likes are all the things that make ficwriting more fun than it already is, so consider helping me out if you enjoy what i’m doing. otherwise, have a good day!!!

Kim's dreams are normally composed of fleeting images in dark, monochrome colors. They're howling-wind nightmares or ethereal moments of peace, but they're short-lived and she's always disconnected from them. She hasn't had a real dream in probably nine years. She used to miss them, before John Seed reappeared with all of his night terrors, just in time to remind her of how good she has it. Now, she's glad that the most she has to contest with is a looming sense of dread that fades almost as soon as she wakes up.

But tonight, Kim is a long way away from all of that. She's standing at the kitchen sink in her childhood home, which is in full summer swing. The rosemary plant her mom keeps on the sill is in full bloom, thick green spikes dotted with blue puffball flowers. Beyond it, the Canadian sky is seawater green, and Kim marvels at the fluffy clouds drifting through the unnatural color. They seem to be floating by much faster than the still air outside would imply. It should rattle her, confuse her, but before that realization sinks in, her mom's voice distracts her away.

"Do you really think he's the one?" she asks, as skeptically as she had all those years ago when Kim first decided to move to Montana. Her mother had liked Nick, of course, because he was a likable guy, but Kim had known from the start that her parents were worried about her. They'd worried about her moving to a red state, about her trusting a man she'd seen a handful of times since they'd met. They hadn't understood the idea of purple pockets or internet dating, and while they supported Kim's love of rifle showmanship, they'd never trusted Nick owning more than three guns.

"What's the point, is all I'm asking," Kim's mom laughs in response to Kim's unspoken comment. "It seems strange to collect weapons..."

"Mom, he hunts !" she chides. "And anyway, he isn't the worst one out there."

"That's exactly what I worry about," her mom says. "What if something bad were to happen? His family is gone, and we'll be so far away..."

Kim sighs, the words stinging more than they should. The aqua colored sky begins to churn outside, the light filtering through a strange red haze. Inside, the sunlight reflects off the white counters, nearly blinding Kim.

"I'll be okay," she says, reciting an amalgamation of all her old defenses as her eyes readjust. "There are a lot of good people out there. They rely on each other a whole lot more than we do here."

"I worry about you, Kimiko. That's all." Her mother sighs sadly. "You'll understand when you have kids of your own."

"But mom..."

Kim tries to tell her that she already has a kid, but she can't muster up the words. After all, shouldn't she know? Wouldn't Kim have visited? Wouldn't she have brought Carmina into this very kitchen, all the surfaces glowing with light, and introduced them? Wouldn't her mom have been there when Carmina was born?

"It's unseasonably warm, isn't it," her dad remarks at the table. He's sitting there with a magazine as if he'd been there the whole time. He, like the rest of the room, glows from the inside, as though a flashlight were shining through his skin. It shines through the wood of the table, through her mom's curious smile, until Kim has to turn her face away. The room grows hotter and hotter, and in the far-off whistling wind she hears the first lonesome wail of an air-raid siren beginning to pick up. There's a blinding burst of light and howling wind, and Kim lifts her hands to her face, desperate not to look directly at the blast —

The bedroom is dark, warm and humid. At first, Kim doesn't know where she is, struggling to sit up, desperate to run, until all at once reality comes crashing back into focus. It doesn't help that she's pinned beneath Nick's arm and Carmina's full dead-sleeping weight.

Normally, moving would be out of the question. But Kim doesn't want this dream clinging to her memory, and she desperately wants to put some space between her and the nuclear glow of her mother's smile. Hell, maybe it isn't the dream at all — maybe it's the heat that's making lying here unbearable. Maybe it's the extra weight pinning her down, or a panic attack waiting in the wings — whatever it is, she needs to get up and run from it. As she worms her way out from underneath her family, Kim can feel the pressure building behind her eyes, fueled by the need to jog out the tension that will soon become unbearable. She needs to exercise the nightmare away before it sticks around and ruins the rest of her night.

It's probably already too late for that. The back of Kim's eyes are itchy with tears as she struggles to get free. She's already memorized her mom's smile, trapped forever in radioactive amber, and that alone is enough trauma to fuel ten more terrible dreams.

Nick and Carmina remain peacefully asleep, even as Kim extracts herself from the bed. That's good — the last thing she needs to do is worry Nick, whose own sleeping habits have just started to even out. He'll try to keep her company, and they'll just wind up keeping each other up, which wasn't ideal back in the day and definitely isn't ideal now .

Even though Carmina sleeps like the dead and Nick isn't likely to hear her, Kim is careful to watch out for the creakiest steps as she heads downstairs. Sunrise isn't for a few hours yet, but Kim isn't going to let that stop her from insomnia-pacing around her own home. It used to be that Kim would jog laps on the runway to clear her head, but that isn't going to work nowadays. She still wants to, of course; she's desperate to step out into the relatively cool night air and run herself ragged enough to pass out again, but that's out of the question. She's not about to break her own rule.

It's only once Kim is downstairs that she starts to relax, lighting one of the candles left out on the table. The light is just barely enough to see by, and Kim struggles to find something to clean up or organize in the half-dark. All of the coping mechanisms that got her through eight years of bunker living have fallen flat in the face of the apocalypse, but that doesn't keep her from trying them over and over again. Some techniques are more adaptable, but it isn't like she can dig into reorganizing the hangar for Nick at... whatever time it is now. Not without somebody catching her breaking her own rules about going outside alone.

If she had any books worth reading, she could throw herself into that, but she can't bear the manuals and children's books right now. Maybe if there was a radio station she could listen to... but no, she wouldn't want to risk burning out the radio after everything Nick and John went through to fix it. There's not going to be another Hail Mary when it comes to that kind of repair.

Her mom would probably use this time to make a series of endless lists. Grocery lists, to-do lists, lists of pros and cons for buying new appliances or inviting Kim's awful step-grandmother to her wedding... there was nothing that her mom couldn't organize into a column of bullet points or check-boxes. Kim could probably do with a few lists herself, but where is she supposed to get the paper? And even if a supply list wouldn't be a waste of resources, where would she go to fill it? It's going to be a while before they can pick up flour from the farmer's market again, that's for sure.

Well, at least wasting some paper will keep her mind busy. There's too much stuff they need, and she's going to drive herself crazy trying to remember all of it. Anyway, they've been using decades-old junk mail to prop up the radio desk — it can't be wasted if it was already trash, right?

She's careful in her search for a decent piece of mail, not wanting to tip the radio over as she jimmies a yellowed envelope from under the desk. It's only once she's back at the table with a worn-down nub of a pencil that she finds herself hesitating. After all, what is she supposed to write? What could they reasonably expect to get out here, with no supply chain to rely on? Everything that comes to mind is laughably improbable at best.

It doesn't really matter, though, does it? They're probably not going to be able to find anything besides what they can hunt and grow for themselves, so any food she writes down will be wishful thinking. John had offered to help their scavenging efforts, but it isn't likely they'll find working walkie-talkies or a new car. People who have been above ground longer than the Ryes have already taken over key resource points, and they'll be hard-pressed to give up things without a fair trade. And until they can reliably communicate with one another, trading is going to be nearly impossible. One day, maybe, they'll have trading posts and reliable supply chains, but like other pieces of their fractured society, that's not coming for a long time yet.

Staring at a blank piece of paper is worse than writing something stupid down, and so Kim quickly scribbles the word flour across the top of the envelope. She can't imagine that's going to be a reasonable expectation for a while, but at least it's on paper — and it's outlandish enough that it encourages her to continue, her thoughts darting between impossible dreams and honest reality. Salt , she thinks might not be quite as hard to find. Sugar, probably impossible. For now, they can hope for honey instead.

It goes on like that, growing more abstract as Kim lets herself dream. Milk, eggs, bread, twinkies , meat grinder, hamburgers, tomatoes, grains (seeds), grill (charcoal), gas, gas canisters (storage), duct tape, insulation foam (spray, sheet), toilet cleaner, toilet, hot water, plumbing, bathtub! , tarp, doors, ammunition, floodlights, security system, cans + string (security) —

Her flow is interrupted by a soft, distant thud somewhere upstairs. Kim listens for a few tense seconds, waiting to hear boots on the roof, the hiss of a walkie-talkie, or the slide-click of a gun being cocked. Without the cult, those fears go unrealized, and Kim slumps tiredly into her seat. She's just as paranoid about armed cultists tonight as she is about wild animals, although she's sure that's just her nightmare talking. Eden's Gate is nowhere near the threat it used to be.

The relief is short-lived, as is her solitude, when she hears an upstairs door click shut, followed by the sound of quick footsteps on the landing. The house is too old for any real attempt at stealth, but John tries to avoid the worst offending stairs on his way down. He only realizes Kim is there when he notices the candlelight, coming to an abrupt stop on the last step, one hand clutching the banister tight.

He's sweaty and out of sorts as he wipes his limp hair out of his face. "Oh," he rasps. "Kim."

He's surprised to see her. Kim should be surprised, too — it's one thing to know that John wanders the house at night, but it's another to see it happen in real-time. Honestly, she's barely phased by his appearance. John's sleep schedule has been bunker-erratic ever since Nick brought him home, and no amount of diurnal activity has managed to change it. If anything, Kim suspects he gets less sleep now than he did underground. It isn't for lack of trying, she's sure, but this isn't the first time she's heard him stumbling around in the dark. It's just the first time she's been in the same boat.

"Late night?" she asks.

John struggles once more with the hair in his eyes before giving up. "Just needed some air," he rasps, minding his volume. "Some water."

"Don't mind me," she replies, surprising herself with her own ambivalence. Knowing he moves around while they're sleeping is one thing, but seeing it should be upsetting. It should bother her when he avoids creaky floorboards on his way to help himself to their fresh water. It should make her angry to see him using their resources; at the very least, it should have upset her back when it began normalizing. But, honestly, it hadn't. Kim had just been relieved to see John acting like a person, and not just a haunted shell.

John wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, regarding Kim with deep uncertainty that Kim mostly makes out from his hunched shoulders and tense posture. He tries to hide just how lost he is, but Kim never misses it when he slips. It's not that she's sympathetic towards him, exactly, but she knows just enough about his history to want to pity him.

He doesn't speak, not even after the silence stretches out. Maybe he's waiting for her to make the first move?

The thought almost makes her laugh, but she still cuts him some slack. "Can't sleep either, huh?" she asks.

"Hardly ever," John replies, although he clearly isn't looking for reassurance. He takes a step away from the kitchen, hovering in the nebulous space between the table and the stairs. He's usually quick to leave Kim alone — quicker than he is with Nick, anyway — and so she appreciates the fact that he doesn't run now.

His voice cracks on its low pitch as he haltingly asks, "What are you doing?"

For just a second, Kim imagines giving John the cold shoulder and telling him it's none of his business. But the thought fades as quickly as it comes; it's replaced by the knowledge that John is just as dependent on the family's supplies as she is. Anything she needs, he'll also need. And besides, she's almost positive he'd been in control of the cult's supplies, which means he might have an idea of what they should realistically be looking for. He would know what the cult had planned to do, and she could probably translate that into useful advice.

"Just making a list," she sighs. It sounds stupid enough to make her wince, and she concedes with a joke, "You know, for the next time we're at Wal-Mart."

John huffs in amusement and approaches the table. Now that she's got an audience, Kim wants nothing more to do with the list, and so she pushes towards him before slumping back into her chair. Instead of the quick, distracted glance she had been expecting, John leans over to read it in full. The longer he reads, the more embarrassed Kim is of her late-night daydreaming, but he finishes with the list before she can grab it back.

"Some of these are... more manageable than others," he says, using the same kind of diplomacy he utilizes whenever Nick makes a particularly dumb comment.

"Uh, yeah ," she says, embarrassed even if she isn't surprised. "I know. It was just... taking up space in my head. I needed to write it down, otherwise, I'm going to be up all night."

Kim runs her hand through her hair, waiting for John to retreat as quickly as he'd arrived. Instead, John rereads the list once more. Kim can see his amusement much more plainly as he leans into the candlelight. It highlights the deep bags under his eyes as well, but who isn't carrying that particular mark of exhaustion these days?

"Ammunition isn't as high on the list as I'd imagined," he comments.

"We're okay on bullets for now," she replies. "And it's not like there's much to spare."

Whether or not that satisfies John, Kim isn't sure. He only hums in response, eyes roaming down the paper.

"I see you didn't bother to add more guns."

"We don't need more guns," Kim insists, although it's not strictly true. She's just hesitant to overwhelm the house with firearms. They've been getting on just fine with what they have — any more, and they might turn into a target themselves. One day, sure, they'll need to find something for Carmina to carry on her own, but that day is a long, long way away.

She doesn't need to explain herself to anyone, let alone John Seed, but as he watches her and waits for more, she feels compelled to justify herself. "I don't think we're going to find spare guns or ammunition just lying around, and I'm not about to take them by force. We've managed just fine with what we have."

"For now," John points out. "Things could change. It won't stay this calm forever."

"Why not?" Kim retorts, feeling childish and petulant as soon as the words leave her mouth. "Why do you even care? You're certainly not getting armed."

John clicks his tongue against his teeth. "It's not that," he says, only to abruptly roll over with a muttered, "Never mind."

If John thinks he can avoid the conversation that easily, he has another thing coming. "No, what is it?" she asks.

"It's nothing," he sighs, as if arrogantly dismissing her will keep Kim from pushing. When Kim only frowns unhappily back at him, he reluctantly relents. "Joseph had said taking your weapons was the only way we could ensure you wouldn't use them after the Collapse. And if we didn't lock them away, it would be all you would look for." He stares at the list, although Kim imagines his thoughts are about fifty miles away. "It's stunning how wrong he was about everything. But there are reminders everywhere."

John rarely speaks about Joseph; Kim hasn't heard him broach the subject of his own volition before. The only person who ever talks to him about his brother is Jerome, and those conversations are private and short. Having John bring him up with almost no needling feels like a step forward, even if it's only a small one. Even though John is anxious saying Joseph's name.

It's so easy to forget how much control Joseph had over John. Kim has to make a concentrated effort now and again to remind herself that Joseph hadn't only brainwashed normal, desperate people, but his own family. She can't imagine doing anything to Carmina or Nick that would turn them into the angry, anxious mess John had been even before the Collapse. Not even if it meant they would always do what they were told and would trust her implicitly. She couldn't bear it if Nick ever talked about her the way John talks about Joseph. It's late enough that Kim finds herself wondering how Joseph can even sleep at night.

"It's stupid," John says, taking Kim's contemplative silence as disapproval. "I should have known better."

He inhales, letting out a shaky breath, and closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they're suspiciously shiny in the candlelight. It sparks a genuine pang of sympathy in Kim, but there's nothing she can say or do to help him. Nothing she's done so far has made an impact.

"Some of this is reasonable enough," John says, desperately trying to redirect the conversation back to the list. It's an obvious, flat-footed attempt to avoid a tender spot in his psyche, but Kim is willing to let it slide.

"Sure, eventually . But we're a long way off from hot baths and backyard barbecues, much less flour and sugar."

"Those are... less reasonable," he admits, dragging his finger across one of the harder to come by items. Still, he isn't nearly as deterred as she is. "But not everything is impossible to come by. Insulation, for one. Tarp, duct tape. Components like that should be easy enough to find." He taps his finger against the envelope. "And there still places to investigate. Root cellars nobody bothered to touch. Caches you never found. Things hidden in places you wouldn't know to look, especially if you weren't in the Project."

Frowning, Kim rereads a few of the items upside-down from her side of the table. "It's been almost nine years," Kim points out, reluctant to get her hopes up so easily. "Isn't it more likely that everything good has already been discovered?"

Still... John's mentioned secret Eden's Gate supplies before. Given the size of the project and how long they were operating in the county, it's not impossible that some of their hidden stashes haven't been found yet. And they were planning for the apocalypse, right? They'd likely have saved things that could last for a long time. John isn't wrong — more ammunition and more weapons would be helpful. At the very least, they could help arm other survivors.

"It wouldn't hurt to have a look, I guess," Kim relents after thinking it over. "How good is your memory?"

That earns her a rare, quiet chuckle from John. "Middling to poor," he admits, "Although if I had a map, it would help. It would make it easier to mark what I remember."

"To think, it only took nine years and an apocalypse for you to finally hand over the intel."

John huffs, but his response is only mildly offended. "Do you want what I have to offer, or not?"

"Don't be like that," Kim says, placating him with a smile. "It would be a big help. It'll help me sleep better, anyway."

It seems there's more on John's mind than Kim teasing him, since he takes the non-apology and moves on without a fight. "Jacob had caches buried for after the Reaping," he says. "They'll most likely be weapons, but he was... hard to read. It could be that he stored survival equipment in one. There were a few in the valley, but most of them would be in the mountains."

Kim shakes her head at that. "As far as I've heard, nobody's made it very far north. And the stories I have heard aren't good. The dam broke, so a lot of the area is flooded, and supposedly the radiation is still pretty bad."

John hums briefly as he considers the facts. He leans contemplatively over the list, and for a moment Kim wonders if this was a common occurrence for him before the Collapse. How many late nights did he spend bent over a map while his brothers watched and waited for his decisions? She has to suspect it was a lot, because this is the first time she's seen John look even remotely confident.

That confidence is clear in his voice as he remarks defiantly, "I suppose the valley will do until we get airborne again. Let flooding stop us then ."

"Oh, okay," Kim laughs, checking her volume before she lets her amusement wake up the rest of her family. "You are just like Nick. Neither of you are going to give up until you get back in the sky, huh?"

"Exactly," John replies. "I won't trust anybody else to do it. Realistically, a helicopter would be the best option..."

"Oh, right," Kim chuckles. " Realistically ."

John taps accusingly at the list and raises an eyebrow at her. "Less realistic than hot water and iodized table salt?"

If Kim didn't know better, she might think that John is actually teasing her. He normally saves that kind of attitude for Nick, who prefers arguing through and around problems. Kim, on the other hand, rarely has the energy to deal with avoidance tactics, and so she tends to demand his sincerity. Thankfully, the liminal time of just-about-three has softened her stance on the matter.

"Okay," she relents with a smile. "Sure. Might as well add helicopters to the list." It would be a pretty big get for them, all things considered. And anyway, John's right — Kim wouldn't trust flying in a plane jury-rigged together by anyone other than Nick.

But that's a resource that will come in the nebulous future, and Kim's too realistic to worry years in advance right now. There are more pressing concerns to deal with, first — like food, water and security. Any caches John can find will at least fulfill one of those priorities, although Kim can't imagine the cult storing anything other than ammunition and weapons. But even if the caches don't pan out, they might find valuable scrap, like logs for firewood, furniture they can re-purpose, or even old survivalist caches that nobody thought to dig up after the world ended. And now that there are four of them, Kim won't feel so uncomfortable when Nick wants to drive to the middle of nowhere looking for supplies.

Kim sighs with relief, feeling a weight roll off her back that she hadn't been trying to remove. "Things will be a lot easier if you can help us with supplies. And I'll feel better about Nick going out if he has somebody to watch his back."

John pulls the same face he usually makes when someone implies they trust him. Kim could ignore it — after all, John doesn't need to believe they trust them for it to be true. Too bad for him, it's too late at night for her to turn a blind eye. "Oh, get over it," she tells him, unable to help a lopsided smile at his offended scowl. "I seriously doubt you're planning on murdering us at this point. And I know Nick is smart enough to knock the crap out of you if he thinks you've changed your mind."

"I won't," John immediately replies.

Kim believes him, if only because there's nobody left for John to rely on other than them. "Good. Because if I can trust you, that means I won't worry about Nick when he decides to go farther than town. It means we can spend more meaningful time with Carmina, too. Anyway, Nick likes bossing you around, and you like being bossed around, so everybody wins."

John ducks his head, embarrassed, but Kim laughs to let him know she's only teasing. "Seriously," she says, relenting for his benefit, "It does help. It's good to have somebody else to rely on."

"I... want to be helpful," John replies, although Kim suspects that he might be confusing his wants and needs again. It's not quite a compulsion anymore, but even John's most heated attempts to argue about a job end with him rolling over quick. He hasn't outright refused to do something, and Kim doesn't think he ever will, if only to prove to himself one more time that he might actually be capable of change.

It might get annoying one day, but for now, Kim can respect his intense desire to make amends. She just wishes he would accept some form of gratitude or praise in return, to make it less awkward on her end.

Kim rests her hands momentarily on the tabletop, tapping her fingers briefly against the wood. "Okay," she softly declares, "I think I'm going to try to get back to sleep." Whatever she winds up dreaming about now, she's pretty sure it won't be the same awful nightmare again — and that's at least partially because of John's intervention. She figures it's worth telling him as much. "You made a pretty good distraction, so thanks."

He nods immediately in response. "Of course," he replies, momentarily bewildered as he checks Kim's expression for signs of sarcasm or annoyance. His posture relaxes as Kim stands, although Kim imagines his relief is temporary. He's pretty good at working himself up into anxious frenzies — staying out of them is another matter entirely.

"Try to get some sleep yourself, okay?" Kim suggests.

There's no way John means it when he says, "I will," but at least he's willing to placate her instead of getting mad at her being concerned in the first place.

"And try not to wake up Carmina."

John nods affirmatively. Kim's positive that he'll sneak outside once she's gone upstairs, but at least he's waiting patiently for her to leave. If it weren't for her returning exhaustion, Kim might've used him as an excuse to do her own late-night workout, but it'll have to do to merely turn a blind eye to him edging around her rule about going out after dark alone. Kim and Nick have both been woken up by the exterior doors, but John never goes beyond the planters out back, and he always closes up when he comes back in. Kim could call him out on it, but... well, it seems like he needs the freedom.

Kim says goodnight and is mildly surprised when John returns it without any lingering sarcasm. He must be pretty tired, but that's not really a surprise. Hopefully, he'll try to take some of her concern to heart, or at least pretend for her sake.

Although Carmina is definitely still asleep when Kim returns to the bedroom, Nick is watching her with bleary-eyed curiosity. He waits until she's closed the door to speak up, and even then it's a dull, quiet whisper.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

He doesn't mind waiting for Kim to creep back to bed before she answers. "It is," she tells him, gratefully crawling into bed as he opens his arms for her. He folds his arms over her shoulders, letting her wiggle into a comfortable spot before she explains in a whisper. "I needed to move around, and John came downstairs. That's all."

"Hope he wasn't a creep," Nick mumbles into her hair. Kim sighs laughingly into his collarbone, which is already sticking to her cheek with sweat. There's no way she's going to be wrapped up in Nick's arms all night, not when it's this hot, but she'll appreciate it while she's got it.

"Not yet," Kim says. "Just talking about supplies." She presses a kiss to Nick's shoulder and whispers, "We'll talk about it in the morning."

Nick hums happily into Kim's hair. "Sounds good to me," he mumbles. The less they talk about John Seed, the better, after all. Especially right now, when they're tangled up in bed with their daughter snoring next to them; there's no room for serious conversation, and there's absolutely no room for John. There's no space for the nightmares that woke her, either; as Kim falls asleep, Nick's hand tangled up in her hair, she thankfully forgets everything save for a warm, melancholy amber glow.

[prouvaireafterdark]

The Kids Aren’t Alright

This one goes out to my lovely followers 😘You guys asked for some Michael Sanders AU Hurt/Comfort, so here’s Walt being a supportive dad to Michael after the events of Honey, If You Stay 💜 

P.S. A lot of the fics in this AU can more or less stand alone, but I think you’ll get more out of this one if you read Caught in the Moment and then Honey, If You Stay. The references will just make a lot more sense

Also on AO3!

***

After watching Michael push his food around with his fork all through dinner, Walt isn’t exactly surprised to hear two soft knocks on his bedroom door later that night.

“Come on in,” Walt calls once he’s shuffled the bills littering his bedspread into a haphazard pile in front of him.

The door creaks open and he looks up to see Michael pausing at the threshold, wearing a worn t-shirt and a soft pair of green flannel pajama bottoms. He’s practically a grown man now, but the sight of him standing there reminds Walt of that first year after he adopted him, before Michael had really let it sink in that this was his home now. He was always so cautious then, unsure of where his boundaries were and afraid that one wrong move would land him back at the group home. It makes Walt frown to see him looking like that again.

“You alright?” Walt asks.

Michael hesitates as his eyes flicker from Walt’s face to the stack of papers in front of him.

“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing up a little straighter. “You’re busy, I’ll just—”

“Michael,” Walt stops him, shaking his head. He moves the pile of bills to his cluttered nightstand and pats the empty space on the bed beside him with his palm. “Sit down.”

Michael walks into the room and climbs onto Walt’s bed, stealing a pillow to hold while he sits cross-legged facing him.

Walt gives him a moment to get his bearings before he asks, “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“It’s Alex,” Michael admits after a minute, eyes fixed where he’s plucking idly at a loose thread hanging from the seam of the pillowcase.

Walt figured as much. It takes a lot to rattle Michael and there’s no one else besides those Evans twins he’d be so out of sorts over.

“You two have a fight?” Walt guesses.

“No,” Michael answers quickly, lifting his eyes to look at him. Walt can see the gears turning in his head as he pauses to think about it another second before he adds, “Well, maybe.”

“You want to talk about it?” he asks when Michael doesn’t elaborate.

Michael eyes him skeptically and, well, Walt supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. Since he entered his teens, they haven’t really talked as much as they used to when Michael was little, after he outgrew his quiet phase and would practically burst at the opportunity to tell Walt all about the new things he learned at school that day, never mind what everyone else was doing. Lately, Walt’s been falling back on what’s become his trademark brand of family bonding, which usually involves a lot more motor oil and “dad music” crackling through his old radio than emotional heart-to-hearts. But Michael’s hurting right now, that much Walt can see plain as day, and he isn’t just gonna sit here and let Michael suffer while he pretends nothing’s wrong. He’ll turn a blind eye to a lot of things, but not that.

Walt sighs and levels Michael with a look. “C’mon, kid. I’m trying here.”

Michael seems to think about it for a moment before he shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he assures him with a tight smile. Walt doesn’t believe him for a second, but before he can call him on his bullshit, Michael adds, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Well, alright then,” Walt says, waving him on. “Go ahead.”

Michael nods and takes a deep breath like he’s psyching himself up for something. Walt waits patiently while Michael finds the words he’s looking for.

“Would it… would it be okay if Alex spent the night sometimes?” Michael asks, and Walt can’t help but huff a laugh at that question.

“You telling me he doesn’t already?” he asks, his eyebrows raised incredulously. He knows he’s seen Michael wake up with bruises on his neck he didn’t go to sleep with and he thanks God every day they don’t share a bedroom wall.

“I—what?” Michael asks, his eyes wide with shock, cheeks flushing a guilty pink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies, and Walt has to fight not to roll his eye. His boy really is a terrible liar.

“You’re not as slick as you think you are, kid,” Walt says simply.

Michael looks at a loss for words for once, which would be amusing if Walt didn’t also clock the way he swallows tensely and curls himself around the pillow a little more. It’s then that Walt remembers what Michael had done when he’d walked in on him with Alex that first time.

“Are you mad?” he’d asked, eyes guarded and cautious.

The question had taken Walt by surprise. He’s never been a prejudiced man, nor has he ever to his own recollection said anything that would make Michael think that he was. All he’s ever wanted for Michael is for him to be safe and to find the love and happiness his mother crossed galaxies to provide for him. That he’s found those things with a young man rather than a young woman never even registered as something for Walt to be concerned about—Michael being bisexual doesn’t change how much Walt loves him or what he would do to protect him, and, to be honest, when your son is a telekinetic alien refugee, who he’s sleeping with is the goddamn least of your worries. At the end of the day, Walt is just happy Michael can experience life as a normal teenaged boy and isn’t being experimented on in some top secret military bunker.

But as he’d sat idly in front of the TV that night after bringing Alex home, thinking over the conversations he’d had with them, Walt realized something important.

To Michael, sexuality does matter. It matters to Alex too, and Walt would bet the stack of emergency cash he’s got hidden under his mattress that it also matters to Alex’s father. It’s an important part of Michael, one that will inevitably and unfairly shape how some people see him, how they treat him, and it makes Walt feel like he’s swallowed a lead weight to think that Michael ever lived in fear of him finding out about it, that he thought, even for a second, that it would make him any less worthy of love in Walt’s eyes.

And looking at Michael now, watching him shrink in on himself a little at having been caught sneaking his boyfriend in for a sleepover instead of awkwardly laughing it off like he has every other time Walt’s caught him doing stupid teenage shit, makes Walt wonder if maybe he wasn’t as clear as he thought he was that night. If maybe there’s still a part of Michael that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You know I ain’t mad at you, right?” Walt says, determined to make sure Michael understands here and now that he isn’t and never will be. “You’re eighteen next month. Way I see it, what you do in your bedroom is your business, long as you’re safe and quiet about it.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Michael whines suddenly, sounding utterly mortified as he shoves his face into the pillow.

His reaction brings Walt up short. “What do you mean ‘stop’? You brought it up, didn’t you?” he defends himself.

“That’s not—“ Michael starts, voice muffled, before he looks up at him again, his face flushed even more, and says, “I meant to sleep, Dad, Jesus Christ. I just need to know if I can tell him it’s okay for him to crash here sometimes.”

Walt stares at him a moment, unable to shake the feeling that he’s missing something important here. Michael looks back at him with wide, desperate eyes and he knows he’s right.

“What’s this really about, Michael?” Walt asks.

Michael’s gaze shifts to his hands as he idly picks at his cuticles.

“I told you already,” Michael insists.

“No, you didn’t,” he says patiently. “Why does Alex need a place to crash?”

Michael lets out a weary sigh, and when he looks up again Walt can see he’s holding back tears.

”Things are, um,” he starts, pausing to swallow down the emotion building in his throat, “really hard for him at home right now,” Michael confesses at last. “Or maybe they always have been, I don’t know. There’s a lot he hasn’t told me and I don’t want to push him too hard.”

Walt recalls the fear in Alex’s eyes when he came home that day and caught Michael kissing him on the living room floor, how tense he was on the ride back to his house afterward when it was just the two of them in his truck. He makes an educated guess. “His father?”

“Yeah,” Michael confirms softly.

One look at the haunted expression on Michael’s face and suddenly all those little things Walt has noticed about Alex over the last few months start to make a horrible kind of sense.

“Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Walt asks.

“Alex didn’t want me to tell you unless I had to,” Michael sighs.

Walt nods in understanding. Michael’s a lot of things, but a snitch ain’t one of them.

“I’m worried about him, Dad,” Michael continues a moment later. “I just—I want him to have somewhere he can go when things get bad with his dad and I was hoping it could be here, with us. Not, like, permanently or anything, just—you know. If he needs it. When he needs it.”

Walt doesn’t need long to think about it. He knows a thing or two about running away from a broken home, and offering shelter to the sweet, polite kid who’s never treated his son with anything other than love and respect isn’t exactly a hard sell. This arrangement won’t fix everything for Alex, not by a long shot, but it’s a start.

“Well, you’ll hear no argument about it from me,” Walt tells him.

Michael perks up at that, hope shining in his eyes. “Is that a yes? He can stay the night sometimes?”

“Of course he can, Michael,” Walt answers easily. “He’s welcome to stay as long as he needs.”

Walt can see the line of Michael’s shoulders relax as the burden he’s been carrying around with him all day all but disappears.

“Thank you,” he sighs, his eyes closing in relief, as if the stress of the situation was the only thing keeping him awake.

Walt watches him a second before he makes up his mind.

“Come here,” he says, beckoning him closer when an outstretched arm.

Michael opens his eyes and does as he’s told, ditching the pillow in favor of letting Walt pull him into his arms. He squeezes Michael tight and drops a single kiss to the crown of his head. Wild curls tickle his nose when he does, but Walt doesn’t mind. It’s the longest hug they’ve shared in ages, and even though he initiated it for Michael’s benefit, Walt finds his son’s not the only one who needed it.

“Hey, how long have you known about this?” Walt asks curiously when Michael pulls away.

“I didn’t know for sure until last night,” Michael admits. “He, um, came over to see me after you went to bed and we talked.”

“Hm,” Walt hums thoughtfully. “Shame he didn’t tell you a few days sooner.”

“Why?” Michael asks.

“His old man came by the shop looking to get his oil changed the other day,” Walt explains. “I would’ve overcharged him more if I’d known he’s been giving Alex grief like that.”

Michael’s face looks frozen in shock for a moment before he laughs, a sharp, delighted sound that warms Walt’s heart to hear.

“Wait—“ Michael says suddenly, the full implications of Walt’s confession hitting him belatedly. “More? As in you already overcharge him?”

“Oh yeah,” Walt confirms shamelessly, leaning back against his headboard. “I’ve been upcharging that son of a bitch for years.”

“Why?” Michael asks, scandalized excitement brightening his eyes.

“He’s a prick,” Walt shrugs. “I need a reason other than that?”

Michael laughs again, shaking his head.

“Absolutely not,” he says emphatically. “God, I can’t wait to tell Alex. He’s gonna love this.”

Walt sighs, beginning to regret his decision to tell Michael that already.

“Well, make sure it stays between you two,” he warns the boy. “It’d be bad for business if it got out, even if the town oughta give me a medal for it and thank me for my service.”

“Please,” Michael laughs. “Like Alex is gonna tell anyone anything that would stop his dad from getting screwed.”

“Fair enough,” Walt concedes. He peeks over at the alarm clock on his nightstand and has to do a double take at the time. “Jesus, you oughta get to bed, kid. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Ugh, fine,” Michael says, though his indignation is severely undercut by the exhausted yawn he lets out immediately after. He climbs out of Walt’s bed and stretches before heading for the door.

“See you in the morning,” Walt calls after him.

“Mhmm,” Michael hums sleepily.

Walt glances at the pile of bills on his nightstand, but his heart pulls his gaze back in Michael’s direction. There’s something else that needs saying before he goes off to bed.

“Hey, one more thing before you go,” he says before Michael can get too far.

Michael stops in the doorway, leaning back against the jamb when he turns around to show he’s listening.

“I love you,” Walt says earnestly. “I know I don’t tell you near as often as you should hear it, but I do.”

The smile that graces Michael’s face in response is small and heartfelt, a private thing that Walt commits to memory.

“I love you too, Dad,” he says, and he lingers at the threshold a moment longer before he pushes off the doorframe and finally says, “Goodnight.”

[thran-duils]

Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 6)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 6) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,900 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence

Author’s Note: Sorry if you guys clicked on this about 5 mins ago and it disappeared. I realized I forgot half a page I had written. lmao

Chap 5 || Chap 7 || Masterpost  || Fanfic masterpost

The rain pattered the window next to the booth, your mind following the pattern of the sound. Although the sugar had long since dissolved, you still swirled your spoon slowly, lost in your thoughts.

Sam cleared his throat next to you and you got the hint it was not the first time he had done it based off the look that him and Dean were giving you when you looked up at them.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, placing the spoon down on the napkin next to your cup assuming the sound was getting to them.

“No, are you okay?” Sam asked quietly. “You haven’t said a word.”

You shook your head, “No.”

It had been days since Castiel had murdered those restaurant workers. And had somehow found you once again. You did not feel secure anywhere. Even the bunker.

They were waiting for you to elaborate.

“I don’t know what to think. He doesn’t seem like he wants to harm me. But you never know with crazy people. I could lose my charm or whatever he says he likes. Or I could refuse him too many times and he has one of those cliché ‘it’s me or nobody’ moments. And poof, I’m lying dead in a ditch.” You sighed loudly, running your hands over your face. “Why are psychos always so polite and charming?”

Dean said, picking up his coffee, “It’s how they lead people into their little fucked up web.”

You nodded in acknowledgment. Tears pricked and you felt yourself crumbling; you had held it together and this small crack in your façade that they had gotten you to open up was opening like a chasm. “I’m so tired. I can’t sleep.”

“Me either,” Sam admitted quietly.

“Ditto,” Dean chimed in.

Sniffling, trying to pull yourself back together before you fell apart, you attempted humor, “Glad to know we are all equally miserable here.”

Your phone buzzed in your jeans and you froze, your eyes moving between the two of them. They could not hear it over the noise in the restaurant and the fact it was in your pocket. The main two people who would text you were currently with you. Which left an unfavorable option.

“What?” Dean asked in response to your startled expression. He looked around quickly, eyes searching.

Slowly, you reached into your pocket and pulled your phone out. It was a text from him that looked to contain an address from the snippet you could see on your lock screen.

Eyes fixated on your phone, you barely breathed, “He texted me.”

You did not have to specify who ‘he’ was.

“Why haven’t you just blocked his number?” Dean asked vexed.

You had opened the text and read the address that was accompanied by a date as well.

Placing your phone down on the table, you took a deep breath, closing your eyes, taking a moment. When you opened your eyes again, you told him, “Because I would miss things like this. And like I’ve said, I feel responsible for whoever he is going to kidnap. Plus, if he can find me wherever I go however he does, what good does it do to block a number? He’ll just get a new phone and text me from that. Doesn’t seem like the type to give up easily.”

Sam and Dean read the text as you spoke.

“What is it for?” Sam questioned. “It doesn’t say a game.”

You shrugged, picking the phone back up, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Your heart rate was going up, staring at his name.

What is this for? You sent back.

The three of you waited impatiently, staring down at your phone. The waiter startled you all when he suddenly appeared at the table with your order.

Castiel still had not replied; it had almost been ten minutes. He was taking his sweet ass time.

You managed to get a few bites of food in before your phone buzzed and you all but dropped your silverware completely to get to it.

Another game. I would appreciate if you would RSVP quickly. The other guests look forward to your heroics. And it goes without saying that there is no room for a plus one or two in your case.

As soon as Sam read it, he said definitively, “You’re not going.”

“Damn straight,” Dean agreed, shoving a huge bite of pancakes into his mouth.

“But what if he gets upset?” you protested.

Dean gave you an incredulous look. Mouth full, he spat, “I don’t give a shit if his feelings get hurt!”

“He’s going to kill those people if he gets upset!” you hissed, leaning in to try to not be overheard by the other patrons.

Dean said nothing, instead exchanging a trying look with Sam across the table.

Taking the reins, Sam tried, “Y/N, yeah, that could happen. But we don’t know that for sure. For all we know, you could show up, there’s no one there and it’s you that kidnapped, and we never see you again. The only thing we know for sure is you’ll be safe if you don’t go at all.”

Moving your gaze away from him, you stared at the window. You knew deep down he was right. Castiel was unpredictable in the worst way possible and that made his request for you to come alone out of the question.

It was hard to stomach the anxiety though that people could be harmed because you were worried about yourself.

“I know,” you answered miserably.

Their eyes were on you as you picked up your silverware and resumed eating reluctantly. Each bite tasted sour. The rest of the meal was quiet as you were drawn back into your thoughts.

<> <> <>

“Maybe we should take a real vacation.”

This suggestion from Sam was what prompted the trip back to the Oregon coast near Cape Lookout. Dean insisted if this was where you guys were going to go, he needed the beach as much as he needed to visit the Tillamook Creamery. When you guys had gone, you had surprisingly been amazed at the amount of cheese samples Dean had not only managed to swindle but put away without getting sick. Enough actually to prompt you to buy some cheese to offset all the free samples, much to Dean’s pleasure to have back at the hotel.

Unlike Sam, you did not enjoy taking runs on the beach but you sure enjoyed rising early to take walks with the sun rising. Luckily the hotel was cheap that you guys found – because who cares what the room looks like as long as it is clean because you barely spent time there anyway – which meant you could book the room for a week More than enough time to travel up and down the coast to see as many viewpoints as possible. The Sea Lion Caves outside of Florence had been a trek but more than worth it.

This morning was the last one before heading home and it was quiet as the sand moved beneath your feet and the waves licked at your feet as you walked. Your sandals dangled from your hand as you took in the sea air, smiling softly as the gulls called overhead. Your endpoint was a local donut shop. If you brought a bag back, Dean would be sure to polish off whatever you and Sam did not eat when he drug himself out of bed.

Looking over the ocean waves. You wished you could stay here forever. Satisfied and tranquil.

<> <> <>

Placing your bag down on the table at the bottom of the stairs, you threw Sam a look.

“Don’t you wish we had a dog to greet us when we came home?”

Sa chuckled but Dean answered, “Hell no. Because if we had a dog, it would have been on that trip with us and it would have been in the backseat of my car messing up my seats.”

Rolling your eyes, you told him, “You always gotta be negative, don’t you? When it comes to dogs?”

Dean grunted in response, moving towards the hall with his bag in hand.

Sam and you exchanged a look.

“Pizza?” you asked. He rose an eyebrow in response, and you quipped, “I’ll make sure to order you some lettuce?”

“Cute. Where are we going?”

“Actually…” you started. “I was thinking I could go alone. No offense but I have been stuck in the car with you guys for a couple days.”

You did not miss the glint of unease in his eyes and you knew what was putting it there.

“I don’t know if that is smart, Y/N.”

“He hasn’t texted in almost two weeks. Since the diner.”

“That is precisely what is concerning. We don’t know what he’s planned. And you said he said himself he’s living in or near Lawrence.”

Jingling the keys in your hand, you shrugged, trying to put a braver look on your face than you felt. You had been thinking about it for days. What you should do.

“I can’t live in constant fear, Sam.”

Sam regarded you quietly.

You added, “I don’t want to let the thought of something bad happening keep me from living my life. Hell, if I did that, I couldn’t do what we do to begin with.”

This at least made him smile a little.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed softly. He fixed you with a hard stare though. “Please be careful.”

“I will,” you promised.

And you were. Looking both ways at four-way intersections, keeping track of who was in your rearview mirror, head on a swivel when you got out of the car to go into the pizza parlor downtown. You were on edge, imagining eyes following you. And more than once you caught yourself looking over your shoulder, afraid you would find Castiel there.

But he was not.

Every time.

You were not sure if that should calm you or make you even more nervous.

<> <> <>

Just when you started getting comfortable a week later, it all came crashing down.

Hand clutching your iced coffee and your other holding your bag containing a couple new books, you thanked the barista and turned away from them to go towards the exit.

Your eyes fell on him at a table next to the closest exit and you froze. He was staring directly at you and you knew he had been watching you for some time. Perhaps the whole time you had wandered around the store, picking up book after book, reading the back covers and placing back ones that had not caught your interest. And he had to have been to get himself situated the way he was and judging by the fact he had men around the two exits out of the café to the bookstore indicated this was calculated.

He motioned for you and pointed at the seat across from him, his mouth set in a thin line.

There were to many patrons for him to harm – you hoped – anyone. That hope is what forced you to move forward, cursing yourself for not having any weapons with you and letting your guard down.

Sinking into the chair, you refrained from placing your things down just yet. His stare was burning, and you wanted to recoil from the fierceness of it. His displeasure was evident.

“It has been awhile,” Castiel finally said, breaking the tension. “I needed… time to collect my thoughts. It disappointed me greatly when you did not show. In fact, it was downright insulting.”

You licked your bottom lip, contemplating how you were going to answer.

“The intention wasn’t to insult you,” you said slowly. “I have to admit I was – and am still, quite frankly – shaken by the… scene at the restaurant. You didn’t give me much to go on with that last text and I wasn’t sure what I was going to be walking into – especially alone. I considered it but decided to wait for word from you after the time had passed.”

Castiel was quiet again and you mirrored him. Although your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest.

He cleared his throat. “Hmm. It seems I still have not convinced you of your safety which is disappointing. But… I can admit I could have divulged more details regarding the parameters of the dinner.” He paused seeing the confused look on your face and he narrowed his in return. “What?”

“Dinner?”

“Yes,” he told you in a wry tone. “I was not going to invite you to something in the evening and not feed you. I am not a heathen. I actually care about your wellbeing.” He adjusted in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table eyeing you inquisitively. “You had considered coming, though?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I am upset it did not come to fruition. Especially since the duck was so delectable.”

“What about the others? The other guests? Did they show…?”

Shrugging, Castiel said, “They really had no choice in the matter. I feel that is one thing I have always been adamantly candid about in my texts. Their fate if you did not show to solve the game.”

Your stomach twisted in knots. This is what you had dreaded, what you had tried to reason with when discussing it with Sam and Dean. More people had died because of your inaction. Castiel had ultimately pulled the trigger but he had placed the gun at your feet first and you had neglected to act.

Apparently, it was clear as day on your face that you were in disbelief because Castiel pointed out, “I did tell you that you could trust me, did I not? That is one thing you can always be sure of. That I will never lie to you.”

He looked so sincere, like that fact should dispel any worry or negativity you were feeling. You were at a loss of what to do except to appease him until you could figure out a better plan.

Again, as if he could read your mind, he said, “If you were so inclined… you could make it up to me? Not a game this time; we will switch it up.”

Avoiding him was no longer an option. Placating him until you truly figured out what to do seemed viable right then and there.

“How?” you asked, your throat dry.

Castiel’s lips turned up, pleased. “The museum.”

Fuck.

You let out a small nervous chuckle and avoided eye contact.

“What?” he asked.

Shit shit shit.

Exhaling sharply, you met his eyes again and told him truthfully, “I don’t have the ticket.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I left it in the restaurant. On accident. I was a little flustered by the… scene in the kitchen. I didn’t remember. I wasn’t thinking completely straight as I hope you can understand.” His mouth was parted in surprise, staring. You added quickly, “I am sorry if you spent a lot of money on it. I can pay you back. I swear.”

He leaned towards you and you started to lean back in response, but his hand fell on yours holding your coffee, stopping your movement.

“Oh, Y/N. I did not mean to shake you up so badly. I do wish you had not gone into the kitchen but since you did… please know I only did that because of the way they were going to serve you. Improperly. And I could not abide that.” His fingers caressed yours and you were fighting every instinct to yank your hand away from him. “You do not have to pay me back but thank you for the offer. It is extremely sweet and thoughtful of you, kitten.”

He finally leaned back, his hand leaving yours.

“There is an event coming up instead that I can acquire tickets to. And I will hold onto them this time for safe keeping.” A small joke at your expense and you forced a small smirk in response. “I would like you to join me. I can send a text when and where.”

You were almost too afraid to ask. “What kind of event?”

“Musical.”

“Alright.”

His smile was wide. “Perfect. I look forward to it.”

“Me too,” you got out with as much false sincerity as you could muster.

The biggest problem was going to be getting out for an extended period of time without worrying Sam and Dean.

“I hope this outing of ours will bring us closer, kitten,” Castiel told you, standing up. He held out his hand towards you, peering down his nose. Clutching your bag, you stood, accepting his assistance. He took your drink and bag from you, “Let me walk you to your car.”

He was close, his cologne circling around you. After you unlocked the car, he placed your bag in the backseat before holding your door open politely.

Before he closed the door, he handed you your drink. “You look lovely by the way in that color. It flatters you so.”

“Thank you,” you told him, holding your drink close.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

You nodded and he closed the door, taking a step back to allow you room to back out of the parking space.

Your hands were trembling on the steering well as you left. He watched you until you drove off and he disappeared from the rearview when you turned the corner.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass

[gra-sonas]

I am not sure if you have been asked already if you have you can link to your answer if not what would you say you are most excited for in season 2? and then what would you say you are least excited for?

Hi nonnie!

I talked about some of it  in this post, but now that we’re closer to the S2 premiere (62 days), I tried to write down a little more (esp. about other characters than Alex *ahem*). THIS GOT LONG

Liz

Liz will have A LOT on her plate this season. She’s lost Max and got Rosa back in return. That’s some grade A emotional whiplash! It’ll be interesting to see how the new dynamic  between the sisters will be (Liz is the younger sister, but she’s the  older one now, that should be interesting!). We know from several BTS pics/vids this year (thanks, Trevino!), that Liz will work at the  Crashdown quite a bit (I wonder what that means in regards to a job in the field of biomedical engineering?). I also expect her to figure out a way to bring Max back (does she have/get a lab, will there be another underground bunker, will she work at Michael’s bunker???).

In the trailer Liz was seen with Jenna (����) who showed her how to use a weapon. WHY IS LIZ LEARNING HOW TO SHOOT??? 😱 How is her relationship with her dad, will she tell him about Rosa (not just that she’s back, but also the bit about where Jim Valenti is Rosa’s biological dad? Or does Arturo already know???).  And what role does Liz’s mom play when she comes to visit? Oh, and how/when does she figure out how to bring back Max? So many questions, and I can’t wait to find out.

Rosa

Rosa’s return is one of very, VERY few things I liked about 1x13. I’m so excited she’s back and can’t wait to get to know her properly in S2. She’ll have a lot to deal with (”I’m a ghost.” is what she says in the trailer, that implies that she has to stay hidden, at least early on!). She’s still a recovering alcoholic and addict, and then there’s this whole thing of being alive again after a decade of… well, a decade of what? Noah put her in his pod, the same pod he said didn’t keep him in stasis properly. What does that mean for Rosa? Noah’s in a scene with Rosa in the trailer, is that a flashback? Was she ‘alive’ in the pod, or was she actually dead and didn’t feel a thing? How will her dad react? How’s her relationship with Liz going to develop? How ‘delighted’ will she be to interact with Kyle, her half-brother? I can’t wait to find out about all of that!

Isobel

My girl Isobel! She’s gonna have a lot to deal with in S2. First and foremost there’s Max’s death, which - given that they are sharing a very special psychic bond - I would imagine will be super hard for her to handle. In 1x13 we also saw her ‘unlock’ a new (new to her) power. Is that something she’ll try to develop further in the hopes of bringing Max back? Will she work with Liz? Will she unlock other powers? How will she approach dealing with the severe trauma of Noah betraying and (ab)using her? Will she go to therapy? Pretend like  everything is okay and try to figure it out on her own? Go to Kyle and talk to him? Go to Alex (PLEASE, LET HER GO TO ALEX)? Is she the one who’ll identify as ‘not straight’ at the end of S2? I’m absolutely STOKED for Isobel’s journey, especially bc Lily’s the coolest who also gives Carina ideas and talks to her about Isobel a lot. This is going to be so good!!!

Maria

Maria’s the character that had the least development in S1. She didn’t have  much of a storyline of her own, and mostly served as a catalyst for other character’s stories. I hope that will fundamentally change in S2. Carina’s said that they’ll dive into Maria’s family history this season, meaning that we’ll hopefully find out more about the necklace she’s wearing, its powers, and what part her family played after the UFO crash in 1947. What’s the DeLuca family legacy, and what do they know about aliens? When will Maria find out about aliens, and how will she react - not just about the fact that aliens exist, but that everyone close to her kept it from her for so long? Will be interesting to see what they’re doing with Maria this season. 

Max

Will probably stay dead for at least some of S2, he’ll probably be brought back halfway through S2? The when and how of bringing him back is one thing, interesting will also be, how Max is. Is he the same as before? Or did the use of that much power to bring Rosa back cost him. A part of his soul? His memories? Something else? Some people mentioned dark!Max could be an option, that could be really cool.

Kyle

My boo Kyle!!! I want nothing but good things to happen to Dr. McSexy. I hope his friendship with Alex continues to blossom and grow, I can’t wait for more brilliant and hilarious one-liners and quips (Kyle had the best lines in S1, and Trevino delivered every single one to perfection!), there’s at least one Kyliz kiss in his future, and while I know they’ll never be endgame (😢), I’ll enjoy it while it lasts (here’s me shallowly hoping for some good recreational s e x for the good doctor, though I do hope he doesn’t get his heart broken.

Michael

It’ll be SO hard to see Michael spiral. :( He’s got so many things to deal with, and I’m worried how long his ‘free fall’ will last before he’s able to stabilize? Caulfield and Max’s death will be super hard on him, Iz will be busy getting her own life in order, and while I hope Liz and Michael will work together to bring Max back, it remains to be seen if Michael’s even up for it. I’m just glad to know that Alex is around, solid as a rock, not going anywhere, and I hope Michael will allow him to be there for him. ‘Only’ as a friend for now, but that’s what S2′s supposed to be about, Alex and Michael becoming friends. They still love each other (SO MUCH 🥺), they still have this cosmic bond, and I hope that despite them not being together (as ‘in a relationship), they’ll steadily move towards getting back together.

Special wish: should the ‘Alex gets kidnapped’ story line happen, I can’t WAIT for tornado!Michael to do everything in his power(s) to bring him back. And should there be a reason for Michael to put a handprint on Alex, I WANT IT!!!

Alex

Unsurprisingly, I’m most looking forward to all things Alex next season. And I really mean ALL things. Just seeing him will spark joy. I’m also prepared to worry about him. A LOT. First of all, he’ll re-enlist again. Staying in the Air Force enables him to get access to important information, which hopefully helps to keep Michael, Iz and Max safe, but what a price to pay… :/

I’m looking forward to the developing friendship between Alex and Michael, for the friendship between Alex and Kyle to grow, and I want a friendship between Alex and Isobel like almost nothing else in S2! I’m looking forward to BAMF!Alex who left nice in the Middle East and is ready to take on the fight with his father. I’m looking forward to interactions between Alex and his brothers (soooo curious about all things Manes Brothers!). I’m anxious to see how he’ll react to M/M (I really hope they won’t make him pretend it’s no big deal, or ‘forgive’ like it’s nothing that Maria went behind his back…), I hope to see Alex’s disability be more ‘visible’ again than during the latter half of S1. I wish his PTSD and what it means for him would be more visible and addressed but that might not happen. And then there’s of course BUFFYYYY! I’m prepared to sob my way through their first encounter. I’m so, so happy he gets to have her! ❤️

Buffy

I CANNOT WAIT TO MEET THIS VERY GOOD GIRL!!!!! 😍

What I hope for

A season that expands the RNM universe without losing focus of our main characters. Reveals of important alien history. Friendships developing. I hope that the influence of the large number of queer, POC, and female people working in the writers room and behind the camera will have a really positive influence on how S2 comes together.

I also hope for S2 to end on a positive/hopeful note for Malex. I hope they won’t be in relationships with other people going into S3, and I hope there’ll be a real chance for them to get back together in S3.

Despite them not being together in S2, I still hope for a kiss (OR SEVERAL, DON’T HOLD BACK ON MY ACCOUNT). I can’t go an entire season without them kissing 🥺🥺🥺

More characters  + some DNWs below the cut

Jenna

My girl Jenna! Gosh, I love her, and I can’t wait to see her again. I’m also hoping she’ll be in more than one episode. I want to know more about Charlie, I want to see more of my favorite sleuthing trio Jenna/Alex/Kyle. Just… give me aaaaaall the Jenna content!

Mimi

I hope we’ll learn more about her, her history with Jesse, and her potential history with aliens. What does Mimi know, did an alien ‘give’ her dementia? Is there a cure?

Steph

Steph (played by Justina Adorno) is a new character we haven’t met yet. According to Justina, “Steph is sassy. She is the Head of Surgery’s daughter. She’s a smart educated girl with a little sass“. So we don’t have much to work with yet, but ‘Head of Surgery’s daughter’ implies, that she might meet Kyle first (at the hospital)? Will she be in on the alien secret, or play a different role? Either way, I’m always excited for more female characters!

Grace Powell

I couldn’t be more excited about Jamie Clayton in Roswell, she’s brilliant and I want her around for more than just 2-3 episode. Hope she’s one of the good guys!

Mara & Louise

Mara (Michael’s mom) and Louise (likely Isobel’s and Max’s mom) are two characters we’ll meet in flashbacks to 1947. I’m excited to find out more about the aliens who crashed, where they are from, I hope the flashbacks will fill out some blanks. I’m also very curious to find out how they’ll incoroprate the flashbacks in general. Are these memories Isobel and Michael manage to unlock? Are there videos in the Caulfield files? Do they find old diaries in 2018 and they play out on screen?

Jesse

May he get what he deserves in S2 (AND I WANT ALEX TO BE THE LAST THING HE EVER SEES, PREFERABLY ALEX KISSING MICHAEL)

Arturo

No one, and I mean really absolutely NO ONE is allowed to mess with Papi Ortecho. (ง︡’-‘︠)ง  (ง︡’-‘︠)-o  (ง︡’-‘︠)ง Liz needs him, Rosa needs him,I need him. He better be healthy and well by the end of S2!

Jason Behr’s character

No idea who he’s going to play, probably someone from the 1947 timeline? Or someone who could be dangerous for the Pod Squad in 2018?

Wyatt Long

He’ll be in at least one episode, maybe more? What is he going to do if he ever finds out Rosa’s back???

For[r]est

Hopefully a good guy, and good for Alex. Still not eager to see this unfold on screen tho…

Manes Brothers

Ahhhhh, I’m actually super excited for Gregory Manes, and also for more Flint! I hope we’ll find out more about them, about their dynamics, who’s older/younger, how it was when they were little, and even though we won’t meet their mom this season, I hope we’ll hear sth about her (and why she left). I also hope that at least one of them will be in Alex’s corner, I’d also be in favor of a redemption arc for Flint, just putting that out there.

DNW

Any and all M/M & A/F “love” triangle stuff. I don’t want it and I wish it wasn’t part of S2. Alas, it will be and I just hope M/M will end quickly, and A/F is nothing but a fling. Ugh, I don’t want any of this 😩 My absolute nightmare would be for both ‘relationships’ to last into S3.

Extensive flashbacks to 1947 that take away precious screen time I’d rather see dedicated to characters in 2018.

Episodes that had to be edited extensively to fit 42 minutes (still mourning every little scene they had to cut from S1 episodes, even though we’ll never know what and how much got cut from each ep, it just was A LOT for some episodes)

Too much focus on the overall ‘murder mystery’ plot (or whatever we’ll get this year) . I’d much rather see the characters grow and interact with each other (more group scenes would be nice).

Another trash fire of a final episode like 1x13. Of course there will be a cliffhanger, and this time we know that we’ll definitely get another season, but still. Another season finale leaving the characters - and therefore us - in such a bad place would be the absolute worst. We’ve barely made it through this hiatus, I don’t think this fandom could handle another one with so much uncertainty, heartbreak, and dread of what’s to come in S3.

In case you’ve made it until the very end of this post, thank you, and thanks for your ask!!! Hope you’re having a great day, nonnie!  ✨💚👽

[supernatural-book]

Ghosts That We Knew

Title: Ghosts That We Knew

Summary: Dean’s girlfriend was a virgin, and he was always patient with her. Until he turned into a demon. When Dean regains his humanity, he has no memory of what he did. (Set a few weeks after Dean become human again and, even though the Mark still remains, things are going back to “normal”).

Warnings: (THIS IS A DARK ONE. Don’t read unless you’re sure nothing in here will be a trigger)  rape, violence, Deanmon is a fucking horrible person, major guilt, and self-hatred but it ends in angsty fluff. (there’s also a big, bold warning in the story before the bad part, so you’ll know when to skip.) I didn’t mean for this one to get so long but I got really invested in it and I’m really proud of it, despite the horrible things that happen in it. Also, it took me so many times to try and edit this thing before actually posting.

Word Count: 6,790 (ish, my longest fic so far!)

“So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light. Cause oh, that gave me such a fright. But I will hold as long as you like. Just promise me we’ll be alright.”

-Ghosts That We Knew, Mumford and Sons

You were scared of him- the man you loved- and it felt horrible. 

Dean was always so patient with you, especially when it came to sex. When you first admitted it being a virgin in the middle of a heated moment, he immediately stopped and promised that he'd wait until you were ready. After that, he’d never even tried to do anything more than you were comfortable with. Sometimes he would jokingly whine about it: “Oh, sweetheart,” he’d murmur into your skin while cuddling with you one night. “You love making me wait, don’t you?” This being said, he still held back. He always followed up with: “But when that time comes, all that built-up pressure…  Oh, it'll be worth it. So I’ll wait for you, baby.” For you. He was always the absolute sweetest.

That's why you were so scared when you learned he became a demon- a knight of Hell. From the very first time you saw him after his death- the surveillance footage of Dean killing a man with the first blade- you knew all of his morals had gone out the window. You and Sam had only managed to capture him for a week before he escaped the dungeon. That's when he attacked you. Cas managed to get him back into the dungeon while Sam helped you recover from the worst night of your life. The feeling of utter betrayal and disgust was unimaginable. But you knew it wasn’t Dean. It was a monster. 

A week later, he was cured, and the three of you took a few more weeks off from hunting. Even though you were there when he was cured- in fact, you watched as the light came back to his crystal green eyes- you still couldn't bring yourself to forget what he did. And no one could blame you. 

Now, a full month after the incident, the three of you were traveling in the dead of night, heading to a new hunt just like the good old days. Apparently, three girls had ended up dead within the span of a week, all in the same way. The news described it as an “apparent sacrificial murder”. It seemed like it could be related to something supernatural, so you decided to check it out. Sam was asleep, and it was only you and Dean and the rumble of the engine. You could practically feel his eyes flicking up to look at you in the mirror every now and then as he drove. Usually, you would use this time to talk with Dean cheekily about things Sam didn't need to hear. But now, you were doing everything in your power to avoid him. Your plan was soiled when Dean spoke up, nearly catching your gaze in the rearview mirror.

"You should get some sleep, you know. It'll be a while." 

"I'll be alright." You didn't meet his eyes. To be honest, you were still too unnerved to fall asleep in his presence. 

"Alright." It was obvious that Dean could tell you were avoiding him, but he never pressed as to why you had been so much more distant than Sam after his time as a demon. You were his girlfriend, he figured- so it would obviously have a different effect on you than Sam.

The moment he came back from being a demon, you were the first one he saw. He caught the look in your eyes and knew you weren't going to recover any time soon. Dean knew it took you a while to recover after certain hunts, and this was much, much more than just a hunt. Your boyfriend- the man you were closest to- had become a monster. It had emotionally strained you, so of course you'd take a while to recover. Later, he learned that he had tried to kill his own brother. God, he was so ashamed- he hated himself- but Sammy seemed to have forgiven him, But, whatever he did to you must have been worse. He never thought that you would continue to grow away from him, further and further every day. At first, you had tried your hardest to talk with him. He never pushed- never. But eventually, you had stopped trying, and even went out of your way to avoid seeing him at all. 

You were slipping away from him. And he was scared that one day he’d wake up and you'd be completely gone.

Dean finally refocused on the road in front of him, trying to push out of his mind all that might’ve happened and you continued to look out the window, getting lost in the scenes flying past and replaying the memories of that horrible night in your head.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Sam call for you from the bunker’s dungeon, where Dean had been receiving blood treatments. ‘Oh, God’. You turned, hurrying to find the younger Winchester. You find him in the halls, visibly terrified but relieved to find you. Immediately, you put two and two together.

“Is Dean out?”

“Yeah.” Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart stopped momentarily. Sam handed you a knife, noticing the look on your face. “God, I hope you don’t have to use that, but you can at least slow him down if he corners you. Just in case.” Before you could respond, a familiar voice rang through the halls.

“Sammy! (Y/N)! Come on, guys. Let’s have some fun!” Sam and you met each other’s eyes in fear, and he pulled you through the hallway with him, away from the voice.

“I’m going to get the keys to the control room and shut off the power. You should probably hide somewhere. Lock the door. Just- avoid him. You think you’ll be alright on your own?” 

“Yeah. I’ll survive.” He gave you a quick nod and rushed off, while you took cover in a random “guest room”. It wasn’t long before the power went out, replaced by the red emergency lights. 

And then you heard him.

You stayed awake until the Impala was parked outside a motel with only a few hours of darkness left. You promptly ran in and claimed a bed to yourself, almost immediately passing out as Sam pulled Dean aside. "Dean, you've gotta sleep in the car."

"What?" 

"The room only has two beds, and I don't think (Y/N) is ready to sleep in the same bed as you yet. Maybe not even in the same room." Dean couldn't help the paranoid feeling that ran through him at the thought of his brother and girlfriend sharing a room, but he knew that you were still shaken up and avoiding him, so he agreed, despite how much it hurt. 

"Has (Y/N) been acting weird, or is it just me?" When he was met by silence, he knew he had put his brother in an uncomfortable position. "What happened?" Sam only shook his head in apology.

"I know you’re worried about her, but I can’t say anything. You'll have to ask her about it. I'm sworn to secrecy." 

While Dean was taking a shower, out of earshot, Sam caught your attention quietly. “(Y/N), I don’t want to pressure you into telling Dean about… the incident, but he’s been asking. It’s been killing him. He still loves you, you know. And, if you ask me, he at least deserves to know why you’ve been avoiding him. He doesn’t remember, and he’s so worried.” You only smiled woefully. You knew that you’d have to tell him eventually, and it’s already been a month. 

“I know Sam. I just don't know how to tell him.”

“I know. I get it. You don’t have to tell him yet if you’re not comfortable, but I know you still both love each other, and you’ll have to eventually, you know.”

“I know.”

The next day, the three of you were up early in the morning, dressed in your FBI garb and ready to prod at corpses at the coroner’s office. After you had asked to look at the bodies, the officers left, and the three of you immediately looked for a connection between the girls. “Okay,” you started, cautiously prodding at the girl's skin. “Didn’t see anything about this in the news article…” Sam and Dean looked over and noticed the same thing. Each of the girls had a different symbol carved into their skin, right in the middle of their chests. Why the officers didn’t mention the symbols earlier, who knows. The symbols themselves were different, but they were obviously of the same language or script. 

“Good eye, sweetheart.” Dean’s gentle pet name and the adoring smirk that played on his lips sent a shock of memories through your body, but you sent a small, forced smile his way. 

“Sweetheart.” You had to suppress a scream, hearing his honey-sweet, singsongy voice in the hallway right outside the room. “Come on, baby, I know you’re here! Don’t you want some sweet, sweet loving from your dear boyfriend?” You heard his footsteps right outside the room and held your breath, praying to anything that would listen that he’d keep walking. His steps were slow and drawn out, echoing off the walls of the hallway. 

And then they stopped. 

You froze. Maybe he’ll keep walking soon if he doesn’t find out you’re here. Hopeful thinking. And then, with a painfully loud crash, the door was kicked in. You couldn’t stop the scream that ripped through you. 

There, standing at the broken-in door, was Dean. ‘No, no no.’ You told yourself. ‘This isn’t Dean, not the Dean I know’. 

“There you are, baby. The smirk that tore across his face was sickening. You tried to look strong, standing up straighter and holding your knife in front of you.

“Get away from me.” 

“Aw, (Y/N), (Y/N), we both know you won’t do anything with that.” He took another cocky step forward, pressing the knife to his own throat tauntingly. “Do it. Kill me.” For the first time since he became what he is, you locked eyes. It’s the same green you remember seeing when you would gaze up at him after a passionate kiss, but there was something missing. His eyes were devoid of love, of humanity. The look there just confirmed your fear: this wasn’t the man you love. If these treatments don’t work… he’s gone. Maybe forever this time.

When you don’t move, he grabs your wrist roughly and tosses your knife on the ground. You snap out of your thoughts when you hear it clatter and you immediately regret your decision. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against the wall by a firm body, a body you remember as being kind and warm, and a shiver of fear runs through you. 

“Oh, we’re gonna have fun, aren’t we sweetheart?” 

That afternoon, the three of you split up to talk to each of the victims’ families. Luckily, they were all in the same neighborhood, so it didn’t talk long to do it. You agreed to each take one of the families and meet up at the Impala when it was over.

Seeing the victim’s grieving families was always your least favorite part of the hunt. The confusion and fear and pain they felt that comes with losing someone without warning had always been so hard for you to see. But now, it was even worse. After losing Dean not even a year ago and having him come back as a demon and do… unforgivable things to you, you knew exactly what it felt like. 

The talk with the victim’s tearful family didn’t take long. Apparently, the young girl was coming home from some late-night church group one night when she went missing. You wondered if the other girls were also pure, virgin, churchgoers. 

With a good idea of when and where the kidnapping happened, maybe even why it happened, you headed back to the Impala and saw that Sam and Dean were waiting. “(Y/N).” Dean smiled when he saw you. It was so, so like him to keep trying to stay happy for you when you were obviously avoiding him. “So, what do we got?” You sucked in a breath and realized that you can’t avoid him anymore.

“Well, she was a good kid. Churchgoer, virgin. She was taken while coming home from church. That’s about the gist of it.” 

“Huh. Yeah, I talked to the other girl’s boyfriend. Virgin.”

“Guess we found out what they have in common. They were all virgins.” Sam confirms. 

“I’m thinking maybe they were taken for some sort of virgin sacrifice. I don’t know what type of monster goes after virgin except for dragons. Maybe someones sacrificing them to some sort of deity?” 

“Alright.” You notice Dean sent a proud smile your way. It’s not uncommon for him to do this after you’ve helped them on a case. He always did his best to make you feel appreciated, and it always sent a flush of color to your cheeks when he was proud of you. “Who wants some food?” He saw the incredulous look Sam gave him and continued. “Hey, dude, I’m hungry. We didn't even have breakfast. We can do our researching in a diner over some burgers, can’t we?” 

And so, you headed out to a nearby diner to grab some food and do some research. The car ride was just as quiet as the other night, with Sam scrolling on his phone, probably already researching, and you were still not talking. Dean watched you quietly in the rearview mirror, with a concerned gaze. He didn’t want to push you into talking to him, but he was getting so scared that something bad happened to you while he was a demon. Maybe you’re still just trying to understand that he’s human again. Dean tried every single day to remind you that he’s himself again- the Dean that would hold you close at night, the Dean that would patch you up after a rough hunt, the Dean that was always so gentle and caring towards you. But nothing worked. You were slipping away from him more and more every day, and he was scared that one day he’d wake up and you’d be gone.

In the diner, your subconscious took over and you scooted into the booth right beside Dean- just like you used to. You saw Dean smile out of the corner of your eye and looked up at him with an uncertain smile. You had no idea why you did that, you haven’t been this close to him in so long. But by this point, it was just muscle memory.

But it felt so right.

For the majority of the time you sat together in the diner, there was a lighter, less dense air between the three of you. You and Dean chatted almost casually as if you were still the friends and lovers you were before. It almost felt as if things had gone back to normal as if the things Dean did to you never happened. 

"So that’s our plan? We’re just gonna march in there and hopefully catch the guy red-handed? " Sam had found a type of deity that could be summoned using virgins and certain symbols, and it seemed likely that this was what was happening. He’d suggested the three of you stake out at the church and watch the girls leave, hopefully find the guy and jump him. You just shrugged. The three of you have been through worse. “Alright. I’m down.” Dean let out an unamused chuckle and looked down at you like you were crazy.

“You’re joking, right?” You and Sam exchanged a glance. The moment you realized that the hunt included virgin sacrifices, you knew this would come up. “No, (Y/N), there’s no way you can come with. Sorry about the TMI, Sammy, but I’m not letting this virgin obsessed guy get her.”

“Dean…” You started. 

“And before you volunteer to be bait, no. I’m not risking it. Not after every fucked up thing that’s happened to us recently-”

“It wouldn’t work, anyway.” You muttered under your breath. 

“Huh?” Dean went silent, not sure what you had muttered, and focused all his attention on you.

“I’m not a virgin.” You barely raised your voice, but this time he heard. Dean’s face scrunched up in confusion. “So using me as bait wouldn’t work anyway. He won’t come after me. So I can go on the hunt.” 

“Ooookay, I’m gonna wait in the car.” Sam got up slowly, laying down a couple of bills for his food and throwing you a reassuring smile that seemed to say ‘You got this’.You watched as he left the diner, before gathering yourself together and realizing just how close you were sitting to Dean. You scooted away from him but still found yourself suffocatingly close. Too close.

Way too close.

“(Y/N).” His voice was so low, so firm, but not yet angry. He just wanted to know what happened to the innocent, sweet (Y/N) that wanted to save herself for him. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean I…” You shifted uncomfortably in the booth, throat suddenly tight and mind hazed over in fear. “I’m not a virgin.” 

“Did you... did you lie about being one before?”

“No. I- I was one.” You would give anything to run out of that diner and not have to face this conversation. You’ve never seen Dean quite as upset as he was now. What was that emotion? You couldn’t quite place it. Anger- maybe, but masked behind sadness and confusion. And the betrayal…

“You were. But now you’re not. Did you… did you cheat on me?” His voice raised at the end in accusation and his eyes narrowed, trying to find any hint of an answer on your face. He was getting angry. It was the Mark. It was just the Mark making him react this way. You opened your mouth to choke out a quick answer, but froze completely when his hand roughly found your wrist under the table. “(Y/N), answer me!” He growled at you. Growled. That was the breaking point. You pulled away from his touch as hard as you could and jumped up quickly, almost knocking a waitress over. You apologized profusely before running out of the diner, not even looking back at Dean, and trying to calm yourself of the memories running through your mind. 

*** Potentially Triggering Content Below ***

“We’re gonna have fun, aren’t we, sweetheart?” And his lips were on yours. It was like before. It wasn’t unlike Dean to kiss you as deeply- and sometimes even as roughly- as this. For a moment, you forgot that this wasn’t your Dean. But you turned your head away, trying to break the kiss, You’ve wanted Dean for so long. You’ve wanted to feel Dean’s hands all over your body. But not like this.

Never like this. 

This wasn’t the Dean you knew. Not the Dean that promised to be gentle and slow when it came time to finally sleep together. No. This monster was rough, fast and uncaring. But to see Dean’s body, to feel his hands on your skin… It was too much.

And you hated yourself for being turned on by it. 

You pushed against him, trying to resist him, but he was a demon. He was stronger than you. It was basically hopeless. But yet, you tried your best to kick and push at him. You put your hands on his shoulders and tried to push him back. It was hard to hit him when this was still Dean’s body. 

“Oh, you like to put up a fight, baby? How cute.” 

“Stop it!” You pushed aside your hesitations and threw a fist towards his beautiful face. Barely flinching, he grabbed your jaw roughly with one hand, pinned your wrists together with the other and forced you to look at him. His eyes had gone black, and he was- to put it simply- terrifying. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me, you black-eyed dick.” You had momentarily gotten him to stop what he was doing, but you soon realized that your plan didn’t work like you thought it would. 

“Oh, I plan to, bitch.” You’d never heard Dean call you a bitch or anything bad for that matter. For some reason, it hurt so much hearing it come from his lips, in his voice. Not wasting any time, his hand slid under your shirt and grabbed at your breasts roughly. You tried to ignore the feeling of his hands groping you, and forced yourself to look at him, trying a different approach. 

“Dean, please. I know you’re there somewhere. The real you. You don’t have to do this.” 

“Oh ho, that’s your plan?” He seemed amused, taking a glance at your scared expression. “Sweet talking me out of it? Well, hate to break it to you, but this is the real me.” 

That’s when you felt it. 

Dean was hard, pressing himself against your inner thigh. His hand traveled down your arm and unbuttoned your jeans. You weren’t sure if it was his demonic powers or just pure shock that was keeping you from moving, but no matter how much you wanted to, you were frozen in place. “I can’t believe how long you made me wait for this. Don’t you think you owe me something? What kind of worthless excuse of a girlfriend are you that you can’t even give your boyfriend sex?” 

“No. You’re not Dean. Dean would never do this.” He knew just what to say to hurt you. You had worried about being a bad girlfriend ever since you told Dean you were a virgin. Though you felt bad for asking Dean to take it slow, he always reminded you that you weren’t a burden to make him wait. So, despite how difficult it was, you pushed his words out of your mind, trying not to let them get to you. His hand was suddenly grabbing you in places no one has ever touched, slipping a finger inside of you. You hated yourself for how turned on you were, considering the circumstances. “Get the fuck off!” Your voice failed you, and Dean laughed. 

“You’re so turned on, sweetheart.” You hated it. Absolutely hated that he was calling you sweetheart. You used to love when he called you sweetheart. Now, it was a curse. He said it mockingly, spitting on your relationship. His fingers pumped harder. “You want this. You’ve waited for this for a while, haven’t you? You’ve touched yourself thinking of me.” He yanked your pants down only far enough to gain access. 

“No. Not of you.” You thrashed against his hold again.

“You’re not going anywhere.” you felt him grind against your now naked lower half and panic rose in your throat. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” You feel him reposition you against the wall and knew what was coming. You tried your hardest to kick at him and only found yourself frozen in place. “Stop!” You thrashed against his hold and he only held you tighter as he pushed into you. He moved roughly, giving you no time to adjust- not that that would be any better, anyway. 

“Stop talking!” 

So you gave up. With hot tears streaming down your face, you closed your eyes so that you wouldn't have to see Dean's face and just waited, prayed for it to be over. Before you knew it, Dean’s body was ripped from yours and you were falling into someone’s arms. “Holy shit. (Y/N). I've got you. Breath.” You remember feeling Sam cover you up with a blanket without looking at your exposed body and holding you while Castiel pulled Dean away to the dungeon. You remember feeling Castiel’s grace wash over you gently, helping your body recover from the violation. They were so kind and cautious to you during this time and made sure not to even speak of Dean in your presence. But when the time came, a week later- you told them you wanted to watch him come back to this world.

And you did.  

It felt like you had been making progress with Dean in the recent days. You had talked to him more than you have all month, and you even sat next to him and almost leaned onto his shoulder. But now that was all over. Here you were again in the backseat of the Impala, once again not speaking to Dean, and this time bruised and bloody.

The hunt went south quickly. Turns out, the “monster” that you were hunting was just some stupid guy who wanted to summon a demon. Well, not like he knew, but killing these virgins was not the way to do it. In fact, he managed to summon an age-old deity who wanted to kill. This guy's fourth victim was already dead, but by summoning this monster he had nearly doomed the whole town. Luckily, the three of you had improvised and managed to send the deity back where it came from. Dean, still plagued by the Mark of Cain, had obviously been taking his anger out on the monster and, in the end, killed the man who had summoned it as well. The scariest thing about the night was how unphased Dean was with killing. 

So now, you sat in the back of the Impala, tears streaming down your face silently and pretending to be asleep so that Dean wouldn’t try to talk to you about it. Your shoulder was hurt during the hunt and you’d surely have some bruises forming but, other than that and the emotional trouble you were going through, you were unharmed. The moment the car pulled into the bunker’s garage, you knew Dean would want to carry you inside like he always did when you were asleep after hunts, and you couldn’t handle that right now. As soon as he parked, you were out, running into the bunker and to your bedroom. 

You locked the door to your room, shed your bloodied jacket and immediately dropped onto your bed, pressing your face into your pillow. You couldn’t show it earlier, but after your conversation with Dean in the diner and seeing him go all Mark of Cain on the monster earlier, you were worried about what he would say to you. He thought you cheated on him. It would be easier for him to handle that lie than the truth to what really happened.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” You barely heard the voice on the other side of the door. It was Dean. As much as you wanted to crumble into his arms and cry, you also didn’t want to face him. 

“I’m fine.” 

“That’s gotta be the least convincing thing I’ve ever heard.” You heard a small, somber chuckle and smiled. That was just like Dean. “Come on, (Y/N). I’m not angry at you. I just... I wanna see you. Please?” You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the sincerity that you had so often used to ground yourself when you were scared. This was your Dean again. He was back. He wasn’t a demon and you didn’t need to be scared of him anymore. So you stood up and opened the door. There he stood, looking down at you with a sad smile and holding a steaming cup of tea in his hands. "I made you that tea you like." He handed it over to you and motioned to your bed. “Can I come in?”

“Okay.” You backed up, still keeping your eyes on him while you sat back on your bed, crossing your legs underneath you and pulling the blanket up around you, cupping your drink between your palms. Dean closed the door to your room gently behind him and sat beside you on your bed, hands balled into fists on his thighs.

“It’s… weird to have separate rooms, don’t you think?” His smile held no happiness as he looked around at the decor you had taken out of your shared room and added here. Last he remembered, you slept in his room. Hell, most of his stuff probably still smelled like you. But ever since he became a demon, you’d retreated to the room you had before you started dating him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty different.” An air of somber silence fell over the two of you for a few moments, before Dean spoke up again. 

“Okay, look…” His smile dropped and he faced you with a serious look. “In the diner earlier… I 

overreacted. I’m sorry for grabbing you.” He went to hold your hand gently but paused when you again flinched away from him. He pulls his hand away, balling it up on his fist again. There’s a visible pain in his eyes when he meets yours. “I… I’ve been thinking, and I’m not angry anymore. I don’t care if you slept with someone else while I was gone. It’s selfish of me to want to keep you for myself when I’m not even here for you. Hell, to be honest, I probably slept around a lot.” He paused, shaking his head as if he were ashamed. “But if you’re willing to look past that fact, so am I.” 

“Dean…” You couldn’t figure out what to say. Where could you start? 

“But, (Y/N), please tell me what’s wrong. Ever since I've come back, you've been… distant. You’re… you’re flinching every time I move. I hate seeing you so withdrawn. So scared of me. I'm so, so fucking scared that I'm going to wake up one day and you'll have left." He stopped talking when you reached out and hesitantly lifted up his hand in yours. You focused your attention on his hand, rubbing circles over his palm and feeling the rough pads of his fingers, before tangling your fingers through his. The warmth of his skin traveled from his hand to yours and, once again, you were reminded of just how human he was again.

"Dean. Dean." Your voice wavered, and soon you were sobbing his name quietly, head bowed in front of him and holding his hand in yours. "Dean…"

"(Y/N)." Dean lowered his face to meet your eyes, trying his best to smile reassuringly at you. But it wasn’t easy to reassure when neither of you was sure about anything " Baby, please tell me the truth. About everything. I can tell there's something I don't remember and it's killing me, baby. I don't like seeing you hurt and not knowing how to help." You lean into him and cry silently on his shoulder. 

"Dean I'm so scared." Dean let you cry for a moment, and he didn't try to hug you, despite how much he wanted to. Then, you looked up at him. He looked so, so hurt. A face as beautiful as his should never, never look so broken. A man as amazing as him should never feel anything less than happy. "Dean, I'm not going to try to... slip away into the night. Never. Okay? But. I'm just so scared. Yeah, something did happen, and I am still a little scared of you. But I'm not giving up on us." 

"So it was me? I did something?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you did." You took a breath and tugged your blanket tighter around you. "You did something. And sometimes, when I see you, I think you're still a demon. And I get scared." 

"I hurt you?" You nodded. "I hurt you. Shit." Dean sucked in a breath and looked away, rubbing his hands over his face and trying to gather himself. Dean always had a problem with feeling guilty and beating himself up whenever you or Sam got hurt on a hunt, even if it wasn't his fault. He'd hide away in his room with a bottle of liquor and drink the night away, and he'd come to you in the morning and wrap himself around you, apologizing and promising he'd never let you get hurt again. You couldn't imagine how he feels knowing he was the one who hurt you. "Shit. I'm so sorry. Did- did I hurt you so bad that earlier today you thought I would hurt you again? Because of your, ah, virginity?" 

"Wait, Dean. That's something else I need to clear up." You looked up at him, eyes rimmed in red. "About my virginity. Well, actually, who took it." Dean watched you gently for a moment before shaking his head.

"You really don't need to tell me." 

"I do, though."

"Well, I don't know them, do I? Cause that would just be awkward." He gave a weak smile, trying to lighten the situation. You looked down at his hand, still in yours, and tried to piece together your sentences. But then Dean spoke up, hesitant and careful as he looked into your eyes for any sign of an answer. "(Y/N), do you… still love me? Or do you want to be with them instead?"

"No, Dean. I-."

"I would understand if you wanted to leave. I won't try to stop you. In fact-" 

"Dean, stop." You couldn't take it any longer. With tears once again streaming out of your eyes, you ducked your head and rested it on his shoulder. "Dean, it was you. When you were a demon." 

"What?" Dean seemed to take a moment to piece together all the things you had told him. "I'm the one who…?" Then he pulled back from you, trying to gauge your emotions to figure out if what he thought was true. “No.” You watched all the emotions play on his face, his eyes widening and his lips parting as he tried to understand what that meant. He finally seemed to process what he'd done, and stood from the bed, pacing the room and rubbing his hands over his face. "No." When he finally moved his hands away, you could see his eyes were red and wet- he'd been crying silently. 

"Please don't cry." 

"Don't-?" Dean cut himself off, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. He couldn't even bring himself to look at you. "(Y/N), how am I supposed to do that? I-" his voice cracked and he looked down at the floor. "How can you even stand being near me? After… after that? After I…" He rubbed his hand over his face again and mumbled. “Son of a bitch…”

And then he was gone, rushing out of the room as if he needed to get away from you.

And you went after him after a moment, following him through the hall and watching as he pushed the door to his room open and let his fist fly into the wall. You had to suppress a yelp from tearing through you. The Mark on his arm glowed, and you had to calm yourself down. This is my Dean. He doesn’t want to hurt me. That’s why he ran out. By the time you phased back into reality, he had already pushed the lamp off his bedside table and knocked the things off of the shelf above his bed. You couldn’t believe he was wrecking his bedroom like this. The bedroom he was so happy to finally have when we moved here. The bedroom that must have felt so empty ever since you stopped sleeping next to him. 

“Dean…”  

“Leave.” He growled, grabbing his arm and clenching his right hand into a fist as if trying to suppress the angry Mark. His back was to you, but you could see his head was bowed and his shoulders slumped. He looked so… small. “(Y/N), if you don’t leave, I’ll leave. I’ll go far away until the Mark is gone, somewhere where I can’t hurt you.” He turned towards the doorway and his eyes caught yours. He immediately seemed ashamed that he'd broken down like that in front of you, and tore his eyes away from you, staring straight ahead instead and finding his own eyes staring back at him in the mirror.

"Dean, we need to talk." 

"What is there to talk about? I hurt you. I r…" Dean took a breath, steadying himself on the small sink under his mirror. His voice shook in fear of what he was about to say. "I raped you.” You watched his face twist into anger as he stared at himself in the mirror. You couldn’t stand watching him hate himself.

“Dean…” you tried to get his attention, but it seemed like he was too far gone. You jumped back when his fist crashed to the mirror, shattering his reflection into a million pieces. He took a few steps backwards and sat down at the foot of his bed, sucking in deep breaths and tears running down his face. It seemed like he had calmed down, at least enough to talk with you, so you hesitantly took a seat next to him. “Dean. Please.” No matter how awkward it was to be so close to him again, he needed comfort, and you weren’t just going to sit here and watch him cry. You moved your hands to cup his face and pulled him down to rest on your shoulder, dragging your fingers across his scalp like you knew he loved. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” He murmured it to you over and over like a mantra, as if it would make everything alright again. After a few minutes, he pulled away and looked down at you with watery green eyes. “Why don’t you hate me for this?” 

“I could never hate you. It hurts, yeah, and sometimes it’s hard to be close to you. But I still love you.” A tiny smile started to lift the corners of Dean’s lips, but he pushed it away. 

“Don’t just brush this off like it was nothing.”

“I’m not brushing it off. Dean, you weren’t… you. You were a demon. Trust me, if the circumstances were different, and we were normal, I would have left because of that. But we’re hunters- we have a fucked up life. You were literally a demon.  I’m not going to blame the man I love for something he couldn’t control.” You leaned over, resting your head against his bicep, remembering how you used to do this all the time. “I’ve spent this whole month trying my best to move forward from it. I thought today I… I ripped the bandaid off, ya know? Don’t put it back on.” Dean was quiet for a moment before finally letting a small smile lift his beautiful lips.

“You really forgive me for this?”

“I never blamed you. But, I don’t know if I’ll ever forget about it. I love you. I just… still see a demon sometimes when I look at you. You’ll have to be patient with me.” You laughed bitterly before looking back up at him. “I think part of the reason I avoided you was so that I wouldn’t have to tell you what happened. ‘Cause I’m trying to forget about it. I really want to look past this. I want to be comfortable around you again. I want to hug you again. I want to kiss you again, Dean.” 

“Can I… hug you?” 

“Please.” Slowly, tantalizingly, he wrapped his big arms around you, pulling you into his chest and tucking your head under his chin. You arms found their way under his jacket, closer to the warmth of his body. You nuzzled your face into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent for the first time in months and feeling his fingers glide through your hair gently. This was Dean. God, this was the same Dean who you’d lost months ago. Wrapped up all warm and cozy against his chest, you became hyper-aware of your heart and his beating against each other- a soft rhythm in the otherwise quiet room. “We’ll get through this. I know we will.”

“(Y/N), I’m so, so sorry for all of this. I miss you. God, I miss you so much. I’ll wait for you, forever, if I have to. I just need you to promise me we’ll be alright.”

“Dean, I promise. Just hold on for me, baby.”

“As long as you need.” And he did.

So yeah, the ghost of this memory might leave you hurting for a while, but you’ll be damned if you’re gonna let that stop you from loving Dean. You and Dean both knew how to kill ghosts, so it didn’t stand a chance against your love. Soon, it would flicker from view, and then...

...then, you’ll live a long life with the man who you always loved, and who you always will love- Dean Winchester.

"The ghosts that we knew made us blackened or blue, but we'll live a long life. And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view, and we'll live a long life."

-Ghosts That We Knew, Mumford and Sons

Taglist: not tagging anyone because of potentially triggering content

[georgialouisea]

Christmas Eve

Pairing - Dean x Reader, Sam, ofcs family.

Word Count - 1.9k

Warnings - Swearing, Dean being a cutie, Christmas chaos.

Summary - Going home for Christmas was always interesting with a big family, taking Dean with you was sure to make it different. 

A/N - Requested by the lovely @sweetlittlespine I’ve tweaked your request a little bit but I hope you enjoy x 

“No, we’ll be okay you have enough people to feed.”

“Y/N, you’re not seriously missing Christmas for the first time in over 30 years?” You heard your Mother stop moving around the kitchen down the phone.

“Well, I don’t really want to travel alone -”

“Bring Dean, we haven’t met him yet, problem solved.”

“That means his brother will be alone on Christmas and I can’t do that to Sam.”

“So bring him too, It’s not like we don’t have enough food or space.” She was almost begging now.

“You really want to feed over twenty people on Christmas day?”

“Yes I do and I want you sat at the table with the mysterious Winchesters, who I am dying to meet.”

“Fine,”

“Yes?”

“Yes! We’ll be there.”

“Call me when you’re leaving so I can move the kids around and give you two rooms.”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Dean walked into the library two mugs of coffee in his hands. “Who was that?”

Taking one of the mugs dropping your phone to the table you silently prepared yourself for his reaction. The Winchesters didn’t do Christmas, last year they’d stayed at the bunker while you went home to your insane large family. “Erm it was my Mom, she’s asked us to go to theirs for Christmas, Sam too and I’ve said yes.”

“You’ve what?” He asked sitting down next to you.

“Sorry, I should have asked but I could hear her getting upset and so I just said yes.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s one year, you can give me that right?”

“Okay, yeah okay.” He nodded slowly, bringing the mug to his lips he sat bolt upright, eyes wide. “Fuck!”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m going to meet your Mom and Dad.”

“Yeah…”

“Oh for fuck sake.”

“What’s so wrong with meeting them? You charm everyone you meet, they’ll love you.”

“What the hell are you shouting about?” Sam asked walking into the library.

“Oh, well we’re going to my parent’s house for Christmas, you’re coming too, well if you want to.”

“Yeah, are you sure there’s enough room you have what 7 siblings?”

“There’s plenty she’ll lump the younger ones in together so we can have a room each.”

“As long as she’s happy with it, yeah, so what’s up with him?” Sam nodded towards his brother who was still frozen.

“He’s just realised he’ll be meeting my family.”

“Oh, what’s the big issue?”

“Her Dad punched her ex-boyfriend in the face.”

“I forgot about that, Daniel was an asshole who cheated on me, you have nothing to worry about.” Kissing his cheek you got up heading off to your room to start packing.

-

“Dean seriously calm down, you’re going to be fine.” Taking Dean’s hand you stood next to him on the porch freezing your ass off waiting for someone to answer the door, the volume of noise beyond it telling you, you were in for yet another loud Christmas.

The door opened Millie stood looking up at you. “Y/N!” She squealed, jumping up you caught her as she continued to reach a pitch that made your eye twitch.

“Yes, I’m home oh my God stop making that noise!”

“Mom!” She screamed down your ear.

“Oh for -” Dropping her to her feet she ran off into the house. “And it begins, welcome to the madhouse.” Taking a step inside you were nearly knocked off your feet by the twins Alex and Tom as the ten-year-olds chased each other. “Hey watch it.”

“Y/N!” They spun facing you immediately jumping on you, sending you tumbling to the floor. “Y/N’s home!” Alex shouted.

More footsteps and two more on the pile on you were tapping out, your Dad peeling kids off you.

“Get off your sister, she hasn’t even walked in the door and you’re on her!” He pulled Alex and Tom off you, holding his hand out you took it he helped you to your feet. “Welcome home, darling.” He gave you a hug, his attention moving to the open door and the two Winchesters stood outside. “Come in boys.” He waved over your shoulder letting you go.

Both boys shuffled into the house knocking snow off their shoes onto the mat.

“Dad this is Sam and this is Dean, my boyfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir.” Dean stepped forwards extending his hand.

“You too son, you looking after her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Sam took a step forwards shaking your Dad’s hand as he let go of you.

“Dean.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Stop calling me sir, it’s Paul.”

“Paul.” Dean nodded.

“So do you boys want a drink? Beer? Whiskey?”

“Whiskey please.” Dean smiled at your Father his arm slipping around your waist.

With a nod, he walked off towards the kitchen.

Turning to face Dean you tried not to laugh. “See told you, he likes you.”

-

“So, Y/N hasn’t told us what you two do.” Your Mom smiled at the boys as you all sat in the lounge.

It wasn’t a lie you had never told your Mother what your boyfriend did as a day job, there wasn’t really a plausible explanation, how do you tell your Mother your boyfriend hunts monsters without sounding insane.

“We help people, we travel a lot.”

“That’s pretty vague.” Your Father looked him up and down.

“It’s all I can really tell you.” Dean smiled trying to avoid the question.

“So when can we visit you guys, I can’t wait to see your house?” Your Mom asked with a smile.

“Erm, whenever you want.” Dean glanced at Sam. “It’s pretty unique.”

“Well have to make a trip in the New year to see you, won’t we Paul.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He smiled at you.

“Right who wants another drink?” Standing up your Mom held her hand out for your wine glass as everyone answered with a “me”.

“I’ll help you, Sandra.” Sam stood up grabbing Dean’s glass.

“When you get married can I be a bridesmaid?” Millie looked up at you with a grin on her face.

“What?” You looked at her wide-eyed, Dean chuckled next to you.

“If we ever get married you can be a bridesmaid.” Dean’s answer made your heart skip a beat, sure you’d talked about getting married but never properly it was always in passing or just mentioned.

“Yay!” Millie squealed jumping up hugging you.

“What’d I miss?” Your mom returned with 2 full glasses of wine shortly followed by Sam and 3 glasses of whiskey.

“I’m going to be a bridesmaid!”

Your Mother’s eyes growing wide as she handed you the glass. “Are you engaged? Where’s the ring? Oh my God.”

“No ring, no proposal, not engaged, Millie asked if we get married can she be a bridesmaid that’s all.” You quickly tried to defuse the situation before it turned into a wedding planning session.

“Oh, oh, well that would be lovely wouldn’t it, Millie it’s past your bedtime, come on let’s get you up to bed before Santa comes tonight.” Putting her wine glass on the table she held her hand out for her to take. “You too boys come on off to bed.” She rounded up the kids leaving you with the Winchesters, your Dad and two eldest siblings.

Spending time with your family like this was a rarity so you were going to cherish it whenever you could. Talking and drinking for a few hours your brothers had tapped out at around 10pm leaving your parents and the boys. Your Mom and Dad were genuinely interested in them asking countless questions about their lives and childhood, not all of it happy.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night.” Your Mom stood up swaying slightly. “Paul?”

“Yep I’m coming up now if you guys staying are down here just make sure you’re not down here in the morning? I don’t need Millie finding your drunk asses down here.”

“We’re coming up now, Sam I’ll show you your room.”

“Paul, do you want a hand locking up?” Dean asked your Dad.

“Sure son.”

Dean tried to hide the smile on his face but failed, showing how happy he was to be accepted with a grin.

You got Sam settled in your brother’s room it was the only room with a bed big enough to house the giant for the night.

Dean was doing lord knows what with your Dad downstairs, it was nearly midnight when he walked into your room.

“Where have you been?”

“Helping your Dad.”

“Locking up doesn’t take half an hour, were you two secret drinking?”

“What? No.”

“Sure.” Watching him walk across the room to his bag he stripped off his jeans and shirt, pulling a grey t-shirt out he pulled it on before crawling into bed next to you, pausing he dropped his phone onto the bedside table. “You smell like whiskey.” Nuzzling against his chest his arms wrapped around you.

“Cause I’ve been drinking it.”

“I know, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You know if we don’t get married Millie’s going to be pissed, be prepared for a six-year-old to beat you up.”

“I’ll prepare myself.” Dean chuckled.

“I’m sure you’ll have a while to prepare yourself.”

“What does that mean? Do you not want to get married?” Dean pulled away slightly as he looked down at you.

“Well I do, I really do but I mean is it really an option for us? We’re hunters how many hunters do you know who are happily married?”

“Bobby was, my Mom and Dad were -”

“Dean they both ended tragically.”

“But they loved each other so much when they were alive, we can have that, I love you so much.”

“You want to get married huh?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Dean smiled down at you.

Glancing over Dean’s shoulder you looked at the alarm clock, only a few minutes left of Christmas Eve. “It’s nearly Christmas day.”

“Close your eyes,” Dean whispered kissing your forehead.

“What?”

“Close your eyes I have a surprise for you.”

“Dean all your presents are downstairs I don’t have anything to give you.”

“It’s fine, I don’t want anything other than for you to close your eyes.”

“This best be good.” Closing your eyes Dean left you on the bed.

“I think you’ll like it.” You could hear that he was smiling. “Okay sit up but keep your eyes closed.”

“What the hell is it?”

“Just keep your eyes closed.” You could hear him rolling his eyes, something dropped to the floor. “Open your eyes, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, you are the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, when you crashed through the front door of that house in Ohio I knew I was done for, you’re beautiful, strong, funny, beautiful, you’re so beautiful and I have no idea why you put up with me but you do and I’m so thankful that you do, you’re the reason I wake up every day, so I can wake up next to you and know I’m not alone in this, that I have you, Y/N will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Squealing you threw yourself off the bed towards him. “God yes!”

“Yes?” His fingertips tucked hair behind your ear as you straddled his lap. “You said yes?”

“Yes, yes I’ll marry you, God yes.” Leaning down kissing him his hand slipped down cupping your cheek before pulling away. “The ring.”

“What?”

“Do you like your ring?” He asked, in the heat of the moment you hadn’t even looked at the ring. “If you don’t like it we can get something you like.” He held the small velvet box towards you a beautiful silver diamond ring sparkled up at you.

“I love it, oh Dean it’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

“Happy Christmas baby.”

“Happy Christmas.”

Tags- 

Forever Taglist - 

@mega-loser1298 @smalltowndivaj @roxyspearing @emoryhemsworth @dwgrl1903 @cassieraider @mirandaaustin93 @mogaruke @heyitscam99 @mouselovesmusic @supernaturaldean67 @atc74 @witchofenoch @malindacath @skathan-omaha @ain-t-bovvered @beffyblueeyes @unicorn-sparkles123 @serienjunkiegirl @jchona @polina-93 @thefangirlliveson @rhochradel @juanitadiann @amandamdiehl @dixonsunicorn @deanzeppeloin @katieelementarymydearwatsonme @atlas-of-the-world @spnbaby-67 @chelsea072498 @dean-winchesters-bacon @racheo91 @mrswhozeewhatsis @death-unbecomes-you @brewsthespirit-blog @shann-the-artist-moon @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @claitynroberts @spnwoman @angelsandwinchesters @smoothdogsgirl @cdwmtjb8 @perkypolarbear @thisismysecrethappyplace @tatertot1097 @jessieray98 @curly-haired-disaster @gh0stgurl @starfirerules @kcrews74 @calaofnoldor @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @screechingartisancashbailiff @malindacath @kolelondon24 @supernatural-crazed-girl @natura1phenomenon @thehufflepuffblog @lemondropirwin @babypink224221 @mariekoukie6661

Dean Taglist -

@akshi8278 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @dramaqueenrolf @itsallaboutthedean @shadowysandwichcreator @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @lisssays @ruprecht0420 @hobby27 @05spn18 @stevieboyharrington @aussiefangirlwolfy @destiel-equals-life @waywardrose13 @supernatural13-13 @vickyfarley @musiclovinchic93 @spnskinnyballs @adoptdontshoppets @parksandrecmyass @brightestflame @hhiggs

[doraspn]

15x03 not-quite-coda

or how dean is forced to listen to love songs until he gets his head out of his ass

dean wakes up to the song earth angel on full blast. dean reaches for his phone to make the noise stop but it’s not coming from his phone. it’s also 4 fucking am. he’s mad. he rushes to the kitchen and sam’s right where he expected him to be, leaning against the counter drinking coffee and staring at the floor, feeling fucking awful and unable to sleep. he looks up at dean who storms in like a madman. dean shouts over the song, asking what the fuck. sam is confused and apparently has no idea what’s going on and why dean’s shouting at full volume. dean looks like he’s most likely losing it. 

cas leaves the bunker and goes to a bar because he’s heartbroken and doesn’t know what else to do and dean always goes to bars. even though he said he needs to move on it’s not that simple okay. a drag queen approaches him and cas realises it’s a gay bar but it makes no difference to him anyway so he sits down and orders a whiskey because the smell of it is somehow both comforting and heart wrenching. he lets the drag queen ask him about his break up. he doesn’t even bother to clarify (clarify what though?) and without anyone else to lean on he figures he doesn’t have anything more to lose so he just tells her e v e r y t h i n g and halfway through him recounting the last “conversation” he had with dean, the drag queen is like bitch what did he say to you? and she is having none of it so she buys both of them shots and they proceed to trash talk dean.

back in the bunker sam and dean are now aware that the song is coming from inside dean’s head and they are confused. sam is researching what it could be: curse, hex, trickster, this that something else? while dean is just sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. but they can’t seem to make it stop. the only change is that after the umpteenth time earth angel played in succession, mr sandman by chordettes started playing on repeat instead. sam is concerned, of course he is, according to what dean told him the songs are really really loud but he also finds it kind of amusing, he can’t help it. he asks dean what he did last night before going to bed, if he remembers anything strange. they have no shortage of enemies but it’s best to start with the basics, the answer could be closer than it seems. dean is convinced this is some sort of sick joke from chuck. sam isn’t so sure, though he isn’t sure why. 

cas feels a little better and less stressed, and with the encouragement of monique bedazzle, quite drunk too. he should be concerned about the state of his angel powers but he’s too busy laughing at monique calling dean all kinds of swear word related names. he thinks it’s nice to have someone to be mad for you, even when you can’t quite bring yourself to be. in the haze cas isn’t even aware he’s been talking about hunting and monsters and being an angel but monique probably thinks it’s just the alcohol talking.

dean can’t remember a single thing he did differently last night. what is sam even on about. did he use too much toothpaste and somehow inadvertently ended up cursing himself into listening to do you love me over and over and over again? sam tries to summarize what they know so far: only dean can hear the music, it’s very loud (extremely fucking loud, dean corrects), the songs do change, albeit at an inconsistent rate, and they all seem to be 50s and 60s love songs.

monique puts a hand on cas’ shoulder, tells him to forget about dean’s bitchass and pushes away the whiskey glass in front of him with a cocktail, complete with a little dick on a stick instead of an umbrella. cas smiles sadly at the drink and thanks her. his angel powers must still be there because the buzz of the alcohol he consumed is now replaced with the gentle buzz of what remains of his angelic essence. monique gives cas a little nudge and tells him “sam spade, angel, darling, it’s time to move on!” but one look into cas’ eyes and she knows he will never move on.

dean is slamming his head against the table and taking the time it takes his head to reach the surface to inform sam that he can’t fucking take it anymore when devil in disguise starts playing for the 68th time. there is a millisecond of radio silence upon impact, as if his brain loses the signal for a moment. sam is growing more and more concerned now. while it was amusing for the first 5 hours, now in hour 15 it’s going on gruesome. he is typing frivolously, calling people left and right, desperately trying to find a solution. what the fuck is actually going on.   

cas finds some strange comfort in the lazy way the bar staff shuffles around him as they prepare the bar for closing. it’s how he felt around dean. an unmoving fixture, always stuck in one place, as dean’s life happened all around him; always watching him, never quite participating. monique went to change out of her drag. it’s quiet but for the occasional sounds of chairs scraping across the wooden floor. he doesn’t know where to go or what to do next. a glance at the clock tells cas it’s 3:43 am, not that it means anything to him.

it’s not until late that night that dean finally gets a break. there is a short moment of absolute silence which makes dean’s head snap up. sam notices and he immediately tenses, asking dean what’s happening. then a new song comes on, but this time the volume is not obnoxiously loud. as elvis speaks the lyrics and now the stage is bare and i’m standing there with emptiness all around, and if you won’t come back to me then they can bring the curtain down the volume drops lower and lower. the song ends, and so does dean’s inner playlist.

the bar is completely empty when michael returns to cas’ side. cas is sitting still as a rock, staring at the untouched cocktail in front of him. michael’s smiling as he pulls cas to his feet, telling him he’s crashing at the bedazzle pad tonight. 

dean is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. he’s finally convinced sam he’s fine and that he’ll find him if the music starts blaring in his brain again. the headache isn’t too bad, surprisingly. he finds the quiet strange after a whole day of loud, inescapable noise. it feels clearer, like the violent sounds swept his head clear of dusty thoughts that have been there since forever. he doesn’t know how long this moment clarity will last but there is something powerful about the way cas’ name echoes inside it, and he lets himself dwell on that.

michael opens his front door and cas shuffles in politely. he doesn’t even think of potential danger. the fact that he basically told this stranger everything about himself doesn’t quite reach him at the moment. he’s too dazed. michael takes off his shoes and cas follows suit. soon enough he finds himself sitting on a comfortable sofa in a warm living room with a cup of hot coco to warm his hands on, his socked feet resting on the fuzzy cow print carpet under his feet. the socks were a present from dean, buy one get one free, ridiculous porn noodle mishmash design. michael asks cas for his phone. in the background, heartbreak hotel plays.

the next morning dean and sam are having breakfast. dean is a bit consumed with some of his new thoughts so he accidentally spills a full carton of milk all over the kitchen floor. sam understands, the guy had a pretty rough day yesterday. he prompts dean to see if he thought of anything. dean is confused for a bit before realizing that sam is talking about what caused the musical hell he had going on the day before. sam is surprised to learn that dean doesn’t really care that much about what caused it. he watches dean as he fills his bowl with a variety of cereal. dean’s back alright, he thinks.

by the time cas’ phone reaches full charge, michael and he have already devoured most of the waffles which only somewhat taste like molecules. michael’s phone vibrates and with a glint in his eye, he types a response. 

return to sender

address unknown

no such person, no such zone

dean is staring at his phone, frowning. sam looks up from his laptop and asks what’s wrong. dean’s worried now.

cas is surprised as he stands in michael’s pantry. heart of a goat is not something humans keep in a jar inside their homes, he is pretty certain of that. he was only really looking for the bathroom because michael sent him on a quest for a “blue plastic container, pink flowers on the side, rattles a bit when shaken”.

sam looks at dean’s phone, then at dean, then back at the screen. i don’t think cas... no, cas no, dean finishes his thought. the words definitely not cas echo in his mind. but who?

michael thanks cas as he takes the potato salad from his hands. even cas can tell the dinner’s well made. michael jokes that he didn’t prepare any animal hearts this time, but there’s always the next. cas isn’t quite sure why he trusts the witch. perhaps it’s the bad jokes.

the day passes without any real incidents. neither brother is any closer to figuring out what’s happening. every text sent to cas’ phone comes back a lyric. dean stares at the latest one.

tomorrow will be too late

it’s now or never

my love won’t wait

cas finds himself in the gay bar again. michael is getting ready for the performance so he’s sitting alone at the bar.

dean snatches the phone from sam’s hands and presses call. instead of castiel he finds a woman’s voice on the other side of the line.

thank you for calling HeadShot, please choose one of the following options:

if you’d like to inquire about our membership program, press 1

if you’re interested in becoming part of our stage or floor staff, press 2

if you’d like to get your head out of your ass and see castiel again, press 3

dean frowns at the phone but chooses number three anyway.

sam asks him what he’s doing. dean pulls up a chair, sits down and starts by telling sam about the first time he’s ever felt scared of himself. sam does what he does best, he listens.

monique gets up on stage to check that everything is ready for the first act of the night. she checks her watch. from where she’s standing she has a very clear view of the front door. it’s almost 10. showtime.

dean finds himself staring at the neon sign proudly shining above the door. the penis surrounded by shot glasses filled with white liquid does seem a tad overkill but who is he to judge. he takes a deep breath to steady himself and straightens his jacket. 

“whiskey, double” comes the order and the bartender nods in response. cas turns, his eyes meeting a pair of handsome green ones. and with that, cas is forced to acknowledge he has a type.

dean’s relieved. the inside is not what he imagined, but he doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as he expected. it’s all somehow new, even the old flannel shirt he’s wearing feels like a new skin on his body. it doesn’t take long to spot cas. or to notice the man leaning uncomfortable close to him with a sly smile on his face. or is it uncomfortable only for him? sam was right, he’s jealous. dean guesses it has always been jealousy. he can’t believe it took a day of being forced to listen to awfully loud mid century hits for him to realize that. or to realize any of that other crap he’s been keeping from himself. he’s disappointed in himself. really, really disappointed. but it’s okay. he’s got this, right?

cas looks up and immediately notices dean. just standing there, almost within arms reach. cas thinks that perhaps he’s overdone it with the alcohol but remembering josh’s words from mere seconds ago he is reminded that he hasn’t actually drank anything all night. as he stares at dean, the dull ache flares up and his whole being starts pulsing underneath the surface of his skin. will he actually explode? he never thought he’d be seeing him again, but there he is.

dean looks to the right as the first notes reach his ears. a drag queen in a bright purple sequenced dress is standing on the stage, singing the words whatever will be, will be. he smiles, more to himself than anyone else. chuck can go fuck himself honestly, because there is something fantastic about life and it’s got nothing to do with the pompous prick.

cas can only stare into dean’s eyes, as if he’s spelunking in them, looking for something. something that will make it all more than just okay. next to him, he can feel josh uncomfortably shift as dean approaches their table. but dean doesn’t look away so neither does he. 

dean smiles, soft, slightly unsure and offers his hand. 

cas promised himself he wouldn’t budge until he gets a full written apology. then for days he wouldn’t so much as look at dean. he would not make it easy for the fantasy dean who would come to him, begging him to come back. but cas’ allows himself something he hasn’t allowed himself lately, he reads what’s written in dean’s eyes and he accepts dean’s hand.

dean’s smile grows. there’s sadness beneath it. and fear. cas knows now. the man who didn’t believe he deserved to be saved all those years ago never started believing. cas thought he was telling him, screaming it but he himself also fell victim to the same mindset. 

who knows, perhaps together they can convince each other that they’re both worth saving. maybe it will all be more than okay.

que sera sera, what will be, will be

[randomwordsandstormydays]

The One Where Livy Loses Her Dad

Here’s the first thing I’ve written for one of my OCs. This is the scene/situation that leads to Livy “Crow” Larson joining the Railroad. Please read and let me know what you think.

TW: character death, graphic depictions of violence

As the stone path that marks her home comes into view a vague sense of wrongness slides down Livy’s spine. It sends a shiver across her body and she picks up her pace, being extra careful to scan for the ferals that are attracted to this area. Her eyes dart back and forth quickly, soaking in details of her homestead. All seems to be in order and her shoulders drop, tension sliding out of them.

She’s about to call out for her father, to let him know that she’s home safe, when a man materializes out of thin air, surrounded by a bright blue light. Her arm comes up to block the brightness from her eyes and by the time she lowers it the figure is gone, and the front door to her house is swinging shut.

What the fuck?

Immediately, she shifts on her heel and takes off for the side of her house, where the windows will give her a view into the rooms on the first floor. As she approaches she can hear voices, one of which she recognizes as her father’s, the other she cannot identify. Her grip tightens on her pistol as she hears the fear in her dad’s voice. Never has he sounded like that before.

“What are you doing here?” It’s impossible for her to even picture the look that her dad must be wearing, the uncertainty that must be in his eyes. It seems like he knows this man, but is scared of him just the same.

“F3-27, your mission has been terminated. You are to report back to Dr. Ayo for memory wiping and relocation.”

Livy’s heart skips a beat from inside her chest at the implication that the strange man inside her home has just made. Her father is a synth? That’s what that string of letters and numbers mean, right?

“No, that’s not right. I’ve only been here a year.”

Blood pounds in Livy’s ears as the confirmation worms its way into her heart. Her dad was replaced by a synth copy a year ago. Suddenly, it all makes sense.

Her whole life her father had been distant and cold, only doing the bare minimum to keep her alive. Nothing she did was ever good enough for him, and it was clear to her that he only stayed out of loyalty to her dead mother. It was hard for her to blame him, according to their neighbors she was nearly identical to the woman that had birthed her, and she was positive that the physical reminder she presented is what kept him from being the dad she needed him to be. Still, it hurt.

Even though she knew that nothing she ever did would be enough, she still tried. Every task she was given, she mastered, her attempt at pleasing him. No one she knew could match her skills with a pistol, and she was an expert shot with a rifle. Any random assortment of food items could be dropped in her lap and she could cook them into something delicious. She trained herself to be observant, not wanting to miss out on any scrap or supplies because they might be hidden from plain view. The caravaners were so impressed with her sewing that they often paid her extra caps to fix up garments anytime they came by, so that they could sell them for more money later on down the line. Over and over again she proved that she was the best at any task she could be given.

Still, he never thanked her for her hard work, never smiled at her like she belonged, never once did he say that he was proud of her.

Then, one day, it all changed. Her father had left three days prior for a trip to Bunker Hill, and when he came home, he was a different man. The door swung open when she was halfway through cooking dinner, but she still turned to welcome him, even though she knew that she was more likely to get ignored than to be acknowledged. She dropped the bowl she was carrying in shock when he smiled at her.

The glass shattering jolted her out of her staring and she dropped to the floor, apologizing for her clumsiness. When her father knelt down next to her and began to help her pick up the pieces she froze, unable to move. She watched, brows drawn tightly downwards and mouth partially open, as he gently pried the glass off the floor and then took the large shards from her own palms. Her body had not moved an inch by the time he returned from the trashcan and he looked down at her. She recognized confusion in the tilt of his head and the raise of his brow, she had seen that look before, but etched into his cheeks and eyes was also the presence of amusement.

“Livy, what are you doing on the floor, still?” Before she could answer his face shifted into one of concern. “Are you hurt? Did any of the glass cut you?” He dropped to his knees in front of her and took her writs gently in his hands before turning them over to look for injury.

She can’t recall the last time her father actually touched her. Her muscles begin to thaw as he inspected her for any cuts, and by the time he’s done her limbs are working normally again.

“No, I’m not hurt. Just shocked is all.” He let her pull back and stand up, didn’t try and stop her at all. That answer must satisfy him because he stood and began to clear the table, she turned back to the pot of food and continued stirring.

“As long as you’re okay, that’s what matters.” From behind her she heard him take in a deep breath. “What is that? It smells amazing.”

Her voice wavered a bit when she answered. “It’s ragstag stew with tatos, carrots, and some mutfruit.” His response is little more than a humming sound, but for some reason it brought a smile onto her face.

From that night on, he was the father she had always dreamed of. He complimented her abilities, thanked her for everything she did around the home, and told her at least once a week how proud of her he was. It was everything she ever wanted.

Now, a year later, she knows exactly why, because the man that came home that day wasn’t her father.

The strange man’s voice jerks her out of her memories. “Your presence here is no longer required. You will comply, or I will use your recall code.”

“Please, please just let me say goodbye to my daughter.” The pleading tone has tears springing into her eyes. It doesn’t matter that he’s not her biological father, he was a parent to her in all the ways that mattered. So what if he’s a synth? The man in there pleading to say goodbye to her is her dad, no matter what anyone else says. She has to find a way to save him.

As she sneaks along the wall towards her back door the conversation continues. “That girl is not your daughter, you are not her father. In fact, you are not even a real person.”

Anger bubbles up from inside her, fuck that guy, what does he know?

“She’ll worry if I’m gone, at least let me write her a note, something, anything.”

The desperation she senses is foreign and it scares her, because he’s right. If she had come home and he was gone, no note, no letter, no holotape, she would worry. That worry would have turned to panic if he didn’t come home that night. Her panic would turn to desperation when he didn’t come home for a few days. And when he didn’t come home after a week she would have taken off to go find him, completely unaware that her search would have been useless, since he had been taken.

The backdoor has a screen, and through it she can finally see what’s going on. Her father is dressed in his field clothes, covered in dirt and on his knees, facing her. His eyes don’t drop down to look at her, though, his focus is fully on the other man in the room. Her heart pounds a little harder and a lot faster when she takes in the intruder.

He has to be at least six feet tall, broad shoulders betray the muscles that she can tell are hidden under his heavy leather jacket, and his hands do not waver in the slightest as they hold a laser pistol, which is pointed directly at her dad.

“That is not authorized. This is your final chance, comply or be reset.”

Her hand is on the doorknob, ready to turn it, ready to risk her life and try and fight this stranger, when she finally makes eye contact with the synth that replaced her father. She can see his fear heighten, and she feels tears prick behind her vision. It clicks then that he’s not scared for himself, he’s scared for her.

It’s easy for her to see the moment he gives up. His eyes dart away from hers, shame the last thing she sees in them, the tightness in his posture fades away until he’s slumped in on himself, head lowered in defeat, and his voice is broken when he speaks.

“I’ll comply.”

Adrenaline courses through Livy’s body, she has to do something, has to stop this. She won’t let him be taken. The door hits the wall with a crack so loud it continues to ring in her ears even as she stands to her full height and aims her pistol at the man. She can hear her dad’s shouts of protest but they fall on deaf ears. Time seems to slow for her as she fires her weapon. Three shots that make three direct hits to the chest.

Fear overtakes her when the man doesn’t react, like he doesn’t even feel the bullets.

“Livy, run. He’ll kill you.” Her father’s desperate cries reach her, but they’re too late. There’s no time for her to escape, because the man is already on her.

The gun is knocked from her hands before she can even attempt to fire again, and it clatters on the floor out of her view. The pistol is the least of her worries, though, because in that same second her oxygen is cut off as the man’s hands wrap around her throat and begin to squeeze. The sound she makes rings in her ears and reminds her of a wounded animal, scared and full of fear. In the next second she’s flying, airborne and weightless, until her back strikes the wall, followed closely by her skull. She hits the floor hard and feels her ribs break.

It takes everything she has in her to try and stand, but she slips on her own blood and crashes back to the ground. She looks up and sees the laser pistol pointing at her face, and realizes that she’s going to die. Her eyes close involuntarily, possibly her brain’s way of protecting her in the only way that it can, then she hears a gun go off.

When she opens her eyes she’s disgusted to see that the man’s head is half blown off, but she’s horrified upon the realization that he’s still not dead. What the hell is this guy, another synth?

“Get the hell away from my daughter.” Her dad’s voice brings comfort, but it doesn’t last long. The man, who she is now fully convinced is another synth, turns away from her. Her dad is standing, holding her gun, but looking at her. There’s sorrow written all over his expression, and dizziness is beginning to wash over her.

Instead of charging at her father, like she expected, the synth begins to speak, lowly but also clearly and calmly. “F3-27, recall code-”

Livy doesn’t hear the rest, too focused on the words that her father is mouthing.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Then, he slumps over. His head lowers down and his arms drop the gun, they fall next to his body like when the strings of a puppet get cut. He doesn’t breathe, he no longer looks alive.

“Dad?” Her voice is wrecked, mostly from the damage done to her throat, but also from the tears that are building. “Dad?” He doesn’t answer, and neither does the invader. Her calls and cries are ignored, her pleading is not answered. She is helpless, lying on the floor in her own blood, bleeding and broken, as another flash of blue light fills her home. When her eyes adjust she is alone. The darkness calls for her, and she falls into it.

- - -

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