We Will Always Be Family:: An "I'm really upset about Merlin" Fanfiction
The Fandoms had gathered. One of them was ending. They would still be there, true, but it would be an existence without.
Sherlock, Doctor Who, and Supernatural gathered around Merlin. The young, five-season-old Fandom shivered, eyes wide and scared.
“I’m frightened. I don’t want to end. I want to stay with you,” Merlin pleaded, eyes falling on each of the other Fandoms.
The others looked at each other sadly. Doctor Who put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, trying to be as comforting as was possible.
“Don’t worry, we’ll stay right here.”
Merlin swallowed hard and nodded. “Until the end. P-please stay.”
“Of course,” said Sherlock.
Supernatural nodded in agreement. “We stick by family.”
Merlin’s eyes darted around, trying to find something, anything, that might help. The Fandom’s gaze fell on two new figures watching on, their expressions sad, but smiles on their lips.
“I-Who…?”
“We’re the Fandoms whose shows and books ended. I’m Firefly and this is Harry Potter. You’ll be with us soon. Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.” The words of the one called Firefly nearly brought fresh tears to Merlin’s eyes.
“Will it hurt? Will it hurt when it… when I…” voice shaking, Merlin’s bleary gaze dropped.
“No, it’s easy. Peaceful in a way. No more plot developments, no more character deaths. After your last episode, it will be easy. Just like falling asleep.” It was Harry Potter that spoke.
Both of the new Fandom’s stepped towards the frightened Merlin.
“I can see them. The ones that have gone before,” Merlin whispered, giving Supernatural a panicked look. “I can see them.”
“That’s good. Listen to them, let them guide you through this.” Sherlock turned slightly, watching Firefly and Harry Potter. “Help Merlin,” the Fandom nodded.
“We will,” the two chorused.
“Don’t leave me alone,” Merlin said again, feeling panicky, but also tired. “Don’t leave me.”
“We’re all here for you. Forever.”
—-
Oh god. I’ve made myself cry. Okay, so this was inspired by this post. I am so sorry. I just have a lot of emotions.
The Show Must Go On :: A Cockles Fic (Part I)
Misha giggled and dashed away from the stage. It was set up for the fan talk-back that afternoon, and he’d snuck on early to add a couple of his own touches to Jensen’s place. He grinned gleefully and hopped away from the raised platform, surveying his handy work. And all in time to get back to the hotel and grab a shower before curtains.
“Lights, camera, action!”
—
Jensen pulled a hand over his face with a groan. He had no wish to go see the adoring crowds of fans today. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, because that wasn’t true at all. It was just that his head… and he’d been filming late the week before… and…
The list went on and on.
Plus, there was the whole pranking feud with Misha. And he really wasn’t in a mood to deal with it today.
If he does ANYTHING, he thought, his face half caught between a grimace and a grin, I will DESTROY him with my next prank.
There were rules, of course. No family members could be involved, or show staff. And absolutely NOTHING could involve Jared’s hair. It was like the Holy Grail, and if you did anything to it, God would smite your ass from here to Kingdom Come. And nothing could happen that would damage their careers.
So Jensen went. After running a hand through his hair and pulling on a clean shirt, he left his room to make his way to the stage area.
Yawning, he leaned against the wall as he waited for the elevator to arrive. He checked his watch; 1:45. Perfect. Fifteen minutes before he was due on stage. At this rate, he could have taken the stairs.
“Hey~”
Misha practically bounced up the hallway, grinning from ear-to-ear.
“What’s got you so giddy?” Jensen asked, rolling his eyes at the hint of Dean in his voice. Sometimes, it was hard not to hear the character bleeding through to his actual life. Misha never seemed to have that problem. He was practically the polar opposite of Cas, so he never had to worry about people being able to pick it up in his voice.
“Nothing… Ready for the fan-meet?” Misha asked innocently.
“Sure. They’re always fun…” Jensen narrowed his eyes at the other actor. Typical fluffy brown hair. If eyes could smile, Misha’s definitely were like a ray of sunshine, beaming like an alien spaceship from his face. He looked like Misha. Which was good, right? Nothing would be planned… right?
Nope. Wrong. As Jensen would very soon be finding out.
—-
Ooookay. So this may have to be a multi-part fic. Because I’m falling asleep at my laptop. Anyhoo, here’s part one!
Ugh. Sorry if it sucks >.<
Posting this out of the ask because then I can add it to my fic page n’ stuff.
[What the fuck. I have not fucking clue what to call this. IT'S A DESTIEL PROPOSAL OKAY. A PROPOSAL.]
Castiel had never looked so tired.
It had been months since they’d started officially living together (that mostly meant that they got a motel room separate from Sam), and even long since Castiel had official been booted out of heavy by the almighty.
He appeared to Dean to be constantly worried. About what, the other man could only guess. Though, it didn’t really take a lot of effort to come up with some convincing scenarios.
There had to be a way… Some way of getting his mind away from whatever was troubling it.
So Dean lounged there on the bed, arms casually wrapped around his fallen angel, frowning down at him.
As always, it took Castiel quite a while to realize that something was off. When he finally did notice Dean’s eyes trained on him, he dropped his head back.
“What is it, Dean?” he asked in his typical deeper-than-you’d expect voice.
He had some atrocious bags under his eyes,—had it really been so long and Dean hadn’t noticed him not sleeping?—his hair was messier than normal, and there was a slackness in his face that was worrying.
Dean had been planning something like this for a while, but now seemed like a good time as any. Especially with his angel looking so worn and beaten.
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
Castiel paused, his brow furrowing. “Thinking?”
“Yeah, believe it of not, Sam isn’t always the brains of the operation,” Dean replied, a hand sliding through his hair.
Castiel made a ‘pffft’ noise, rolling his eyes, an action he wouldn’t have thought him capable of a year previously. Maybe even less. No, definitely less.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“No, the other little, winged man laying across my stomach.” It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.
They sat in silence for a long moment.
He did it quick. No elaborate words or anything.
“Cas, marry me.”
“Uh, what?” Castiel sat up, an elbow digging into Dean’s ribs.
“Ow— you heard me. Marry me. If you want. But I mean, I’d marry me—Hey!” Castiel dug his elbow hard and on purpose into his ribs again. Dean half laughed, half groaned in pain. “So? Will you?”
Castiel was silent, looking down on the hunter. He leaned forward quickly, contact his lips to Dean’s. He held them there, extending the kiss. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against Dean’s.
For the first time in several weeks, Castiel gave him a genuine smile.
“Yes. I’ll marry you.”
——-
This is for Riley. Do you realize that over half of everything I write is for your prompts? ily
