#and since we kept of them he still sorta thinks it’s his litter box

[theloveinc]

I’m literally just so fucking sick of have a dirty room

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

The T-Shirt: Part 2

Summary: Y/N lives with her boyfriend (Steve) and their roommate (Bucky). Steve catches Bucky eyeing up his girl while wearing a his t-shirt. Pairing: Established Relationship of Steve Rogers x Female Reader x Bucky Barnes Warning(s): Smut 18+, MMF threesome, kissing, cursing, fingering vaginal and anal, oral sex (female receiving), rimming, vaginal sex, anal sex, dom!steve (sorta) Word Count: 2,922 Notes: Congrats @whirlybirbs for hitting that 6.5K! I tried to tie nostalgia in amongst the relationships between both Bucky and the reader and Bucky and Steve. Thank you for hosting the challenge! :)

It’s finally time for part 2, guys!!!! I had no idea part 1 would have left y’all so hungry for more. It literally made my cheeks blush and my heart sing. Thanks again for @supersoldiersruined-me, light of my life and absolute sweetie, for giving this a look over. Hope this lived up to the expectations.

Previous: “Can I take your semi-hard cock as a yes?” Steve says with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face, eyeing up the prominent bulge in Bucky’s lap. “We both know what this t-shirt does to you.”“That obvious?” he sighs; a grin now breaking through the shock. “Let’s go do something about that, boys.” Y/N says leading the two men by the hand back to the bedroom; glasses of water and cereal bowl left forgotten on the counter. 

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Bucky had been in their room countless times; but that was before Y/N had moved in. He used to barge in as if he owned the place to wake Steve for runs or missions. Hell, he’d slept in the same bed as Steve for the first three months after they’d moved in. The new location had triggered a whole onslaught of nightmares and Steve didn’t mind; reminded him of the old days. He hadn’t been in the room since-

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Steve had been on a three-week mission in god knows where. Bucky had asked her if she wanted a pizza night about two weeks into Steve’s absence.

“The usual?”

“Duh”

“If you put in the order, I can pick it up on the way home from the compound.”

“Sounds good, Buck.”

“Catch up on our show?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He’d walked in the apartment like he had the past two weeks. Keys go in the cute bowl by the door. Shoes go on the shoe rack. That had taken him some getting used to when she moved in.

Before the bowl, he and Steve had spent hours trying to find whatever vague placed they’d thrown their keys before. He’d eyed the shoe rack fondly; seeing your smaller pairs lined up neatly on your rack, which was sandwiched by his above and Steve’s below. The apartment was the closest to a home he’d felt since the 40’s. At least, that’s what he’d thought. When she moved in, he realized how good a home could feel.

“Y/N, I’m home! He called down the hall in a lengthy breath. “With pizza!”

That’s all it takes for him to hear the faint squeak of the mattress. She had run and slid around the corner, socked feet aiding the pursuit of dinner. The near childlike clumsiness had always been endearing to him. She was wearing the t-shirt with a baggy set of sweats. Back then, she’d still been too shy to go without pants near him.

“Gimme gimme gimme!” Snatching the pizza box from his hand, already turning to go back down the hall.

“I resent being demoted to pizza delivery boy!” His attempt to be serious had been thwarted by the throaty chuckle which always seemed to pop up when he was around Y/N.

“A very cute pizza delivery boy.” She set down the slice, two bites missing out of it, and slid back to stand in front of him. “Thank you, love.”

She’d kissed him on the cheek. He’d frozen. She may have noticed but was already running back down the hall to the room she shared with Steve.

“Can we please have a more horizontal pizza and movie night? You know how much the couch hurts my back,” she called back behind her.

Bucky had walked to the bedroom shell-shocked from the kiss. He remembered having to think about the gross way Sam chews his gum to keep his cock from stirring. The attempt was nearly successful, until he stood in the doorway. The site of her frame in that shirt, sitting cross-legged on the bed, the shared show already queued up made his heart swell and shatter.

It was so easy to forget in moments like this. You were Steve’s girl. Not his. The guilt had gnawed at his stomach the entire night. She’d noticed. His supersoldier-appetite seemed absent all evening. He couldn’t remember much of the plot. The guilt hadn’t stopped him from letting her fall asleep in his arms. He’d queued another episode, so the silence didn’t stir her. For one episode you were his girl.

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

The room hadn’t changed a ton since the last night he’d been there; enough changes to see your influence but still it was recognizable. The bed had moved from the east wall to the north. Perhaps that’s why he could hear the moans more graphically. In one of the corners, there was now a compact dressing table littered with makeup brushes, jewelry, and feminine looking perfume bottles. He knew what those bottles would smell like.

It would be the same intoxicating scent which rolled off her in invisible waves; calling him in closer as she led him over to the large bed. The bedspread was one he recognized from shopping trip with him last month. At the time, he’d never have guessed he would have the pleasure of you pushing him back into the soft fabric; sultry smirk on your face as he relaxed back into the pillows. He was too afraid to speak. It was as if any extra words would shatter the illusion.

“Ground rules.” Steve says eyeing up his best friend with an expression Bucky can’t quite read. “What Y/N says goes. Otherwise, I’m fine with everything. Babe?”

“I want this to be as much about you two enjoying one another as enjoying me.”

Bucky sputters out some hybrid of a strangled cough and a moan.

“Buck, I already know Steve’s hard no’s. I’m assuming you do as well?” He still can’t find it in him to form words. She takes his profuse blushing as a yes. “Any triggers for you?” He stares at her in stunned disbelief.

It makes sense Y/N knows about their past sexual contacts; but he had never guessed Steve would be so explicit with her. Bisexual acceptance wasn’t something Bucky had ever experienced back in the day. Nowadays, he was lucky to make it past the first conversation with someone he was interested in. If he had made it further, he doubted they would be okay with him lusting after his best friend of 100 years and his girlfriend.

Steve gives Bucky a chance to answer but senses the need to take charge. “He doesn’t like anything near his neck. No choking. No restraints.”

Y/N sees the two of them make eye contact; speaking without words as they often do. Her heart swells seeing the love they have for one another. Something shifts in Bucky as if he’s accepting the reality of the situation. He nods once to Steve and again to Y/N.

“I can kiss her?”

Steve smacks Y/N’s ass playfully as she crawls up the bed towards the brunette. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Y/N straddles Bucky’s lap. She could feel his semi-hard cock through the thin material of his sleep shorts. She could also feel-

“Buck-what’s in your pocket?”

“Is that a happy to see me joke?” Steve interjects, clearly amused. Bucky adjusts enough so he’s able to pull the bright orange ear plugs from his pocket.

“Sorry. Just these.” He grins sheepishly tossing them off the side of the bed.

“Are those ear plugs? Why didn’t you ever tell us, Buck? We would have kept it down.”

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t wear them much anymore.” His cock twitches knowing full well he’s lying by omission. Y/N feels the gentle pulse against her core.

She leans in close; lips ghosting over his neck and up to his ear. She uses her tongue to trace the shell before whispering, “Why don’t you wear them anymore, Buck?”

Another twitch. Another pulse of blood. He’s holding his breath in hopes of holding in his confession. She’s not gonna let him off easy. His hands clench the duvet, still unsure of what’s allowed and terrified he’s about to get caught for his eavesdropping.

Steve’s settled into the chair in the corner, facing the bed. He can smell Y/N’s arousal. He knows the game she’s playing with Buck and is content to watch as it plays out.

“Do you like listening?” She can feel his rapid heartbeat against her own chest. Guiding his large palms to rest on her ass she continues, “Who do you like listening to better? Stevie? Me?” She pauses waiting for his body to give him away. “Both of us?” Bucky’s hips jut against her warm core as if controlled by some invisible force. Y/N smiles like a wolf stalking prey.  “You hear that, Stevie? Bucky’s been listening to you fucking me. What do you do when you listen, sweetheart?”

The tense silence as Bucky contemplates his reply is shattered by a feral growl from the depth of Steve’s chest. Bucky’s eyes go wide, fearing his best friend is about to chastise him.

“Answer her, Buck. Do you fist your beautiful cock in time with our moans? I can picture you, all flush and needy. Is that what you do, baby?”

Y/N’s grinding freely along Bucky’s hard cock along to Steve’s words. The brunette’s eyes are clamped shut but breathy whimpers escape from his plump lips. “Tell us, Bucky.”

“I don’t know who turns me on more; hearing you both. Even with the ear plugs, I’m hard in seconds.”

“What do you do when you get hard, baby?” Steve’s palming and groping at his own erection through his sweatpants.

“I listen. Nearly every fucking night.” He’s pushing and pulling Y/N’s hips, dragging her heated cunt up and down his length. “I cum the hardest when I think of you both. I rut into my pillow, with my plug in my ass.”

“That’s disgusting, Buck.” Steve says; his tone indicating he thinks it’s anything but disgusting. He’s torn off his top and is working his sweats down and over his erection. Bucky eyes it greedily while Y/N continues to dry hump him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“The only thing that’s disgusting is we haven’t done this sooner.” Y/N whines hoping to speed the two men along. She raises her ass off Bucky long enough to strip him of his clothes and shimmy her own panties off. “Can I fuck him, sweetheart? He feels so good against me.”

Steve’s enjoying the control from his perch in the chair. “Not yet, my love. Why don’t you get her nice and ready, Buck? Tease the shit out of her.”

Y/N’s eyes meet Bucky’s in a desperate plead for relief. His surges forward, devouring her mouth with hot, desperate kisses. He palms and kneads her ass, dragging her soaked slit against his shaft. Y/N can’t help but cry out. He’s sliding against her nub deliciously; her juices providing the lubrication for every vein and ridge along his cock to massage where she needs it most. With her lips parted his tongue dips and caresses inside her mouth. Bucky’s in awe of the sounds coming from Y/N he almost forgets about his best friend.

The bed dips and Bucky feels Y/N being pulled from him. They both whine, angry from the loss of delicious friction. “Hush, you two. Or do you not want me to continue?”

Steve swipes his palm through the collection of slick pooling between his girlfriends’ lips and uses it to pump up and down Bucky’s length. Steve’s other hand gives her supple bottom a squeeze before dipping into her juices and pushing into her tight hole.

“Look down. Both of you.” Steve commands. “Watch him fuck my hand all lubed up with your juices while I finger your cute ass.”

Y/N and Bucky are moaning messes. Steve nips love bites into Y/N’s neck, sure to leave marks the next morning. Bucky can see the delicious flush gracing her chest under the translucent fabric of the t-shirt. Something about having the t-shirt on during all of this turns him on more than if she were bare.

Steve must have sensed the both of them getting dangerously close to their respective releases. He pulls back his hands and kisses Bucky full on the mouth.

“Holy fuck. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you two kiss.”

Steve sucks the bottom lip of his best friend into his mouth as he pulls back. Bucky moans at the gentle sting from the bite. It’s been so long since he’s tasted Steve. He’d almost forgotten how perfect his mouth fits his own.

“Switch you two.”

Y/N eyes her boyfriend confused but lays back against the pillows at the head of the bed. The position change has Bucky feeling awkward and needy. He couldn’t figure out what was up Steve’s sleeve. The awkwardness dissolves and the neediness takes over completely when Y/N opens her legs wide to allow him to see the soaked mess he’d made out of her cunt. As if on autopilot, he kneels in front of her and kisses her inner thighs.

“There’s my boy.” Steve praises. “How about you show our girl some of your charm you had back in the 40’s, sweetheart.” Bucky looks back at Steve knowing full well what he’s telling him to do but he still needs to ask. “Devour her, Buck.”

Bucky dives in without needing to be told twice. She tastes better than he had imagined; sinfully delicious with each lap of her folds. He’s drawn deeper and deeper into her like a moth to a flame.

Steve has his own work to do. He’s managed to reach for the nightstand while Y/N and Bucky are occupied to grab the hidden bottle of lube. Hoping not to startle Bucky away from his girlfriend’s core, he massages the back of the man’s thighs before giving more attention to his ass. He lays in a position similar to Bucky’s with Y/N. The three of them in a long train of pleasure across the giant bed.

The anticipation to jump back into his best friend is irresistible but he has no idea how long it’s been since Bucky’s been with a man. The blonde kisses and nips over each cheek before spreading him wide and licking a long stripe over Bucky’s puckered hole. He can’t see his reaction, but he can feel it. Bucky’s skin erupts into chills and his hips buck and grind into the bed below hoping to get some relief. His moans flow freely out his mouth and reverberate into Y/N’s core.

Steve drizzles a large bead of lube over his hole and starts with a single finger. The blonde works his best friend open as he finger-fucks into Y/N relentlessly. It’s not long before she’s clenching around his fingers riding out the high of her orgasm. Bucky is wantonly pushing his hips back into the fingers Steve has buried in his tight channel.

Y/N looks down between her legs to see Bucky’s face beaming up at her; mouth, chin, and beard thoroughly soaked and glistening. His eyes are half lidded, still immersed in the pleasure Steve’s fingers are giving him. The adoration and joy rolling off him is something she’s never seen on his face. She places a hand on each side of his cheeks and brings him up to taste herself from his lips. Steve looks on, truly wondering why the three of them had waited so long to do this.

“Stevie, can I taste you?” he whines.

“I have a better idea, Buck.” Steve’s face is smug as he rearranges Y/N and Bucky’s limbs into the proper position. “Darling, you still want Bucky to fill you up?”

“Fuck yes.”

“I want Bucky to fuck your beautiful cunt while I fuck him.” Steve’s voice carries such a deep timbre his two partners are both in awe. “Do I need to tell you again?” He says with a slap on Bucky’s ass cheek.

Y/N widens her legs allowing to Bucky slip into her wetness. Each of them hisses with pleasure; stilling to adjust. Steve kneels behind Bucky and watches his cockhead disappears into the brunette’s ass.

Bucky nearly finishes right then and there. His ass is filled once more by the man he’s been in love with his entire life and his cock is sheathed in a woman he never dreamed would be moaning his name.

Steve’s worked his cock all the way into Bucky and builds up a rhythm. Bucky is too blissed out to have a massive level of control over his hips. They’re moving to their own primal coding in response to the immense pleasure. Each snap of Steve’s hips presses Bucky into Y/N’s wetness. The three of them move together like a well-oiled machine. It’s not long until they’re all begging for release.

Bucky, with the dual pleasure, comes first; head nuzzled into the crook of Y/N’s neck while Steve bites his shoulder tenderly. Y/N comes next, over stimulated from the previous orgasm; gushing around Bucky’s still semi-hard cock. Steve’s the last to cum. He’s managed to hold out as long as he can, watching his two favorite people come apart in front of him. He pumps stream after stream of his cum deep into Bucky’s ass once ensuring they’re both satisfied.

They collapse into a sweaty heap of limbs. The room smells filthy of sex, but everyone is sated. Y/N nestles down in between the two men and her body is wracked with a fit of giggles.

“What?!” The two men say in unison.

“We need to frame this goddamn t-shirt. It’s fucking magical.”

[idreamofhazeleyes]

Ties of Blood -- Chapter 22

I know this is later than when I usually post chapters. I had been able to have my laptop out at work, but I’ve been needing to refocus back to that and less on the laptop. I still do plan on writing and updating as much as possible.

Warning: There is a brief moment in this chapter of suicide idealization. 

@mrswhozeewhatsis @percussiongirl2017 @winchestergirl-13 @impala-dreamer @because-imma-lady-assface @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @squirrelnotsam @optimisticpeacecollector5

Chapter 22

Aaliyah turned the car off and sat in the driver’s seat. Guilt had eaten away at her the whole drive back from Wyoming. Bobby had asked her to stay with the boys for a time, but she refused. It was bad enough she had to use the three day psych hold to keep her brother safe in the hospital. With a breath, Aaliyah worked her way out of the car and into the hospital. Her mind replayed what had happened at the cemetery yet again as it tried to figure out how she survived.

Aaliyah did her best to ignore the looks from those she passed in the halls on the way to her brother’s room. The trips between hospital and the cemetery in Wyoming hadn’t given her much time for a shower and change of clothing. She swore there was a lingering scent of sulfur from the amount of demons that escaped.

“I don’t care if there’s still twelve hours left,” Aaliyah heard from the elevator bay. “I want to be released.”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes as she followed the voice. She glanced around the corner to see a nurse at Xander’s bedside and their half siblings by the one window in the room. Nissa and Leo hadn’t noticed her arrival, and Aaliyah took the chance in walking into the room.

“Legally they can’t release you,” Aaliyah told her brother, startling all four. She smirked more to herself when Nissa let out a small yelp and Leo played it off like he had seen her the whole time. “Why’d you think I requested one and had our siblings come and visit you?”

“You trust me so little to stay here?” Xander shot back.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse cut in. “Who are you?”

“Aaliyah,” Aaliyah introduced herself, shifting her attention. “His younger sister. Has he been …”

“Much trouble?” The nurse’s eyebrows went up when she finished the sentience. “Very. He’s refused any sort of medication, barely ate what we brought him. Kept going on about seeing something called … reapers.”

“I swear I saw one,” Xander tossed in.

“Yeah, and I saw a demon walking into the lobby,” Aaliyah tossed back, half trying to defuse the tension. “Actually, I think that was a custodian come to think of it.”

“And we’ve seen wendigos out in the parking lot last night,” Leo added. “Seriously, big brother, you’re seeing things.”

Aaliyah turned her full attention to the nurse while her siblings bickered in a teasing tone that Aaliyah saw right through. It was better they did that than anything else. She gestured the nurse away from the bed. “Seriously, how bad is it?”

The nurse looked over the chart in her hands. “Whatever he went up against knocked him up pretty bad.” She pulled out a film and put it up against the light box. “They took this MRI the day he was admitted.” The light flicked on. “There’s minor fractures in his spine and the doctors suspect there was some sort of spinal injury that resulted in paralysis.”

Aaliyah moved in close and studied the MRI. A couple of the fractures didn’t look good, as if those could have been the result of Xander hitting the wall and causing the paralysis. “These two here,” she gestured to the two fractures. “Could they have caused the paralysis? If so, how quick will they heal and maybe he regaining some mobility?”

The nurse gave her a look that Aaliyah wasn’t sure how to interpret. It seemed to be a mix of mild surprise that Aaliyah was able to read the MRI well enough and posed questions that anyone in the medical field would. “Former nurse,” Aaliyah said. “I did some time in radiology in school.”

The nurse gave Aaliyah the nod that meant she really didn’t believe her, but accepted the answer. “It all really depends on Xander and how well his spine heals,” the nurse answered.

Aaliyah thanked the nurse and watched her take her leave of the room before turning back to her siblings.

“What the hell, Aaliyah?” Leo snapped. “You call asking us to come here and babysit?”

“Shit hit the fan bad, guys,” Aaliyah answered. “The yellow eyed demon managed to open a gate straight to hell, and a whole crap ton of demons got out.”

“So you decided to go deal with that instead of being here?” Leo questioned.

“I was asked to help two years ago, Leo,” Aaliyah countered as her cell starting ringing. “Things got rough. I didn’t plan on things getting this deep. The two of you need to keep a look out for any signs of demonic activity. It doesn’t matter how small, you take care of it.”

“And what about you?” Nissa asked as Aaliyah turned and headed for the door.

“I’m gonna answer this call.” Aaliyah fished the phone out of her pocket just as the ringing stopped. She worked her way down to the ground floor as her phone vibrated with a voicemail.

“Aaliyah, it’s Amanda,” the voicemail started. “It’s a good chance if you’re hearing this that I’m dead. Or dying. Not sure how often you check your voicemails. But, hey, it’s been nice knowing you.”

“Oh, hell you’re not,” Aaliyah said under her breath as she ended the voicemail and called Amanda. She started pacing in the lobby as Amanda’s cell rang. Aaliyah started to pull her cell from her head when the other end picked up.

“Hey, Aaliyah,” Amanda greeted, her voice unusually calm. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been a couple years,” Aaliyah agreed. “Sorry I hadn’t called before now; just got your voicemail. What’s up?”

“Can you … come get my body? That wendigo really did a number on me.”

Aaliyah stopped pacing. “God. Amanda, I’m so sorry. You shoulda called for help on that one.”

“You were busy.” Amanda’s voice had gotten weaker. “Off saving the world.”

“Still working on that bit,” Aaliyah said. “Could use some help with it. We can talk about it more when I come get you.”

“I’ll text you where I’m at.”

The line went dead and Aaliyah started at the cell for a minute before a text came through. Her head tilted a little before she left the hospital. Something told her that she wouldn’t make it to Amanda before she died, but Aaliyah hoped she’d arrive before that happened anyway. She sent a text to her siblings and Bobby telling them that she was off to get Amanda; and to prepare for a possible Hunter’s Funeral.

***

Aaliyah swore to herself in frustration. Picking the lock was proving to be more difficult than she expected. She wondered how Amanda managed to get back to her motel room if she suffered bad wounds from a wendigo. The lock clicked open and Aaliyah eased the door into the room. Left over food littered the table and clothing was scattered across the room with one of the beds stripped of all the blankets and sheets.

“Amanda,” Aaliyah called out as she moved toward the bathroom. “Come on, I busted ass to get out here. Don’t you die on me now.” She stopped right before turning into the bathroom and closed her eyes, trying to brace herself for seeing her good friend dead on the floor. With a semi deep breath, Aaliyah opened her eyes and looked into the bathroom. In the tub laid Amanda wrapped in the bedding. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Aaliyah.” Her name was just above a whisper. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“Told you I’d come get you.” Aaliyah knelt down to the edge of the tub. “What about your wounds?” She dared to pull back the bedding to see a large gash across Amanda’s lower abdomen and part of her intestines spilling out.

“Pretty sure it’s infected.” Amanda made some sort of noise Aaliyah accepted as amusement. “I wouldn’t worry about fixing it, Aaliyah. We both know that I’m dead anyway.”

“What sorta nonsense is that, huh? I’ll get your guts back in and you stitched up in no time.”

Amanda rocked her head enough. “I’ve been fighting off death since I put myself in this tub. Hell, I’ve been seeing a reaper popping in once in a while.”

Aaliyah adjusted herself and sat on the floor and leaned in the corner made between the wall and tub wall. She didn’t say anything or do anything.

“Thanks for staying,” Amanda said after a while, her voice quiet. “I would have hated to die here alone and become an angered spirit.”

“You were one of my best friends,” Aaliyah said, getting an amused cough from Amanda. “Yeah, I know. But it’s true. I’m gonna miss you, Amanda.”

“Same … here. Give me a Hunter’s Funeral. Keep what I left in the room.”

Aaliyah shifted around to look Amanda in her eyes to see that little spark of life fade away. The bathroom grew cold, but she didn’t move. Either Amanda was there as a ghost or a reaper decided to visit to take Amanda. Aaliyah wiped away a tear before she collapsed back into the corner and cried. It wasn’t fair that her first friend had been killed by a wendigo. The one person that hadn’t judged Aaliyah when she first started digging after the werewolf on campus near three and a half years ago.

Aaliyah wasn’t sure when the tears finally stopped, or how long she was curled up in the corner with Amanda’s corpse in the tub behind her. She eased up to her feet and left the motel room, after a quick search for the key. There were things to do before night fell, and she was on her own.

***

Several hours passed before Aaliyah found a place out in the woods of upstate New York. Armed with an axe she bought from one of the hardware stores in town and a few six packs, Aaliyah worked until nightfall on a pyre. She helped the boys with the pyre for John, but then it was the three of them. For Amanda, it was just her. With the last log in place just as the sky took on the last hues of night blue, Aaliyah stepped back and wiped the sweet off her face. The pyre certainly wasn’t the best she had seen, but it would do. With a catching breath, Aaliyah walked over to where she had put Amanda. She had wrapped up her friend in the same way John had been; the white fitted bed sheet with the top sheet ripped up to tie up the body.

Aaliyah struggled a little with the dead weight but managed to get Amanda’s body onto the pyre. She poured some gasoline in a line on the wood and struck a match, dropping it onto the gasoline soaked wood. It went up in a burst of fire, sending Aaliyah back a few steps. She stood there for a minute before grabbing a beer and opening it. Her cell rang at one point, breaking the silence, but Aaliyah ignored it. It vibrated in her pocket. When the pyre burned half way down, and Amanda’s body had turned to mostly ash, Aaliyah picked up what remained of the two six packs and started back toward the motel.

***

Dawn found Aaliyah passed out on the unstripped bed on her stomach and one arm hanging off the edge, beer on the nightstand within her reach. Her cell started ringing, startling her awake. She moaned in her motions to grab the phone and answered it.

“This better be important,” Aaliyah snapped. “I’m not in the mood for talking.”

“Nissa called, saying that you took off a few days ago,” Sam said. “Said that you had a call while at the hospital.”

“Amanda died,” Aaliyah said, keeping her eyes closed. “A wendigo nearly gutted her.”

“I’m sorry, Aaliyah,” Sam said, his voice soft. “Really. Dean told me about her. What did you do?”

Aaliyah moaned as her head started to throb a little from the beginnings of a hangover. “Hunter’s Funeral is what she wanted. What’s up?”

“We found one of dad’s storage units had been broken into,” he said.

“And something was taken. How important is it?”

“You’re hungover, aren’t you?”

Aaliyah rolled onto her back. “Do you blame me?”

“I guess not. I’ll send you where we’re at,” Sam said. “Drink plenty of water and take some pain meds.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Aaliyah hung up and laid there on her back, unsure if she wanted to move or lay there and sleep off the hangover. Sleep would be nice; and would provide a nice escape from the pain. But it would be temporary. She eased herself up to sitting on the edge of the bed before fumbling over to where she had dumped her bag for the bottle of Advil.

A seed of a thought sprouted in her mind as Aaliyah got a couple pills into an open hand. What was to stop her from swallowing the whole bottle? She had attempted to kill the pain with alcohol the night before and all it got her was the hangover. Yeah, it hurt losing a friend; but Aaliyah knew if she swallowed more than the two pills in her hand, she’d never hear the end of it. Washing the pills down with flat beer,

Aaliyah pushed past the discomfort of the hangover and worked through the papers and Amanda’s belongings. It took a few hours, but it had been done. The food she had dumped into the trash before making sure she had everything packed. With her and Amanda’s gear bags in hand, Aaliyah left the room. She settled the account for the room in the office before heading off to meet Sam and Dean.

[everythingcollided]

More Than A Fan [Peter Parker]

Request:  Hello beautiful! May I get a Peter x Reader where he’s completely SOFT™️ for her and once she finds out about her best friend being Spidey she can’t help but wear/buy all the Spidey merch available? With fluff and flustered Pete? Love you lots! ❤️

Word Count: 2,153

Warnings: Swearing, slight sorta severe pining 

A/N: I was so excited to write this cause the request was absolutely adorable! Thanks to @beautiful-writings for basically being my beta reader she’s amazing! 

It’s been three days.

Seventy-two hours since she’d wrapped her arms around him in their customary hug, the comforting smell of her shampoo clouding his senses and lulling him into the safety he only ever felt around her, breath puffing right over his heart. It was normal, and Peter never expected it to stop only hours later.

He kept on seeing her face in the rain where she’d caught him maskless under the awning of a shop he couldn’t remember, hair stuck to her cheeks and neck, eyelashes lined with raindrops. She looked as delicate as a flower in the darkness, almost too stunning to be real, and Peter’s guilt clashed with the need to get her someplace warm and dry.

“I need some time,” she’d said, like a knife to his chest.

And then she walked away. Peter had never thought about how much he’d miss those hugs until she wasn’t there to give them.

Three days.

Aunt May kept on asking him if he was alright when he came out of his room with darkness under his eyes and he always said yes because he knew how much she loved her and he couldn’t bear to disappoint another woman in his life with how stupid he had been. She offered up a movie night complete with three bowls of popcorn anyway.

It was on the fourth day, when he’d just finished eating his breakfast, that his phone vibrated.

‘Can you come over?’ the text read, her name written at the top followed by the yellow heart that guaranteed he wasn’t imagining it. She really wanted to see him.

He didn’t even answer, rummaging through his closet for a sweater and barely having it over his head before charging downstairs and unhooking his bike from the rack. He completely zoned out on the ride over, going from muscle memory alone.

He was so scared that she was going to leave him. Maybe five months ago he would’ve been able to handle it; when she was just a girl with pretty eyes and a kickass sense of humor. When she was just his best friend who made his stomach feel weird, who for some reason he couldn’t even see the same as he saw Ned even though they were both equally important to him.

Five months ago he could’ve taken the blow because hey, he’d lost friends before and it hurt for a while but he still had Ned and MJ and they’d do their best to help him forget about her. Five months ago he was helplessly oblivious to the fact that his feelings for her were in no way wholly platonic and that everything she did put hearts in his eyes.

Now, the thought of losing her made Peter feel like he would be blown into thousands of pieces and he wasn’t going to let that happen. She was going to let him explain why he kept his identity from her for so long, and she was going to understand.

She was going to understand.

Peter’s heart is thrashing around his chest, thumping with the beats of his knuckles against the wooden door as he knocks. It’s warmer than he thought outside, or maybe that’s just his body heating up from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He balls the edge of his sleeve into his palm nervously, tapping his feet against the faded welcome! mat, feeling anything but.

The slight creak of the door as it opens sounds loud in his ears and he jumps, eyes darting to the figure in the frame and widening in turn. There she is, the crinkles at the edges of her eyes the first thing he sees and the large t-shirt she wears the second.

It’s bright red, with a cartoon version of Spider-Man swinging across the front. His name is etched down the long sleeves swallowing her arms in bold letters and Peter almost has to squint with the sunlight reflecting off of the material.

“So, question,” she starts casually, rocking on her feet - which are clad in socks that resemble that part of his suit flawlessly - and not at all appearing mad like Peter had expected and prepared for. “You wear boxers, right?”

He’s dazed by her attire and it takes him a moment to realize what she’s just said, cheeks coloring. “Yeah? Yes, I do. Why?”

She nods, ponytail swishing. “Great. Come on.”

And then she’s pulling him by the hand into the house he’s been in so many times he has it memorized, down the long hallway decorated with pictures of her with missing teeth and pigtails, of the two of them with their arms around each other holding participation ribbons at a science fair with gigantic grins, and into the living room.

There are bags littering the carpeted floor as well as the coffee table standing in the middle of the room and the couch. Boxes peak up out of the abyss here and there, tops ripped open and dropping styrofoam peanuts over the ground.

“Shit, I forgot what box they were in,” she mutters, gracefully weaving through the mess. Her shirt rides up as she rummages through a box and Peter spots web designs crawling over her shorts.

“What is all of this?” He finally asks.

“Did you know that Stark Industries owns this whole Spider-Man brand? They have, like, everything.” She’s practically inside of the box now, balancing on one leg as she submerges her limbs in search of...boxers, was it? Her voice echoes against the cardboard and Peter decides to help her before she hurts herself.

He wades through the plastic and moves behind her, pressing a hand to her back to let her know he’s there. She sends him a grateful smile as she moves to give him room. “Mr. Stark didn’t say anything about...a brand?” She hums in confirmation at the questioning edge, Peter’s chest filling with warmth at the thought that Mr. Stark would do such a thing for Spider-Man, for him.

His hands brush against fabric in the sea of green and pink peanuts and he latches onto it. She chuckles at the product. “See, boxers!” Little Spider-Men are swinging around the dark blue background. “I also ordered sweatshirts, shorts, socks, pillows - they have pillows isn’t that cool? I think I got a few bras too.”

Peter flushes at that and sends her an incredulous look. She glances at him, eyes widening when she’s realized what she just said. “I mean, they were available.”

“You bought all of this stuff?”

“Of course.”

Peter feels that little gnawing at his stomach again, the same one he’d felt days ago. He looks around at all of the packages, and the thought of how much money all of it must have cost makes him wince. “Why?”

She furrows her eyebrows, fingers fiddling with the edge of her sleeve in the way she’s always done when wearing long sleeves. “Well, why not?”

Peter runs a hand through his messy hair. “You said you needed time,” he hates how fragile his voice sounds in the quiet room, how easily she gets under his skin. “You haven’t talked to me at all and now you’re acting like everything’s fine and I’m just...really confused?”

She seems to slouch into herself at his words, eyes softening. Her teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth and she takes her time in bringing her gaze to Peter’s. She takes a step forward, a question sparkling in her eyes, and he finds himself nodding. All he’s wanted is for her to be here, to be on good terms with him, and he knew he’d do whatever she needed to get there.

She circles her arms around his waist and lays her head against his chest. Briefly, he wonders if she can hear how fast his heart is beating, but she speaks before he can fully freak out about that. “I’m sorry. It just took a lot of processing. I mean, first I had to deal with the identity thing, and then there’s also the constant worrying I’m going to have to deal with because I know you’re gonna get hurt, you idiot.”

There’s a pause, and her voice lowers.

“I was mad for a bit. Hurt, I guess. That you didn’t tell me. But then I thought about everything you’ve done for me and hated myself for ever thinking about ditching you for saving the world. So, instead of being the worst best friend ever, I decided to hit the internet and get some merchandise so that I could be your biggest fan.”

Peter twirls a piece of her hair around his finger, pulls her tighter against him. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

She lifts her head to look at him, eyes narrowing as she observes the contours of his face. “You know I’m always here for you, right?”

He does, but the past three days show something different than that promise and she must see the confliction on his face because she frowns and takes a step back.

She runs her hands over her face and sighs. “Peter, I know what I did, it hurt me too, okay? But I didn’t want to try talking to you when my emotions were all over the place. I could’ve said anything and I wanted to be sure that I wouldn’t dumbly ruin this because I hadn’t given myself enough time to let it sink in.”

“Please understand,” she begs, digging into a ripped bag and producing a shirt identical to her own. “Don’t let our matching shirts go to waste.”

Peter cracks at that, laughing and reaching for the article of clothing. “Seriously?”

Her lips lift in the grin she’s been trying to hold back, shrugging. “It might be a little big, but, yeah. Seriously. We can be Spider-Man’s biggest supporters.”

“Ned’s gonna want one too.”

“I ordered four. Just in case MJ wants one too.”

Peter unfolds it, heart bursting. He should’ve known that she wouldn’t abandon him, that instead, she’d do something like this. She always found ways of sweeping his feet out from under him and leaving him dumbfounded.

All of that guilt and worry from the previous days fizzles into nothing. Peter’s stuck just standing there and staring at his best friend, wondering how he found someone like her that chose to handle him on a daily basis.

“So,” she starts, clutching a white pillow with Spider-Man illustrations to her chest, eyes wide and vulnerable. Peter’s heart skips a beat. “Am I forgiven?”

It’s in that moment that Peter almost crosses the three steps separating them and presses his lips to hers. It’s a quick wave of emotion that’s gone as fast as it came and his stomach sinks a bit when he realizes he has no right to do something like that.

Peter pretends to think over, mostly so that he can get his brain back on the right track and away from her lips. “Did you get sweatpants?”

Her expression morphs into a mix of a smile and agitation. “Yes.”

“Then yeah,” Peter’s face heats in the intensity of her smile. “Just don’t spend this much money on me again.”

“Would I be a proper fan if I didn’t have the merch? I don’t think so.”

“You don't have to have merch to be considered my biggest fan.”

She shrugs and tosses the pillow at his chest. “It’s a bonus.”

He throws it back. “An expensive bonus.”

“Oh, just admit you love me, dork.” She retaliates by hitting him in the shoulder and though it’s harmless, her words catch him off guard.

“I love you,” Peter says, and it’s blurred on a line between best friends and something more and it scares him how close it is to the latter.

But she’s naive to it all, balancing the pillow on top of his head with a smile on her lips that makes him feel like the luckiest person in the world. “That’s more like it.”

She steps back and claps her hands together. “So, you gonna help me unpack or what?”

“You only called me over here to be your slave.”

“No. I called you over here to apologize, and to prove how awesome of a friend I am.” She crosses her arms. “And for you to be my slave.”

Peter blows air out of his nose. “Only because you’re my biggest fan.”

“Can I get you saying that in the suit on video?”

He gives her a look.

She puts her hands up. “Okay, fine. Kidding. Let’s get working, Spider-Boy.”

They work fluidly and have everything stacked in piles soon enough. She nudges him and jokes about them starting a fan page and Peter can’t help but think they’ve made a step towards something. Maybe it’s what he wants it to be towards, or maybe not.

But it’s something.  

[stylessemantics]

*~ Believe In Magic ~*

//  INTRO // For The New Witch In Town 

It was a long drive. The big road kept narrowing the closer he got to his destination. He sighed once again. He hates driving, but he had to. He couldn’t just fly his broom to the new house, neither could he fly his car there. The Rules kept changing, he couldn’t just teleport himself there now either. Besides, just how weird would that be? New neighbour getting there and no one noticing… The closer he got to the small town, the more “natural” he had to appear. Specially in these times when people just hunted his kind for fun, not even for religious beliefs anymore. Just for the fun of finding a witch. Hatred. Judgement. Just cause he was different.

Harry turns a left and then a right, seeing the entrance of the not so small town and remembering the previous towns he had been in. Specially Saint Orum; It was bigger but cosier all the same. A lot more lively and nicer looking. Even the aroma was sweeter than this new town’s. He concluded the first town he lived in was better. Or maybe it was because he had lived there for 100 years. He’s a bit biased. “ So is it a house? Or another measly apartment?” The voice startles Harry. For a second he had forgotten he was travelling with a companion. He turns to look at the stretching cat that nips at the seats and scratches at his leg. Salem. His new cat, the mandatory companion for a witch like Harry. The replacement to his old cat. Another reason he liked the other town a lot better. He had Frisk, his “original” cat, the one he sorta grew up with, his first ever cat. Sadly, witch-cats don’t last as long as witch-people, and can’t just cast a spell to rejuvenate once year 100 hits.

Salem was ok, Harry decided when they first got paired. It was better than having no cat and mourning over the loss of Frisk. And, hey, it meant having someone to talk to no matter what town he moved to. It meant he didn’t have to be alone until he made some human friends. If he ever made any.

But after 25 years and a fresh restart, Harry decided that Salem, and his relationship with Salem was… different. Salem turned out to be annoying at times. He was a bit of a rebel cat, going his own way and not always helping Harry. Sure they have bonded a bit over the years and there’s a sort of love hate thing between them, with some nice moments; like when Harry tended to Salem’s broken paw for weeks, and when Salem helped Harry with his potions written in a language so ancient Harry could’t comprehend but Salem had learned while being a kitten, and some not so nice moments, like when Salem got Harry in trouble and caused him to cast a spell and have to move towns, settling them in the present predicament. With this move, it marked the 3rd town Harry had lived in with Salem in the past 25 years, and after the hard reset spell he cast last, this made Harry a very fresh looking 18 year old. Wasn’t that nice?… No. It wasn’t for Harry. “It’s an apartment” “Good heavens. Why can’t we have a nice 3 story house like we did back in Fresno?” Salem groans in his raspy english accent. “ It’s not my fault someone burned down the house next door…” Harry looked at his cat side-eyed, giving him a pointed look. The elders had been furious. And where one went, the other as well. “ Fine. Apartment it is”

Settling into the new apartment wasn’t hard. It was small, but not that small. In fact the perfect size and a bit more than needed. Considering Harry didn’t have a lot after dumping, with a lot of pain, most of the old books he carried at the International Library of Witchcraft, and casting a spell that enlarged a room, one of the few spells Harry can master with eyes-closed and half asleep, the apartment was perfect. The building was old looking on the outside. Of course, Salem groaned, quickly covering it with a meow at the sight of an old lady. But on the inside it was fairly modern. Harry thanked his elder Louis for locating him in such a nice place, and low-key, very quiet neighbourhood.

Neither Niall or Louis, Harry’s elders, and not even Harry and Salem themselves know how they have made it, but soon Harry’s cutting himself a slice of cake on his 23rd birthday, and he looks around, noticing he’s still in the same town. People don’t know anything about him, and his powers, and Salem has gotten into trouble, yes, of course, just none as bad as he has in the past. No one knows how they have done it, but Salem and Harry celebrate that they have turned 5 years living in St. Winston, with no need for a reset spell, and no need to pack up and escape. It’s not like this is the longest they’ve been in one place. But it’s long enough to celebrate after lasting just 16 months in Fresno. Where someone had accidentally burnt down a house…

Harry was a nerd. That was stablished since day one. He was a clumsy witch, he just really liked his books, but no matter how much he read, his magic just wasn’t that strong. His powers weren’t at all mastered. But that didn’t stop him from eating books with fervor. Both on magic and non-magic topics. Nicholas Sparks’ novels littered his space, any type of literature in piles around his bed, and his reading glasses that Salem levitated off Harry’s face whenever he fell asleep reading Bukowski, Austen or something else.

So when Salem stops licking himself to look out the window and he notices something and then gasps, someone actually; Harry isn’t phased, he’s too into the words that enter his eyes, avid reader he is. “ Seems like we have a new neighbour” He says, already plotting how to pull a prank on them. Harry is uninterested, truly uninterested. His nose is deep in a book about ancient mythology and it’s too good to put down, as he walks around munching on an apple and slipping his glasses farther up his nose. “ Harry!” Salem says coming up and scratching at his sock-clad feet. “ Ow! Salem, watch the claws!” “ We have a new neighbour!” Now Harry’s attention is on the small black cat. More often than not, a new neighbour meant the possibility of another witch, or a witch hunter. It was also another person Harry would like to research and keep an eye out for, as he did with everyone else in the building. Witch or not.

Harry and Salem both lean over the couch to look out the balcony without being spotted. Parked in front of the building is a moving truck and the man from the moving company carry boxes in and out. There’s a bit of ruckus coming from the hallway. ‘They are moving to this floor’ Harry deduces. He’d learnt something from the complete works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Not enough to be even close to Holmes. “There!” Salem says, making Harry turn around so fast it almost gives him whiplash. He spots the person amongst the working man. It’s a girl. She’s got her hair tied up in a high ponytail and she wears something that looks like a dress, or a shirt and a skirt. He can’t be sure from this height, from this angle. “Go on! Cast it!” the cat says and Harry snaps out of his thoughts, quickly casting a spell only other witches could see and respond correctly to. The small specs of green float around the girl, though she doesn’t seem to notice them. Any other witch close by would see them and respond by changing the color of the magic dust, though all the girl does is continue to carry boxes and talk to the working men. “ Bah, no fun” Salem is instantly discouraged. She’s not a witch that he could play with, or talk to besides Harry. Being the only magical talking cat in the neighbourhood, quite possibly the whole town, is not as boring as Salem thought. It’s 100 times worse. “Just a petty mortal, I was hoping for something fun” Salem is quick to lift his tail in the air and hop from the balcony edge back into the house, walking over to his pillow on the ground where he sleeps. Just a petty mortal, case closed, not relevant enough to keep the attention of mighty Salem.

Though for some reason, Harry just stares for a while longer. There’s… He’s scared to say there’s something because she clearly isn’t a witch. But for some reason his new neighbour doesn’t seem as boring as all the people in the building are to him. For some reason Harry wants to know just a bit more, and he looks further on. He’s intrigued, and he can’t even make out her face from where he’s sat… “ I wish another witch would move in, you know? To stop being the new, and only witch in town. I’m so bored” Harry can hear his cat say from behind him as he slowly steps off the balcony. Right as she looks up to him. Maybe not him, maybe just the building in general. And maybe she could feel someone looking, and she catches the shape of a man in a balcony, and he’s there for a moment, then he’s gone. “I’m tired of petty mortals.” Harry’s gone, turned behind the curtains as he lets out a sigh.

“ Yeah…” he responds to Salem “…Same” Harry shakes his head and places his glasses on his face again, to continue reading as he lets himself drop on the couch next to Salem’s bed. Just a petty mortal…

Find anything Witch!harry related under the #BIM tag. Check out the rest of my work here. Let me know what you think will happen in the next upload.  Smooches, Iv, *casts a magic spell*

[notsofly]

Ties in Blood Chapter 22

Warnings: Brief suicide idealization

@mrswhozeewhatsis @idreamofplaid @impala-dreamer @winchestergirl-13 @percussiongirl2017 @squirrelnotsam

Chapter 22

Aaliyah turned the car off and sat in the driver’s seat. Guilt had eaten away at her the whole drive back from Wyoming. Bobby had asked her to stay with the boys for a time, but she refused. It was bad enough she had to use the three day psych hold to keep her brother safe in the hospital. With a breath, Aaliyah worked her way out of the car and into the hospital. Her mind replayed what had happened at the cemetery yet again as it tried to figure out how she survived.

Aaliyah did her best to ignore the looks from those she passed in the halls on the way to her brother’s room. The trips between hospital and the cemetery in Wyoming hadn’t given her much time for a shower and change of clothing. She swore there was a lingering scent of sulfur from the amount of demons that escaped.

“I don’t care if there’s still twelve hours left,” Aaliyah heard from the elevator bay. “I want to be released.”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes as she followed the voice. She glanced around the corner to see a nurse at Xander’s bedside and their half siblings by the one window in the room. Nissa and Leo hadn’t noticed her arrival, and Aaliyah took the chance in walking into the room.

“Legally they can’t release you,” Aaliyah told her brother, startling all four. She smirked more to herself when Nissa let out a small yelp and Leo played it off like he had seen her the whole time. “Why’d you think I requested one and had our siblings come and visit you?”

“You trust me so little to stay here?” Xander shot back.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse cut in. “Who are you?”

“Aaliyah,” Aaliyah introduced herself, shifting her attention. “His younger sister. Has he been …”

“Much trouble?” The nurse’s eyebrows went up when she finished the sentience. “Very. He’s refused any sort of medication, barely ate what we brought him. Kept going on about seeing something called … reapers.”

“I swear I saw one,” Xander tossed in.

“Yeah, and I saw a demon walking into the lobby,” Aaliyah tossed back, half trying to defuse the tension. “Actually, I think that was a custodian come to think of it.”

“And we’ve seen wendigos out in the parking lot last night,” Leo added. “Seriously, big brother, you’re seeing things.”

Aaliyah turned her full attention to the nurse while her siblings bickered in a teasing tone that Aaliyah saw right through. It was better they did that than anything else. She gestured the nurse away from the bed. “Seriously, how bad is it?”

The nurse looked over the chart in her hands. “Whatever he went up against knocked him up pretty bad.” She pulled out a film and put it up against the light box. “They took this MRI the day he was admitted.” The light flicked on. “There’s minor fractures in his spine and the doctors suspect there was some sort of spinal injury that resulted in paralysis.”

Aaliyah moved in close and studied the MRI. A couple of the fractures didn’t look good, as if those could have been the result of Xander hitting the wall and causing the paralysis. “These two here,” she gestured to the two fractures. “Could they have caused the paralysis? If so, how quick will they heal and maybe he regaining some mobility?”

The nurse gave her a look that Aaliyah wasn’t sure how to interpret. It seemed to be a mix of mild surprise that Aaliyah was able to read the MRI well enough and posed questions that anyone in the medical field would. “Former nurse,” Aaliyah said. “I did some time in radiology in school.”

The nurse gave Aaliyah the nod that meant she really didn’t believe her, but accepted the answer. “It all really depends on Xander and how well his spine heals,” the nurse answered.

Aaliyah thanked the nurse and watched her take her leave of the room before turning back to her siblings.

“What the hell, Aaliyah?” Leo snapped. “You call asking us to come here and babysit?”

“Shit hit the fan bad, guys,” Aaliyah answered. “The yellow eyed demon managed to open a gate straight to hell, and a whole crap ton of demons got out.”

“So you decided to go deal with that instead of being here?” Leo questioned.

“I was asked to help two years ago, Leo,” Aaliyah countered as her cell starting ringing. “Things got rough. I didn’t plan on things getting this deep. The two of you need to keep a look out for any signs of demonic activity. It doesn’t matter how small, you take care of it.”

“And what about you?” Nissa asked as Aaliyah turned and headed for the door.

“I’m gonna answer this call.” Aaliyah fished the phone out of her pocket just as the ringing stopped. She worked her way down to the ground floor as her phone vibrated with a voicemail.

“Aaliyah, it’s Amanda,” the voicemail started. “It’s a good chance if you’re hearing this that I’m dead. Or dying. Not sure how often you check your voicemails. But, hey, it’s been nice knowing you.”

“Oh, hell you’re not,” Aaliyah said under her breath as she ended the voicemail and called Amanda. She started pacing in the lobby as Amanda’s cell rang. Aaliyah started to pull her cell from her head when the other end picked up.

“Hey, Aaliyah,” Amanda greeted, her voice unusually calm. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been a couple years,” Aaliyah agreed. “Sorry I hadn’t called before now; just got your voicemail. What’s up?”

“Can you … come get my body? That wendigo really did a number on me.”

Aaliyah stopped pacing. “God. Amanda, I’m so sorry. You shoulda called for help on that one.”

“You were busy.” Amanda’s voice had gotten weaker. “Off saving the world.”

“Still working on that bit,” Aaliyah said. “Could use some help with it. We can talk about it more when I come get you.”

“I’ll text you where I’m at.”

The line went dead and Aaliyah started at the cell for a minute before a text came through. Her head tilted a little before she left the hospital. Something told her that she wouldn’t make it to Amanda before she died, but Aaliyah hoped she’d arrive before that happened anyway. She sent a text to her siblings and Bobby telling them that she was off to get Amanda; and to prepare for a possible Hunter’s Funeral.

***

Aaliyah swore to herself in frustration. Picking the lock was proving to be more difficult than she expected. She wondered how Amanda managed to get back to her motel room if she suffered bad wounds from a wendigo. The lock clicked open and Aaliyah eased the door into the room. Left over food littered the table and clothing was scattered across the room with one of the beds stripped of all the blankets and sheets.

“Amanda,” Aaliyah called out as she moved toward the bathroom. “Come on, I busted ass to get out here. Don’t you die on me now.” She stopped right before turning into the bathroom and closed her eyes, trying to brace herself for seeing her good friend dead on the floor. With a semi deep breath, Aaliyah opened her eyes and looked into the bathroom. In the tub laid Amanda wrapped in the bedding. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Aaliyah.” Her name was just above a whisper. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“Told you I’d come get you.” Aaliyah knelt down to the edge of the tub. “What about your wounds?” She dared to pull back the bedding to see a large gash across Amanda’s lower abdomen and part of her intestines spilling out.

“Pretty sure it’s infected.” Amanda made some sort of noise Aaliyah accepted as amusement. “I wouldn’t worry about fixing it, Aaliyah. We both know that I’m dead anyway.”

“What sorta nonsense is that, huh? I’ll get your guts back in and you stitched up in no time.”

Amanda rocked her head enough. “I’ve been fighting off death since I put myself in this tub. Hell, I’ve been seeing a reaper popping in once in a while.”

Aaliyah adjusted herself and sat on the floor and leaned in the corner made between the wall and tub wall. She didn’t say anything or do anything.

“Thanks for staying,” Amanda said after a while, her voice quiet. “I would have hated to die here alone and become an angered spirit.”

“You were one of my best friends,” Aaliyah said, getting an amused cough from Amanda. “Yeah, I know. But it’s true. I’m gonna miss you, Amanda.”

“Same … here. Give me a Hunter’s Funeral. Keep what I left in the room.”

Aaliyah shifted around to look Amanda in her eyes to see that little spark of life fade away. The bathroom grew cold, but she didn’t move. Either Amanda was there as a ghost or a reaper decided to visit to take Amanda. Aaliyah wiped away a tear before she collapsed back into the corner and cried. It wasn’t fair that her first friend had been killed by a wendigo. The one person that hadn’t judged Aaliyah when she first started digging after the werewolf on campus near three and a half years ago.

Aaliyah wasn’t sure when the tears finally stopped, or how long she was curled up in the corner with Amanda’s corpse in the tub behind her. She eased up to her feet and left the motel room, after a quick search for the key. There were things to do before night fell, and she was on her own.

***

Several hours passed before Aaliyah found a place out in the woods of upstate New York. Armed with an axe she bought from one of the hardware stores in town and a few six packs, Aaliyah worked until nightfall on a pyre. She helped the boys with the pyre for John, but then it was the three of them. For Amanda, it was just her. With the last log in place just as the sky took on the last hues of night blue, Aaliyah stepped back and wiped the sweet off her face. The pyre certainly wasn’t the best she had seen, but it would do. With a catching breath, Aaliyah walked over to where she had put Amanda. She had wrapped up her friend in the same way John had been; the white fitted bed sheet with the top sheet ripped up to tie up the body.

Aaliyah struggled a little with the dead weight but managed to get Amanda’s body onto the pyre. She poured some gasoline in a line on the wood and struck a match, dropping it onto the gasoline soaked wood. It went up in a burst of fire, sending Aaliyah back a few steps. She stood there for a minute before grabbing a beer and opening it. Her cell rang at one point, breaking the silence, but Aaliyah ignored it. It vibrated in her pocket. When the pyre burned half way down, and Amanda’s body had turned to mostly ash, Aaliyah picked up what remained of the two six packs and started back toward the motel.

***

Dawn found Aaliyah passed out on the unstripped bed on her stomach and one arm hanging off the edge, beer on the nightstand within her reach. Her cell started ringing, startling her awake. She moaned in her motions to grab the phone and answered it.

“This better be important,” Aaliyah snapped. “I’m not in the mood for talking.”

“Nissa called, saying that you took off a few days ago,” Sam said. “Said that you had a call while at the hospital.”

“Amanda died,” Aaliyah said, keeping her eyes closed. “A wendigo nearly gutted her.”

“I’m sorry, Aaliyah,” Sam said, his voice soft. “Really. Dean told me about her. What did you do?”

Aaliyah moaned as her head started to throb a little from the beginnings of a hangover. “Hunter’s Funeral is what she wanted. What’s up?”

“We found one of dad’s storage units had been broken into,” he said.

“And something was taken. How important is it?”

“You’re hungover, aren’t you?”

Aaliyah rolled onto her back. “Do you blame me?”

“I guess not. I’ll send you where we’re at,” Sam said. “Drink plenty of water and take some pain meds.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Aaliyah hung up and laid there on her back, unsure if she wanted to move or lay there and sleep off the hangover. Sleep would be nice; and would provide a nice escape from the pain. But it would be temporary. She eased herself up to sitting on the edge of the bed before fumbling over to where she had dumped her bag for the bottle of Advil.

A seed of a thought sprouted in her mind as Aaliyah got a couple pills into an open hand. What was to stop her from swallowing the whole bottle? She had attempted to kill the pain with alcohol the night before and all it got her was the hangover. Yeah, it hurt losing a friend; but Aaliyah knew if she swallowed more than the two pills in her hand, she’d never hear the end of it. Washing the pills down with flat beer,

Aaliyah pushed past the discomfort of the hangover and worked through the papers and Amanda’s belongings. It took a few hours, but it had been done. The food she had dumped into the trash before making sure she had everything packed. With her and Amanda’s gear bags in hand, Aaliyah left the room. She settled the account for the room in the office before heading off to meet Sam and Dean.