#i drove over that bridge twice!!

[odinsblog]

The crew of a massive container ship that crashed into the Francis Scott Key bridge in Baltimore early Tuesday warned of power issues before the collision, which caused the bridge to collapse into the frigid Patapsco River, officials said.

Maryland Gov. Wes Moore said the warning from the ship’s crew likely saved lives.

“We’re thankful that between the mayday and the collapse, that we had officials who were able to begin to stop the flow of traffic so more cars were not on the bridge,” Moore said. He called those officials heroes.

Moore noted that the bridge was up to code at the time of the collapse. He said the collapse was a “shocking and heartbreaking” event for the people of Maryland who have used the bridge for 47 years.

(continue reading)

[sunforgrace]

he sat there on the ground and cried. for cas. cas told him he loved him was taken away and he buried his head in his hands and wept

[should-be-sleeping]

Tough day today... and friendly reminder that being human is easier when we help each other.

I saw one of our neighbors, an older woman we sometimes talk to in passing, sitting outside of her house. I don't know what exactly made me look twice, but on second glance as we drove by I realized her walker was in the grass. She was otherwise just sitting there, like she had a thousand times before, so it would have been easy to assume she was fine and go on with my life as normal but something told me to go check in on her anyway.

She was not fine. She was the polar opposite of fine. Just diagnosed with terminal cancer not fine. No next of kin not fine. A veteran facing eviction from her house for missing rent while in the hospital not fine. In constant debilitating pain not fine. Only semi-lucid not fine. She was extremely alone not fine.

I thought, at most, she might be bored while unable to pick up her walker not fine. A five minute detour from my day not fine. A help her back into her house and say "see you later!" not fine. Instead I spent the last three hours with her because she was so scared and alone and no one should be alone.

We talked a lot while I was there. She's actually two years younger than my mom (who also has cancer but slightly better luck, I guess). I helped her into her house and got her a drink and we talked about what all is going on with her. None of it was good. I was as reassuring as I could be, but there's only so much of this I can actually help her with.

"Why did you come?" she asked through tears.

"Because you looked like you might need some help."

She called me an angel. I told her I was just doing my best. I told her that kindness should never be rare. That we should all try to make the world just a little bit better than it was.

She offered to pay me but I told her I was just there as a friend. Before today we were basically strangers. No need to repay me with anything other than her company, I assured her. She cried, a lot. I managed not to somehow. Something tells me she had needed to cry long before this but in being Strong she never had the chance to.

She needed to get her mail, which is a long walk when you're disabled because it is not at all handicap accessible (across a parking lot, over a bridge, across a small field). So I helped her get her mail. We stopped every three feet because her pain was so bad, but she was determined to be able to go do this with me and not just send me on an errand. I patiently stayed with her and reminded her, through her apologies, it was fine to take our time: there was a nice breeze and birds were singing. She appreciated this. She loves nature.

Halfway back she said she wanted to go to the pool. To put her feet in the water. She loves water, and has not been able to even see the pool in a month. Neither of us were dressed for swimming, but I took her to the pool anyway. There is a stair leading down to it, meaning she couldn't bring her walker, so I offered her my arm.

We went to the pool. She put her feet in the water and then, with more energy and enthusiasm than I'd seen the whole time, she jumped in. In her fancy dress! She was instantly ten years younger at least, clear and happy, floating in the sun. Dress and all. She grew up with a pool and had been on a swim team.

I sat by the edge of the pool while she swam, keeping her company and also making sure she was okay. When she got tired I took her back home and then had to help her get undressed and redressed. I made sure she felt no shame. Getting out of wet clothes is hard for anyone, let alone someone with like twenty pounds of tumors racking them with constant pain.

She was so fucking happy to have gone swimming.

She is trying to "make everything right" before she goes. Trying to repay her debt to society and her debts in general. She couldn't understand why the corporation that owns our houses wouldn't take her money. She was genuinely distressed -- not to be homeless on her deathbed but to not leave this world with a clean slate. I told her intent matters. She can only do her best.

This company not letting her repay her debt was their fault, not hers.

When I finally needed to go, I told her to let me know any time she needed a hand or just wanted company. She told me she was going to die tonight. I told her I hoped not, so I could see her tomorrow. I offered her a hug, we hugged and she sobbed for a solid ten minutes into my shoulder. I told her she was okay. That it was okay.

When I got home I cried myself, because I could not believe she was going through all of that alone. I cannot even imagine how isolated she must have felt. Once I pulled myself back together I sent her a text reminding her to reach out any time and I'd do my best to come over. Like, any time at all.

I hope she is here tomorrow.

[yanderederee]

BikeRide

May15th, 2004

tw;mentions of child abuse

before! › here! › after!

-just after the events of DoubleDate…-

Baji has drove down practically every road he knew existed. He loved his bike deeply, and made sure to take good care of it to keep it spotless and loud.

Driving down the road, he almost forgot he should be keeping a slower pace. It wasn’t like he was going fast, contrary to unanimous belief, Baji Mostly followed the law of the road. The only times he really said fuck the speed limit was during the night hours, when his bike roared its loudest, and the streets were at their clearest.

After being caught at a red light, Baji was careful pulling the breaks. “So, how is it? Need me to slow down?” He yelled over his shoulder.

“It’s fine! Just gatta get used to how loud it is!” You yelled back, giggling a little. He smirked. “Anywhere you’re lookin’ to go?” He asked.

A few seconds of deliberation, and you shook your head, smiling. “Surprise me.”

You could barely make out the road over his shoulder, your chin resting against his right back muscle. The street was going by in a way you’d never experienced. Neither of you did much talking. He was too focused on both driving, and how your arms would loosley remain looped around him even when you were leaning back a tad, the air whipping whatever hair peeking out from your helmet.

Being on a bike felt so exhilarating. It felt good. Emotional, you smiled, and rested your forehead against Baji’s back.

“You good?” He yelled out, slowing the motor just a bit so lesson the sound to hear you back.

But your reply wasn’t verbal. Instead, you hugged him from behind, and nodded your head, and he could tell what with your face rubbing against the back of his shirt.

Baji smiled.

“Hang tight, got ‘bout a half hour drive. You ready?” He asked, another red right, and a turn signal indicating he would be traveling Highway.

You grinned, doing your best to look at him, as he was looking back for you.

Through the helmet’s visor, you both caught each others stare, and each others heart skipped a beat. “Ready for anything.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

28 Minutes later, and you noticed the ocean coming into view.

Guess he took your statement to surprise you pretty seriously. Because surprised you were, as you gasped with glee.

How cute.

Once he parked, you could see the sign for Rainbow Bridge. “Figure you haven’t been around this way.”

“I thought you said you were driving me around Shibuya.” you said back, the helmet popping off your head like a doll accessory.

“Eh, plans change.” He chuckled, and helped ease you off the bike. Walking down, you saw a few people line the sand, but no crowding.

“You like taiyaki?” Baji asked you. You rose an eyebrow. “Don’t think I know anyone who doesn’t, why?” You asked back.

“There’s a place on the way back Mikey likes. Thought I’d stop by to grab him some before the meet up tonight.”

You nodded. “I’d like that…” you said, looking out to the waves. He was right, somehow. You hadn’t seen the ocean in a really long time. You tried not to wander the thought, but somehow a churning in your chest wrinkled your eyebrows forward.

Baji noticed this. He stayed quiet for a while, but the feeling Chifuyu left him with made him think he should say something.

Chifuyu was making strides in learning things about you. Your interests and insecurities. Baji didn’t have the nerve to bring it up. He knew there was something there. Your parents, the way you divert attention and remove everyone from your life to avoid… something.

He wanted to know more about you.

“Did you used to come to the beach?” He asked.

You blinked. “Uh, not really.” you said softly, looking out deeper. “Maybe once or twice. Not often.”

You weren’t lying. He could tell. But there was still something there, circling around that head of yours.

Baji Keisuke wasn’t smart. He didn’t know what was the right thing to do sometimes, but he always stood by what he believed in. He had to reach.

“What’re you thinking about?”

he asked, plainly. You snapped your head over to him, eye brows still wrinkled in frustration.

His own gaze stayed out at sea, the quiet leaving room for the waves to help you think.

Slowly, you looked back to the sea too.

“Nothing particular.”

It was quiet once again. Baji couldn’t think of what to say.

He wasn’t sure how asking you up front about your issues would help, or backing you into a corner. You could very well shut him out then and there.

He had an idea of what you had going on. He glanced at you. You did not reciprocate.

Baji looked back out to sea.

“I have this friend,” he started. “Kazutora.”

“He was a insecure little brat who didn’t realize his friends were using him for his money. He only had money cause of his shitty dad. But Kazutora was a good kid. He stood up for his friends, shitty as they were to him.”

Baji looked down, a pinch of hurt making through the cracks. “We both… made a mistake.” He confessed. You looked over at Baji, whose hurt expression only stayed stagnant.

“We both fucked up. We bare the same sin. But he’s the one who swung the damn wrench.”

Baji clenched his fists tight.

“He couldn’t handle what he’d done. The shock of it all scared him shitless.” He looked down at your thoughtful expression. Probably trying to figure out why he was telling you this in the first place.

“His dad was… well, he was a shitty and harsh guy, t’say the least. Kazutora never told me much about him, I just saw some of the aftermath, at first.”

“But that night, I think I saw how bad his dad had fucked him up. The way he was talking, devoid of blame… to protect himself. Inside, he’s a fragile guy. Accepting the reality of what he did would have shattered him, yaknow..” he swallowed hard.

“So he… made up all kinds of shit in his head. Things that didn’t even make sense. And yaknow what?” Baji chuckled humorlessly. “I blame that son of a bitch sometimes. His dad.”

“I had a lot of time to think about it. I didn’t get the shit he was saying back then. But I get it a little better now.” He looked down at his feet. “Kazutora‘s family messed him up. And after he killed Shin… I think that’s why he’s became how he is.”

You looked up at Baji’s angry face, a little confused. “And… how is he now?” You asked.

Baji sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Completely batshit delusional.”

“You don’t want the specifics,” you did. “But he isn’t in a good state of mind. Literally can’t accept responsibility. I think if he did, he’d… he’d probably hurt himself, like how he hurt Shin.”

Baji looked back at you, the story bringing each other’s vulnerability to the surface.

“But you remind me of him sometimes.”

You gapped at him in surprise, but didn’t say anything. He chuckled.

“Like I said, not a Bad way. “ he ruffled your hair.

“Can’t think of anything specific right now, but… you act like him sometimes, about your parents. The way you avoid talking about them..” turning his body so that he was facing toward you, looking serious and sentimental.

“I couldn’t protect Kazutora. Can’t go back in time, but I can at least do the shit I think is right now. Right?” He shook his head.

“You’re worried that eventually, something will happen, and change me into someone... else.” You said softly, straightening your posture and avoiding his set stare at you.

“You worry so much. It’s cute.” You chuckled, “but you don’t have worry about me. I’m very self-sufficient. And I’m smart, right? Nothing’s wrong-“ you tried to once again, deflect his topic. “I don’t think so.” He admitted, eyes still on yours.

“I just want you to be honest. I want to know more about you… and I can’t when you shut me out.”

You clinched unto yourself a little. As uncomfortable as the idea of opening up to someone felt… It was Baji. No one to feel scared around.

You let out a shaky smile. “It’s not important.” You said, almost sadly.

“Guess you wouldn’t mind if I asked, then hm?”

“Asked what?”

“What’s got you so shift eyed? I get that your dad’s strict, but there’s more to it. ‘Sup with your weird ass curfew? Your mom too?” He asked carefully.

“Dad…” you sighed, as though thinking about where to begin. “He…”

“He’s harsh. He works too hard at everything, and can’t handle anymore stress. He has a very strict routine, and expects nothing less of me. He proudly raised me, he reminds me often.”

“Mom’s always just been quiet and judgmental.” You rolled your eyes. “She doesn’t talk. I know what she expects of me. She doesn’t need to waste the effort.”

“They work off schedules, and I only see them both one night of the week. Dad refuses that I leave the house. And mom could literally not care less, long as I mind my respects.”

“It’s not bad.” You tried to divert, but the single tear that ran down your face gave you away.

“… you sure about that?” Baji asked softly. You knew he wasn’t trying to be pushy, but he knew more than you suspected.

The bruises from all the inconsiderate shoving or grab for attention. A back handed slap for a backhanded comment.

You couldn’t answer him. Not verbally.

Your face tore into a guilty expression. Yet you remained composed. Biting your bottom lip and trying to blink back the tears that the memories surfaced.

“This,” Baji said softly, and gently reached out, tapping his index and middle finger onto your covered wrist.

“Did he do that?”

You sighed, wrapping your other arm around to avoid his almost touch.

“It’s not important. I handle myself just fine. Once I’m old enough I’ll move out and it’ll be in the past.”

“Just cause you pretend it isn’t happening doesn’t mean that shit doesn’t affect you.”

“I’m not affected,” you tried diverting, but he was right, and it was becoming overwhelming.

“That why you’re crying?” He asked, making you hiss in betrayal.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here Keisuke.” You roughed out.

“I want you to get angry,” he started, in an argumentative tone.

“Why? I’ve accepted that it’s just the way things are. How he will be until I get out.”

“Shouldn’t accept that shit.”

“Well too bad!” You yelled, heat eating up your neck. “I’m tired of crying about it! Getting upset about it only hurts, it’s easier to just ignore it.

“Nothing I do is ever good enough; There’s always something I did wrong, or somehow I should have known better!

“I’m tired of trying to get his approval, it doesn’t mean anything! He only cares about how I represent the family. All I’m good for is— I.. I’m just a waste of fucking space. I don’t care anymore.” You got out, frustrated. You went into hiding then, crouching into the fetal position, hiding your face in your knees.

“I don’t care anymore.” You said softly, small sobs racking you unwillingly.

Baji sat there quietly. He did it, he guessed. Made you mad. Made you cry. Shit. Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing.

“… it’s normal to care about these things, yaknow.” He comforted. “Holding that shit in all the time is going to back you into a corner. I feel like you’ve pushed past a few breaking points already, haven’t you?”

You sniffled, rubbing the unnecessary emotion from your face. “It doesn’t matte-” you tried biting back, really not in the mood for this conversation. But Baji was a persistent mother fucker.

“‘Does fucking matter,” Baji was losing his patience. Baji Keisuke was hot headed and brash, thoughtful, and stupid. “I don’t care how strong you think you are, I’m serious. This feeling’s gonna eat you alive. You’re the most capable person I know. You’re responsible and resourceful, always handling yourself even when nothing is going right. You are not a waste of space. I-“

Baji paused, chocked up.

“Don’t take that shit,”

He was getting tired of your avoiding gaze, latching his left hand out to pull your cheek to look his way.

Your eyes were wide and red, glassy with tears built up from his harsh words. “You don’t take shit from anyone anymore, got that?” Eyes glued to yours, he practically ordered this. “He ever hits you again, don’t take it. You might not be able to hit back, but I sure as hell can,”

You laughed, genuine amusement whipping your face clean for a few moments, before coming back to scene. Baji smiled at you. “You can always crash at my place if you don’t feel safe, got it?” He regained your attention when you tried to release his hold on your cheek and avoid his hot gaze.

Your cheeks burned with how bold he suddenly became.

“I-I can’t just run away from my problems, yaknow..” you huffed, but tried relaxing in his presence. He did make you feel safe, even if you didn’t know how to talk about this.

“Then fight back.” He smirked. “I’ll tell him off right now if y’want.”

“Tell him off?” You chuckled. “What would you even say?”

“Y/n ain’t you’re fucking stress relief, damn prick! Show some respect, ‘f you don’t want me to knock you a tooth loose! Scum! Asshole!!”

You laughed pretty hard at that. Baji’s exaggerated display of delinquent rebellion speech was just too cute. “I love when you talk like that, seriously!” You couldn’t stop laughing, his cute smile pairing at the angelic sound of your joy.

“There you are,” Baji felt himself lightening up from the harsh mood before, happy to see you smiling again. “There’s my girl.”

You stopped at this, eyes widening at his bold name. This surprised him even more. Immediately catching himself, he slaps his hand over his mouth, face drenched in Red. “Not what I meant! I meant! Wait! D-don’t get any weird ideas!” He lied, spinning and spinning in words and excuses.

“I meant! I-I meant, you look more like yourself, now…” he tried calming his palpitating heart. “You’ve been really gloomy this last week… it’s just nice seeing you smile again.”

Your heart caught in your throat, holding back fresh tears.

What do you mean gloomy? He wasn’t wrong, you were having difficulties managing everything coming up, and the added stress of school and family was only dragging you further. “Guess I’m not that good at hiding things, huh?” You chucked without humor.

“Don’t hide it anymore,” he said. As though that was the moment he was waiting for. “Come to me about it. About everything,” he paused. “Anything,” he looked back into your eyes. “I like the real you. I want to be there for you when you struggle. When you feel like crying, or screaming. Tell me about anything that ticks you off, the things you can’t stand.” He rambled on, pouring his heart out.

He couldn’t help how vulnerable he was, letting you see all the shameless feelings. “I’ll treat you to cake at the cafe when you get a high test score, ‘n tell that bitch Futaba to fuck off next time she tries pawning her cleaning duties to you again.”

“T-that’s enough,” you whined and Baji’s heartfeltness. “I get it, I’ll… try not to worry you so much.”

“Ah-!” He hacked, how gross. “Got it mixed up again, honestly. For someone so smart, you just don’t get it!” He ruffled your hair dramatically, thumping his forehead against yours gently. “I worry bout you cause I want to, you just gatta let me, first. Let me be someone who can help you, even if you don’t need it. Not everything’s gatta be on only your shoulders.”

The tension was heavy; the slip of a confession so close on his tongue. Yet even with his passion reaching new heights, he still found himself tongue tied in what he should say next.

“…Gee, you sure know how to cheer a girl up….” You chuckled to yourself, a genuine smile finally breaking through.

And even though there was still so much to say, Baji felt himself cave back inwards, that smile of yours being enough to satiate his yearning heart.

“Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me … “

“Still. Thank you.”

“… Anytime.”

[daisybianca]

pairing: charles leclerc x femalereader

summary: after a totally rubbish day at work, you come home to a surprise for valentine's day.

warnings: mostly fluff

IT WAS CERTAINLY a cold and rainy afternoon in Monaco, with the wind howling around your car as you drove home.

The weather reflected your sour mood. Today was a stressful day with deadlines to make, manuscripts to finish, and, to top it off, you were spending Valentine’s Day alone for the first time in your four-year relationship.

Charles was away, practicing in the country for the upcoming Grand Prix and you managed to have a quick conversation with him in the morning, but it was cut short as he needed to get back on practice. A few texts had been exchanged throughout the day, but then your boyfriend went quiet just after lunch.

As you drove out of the city, you looked over to the big bouquet of flowers, sat on the passenger seat, with a small smile remembering the shock you felt when the delivery man knocked on your office door with them. Even from across the country, Charles could surprise you.

Around 20 minutes later, you pulled up outside of your home, parked your car and took a deep breath, letting out a big sigh in exhaustion. Closing your eyes, you pinched the bridge of your nose, happy that the day was finally over. All you wanted to do was take a hot shower, change into your pyjamas and snuggle on the couch with chips, forgetting all about your horrid day.

You gathered together your bag and flowers, locked up your car, then entered the dark house. In a daze, you unlocked the front door and reached out to flip on the lights, but abruptly stopped when you noticed an orange glow glistening through the house.

The first thing that hit you was the lush garden blend smell of fresh jasmine and lavender, a scent you instantly recognised as your favourite Bath and Body Works candle, Moonlight Path.

Looking up you could see a trail of candles and tea lights in little cups, creating a path along the hallway towards the bathroom. You dropped your bag on the side table, removed your heels and carried the flowers into the kitchen, leaving them in the gold brushed vase that the arrangement had come in.

With anticipation, you followed the trail all the way into the bathroom and quickly came to a halt when you caught the familiar silhouette stood holding a single rose, waiting for you.

“Hey,” Charles' small voice filled the silence. He sent a smile your way.

Shocked and surprised, you replied in an equally soft voice, “Hey.”

Suddenly all the emotions of the day caught up with you and you couldn’t stop the few tears from falling. “I can’t believe you’re here. Today has been shit and you’re actually here.”

You were pretty sure you weren’t making any sense, your hands were flying around as you tried to make sense of it all.

Your boyfriend stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a tight embrace. “I know baby, I’m here.”

After a few moments, you managed to get your emotions back in check, pulled away from Charles slightly, and surveyed the room for the first time.

The bathtub was full of hot soapy water, one of your favourite Lush bath bomb rested at the side. A bottle of champagne in ice with two glasses was waiting for you on the bath tray, along with a selection of heart shaped chocolates. Once again, candles and tea lights were placed along the edge, creating a flicker of light. A bunch of roses were arranged next to the tub, with a few rose petals floating along the water and scattered amongst the candles.

“Wow, Charles, this is amazing. Thank you so much, baby.” You were completely stunned.

During your long relationship, you had experienced Charles' romantic side often but he always managed to amaze you.

His cheeks went a little pink, slightly embarrassed as he placed the rose he was holding onto the bath tray.

“C’mon, let’s get in this tub!”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The both of you started to strip down out of your clothes ready for an evening of full relaxation.

Charlea climbed in first and sat back then motioned for you to follow suit. You perched yourself in your boyfriend's lap, your back to his front and his hands came around to wrap around your waist, resting on your stomach as you both took a moment to let the day melt away.

You reached over for the bath bomb and dropped it into the water, watching the fizz. Charles popped open the champagne and you poured yourself a glass each, enjoying the cool, refreshing bubbles slipping down your throat. Not being able to resist the chocolates for very long, you started nibbling away, feeding a few to Charles in comfortable silence. Finally you could relax and you rested your head back against his shoulder, letting out a pleasured sigh, content and happy.

He started to cup his hands together and scoop up water to wash your hair. Using some shampoo, he gently massaged your scalp to help you to relax, making you close your eyes and moan at the heavenly feeling. Once the shampoo was rinsed out, Charles'arms weaved their way back around your waist and you leant back against him, entwining your fingers together.

Dotting small kisses along your shoulder, he started to tenderly caress your stomach, stroking his thumb along your skin. Charles trailed his kisses up the side of your neck, towards your ear and stopped.

“Let’s start trying tonight. I know we said we would wait until after this season was over and the craziness of the races, but I just can’t wait any longer.” Charles spoke with such conviction and emotion. His words traveled through your veins, tingling your whole body, creating goosebumps even though you were submerged by the warm water.

“I want a family with you. Now.”

Tears sprung the corners of your eyes as you quickly blinked them away, a few dropping onto the water’s surface. Unlike your blubbering earlier, these were happy tears. You have never felt a stronger love before, ever since Charles waltzed into your life seven years ago, you knew he was the one.

You moved forward and turned around so you were now face to face as you straddled him. His hands rested on your bum, and gave you a little affectionate squeeze. You dragged your hands up his chest, over his shoulders and placed them behind his neck, your fingers playing with the small hairs you found there. You leaned forward to place a firm, passionate kiss to his lips, saying what you needed to without words.

“I love you.”

Charles smiled down at you, his eyes twinkled in the candles glow, “I love you too, love. Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Leclerc.”

●○•°•○●

requests are always open for my wags <3

[byeuijoo]

brave enough 𐀔 k

genre : fluff ⋆ warnings : alcohol consumption ⋆ wc : 1018

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

« hello? » you say as you pick up the phone, squinting at the time on your alarm clock. 1:35 a.m. who dared to call you at such a late hour?

« y/n? i'm sorry, did i wake you up? » on the other side of the phone, you could recognize euijoo's soft voice, one of your best friend's friends. a sigh left your lips as you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes, « yea, but it's okay. what's happening? »

a loud crash in the background of the call made you open your eyes wide, until you heard someone swear, followed by a long sigh of exasperation from the boy on the phone. « uhh.. well, the 4 of us went out to have a drink, and it was planned that we would all sleep at nico's, but yudai categorically refuses to sleep if he's not at your place so.. »

pinching the bridge of your nose, a long, long sigh left your lips. sometimes you really hated that your best friend loved you that much. « alright.. give me 20 minutes and i'll be there. » — after a short chat, you dropped your phone and hurried to put on a sweatshirt and sneakers, grabbing your car keys before you hit the road.

after a quarter of an hour's driving, you finally arrive at the door of nicholas' apartment, behind which you could clearly hear someone singing — or rather screaming in agony. knocking a few times against the door, you wait no more than 2 seconds before coming face to face with nico's panicked gaze. « i can't tell you how happy i am to see you. » a scoff left your lips as you entered the room, waiting patiently for yudai to come. and in less time than it takes to say it, he appears right in front of you, literally falling into your arms with a silly smile on his lips.

« oh my lovely y/n, you're here ! » you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was completely drunk, which made you sigh even more, euijoo's desolate eyes finding yours across the room. « how many bottles did he drink to end up in this state? » you asked, hooking your arm around his waist to hold him close. fuma slid in beside you to support your best friend's nearly asleep body, guiding him with you to your car, before seating him on the passenger side.

« we lost him at some point, he got mixed up with other people... i think he must have consumed more than he should have during that time. » he explained as he closed the door. you nodded at fuma's words as you walked around the car to get behind the wheel, waving to the three boys who waved back at you.

resting your forehead against the top of your steering wheel with a sigh, you looked up at yudai's face, who seemed to be dozing. leaning over him, you grabbed the belt and hung it up, « what am i going to do with you? » you said in a whisper that you were sure he hadn't heard. after making sure he was safe, you started the car and drove back home.

once parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt before turning towards yudai. in a fit of annoyance, you punched him in the shoulder, waking him up slightly, his eyes moving from right to left in a lost way. « little bugger. » you drop as you got out of the vehicle, slamming your door before finding yourself on his side of the car.

now facing him, his eyes explored your face as you frowned. « what? » you say almost aggressively, rising on tiptoe to unhook his belt. « you're cute, » he tried to articulate, playing with a lock of your hair, « and a bit blurry. but definitely always so cute. » — rolling your eyes, you shook your head negatively, ready to flick him on the forehead, but remembering his condition, you suddenly felt sorry for him and decided to simply help him to find his way to bed.

pulling him out of the car, you helped him as best you could to reach your building's elevator, tapping on number three and waiting desperately for it to reach your floor. « i'm seeing you twice. » he said suddenly, losing his balance slightly.

« yes. you're drunk. » you sighed, grabbing his waist with both of your arms. his chin rested on the top of your head, and his long fingers clung to your sweater. and you could swear you weren't ready to hear the words that left his mouth right afterwards.

« yes. and hopelessly in love with you. »

gently raising your face to his, you didn't have time to lose yourself in his deep brown eyes, as the elevator door opened. shaking your head as if to regain your composure, you grabbed him gently and pulled him towards your door, unlocking it in the blink of an eye. « come on, let's get you to bed. » you whispered, helping him off with his shoes, before leading him to the bedroom.

yudai instantly dropped onto your mattress, as you stripped him of his jacket, helping him to wrap himself in your sheets. « okay, g'night. » you say suddenly, ready to get up and leave the room, but his hand grips your wrist. « y/n, » he whispered, straightening up to reach your ear, « don't tell my sober me that i told you i love you. it was a secret. »

a gentle smile took place on your lips, before nodding, watching him fall back onto the mattress, closing his eyes for a well-deserved night's sleep. « okay, i'll keep it a secret until you're brave enough to tell me sober. » and with one last kiss planted on yudai's temple, you left the room for your sofa and spent the night thinking and imagining scenarios in front of the television.

⠀

reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

[sirfrogsworth]

hey man, well done for getting out there with your camera when it must be unspeakably exhausting sometimes. i'm really enjoying all the urban photography! but i'm too shy to say it non-anon! keep it up though!

Thanks!

I've been challenging myself to go on a photography field trip once or twice a month. I realized if I scout a location on Google Maps and do some pre-planning with the street view, I can drive somewhere, set up and take my pictures, and be done within an hour or so.

For my bridge pictures I was looking for a good vantage point and street view had this...

And I knew I could make that work. So on my way to get more eggs I decided to take a detour. I timed it for sunset and headed over there.

Unfortunately there is a really confusing bridge you have to drive over to get there. There was a stoplight, but there was no intersection.

I could not figure out the purpose of this damn stoplight. I was sitting there for nearly 5 minutes and didn't understand why the light wasn't changing. So I thought maybe it was broken or something and just drove ahead.

Then I got to the middle of the bridge and realized my error.

The bridge only had one lane for car traffic. And the light had a sensor that told you if a car was coming from the other direction. And so I was face to face with a car in the same lane.

The area on the right is a bike lane. And there is a huge bump separating the car lane and the bike lane. And unless I wanted to do the world's longest drive in reverse, I had to hop that little curb into the bike lane. As I proceeded forward I could hear it just barely scraping the bottom of my car.

I was very embarrassed.

I'm really hoping I didn't damage anything. But I could tell it was just barely kissing the bottom of my car and only 2 or 3 times so I think it is okay.

But I learned an important lesson.

They don't put out random stoplights for no reason.

In any case, I was able to get my photos and my eggs and be home in about an hour in a half. And that is just about the limit of my energy.

It's actually easier than going to the movies. 3 hours being upright was just too much for me. And I get to spend the next week editing photos and feeling artistically satisfied.

So my photo field trips have been a big help to my mental health and usually only have a day or two of post-exertional malaise. Which is pretty manageable. Going to the movies was usually double that. Which is problematic because I am thinking about going to see Dune 2... which is a 3 hour movie. So 4 hours out and about including driving and whatnot.

I've picked out my next photo field trip already.

This may look like a boring highway, but if I go at night every single one of those cars will leave a long bright light trail that will probably span all the way to the horizon. My only issue is I could really use a companion to go with me. I don't feel safe going by myself. But hopefully I can get that figured out by the time I am ready to go.

I took over 250 photos at the bridge the other night. And I am having trouble choosing which ones are best to share. So I have decided to do some very interesting edits to make them all a bit different. I will be sharing one of those shortly. But I'm a little worried you all are going to get very sick of this bridge.

Thanks for writing in. I hope you have a lovely day.

[ateliersss]

Spark and Heart

Pairing: Ironhide x Fem!Reader Summary: It's one thing to fall in love with a robotic alien, but to expose your feelings in such a humiliating way? Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 3,331

Leather.

You could still feel the leather underneath your skin as the fingernails of your left hand dig into the seat of the GMC Topkick C4500 while your other hand was busy between your legs.

You could still remember the delicious stretch as you slowly inserted first one finger, then a second, and then a third.

You could still picture your body, your back arching against the backrest of the front seat.

You could still not forget how you had spread your legs wider, how you had switched your grip to the steering wheel, how you had moaned his name before you could think about it or prevent it.

The moment the euphoric waves of your orgasm subsided, you became aware of the horror that just happened. You suddenly realized where you were, who you were with.

The deafening silence that followed was heavy on your shoulders. Before you could think twice, you hastily pulled down the skirt of your dress, fumbled for the door handle and fled the truck. You started to walk away, not caring where to, still trying to comprehend what you just had done.

You were ashamed. You wanted to cry. You had just humiliated yourself right in front of him.

After ten minutes of walking, you took a look over your shoulder and saw that he had followed you, a distance of about three meters between you.

Back in the present, you pressed your palms against your eyes and let out a frustrated groan.

Since that day you had avoided Ironhide as much as possible, something which didn’t turn out to be difficult as — although he had only reluctantly left your side and had voiced out how much he hated doing so — he was busy with the other Autobots looking for Decepticons around the world.

“(Y/N)?”

You looked up and into Mikaela's face displayed on your computer.

“Mikaela. Hi.”

Mikaela was the only one you could talk to about it and not just because she knew about the Autobots. No, it was because she was a girl and a friend. Like hell would you tell your brother about your feelings for a robotic alien and about you masturbating as you were thinking about said alien while you were literally sitting inside him.

“What’s wrong?” She asked concerned.

You groaned again, resting your forehead on the surface of your desk. “I messed up.” You mumbled.

“What?”

Sitting up, you repeated louder, “I messed up! Big time. God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Is college life that bad? I thought screws, circuits and such are your thing.” Mikaela grinned.

You laughed weakly, “It is. Ratchet is a sweetheart for answering every of my calls when I needed help, but that’s not the reason I wanted to talk to you.”

Mikaela's eyes darted across her computer screen, scanning the limited space of your room that your webcam was capturing. “Please tell me you're alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I am. I’m not stupid. My roomie is in one of her classes.”

“Good. If you want to talk about something top secret like giant robots you helped to save the world, you really should be alone.”

“Not only that. I would be considered insane if someone heard me say that I am in love with my car.”

Mikaela’s eyebrows shot up.

You instantly avoided eye contact while playing with the pendant on your necklace — a silvery gear that belonged to Ironhide.

“(Y/N), come on. You can talk to me. You were there for me when I needed a girl I can talk to.”

You grimaced in disgust. “Yeah, talk about my brother. Most of the time I just wanted to rip my ears off.”

“But you were there anyway. You listened and helped me. Now I'll return the favor.”

Nodding, you sat up straight and took a deep breath. “So, as you know, ‘Hide drove me back to college after Spring Break was over. The journey took hours and to bridge the time we talked. Well, I talked and he listened. However, after a while the conversation became less one-sided. He answered questions I asked and I answered questions he asked. He’s a very tough cookie, but also… kinda a sweetheart.” You shrugged.

Mikaela nodded, gesturing for you to continue.

“He decided to stay. His reasoning was that I could apparently help him with his eye since I'm a genius at robotics.”

“But you are a genius.”

“I am and I can't wait until I graduate college to work at N.E.S.T. so Que can take me under his wing and I can give him a hand and help him.”

“You really wanna worked there, huh?”

“Of course, their technology is much more advanced than ours. And that’s the thing! Why would ‘Hide, of all people, want the help of a human whose available technology is practical prehistoric compared to theirs?”

Mikaela chuckled. “Well, we're not talking about just any random human here, are we? We’re talking about you, (Y/N). You Witwickys really have something on you that seem to bring alien robots to their knees.”

Now it was you who laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, first of all there is Bumblebee, who hardly leaves your brother's side and always jumps when Sam calls his name. Sometimes I feel like I'm the third wheel instead of a literal car.”

“So?”

“I can still remember Ironhide aiming his guns at Sam and me when we first met him and the others and his way to talk to us. Let’s just say, him taking the position as your guardian just like Bee did for Sam after what happened in Mission City is not something I expected.”

You smiled.

Yeah, you remembered how your brother had explained to you — in his typical Sam-Witwicky-way, with frantic voice and agitated gestures — how his newly acquired car was a robot alien from another planet called Cybertron.

Being three years older than Sam, you were already in college and therefore could only visit your family on holidays. Unfortunately for him, you arrived at home for your Spring Break the same day he encountered the Autobots who were looking for your great-great-grandfather’s glasses.

Your parents greeted you with open arms and big smiles, asked you about your time at college and informed you about the latest things happening in the neighborhood. You noticed your brother’s absence, but they only told you that he had left a few hours ago. After dinner, which Sam didn't show up either, you sat down with a glass of wine in the living room, watching the news with your parents.

Just as the end of the world was being announced, you heard the roar of several engines and Sam's impatient voice.

Your dad apparently heard it too, but you waved him off. “You can ground him later. Now I just want some good old brother-sister-time after months.” You kissed his cheek, ignoring his grumbling.

You were excited seeing Sam after such a long time. Not that the two of you weren't in touch during the time you were away — the last time was a few days ago when he proudly told you about his new car — but it was a whole lot different talking to him in person.

You were just about to open the door leading to the garden when you almost ran into Sam.

“(Y/N)!” He exclaimed. To your surprise, his voice sounded almost panicky. “W-What, uhm, what are you doing… here?” He frantically looked over his shoulders.

You laughed, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, your arms crossed in front of your chest. “Good to see you, too, douchebag. Didn’t miss me?”

“I- No. I mean, yes, of course I missed you. How, uh, how are you doing?”

“Sam, are you okay?” You asked slightly concerned, straightening your posture.

“No, no. Yes, everything’s fine. I just have to… There’s something in my room that I need. Just stay here, I’m back in a minute.” With that he slipped past you and headed towards the stairs.

Laughing, you shook your head at his antics. Typical Sam.

“Great, but I’m going outside. Take your time.”

Sam stopped dead in his tracks before spinning around just in time to see you disappear through the door. “Wait! (Y/N), wait!”

Stumbling, he ran after you.

Shit, shit, shit.

He came to a stop next to you when he saw you looking out into the garden with your hands on your hips.

“Uh, Sam? Does Dad know you’re using his precious grass as a parking lot?”

Five cars were scattered across the lawn: a yellow Camaro with black rally stripes, a silver Pontiac Solstice, a yellow and green rescue vehicle, a blue and red semi truck and, something that got your heart beating faster, a black GMC Topkick truck.

You absolutely loved that car. A 1 1/2 Ton vehicle powered by a 6.6L V-8 Duramax diesel, equipped with an Allison 1000 five-speed automatic, producing 300 hp and 520 lb-ft of torque.

Gorgeous was the first thing that came to your mind as you approached the truck. You traced the red GMC logo with your index and middle finger. While your dad was interested in expensive fancy cars, you were more into bigger ones. They might make you feel tiny, but you just loved being in control of such a bulky and powerful vehicle.

You reached for the hood and caressed the black paint. Without losing physical contact, you walked around the truck. The fingers of your right hand stroked the headlights, ran over the doors and tailgate, before you stood in front of the truck again.

“Aren’t you just a beauty!” You smiled, still not letting go of the car. “Sam, I think I’m in love. He’s so handsome.”

“He is…? What?! (Y/N), please stop touching it… him!”

Facing the truck, you ran both hands over the edge over the hood, intending to open it to take a look inside. “Why? Jealous that a four-wheeled machine gets more attention from a girl than you?” You laughed.

The moment you opened the hood something strange happened. One second you felt the smooth surface of the black metal under your fingertips and the next it suddenly disappeared as if the car had eluded your touch of its own volition.

Strange robotic noises around you filled your ears and suddenly a 22-foot tall robot was standing in front of you.

“You should buy me a drink before you’re allowed to touch me there.” A deep male voice sounded from above you.

Slowly, your eyes traveled from the metallic feet to the legs up to its torso and stopped at the face of the…

Yeah, you really couldn't find another word than “robot” to describe it. Well, judging by the voice, it was rather a he than an it.

You were speechless as you scrutinized his face. Like the rest of him, it was black and silver. You could recognize everything that you could also find in yourself — ears, chin, nose, jaw, even eyebrows. What particularly fascinated you were his eyes. Even though the left one was damaged, you could easily see that they were of a striking sky blue color, glowing bright as they looked down to you.

“Great, absolutely great.” Sam said next to you.

Only now did you realize that he wasn't the only robot in your garden. While your brother lost his shit, you looked from one metal giant to another.

“Hey Sam?” You slowly said, your eyes fixed on the yellow one. “Isn’t that your car?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Sam groaned, “Okay, look. I have to find some glasses that belonged to our great-great-grandfather. They are in my bag pack in my room. Can you please, please, stay here and watch them?”

“Y-Yeah, sure.”

“I will explain everything to you later.” He hastily said and ran inside.

The silence that followed was awkward. I mean, what could you possibly do or say when your dream car just turned into a robot?

“(Y/N)!”

You spun around and saw Mikaela running towards you.

“You’re seeing this too, right?” You asked as soon as she stopped next to you. “I’m not dreaming?”

“Nope.” She shook her head.

You huffed laugh. It was like a dream coming true.

You turned to the into-a-robot-turning-truck and asked, “Can I still take you up on your offer about that drink?”

“And like you said, our technology isn’t as advanced as theirs. The only reason why he wanted to stay with you was, well, you. As far as I can tell he took a liking to you.” Mikaela said, interrupting your journey into the past and bringing you back to the present.

You scoffed, trying to ignore the fact that you were blushing. “The only Autobot I would trust to fall in love with a human is Bumblebee. ‘Hide really is the last person, robot, or whatever, to care that much about humans.”

“Again, not humans. You.”

Huffing a laugh, you shook your head. “I really want to believe you because… well, the reason why I actually called you is… I…”

“Just spit it out!”

“IfuckingfingeredmyselfwhileIwasinsidehim!”

According to the look on her face she only understood half of it, but at the same time it was exactly the half that made you want to disappear into thin air. “Excuse me, what?”

You took a deep breath. “As soon as my teacher finishes the lesson I'm off and go to the garage next to my apartment where ‘Hide is. He then drives us to a field surrounded by forest. It's far from any civilization and he can transform himself there in peace. Sometimes I take my books with me to work on my homework or whatever, but most of the time we talk, we spend time together.”

You remember the times he actually sat next to you and worked with you on your homework. You were in awe with his intelligence, always looking up at him to listen to what he had to say.

“Anyways. Two days ago, he was driving me back to my apartment. I was just staring outside, lost in thought. I don’t know what came over me because then I… I touched myself. There.”

Since Mikaela could only stare at you, not finding an answer, you continued, “I’m madly in love with a robot that is also my car. I got horny when I started to fantasies about him while he was driving me home. I’m sorry, okay? I just couldn’t stop myself. I was so pent up and I just needed a release.”

“Oh my god.”

You cringed. “I know. Call me weirdo for getting off to the thought of a weapon on legs, but I never came that fast in my life.”

You watched as Mikaela shifted in her seat as she thought of the right words to say. “I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She reassured you, “We are friends and we've known each other for a long time. I just didn't expect you to do something so bold while you’re literally inside him, letting him drive you. There is like no way of him not realizing what you were doing.”

“Even in the unlikely event that he hadn't by then, I'm sure he noticed when I screamed and moaned his name while clinging to my seat.” You nonchalantly responded as you saw Mikaela’s jaw drop.

“You…”

“Yes. I didn’t even realize that he stopped at the side of the road. Luckily for me, because the second that blissful moment was over I ran.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s so messed up.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, I decided to just walk back to college. However, when it got darker, I got tired and I just had no energy left anymore. All I had to do was turn around and take a few steps towards him since he had followed me until then. I got back in and asked him to drive me back. He turned around because I seem to have been walking in the completely wrong direction the whole time.” You shrugged. “We didn’t talk about what happened during the drive. Actually, we didn’t talk at all. The moment he stopped in front of my apartment door, I jumped out and sprinted up the stairs while he drove back to the garage by himself. Normally, I always take him there, but after… you know… I was so embarrassed.”

During your monologue you'd been staring at your keyboard the whole time, but when you looked up you still didn't see any judgment or even disgust on your friend’s face. She rather looked at you in a comforting and understanding manner.

“When you told me you needed to have a girl talk, I already expected some spicy details about a boy.”

“Well, there’s a mighty difference between some boy and someone like ‘Hide.”

“It’s close enough for me. So what’s your problem?”

“What’s my… Have you listened to a word I just said?”

“I did and I don’t get it. You have a crush on him, maybe you’re even in love with him. So what?”

“You seem to forget who and what he is and who and what I am. I'm just a weak, puny, pathetic human being. ‘Hide is this giant, strong, powerful warrior who could care less about my feelings.”

Mikaela scoffed and shook her head. “Stop putting yourself down. If you had listened to a word of what I said, you would have realized that a third and uninvolved party told you he’s smitten with you.”

You shook your head, not wanting to allow yourself to hope. “Why? Why did I have to fall in love with a huge robot-alien? It would never work. Just one touch too hard on his part and he could break my bones.”

“He wouldn’t to that.”

“How would you know?”

“Because he already treats you like you’re made out of glass. If you remember what happened in Mission City, you probably also remember all the Decepticons, the explosions and concrete parts of buildings that could have crushed you.”

You nodded, a small smile creeping on your face.

Yeah, you remember all those things. You remember Ironhide in front of you, or next to you, or even above you, shielding you from any damage while you did your part to help, both human and Autobot. He didn't have to do it. Protecting your life was not the top priority, but Ironhide acted like it and had stayed by your side as best as he could throughout the battle. Nobody even remotely did for Mikaela or Sam what Ironhide did for you during the Battle of Mission City.

You also remember falling off a building, the building with the statues that Lennox had sent you and Sam to with the AllSpark in your hands. You remember how scared you were, fearing to hit the ground, but the impact never came. Instead you felt large fingers closing around your body and you heard a rough voice saying, “I’ve got you, little one.”

Mikaela watched your realization with a fond smile. She knew what it was like when people judged you because your knowledge about something was bigger than theirs. That’s how you bonded. She knew her way around cars, you were talented in programming and engineering.

Yes, it was kind of weird, but at the same time it was also poetic. Your heart had always been with machines and as long as she had known you, that was your passion.

What a stroke of luck that someone just like that had fallen for you, Mikaela thought.

“I would suggest that you just talk to him. How bad can it go?”

“Oh, I don't know. Total humiliation? It’s one thing to confess your crush to some guy, but to confess it to someone like ‘Hide?”

Mikaela laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. You wouldn't be the first person who is completely infatuated with their car.”

[spicysix]

「eddie munson X gn!reader • roadtrip!AU」

3k words | prev | masterlist | ao3 warnings: all the touristy informations were taken from this amazing video. if stuff changed between 1980, when the video was made, and '86, well, we'll ignore that! songs of the chapter: the last in line - dio • the first day in august - carole king author's note: it's over :( i had the best time writing this fic, it's my baby, has been my main focus since the beginning of this year and i'm so very proud of having written, posted and finished it. thank you so much to everyone who liked, reblogged and commented. this fic means the world to me. love you all and see you soon!

Friday, August 1

Eddie took you to Seattle.

As you and him had gone to sleep early the day before, after all the activity tired you out, you both woke up naturally before the sun had even risen. Eddie thought it was a good idea to go ahead and get going to your next destination so you could arrive extra early and enjoy the day better.

He was saying that based on the thought that you’d move on after that, head to another new place; but the minute you passed Bellevue and crossed the first bridge to Mercer Island, the soft drizzle cleaning the dusty van and cooling the weather, you looked at Eddie and his face seemed different. He had a new glow to his eyes that you hadn’t seen before so far, a smile was slowly pulling his lips upwards as he stared at the city around him in awe.

And you just knew, somehow.

He wasn’t going anywhere after that.

He drove around for a good while before finding a neighborhood that didn’t look so expensive and a motel that you could afford with the rest of your government money. You still had a nice portion of it, but you knew his was running out, and the prospect of staying in Seattle indefinitely just grew with that. The drizzle had stopped by the time you found a place to stay, and the two of you took turns showering before deciding to go out and see more of the city.

He wanted to explore by foot again and you couldn’t say no to his big pleading eyes so you agreed. The motel reception offered tourist brochure guides just like the one in Sioux did, so you grabbed one on your way out. You and Eddie walked some blocks hand in hand before getting in the first bus headed downtown, and you memorized the number so you’d know how to get back later. Seattle was the biggest city you’ve been to so far in the trip, and the chances of getting lost were higher so you had to pay attention. It wouldn’t stop you from encouraging Eddie’s exploring, though.

You walked around a few more blocks before deciding to follow the brochure’s hint of getting a monorail ride. The monorail made no stops as it was a short ride to the Space Needle, and you and Eddie weren’t the only tourists on it, pointing at the windows to the pretty views of downtown Seattle.

Of course, you caught the elevator to the top of the Space Needle, embracing your tourist selves, and almost lost track of time at the observation deck. The weather had cleared out completely, and you marveled at the almost perfect view of Mount Rainier. It felt like the clouds left as you arrived just so you were able to see it.

“I’ve been to Chicago and Indy, and I know they’re both bigger, but this looks huge,” he said as you were staring at the buildings. You asked him when he’s been to those cities. “I went to Indy last year, a concert. And Wayne took me to Chicago on his last work trip as a truck driver before he settled at the plant when I started living with him.”

You hummed at his answer. “My grandma took me to Chicago too. The month before she passed away. It makes me have mixed feelings about the city because it was so weird and twice as heartbreaking how well she was during our trip, and how fast she got sick and died. But it’s also the place where I made a lot of my happiest memories with her.”

Eddie didn’t answer you, and you honestly didn’t expect him to. But he stepped closer to you and his shoulder pressed to yours as he intertwined your pinky finger with his. He smiled at you, a sweet comforting thing, and you rested your head against his shoulder as the two of you watched the city for a few more minutes.

Eddie wanted to visit the Science Center after you left the Space Needle, so you headed there next and occupied the last bit of your morning. The ticket fees weren’t cheap, but there were so many interesting exhibits inside that it paid off. Eddie was jiggling with excitement, and you walked behind him at all times as he admired and contemplated everything. He couldn’t get you tickets to the planetarium, but you promised him that you’d go another day, and he looked radiant — maybe catching the undertone that you’d be staying in Seattle longer.

You left the museum headed east until you ended up at a park at the southernmost point of Lake Union. You wandered around and there was a huge History museum, the ticket fees cheaper than the Science Center ones and Eddie actually liked History more than he liked Science, so you convinced him to get inside that one too.

And, what a great idea that was.

The Museum’s core exhibit was a full, detailed story of Seattle and you watched closely as Eddie got enthralled with everything about The Emerald City. As he read and learned about the Fire of 1889, and how so many things were destroyed and rebuilt, he touched the scars on his jaw, and you understood how that story got to him personally. Someone passing by saw it, saw him, and his scars, and stared openly and rudely. Eddie was too engrossed still reading the exhibit’s panels to realize he was being stared at, but you glared at them from behind Eddie’s back until they left.

The Museum visit took up the first couple of hours of your afternoon, and you left it and started searching for a place for a late lunch. Eddie told you all about what he had learned, retold you everything the exhibit taught him about Seattle, and you honestly weren’t as enamored with it as he was, but you didn’t mind him rambling about it for hours. Actually, for as long as he wanted to talk, you would happily listen. You might’ve not been that much enamored by Seattle, but you were definitely growing enamored with Eddie Munson.

Your belly swirled by that thought alone.

After some good walking, you ended up closer to the bay and found a place to eat, somewhere with Seattle specialties. It was a small restaurant, not as expansive as the ones by the docks, and you and Eddie tried a few different options of fish, salmons specially, he even tried a sample of oysters.

You left the restaurant and walked towards the waterfront, to the docks and the pier, and Eddie looked amazed to see the bay. You wanted to take him further west, to the sea, watch his reaction to the ocean — but you figured you’d have plenty of time in the future to get there.

The touristy attractions in that area were all alluring, and you chose and paid for a ferry tour. It lasted a little bit over an hour and took you to Bainbridge Island and back. Eddie kept growing mesmerized by the hour, observing the water, the other ferries, the people. And you kept observing him.

A few seagulls surrounded the pier as you returned, and Eddie looked amazed even by them as if he was under a love spell for everything about Seattle.

“Thought you were terrified of all kinds of wildlife?” you teased him, poking him with your elbow and he cackled.

“Guess I lost my fear of many things in the last ten days,” he answered when he finished laughing, throwing his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you back downtown.

You went to a local coffee shop, a funny looking logo that Eddie explained to you, with all his fantasy knowledge, was a two-tailed siren. Got your coffees to go, sat on a bench in a random park and kept people-watching in silence as you drank your beverages.

Eddie spoke up after a few minutes. “I don’t want to go back,” he admitted.

You turned to look at him, but he kept looking forward. The fingers of his free hand were pulling at a loose thread in his jeans, his feet tapping repeatedly. You knew he was nervous. At your reaction, maybe? You almost thought it was funny.

Didn’t he know you’d follow him anywhere by now?

You placed your free hand on top of his, stopping him from ruining his pants further.

“Then you don’t go back,” you assured him.

You almost said we, but all of a sudden you were hit by a wave of uncertainty if he wanted you with him. You didn’t want to assume, or impose, bother him with your complications. So you just comforted him, put your bad thoughts aside.

He smiled widely at you, though, so your chest felt less constricted.

“I’ve always wanted to leave Hawkins, but even more so after Spring Break.” He looked around again, contemplating the buildings. “I feel like I get to start over now.”

You nodded, hummed, and tightened your grip on his leg, rested your head on his shoulder. He let out a deep, relieved sigh, and you were content to be there with him, even if it didn’t last forever. It had been good enough. It had been amazing.

Once you were done with your coffees, you went back to walking around. Eddie acted as if he had never left his house before, and you thought it would become annoying at some point, but his happiness was contagious. You couldn’t be mad at him for finally feeling free. It was the whole idea behind his runaway plan in the first place, wasn’t it? The road trip had no destination, but Eddie arrived at his own destination anyway.

He dragged you inside a bakery for a dessert treat, dragged you inside a bookstore for a new fantasy novel now that he’d have time to read one, dragged you into a quirky little shop for a tiny rainbow pin he promptly attached to the collar of his battle jacket, dragged you to a guy selling postcards — you’d have a lot to tell your friends on your next stop at a post office, you thought.

He dragged you to a new record store. “Think we need more tapes,” he said, and you laughed at his enthusiasm. Neither of you needed new tapes, definitely. Your collection was big enough, but once again you couldn’t deny him.

There was a good number of different tapes there, new music for both of you to discover and enjoy. Eddie, almost completely out of the shell he had created after March, made friends with the other shoppers and the metalhead employee. You stood back and listened to their conversations.

“You’re going to The Central tonight?” the worker asked one of the shoppers leaning on the counter, a friend of his it seemed. “That band you liked will be playing again, I heard.”

The guy seemed excited by it and turned to talk to Eddie about it as the worker rang Eddie’s tapes. “You should go check it out. Those guys are a crazy thing, never heard anything like it.”

“As if punk and metal were smashed together and came out better somehow,” the worker added and his friend nodded, laughing.

He wrote down the place and time to the tavern gig and handed the note to Eddie with his bag full of tapes.

“I’ll see you there,” Eddie said as you both left the store.

You looked at the note over his arm and told him you’d probably have the time to go back to the motel and get ready before coming back for the gig. He agreed and asked a passerby about the bus, you provided him the number, and the local told you where you should catch it.

It wasn’t too long before you were back in your rented room, taking turns showering and getting dressed. Eddie really spruced himself up, found an eyeliner at the bottom of his bag, a beautiful leather jacket and amazing combat boots. He looked so confident, radiant. Gleaming bright, and you were a mere spectator to all of his blinding glow.

You got your best accessories and clothes to wear too, not to stay too far behind him as you dressed to the nines.

The receptionist at the motel called you a cab and when you arrived at the Central Tavern, there was a little crowd of people already waiting in line to get inside. Good thing you and Eddie both had fake IDs to show the bouncer, and you drank a couple of beers before the band went up the stage.

Not even two minutes into their music, you saw it happen. You thought you’d seen the last of that sparkle in Eddie’s eyes, you thought you’d seen the peak of it, but he kept surprising you. It had happened first when you crossed the bridge that morning, it had happened again in the History Museum, but neither of those times it was shining as bright as it did when Eddie felt the music.

The songs were, one after another, gloomy, melancholic, desperate, bitter. The lyrics told of running, of being hunted, of crying and screaming, of pleading and criticizing, of trying and failing, of trying and flying and leaving and feeling free. The words, the heavy basslines, the loud drums and the slashing guitar solos — they all ran through your ears and straight to your gut.

Eddie’s eyes were glued to the band and your eyes were glued to him.

His mouth was hanging open in awe, a few tears wetting his cheeks as the songs kept playing, his hand grasping yours in the tightest of grips, he was almost shaking.

You knew it, then.

You knew he had found whatever it was that he’d been searching for.

Eddie was truly, undoubtedly, unquestionably at home.

The gig ended and he clapped the loudest. Went ahead and talked to the musicians for a good while. You backed away to the bar again, watched him in his element.

When he got back to you he was smiling wide and his eyes were still wet. He was overwhelmed with emotions and you smiled as he hugged you tight for a couple of minutes before gripping your hand again and pulling you towards the door.

“Wanna walk a bit,” he said.

“Aren’t you tired?” you asked, your own feet aching a little from all the walking you’d done through the day. He just shrugged, still smiling.

He was silent as you walked to the waterfront again, north until you reached the piers. The last few ferries of the night were the only thing you could see in the water, tiny little things in their slow paces. It was beautiful, you could admit it.

Your head was spinning.

You could feel he had something to say, was preparing for it, and you were afraid of what it could be. At the end of the pier, Eddie leaned against the metallic fence and stared ahead at the water, still quiet. You were trying to give him the time to process his emotions, cause you knew he just had what was probably a huge realization, but your mind was spiraling.

“I want to stay here,” he finally said after what felt like hours of silence.

“Do you want me to go back?” you asked immediately. His head snapped to face you so fast you were afraid he sprained his neck.

“What?” he asked, searching for something in your eyes. You could feel them burning.

“Do you want me to go back?” you repeated.

Do you want me to leave you?

Or do you want me to stay with you?

Where do you want me? Point me to wherever, and I’ll follow.

“We gotta talk, right?” you asked instead. “We don’t wanna complicate it, right, so we gotta talk. I’m talking, I’m asking: do you want me to go back to Hawkins?”

Eddie stared at you for a long minute. “Why would I want that? Do you want to go?”

You shook your head furiously. “I don’t want to go. I want to give you space if you want it, to settle in, to find yourself.”

His eyes softened. He turned to face you fully, and you mirrored him. He grabbed your hand again, cupped your jaw and caressed your cheeks.

“I don’t want space. I want you.” He smiled and wiped away the lonely tear that escaped your eye. “Nothing with you, nothing about you is complicated. There’s no complicating this, no complicating us. We’re as simple as breathing. You make it so. I’m so glad you invaded my van and came with me, baby. You’ve no idea how glad I am. We’ve been through so much, we’ve come so far and I’m not talking just about all the miles we’ve traveled.”

You let out a wet laugh. The knot in your chest loosened and you couldn’t hold in a sob. He smiled wider, knowing it was happy crying. He brought you closer, touched his forehead to yours.

“We had so many adventures and experiences and I feel- I know there’s still so much waiting for us out there,” he pointed to the city to your side, before grabbing your hand again. You didn’t take your eyes off of him, though. “The whole world is ours now, it can start right here, and I want you with me. Our adventure just began.”

“There’s many more to come, right?” you asked.

“Many more to come, baby,” he answered, leaned in to kiss you, smiling against your lips and you knew it, then. You knew you had found whatever it was that you’d been searching for.

You were truly, undoubtedly, unquestionably at home.

Eddie was your home.

You couldn’t wait for all your tomorrows with him.

taglist: @amira0303 @rupsmorge @wyverntatty @inourtownofhawkins

[ahnsael]

I'm surprised to realize that I have not mentioned this here.

I left my job at the casino. I was under a microscope from somebody above my boss. I don't know who, but that doesn't really matter.

I have health issues. I was in the emergency room twice in a week. Then I went home early a few times after throwing up into trash cans at work because it would come on too suddenly for me to make it to the restroom. As a result, I was put on probation.

The writing was on the wall, so instead of getting fired I terminated my own employment. Everybody has been nice about it (at least those I have spoken with). And I hold no anger towards the casino or anyone there. Not even whoever it was who decided that I was on very thin ice, and tap dancing. Depending on what comes next, they may have done me a favor.

For now I am resting after over seven years of working on my feet, and adjusting back to a more "normal" sleep schedule. I used to wake up at 9pm for my graveyard shift. Today I got up at 6pm. It's a process.

I still wake up for moments to roll over and think "Who am I wrking with tonight? What specific things do I need to get done tonight?" And then I realize that neither question applies anymore.

I know I burned the bridge with the company. I only gave 18 hours notice. But I am honestly thanking everyone I speak to with whom I worked. Until receently, it was overall a wonderful experience. I even enjoyed it recently, but had added stress because of the situation. But I generally like (almost) everyone I worked with (and those I wasn't a fan of are gone -- I even get along with employees who almost everyone else does not like; it's all about how you approach them). I had over seven good years there. But it was time to move on.

There are a LOT of times throughout my career, and different jobs, where I ask an employee to do something they would rather no do and they respond "If any other manager had asked me to do that, I would refuse. But since it is you, I'll do it." When I was new at the casino, I told a porter (read: custodian) that my first rule of being a manager is to never ask someone to do something that I would not do. One night, someone vomited on the restroom floor. I couldn't just walk away from it, so I grabbed a handful of towels and started cleaning it up. My porter just happened to walk in as I was doing it. I did not advertise that I would be doing it. He walked in, saw me on my hands and knees (back when my hands and knees worked right) and said "Wow, you really did mean it when you said you wouldn't ask us to do anything you would not do!" From that point on, he never complained when I asked him to do something.

Iam really going to miss both my coworkers and my guests. I went in last night just to collect a few personal things. I forgot about my umbrella, but it felt awkward being there so soon after resigning. I refused to go into the office. That wouldn't feel right. The office is employees only. So the other manager grabbed a few things, then we spoke for a bit and shook hands. This is the manager with whom I did not get along for months. They we had it out and understood each other better and then we got along. We shook hands. I got to wish my security guard the best and shake his hand. I got to say goodbye to a bartender with whom I generally only worked with once per week, but we had good conversations on that one night per week. I got emotional enough that I had to let it pass before I drove home. Driving home with blurred vision from crying would probably be about as dangerous as drunk driving.

I still get emotional over it. I had been there since mid-July 2016. This is the end of a long chapter in my life. I am still a little surprised I went through with it. But I was going to be pushed out if I didn't walk out on my own. And I know this was not what my boss wanted. He did not want to suspend me Friday morning. It was onlytwo days, but it also came with 90 days probation, like when I first hired in, but more strict suspension. If I even left work early, I was likely going to be fired from the sounds of it, even if I am sick.

I woke up to a message from the assistant property manager (he was part of the disciplinary meeting when I was suspended) telling me he thinks I did the best thing for my physical and mental health.

There is only one sour taste that I have in my mouth.

We were robbed at gunpoint in July of this year. Our county has an app where I can make sure they are still in jail. But one of our employees has severe PTSD after having a gun aimed at them. I was in a break area when the robbery happened and didn't know it had happened until the robbers had left. I called 911, not knowing that another employee was already on the phone with them. AFTER I called 911, the employees said that the gunmen had said they would come back to shoot and kill us all if we called law enforcement. I may not have been out there, but I have been robbed at gunpoint. This was mid-2000s. I still have flashbacks.

So if they said they didn't feel safe and wanted to go home, I would let them. I have a heart. Sure, it left us short staffed, but my most recent boss would agree that part of being a manger is running the business, but we also have to care for our staff.

Then it came down from HR that if this person called off or went home early, we had to give very specific reasons.

First, they already know the specific reasons. They are just being picky. They have a note from this person's psychiatrist detailing how deeply her PTSD goes. One other time she had fallenwhile getting out of bed and felt like she may fall again during her shift, and I put that down as the reason. But I was being askedd to go deeper into asking about and announcing her private medical information. That rubbed me very much the wrong way.

This is not the bartender I saw last night, but they are one of the first people I told after I made it official and we spoke on the phone and wished each other well. We do have each other's phone numbers so it was not necessarily goodbye. But she is this sweet ld lady who can party. Emloyees are entitled to one free "after shift" drink whether they are gambling or not (if not gambling they have to pay for any further drinks but the casino's drinks cost less than any other bar nearby). She ordered a shot of Fireball and a manager who is thinking of leaving early next year (one of two planning to leave -- I don't know that they will be able to maintain a 24-hours-a-day operation with as many of us as they are losing) decided, as a joke, to fulll a "bucket glass" with Fireball (if you aren't familiar with "bucket glass," think rum & Coke sized, but not the tall 12 or 16 oz glass). He figured he was just wasting booze but that it would be funny.

Then this sweet old black lady, always demure and quiet, picked up the glass and slowly downed the entire thing in one go. The rest of the graveyard crew and the manager just stared and dropped our jaws. It really was impressive. The manager asked if she wanted another one and she wisely said no.

This same guy once made me a Jack and Coke in a tall glass and filled it up about 7/8 of the way (after icing the glass) with Jack Danieals, then just added a splash of Pepsi (they are a Pepsi company). I nursed that thing for about an hour and a half. I wasn't going to down it like a bucket glass of Fireball and then drive home. The other crew member who had a drink with us had a wine glass ful of tequila. And the company wonders why the cost of goods for the bar is so high. That bar will never in the history of the casino make a profit. It's their loss leader. Most drinks are complimentary. But it keeps people at the slot machines, which is where the profit comes from. Even when someone wins a huge (and my huge, at this casino that is as high as $15,750), it is actually good for the bottom line. Because they tell their friends, who then come in thinking they will win. And paying jackpots was my favorite part of the job. There is just something about laying out thanksands of dollars in front of someone while counting it out to them. I always loved when people win.

After all, I also watched people go completely broke chasing the big win. I saw one once (well, I didn't actually see it, but I saw the afttermath) run out of money, drain their bank account, run out of money again, then beg people for $3 in gas money to be able to get home (if I would have seen that, I would have had to ask her to leave, but I found out after the fact). When someone (another sweet old lady who I haven't seen since COVID hit so I have a feeling she is no longer...capable of visiting, let's put it that way) told me, I saw the one who had asked for $3 -- you guessed it, gambling that $3 to try to turn it into more.

But people do not seem to understand how slot machines work. Sure, they pay back generally close to 90% of what they take in. That is mandated by the state. But that is an OVERALL percentage. The machines will take and they will take. Then one person will get lucky, and the machine stays in compliance. There is never a guarantee that a guest will win at all. I once put $60 in a machine, bet the minimum of 75¢, and ran out of money without a SINGLE winning spin. Not even a win that paid less than my bet. Not even a one penny win. I never played that game again. But I have paid jackpots on that machine. I was just the unlucky one that time.

Another time, before I started spending more for better health insurance (and thank goodness I did that), I had a game that I liked to play. Most machines have higner payout percentages if you bet more. I would take $200 of each paycheck and use it in that game and either play until that money was gone or until I hit something good. And even if I lost, I had the means to make it until the next paycheck. After upping my health insurance, I was gambling maybe $20 per month at most.

But this one day I was betting $8.80 (it has a Chinese theme and the way the number 7 is considered lucky by many here, there it's the number 8 that is considered lucky). I got a reel combination that resulted in a win of $4,320. On that day, I was the lucky one. For that matter, every employee working at the time (other than the manager -- graveyard is supposedly the only shift where managers can accept tips because we are wearing more hats as far as job duties), some other managers do, but I figure that is between them and the company) -- but every employee other than the manager was handed a $100 bill by me. Tips/tokes/gratuities are NEVER required. I've had to have this conversation many times over the years when employees help with a jackpot and there is no tip. I have to tell them "Yes, they just won $4,000, that does not mean they have not lost a lot more than that." And I could look at their stats if they were using a player's card and see that even after a jackpot like that, they have still lost a lot of money.

It was a very interesting business to work in. I do not at all regret my time with the company. And my boss was very kind when I called him at 5am to tell him I would not be working there anymore, effective immediately. SSo yeah, I deefinitely burned the bridge with the company. But I am staying positive about the people I worked with and the overall experience. Behind Disneyland, this was the second favorite job I have ever had. I may be sad about how it went down at the end, but overall it was a fantastic experience and I will remember the good years I had. I met good people. I worked with good people. I served guests who were awesome to have in the casino.

Granted, there was the guy who tried to jump through a window trying to escape deputies. There was the robbery. There was the guy (who thankfully moved to the other side of the country) who would come in hammered off his rear and want drinks. He once offered me $10,000 for one beer. I said that even if he pulled out $10,000 on the spot, I would still say no. I doubt he had $10,000 on him. I would show him the door, then he would come back even druner, and with no memory of having been there earlier. There were fights. We had a guy break one of our doors (not the window thing -- he actually slit the wood slamming it open because he was upset that I asked to check his ID to make sure he was old enough to be there).

There was some workplace drama between people, but I did my best to stay out of it. If I could understand where both were coming from, I would sit with them and help them hash things out. But if one person came to me complaining about an issue they have with someone else but I'm not seeing what they were (I wrote "are" -- I have to get used to past tense with this job), I just tell them I don't want to hear the complaints. I heard it already, made a decision not to act because I don't see the thing they are complaining about, or it does not involve my shift at all,but people tend to just harp on it (sort of like me with this post).

There was once (quite a few years ago) we had an emplyee ask to go home sick. Their request was granted. Then they sat at a slot machine gambline for hours. We had a manager have too much to drink and cause a HUGE scene. Because of them, a rule was made that managers could not have more than two drinks in a day at the casino (just the one Jack and Coke I had that one day broke that rule). But that rule went away when that manager left. It was a specific rule to keep them in line.

But the good FAR outweighs the challenges. Iam curious to see how things go now that I am gone. But it would probably have to be through the grapevine. When I went in to pick up a few personal items, it felt strange even though I refused to go into the office (after all, the office is "employees only" and I no longer qualify). Just just being there, at least this soon after my employment ending, felt odd.

But I will find something new. It is a new chapter. A fresh start. A chance to maybe sleep normal hours (not sure I will get there; depends on what the nex step in employment is). And two fellow managers have offered to write me glowing recommendations, so that is good. I have definitely burned the bridge with the company. I have not burned any bridges with those with whom I worked. And Ihave no reason to burn any bridges. I worked with a good group of people. This boss was up there with the best bosses I've ever had. And I know everything coming down on me was not his decision (trust me, I've worked for him for over seven years; he is not a liar so if he says he is being told to do something by above him in the company, I believe him). He has proven over the years that he genuinely cares. He once LITERALLY saved my life by sending me to the hospital. Nurses, after doing blood work, were shocked I was still even alive. I had told my boss that the next day was my Friday, so I would go then to not miss work if I was kept overnight. Nurses said that if I would have ignored my boss and waited, I would have definitely died that day. Three days and two blood transfusions later, I was back on my feet and back at work.

So again, despite the fact that it came down to "leave on your own terms, or their terms?" I will always look back at my years there as a good experience. I learned a lot. Not just about the casino business, but how to be a more effective manager. As inconvenient as the times of training classes can be (great, let's go to a noon two hour training class when I have to be up at 9pm for work), the training program is good. And ongoing. You don't just go through initial training and then you're on your own. Classes are even repeated to keep it fresh. There is a binder of shift manager operating procedures in the office that we are told to read four times a year. Most of it is mundane and simple and there were pages that I skipped because I was there for so long I knew them. But there are also some special circumstances covered that it was helpful to re-read. Tehnically I was breaking a rule when I gave CPR at the casino one night. But if a 911 operator is telling me to do it, I am not going to argue. It's like the casino attendant who saw the robbery starting and was not seen, and immediately went outside to call 911, and told them -- when the robbers left -- which way they went, he could have gotten fired for that even though he did EXACTLY the right thing; not per policy, but as a person. All of the managers, including me, GANGED UP on HR to make sure he would not lose his job for having his cell phone on him or not having a manager be the one to make the call (I was uot back, and the other manager was a little busy being held at gunpoint and being threatened with death if he so much as touched his cell phone).

There are things about the company I will never understand. Like, I have an Apple Watch, and a new policy was emailed from HR a few days ago saying they are not allowed. And yet when I was part of drop night until this past monday, whoever was counting money would call me on my personal number (even not carrying my phone, even though I did start carrying it against the rules), I could answer on my watch. If I am not supposed to have it, why did my bosses call me on it?

But I did like when people would see me talking to another manager on my watch. I felt like Inspector Gadget. The difference is that his calls with Penny or Brain (did he have video calls with Brain? I forget) were video calls. Mine were audio calls.

Anyway, I need to shut up. I just have a lot of emotions in me right now. But the fact that my boss did not try to convince me to stay (he can be VERY pursuasive) and my other casino-level boss is telling me that he thinks it was the right thing makes me feel better about the decision. They know I got out before I was forced out. I was not sure about the "forced out" option but I had a feeling. Their reactions tell me that my intuition was correct. I do not know what is next, but I needed to turn that page. I just happen to be on a blank page right now. But the text will continue. I am going to miss the heck out of that job. Not as much as I miss Disneyland, but they were good to me for a long time. It's just a shame that I fell under the microscope because of health issues that they have documentation from doctors about. But I will not let that spoin my memories. A few people say I should sue them for holding medical issues against me, but I do not want that hassle. When I went down in January, I called my boss to tell him that I was ready to return to work, but told him that I would be using a walked. He said "absolutely not in a walker." Then he got chewed out about reasonable accomodation, and he let me back. And the funny thing is that whoever enforced reasonable accomodation is likely the same person who now wanted me out. I do not know that for sure.

So, yeah. That happened. I will see what the next chapter entails. All I know is that she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three (Beauty and the Beast reference unrelated to my situation). As emotional as this time is, I have to find those moments of humor and happiness. It is a huge change in my life, but I have to remain myself, even under stress. And the encouraging words of even my bosses tell me that not only do they accept my decision, but they want what is best for me in the long run.

It's almost like the last time I was at Disneyland in 2019. I saw one of my old managers on the parade route irecting the sales of glow merchandise (it was always his thing) and I walked up to say hello. I look a LOT different than I did as a cast member. I'm much older and balder and more wrinkly. He recognized me as soon as he saw me. And right before the Main Street Electrical Parade (I think -- maybe it was Paint the Night by then; speaking with a former colleague who was maybe my best boss ever was more important to me than the parade). I remember "shooting out the lights on Main Street." I would take two glow swords and recreat the 1992 opening ceremony to the Barceloa Olympics (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gmRf41SVHS4). Except opposite. That guy used a bow and flaming arrow to light the Olympic torch (and it really was an impressive shot). I used my (fake) bow and arrow to turn the lights off for the parade. I always got at least some applause directed at me, not just the parade. I used to walk down Main Street U.S.A. and get cheered. Even during other parades, I would (badly) dance (I am not much of a danceer). But people recognized that I was trying and they would applaud.

I will not remember the casino QUITE as well as I do Disneyland. But I wil remember it fondly.

There will come a time when I will make another appearance at the casino. After I am employed again, I may even gamble some. But it is too soon, other than picking up some personal items yesterday.

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Perfect Storm - Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: Hi friends! I know I’ve been rather absent with posting stuff but life has been HECTIC! I work two jobs, seven days a week right now so it’s a lot and I’m exhausted. Anywho, this imagine is part of @supraveng ‘s follower challenge! I’ve been working on this since like August of 2022 or so and was supposed to be done by the first of September but she allowed me an extension. Thanks for that babe, and congrats on 500 follows! 

Masterlist of all Masterlists| Supernatural Masterlist

Warnings: FLUFF! Breakdown, crying, comfort. Someone has a HUGE breakdown so if that’s a trigger for you, I am sorry!

Word Count: 5,887

Thanks for being patient with me friends! Love to you all!

It’s been six weeks since we’ve been on the road, trying to figure out where Chuck could be hiding. That asshat has been messing with Sammy and I for way too long, trying to take over the world. Sure, he’s God but that doesn’t mean he has to control every little thing and try killing us in the process! And since we have no leads, we’ve been trying to find other cases to work and more people to save. I was currently sitting behind the wheel of my beloved Baby, Sam beside me, scrolling through his phone, while AC/DC played from the car stereo and a pretty impressive drum solo came up.

“Dean, for once can we listen to anything but AC/DC?” Sam asks, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as I continue my solo. 

“Sammy, what have I always said?  Driver picks the music,” 

“Shotgun shuts his cake hole, I know,” he finished my sentence. “But what if I drove?”

“Oh risky question, little brother” I reply.

“I’ll drive when you sleep.” 

“Yeah and how often do I actually sleep, Sam?” 

Last time I slept without a nightmare was…well I don’t really know. The nightmares have been getting increasingly worse the last few months. Not that I’ve slept well before that but since Jack accidently killed our Mom, that’s been a struggle. I’ve watched her die twice now, something no child should ever have to see, especially at four years old. But even the second time, it's pretty bad. I still hate the kid for what he did but I’ve forgiven him…for now. Sam had a somber look on his face and knew I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

“So get this, there have been an unusual amount of homicides in a small town in Northern Texas, more than they normally deal with in the year, in just six months.”

“Huh, doesn’t sound like our kind of thing. People are just nuts today, Sammy,”

“True, but there is something that seems like we would do. Each time someone goes to recover the body, there is nothing left.” Sam says.

“Okay that might be something we could work on but, I’m not convinced it’s a monster yet,” I say.  

“Maybe not, but I think it’ll be worth checking out.”

Redirecting our path, I drove Baby in a U-turn and headed off to the nearest small town in Northern Texas, where these cases stemmed from. Several hours passed and we ended up in Wichita Falls and rolled into a small motel on the east side of town. Once we were settled, Sam pulled out his laptop and began typing away at the keys while I searched for a place to get a good burger by looking through flyers in the room. Sam tuned into a police scanner and soon enough there was a call in regards to suspicious activity near our motel.

‘”Dean, I think we got something,” Sam says, turning the volume up.

“All units, we have gunshots out by the WayfarerMotel. RP (reporting party) advised at least six shots were heard, no sound of vehicles but advised there were people arguing on the south side of the property near the freeway,” A female voice called over the radio and responses of “10-4” were soon followed.

Sam and I grabbed our guns, checking to make sure they were loaded and ready to go. We didn’t interfere with the police but did offer them assistance when it came to the investigation aspect. Looking out the windows, we watched as several vehicles had been on scene and officers were searching for the suspect. Soon after, more shots were fired, shouts of “he’s trying to run” and soon enough, someone was handcuffed. 

“Wait, where is the body?!” Someone yells and a swarm of officers and other investigators gathered around to see if there was a victim. Sam and I took that as our queue to come on scene.

“Gentlemen, this is a closed scene” a voice said, turning to shoot us questioning looks.

“It’s okay, we’re from the FBI, I’m Agent Stan, this is my colleague Agent Lee,” I say flashing my fake badge, Sam following the lead.

“We didn’t call in the FBI,” another officer said.

“I’ll be honest, we were off duty and heard of the incident, wanted to see if we could help out.” I said, trying to ease the confusion.

“I’ll allow it,” one of the Sergeants on scene said, seeming to not care about the fight.

“So what’s happened? We’ve heard there’s been a string of homicides with no victims found?” Sam asked, pulling a notepad out of his pocket.

“Not a single one and this is abnormal for the city to have this many homicides in one year.” An officer, later introduced as Officer Hughes, explained the incident.

“Any leads on what is happening? Is any suspicious person found or any other activity that all the cases have had in common?” 

“Well we did find something in each case that relates them together in some bizarre way. Each case has the same call for service. Caller calls in, advises of gunshots, hears people arguing, we get on scene and only one person is found. Aside from the callers, just one person is found. We handcuff them just for safety precautions but the majority of the time, we end up letting them go. In all my years I’ve worked in law enforcement, I’ve never seen anything like this. No definite suspect, no found victims. So we can’t fully rule them as homicides either because there is nobody.” Officer Hughes said.

“Well we might be here for a little while then so we can help out,” Sam said, trying to add a helping hand.

“That won’t be necessary gentlemen, we have enough people on this,” Officer Hughes said, dismissing us as he got back to his vehicle. 

“Well that went well,” I said, sighing in exasperation.

“Come on, I bet if we head back to the police station, someone might be able to give us some information.” Sam said, settling into the passenger seat.

I grabbed a few supplies before I sat behind the wheel of my precious Baby and found the station was not too far from our motel. Pulling up, I find a parking space across the street from the building and Sam and I walk up the steps to the front doors of the station. It was the eerily morning hours, not too many people on the streets, the perfect time for people to commit crimes. Opening the large door, a young woman sat behind the desk, looking up at us when the door slammed behind us.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” She asks, eyes flitting between the two of us. 

“Uh yeah, I’m Agent Stan, this is Agent Lee, we’re with the FBI,” I say and we both flash our badges.  

“We were just on scene of the shooting by the Wayferer Motel and we weren’t able to get a lot of information. Do you think there’s anyone we can talk to about this?” Sam says, giving a small grim to the woman.

“Well given the fact that it's three in the morning, most people aren’t here and won’t be here until eight or so. Y’all might want to come back,” she says, looking back to her computer in front of her.

“Maybe you can help us. Do you know anything about the string of potential homicides that have been happening here lately?” I say, trying to turn on my charm as best as I could.

“No and even if I did, I’m not at liberty to discuss cases with anyone, even other law enforcement,” she says.

“Alright well, here’s my card, whenever someone is available, have them give me a call. You have a good rest of your morning,” I say, shooting the woman a wink.

The next morning, we headed back to the station to see if there was anyone we could talk to. “Good morning gentlemen, how can we help you?” Another lady at the front desk said as we walked to the window. 

“Yeah we were here last night trying to see if we could talk to anyone about the shooting at the Wayfarer Motel.”

“Do you have any information about it?” The lady asked.

“No but we were on scene and we’re with the FBI,” Sam and I flashed our badges as soon as I said FBI.

“Let me call over to the detectives and see if we can’t find someone to come talk to y’all.” 

“Thank you,” Sam says and we both start looking at the displays hung around the lobby.

“Agents.” A male in a black polo shirt and khaki pants with a badge around his neck walks to us and shakes our hands.

“I’m Detective Parker, follow me,” he says, leading us through a door and taking him into a room with a table and some chairs.

“So y’all were on the scene last night?” Detective Parker asked us.

“Yes we were staying at the hotel and we’ve heard about some of the incidents where someone is shot but there’s no body’s left,” Sam explains.

Detective Parker sighs and runs a hand down his face. “It made no sense as to what happens to the bodies after they’re shot. We have no answers and our citizens are getting frustrated as to why their family members’ bodies are not there to bury or cremate them.”

“And that’s why we’re here. Tell us everything you do know,” I say. 

A few hours go by as we dive deep into the last weeks of the calls and cases from the City. I get up to go grab some coffee and stumble to an office where a bunch of ladies are sitting behind computers and answering phones. 

“Well hello ladies,” I smirk to the room of beautiful women.

“Who are you?” One of them pipes up and asks. 

“I’m Agent Stan of the FBI. I’m here helping with some of the shootings y’all have had here. Y’all know anything about those?” I ask.

“We heard about them but we don’t know anything. The guys don’t tell us anything, just what happened.” Another clerk said and she immediately caught my attention. She had long (y/h/c), bright (y/e/c) eyes, and she didn't bother looking at me much longer after that first comment. It seemed like she wasn’t impressed with me and that made me more intrigued by her.

“I see, is there anything you can tell me sweetheart?” I ask, trying to turn on my charm but again, she seemed unimpressed.

“That’s it now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get back to,” she says, her tone harsh but I found it interesting. 

“Pardon me ma’am,” I say using my best Southern voice but the look of annoyance on her face proved she couldn’t care less.

Most of the time,  I can get away with some flirting with women, this one? She’ll be more of a challenge.”

“Agent Stan?” A voice called to me. I stand and follow him back to another room off set by the clerks area. 

“So, what kind of leads do you have, if any?” He asked, Sammy was  already in the room. 

“Well, we kind of have a few ideas but you wouldn’t believe us,” I said, shooting a pointed look to my younger brother. 

“Try me, I’ve been in this for a long time. I’ve heard just about everything,” the lead investigator on this and other shootings said. 

“We think it might be a series of soul eaters” I say.

“What now?” 

“Soul eaters, they are exactly what you think they are. Since all the bodies that have been killed here are basically hallowed out shells, we think there may be several around the area. Unfortunately, they are not easy to kill but we do know someone who can and can set the souls back to the bodies they were taken from,” I explained as rationally as I could but I knew it seemed crazy to those who were not used to hunting. 

“Well that is definitely something I didn't expect to hear but it also isn’t the most out there answer I’ve heard either.”

“Alright, well let us call our guy and see what he says about it.” I say, giving a pointed look to the detective, wondering what other crazy things he’s seen but deciding not to ask. 

I grab my phone out of my pocket and scroll down my contact until it stops on the name. I hate asking this guy for help but he’s our only source for this case so I push back my personal feelings and press the call button. 

“Hello Dean,” his accented voice, full of entitlement, rang through my ear.”

“Ketch, we need your help,” I say.

“Well hello to you too,” he says and I can just hear the dumb grin on  his face.

“Yeah hi, listen we’re out here in North Texas and we’re helping the local police on a case we think you may have experience in,” I say, getting straight to the point.

“Oh, where in Texas are you? My daughter happens to be out there and she works at a police department,” he says.

“Since when did you have a kid?” I ask.

“Oh, never mind that. Where am I going?”

“Wichita Falls.”

“That’s where my daughter lives!” 

Oh crap, so Ketch’s offspring works at the police department here? Awesome.                                                                                                                  

A few hours later and we’re back at the scene of the crime. Ketch wanted the low down on what we’ve discovered up to this point so we decided to meet at the scene and go over what we know.

“So the bodies are never found?” Ketch asks.

“Nope they’re completely gone. Nothing is left behind but there’s always signs of some form of homicide,” Sam explains.

“And you lads are thinking its,” he trails off until I pipe in with our research.

“Soul eaters, except they’ve evolved so much over the years, they’re not just taking souls anymore.”

“Interesting, well you called the right person then,” Ketch says, standing up and heading to his car.

“So?  What does that mean?” I say, Sammy and I quickly follow him. 

“It means that I’ve seen it once before,” he said, Sam and I catching up with him. 

“You have?” Sam asked.

“A long time ago, yes. It was a rather tragic event for the families but we were able to get the bodies back.”

“How?” I ask.

“Well it won't be easy but we have to…make a sacrifice of sorts,” he says, making his way back to his car. “Follow me back to the station and I’ll go over the details with detectives.” 

We jump inside Baby and speed down the highway, much like Ketch had left. When we finally pulled back to the station, it was nearing five o’clock and a lot of the employees had been leaving for the day.

“Dad!” A female voice says, bounding over to Ketch and wrapping her arms around him.” 

“(Y/N)!” he says, turning to the girl I noticed in the criminal investigation section earlier; no.

“Gents, I’d like for you to meet my daughter, (Y//N), (Y/N) this is Sam and Dean. They are friends of mine.”

“Oh the Winchesters? I thought you didn't like them?” She says and I chuckle; I like this girl.

“Well not at first, no, but we’ve all come to an agreement of sorts.”

“So, you’re Ketch’s daughter,” I say, looking at the woman.

“Not by blood. He adopted me when I was a kid. My bio parents died in a hunting accident when I was six and Ketch happened to be there, so he took me in,” she says.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here, (Y/N),” Sam says, reaching to shake her hand; I just nod at her.

I couldn’t believe it, even for a minute, I thought a girl related to Ketch was beautiful. 

As our investigation went on, so did the opportunities for (Y/N) to show up unannounced, or so it seemed. Like, I thought she had a job at the department, but somehow she always ended up there, along with her Dad, to help assist us in our investigation. Not that I really minded her company but it was a little…odd.

“Don't you have something better to do?” I ask her as she’s going through some paperwork from the shooting.

She stopped flipping through the pages halfway between the pile and looked up to meet my gaze. “I’m helping on this case, y’all need some help sometimes, right?” 

“Well yes but I thought you had another job to do?” I ask. 

“I’m getting the feeling you don’t want me around Winchester,” she says, now more frustrated with me.

“I don’t care what you do,” I say, trying to play off how I was feeling underneath the surface. To be honest, I did care what she did. I barely know the girl but she’s getting under my skin and inside my head. What the hell is happening here I have no idea but all I know is I like being around her.

“Well clearly you do otherwise you wouldn’t be asking,” she says, raising an eyebrow in a challenging way.

Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought to myself so I did the best thing I knew to do; I walked away. I don’t know what my problem was but this had to stop. I couldn’t like Ketch’s daughter, her father is literally the biggest douche I’ve ever met so no way could I get involved with her. But the way she moved when she walked, swaying in the slightest way, her head held high like she owned the place. She didn’t  look a thing like her Dad but there was more to her than that. She had that long (y/h/c) that flowed past her shoulders and down her back. It was just a little wavy and seemed to have more than one color in it but it suited her well. And those big beautiful (y/e/c) and a perfect smile to match. In just the few short days we were working this case, she has taken over every thought of mine so naturally, I didn’t like her. 

“Dean, are you ready to go?!” Sam yells to me from the other room.

“Yeah,” I called back and grabbed my gear before meeting up with Sam, Ketch and (y/n). “What is she doing here?” 

“She is here to help. Believe it or not gents, she does know about this life and has helped me out more than a time or two,” Ketch explained. 

“As long as she stays out of the way,” I say, throwing a duffle bag into the trunk before making my way to the front. I could hear her huff in annoyance but I could care less. 

We drove around town for a while, trying to find the supplies we were going to need for our “sacrifice” before we headed back to the motel where the last body was supposed to be. Gathering everything together, we followed Ketch’s instructions and then it was time for the dreaded part. 

“So what exactly do we need to sacrifice?” Sam asks. 

“Well, that’s where it can be rather difficult. We don’t need an entire person or thing to sacrifice, but we need the blood of the pure of heart,” Ketch explains.

“Who would that be?” I ask before following his eyes over to his daughter. Her face turned a bit pale, knowing her blood was going to be nearly drained from her body but she didn't hesitate. 

“Tell me what I have to do,” she says.

“I know this won't be easy for you darling, but I will be right here the entire time,” Ketch says, attempting to comfort his child. 

“Dad, I’m not a child, I can do this,” she says.

“I know but you are my child, my only child for that matter and I worry about you,” he says.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve put myself in a little bit of a difficult place for helping you out and I’m sure it won’t be the last,” (Y/N) says. 

As much as I hate to admit it, she’s incredible for doing this and doing it more than just one time. I’m not saying I care about (y/n) or anything but this is going to be a risky task. She’s going to need to give a generous amount of blood for this sacrifice and to see she’s okay with going in without a second thought; it's admirable. It was almost as if we were in a hospital; we had a needle hooked up into her arm and tube after tube of blood was being drawn from her. I could tell it was making Ketch uncomfortable because it was his child, whether biologically or not, so I escorted him out of the room. 

“Here, let’s go get a beer or something,” I say, clapping my hand on his shoulder and walking out. 

“I’m sorry Dean, I just couldn't stand to see that much blood coming from my daughter,” Ketch says, sighing in defeat as we sat across one another at the map table in the Bunker. 

“Hey, there’s no need to apologize. I’m worried about her, too,” I say. 

A moment of silence passed between us before Ketch spoke again. “You care for her don’t you?” 

“What? No, I don’t care for her!” I say, suddenly becoming defensive.  

“You do; I can see it on your face. I’ve had the same look before and it does not go away so easily,” he says, frowning and dropping his eyes to the floor. 

“Okay so what if I do? Is that so bad?” I ask. 

“No it's not, but since this is my daughter we’re talking about, it does make a bit of difference.”

“Look Ketch, I would never hurt her,” I say, trying to explain what I hope I can do for his child. 

“I know you wouldn’t, Dean. In fact, I’m not worried about her dating you, if that is what she wants. I am worried about this life; hunting. She has had some exposure to it but I try to shelter from it most of the time. If she’s around you, I’m afraid someone or something will get to her and there would be no point for my life to continue at that point.” Ketch was being really vulnerable and I was surprised to say the least, but I respected it. Sure, we had our issues trusting him in the past but this is his kid and right now, she is all that matters.

“Dad?” A groggy voice calls to the room. 

“Hey kiddo, your  Dad went to get you some supplies for when you woke up. We all became worried when you went whiter than a sheet but we managed to get you back. You’ve been sleeping for the last few hours cause you did lose a lot of blood but we’ve monitored you,” I saw, looking down at the young girl on the bed in front of me. 

“So did you get enough blood for the spell?” She asks. 

“That is nothing you need to worry about. We need you to get back on your feet,” I tell her. 

“But you don't need anymore blood?”  I chuckle at her, not being able to believe she’s been so concerned with this, but it makes sense. 

“No, we don’t need any more blood.” She takes a giant sigh of relief and slumps back into her bed. I smile as I watch her for a moment before I get called. 

“Hey Dean, we need your help out here,” Sam calls to me and just as I was about to tell (y/n) I notice she had fallen asleep. 

“Okay,” I call back and look down at the young Men of Letters’ daughter and lean down to press my lips on her forehead.

“What do we got?” I say, walking into the main room where the map table sat.

“We have the ingredients for the spell,” Sam says, adding everything together in what looked like a witches cauldron and an ominous purplish hue shown from it. We head out to the coroner's office and find one of the bodies that had their souls taken out and we tip the head back and pour the liquid down the throat. From the esophagus, we could see the hue shining from under the skin and soon, another blinding light encapsulated the room. 

“How do you know if it worked?” I say, looking down to the body that seemed no different than a few moments before.  

Cass places his hand on the body’s forehead and his eyes closed. He seemed a bit bothered by something but then his expression softened and he opened his eyes again. 

“The soul is in there; I’m positive.” He says. 

 For the rest of the bodies that turned up recently without a soul, we were able to restore each one and bring some closure to the families of the victims. We contacted the families and had them come and see the newness of the bodies of their loved ones. Most people would be against this but because these bodies had been violated, family members wanted to make sure they’re loved ones were being honored as best they could. 

“Thank you for restoring my Russell,” a lady said, leaning over to kiss her deceased husband. No one could say a word but a curt nod was all that could be mustered from any of us. This is part of cases we don't get to see. We meet family but we rarely get to see much happiness after the person is gone. Who knew a soul returning to a body could do such a thing?

Back at the Bunker, I go back to check in on Y/N. She was sleeping and I couldn’t help but watch the sore and almost voided women below me. She seemed less pale then when we first got her out of the process of taking her blood for the spell but she still seemed..hollowed in some places. Like her eyes, they were pushed back into her face and her arms and legs seemed as though they didn't have any muscle. How much of her blood did we take? 

“Hey you,” she whispers, her eyes slowly moving to look up at me. I couldn’t speak and wanted so badly to kiss her but the way her eyes suddenly changed, I knew something was off. 

“You get the hell away from her,” I say, leaning away from who I thought was (y/n) but I know better. 

“Aw Dean, why can't we be friends or more since you seem to be in love with (y/n)?” I knew the voice well and just as I thought, (y/n)’s face morphed into him.

“You’re a real bag of dicks, you know that?” I say.

“Yes Dean, I’m aware of how you feel about me and I can’t believe you let this kid distract you from dealing with Daddy dearest,” 

I hold back from killing The Trickster here and now and give him an opportunity to explain himself, against my better judgment. 

“Well good ol’ Dad decided to send me to try and get you back on track. To bring something close to you to just take it away again. 

“What the hell did you do to her?” I say, growing more and more irate. 

“Oh relax, she’s fine, she’s just…tied up at the moment.” he says. 

“I swear to God I will kill you if you hurt her,” 

“Really? I think I can rearrange that since he’s my Father and all,” he says and freezes when I beg for her life again. 

“Please, don’t hurt her. She’s all Ketch has anymore.”

“Yes but you don't like him either so why does it matter what happens to (y/n)?”

“Because we all need her on our team; she’s vital to helping solve cases.”

“Are you sure it isn't more than that?” A third voice says, coming into view. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

 “Dean?” A small voice rang out into the silence that had surrounded me in the room. I don’t know how I ended up here but I do know, it wasn’t easy. 

“Hey kiddo, you’re okay, it’s all over,” I say, looking over to her. She was much better now, away from the pain of blood being drained from her body, no longer in fear of who may be lurking around the corner. 

“What do you mean?” She asks. 

“Chuck, he's gone. Dead actually.” I say, still not fully believing it myself. 

“You killed God?” She asks, a look of disbelief playing across her delicate features

“Well, not exactly. We killed the vessel Chuck but God himself, he swore he would leave the Earth and not bother Sam or I or anyone we love ever again.

“Oh, so, he can still come back though?”

“No, he can’t. Because I….” My words fade from my vocal cords and I cannot process any thought rushing through my mind at a million miles a second. This was it, this was why I did what I did. Her. She is the reason why Chuck is dead and God is permanently leaving us alone. 

“I love you. I know it hasn’t been too long since you’ve been around us or me but I can’t help it. I love you and I want you to know that you are the reason God will leave us alone. If it wasn’t for you, we probably would still be fighting him and there wouldn’t be any peace….we’re free. Sam and I are free after all this time. We finally get to relax and be free to fight for people without having to look over our shoulders everywhere we go because I love you and he will leave us alone now because you are someone I love and….I’m free.” And for the first time in I don’t know how many years, I cried. Not just a small cry, a complete breakdown level of a cry. I guess I had years of pent up agony of having to fight and defend those whom I’ve loved finally come to a boiling point. (Y/N) did the one thing I needed in that moment, something I’ve lacked for many years; affection. She wrapped her arms around me, as tightly as she could, and held me close to her as sobs racked through my entire body. I began to shake violently and all she did was bring me in closer, run her fingers through my hair, and continuously try and shush me in that sweet, comforting way Mom’s do. I’m not sure how long we sat like that but we did until I was silent again. I slowly look up at her, through the tears still sitting in my eyes, and she runs her thumb right under my eye. 

“You okay?” She asks, looking at me in a concerning fashion. 

“I think so,” my voice was no higher than a whisper because I couldn’t trust myself. I surprised myself with the fact I cried as much as I did but I felt better. 

“I love you too,” she says suddenly. 

“You do?” I say, disbelief prominent on my face. 

“I know it isn't long either, but I do have some pull to you and I cannot deny it. You are the only reason I’m here. I love my Dad, I really do but you are the one who I get up for day and day again. You are the one who protects me like no other. You are the one I want to keep giving blood away for whatever spells or anything else you need. I love your smile, your eyes, your laugh, the way you grumble about anything and everything because you’re getting older but it just melts my heart and I’ve never felt this for anyone.”

It may have seemed like a rather chick flick movie thing for me to do, and believe me, I kicked myself for it, but I couldn’t help it; I had to kiss her. Because for once, someone loved me and there was no way I was going to lose her. Well, aside from the traditional ways of losing someone but there wouldn’t be a douche who tries to take her away, which is way better anyways. Her lips felt so soft and natural when she kissed me and all I wanted to do was kiss her from now on. Who am I turning into? Maybe I’m finally able to learn what its like to care about someone and have someone care for me when in the past, we would have never gotten together or even thought about it but things with Ketch have been different and he hasn’t been after us too much since Chuck started. Now, I somehow ended up falling for his daughter. 

“Oh, shit, damn it,” I say, pulling back from our kiss.

“What’s wrong?” She says. “I’m sure you’ve done this before,” she jokes. 

“No, I mean yes of course but, you.” I say. 

“Me?” 

“You’re Ketch’s daughter.”

“We’ll he’s my adopted Dad,” she comments. 

“Yeah but he still raised you. What is he going to think of this, of us?” I say, motioning between us. 

“He won’t care.”

“Are you sure? I mean we've been fighting with him for years and we just got him on our side.” 

“Dean, you’re overreacting. He just wants my happiness. He’s just going to have to deal with it being with you,” she says.

“Fine, then I say we need to tell him and everyone else about us before anything else happens between us.”

She suddenly gets up from where we were sitting in the common room and I jump up to follow her.  

“Where are we going?” I say when I catch up with her. 

“To tell my Dad.”

“Really?” I ask, not believing she wants to do this now but she stops and grabs my face and kisses me, for a long time. 

“Really,” She says after she lets me breathe again.

I follow her into the other room where we see Sam and Ketch at the map table, Sam with a book in his hands and Ketch scrolling through his phone.

“Dad?” (Y/N) says when we are in hearing distance.

“Yeah sweetheart?” Ketch responds, looking up from his phone.

“I’m in love with Dean,” she says with such ease, it brings a smile to my face.

“Oh I know,” he says and goes back to his phone.

“Wait, you know? How?” I ask.

“Because, I see the way you look at her, Dean. And (y/n), I heard you talking to Sam about it.”

“Wait, Sammy, you knew how she felt about me?”

“Yes,”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.

“She asked me not to,” he says.

“So you’re okay with this?” (Y/N) asks Ketch. 

“If he makes you happy, then I’m okay with it.” 

“But you hurt her Dean and I swear,” Ketch threatens me. 

“Don’t worry man, I couldn’t hurt her. She’s the best thing that ever came out of a perfect storm.” 

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hospital Flowers

Aurelia is an oc of mine that will be seen everywhere throughout different universes. Her last name will constantly change, but the character remains the same. Its easier for me to remember one character name than 20+.

TW: BLOOD, CAR ACCIDENT, ANGST (maybe???)

Nobody could've seen it coming. 

Aurelia was driving to the apartment she owned with Steve when it happened.

She had stopped by the tower to drop off a couple gifts for Natasha and Wanda, her chosen bridesmaids, on the way home from a meeting with the venue coordinator in Central Park.

The wedding wouldn't be for another year, but their venue needed to be secured several months in advance, just to ensure they'd have it for their set date. Though it was well known that an avengers wedding took precedence.

"I'll call you when I get home." She promised Nat, a playful grin on her face. It was the same one she always had when she was with her best friends. 

"We'll be making sure you get home." Wanda reminded Aurelia, hugging her tightly. 

Aurelia laughed. "I know. . . But I have to go now, Steve's cooking tonight and I promised I'd be home by seven."

"Fine, we'll talk to you later."

Natasha and Wanda finally let her walk out the door, watching as she got into her car. 

She pulled off into Park Avenue traffic and grabbed her phone from her passenger seat, dialing Steve's number. It rang three times before his voice filled the inside of her car. 

"Hey, Sweetheart." 

"Hey, you. How was your day?" Aurelia questioned.

"It was good, yeah, Buck and I went to the farmers market up the street and he spent most of his pocket money on homemade candles." The smile in his voice was evident as Aurelia laughed softly. 

"How many did he get?"

"Five, one of each scent they had available." 

"I don't blame him," Aurelia admitted. "Candles liven up the space, you know?"

"Yeah they do. So, how was your day?" Steve questioned. 

Aurelia heard shuffling on the other end and the familiar sound of their dogs leash being taken off of the hook. 

"It was good. I met with Danielle, our venue coordinator, and she ensured we would have the venue completely booked for ourselves, October 31st of next year. Once the meeting was over, I stopped by the tower to give something to my loyal bridesmaids and to say hi to everyone. . . I actually called to let you know I'd be home in just about an hour, maybe less."

"Alright, well I have to go make sure dinner doesn't burn. . . Be safe, Sweetheart. I love you."

"I will. I love you too, Captain. See you soon." The call ended and she was plunged into silence. 

She drove along in silence, taking her usual route to the Brooklyn Bridge. 

Aurelia was crossing the intersection at Bowery and East Houston Street when it happened. 

A van ran the red light and full on collided with the passenger side. She couldn't react fast enough. The force of the van flipped the car twice and pushed her into oncoming traffic where she was hit again.

Glass was surrounding her, blood oozing from cuts on her face, neck, chest, and arms where glass had scraped her or forcefully entered her body from impact. Her ears were ringing from her head hitting the window moments before it shattered.

She felt like she was under water and couldn't breathe. Everything was blurry. She couldn't move. Everything hurt. It was far beyond any pain she had experienced in her past six years as an avenger. 

Then the world went silent just as the sound of distant sirens met her ears and her blood ran cold. The lights seemed to turn off. Nobody was home. 

Natasha burst into the two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. The red rimmed eyes and the look on her face was enough to pause any potential lecture from Steve on the art of privacy. 

"Steve, you need to come with me right now." She said firmly. 

"We're waiting on Aurelia, I can't leave. She's supposed to be here any minute." 

"Steve. . . She's not coming. You need to come with me, and I'll tell you everything I know. . . You come too Barnes."

Both men looked at the cooling lasagna on the stove before grabbing their coats off the hook by the door. 

Natasha led them to the roof, where a quinjet was waiting for them. "Go, hurry." She told Clint the moment the ramp was closed behind them. 

"What happened?" Steve questioned, taking the empty seat beside Wanda. She had her head resting on Sam's shoulder, it was an unlikely sight. 

"There was an accident. . . Aurelia was in an accident. Friday alerted us at the tower as soon as she detected the first collision. . . Tony got down there just in time for the police and EMTs to arrive. He called and told us to get to you."

"Does May know?" Bucky questioned, sitting down in disbelief. 

"I don't know, maybe? If Tony hasn't called her yet, I bet he will." Natasha responded. 

"Is Aurelia going to be okay?" Steve asked, trying to hide his feelings behind the Captain. Unfortunately for him, Natasha could see right through him.

"I don't know. . ." She answered honestly. "She has to be okay, I mean, you're supposed to get married next year." 

"Yeah. . ." Steve trailed off, pacing at the back of the jet. 

When the jet landed in a park near the hospital, they saw two ambulances with flashing lights and sirens speeding to the hospital. 

The first one pulled in and before it could even come to a full stop, the doors were being swung open and a flurry of activity began. 

Tony jumped out behind the medics and wiped his face. 

The moment Steve saw him, he ran across the street ignoring Sam, Bucky, and Natasha calling out to him. 

"Where is she? Where are they taking her?" 

"Rogers, you need to listen to me."

"No, I need to see Aurelia. . . I need to know she's okay." Steve pushed past Tony but didn't get too far before his arm was grabbed. 

It was too late, though. He had already seen her and the several bandages littering her body. 

"They need to do some scans. . . Clearly something is wrong, her heart stopped beating twice on the way over here. . . They're taking her up for emergency surgery right now." 

"How are you so calm about this?"

"Steve—"

"No — Stark, how are you so calm about all of this? She almost died twice and you're acting like it's a normal day!"

"That's my daughter in there! My sweet baby girl is fighting for her life! Her life means more to me than my own, but forgive me for not wanting to cause a scene! You may be her fiancé, but I'm her dad. . . You could never love my daughter as much as I do, even if you fucking tried."

The two stared each other in the eyes, finally realizing how bad both of them looked. 

Steve was holding back tears, thinking he needed to be strong for everyone. 

Tony looked tired and worn out, but just like Natasha, his eyes were rimmed red and his face was puffy. 

Steve deflated, losing his defensive posture. He backed off and entered the hospital, soon followed by the few avengers that had time to be there for hours. 

Bruce called every hour, with no updates. He finally went to bed at midnight. 

Tony called May and she promised to come by in the morning with Peter. 

After eight hours, the only thing they knew was that Aurelia was out of surgery and should wake up soon.

Part 2

[chiliadicorum]

Glorfindel and the Balrog (Again)

Glorfindel was a badass and I need to talk about this AGAIN.

I thought I was done waxing poetic about Glorfindel's fight with the Balrog after the last post. I mean, what else was there to say? Joke's on me. Because I just had an epiphany recently concerning that duel that I realized is so grossly overlooked because, you know, epic battle and badass awesomeness that takes priority over anything mundane (I'm guilty of that. Refer to: said post).

I'm going to dredge up some popular fanon again and declare that it's canon. Let me ask y'all a question:

DO YOU KNOW HOW HOT FIRE IS?

Hear me out. Yes, simple question and yeah, everyone knows fire is frickin hot. As I said though, it's a mundane detail and as a result, tends to be overlooked. However, my attention was drawn to it when I recently took part in a brushfire.* Do not confuse this with a typical bonfire. This brushfire was to burn dead brush gathered over the course of several years and can only be burned in the middle of winter. It's way hotter, way bigger with way more fuel burning. I'd seen a brushfire before but I'd forgotten what it felt like.

We all had to stand, at minimum, 20ft away (30ft or more was better). The fire itself was impressive, but the intensity of that heat was insane. We maintained a safe distance, but our faces still turned pink from the heat. My actual eyeballs began to burn and I had to either back up further or turn away completely. The heat converted the 1°F air (-17°C) into something comfortable to breathe even that far away. But I have to emphasize that, no matter where you walked, you could not get safely within 20ft of this fire without proper apparatus. It was too hot for your face and eyes to tolerate.

Guys, that Balrog was a beast of living fire and Glorfindel grappled with it. I mean, he was already in proximity close enough to engage in that combat. Let's recap: struck the Balrog's head (impressive btw, considering Balrogs are twice an Elf's height), hewed off its whip-arm, and drove his sword through the Balrog's shoulder, not to mention all the other blows he landed in the combat:

"The ardour of Glorfindel drave that Balrog from point to point, and his mail fended him from its whip and claw.” 

But remember, when he struck the shoulder and the sword caught, the full-on brawling on the mountain pinnacle began:

“Then sprang the Balrog in the torment of his pain and fear full at Glorfindel, who stabbed like a dart of a snake; but he found only a shoulder, and was grappled, and they swayed to a fall upon the crag-top.”

....This is actually blowing my mind a bit. How has this not clicked before? Because this speaks volumes to Glorfindel's determination to see the demon killed, to save his people. Glorfindel wasn't a safe distance away shooting arrows or hurling spears. He wasn't 20ft away. He was fighting with a sword. And he was literally embracing that creature of living flame in a fight to the death. We don't know the literal degree of how hot the Balrogs burned, but by intuition alone, I think we can deduce that they were a lot bigger and hotter than some mere brushfire. Let's recall some details from the book in The Bridge of Khazad-dûm:

"The flame roared up to greet [the Balrog], and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. Its streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. [...] The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. [...] Fire came from its nostrils."

From The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, #144:

"The Balrogs, of whom the whips were the chief weapons, were primeval spirits of destroying fire [...]"

Balrogs were their own self-regulating and self-sustaining inferno, with "hearts of fire". Peter Jackson may have exaggerated the height of the Balrog in the movie, but he nailed the physiology, imo. Balrogs never laughed, never spoke, but they could control the amount of fire and darkness/shadow they emitted.

Getting back to that fanon I mentioned, it's a popular idea that Glorfindel sustained burns or caught fire in this fight, something like that. It's a notion regularly used in fanfic for years but always something relegated to the fanon category, an "unconfirmed" theory. I've enjoyed those fics, still do, but there's always been the back-and-forth about how accurate it is, if at all. I was on that fence too because Tolkien never explicitly stated it happened.

But guys, it's canon. Glorfindel got burned in that fight. Even if he never came in contact with its living flame (he did), even if he never brawled with the Balrog (he did), the heat alone would've burned him from the proximity of fighting with a sword. That's the whole point of this post.

This is the one time I'm not giddy about declaring a fanon is canon. It's so awful. Of course, it's left to the individual imagination as to the severity of his burns and where they occurred. Elves are not humans and I submit to the idea that there can be a difference in tolerance with such elements (such is the case with cold temperatures), but Tolkien still made it clear they're not immune to fire. I recall wondering if Glorfindel ever got burned, but it was such a passing thought I think because I put too much focus on this text:

"The ardour of Glorfindel drave that Balrog from point to point, and his mail fended him from its whip and claw.” 

Tolkien made it clear that Glorfindel obtained no fatal/serious injuries in that fight, which is significant and should be recognized precisely because it's a testament to Glorfindel's insane skill and speed. But Tolkien says it, or rather omits it, right there: "his mail fended him from its whip and claw". Tolkien doesn't mention the fire. He's talking about the attacks the Balrog is trying to strike Glorfindel with and failing abominably. It's so easy to ignore a mundane factor like temperature when there's so much epic action to fixate on.

Because before Glorfindel even began grappling with the Balrog and came in contact with its fire, he was getting burned.

And it never slowed him down.

Have you ever been even minorly burned by fire before, like a candle flame or heat from a stove? I have and it's the mildest as far as burns go but IT HURTS. It gets your attention like nothing else and makes you yank back on pure instinct. Yet Glorfindel never yanked back. He wasn't fighting any candle flame, yet he never faltered or stepped back at the searing touch of that heat. Let alone the actual fire later.

Glorfindel was plainly hell-bent on saving his people from this threat. No one can argue that, particularly when he was the one to pursue the Balrog. But this new aspect just further drives home that single-mindedness of that determination. That desperation. That's a better word. For as calm and in control of that fight as he was, despite being seared by that heat which would cause a normal person to falter, he never once retreated even for a moment to regain ground (he had room) or wait for aid (Elves were rushing to help him, Tolkien said) or reassess (he had time - that Balrog was terrified of him at that point and was actively trying to run away from him). My conclusion? Glorfindel was desperate to kill it. Frantic in that calm, disciplined way that's terrifying. Grief from Gondolin's destruction, grief from the massacre of his people, anger and uncertainty at their dire state, and now this demon was coming to finish off what remnant was left?

No. Soon as Glorfindel "leapt forward upon him" there was only one objective in his mind, one end: that Balrog was going to die now. And nothing would stop him or slow him down until it did.

*descriptions of the battle on Cristhorn from “The Fall of Gondolin” HoME II.194-5 *(disclaimer to ward off comments: this fire was in the middle of a field of snow, was law-abiding, was city-approved, etc. It was a controlled burn so no worries)

[masterwords]

Can you write Hotchgan in the beginning state of their relationship and Hotch has a meltdown, which catches Derek off guard because he didn't know about the autism? 👀

If you aren't comfortable with this its no problem, don't worry💗💗

Oh, hey YOU. Okay, I really hope I did this some justice...I scoured @eldrai's blog for inspiration and cues. It got long, way out of control, and it was partially inspired by a scene at the end of 10x05 - Boxed In on the jet and of course I took a lot of inspiration from Lo-Fi/Mayhem too. But this jet scene...

Something about everyone sleeping, and how close to home that case was for Hotch, and the way Morgan stands up there to look at him in the dark but gives him space...ANYWAY. I hope this is okay. <3

4.1k words | Hotch/Morgan | Derek figures out how to help when Hotch has a meltdown.

**

He pinched the bridge of his nose and stared hard at the file, willing the words back into focus. He could finish the whole thing before they landed, and with any luck, he could keep the noise at bay. Or keep them from noticing when it got too loud. The pressure built in his chest and his pen worked faster.

Sometimes it caught him off guard, things fell into place too quickly for him to perform his carefully curated damage control. And sometimes it was a slow burn, a gradual undoing of the threads that kept him in one piece. A pot of water coming to a low, rolling boil over dying embers. When he looked at Mary and told her she couldn't blame herself for what her son did, something had hitched in his chest. Some little warning bell, an alarm. He was seasoned enough to know his triggers, so he trained his eyes on his feet and walked one foot in front of the other toward the vehicle. His job here was done.

This was a slow burn, he recognized it, but he could put it out before it became a blazing fire.

Breathing got him through it. Closing his eyes, blocking out the crime scene, he managed to put it back where it belonged in order to drive he and Dave and JJ back to the precinct. He drove, because if he drove, then he could also decide to pull over. He was in control.

He took the banker box of information for the reports so he had something to keep his hands busy and his mind quiet on the jet. He was in control.

He poured a cup of coffee because if he slept he might slip into a nightmare. He was in control.

On the jet, everyone visited quietly about saving that boy. Finally a good outcome. A happy ending. Sure they'd all missed Halloween, but a little boy would go home with his parents and hopefully, after time, be okay. Derek kept looking back at Hotch who had seated himself completely on his own in the back with the remaining work. For Hotch, the case wasn't closed, it wasn't over, but he could make it go fast. Each time someone looked like they might talk to him, Derek drew their attention back to him, back to the conversation at hand. He could see the wild on-the-brink look in Hotch's eye and knew that he was one drop, one ripple away from losing it.

Right now, he was in control.

“Hey Hotch? What did you say to Mary back there?” JJ asked, craning her neck over the top of the seat. He glanced up at her and blinked slowly, his eyes faraway and coming sharply into focus. Derek watched the change happen. The shadow that fell over his features, and his lips formed a grim line.

“Later, Jayj,” Derek said, patting her on the leg. “He looks like he's in the zone there. Unless you wanna get stuck with that paperwork, we should let the man focus huh?” Draw it back to work. She shrugged and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, yawning.

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

Hotch looked back down at the report, but it had all gone fuzzy and he wasn't getting it back. He was no longer in control.

His glass pond was full of ripples, rings growing bigger and more violent by the second. His heart was thundering. There were no more words on the page, just splotches of bright white and kaleidoscope colors dancing in his vision. He clenched his fist against his thigh, dug his fingernails in until they cut crescents into his palm and couldn't seem to make himself stop. Instead, he pressed harder and harder, his shoulders shaking, muscles coiled tight all the way up into his jaw. His hand felt wet, blood pooled against his fingertips and he squeezed harder. Like a tea kettle with a steam release, he was waiting for it. The pressure was still building, though.

And the noise in his head was so loud.

The world around him was quiet, so many tiny people fluttering through their lives below him and though none of them were anywhere near him, he felt their electricity crackling over his skin. He became a lightning bolt. Everyone's goodness, their evil, the words, the expectations it all flowed through him like a current. He thought about how he'd yelled at the unsub, he heard the words he said and felt them thunder through his chest. Pulling the child out from underground, that family's generations of evil manifesting into a squall in his head. It hurt to hold it in, it hurt but it was in there so tight he couldn't let it out, it just raged inside of him beating against the walls of his being until he thought he might just come apart at the seams.

His face gave no real sign of any of this, but the muscle that twitched just beneath his ear was a dead giveaway to Derek.

Derek watched him cautiously. Everyone else was sleeping, or close to, and he was caught somewhere in time wondering what to do. How to help without drawing attention...attention would undoubtedly make it worse, but Hotch was no longer in control of much. He could see the quiet primal fury boiling there. He stood up, glanced at Hotch staring so intently he thought he might burn a hole into the page, and then turned to head toward the back of the plane. Hot water on tap gurgled and growled into a mug, Hotch's favorite mug, and then a bag of chamomile tea was plopped inside. He grabbed himself a cold water bottle and felt around for a moment beneath the seats for his headphones. He liked to keep them right there, easy to grab, easy to lose himself in.

Careful not to startle Hotch, he crouched in front of him and waited to feel those amber eyes on him. Desperate, a silent plea for understanding, and Derek nodded before holding the headphones up. Hotch didn't back away, didn't flinch or move. He just stared helplessly. Unable to speak.

This was always hard for Derek, knowing that someone who valued control so much could lose it so completely, so vastly and not even afford themselves the grace to let it happen. Ride the storm without the shame.

There was no shame, but Hotch simply had never given himself the freedom or the kindness to try and see it that way.

At first, Derek had tried to comfort him through it. He was never one to shy away from an emotional situation, and Hotch so seldom showed him anything like that...he really thought he was doing the right thing. He was doing what he would have wanted, were he to find himself in that situation.

But what he thought was going to be a simple thing turned out to be anything but. He didn't know what he was seeing. Hotch was so good at hiding himself away, so in tune with his triggers that he never showed that side of himself...until New York, until a car bomb ripped his feet from the ground and took his hearing and his relationship with gravity out in a ball of flame. He found Hotch in the hospital, tearing an IV from his arm, desperate and concussed and bleeding. His eyes were so wild with terror and he was shouting...he'd never heard Hotch shout at anyone like that before. Part of it was his hearing, the shouting because his world was unsettlingly quiet when he knew it should have been anything but...and yet the noise in his head, the ringing, was so loud. He shouted and Derek froze for a moment. This wasn't an unsub, it was a doctor and a nurse, people who wanted to help him, to care for him. Derek managed to get them out of there, pressed his hand to Hotch's chest first and felt the hammering of his heart against his sternum. “Hotch,” he said quietly, his hand moving to settle over the bleeding on Hotch's arm and he tried to pull him back in. He squeezed it, tried to stop the bleeding, and something about the pressure seemed to snap his focus onto Derek. It seemed to quiet him a little, but that despair, that fear and wildness was still there.

And Derek couldn't touch it.

“Hotch, your go bag is on it's way...” Relax, he meant to say, but he could see that feral spark in his eyes that told him that would be a step too far. That word was wrong. Hotch was barely holding something together, barely holding his tongue, his fists. He looked around the room desperately, saw the mangled sheets, the bed at an odd angle and tried to picture the rampage he'd only just missed.

As Hotch came down, a deep sadness and shame filled his eyes, but he forced himself to talk only about the case. It became his only focus as he regained some semblance of control, and Derek longed to ask him about what had just happened, but it felt dangerous, so he didn't, he followed Hotch's lead. They talked about the case, they waited for the team to arrive, things got worse instead of better, but he was in control again. At least for the time being. The pressure had built and released, and now it was building again.

He managed to find his way to a bed, to sleep, before he lost anything again.

That night, after the unsub slit himself ear to ear in front of Hotch, after the news of Kate, after Derek blew up the ambulance...he and Spencer met up in the hotel bar for a beer. Well, Spencer ate a plate of french fries and had a Coke, but Derek went for the beer he'd decided against the night before. Ice cold Stella Artois, he could drown himself in its amber depths. As quietly as he could, he spoke to Spencer about what he'd seen at the hospital while Hotch did his best to sleep off the day. “I've never seen him like that before,” Derek confessed, and Spencer nodded solemnly. He'd always had a feeling he knew Hotch better than any of them and he felt vindicated, but he wasn't about to overshare, not something so deeply personal. Instead, he offered what he could in a roundabout way. Things that might help.

“When I feel like everything is out of control,” he started cautiously, really focusing on his word choice and holding Derek's eye contact. That part was the hardest for him, he longed to look somewhere else, anywhere else, but Derek needed it. He knew that, in order to know this was a moment to take seriously. For the sake of his relationship. “When everything is building up, things are stacking up too fast...it's hard to hear people talking to me, even if they mean well. It just makes it worse. What I need is...a buffer, I guess. A way out. My voice, in here,” he indicated his head sadly. “It's too loud and anything added to it just increases the volume until I think I'm going to lose my mind.”

“Are you saying...” Derek stared and Spencer raised his hand briefly, begging him to stop. To just listen. Not to ask questions that Spencer had no business answering.

“I'm only saying maybe there was too much going on. He was in an explosion, Derek. We saw the footage. And everything else this week...then that...I'm just saying that what happened in the hospital was...” he paused, he could feel himself getting worked up, dangerously close to just blurting something out that he had no right saying. “Listen. It was probably just too many things that happened too fast. And even if that one last thing was a good thing...like a doctor trying to care for his injuries...it was still...” Too much, even for a person who wasn't autistic, that was what he wanted to say, but Derek interrupted him and stopped him just in time.

“Overwhelming.” Derek finished the sentence, and thought he caught more in what Spencer didn't say than in what he did. But now Spencer looked exasperated and a little wild, so Derek just shrugged and told him he had some thinking to do but he appreciated the help. They didn't speak about it the rest of the night.

It gave Derek a lot to consider, and a conversation was looming just out of reach. One he wasn't sure he knew how to navigate. It was just that he thought the one place Hotch should be able to be himself, and lose the mask, should be with him, right? He was so sure of that, but there was a little voice inside that said it wasn't inherently true. Unless he wanted to. It was Hotch's decision. Derek struggled with that.

“Aaron,” he'd started on the long ride home from New York, unable to sit in the silence any longer. He had to know. He was desperate for answers. But Hotch was distraught, in and out of some kind of fitful sleep, deeply uncomfortable now that his body had time to come down from the shock of the night before. The intensity of the pain kept him pinned in place while his mind spun out of control. He couldn't have talked about any of it if he tried. He'd already been on the precipice of another meltdown all morning, he'd snapped at Derek over trust when he hadn't ever meant any harm, and now he was barely holding it at bay. One more thing.

“Derek please,” he started, his voice nothing but a whisper. “Not now.”

“Okay,” was his reply, hearing Spencer's voice in his head. Adding one more thing...he didn't want to do that. That wasn't his goal, it wasn't ever his goal. “Soon?”

Hotch nodded, and let his hand cross that invisible barrier, over the console, to rest against Derek's thigh. He rubbed fingertips over and over in a quiet rhythm with the grain of the denim and closed his eyes against the throbbing in his head.

By the time the conversation actually happened, by the time Hotch actually used the word autistic, Derek had figured out everything he needed to know on his own. It was probably better that way, it didn't feel so much like a confession or Hotch being on center stage and more of a simple acknowledgment, a mutual understanding. Derek had already proven he could be trusted with such a deeply guarded part of him that Hotch didn't find it hard, one night in bed, to just lay it out. He no longer feared that the admission would come with an end to something good.

“Am I that obvious?” Hotch asked, seriously, once the rest of the conversation, the hard parts, were out of the way. Derek smiled and he could feel the warmth of in the dark. The sincerity was almost overwhelming.

“Something like that.”

He'd learned to read the signs, until he was no longer caught off guard. To anyone from the outside, the way he would press his fingertips to his forehead, or pinch the bridge of his nose a little harder than seemed necessary, it might look like he was nursing a wicked migraine. And sometimes he was. It was hard to tell the difference, the way he'd taught himself to react was jarringly similar. And that had always worked for him, no one could tell the difference and really he preferred it that way. No one could fix a migraine any better than they could this, that was his thought. This was like his body's alarm system screaming that he was at capacity, and he had to release it whether he was in the right place or not. His father had tried to beat the "fits" or "tantrums" out of him, that sure as hell didn't work, especially when he was big enough to lose control and fight back. Now everyone offered him a wide berth and a quiet room, it really was as good as he thought it was likely to get.

Dave and Gideon had figured out the difference and mercifully kept it to themselves. They would make sure he was given some space, and often Dave would make a sort of show of it. Bring Hotch a cold can of coke and an ice pack, a wet rag, some Tylenol...something that might scream migraine to anyone whose eyes were keeping a little too close a watch. And he would always come out looking tired with the Coke opened, the Tylenol stashed in his pocket, and a half-hearted exhausted smile on his face meant for a good friend. And with as long as the aftershocks lasted, it really played perfectly into the migraine mask.

Derek quickly discovered he couldn't do much. Hotch didn't want physical attention; he didn't want a hand in his air or on his shoulder. In fact, those things often made it worse, made him retreat further or react with more intensity than if they'd just left him alone. And while Dave had more than once confided in Derek that he had something that would help, Derek wanted to do more. The migraine thing worked in police stations, at Quantico, in the courtroom. But that was only helping him hide it, not through it. And Derek didn't want him to feel like he had to hide it. Especially not with him.

Dave was a friend, and he was a good friend. But Derek was more than a friend, so he should be able to do something more, right? It was hard knowing that the answer to that question was likely a resounding no. This was something Hotch had to weather on his own, ultimately. And what Hotch wanted was space, really, but he also needed something Derek figured out how to provide anyway.

He figured it out sort of by accident. He thought about Reid talking about how loud his inner voice got and it gave him an idea, something he tested out one day at home when it came out of nowhere and somehow...it worked. It didn't fix anything, but it helped and that was all he'd been hoping for. Hotch needed a buffer between himself and the rest of the world, and if there was one thing Derek understood, it was that. Throwing up walls, creating barriers. Cultivating quiet. He'd become skilled at that at a very young age, and while he didn't hold on to most of it as he'd aged, he retained what it could do for his own well-being.

After every case he pulled out his headphones and lost himself in music for the hours on the jet.

Music reminded him of good in the world.

Music reignited the parts of his soul that might wither and die after what he saw every day. A good drum beat could teach his heart how to do it's thing. A good guitar riff would make his blood rush. A thumpy sexy bass could cure everything else and by the time the jet landed he felt like himself again.

Hotch liked music differently, and Morgan spent hours and hours of his life trying to educate Hotch on proper music. Really, truly good music. Gospel, deep raspy blues, outlaw country, things you wouldn't find on the radio. Hotch was a Top 40 kind of guy, a classic rock guy at best, before Derek showed him the treasures. Things you had to dig properly for. Hotch, it turned out, loved Muddy Waters. Something in the harmonica, the rhythms, the sad wisdom in his voice.

So, he slid the headphones gently over Hotch's head, pressing them firm against his ears to make sure the seal was in place and placed the mug of tea down beside him. Satisfied with these little things, he walked away into the darkness. He'd created a barrier between Hotch and the world, and the hardest part for him to learn was that that barrier had to include him too.

Hotch closed his eyes and let the weight of the oversize headphones on his head distract him from the noise, let his fist slowly un-clench and pressed his bloody palm flat against his thigh. He'd dug deep this time, he could feel the crescent gashes throbbing, he'd need to cover them up with bandages and he knew Jessica would have a flurry of questions but...not now. The music started low, the volume so quiet, and in trickled the harmonica and the guitar. It painted his senses and he struggled against his body to pull in a breath, just one. The world's noise melted away from him as his focus was drawn to Muddy's voice. She moves me, man...

None of the songs were in order, except by order of what Derek knew Hotch's favorites were. He began with quiet, just a soothing voice and a simple melody. He selected each song while his eyes flicked up and read the situation from the other end of the plane. To anyone else, in the dark, it would look like he was just playing around on his phone, solitaire or a word game with Garcia (and he was doing that too) ...not playing personal DJ. Guiding Hotch through the winding path of his mind from afar. It was like holding his hand without ever touching him.

Hotch's hands, trembling, hugged the warm mug of tea and his features softened slowly over the course of the trip until he leaned back and let his eyes close. The muscle in his jaw throbbed when he released the tension there. He would pay for it with a headache later. But for now, the case file could wait and he could breathe. Derek kept it up for the duration of the flight, one song after another, lulling Hotch into a space of comfort, of eventual peace. It may have been fleeting, but it was undeniably good.

It didn't fix him. In the car, he was pensive, exhausted, painfully quiet. Derek knew better than to ask questions, he didn't need answers. The case was hard. Sometimes these things didn't have triggers that were obvious to him, but Derek knew this time. It was clear as day. JJ said some things to Hotch that she had already mentioned feeling bad for, foot in mouth statements she wished she could take back but knew had already done their damage. She told him what Hotch had said to the boy, how he'd been with the mother afterward even though she couldn't hear what they spoke about...it was a perfect storm. Past colliding with present.

He'd said things to that boy, channeled some long-buried words in a voice that didn't sound at all like his own. He jumped into that hole, pulled that little boy out, and that should have flooded him with joy. He knew that, but it didn't. Because as he watched that boy's parents rush toward him with all the love in the world, he knew that had never belonged to him. He wished, briefly, that his mother had loved him well enough to do what Mary had done and that made him feel worse. More of a monster. To wish harm because he was harmed. He had never been a believer in an eye for an eye, but that moment, he felt some little piece of him snap.

“You can't blame yourself,” he'd told her, but did he really mean that? He chewed on that for much of their drive home. Did he mean that at all? He blamed his mother, and shouldn't she too blame herself? Isn't that how blame works? It isn't subject to logic. It doesn't bow to facts. It swears fealty to despair and desire.

“Derek?” Hotch asked, sliding his sliced-up hand over until it rested against his thigh. He rubbed at the seam of Derek's pants, pressed the thick denim between thumb and forefinger to ground himself, and released a long and weary breath. The noise in his mind was fading and leaving something else in its wake. Some desperation for comfort. A way to release it all before walking through his front door, something to help him find his smile for Jack. “Would you mind stopping for a milkshake? My treat.”

Derek grinned and nodded. “I thought you'd never ask.”

[specialagentlokitty]

Martin Evershed x reader - my look alike

Part four for the Ackley Bridge crossover? Maybe Martin accidentally use his magic to save a student from being stabbed and Reader and Saul comes to rescue Martin from being arrested? - Anon💜

Part four:

You were talking with a few of the students when your phone began to ring and you excused yourself as you looked at it.

“Martin, hey.” You smiled.

“I think I messed up!” He rushed out.

You frowned a little and walked a little further away.

“What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“I.. I can’t explain please hurry they’re going to arrest me!”

“We’re on our way, get out of Ackley, meet me at our favourite spot!”

Hanging up, you quickly called your two friends for help as you ran to your car and he was already there.

You both jumped in and you quickly sped away, and Saul gripped the handle on the roof of the car as he looked at you.

“What the hell is going on?”

“No idea, but Martin’s in trouble. He said he was going to be arrested, get my the quickest directions to the barrier, Farah said she’d create a direct route there and back.”

Saul nodded his head and told you to pull over, saying it would be easier if he drove and you both swapped places while you texted with Martin.

He had no clue what happened one minute he was breaking a fight, the next he was standing in front of a student who’d been knock down by a plant that wasn’t there before.

He was terrified, and they were looking for him and he knew he couldn’t stay there anymore.

As he stuffed some clothes and other things into a few bags, Martin rushed to his car and jumped in, praying he could make it fast enough and you would be there waiting.

Saul broke every speed limit going, taking shortcuts and leaving you to blow up anything that would be blocking the path.

“Is he there?” Saul asked.

“I think so I don’t know he’s not replying.”

“Crap, okay, hold on.”

Saul sped through the barrier and into the first world and you swapped places again so you could drive to where you needed to bed.

It was just on the outside of Ackley and as you swung into the parking lot you saw another car swing in just behind you.

“Get him! I’ve got this!” Saul yelled.

You nodded, jumping out to help Martin with his bags and you tossed them into your car, and you looked at him.

“You’re not fond of that car are you?”

“No why?”

You lit your hand on fire and threw it at the car making it light up and you pushed him towards yours and into the back.

Saul quickly tore off and he took the same road back that you had just come from.

“Get down!” He snapped.

You covered Martin as Saul slowed his pace down, and you waited a moment before peaking your head up, watching the police car drive past and it swung around with its lights on.

“Oh fucking hell.” Saul groaned.

He stepped on the gas, speeding ahead and you held Martin’s hand tightly as you both looked behind you at the police car until it vanished and Saul slowed down.

“It’s fine. We’re in Solaria, what the fuck happened?” He asked.

“I… I don’t know.. there was a fight.. and I raised my hand to stop it and this plant came out of nowhere..” he mumbled.

You and Saul shared a look.

“Had this happened before Martin?” You asked softly.

“I.. Uhm.. maybe once or twice? Years ago…”

You nodded your head and Saul put his arm out the window to wave to a passing car and Martin looked around.

“I.. I don’t understand what’s going on..” he whispered.

“I’ll explain when we’re at the school. We’ll talk to Farah, I’ll take you to my room, and we’ll figure this out darling I promise.”

Martin looked at you and slowly nodded his head.

The rest of the trip was quiet until you pulled up to the school, and Saul took his stuff to take to your room and you got out the car.

Martin looked lost and you sighed, holding your hand out to him and you led him to the green house and let yourself in.

“Professor, can I help you with something?”

“Actually you can Terra. Is your dad here or is it just you?”

“Just me, is everything okay?”

She looked between you and Martin.

“Headmaster Silva?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, gesturing to the man who just came through the door with Farah in tow.

“No terra, this is my boyfriend, Martin Evershed. It’s uncanny though isn’t it?”

She nodded and you all sat down at a table, and you sighed, as you stood behind your boyfriend, arm around his shoulder.

“We have reason to believe you have magic Mr Evershed.” Farah said.

“Magic? That’s impossible. (Y/N) said their magic showed when they were a kid.”

Martin looked at you and you nodded.

“Yes, but you were in the first world, your magic would have no reason to show. We’re your parents good at anything especially. Gardening? Swimming?” Saul said.

Martin furrowed his brows in thought.

“My mum was good at gardening now you mention it, always won competitions and things like they.”

Farah pulled out a book and handed it over to him, opening one of the pages to show him a photo and he ran his fingers along it.

“That’s her. That’s my mum.”

“You’re mum was a student here. She was a nature fairy. We think you are too.”

Martin looked at you and you kissed the top of his head, and looked at Terra.

“Can you show him what you can do?”

“Of course, yeah!”

Terra grabbed a plant pot and brought it over, moving her hands, the plant went from a little seed to fully grown.

“In your rush to stop the fight, you actived your magic by accident.” You explained.

“So… I’m a fairy..?” He asked confused.

“And a specialist too apparently, you dad was actually one of the headmasters.” Saul said, pulling out another book.

Martin looked at them both in disbelief.

“Can you guys give us a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

They left and Martin turned in his chair to look at you.

“I.. I’m missing a whole section of my life…” he whispered.

You cradled his face between your hands, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks.

“It’s okay, we’ll help you.”

“Won’t I be too old? Won’t it be weird to be in a class with students? I’m a teacher!”

“Martin. Martin it’s okay. Look at me.”

He turned his attention back to you.

“It’s okay. You won’t be in classes, we’ll teach you on your own, get you a job here teaching English. It’s going to be okay.”

Martin slowly nodded his head and you smiled kissing his forehead as you walked away and came back with two empty stickers and you scribbled something on them both.

Taking one, you slapped it on to his blazer and you beamed happily.

“Perfect!”

You held you out hand and he took it, letting you lead him out of the greenhouse.

“Oi Silva, get here.”

“I’m not a dog.”

He walked over regardless and you slapped the other onto him.

Farah looked at them both.

“Not the real Saul Silva, if lost return to (Y/N). His name is Martin.”

Then she looked at Saul.

“Is the real Saul Silva, (Y/N) doesn’t want this one.”

Farah snickered a little as Saul huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“We’re the same person…” he mumbled.

You walked over to Martin, lacing your fingers with his.

“Like I said, I like Martin more. Now you have classes to teach and I have a boyfriend to show around.”

You started to walk away and Martin looked down at you.

“Do I have to wear it?”

“If you get lost I really don’t want someone bringing Saul back to me, or you being mistaken for him. It’s an insult really, I wouldn’t dare date him.”

Martin cracked a small smile and he started to look around, fully getting a chance to look around the school now.

Sure he pretended to be Saul, he he only saw a small part of the school.

He couldn’t go back to his old life, so here would be his life now, and that was hard, but at least he had you to help him