#i had four days in a row where i was awake for over 24 hours

[s0fter-sin]

i’ve tried so many energy drinks in the last week and i did not expect monster to be the one that tastes best

[nightwishesworld]

Life of Death

You’re gonna need tissues for this one folks! A huge thank you to @addictedtodinosaurs for allowing me to write this wonderful headcannon! Hope you guys enjoy!

Warning: Angst. Whole lot of angst 

It hasn’t even been a day since Alcina’s world collapsed. Ethan Winters managed to flee Castle Dimitrescu with his life and topple the hierarchy Mother Miranda worked so hard to achieve. Everyone is gone; Angie, Moreau's house, Mother Miranda, even her baby brother Karl. They never stood a chance after the fall of the great Mother Miranda. Without her protection, they were left helpless. Of course, Ethan only saw them all as monsters; filthy bloodthirsty creatures that needed to be slain. That’s all anyone ever saw them as. They’re different so that must mean they’re wrong. They’re abnormally different from anything I’d ever seen so that automatically means they’re evil.

But they’re still a family. Lucky for Alcina, she never let herself depend on anyone other than herself. Well, except for her daughters.

She was wandering around the ruins of the castle in search of them. They were nowhere to be found since Ethan escaped. It was a grueling task but obviously, one that needed to be done. They need their mother’s tender love and care to nurse them back to health.

Cassandra was the first to be found. Naturally, she was found within the comfort of her basement. Where else would that silly girl be hiding? Just like Daniela, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds. Alcina carried her upstairs to her bedroom slowly and carefully to not make her feel any sicker to her stomach. From there she bathed her and wrapped whatever wounds she had in delicate cloth before putting her to rest in her bed. Alcina tousled her wet hair before leaving in search of the rest of her brood.

Daniela was the easiest to find. She was left lying face down in the parlor soaked in a pool of her own blood. Her body was riddled with bullet holes to the point where her abdomen resembled Swiss Cheese. Alcina was quick to scoop her up and bring her upstairs to tend to her wounds. Until she got Daniela in the bath she used the ends of her dress to put pressure on her abdomen. Just like Cassandra, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds.

Picking each individual bullet out of her body was an uphill battle, but Alcina was the eventual victor. Even better, she managed to not disturb her youngest’s slumber as she patched her up. Daniela was now free to rest as much as she needed in the sanctuary of her mother’s bed.

“What a mess we’re left with, hm? Don’t you worry about a thing my little Tasmanian Devil, Mother’s here now. I’ll protect you.”

The girls remained motionless as Alcina tucked Daniela in next to her sister.

Alcina watched as her little bundles of joy rested comfortably under the warm blankets and plush pillows. They look so sweet and at peace. It was rare for the matriarch to see them like this, but it always brought a smile to her face.

“You just rest now, my lovelies. I’m going to go find your sister so she can rest easy as well.” Alcina bends down and kisses each daughter on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

It took a few hours of searching to find her eldest daughter. Doing countless laps around the castle finally brought Alcina to explore the labyrinth of hidden passageways. There were a few times when said passageways brought her right back up to her bedroom. She wasn’t complaining too much though. Every time it happened she simply checked on her girls and reminded them how much she loves them.

Bela was by far the hardest to find. The sounds of scurrying behind a row of bookcases alerted Alcina to her presence. Following a single passageway eventually led Alcina to find the blonde buried from the chest down in rubble. The tunnel had collapsed from then on.

Alcina made quick work of removing the rock and rubble from her daughter's body. Rats fled back into their holes as she did so. The eldest Dimitrescu never moved even an inch. It took a while, but Alcina did manage to get her out in one piece. She whispered promises of a warm bath and offered to deep clean the dirt and dust out of her hair.

Bela couldn’t respond but Alcina knew she heard her. She could still sense her. She could sense all of them. They’re just weak, that’s all. They need as much rest as they can get.

It’s late evening by the time all three girls are bathed and tucked into bed. They were dressed in clean clothes and had their bandages changed again before Alcina crawled carefully into bed with them. She made sure to be extra careful when nudging them out of the way so she was in the middle; Bela on one side and Cassandra and Daniela on the other. Her arms wrapped around them all snugly.

It reminds Alcina of all the times the girls would burst into her room when they were little during a thunderstorm. All four of them would cuddle up just like this under the covers and either sing to them or read them a story.

“Tomorrow is a new day, my loves. We will start anew and we’ll be stronger than ever. I hope you sleep peacefully.”

The next morning comes slowly for Alcina. It’s quiet for once as the girls aren’t awake to cause mischief. Aching in her back and arms keeps her from stretching out. She smiled when she feels the girls are still snuggled up close to her.

“Good morning my darlings,” she says with a yawn. “How are we feeling today?”

Alcina kisses each daughter on the cheek and chooses not to notice how much more pale they were this morning. And certainly doesn’t recognize how stiff they were. She simply chalks it up to sleeping uncomfortably. After all, even she woke up with an aching back. Her arms wrapped around them must have really bothered them.

“It’s alright, girls. Take all the time you need to recover. You’ve been through quite the ordeal and need as much rest as you can get. I understand that. Mommy will be waiting for you right here to wake up. I’ll be the first thing you see when you open your bleary little eyes.”

The family lounged for the better half of the morning. Alcina takes her time stroking the hair of each of her girls’ hair and whispers words of comfort to them. “You’re so brave, my loves. And so strong; stronger than Mommy could ever hope to be.”

She notices a rather putrid smell coming from Daniela. One not caused by uncleanliness or a rotten meal, but something else entirely. Her immediate response is to change her bandages again, but can’t help but notice how pale Daniela had become overnight. Her lips were turning a shade of blue and the rest of her skin looked sickly. So did Cassandra and Daniela. Perhaps this is worse than simply recovering from injuries? Maybe....maybe they really were-

Alcina shook her head. They’ll wake up. Of course, they’ll wake up! They just need to rest extra long before they can really start to recover. So what if they get worse before they get better? At the end of the day, all that matters is that they do wake up. Then it’s smooth sailing from there.

The silence is suffocating. She feels the chill in her blood, coldness bringing the synapses of her brain to a standstill. Part of it is a pain, but one Alcina can endure. One she has to endure; for the sake of her daughters.

While she waited, Alcina called for a maid, the only one left, to fetch some documents from her private study that needed her attention.

They didn’t actually need her attention, of course. With the demise of Mother Miranda, the document's importance was nullified. But Alcina Dimitrescu is not the type of person to just sit around and do nothing. Especially when there are so many important things to do.

As soon as the maid steps into the room she understands what’s happening. She went through something strikingly similar when she had her miscarriage some years ago. Reality is a cruel plane of existence. Especially when you lose someone you loved suffering it with. It’s plain to see that her mistress is grieving her losses and she doesn’t have the heart to break whatever fantasies Lady Dimitrescu has built-in her head.

Instead, she chooses to play along. Delusional or not this was still Lady Dimitrescu, the woman will kill her if she tells her anything other than what she wants to hear. She gives a kind smile and curtsy to her Mistress and simply dies as she’s asked.

“Shall I fetch you some wine, My Lady?”

Alcina thought about it for a moment. It has been over 24 hours since she last fed and she was certainly craving sustenance. But ultimately decides against it in favor of her daughters.

“No. Keep what we have left safe for when my daughters wake. They’ll need their strength more than I’ll need mine.”

The maid waits a minute before trying again. She looks over at the girls still laying in bed. It’s obvious they are no longer there. She could smell the evidence of that from across the room.

“Very well, Lady Dimitrescu. I could send up a platter of-“

“Enough,” Alcina shouts but quickly catches herself from continuing. The girls don’t need to be disturbed by such a trivial matter. “Go make yourself useful and clean my daughters’ rooms. They’ll want them spotless when they wake up.”

The maid simply bows her head. “Of course, my Lady. Please forgive me.”

The next two weeks went on like this before the maid had enough. She wanted to help her mistress, she truly did, but there was nothing left for her here anymore. The last scraps of human food were officially gone and there was no reason to trek down to the village and come all the way back when she could just as easily take up residence down there. It was a gut-wrenching decision but it had to be done. She tried her best for Lady Dimitrescu and that’s all that mattered.

She slipped away in the dead of night. Normally the Lady would have any escapees hunted down and dragged back up to the castle only to be thrown in the basement. But there was no one to do that anymore. Heisenberg and his pack of lycans had perished long ago, even before the Lady’s daughters, and the Lady was too drained of emotions to care. Too weak to chase after her.

Alcina’s daughters are her everything. Every day she lived for them. She lived because of them.

Alcina took great pride in her tall stature. She is the image of beauty and elegance. The only real flaw in her design is its role in hunting down prey. You’d have to be blind or stupid to not see her coming after you. Even with her much larger strides, she wouldn’t be able to keep up. And Alcina Dimitrescu does not run. Prey is not worth running for.

So she depends on her daughters to hunt for her. They’re much more suited for the job; so young, and clever, and agile. They are her cubs and her, their lioness, too old to keep up with the hunting party.

Alcina looks at her girls and sees them as they truly are; dead. Lifeless corpses. Their bodies are decaying and cold. She has been changing the bed sheets every morning to keep away the maggots but failed to stop all of them. The smell of death is noxious even with all the windows open because Bela said she wanted to feel the crisp winter breeze.

“My girls,” Alcina sobs. “What have I done to you?”

She collapses at their bedside and finally allows herself to break down.

But looking up at them she still feels them. She can still feel their arms wrap around her shoulders as she cries. The smell of paint is still on Cassandra’s cloak and Daniela was sitting on the floor right next to her. The short ends of red hair tickled Alcina’s cheek. If they were truly gone, how is it she can still feel Bela kiss the top of her head and wrap her arms around her neck in an embrace?

“I never should have done this. How can I be so selfish? I never should have turned you to suffer as I have.” A new wave of tears blurred her vision. “What kind of mother am I?”

She knows she doesn’t have long now. How can she bring herself to care? Everyone she ever cared about was already gone. What’s the point of trying to survive without her dearest family, especially when she’s so close to being reunited. Alcina wiggles her way back under the covers and pulls her daughters close once more. She’s crying in earnest now, happy that her pain is almost over. Even now she can see her daughters playing together, maybe even with Uncle Karl somewhere in the far off distance.

A smile spreads to Alcina’s lips as she closes her eyes and simply waits for her turn to join in on the fun.

[cali-holland]

The Best Gift- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: With quarantine still going on, you’re concerned you can’t give Tom a special birthday.

Word Count: 2800

Loosely Inspired By: House Party by Sam Hunt

A/N: This goes out to everyone who’s had a birthday during quarantine. I know places are opening back up now, but just remember to stay safe!

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

Quarantine sucked. It’d been going on for months, and while some things were opening up, a lot of things remained closed. It sucked because just before the whole shut down, you’d come up with a genius birthday plan for Tom’s 24th. The universe had a different idea though when it decided to sprinkle some virus in to ruin every single 2020 plan of yours. The large birthday bash (followed by an incredible getaway with just the two of you) was canceled- not even postponed because you can’t postpone a birthday.

“What are we doing for Tom’s birthday?” Harrison asked you and Harry as the three of you gathered in his room, the farthest place from Tom who was currently helping Tuwaine downstairs (he didn’t need help, it was a distraction).

“What if we bought a few decorations and hung that up? It could be a surprise house party. You guys can take him out golfing and I put up the decorations without him knowing.” You suggested.

“Would that work though?” Harry asked, turning to you.

“Oh, yeah, you know how Tom gets on his birthday.” Harrison teased, rolling his eyes at you. Last year, you had to lock yourself in the bedroom detach your clingy boyfriend from your side just to get him to go celebrate with his family for a few hours; Tom took his birthday as “Tom gets what Tom wants” and he always wanted you. June 1st was his clingiest day of the year by far.

“I’ll make him go. I’ll tell him I’m sick or something.” You reassured them.

“That won’t work either!” Harry laughed, all three of you knowing if you faked sick Tom would be even clingier to take care of you (before he would find out you’re definitely not sick). “Break up with him for a few hours?”

“I think that would ruin his birthday even more.” You shook your at him. You three heard the backdoor open and close, signaling Tom had come back inside (and was probably looking for you). 

“We’ll talk about this later.” Harrison said, ushering you and Harry out of his room.

“Y/N, where’d you go?” Tom shouted from the living room, immediately noticing your absence from where he left you sitting on the couch watching TV. He sounded like a lost puppy. Harry laughed, nudging your elbow playfully.

“You’ve got him so whipped.”

“Trust me, I know.” You smiled and he ducked into his room from the hallway. Making your way downstairs, you called out to your needy boyfriend, “Calm down! I’m coming!”

~~~

The days leading up to Tom’s birthday were tense as you, Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine all attempted to make plans for the big day while still keeping Tom from snooping through the exclusive group chat. Since Tom was basically by your side 24/7 and had gotten good at sneakily reading over your shoulder (hence how he discovered his Christmas gift a month earlier last year), the four of you used a chat via Instagram and you had your notifications turned off, only checking the app when he wasn’t nearby. By the time the day arrived, you four had created a magnificent plan for his birthday: the boys would take him out golfing while you decorated the house and baked a cake. The only issue with that plan was the inevitable rise in his clinginess.

The first thing you thought of when you woke up on his birthday was how incredibly lucky you were to be able to spend his big day with him, knowing that you had missed celebrating a few family members’s birthdays during quarantine. His birthday may not be going how you planned it to be months ago, but it was still happening, with or without quarantine. You smiled as you opened your eyes as you looked at your sleeping boyfriend beside you. His arm was draped over your waist to keep you close to him, as if your legs weren’t currently entangled with his. Though his hair had been tousled in the night, it still fell seemingly perfectly into curls around his face; he really needed a haircut, but it was “Sony’s hair” and he wouldn’t let you or anyone else near him with scissors. You ran your fingers lightly through his hair, admiring how the morning sun brought out the various hues in his curls.

You felt his hand stretch a little on the small of your back, a telltale sign that he was slowly waking up. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead then his nose and then to his cheek that wasn’t pressed to the pillow. His leg rubbed against yours for a moment; you could tell he was awake now.

“You missed a spot.” He mumbled, eyes still closed, half of his face still nuzzled into the comfy pillow.

“Did I?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his chin. He opened his eyes and frowned at you, “Good morning, birthday boy.”

“I’m still waiting on my kiss.” Tom insisted, puckering his lips out for you. You went to playfully peck his lips, but Tom knew your morning antics well enough, and his hand traveled from your lower back up to behind your head, keeping your lips in place against his. He moaned lightly into the morning kiss, happy to be waking up beside you for another day in a row. Hearing his stomach let out a ferociously hungry growl, you pulled back from the kiss.

“I have to-“ Tom cut you off with another wet kiss. With your lips barely off his, you mumbled, “I have to make breakfast.”

“No you don’t.” He replied, kissing you some more until his stomach went off again, breaking the moment. Knowing he wouldn’t make it very far in your morning cuddles and kisses without some food, he sighed in defeat, “We should probably get breakfast.”

“Come on, I’ll make you some pancakes.” You gave him one last kiss before untangling your legs from his and rolling out of bed. Tom smiled, propping himself up on his elbows as you watched you make your way across the bedroom and into the en suite bathroom in nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear.

“You’re staring again.” You laughed at your boyfriend while you brushed out your hair. You blew him a kiss and he pretended to catch it.

“Can’t help it.” He got out of the bed and shuffled his way over to you. “You’re the best birthday gift ever, you know.”

“If this is-“ You started, immediately jumping to the conclusion that his morning wood was talking and ruining the moment.

“No, no, I’m just so lucky to have you. And I love being able to spend my birthday with you. You’re really the best gift for me every day of the year.”

“Aren’t you just the sweetest right now?” You teased, before seriously adding, “You’re the best gift for me, too- every day of the year.”

Still dressed in your “pajamas”, you and Tom made your way downstairs for breakfast. To your surprise, Harrison was already downstairs making pancakes for the birthday boy. It had been discussed beforehand that you would make Tom breakfast- and make food for the others as well.

“Hey, that was my job.” You pouted at your friend.

“I got hungry.” Harrison shrugged, before turning to Tom, “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks. I just hope the pancakes are edible.” He joked.

“I made tea.” Harry said, coming into the room and pointing to the multiple steaming mugs on the counter.

“Damn, it should be my birthday every day if that means you two actually do stuff for me.” Tom laughed as he took on the mugs. Harry and Harrison just sent him pointed looks.

“They’ve both literally worked as your assistants.” You teased, rolling your eyes at him, and your two friends nodded in agreement.

“Yeah happy birthday, dickhead. You’re practically ancient now.” Harry stated. Ah, nothing like some sibling love in the morning.

“I’ll remember that when you turn 24.” Tom flipped him off.

“You’ll be 27-“ Before Harry could continue, Harrison cut them off.

“Pancakes are done!” Just like that, Tom and Harry’s focus went straight to food. It didn’t take Tuwaine long to wake up to the smell of fresh pancakes. Although you were hoping to make breakfast this morning, you were grateful Harrison did it because you got your pancakes faster.

By the time breakfast was over, you and Tom went back to your room and, as he got ready to go golfing, you were anxiously waiting for him to leave (so he couldn’t back out of it).

“What if I say I’m sick and stay here with you?” Tom asked you while putting on his shoes.

“They’re trying to do something nice for you, go with them.” You insisted from your spot laying on the bed. You couldn’t be bothered to get completely ready for the day yet.

“But I wanna spend the day with you.” He let out a whine as he flopped on the bed beside you and you turned on your side to face him.

“You’ve spent every day with me for the last three months.” You laughed.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” It was a playful question, but you couldn’t stop yourself from tensing a little. From his lack of reaction, he didn’t sense your slight slipup.

“Of course not. I just think you should go out. You love golfing.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked with a small pout.

“I’ll be here when you get back. I promise.” You reassured him even further by kissing him. His hand snuck its way to the small of your back, he smiled into the kiss as he tugged you closer to him.

“They’re waiting for you.” Your lips still basically on his as you spoke. 

“They can wait a few more minutes.” He replied, kissing you again.

“Tom! You ready?” Harry called from the other side of the door. Tom pulled away from you with a sigh.

“Guess I have to go.” Tom huffed, getting off the bed as you did too.

“Have fun. I love you, birthday boy.” You smiled.

“I love you, too.” He gave you a quick, but sweet goodbye kiss before opening the bedroom door. You two were met with the other three boys, standing in the hallway, ready to go golfing as a distraction.

Tom followed Harry and Harrison out and Tuwaine stayed behind for a moment.

“It’s all in my room.” He told you.

“Sweet. Have fun, I’ll let you all know when I’m done.”

“And one of us will tell you when we’re on our way back.” He reassured you.

“Thank you.” You smiled as he left with the rest of the boys.

Ducking into Tuwaine’s room, it was time to set up your surprise house party.

~~~

A few hours later, you had a cake made and decorated, lunch prepared and ready to go when the boys came home, and the house had balloons and streamers scattered throughout it. A large “happy birthday Tom” banner hung from the fireplace’s mantle, in perfect view of the front door. You had Harry’s speaker out, ready to play some music when your little party began. It wasn’t a large and spectacular birthday bash, but you hoped it was enough for Tom to feel loved and celebrated today.

‘Pulling up now.’ Harrison texted you and you eagerly hid in the hallway with one of those mini poppers, ready to fire it when Tom walked in. You heard them laughing and talking as they unlocked the front door. When the door opened, you jumped out from the hallway, pulling the popper’s string to unleash the little amount of confetti inside it (since none of you really wanted to deal with a ton of confetti inside the house).

“Happy birthday!” The four of you shouted as Tom stood there trying to process what was happening. You spotted Harry holding up his phone, filming the big surprise and you wondered how Tom didn’t notice that as a dead giveaway at all.

“We wanted to throw you a big party, but that’s kind of illegal right now.” You laughed and your boyfriend pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Thank you, I love it. I love you.” Tom smiled, giving you a kiss.

“Hey, we helped!” Harrison piped in.

“I’m not kissing you.” He joked, but let go of you to hug his friends and his brother anyway. Tom walked further into the house, admiring the birthday party decorations.

“This is amazing. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” He beamed, overwhelmed by the thought of the four of you trying to make his day special. He paused, sniffing a little, before turning to you, “Do I smell cake?”

“That’s for after lunch, but yes.” You smiled proudly and he cheered.

After eating lunch, Tom facetimed the rest of his family (and Tessa of course) for a bit, happy that he could at least see their faces on his big day. Once the midday dessert was served, he opened his gifts from the rest of the boys. All three gifts were open, and Tom realized you had been silent, a gift sporting your name on the ‘from’ label was missing.

“Where’s your gift?” Harry asked, noticing the odd amount of unwrapped gifts.

“I wanted to give it to you in private.” You said, quietly as you turned to Tom.

“Someone’s getting some tonight.” Harrison snickered.

“Birthday sex!” Tuwaine exclaimed with a laugh.

“That’s not what I meant.” You shook your head at your friends.

“But that’s still happening, right?” Tom asked with a cheeky smile, and you winked at him. He looked at you, hopefully, “Can I see my gift now?”

“Here, come on.” You took his hand in yours, pulling him out of the living room, ignoring the hoots and hollers from the rest of the boys as they made comments about leaving the house for a while. Tom sat down on the edge of your shared bed and waited patiently as you got out a wrapped box from your side of the closet.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. I already told you, you’re the best gift ever.” Tom said as you sat beside him on the bed, handing him the box.

“Yeah, and I remember telling you specifically not to buy me a car for my birthday and look where we are now.” You stated and he smiled innocently at you.

“Technically, everyone in the house pitched in on the car.” He paused when he saw your raised eyebrows, “Okay, but I did pay for most of it.”

“Just open your gift, rich boy.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“Love you.” He smiled, giving you a quick kiss before turning his attention back to his present. He slowly unwrapped the box and you anxiously watched his face, hoping he’d like it. You weren’t a famous movie star with millions of dollars to spend freely, so him buying you (or the “house” buying you) expensive gifts just made it harder for you to buy him something just as nice. Birthday gifts weren’t always about the price tag, but it still made you nervous. Really though, what could you buy him that he couldn’t buy for himself already?

“It’s a- a memory box,” He said softly, taking off the wrapping and looking at the intricate woodwork. You bit your lip, feeling your heart sink a little; this was one of the few moments in your relationship that you couldn’t read the emotion on his face at all. He opened the box and saw that you had already put a few things in there- a picture of him and his brothers that you had taken a couple years ago on his birthday, the movie theater tickets from your first date together, a polaroid of the two of you with Harrison at the Civil War premiere way back before you started dating. He delicately picked up the small, beautiful seashell that rested in the box; he’d picked it up on a beach in California and brought it back to you in England because something about it reminded him of you, he cherished the little thing. “I thought I lost this.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve let you-” Your worries were cut short by Tom resting his hand on your leg and looking over at you. He had tears in his eyes as he smiled.

“This is by far the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He reassured you, putting the small shell back in the box.

“So you like it?” You asked nervously.

“I love it. I can’t wait to fill it with more memories.” He set it on the bed beside him so he could maneuver you into his lap. “Thank you for making my birthday incredible. I love you so much.” “I love you, too, birthday boy.”

[purpleandgreen13]

Stardew Valley Inktober 2021

Inspired by @buttonso 's SDV Inktober list, I'm writing a one shot every day for October. I have done 4 already (the fifth will be later today) but thought I would post them here too.

October 1st Junimo

Inspired by the Star Trek original series 'The Trouble with Tribbles'

Dammit Lewis, I’m a doctor not a vet.” Grumbled Doctor Harvey at his clinic where he, Marnie and Mayor Lewis are stood looking the five tiny figures laying in a large cardboard box on the examination table. They are covered in scratches and making distressed cooing noises.

“Please Dr Harvey?” Pleads Marnie, her eyes filling with tears, “I found them in the barn, the cows didn’t mean to rough them up, they were just curious.”

“What are you doing with these creatures anyway Marnie? Junimo’s import to Ferngill is strictly controlled.” Doctor Harvey peers over his glasses.

Marnie looks shifty all of a sudden and Mayor Lewis shuffles uncomfortably, “Lewis got me a special license!” Marnie protests a little too loudly, “We’re breeding them as pets. Look how cute they are! People are going to love them!”

“You are aware of their other reputation?” Harvey asks, “They’re prodigious breeders. They can have up to seven litters a week and they’re banned in some places. In the wild they have plenty of predators but in domestic situations you can easily get overrun."

“Please Doc. We can make it worth your while.” Lewis wheedles.

“Lewis. I don’t want your money, except for the medical bills. I don’t like seeing any creature in pain. Leave them with me, I’ll make sure they’re well looked after and I’ll patch up their wounds, give them a course of antibiotics and they should be right as rain in about four days.”

“Thank you so very, very much, Doctor Harvey.” Marnie gushes with relief as she clutches Harvey’s hand. Harvey frowns. This is very much against his better judgement, but the animals need care and he WAS the closest thing this town had to a vet, he supposed.

Once Marnie and Lewis left, Harvey lifted the blanket covering the box.

“Oh Yoba.” He muttered quickly lowering the blanket again. Already the junimos, which he had to grudgingly admit were cute, were In flagrante delicto, busy at work in the cardboard box creating the next generation of apple-like creatures.

Harvey mused that the small animals were getting more action than most people in the valley, including him.

He fetched his medical equipment and carefully lifted each Junimo out of the box, whenever one was free from its activities. Each one squeaked in protest as Harvey checked it over, applied antiseptics to cuts and grazes, then administered antibiotic in a small pipette to each of the five Junimos. They’d need a few days care, but they were mostly badly shaken up. They would all be fine, he was confident.

He supposed he should separate them into males and females, but honestly, Harvey had absolutely no way of telling them apart, so he left the blanket on the box after giving them some guinea pig food provided by Abigail and a bowl of water, and retired for the night.

Maru was first in the clinic the next morning and when Harvey entered the reception area, still a little bleary-eyed from sleep, she looked furious.

“What- what’s up Maru?” Harvey asked nervously.

“Why are you keeping so many animals in such a tiny space Doc? It’s downright cruel!”

“What are you talking about?”

There are almost 50 Junimos squished into a cardboard box in the hospital section! I can’t believe you left them like that? You do know it’s illegal to keep them without a license?” “Fif-FIFTY? Harvey suddenly felt a bit faint. “There were only 5 yesterday!”

Well, there’s about 50 of them now. We’ll need to find them better housing.”

After searching through the clinic for boxes big enough to house 50 Junimos, Maru makes a decision, that Harvey mutely agrees with.

They let the Junimos loose in the hospital wing of the clinic, leaving them food and water. At the end of the day locking the door behind him, Harvey couldn’t help but feel he’d made a terrible mistake.

‘Junimos reach sexual maturity within 24 hours of birth’, he read in one of his encyclopaedias, ‘as beings who derive their bright coat colouring from magic in the air around them, they live relatively short lives and breed as much as they can to ensure survival of the species. The magic that sustains them, makes them attractive to female junimos also kills them. Their twin purposes in life are to procreate and eat.’

In the morning there were more than 500 Junimos on the hospital wing. Maru could barely open the door and then could not close it. There were junimos everywhere, in the pharmacy cupboards, under every chair in the waiting room. Maru found two in the drawer of the till.

Harvey was going spare. His beautiful clean, sterile clinic had turned into a zoo. He coped as well as he could, but that evening, he called Lewis in a panic. His first attempt to pick up his phone he picked up a Junimo instead, he swept 7 of them off his chair in his office. Several of them piled on his warm lap once he sat down. There were several of them sleeping on the examination table. The noise of Junimo mating was cacophonous.

“Hello!” He bellowed into the phone when Mayor Lewis picked up. “LEWIS! It’s Harvey here! You’re going to have to do something about these Junimos! There’s hundreds of them!” “Sorry Doc! I can’t hear you! Are you having a party? I will come and pick up those Junimos from you on Friday! You said 4 days for the antibiotics to work didn’t you? I’ll see you then!” and with that the line goes dead.

Harvey has had enough. He wades through the Junimos lining the stairs to his apartment, grabs his jacket from the hook behind the door, empties the pockets of Junimos that have settled there, and makes his way gingerly out of the clinic and to the saloon. He stays far later than he should and he dreams in junimos the entire night.

Wednesday is hell. Exponential Junimo growth means that every surface is covered with squeaking, breeding and pooping animals with no regard for Harvey’s cleaning routines. He opens his kitchen cupboard for his coffee mug and is rewarded by e seemingly never-ending shower of small apple like creatures bouncing off his head and scurrying away. He tries to count them but here are far too many. That night he goes hungry because there is not a crumb of food in the house. When he climbs into his bed, he is surrounded by the creatures, cocooned in a kind of living Junimo blanket. The sleeping creatures start snoring. By itself a junimo snoring is a sweet sound, like sighing, but by the thousand, the noise is deafening.

When Maru arrives on Thursday morning, Doctor Harvey is a broken man. She pushes the door of the clinic open with some difficulty, the sheer weight of the creatures holding back the door.

Harvey is seated behind the counter, asleep, head in arms, dishevelled and unshaven. Junimos on his lap, his shoulders, in every one of his pockets. The squeaking and chirruping is so loud that Maru has to cover her ears as she approaches the sleeping man covered in the apple creatures.

“Doc!” She shouts above the row. “Doc!”

Harvey jolts awake. The junimos on his lap fall off, but are replaced with many more, jostling for a place on the doctor’s warm knees.

“I’ve brought someone who might help!”

Through the mounds of apple shaped bodies Harvey can just about make out a large cowboy hat and a purple beard. He scoffed to himself, the crazy guy from the tower? What was he going do here? Set traps? Give them all contraceptives. (Harvey had already considered it, but he calculated that the cost would be more than he made in a year).

With some difficulty the self-proclaimed wizard moved to the wall of the waiting room and in chalk drew a large circle with undecipherable symbols within its parameters. He yelled one word “Quiet!” Which made Harvey and Maru both jump. Surprisingly, the Junimos still and there is peace in the clinic for the first time in days.

He grinned at the medical staff, “Couldn’t hear myself think in here.”

Harvey has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when the wizard gets out a wand. Seriously? He’s muttering something that Harvey can’t quite catch and is sure is gibberish. He almost wants to laugh when the man turns around and makes an extravagant gesture with his arm. Harvey takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, feeling overwhelmingly tired. When he opens his eyes again, the Junimos are gone.

He blinks. Not a single Junimo remains.

The place is a mess however. Chairs are overturned, the plants have all been eaten. Magazines shredded. Harvey dared not look at the damage in his neat pharmacy and sterile hospital room.

“Where did they go?” He stammers, his entire belief system shaken.

The Wizard smiles enigmatically, “Somewhere I think they should be.” With a dramatic swirl of his cape, he exits, leaving Harvey and Maru to clean up the mess. Harvey thinks he can smell sulphur, but blames his overtired fevered brain.

**~~**~~**

In the Mayoral Manor, Lewis is doing his weekly book work for the town finances. A little bit off the top here and a little added to his own bank account. No-one ever asks to check the books. The amounts would not be missed.

There is a flash and suddenly Lewis is surrounded by small apple shaped creatures. They’re everywhere. A heaving mass of Junimos covers the floor and already some of the creatures are getting into his food cupboards, locust-like they start to methodically eat everything they come across.

Over in the clinic, broom in hand, Harvey swears he can hear screaming coming from Lewis’s house.

[backtobackbakubabe]

I’m Gonna Make This Place Your Home

Bakugo X Reader 

Runaway reader finds a home with Bakugo. But will trouble follow?

Warnings * This one is a little heavier than stuff I have written in the past. Kidnapping and mentions of abuse. 

Words: 3676

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This was the third night in a row he had woken up in a cold sweat. This had been happening periodically for months but it had been happening more frequently lately. It was the same dream over and over again. It would always start as a normal dream but before he knew it, there was a girl maybe a year or two younger than he was. She was always dressed in the same shitty dress. Her hair wild and tangled. But  nothing was more haunting than her eyes. They were so sad and scared. She was always reaching out to him, her lips moving but no noise coming out. He desperately wanted to know what she was saying, but he never got the chance. He’d always wake up panting and angry. 

It didn't matter what time it was he always got up after that and went for a run. There was no going back to sleep after that. Those eyes were burned into his brain. Every time he closed his eyes he could see that scared look, and it crushed him. 

He didn't even know this girl. At least he didn’t think he did. He read somewhere that your brain can’t invent new people so all the people in your dreams where people you had seen before. 

Was she someone he had saved in the past. No he would have remembered her, he could tell she was pretty even if she was underfed and covered in dirt. Was she someone he saw in a movie or on TV? That had to be it. The only problem was he had been so busy with hero work he hadn't had the time to relax and watch anything in months. He was in his first year as a Pro Hero and he was working relentlessly to make sure everyone knew his name. 

He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a look at the clock. 4 am. Fuck he had only been asleep for a little over two hours. He rubbed his temples. He had to report to work in six hours. Maybe he should just go in early. If he’s going to be awake he might as well get paid for it. 

He sluggishly got dressed and drained the rest of his coffee. Thank god today was supposed to be a short day anyways. He didn't know if he could make it through another 24 hour shift. 

The ding of the elevator sounded louder than usual, and in his exhausted grumpy state he took it very personally. As if the elevator knew he was tired and wanted to taunt him. 

He walked over to his desk and threw his bag that held his costume onto it before slumping into his chair. 

“Wow. dont take this wrong way. But you kind of look like shit.” He looked over to the cheery as hell red head that he usually would consider his best friend, “How the hell am I not supposed to take that the wrong way?”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, “I mean you just look tired is all. Speaking of which shouldn't you be asleep right now? Your shift doesn't start until 10. I know you’re punctual and all but four hours early seems a bit extreme.” 

He leaned back in his chair attempting to rub the exhaustion from his eyes, “I’m fine. I have paperwork to catch up on before my shift starts anyways.” 

Kirishima gave him a concerned look, “You hate paperwork man. What’s really going on?”

He debated for a few seconds if he should say anything, but then decided it might help to actually to talk about it with someone. “I’ve been having these weird dreams... Theres always this girl-”

“A girl! ooooh is she pretty?” 

He gave the red head an annoyed look. 

“Oh right not important. Continue. Sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes she is pretty. Anyways. She keeps popping into my dreams. It looks like she needs help but I can never hear her. She’s dirty and way too skinny and I dont know.. Its just messing with my head.” 

Kirishima seemed to ponder on that for a bit, “Do you recognize the girl? Like is she someone you know?” 

Bakugo sighed, “No, at least I dont think I do.” 

Kirishima nodded, “What is she doing in these dreams?” 

“I dont know. I guess she’s reaching out to me. At least that’s what it looks like.” 

Kirishima brought his hand up tp his chin as if he was Sherlock Holmes solving a case, “Why dont you take her hand then? If she’s reaching out to you, it must mean she wants you to right?” 

Bakugo threw his hands up in defeat, “I dont fucking know! Even if I wanted to it’s not like I have complete control over my dreams. I’m asleep for fucks sake.” 

Kirishima rolled his eyes, “Alright grumpy gills. I think you need a nap. And this time if any girls happen to stroll through your dreams at least try to hold their hand and see where that gets you. Alright? I’ll handle your paperwork and come wake you up when it’s time for your shift.” 

He wanted to argue but even after 3 cups of coffee he was utterly exhausted. He couldn't work like this. Kirishima was right. He needed a nap. 

He curled up on one of the couches in the break room and fell asleep almost instantly. His dreams started out normal enough. Nothing odd in any way and then out of no where. There she was. Reaching out to him. Her eyes terrified, a silent scream on her lips. 

He was supposed to do something. What was it? Oh yeah. He slowly reached his hand out to hers. It seemed to go so slowly as if he was moving through molasses. His muscles hurt from the effort of forcing his arm up to meet hers. 

Finally his fingers brushed against hers... and he heard it. 

Her voice rang out loud and clear. “Help me Ground Zero! Please!” 

He gripped her hand tighter, “Who are you? What do you want?” 

The girl started to cry, “No time for that now. They’re onto me! Where are you?”

Bakugo flinched, “I’m at work at All Mights new agency.” 

She nodded her head in understanding and for the first time ever she left before he woke up.

Next thing he knew he was being shook awake, “Come on man time to get up! Tell your dream girl you’ll call her back later.” 

He shot straight up, “I did it...”

“That’s great..... what did you do?” 

Bakugo stood up his body coursing with adrenaline, “I touched her hand... and I heard her! She asked me for help and asked me where I was.” 

Kirishima looked at him like he had lost it, “Alright crazy pants enough of that. You know its a dream right? As in it’s not real. This is real, we are real, and you’re really about to be late if you dont hurry up and get changed.” 

Bakugo spent the rest of his shift on high alert. He looked around every corner to see if you were there. You were real. He doesn't now how, but he knows that to be true. He knew he couldn't say that out loud without sounding like a escaped mental patient but his heart kept telling him you needed him. 

Your voice played on an endless loop through his head. It drowned out everything else including Kirishima's annoying consistent ramble. 

The day flew by faster than usual which Bakugo was extremely grateful for. He was practically running out the door with Kirishima yelling after him about meeting up for drinks later. Yeah that wasn’t happening. 

He had taken all of three steps out of the building when he was being tackled. Well tackled wasnt exactly the right word, because that would imply that he fell, which he did not. Instead he lost his balance for a second before turning to see the source. 

It was her. It was you. 

“Shit shit shit. You’re real. I knew it! What are you doing here? Who are you?” 

You looked up at him with desperate eyes, “Get me out of here. They’re after me! I promise I’ll tell you everything just please get me somewhere safe.” 

He looked around to see if anyone was watching, but no one was around. He grabbed your hand and started walking towards his apartment, “I only live a few bocks from here. Think you can make it that far?” 

You nodded. If only he knew how far you had already come to find him. 

Soon enough you were being dragged through the door to his apartment. He lead you to the kitchen table and immediately began to pace back and forth in front of you. He suddenly stopped and looked at you, his eyes boring into yours. “Alright are you going to tell me who the fuck you are and what the fuck is going on?” 

You flinched a bit at his angry voice but quickly reminded yourself that he was good, he wouldnt hurt you. You composed yourself the best you could under the circumstances, “My name is Y/n. I was kidnapped as a child by a group of villains. They have been using my quirk to their advantage for years. I finally managed to get out and come find you.” 

He pulled a chair up so he could sit and face you, “Okay but why me? Out of all the people in the world why me? How were you in my head?” 

You looked down into your lap where your fingers were gripping the hem of your dirty dress, “My quirk allows me to enter people dreams. I'm a dream walker. But it cant be just anyone. I have to have seen their face and I have to know their name. I was a child when they took me. I didn't know any better. I thought they were my family. It wasnt until I got older that I realized how wrong what they were doing was. They would have me enter peoples dreams to get them to confess things, gain information, plant ideas... One day I fought back and tried to reach out for help. The only problem was I didn't know anyone... everyone I knew was a villain. All the people that I had visited in dreams before wouldn't listen to me. And why should they. I betrayed them. I entered their dreams, and stole their private information. Even if they wanted to help, I had no idea where I was... there was no way for them to find me.” 

He reached out and took your hand in his, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.... but you still haven't answered my question... why me?” 

He may be a bit insensitive but he still had no idea who you were and he didn't want to run the risk of this being some weird twisted trap. 

You wiped a tear from your dirt stained cheeks. “One night I snuck out of my room t- to try and get something to eat.... and the news was on, on the tv in the kitchen. It was an interview with you. I saw your face and I heard the name Ground Zero.  That’s all I got before I was being dragged back to my room and was pumped full of so many drugs so I couldnt use my quirk.” 

You were shaking now, “I dont know why and I cant explain it. But I felt a weird connection with you. Every day I repeated your name over and over again through my drugged state so I wouldn't forget it. I kept telling myself you were going to save me. Finally I was able to push through the drugged haze to reach out to you. To walk into your dream.”

Bakugo’s head was spinning, “Is that why I couldnt hear you? Because you were drugged?” 

You shook your head, “No, I have to have permission to truly be in someones head, you had to touch me, to acknowledge me before I can talk to you.” 

He took a deep breath, “Well I’m sorry I didn't do it sooner.... So how did you get here.” 

You started messing with the hem or your dress again, “They decided to move me to a different location. Said I was being too difficult and needed to be taught a lesson. I jumped out of the back of a moving van. I didn't know where I was going but I found my way to the city and asked the first person I saw for directions.” 

Bakugo was leaning towards you now, completely invested in the story, “Why didn't you go to the police?”

You sighed, “I dont know who to trust. They have moles everywhere. I cant risk showing up on a police report. They’d find me.” 

He nodded for a few moments thinking it over. “Ok.... well... I have a spare bedroom you are more than welcome to use. It looks like you need some food and it smells like you need a shower. The bathroom is down the hall, do you like spicy food?”

Your eyes widened, “Does that mean you’ll let me stay?”

He huffed, “Well I’m not going to fucking kick you out to rough it on the streets! Now do you like spicy food or not?” 

You shrugged as you tried to hold back the relieved tears that threatened to spill out, “I dont know. I’ve never had spicy food. I was only ever fed white rice. Sometimes if I did a good job they would add chicken.” 

He gave you a sad look, “Alright so I’ll go easy with the seasoning. Take your time, relax and I’ll get you some clean clothes.” 

You nodded as you walked carefully over to the bathroom he had pointed out earlier. You were almost too scared to touch anything. You didn't want to do anything that would make him change his mind. 

The shower felt so good. You couldnt remember the last time you had, had a shower. It had to have been during what you called your cooperative phase. They were so nice to you then. Before you realized they were all monsters. You had a nice soft bed, your own bathroom, and so many books to read. When you fought back everything had changed. 

You could see all the mud and dried blood swirling around before it went down the drain. You decided then and there that this was goodbye to your old life. If you could even call it a life. It was all going down the drain as well and you were never going back.

When you finally stepped out of the shower there was a warm looking hoodie as well a a pair of shorts and boxers sitting on the bathroom counter. The hoodie hung down to your knees and you had never felt so warm and fuzzy. You didn't know it was possible for an article of clothing to feel... safe. 

You walked out into the hallway and could hear hushed voices, you panicked. Had they already found you? 

“Dude I heard the shower running and you’re cooking... you definitely have a girl over! Who is it?”

“Will you shut up! She’ll hear you!”

“You DO have a girl over!” 

“Will you just fucking leave already? I promise I’ll tell you about it later. Tell the director I won't be able to make it work for the next few days. I’m uh.. sick.” 

“Sick huh?”

“Yeah I’m sick... sick of your shit, now leave!” 

You couldnt help it you giggled. It sounded so weird but it was undeniably a giggle. You felt a weight start to slowly lift from your shoulders. 

You waited until you heard the door shut before leaving the safety of the hallway and joining Ground Zero at the diner table. Your mouth started to water and you stomach rumbled, it all looked so good. You looked over to him, unsure if it would be rude to just dig in. 

He froze with a spoon midway to his mouth, “What? Are you waiting for permission or something? Fuck that just eat.” 

Your eyes lit up as you started to drain your bowl or soup first, immediately followed by mountain of noodles. It all tasted so good, “Thank you so much Ground Zero. This is delicious. You are an amazing cook.” 

You could see him blush a bit before shoving another bite into his mouth numbing a quick, “It’s Bakugo.”

You both sat in an awkward silence, eating until you were both fat and happy. When you finally decided you were done you leaned back into you seat. “That had to be the best meal I’ve ever had.”

Bakugo stood up and started collecting the dishes, “Dont take this the wrong way but it’s not like your pallet was all that expanded before.” He could see hurt flash over your features briefly before you schooled them back to neutral. He tried to salvage this conversation, “But dont worry I’ll try to stay away from cooking rice. I have a feeling you've had enough of that.”

You smiled as you stood up to help, “Here you cooked, the least I could do is clean up.” 

He took the plate that was in your hand, “Maybe next time... You’ve had a shower, you’ve been fed, now you just need to get a good nights sleep.” He gestured over to the hallway. “The bedroom at the end of the hall is mine. The one thats closest to us right now it the guest bedroom and the they're connected by the bathroom. I’ve been told I snore so I will apologize in advance for that. Go ahead and make yourself at home. There’s a tv and everything.” When you didn't move he gave you a light hearted nudge in the direction of the bedroom. “Honestly dont worry about it. I got it from here. Go get some sleep.” 

You weren't used to someone taking care of you and it made you feel suspicious. This was too good to be true. But you were also too tired to dwell too much. For the first time in a long time you were clean, full, and you actually have a bed to sleep in. Besides Ground Zero was a hero. Theres no way he’d do something to hurt you.... right? 

You tip toed over to your new room and marveled at how comfortable the bed looked. You pulled your pants off, opting for just the hoodie and boxers. Burrowing into the covers with your pile of comfy pillows beneath you, you practically hummed in comfort. You rolled over and saw Bakugo through the bathroom. He was also getting ready for bed in the dim light of his bedside lamp. He gave you a soft smile before closing his door. 

You weren't necessarily a fan of closed doors. You cant lock a door that isn't closed after all. But you felt safe none the less. You knew he was just in the other room. So you found yourself drifting off. 

You were back in your old room. Nothing but a bucket and a stained pillow so thin it may as well have just been a pillow case. You could smell the contents of the bucket in the corner and it made you want to puke. It was freezing but all you had for warmth was the thin tattered dress you wore. Your body hurt from how hard you were shivering. The pain in your stomach the worst of all. They hadn't fed you in a few days. Saying only good girls deserve food. You huddled further into yourself as you heard the deadbolt to what may as well have been your cell click. Someone was coming in. What do they want? The big guy walked in. The one with the crooked nose. “Time to take your medicine.” You thrashed around and tried to resist but he just held you down, laughing that sickly laugh that would haunt you forever. 

“NO!” 

You shot up in bed. Your face was soaked with tears. You felt a strong grip on you shoulder. You swung into the darkness and felt your fist connect with something solid. 

“Oi! relax its just me. You were having a nightmare. Thought I’d come wake you up.” 

You rubbed your eyes, “I’m so sorry I didn't mean to wake you.” 

He turned on the lamp on your nightstand, “It’s okay, it’s not like I have to work tomorrow anyways....” He was lost. He wanted to comfort you but he didn't want to crowd you. He also just met you today and shouldn't have such a strong urge to wrap his arms around you. But he does and he doesn't know how he feels about it. “So... do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “I’d rather not. I just want to forget all about it...”

Bakugo nodded, “Thats fair... well if you need anything I’ll be right through there.” He pointed through the doors to his room. 

You bit your lip as you mustered up your courage, “Do you think you could... I mean you totally dont have to... but if its okay with you... could you... possibly stay with me until I fall asleep?” 

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Uh... sure. I guess. That’s fine.”

You quickly snuggled back into your side of the bed and he got comfortable on his. He took a look at your sleeping face and felt his heart start to ache. You hadn't needed to tell him about your nightmare because you had already shown it to him. You had subconsciously pulled him into your dream and he had a front row seat to the horrors of your past. He reached out and brushed a stray hair away from your sleeping face. He’ll be damed if anyone tried to hurt you again. 

[myhauntedsalem]

The Boogeyman of Baltimore 1951

The summer of 1951 was a weird time in the city of Baltimore. The city sweltered under a heat wave and only the wealthiest residents of the region could afford air conditioners at the time. And there were no air conditioners to be found in O’Donnell Heights, a housing project on the southwest side of the city. This was a place where steel mill and shipyard workers lived with their families. For those folks, though, the steamy heat was less of a worry than the specter that was stalking their streets.

At some point in July, a tall, thin figure, dressed all in black, began sprinting across the rooftops of O’Donnell Heights. It leaps on and off buildings, broke into houses, attacked people, enticed a young girl to crawl under a car and played music in the nearby graveyard. Groups of young men patrolled the streets, while others waited by their windows at night, keeping a sleepy watch for the “Phantom Prowler” that eluded his pursuers and vanished into the cemetery before he could be caught. By the end of the month, police were arresting people for disorderly conduct and carrying weapons, but the phantom had disappeared and was never seen again. What in the hell happened in O’Donnell Heights in the summer of 1951? To this day, no one knows.

O’Donnell Heights was only eight years old when the mysterious stranger began making his appearances. Built as a housing project for defense industry workers at Bethlehem Steel, Martin Aircraft and Edgewood Arsenal during World War II, it was never meant to be either durable or attractive. Tightly-spaced, two–story row houses went up on sixty-six acres of what used to be farmland, a brickyard that belonged to the Baltimore Brick Co. and part of St. Stanislaus Kostka Cemetery, one of several graveyards in the immediate area. The others included Evangelical Trinity Lutheran Congregational, Mount Carmel, St. Matthew’s and Oheb Shalom Congregation Cemetery, but the phantom would show an affinity for St. Stanislaus and often appeared nearby.

By the time that the local newspapers realized that something very strange was happening in the Heights, the panic was almost over. Most of the stories that remain today come from the back pages of the Baltimore Sun and Evening Sun, which printed a handful of articles between July 25 and July 27, when the sightings came to an end. Reporters approached it as a “tongue in cheek” story with cartoon illustrations. No one seemed to know when the events had started, but on July 24, Agnes Martin told a reporter that the phantom had been seen for “at least two or three weeks.”

The first definite date discovered by researcher Robert Damon Schneck was on July 19, although the figure had undoubtedly been seen a number of times prior to that. On this date, though, there was a full moon and nighttime temperatures were in the 70’s. It was around 1:00 a.m. when William Buskirk, 20, ran into the phantom. He reported, “I was walking along the 1100 block of Travers Way with several buddies when I saw him on a roof. He jumped off the roof and we chased him into the graveyard…”

One of the other boys interviewed with Buskirk stated that, “he sure is an athlete. You should have seen him go over that fence – just like a cat.” The fence that surrounded the cemetery was six feet in height and trimmed with barbed wire around the top. According to the witnesses, the figure in black had leapt over it with ease.

Hazel Jenkins claimed that the phantom grabbed her some time the same week. She saw it twice at close-range and may have been attacked when the figure tried to break into the Jenkins home but her brother, Randolph, saw it soon after. He told a reporter, “I saw him two nights after he tried to break into our house… He was just beginning to climb up on the roof of the Community Building. We chased him all the way to Graveyard Hell.”

The phantom next visited the family of Melvin Hensler, breaking into their house on July 20, but stealing nothing. After this unnerving experience, the family went to stay with Mr. Hensler’s brother, but Mrs. Hensler returned to the house the next day and found “a potato bag left on the ironing board,” which she was convinced belonged to the intruder. Mr. Hensler was so exhausted from staying awake that his eyes ached and he had started talking in his sleep.

Storms on July 23 lowered the temperatures, but had no effect on the phantom. In fact, on July 24, he was especially active. Newspapers reported, “At 11:30 p.m. officers Robert Clark and Edward Powell were called to the O’Donnell Heights area where they were greeted by some 200 people who said that had seen the oft-reported ‘phantom.’ Clark said that they pointed to the rooftops and someone yelled: ‘The phantom’s there!’” The police drove around and arrested a twenty-year-old sailor carrying a hammer. He was fined $5.

A reporter from the Sun found thirty of forty people waiting around the back stoop of a house on Gusryan Street, waiting for the sun to come up. One of them, Charles Pittinger, had armed himself with a shotgun. He interviewed several of them, who passed along rumors and told of their own experiences. Some of them claimed the phantom lived in the graveyard and a woman who lived on Wellsbach Way, adjacent to St.

Stanislaus, suggested that the phantom was doing more than jumping fences and breaking into houses: “One night I heard someone playing the organ in that chapel up there. It was about 1 o’clock.”

The phantom was also reportedly seen beckoning to Esther Martin from underneath an automobile, saying, “Come here, little girl.”

The consensus of the crowd was that the phantom easily leaped from two-story buildings, flew over fences and was a general nuisance in the neighborhood. A man named George Cook admitted having mixed feelings about what was happening. He did not deny the reports of the phantom, just the possibility that something extraordinary was involved. In the end, he blamed the media. “It’s ridiculous to believe that a man can jump from a height and not leave a mark on the ground. Yet this character does it all the time. It’s my idea that when this thing is cleared up… it’ll turn out to be one of these young hoodlums who has got the idea from the movies or the so-called funny papers, and is trying to act it out. This sort of thing appeals to detective story readers who are mainly looking for excitement.”

Meanwhile, the police were busy ignoring the phantom and rounding up the “usual suspects.” On the morning of July 25, they arrested four boys on disorderly conduct charges at an unidentified cemetery. Around 10:00 p.m. that same night, officers arrested three boys on an embankment near the cemetery. Their six companions, all on the lookout for the phantom, fled the scene. An hour later, the police responded to a call from a resident who heard footsteps on his roof, but nothing was found. At some point the next day, Mrs. Mildred Gaines heard the sound of someone trying to break into her house and ran outside barefoot screaming, “It’s the phantom!” It was actually the police breaking down the door to serve a search warrant on the premises. Mrs. Gaines and four male companions were arrested on bookmaking charges.

By this time, the newspaper coverage – which had started off with reporters as baffled as the residents of O’Donnell Heights – turned humorous. The stories poked fun at the sightings, reported pranks by neighbors pretending to be the phantom, and carried a story about a phantom sighting on a rooftop that turned out to be a ventilation pipe. On July 27, the Evening Sun announced there were no more reports and that, “Police think it might be a teenager.” The phantom was gone, but the heat was back, with high humidity and temperatures in the middle 90’s.

Like most bizarre “flaps” of this type, there was no satisfying resolution to the panic created by the Phantom of O’Donnell Heights. An unofficial version claimed that residents finally chased it into the cemetery, where the phantom jumped into a crypt and vanished for good.

No one can say who, or what, this figure may have been, although based on the sheer number of sightings, something weird was happening in the neighborhood. Descriptions of the phantom were fairly consistent, considering that that the encounters were brief, took place in the dark, and he was usually moving at a good clip. William Buskirk said, “He was a tall thin man dressed all in black. It looked like he had a cape around him.”

The only one who mentioned the phantom’s face was witness Myrtle Ellen, who said it was horrible. She also agreed about the dark costume. The newspapers described the phantom as “black robed,” suggesting long, loose-flowing clothes. Mrs. Melvin Hensler, discoverer of the discarded potato sack, saw the phantom three times and said that during one sighting, it looked as though he had a hump on his back.

Theories abound about the “Horror of the Heights.” Sociologists have described the events in O’Donnell Heights as an example of an “imaginary community threat,” suggesting that the 900 families living there experienced some type of mass hysteria, whipped up by rumors and the media. It’s true that misconceptions undoubtedly played a part in the events, but they don’t explain the relatively straightforward experiences described by William Buskirk and other witnesses. The police never denied that people were seeing something but, like George Cook, thought it would turn out to be a “young hoodlum.” But if it was, he was never caught, exposed or confessed.

It’s also hard to accept that the newspapers played a part in creating any hysteria. The two local papers ran only six articles on the phantom, two of them mere fillers, and they were printed as the sensation was coming to an end. The only one that might be called “sensationalistic” ran on July 25 and included the experiences of a number of witnesses. However, it ended on a sober note: “The question of the prowler of O’Donnell Heights continued to be not one of the phantoms, but of people reacting to (and possibly creating) the unknown with their imaginations.”

Some have taken the phantom’s affinity for St. Stanislaus as evidence that it was an actual ghost. Part of O’Donnell Heights was built on land that once belonged to the cemetery, which contains a great many unmarked graves from the influenza epidemic of 1918. Also, bodies were exhumed and reinterred when Boston Street was extended in the 1930s, but it’s hard to see how this would stir up a spirit in July 1951.

There has also been the suggestion that the phantom was some sort of mysterious entity like the “Mothman” of West Virginia or the “Mad Gasser of Mattoon,” which plagued a small town in Illinois in 1944.

Whatever it was, it remains a mystery and one that – like far too many others – will simply never be solved.

[atc74]

Magical Mystery Ride

Square(s) Filled: A/B/O for @spngenrebingo and  Free Space for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo​ I used “Love doesn’t make the world go ‘round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.”

Warnings: Angst, Possessive!Omega, scenting, knotting, worried, sweet, fluffy Alpha!Jensen

Summary: When Y/N surprises her Alpha at work, she reacts unfavorably to his new assistant, but Jensen takes it all in stride, trying to understand. 

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 3681

Written for: @spngenrebingo, @as-the-saying-goes-bingo and for @katierpblogg and this request she sent in for my 1K notes celebration: Hii! Did I make it? Can i have “You can’t banish me! This is my bed/bedroom too!” with Jensen please!?! ❤❤❤❤ And also for @maddiepants​: Jensen x “Only if you promise.” I hope you both love this!

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches and @evansrogerskitten, thank you both so much for your feeback, support, guidance, and most importantly, your friendship. 

A/N: This officially pushes me past my post goal for the year of 150,000 words and I think it turned out really great. I am still getting the hang of writing the A/B/O universe so thank you for your support and patience. 

Curious about Jensen’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker​! (note: I have described Jensen’s scent from my own imagination and it in no way reflects on the manufacturer’s creation).

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families. 

With a wide smile on her face, Y/N pulled up to the security gate outside the studio. She knew Jensen had been working his fingers to the bone for an upcoming episode he was directing. He had been working sixteen hour days with barely enough time to eat and sleep. Y/N was a week away from her heat and was missing her mate. She decided to bring him lunch from his favorite restaurant. 

“Afternoon, Miss Y/L/N. Mr. Ackles know you’re coming today or you surprising him?” Barry, the day security guard, greeted her at the gate. 

“It’s a surprise, Barry,” she whispered, the smile growing wider. 

“Your secret is safe with me, Y/N,” Barry threw her a wink and opened the arm for her to pass through. She pulled into the nearest parking space and gathered the bags from the seat next to her. With food in one hand and the keys to Jensen’s trailer in the other, Y/N made her way to the row of trailers. Jensen had texted her letting her know they had returned to the studio from location scouting, and he was working on a fight scene before he met with the stunt coordinator. 

Y/N reached to insert her key into the lock when she noticed the door wasn’t latched tight. She pulled and immediately heard a woman’s voice. The smell of Omega was overpowering and, so close to her heat, had Y/N’s knees buckling at the scent. With a loud bang, her knees hit the steel steps as she gripped the door to steady herself. 

“Y/N?” Jensen’s voice boomed over her. “What happened?” 

“I came to surprise you with lunch, but you’re clearly busy,” she managed, reluctantly allowing Jensen to pull her to her feet and pick up the bag she dropped. 

“You brought me lunch from Pino’s?” He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling perfectly at the corners as he peered inside the bag. “Cannolis?”

“Um, yeah. Whatever, I have to go.” She turned to go, but his hand caught her wrist. 

“Jay, is everything okay?” The sweet voice belonging to the overly sweet scent carried through the open door. 

“Please stay. You’re upset about something. Talk to me,” Jensen pleaded, pulling her back up the stairs and into his trailer. “Y/N, this is my new assistant, Patty. Patty, this is Y/N, my mate.”

“Oh my gosh! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Y/N! Jay talks about you all the time.” Patty rushed forward to shake hands, bringing her sweet vanilla and apple scent with her. 

“Really? Funny, he never mentioned you,” Y/N snarled, suddenly feeling very possessive over her Alpha, and the look she gave him made it clear he needed to keep the strange Omega away from both of them. 

“Uh, Patty, why don’t you take a break and get some lunch?” Jensen directed her toward the door. “I’ll meet you in the gym for the stunt set-up in 90 minutes.”

“Okie dokie, Jay. Bye, Y/N! It was so nice to meet you!” Patty gushed as she bounced down the steps of Jensen’s trailer. 

“‘Okie dokie?’ Who says that anymore?” Y/N jeered, taking a seat at the island. 

“Honey, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Jensen came to stand by her side. “This isn't like you.”

“What’s wrong? I’m a week away from my heat, you’re working 24/7 and our anniversary is in four days. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks, Jay. I come to surprise you at work only to find your trailer reeking of vanilla sugar whatever and perky Patty who seems to know everything about me, but you failed to mention your ‘new assistant’ to me, your mate,” Y/N ranted. “I wonder what could be wrong!” 

“Hold on, Y/N, honey. You’re overreacting. Probably a side effect of your heat,” Jensen reasoned, only it didn’t sit well with Y/N, and he regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. 

“Overreacting?” Y/N stood, throwing her arms in the air. “No fucking shit, Jay. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same if the roles were reversed, and you found some young stud spreading his scent all over the place!” 

“Would you give me a minute and let me explain?” Jensen took a cautious step toward her, his hands up in surrender. It was common knowledge that Alphas in or near a rut were dangerous. Omegas were less common, but no less dangerous near a heat if they felt threatened by another Omega near their mate. 

“Enjoy your lunch, Jay,” Y/N ripped open the door, slamming it behind her. Despite the cool weather, sweat beaded on her upper lip, and her knees felt weak as she walked back to her car. She managed to get in and make the drive home, but no sooner was she exiting the car, did the first cramp hit her. 

“Fucking perfect,” Y/N grumbled as she made it to the elevator, into their condo and stumbled into bed. The pain was early, but most likely brought on by the scent of another Omega near her Alpha that was considered a threat. Now that she was home, surrounded by familiar scents, the pain started to ebb, even if it was only slightly. 

The sky was dark when she opened her eyes, realizing she must have dozed off. Looking at the clock, she realized it was almost six in the evening and her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had skipped lunch. After a quick shower and a simple dinner of scrambled eggs, toast, and a hot cup of tea, Y/N settled on the couch with new episodes of her favorite show. By the start of the fourth episode, the front door opened, revealing her tired mate. For a moment, her heart sank as she remembered what she said to him that afternoon, but, as soon as the stink of sugar hit her nose, she recalled why she had been upset in the first place. 

She stood from the sofa, retreating to the bedroom and slamming the door before the odor had a chance to permeate her safe space. Y/N nervously paced the room until a soft knock sounded at their bedroom door. 

“Y/N, honey? Can I come in?” She heard Jensen’s voice through the door. He sounded dejected and that made her feel bad, but it didn’t overpower her angry feelings of the events earlier that afternoon in his trailer. 

“No! Go shower the sticky sweetness off and get rid of the smell in the house,” she demanded. 

“Can I least have a change of clothes?” Jensen asked quietly. 

She gathered a henley, boxers, and a pair of sweats and shoved them out the door quickly to avoid letting the other Omega’s smell in their bedroom. 

She collapsed on the bed, with tears in her eyes and cramps rolling through her abdomen. The shower started and she rolled over onto Jensen’s pillow, finding a small amount of comfort in his scent. An hour later, long after the tears had dried on her face, there was another knock at their door. When she didn’t answer, Jensen opened the door slowly, only to see her curled into his pillow. 

“Honey, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Patty. Can we talk?” he asked, walking around the bed to sit where she could see him. “Y/N, please talk to me.” 

Y/N opened her tear crusted eyes, looking up into the green orbs she loved so much. His scent filled her nose, and she rose up to her knees, wrapping her arms around him, scenting him deeply. “I’m sorry I overreacted.” She pulled away, taking another breath when the scent hit her again and she saw red. She pushed him away and scrambled off the bed. “Get out. You can sleep on the couch.” 

“You can’t banish me, this is my bedroom, too,” Jensen protested. 

“Fine, then I’ll go,” Y/N took her pillow and stormed from the room, flopping down on the couch. The stink was everywhere and was driving her mad. She rushed to the kitchen, grabbing the scent neutralizing spray from under the sink. She sprayed everywhere she thought he had been since he came home, starting with the entry and working her way to the bathroom. Feeling slightly more settled, she returned to the couch, sinking into the cushions and pulling a blanket up to her chin. Finally closing her eyes, she heard the faint sounds of footsteps. Cracking open an eye, she found Jensen laying down with a blanket and a pillow in front of the sofa. 

“Jay, what are you doing?” she sighed, feeling exhausted from the day. 

“We’re not going to bed angry or apart, so if you won’t come sleep in our bed, I’ll sleep out here with you,” he responded calmly. 

“Don’t you get it?” she snapped. 

“No, honestly, I don’t. Explain it to me, please. Help me understand why you’re so upset with me,” Jensen pleaded. 

A heavy breath left her lungs before she spoke, trying not to lose her cool this time. “I feel like I never see you. You’re working all the time, only coming home to sleep and you’re gone when I wake up. I miss my mate. I come to the studio to surprise you, just to spend an hour with you while we’re both awake, only to find some new, young, unbelievably perky and too sweet assistant in your trailer.”

“Honey,” Jensen started to explain, but she cut him off. 

“Her scent in your trailer set me off and, in such close proximity, I lost it. My body views her as a threat, and it triggered my heat,” Y/N informed him. “I know you think it was unreasonable, the way I acted, but my brain and body felt it was justified.” 

“Are you feeling better now?” he inquired, concern filling his voice, his brows furrowed. 

“A little, being home, surrounded by your scent helped, but then, when you came home, it followed you. I can still smell it and I’m cramping again,” she winced, as if on cue, another cramp overtook her. 

“Patty was hired by Bob and Andrew to help me. She is young and ambitious and eager to learn everything she can about the industry and film,” Jensen reported. “For your peace of mind, she is also newly claimed, and she introduced me to her mate today. I’d like to invite them for dinner after the episode wraps, if it’s okay with you. I think you’d like them both.” 

“She’s mated?” Y/N looked down at him, her hand reaching out for his.

He linked their fingers together, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “Happily. Like disgustingly happy. And it’s new, I think that’s why her scent is so strong. After I claimed you, for weeks your scent was stronger, the lemon slightly more pronounced and mouth watering. To the mate, the scent is enticing and indicative of happiness, of the fulfillment of their bond.” 

“You smelled like beer on the first day of spring,” Y/N giggled. “The sweetness of fresh cut grass and hops, and soft, warm sandalwood. I remember like it was yesterday.”

“What do you say we get some sleep?” Jensen looked at her from his spot on the floor. 

Y/N didn’t answer him right away. She just slid off the couch, straddling his lap as he laid on the floor. “We could get an early start on my heat instead.” 

“Hmmm, you think so?” he asked pointedly from underneath her. 

Again, she didn’t respond, instead she started a slow grind down into him, feeling him harden against her heated core. “Mmm, yes.” 

Jensen had felt horrible all day since she stormed out of his trailer, for not immediately knowing what his Omega needed, but, now that he knew, it was going to play out a little differently than she expected. He gently lifted her off of him to lay her upper body across the sofa cushions. “Tell me what you want, Omega.” She mewled quietly in response. He rarely used his Alpha voice on her, but he knew the things it would do to her, so he didn’t hold back. “Use your words, Omega.” 

“I need you, Alpha. Please, I need your knot,” Y/N answered, her voice smooth as butter. Jensen knew what she needed, but the Alpha in him wanted her to say it, to beg for it. “It hurts, please give me your knot.” 

“Show me where you need me, ‘Mega,” Jensen commanded. 

Slowly, Y/N lowered her leggings and panties, her slick already dampening her thighs and the thin cotton stuck to her skin. She reached her hand between her legs, running her slender fingers through the wetness, slipping inside. “Here, Alpha.” 

Hearing his title flow from her plump lips while she fingered herself made his cock twitch in his shorts, and a low growl emanated from his chest. He pushed his boxers and pants down enough to free himself. He fisted himself with one hand, running the other over Y/N’s backside, then up and over her spine, pushing her down into the soft cushions. He coated his tip in her slick, running it along her sodden folds. “Here, Omega? Is this what you need?” 

“Yes, Jay, please!” The end of her plea caught in her throat as Jensen pushed into her in a single thrust, burying himself deep inside her warm, wet pussy. “Ungh!” 

“Yeah, that’s it, honey. Let me feel you,” Jensen grunted through his first few thrusts as she clenched tightly around him. He picked up speed as she relaxed around him, keeping his thrusts hard but measured, giving her what she needed and he craved. 

“Oh yes! Alpha, harder!” Y/N cried out. 

“Oh, you want me to fuck you harder? Show you whose pussy this is?” Jensen panted. 

“It’s yours, Alpha, always yours,” Y/N moaned, when he started pounding into her, nailing her g-spot head on. 

“That’s right. This perfect fucking pussy is all mine,” he declared. “Now I want you to come all over my cock. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes! That’s my cock and I’m going to come all over it, show you whose cock that really is,” she gasped as he rammed into her. 

“Only if you promise,” Jensen groaned, feeling his knot thicken and begin to restrict his movements. He snaked his hand from her hip between her legs, barely grazing her swollen clit with his calloused fingertips and she exploded around him, the sounds from her mouth alone spurring him on. He gave one final thrust, locking them together as his knot caught inside of her, her walls still contracting with the force of her orgasm. Jensen’s body seized as he emptied his seed inside her. Unable to think clearly, he lowered himself over her, placing kisses along the soft skin of her neck, scenting her as they regained their breath. 

Jensen gathered her in his arms, lowering them both to the floor gently so he didn’t pull on his knot still locking them together. He pulled the blanket over their cooling skin and held her close, one arm under her head, the other over her waist. “Feel better?” 

“I feel fantastic. Thank you, Alpha.” She yawned and drifted to sleep in his arms. 

Luckily, Y/N’s heat passed quickly and Jensen wasn’t too far behind on his preparations for the next episode. By the time she was back to feeling 100% a few days later, she decided to visit the set once more. She felt calmer this time and, more importantly, she felt she needed to apologize to Patty. 

Barry greeted her as usual, and she parked her car before heading to Jensen’s trailer. Just before she unlocked the door, Patty rounded the corner, a large box in her hands, squeaking when she saw Y/N at the door. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” She glanced around nervously. 

“I just came to surprise Jay, but I’m glad I ran into you. I was wondering if we could talk inside,” she smiled. 

“Well, Jensen is in a meeting right now. Um, why don’t we get some, uh, coffee? Yeah, coffee. I just love coffee,” Patty rambled, walking toward the food service tent. “Come on, let’s get coffee!” 

“Oookay,” Y/N replied, thinking Patty had already had enough coffee. The young PA was already about ten steps ahead of her. Now that she was thinking clearly, Y/N realized that Patty’s scent was more apple pie and was quite pleasant. She reached the tent just as Patty peeked her head out.  

They ordered coffee and took a seat at one of the empty tables. “Patty, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted the other day when we met. I’m, uh, I’m normally a very nice person, and not, like that. I was close to my heat, and it just caught me off guard, so I’m sorry.”

“I completely understand. No hard feelings. I wanted you to know how much I enjoy working with Jay. He is a brilliant director and completely devoted to you. I can see how much he loves you when he talks about you. It’s quite sweet,” Patty smiled warmly. 

“Jay mentioned he would like to have you and your mate over for dinner after the episode wraps. It was Ben, right?” Patty nodded excitedly. “So what do you say? You want to come have dinner with us?” 

“Oh my gosh! Y/N, we would love to! That means so much. Jay told me I would love you and that we would get along and I think this is going to be great!” Patty gushed. 

“It’s settled then. I’ll have him give you the details. I’m going to head back to his trailer and wait for him.” Y/N stood to excuse herself when Patty’s phone lit up.

“Oh no! It’s Jay. He said the van broke down and he won't be back until later,” she relayed the message. 

“Well, I guess I’ll hit the grocery store and head home, then. Thanks for the coffee, Patty,” she waved and walked back to her car. Y/N planned on making Jensen’s favorite meal for their anniversary tonight. It was New Year’s Eve and the store would already be a madhouse, but they decided to stay in instead of dealing with the crowds. 

It took an hour, but Y/N finally made it back home with the groceries. She glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing she had just enough time to put dinner together and in the oven before she got ready. With any luck, Jensen wouldn’t be stranded on the side of the road all night. She sent up a silent prayer as she prepared dinner. 

With dinner finally in the oven, Y/N headed to the bathroom for a shower. She took her time making sure her skin was silky smooth for her Alpha. Emerging from the steam in just a towel, she crossed the hall to their bedroom, but stopped dead in her tracks. 

Jensen stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by candle light. “Jay, what are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he answered dryly, but cracked, laughing out loud. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Patty said the van broke down…” 

“I asked her to feed you a story, so I had time to do all this. I’m sorry I’ve been working so much and haven’t made enough time for us, but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. I love you, Y/N,” Jensen crossed the room to pull her into his arms. 

“Jensen, I love you,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. She pulled back after a moment, looking around their room. Candles flickered atop the wardrobe and nightstands, the room bathed in a soft golden light. “What is all this?”

“Well, what does it look like?” Jensen smirked.

“A really romantic fire hazard,” Y/N giggled. 

“Yeah, there’s my Omega. Making fun of my sappy side,” he chuckled along with her. “But, honestly, I don’t do it enough and you deserve to be shown how much I love you, not just today on our anniversary, but every day.” Jensen dropped to one knee in the middle of their bedroom, holding a brilliant diamond, it’s facets sparkling in the candle light.  

Her hand flew to her mouth, tears already welling up in her eyes, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. 

“Y/N, you’ve made me the happiest man alive, the luckiest Alpha and turned my life completely upside down from the moment you entered it. I’m no astronaut, but if you’ll have me, I’ll do my best to give you the moon and the stars every day for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

She fell to her knees beside him, her mate, her Alpha. She held his stubbled face in her hands gently. “You’ve already made me the happy Omega I only ever dreamed I could be. Every single day we spend together is like discovering new galaxies. I don’t need the moon and stars, Jay. I just need you. To be my mate, my Alpha. My husband.” Y/N pressed her lips to his. A sweet, gentle kiss that promised of many more tomorrows. 

With shaky fingers, Jensen slipped the ring on her finger, placing it over his heart. “They say love doesn’t make the world go ‘round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile. Thank you for agreeing to take this crazy ride with me.” 

“I’d never want to take this ride with anyone else,” Y/N replied, pulling him down to her. All of the late nights, the missed sleep, and lack of time were forgotten as they got lost in each other. Finding each other was accidental, but loving each other was a choice made by two hearts that became one. 

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada:  @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza​ @kickingitwithkirk​  @wi-deangirl77​ @hobby27​ @mogaruke​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid​ @seenashwrite​ @manawhaat​ @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @emoryhemsworth​

The Dean’s List/Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @maddiepants​  @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-jackles​  @akshi8278​

[tardis-sapphics]

24! ☀️

thank u!

24: ‘my child’

this one is perhaps a bit long but i do love this a lot. hope you enjoy! also, would recommend this absolutely gorgeous song to accompany your reading!

The end of war is a feeling as much as it is a moment, Yaz is discovering. It is a shared feeling, something so innate to a people, it is impossible to feel on your own. When the final order is given, the last papers are signed, and the last casualty breathes their final breath, there is all at once, and slowly, a burgeoning emotion.

It grows and grows. A new dawn: first comes the birds, the heralders of the new way; then the light creeps in. It will illuminate everything, even the things best thought of in shadow. But it is inevitable, and it is graceful.

When it illuminates the worst, it does not so do out of glee. It does so as an imploring—an attempt to make new a bitterly fought moment.

They all feel it, thrumming through their veins. This call of grace, this call to begin again.

In the battlefield, the four of them had held hands. They had witnessed the passing of war, and watched a new world begin.

Their tent, adjacent to the Commander General for their now-defunct role as brokers of peace, is gradually being illuminated in the same dawn light as every tent on this battlefield. And like the others, the material is not thick enough to blot it out. It creeps, but it is sure.

Yaz watches the slow brightening, the way one follows the curious journey of a single insect, focusing on every detail she can observe. For two days, her head has been full of nothing but war: the clashes, the screams, the consequences. There is something liberating about this—the chance for small things to be given equal eight once more.

The orange of the tent is lightening, from a dull and shade to something rich, vibrant. She feels her own vibrancy in it.

To her left, Ryan and Graham snoring away in their sleeping bags. The Doctor, she can hear, is in the front section, possibly fiddling with something or other. In moments of quiet, she usually is.

And Yaz is content to let the morning stay that way, to find richness in the slow, but the morning has other plans.

Outside, on the battlefield, she hears a child crying.

They must be crying loudly for the sound to reach them inside the tent. Many tents, in fact, with the way they have been clustered together. But these are soldiers, generals—not families. This kid must be lost. Her heart pangs for them.

Five minutes later, and the child’s cries have turned into weepy calls for their father. They sound young, so young, and no one is going to help.

What is this world, this new, hopefully world, if no one will help a child?

Yaz crawls through to the front section to find her shoes—and sees the Doctor doing the same. Quick fingers tie up her boots laces, and Yaz gets to work on her own.

When she looks up, finished, the Doctor is smiling at her. Two days’ worth of mud and hard work are showing on her clothes, her coat torn at the edges. But she looks as bright as ever. ‘The others?’ she wonders, her voice still a whisper.

‘Asleep,’ Yaz confirms. She nods at the Doctor’s boots. ‘You gonna look for the kid too?’

‘Of course.’ Something flashes in her eyes: sadness, but not just. ‘This is no place for a child.’

The kid is difficult to spot amongst the sea of orange; the sides of the tents dance in the whipping wind, as do their flags, and each movement is distracting. So, too, are the sentries who patrol the thin pathways between the rows of tents; most of them are in an early-morning daze, rendered almost useless by the cessation of war. There would be a perfect haze of suspension, a potent need to wait—if it were not for the child.

‘Papo!’ the child calls. Yaz grabs the Doctor’s arm. They are much closer now.

In the midst of war’s debris, they find her. Clad in what Yaz has to assume are pyjamas, she trails a blanket in the churned up mud, turning white cotton to mucky brown. Her light blue eyes are bright with tears like little crystals, her face puffy from crying, she staggers between the tents, searching.

Sniffing, unharmed, and innocent. At the sight of her, Yaz’s heart aches.

They walk towards her slowly, aware of her eyes on them. The entire time, doleful but curious. Yaz smiles as she bends down in front of her, waving a quick hello. The Doctor grins at her, but she is busy scanning the immediate area for any disturbances.

‘Heya,’ Yaz starts. ‘I’m Yaz. And this is my—’ she clears her throat ‘—this is the Doctor. It’s lovely to meet you! What’s your name?’

The girl pouts at her, assessing her. Eventually, she answers. ‘Vay.’

‘I love your name; it’s beautiful,’ Yaz smiles, and Vay brightens, just a little. ‘You look a little lost. Are you trying to find your Papo?’

It upsets Vay, who sniffles again. ‘Moma said I could see him today but I dunno where he is.’

Yaz nods. ‘Would you like us to help you, Vay? We know some important people who can find your Papo for you. Only, it’s very early in the morning and no one else is awake yet. D’you want to come with us?’

Vay takes a moment to consider this, but eventually she does accept, reaching for Yaz’s hand. Yaz breathes a sigh of relief.

Vay warms to the two of them quickly. She likes the way the Doctor talks, quick and fast and silly. She appreciates Yaz picking her up and keeping her close. Yaz is warm and kind and always asks if Vay is okay with what they’re doing.

They try their hardest to make Vay feel safe, on this battlefield with countless lives lost around them.

Back at the tent, Yaz introduces their new companion to Graham and Ryan, who are barely awake. Ryan is still groggy and moody, but Graham pushes away his exhaustion to play granddad.

The Doctor pulls Yaz to one side. ‘I’ve scanned her,’ she informs her quietly. ‘She’s not using a cloaking device, or a perception filter, and she’s not a different species.’

‘So she’s a child,’ Yaz says, a brow arched.

‘She’s a child. But you never know, Yaz! Some aliens are wily like that,’ the Doctor protests. ‘Anyway, her father will definitely be in one of these tents. That’s why she’s here, or at least why she’s been close, because according to the Renshaw Law these lot passed two centuries ago, children aren’t allowed anywhere near a battlefield.’

‘Which means she’s walked a long way,’ Yaz surmises.

The Doctor nods. ‘From the timeframe we’re working on, her mum was given clearance as soon as the war ended, last night. That means they’re family to a high-ranking official; they’re always the first to see loved ones.’

She looks as if she is about to say something else. There is a curious light in her eyes.

Yaz dismisses what she was about to say, and asks, ‘What?’ instead.

The Doctor simply smiles. ‘Just—you’re amazing, Yasmin Khan. You’re bringing a family back together. I’m very proud.’

Yaz flushes.

Even though the five of them can hear the squadrons around them waking up, the four adults know that no one will be ready yet. This is peacetime, and everything here is loose. The light may be here but the morning isn’t ready yet, so they stay, and wait for the first calls of action.

It helps, too, that Vay is a little charmer. Now fully awake, Ryan has been won over in an instant—but she is staying by Yaz’s side, so he volunteers to wash Vay’s blanket and win over her affection that way. Whilst Vay waits for her blanket to return, she allows herself to be entertained by Yaz’s tickles and silly faces. The Doctor supplies her with a few custard creams from her coat pocket—‘For breakfast!’ she grins—and Vay takes an immediate liking to them.

In a free moment, when Vay has launched herself, yet again, at Graham, Yaz notices the Doctor watching her. She doesn’t feel embarrassed, just settled. She smiles back.

Ryan returns half an hour later with a sopping wet blanket, but it is clean and Vay is delighted. Light is everywhere now, indistinguishable from the world, and the morning is warming up. So, it seems, is everyone else: pots are cooking hearty breakfasts, strips of meat and boiled grains. As they leave the tent, the smell of food hits Yaz square in the stomach, and it growls impatiently.

In her arms, Vay wriggles around to poke Yaz’s belly. Crystal-blue eyes narrow and she grins a growl in response.

Yaz laughs. ‘Perfect!’

The Commander General’s tent is far larger than theirs, and already busy with personnel. Any snippets of conversation that reach Yaz’s ears tell her they are co-ordinating the extracting programme. They are going home.

The five of them are not noticed by anyone, until the Commander General himself bustles through his throng of people. He is busy asking an adviser questions when he alights on Vay—and freezes.

Vay immediately perks up. ‘Papo!’ she crows delightedly. Yaz lets her to the ground, and she runs, wet blanket in hand.

She is in his arms in an instant. He scoops her up and swings her about, beaming. This commander, always hard and unfeeling the previous week, is sobbing as he reunites with his daughter.

There are tears in his eyes. Yaz’s heart squeezes at the sight. This man could have died today—but the war is over, and here he is.

She feels a hand take hers, and looks to her side to see the Doctor beaming at her.

‘Where did you find her?’ he demands. ‘My little miracle.’ Vay giggles, recognising the phrase.

‘We found her wandering the field,’ the Doctor starts. ‘Early dawn, by herself. Very brave.’

‘She was calling for her Papo,’ Yaz adds. ‘We kept her safe until we could find her dad.’

‘S’pose that turned out to be you,’ Graham says.

‘Yes. Yes, that’s me. Thank you,’ the Commander General breathes. ‘I cannot thank you enough. My child, my child.’ He kisses the top of her head. ‘My child.’

Leaving Vay is harder than Yaz expected it to be. But Vay is curious and silly and she is safe, at last, on this battlefield, with her Papo.

Vay doesn’t want them to leave, either. But when she understands they must, she gives Yaz her blanket.

Yaz leaves with tears in her eyes. Happy.

They don’t wait around. As the day beckons, so does the TARDIS; so does the rest of their lives. They are glad, at least, to be leaving on a successful note.

It could have been much, much worse.

Before closing the doors to the TARDIS, she takes one last look at the field. So much violence, and bloodshed, and loss—but hope now, too. A new world is waking up, a good world, where a child will find their father. And she is grateful for it.

Round the TARDIS console, Ryan teases his granddad about Vay defeating him in a tickle fight. The Doctor is typing up a destination onto the screen: Sheffield, Earth, 2020.

Silently, Yaz walks up to her. In one hand, she has bundled Vay’s blanket, cold in her palm. With the other, she reaches out for the Doctor.

The Doctor looks up and smiles. And links their fingers together.

send me numbers!

[azo-dye]

Theatricality, Ch. 8

Read the full fic HERE on AO3 or just the chapter under the ReadMore. Full disclosure... there be bj’s ahead... 

...

Dean was in trouble.

Rehearsal went smoothly enough. Dean sat in the back again, smirking to himself as Cas tried to correct what now was looking like a much deeper attitude problem with the students than before. If they were aiming for Shakespeare, however modern, they were pretty far off the mark. Dean wouldn’t call himself an expert by any means, because seriously—apart from Sammy’s brief stint in middle school theater—he had no idea what constituted as quality work. Still, the kids’ awkward phrasing and flippant half-hearted gestures didn’t lend itself well for showing any sort of respect.

He did have to chuckle at Cas’s attempt at giving stage direction though. It was clear that this was a battle of wills between someone who was never educated on the actual terminology of what was supposed to be happening and kids who didn’t give two shits if they were being given direction or not.

“No, further up the stage, Michael… no—okay, stop there. Perfect. Don’t move.” Cas sighed as he adjusted his glasses, his annoyance apparent even from Dean’s spot a few rows back. He wondered if Cas had any actual acting or directing experience. He said he was originally supposed to be a speech teacher, and Dean could see that a bit more. Cas, with his thick-framed glasses and his pretentious—hot as fuck—eyebrow tilt, absolutely bringing down the house with a debate on foreign politics or whatever other brainiac topic that would have interested him at the time. He could see Cas bent over a thick textbook in a dusty library somewhere in the historic part of Chicago, maybe scribbling notes in a notebook as he pored over it. He also had a rather intriguing image of Cas pressed up against a shelf of those textbooks, collar unbuttoned and yawning to the side, exposing his sharp collarbones, breath panting and scruff dark on his skin, but not quite dark enough to hide the hickey that Dean—

Dean shifted in his seat. Probably not the right time.

After rehearsal, Dean had grabbed the bag Cas had stuffed all the hats into and met him at the doors leading back into the shop. Cas chased away the last of the teenagers at the paint counter, and turned to lock up for the night.

“We still don’t have a good place to burn these.” Dean pointed out. He wasn’t crazy about starting a fire in the parking lot of the motel, and he knew he’d have a trooper on his ass in about twenty minutes if he tried to drive out to the country to do it. With so much open space and farmland, almost everyone was looking out for each other’s property.

Cas shrugged as he nudged the stage weight that was propping open the last door. “Might have to do it one by one in my fireplace, I guess.” He glanced over. “You wanna come over for a drink?”

Dean blanched. “Well… maybe that’s not—“

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” Cas laughed, totally at ease. Totally ignoring the fact that Dean almost had him by the mouth again in the costume room a few hours ago. “We have the hats, and we need somewhere to get rid of them anyway. Nothing untoward. It’s just a drink, not a marriage proposal.” Cas said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in time with the tilt of his eyebrow. The very same one that Dean had fantasized about earlier.

“Uh.” Dean was super intelligent in times like this. He really, really shouldn’t set himself up like this. He knew what would come of any time spent alone with Cas right now. He didn’t want to break his own heart—whatever was left of it—and he certainly didn’t want Cas to feel obligated or anything.

So yeah, Dean was definitely in trouble.

As it was, just a drink turned into three, which almost inevitably turned into Dean and Cas sitting side by side on Cas’s tiny excuse of a sofa, a bottle of whiskey, a few beer bottles, and three shot glasses between them. Dean was pretty sure they’d had four at one point, but one was on the floor or something. He wasn’t actually too sure. The hats still lay in their bag by the side of the couch, and normally Dean would have made sure to finish the job before indulging like this, but his nerves were currently winning in his battle of priorities.

Cas was slung back across one end of the sofa, legs stretched out with his toes tapping against Dean’s foot. Dean leaned back against the other end and just looked. Looked at Cas with his long, loose limbs, and his messy shock of hair—even messier when Cas ran his hands through it. Dean wondered how it was possible for one person to look so good while so disheveled Cas reached up and palmed the back of his neck, drawing Dean’s eyes to the soft swell of his bicep. He knew for a fact that Cas wasn’t as scrawny as his appearance with his shirt or his profession might suggest. Knew that Cas had some muscle of his own there. Sleek, sinewy muscle, like a runner or a swimmer. Built for speed, instead of bulk. Dean also knew the strength he had in his hands, knew it from the grip Cas had kept on him both in the car, dragging him back down to meet his mouth, and by the way he had pulled Dean in when they were in the costume shop earlier.

“This’s a bad idea?” Dean had to wonder aloud.

Cas frowned and nudged his foot solidly. “Why s’this a bad idea?” His brows were furrowed like he was puzzling Dean out.

Shrugging, Dean let his head loll back for a second. “I know what your mouth tastes like.” Couldn’t get the taste of it out of his head actually. He kept replaying the first moment his lips touched Cas’s, and that brilliant electric shock that had coursed through him. He’d felt the sparks come back earlier this afternoon, and he was fighting the urge to see if that same voltage could be attained now.

If possible, Cas frowned harder, his confusion evident in the crook of his eyebrow. “So? I know what yours tastes like too.” He said this like it didn’t make Dean hot under the collar.

“So...” Dean trailed off, distracted when Cas took a sip from his nearby beer, licking a stray drop from the rim. “... so, it’s weird.”

“Then don’t think about it, Dean.” Cas pitched forward and leaned into Dean’s space, peering up at him from beneath his lashes. “Don’t think about it and it’s not weird.”

Dean tried. He really did. He stared hard at Castiel, eyes running over his lips and eyes, down to the open collar of his throat between the buttons Dean can remember undoing with his teeth not 24 hours ago, “Can’t.” he said, pursing his lips grumpily.

“Can’t think about it?” Cas’s confused look was back. “Or can’t not think about it?” Christ, but they were really going to have a hangover the next morning. He backed off, leaving Dean on his side of the sofa.

Dean sighed. “Guess I’m not good at not thinking about it.” He reached for his own beer, twisting at the label. “You’re good at it though.”

“What makes you say that?” Cas smirked.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look at me like that. Like I look at you.”

“How do you look at me?” Cas asked slowly.  

He stopped. Even with this much alcohol in his system, he didn’t want to give himself away. He shook his head. “Too embarrassing.” He admitted, with a sheepish grin.

Cas grinned crookedly. “I like the way you look at me,” he said. “I especially liked the way you were looking at me last night.”

This changed everything if Cas knew. Knew how he felt and encouraged it. Dean shifted to press down the butterflies he felt in his stomach and coughed. “I thought we were going to be professional about it.” He looked down the neck of his beer, feeling himself get red.

“Of course,” Cas said. “My apologies.” Even without looking at him, Dean could tell he wasn’t sorry at all. “But how do I look at you? You never said.”  

Dean looked up to see Cas with his head tilted thoughtfully. “You look at me like...” he stopped to consider again. The look in Cas’s eye had him swallowing around a sudden dry throat.

“Like you’re something to eat?” Cas leaned in and smiled with all his teeth, earning a bark of a laugh from Dean.

“Maybe that’s it.” He smiled, despite the feeling of butterflies roiling in his belly again. He really hoped he wasn’t about to puke. That would definitely ruin whatever mood they had going here, as well as bruise his ego for the next few days.

Cas tilted his head and took another sip. “You do look pretty tasty from here.”

Dean blushed, grinning the whole time. “Nah, I prolly taste like cheap beer and cheaper whiskey.”

“Want me to find out?” Cas asked, his smile crooked with intention that stopped Dean in his tracks entirely.  

Dean didn’t have a good answer to that. As Cas tipped forward to press his lips lightly to Dean’s own, something flipped from feeling slightly woozy and drunk to fucking wide awake. Cas was still as good of a kisser as he remembered, and he felt himself leaning into it entirely too much to be a drunken fling. A second-time fling? He eased back from Cas, a hand pressed to Cas’s shoulder where he was pretty sure he’d been holding on for dear life a moment ago. Cas’s gaze searched his, not disappointed. Just watching.

“I really shouldn’t do this.” Dean started, strangely breathless. He scrunched his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Cas. It’s—“

Cas’s hands untangled from where they had curled in the front of his shirt, and Dean opened his eyes, cold at the loss of his warmth. “No, I’m sorry, Dean. I assumed—I shouldn’t have done that.”

The butterflies froze in his chest.

“Cas…” he started. Cas shook his head and leaned back against the other end of the sofa.

“That was rude of me. You said no, and I kept pushing. My deepest apologies..” He sounded oddly formal in his embarrassment. Dean stared as Cas’s hands started fluttering around the coffee table, gathering beer bottles and shot glasses, pink in the cheeks. He moved to stand. To leave. Dean panicked.

Without thinking, Dean threw himself across the sofa, intercepting Cas’s hand as he moved. With one hand, he turned Cas’s face to his and locked onto his mouth again. With the other, he wrapped around the back of Cas’s neck and pulled him in tight. He got his thumbs on either side of Cas’s jaw and opened his jaw so his tongue could taste Cas’s. He trailed his tongue along Cas’s soft palate before the other man got with the program and swung a leg over his lap. Cas pinned him back against the sofa, and fucking ground down with those hips of his. Dean couldn’t move, his arms were up by his shoulders, being pressed into the fabric upholstery by the other man’s strong hands. His legs were spread wide to accommodate the welcome weight in his lap. He pressed up into the friction, groaning into the next kiss. This was just as good as he remembered last night. Maybe better, now that he had some idea of what to expect. He really wanted to get his fingers into that wild, dark hair, but Cas didn’t look like he was up for giving him any independent mobility any time soon. Dean finally pulled back to gasp out for air. Cas nipped at his neck, before pulling away as well.

Cas squinted at him. “Why did you do that?” He asked, his voice whiskey-rough and lust-stoned. Dean felt himself twitch. If Cas knew how he felt, encouraged it, and was pressing for more… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge one last time.

“I changed my mind. I really wanna do this.” Dean was definitely breathless now, his gaze skittering all over Cas’s face. He could feel his pants getting tight, and by the look in Cas’s eye, he was about two seconds from losing his shirt. He also couldn’t decide if his earlier goal to get his hands in Cas’s hair was as important as his new goal to get those same hands down Cas’s pants.

Cas didn’t say anything for a moment before frowning. “Are you drunk?”

Shaking his head, Dean tried to focus on something other than his raging libido. “No. Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Another pause. “Are you sure?”

Which, alright. Very fair question. Dean nodded and leaned in again, whining when Cas pulled back again. “Please, Cas.”

Cas leaned in until his lips were a millimeter from Dean’s. “I knew it,” he whispered hotly, his lips twisted in a smirk Dean desperately wanted to feel against his own mouth. “I knew you were jealous about Melody. And I knew you wanted this again.” Cas moved his hands from Dean’s wrists to better support his weight while he made himself more comfortable in Dean’s lap.

“Yeah, I really fucking want it.” Dean breathed into him, pressing up at an angle to get at Cas’s mouth.

Cas gave back as good as he got, scratching through Dean’s hair in a way that set him on fire. “That’s okay,” he whispered back. “I want it, too. Been thinking about it all day.”

Dean’s hands came up to his hips, cupping the strong muscle there as he pressed his fingers into it. He scooted down further into the couch, pulling Cas’s weight into him. It was nice, sitting here on the sofa, just making out with Cas. Of course, he had other ideas in mind of what he’d like to do, but getting there was half the fun.

The other man was getting impatient though, it seemed. Cas hitched his hips forward, pressing them together all along their fronts. Dean gasped as he felt exactly how into this Cas was too. The feel of another man’s cock throbbing against his, even through a few layers of cloth was overwhelmingly sexy, and as Dean laid his head back to the feel of Cas’s teeth along his carotid artery, he couldn’t help thinking that it was a damn shame he hadn’t been able to show up to the hospital that morning and show off the big ol’ hickey on his neck that was already there from the previous night to put Melody in her place. Maybe now he would with a matching one on the other side.

“Dean, can I touch you?” Cas murmured into his skin, punctuating it with a lush kiss. Dean nodded, pushing against the other man’s body to make some room to get his shirt open. Cas’s hands replaced his, smoothing down the sides and deftly undoing the row of buttons. His touch was warm, tracing up the planes of his chest and down to where his stomach muscles were jumping. Cas pushed Dean’s flannel shirt off his shoulders, Dean leaning forward slightly to help. He kept one arm wrapped tight around Cas’s waist to steady him. Cas tossed the flannel to the side, backing out of Dean’s grip and away from his mouth. Dean moved to follow, but was pushed back with a firm hand to the middle of his chest.

Shimmying down, Cas dropped to his knees in front of Dean. With a hand on each knee, he parted Dean’s legs, making room for himself there. Dean struggled against the instinct to close his legs, feeling a little too exposed. He knew he was watching Cas with a dopey, drugged expression, his mouth partly open and his breath coming in puffs. Cas looked up at him and licked his lips. “Can I suck you off?”

Dean managed a nod and heaved a lungful of too-hot air before Cas’s hands went to his belt buckle. The jangling of metal sounded loud in their tense bubble, and as Dean sat up a bit to facilitate Cas sliding the belt through the loops of his jeans, he glanced quickly towards the window, where the lamp sat. Anyone could probably see in and watch them getting cozy with each other. He shifted in his seat.

Cas glanced up, and followed his skittering gaze. He got up fluidly, which allowed Dean to appreciate the very nice bulge at the front of his slacks, and walked over to click the lamp off. The room was cast into darkness, lit only by the light-up sign from the grocery store across the street and the changing stop light on the corner. Dean barely managed a nod of thanks, for understanding his weird hangups, before Cas sank down again in front of him, palms trailing up his thighs like brands, scorching the surface and leaving light in their wake.

“Oh shit.” Dean heard himself whine, and he leaned his head back, gaping up at the ceiling as Cas wasted no time pulling his zipper down and reaching inside to pull him out. He’d had plenty of blow jobs before, but the fact that it was Cas—the same person who’d been driving him crazy all day—made it that much sweeter.

Pressing kisses to the head and down the shaft, Cas kept his eyes on Dean, moving with him as his hips rolled. When he clenched the fabric of the sofa, Cas went harder. When he relaxed and took a deep breath, Cas changed tactics. Dean felt like he was being strung along higher and higher, with no chance to get used to the sensations. He was fully aware he was getting worked up much faster than he usually did. Dean’s gasps turned into higher-pitched whimpers as he felt Cas’s warm hand sneak down and grind a knuckle into a patch of skin behind his balls that made him see fucking stars.

“What the fuck are you doing to me, man?” He felt slightly hysterical asking. Cas smirked around his cock—and seriously, who does that?—and sank all the way down, taking him deep into his throat. The fucker winked and swallowed. Dean gripped the other man’s shoulder as his stomach muscles contracted and he felt his eyes cross with the force of his orgasm. He hitched forward and felt his groans take on an urgent note. Dean was going to die here, and he was going to die the happiest son of a bitch on the planet. He jerked each time Cas lapped at the head of his cock, hovering on the edge of overstimulation, muggy galaxies still swimming in his vision.

He was still panting and sprawled bonelessly when Cas finally granted him mercy and popped back up, grinning smugly. Cas sat next to him on the couch, pants tented obscenely, and with a low fire burning in his eyes, even in the dim light. Dean tried to make himself more comfortable to lie on when Cas fit himself next to him, but his muscles still weren’t cooperating.

“So, was it good?” Cas asked as he sucked at a spot under Dean’s ear, causing him to have to rein in a whine. Cas continued laving at the spot, and the sound of his breath in Dean’s ear was causing quite the rally effort in Dean’s pants.  

He blinked. “Shit.” He croaked, his voice hollow enough to let Dean know that yes, he had actually been crying out exactly as loud as he dreaded he had been during that whole episode. He frowned when he heard Cas laugh softly.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” He accused gently, turning enough to snag Cas’s mouth again, fucking in between his lips in retribution. “Or maybe you’re just a show off.” He nipped at Cas’s bottom lip, feeling a tick of a smile when it made Cas’s breath stutter.

“Definitely a show off,” he answered. “Fuck, Dean. I love kissing you.”

Dean couldn’t disagree, especially when Cas proceeded to show how much he enjoyed kissing him by pulling him sideways so they lay atop one another. Dean lost his t-shirt quickly, and Cas was running his hands over his chest, thumbing across his nipples with pleasurable electricity thrumming between them. Despite his best intentions, Dean likely wasn’t getting it up again soon. He could still feel his stomach muscles jumping from his orgasm as Cas tried to rile him up again. He could still get Cas hot though, and—given the impressive erection Cas was grinding into his hip—that was his current goal.

Cas pulled back, breathing heavily. “What does this tattoo mean?” His fingers skated over the black star-sun over his heart.

“Protection,” Dean panted back. “Not that kind—“ he scoffed at Cas’s smirk, “Protection from demons, that sorta thing.”

“Do I want to know about demons?” Cas asked, gasping into the air of the living room as Dean set out to give him a hickey that matched his.

Snorting, Dean rolled his hips firmly to give Cas something to thrust against. “Honey, I hope you never have to know about demons.”

Cas grinned, stroking over the ink. “Such a charmer.” He yanked Dean back down with an arm around the neck. Dean couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to have a habit of getting this man in the same position two nights in a row. Or maybe Cas had the habit of getting him in this position.

“Hey,” Dean pulled back, licking his lips and chasing the taste of Cas off his mouth. “Can I try something?”

The wide-eyed look on Cas’s face told him that Cas was willing to try about anything Dean asked if it meant getting their mouths back together and their skin touching again. Still panting, Cas nodded.

“I—I’ve never… done it before—“ Dean was nervous, performance anxiety like he hadn’t experienced since he was sixteen. “But… I still wanna try it.” He hauled himself upright, before clumsily settling on his knees at Cas’s feet. He glanced up at Cas meaningfully, half-terrified and half-aroused out of his mind.

Dean didn’t think Cas’s eyes could go any wider, or his irises any blacker, but he was dead wrong. “You want to give me a blow job?” Cas gritted out, his fingers clenching around nothing.

Nodding, Dean swallowed hard. “I haven’t done it or anything,” he said quickly, not wanting to get Cas’s hopes up if he was truly awful at it. Who knew? What if he threw up or did something equally and horrifyingly embarrassing? “You have to—tell me what to do.” He cleared his throat when his voice cracked. He settled his gaze at Cas’s knee, still covered with his work slacks, though the zipper was splayed open. He focused on the strong joint there, where he knew Cas was packing some strength in his legs, had felt them wrapped around his hips. He knew this must not look sexy or anything, the way he was on his knees, nervous about giving a blow job. He’d gotten dozens of them over the years, he didn’t mind bragging. Surely, if some random short dark-haired, light-eyed waitress in the middle of rural Ohio could make him come so hard he blacked out momentarily, he could give this his best shot.

Then again, he was starting to see a pattern in the people he chose to fall for—however temporarily.

A hand under his chin jerked him out of his reverie, and his gaze was pulled to meet Cas’s. Cas seemed to be searching his face, intense as anything, just probing his expression. “You know I’m not expecting anything, right?” Cas asked lowly, his words going against what his eyes were practically screaming. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Dean answered quickly, surprising himself even. He knew he wanted Cas’s dick something awful, wanted to feel the heft of it forcing his jaw wide, wanted to wring noises out of Cas until he couldn’t see straight. He just didn’t know how much he was willing to admit that to the man attached to the dick in question.

He shuffled forward on his knees, running his hands up Cas’s slacks until he got to his fly. “Please, Cas,” he whispered. He reached in between the flaps of his pants and stroked him gently through the navy boxers underneath. Cas’s cock was hot and so, so hard underneath the fabric. The man above him sighed, his breathing ragged. Cas tipped his head back at the feel of Dean’s hand. Cas’s fists were clenching beside his thighs. Feeling daring, Dean reached for his hand. Cas tried to intertwine their fingers, but that wasn’t what Dean was after. He pressed Cas’s hand to the back of his head, Cas’s fingers twisting gently into his hair.

“Okay,” Cas whispered, “I’ll show you how.” He fit his other hand to the curve of Dean’s jaw, and when Dean thought he was going to get pushed down, Cas tilted his head up to look at him again. Dean unscrewed his eyes just in time to get tugged back up to kiss Cas. It must have been an awkward angle, with Cas leaning down, and Dean straining upward, but he couldn’t care less. Frankly, any time spent away from kissing Cas was time wasted, in Dean’s opinion. There was a new hunger to the kiss now, like Cas was doing his very best to worm his way inside Dean’s skin. Cas pulled away. “You have to relax,” he whispered. “I promise not to choke you, but if you’re tense like that, it won’t be good for either of us.” He kissed Dean again. “Relax for me, baby.”

Dean sucked on his tongue for a moment before pulling back and nodding. “I want to do this,” he nuzzled against Cas’s temple once more before setting back on his knees. He took a breath and pulled Cas’s cock out from underwear, where it stood proudly in the dim light. He could hear Cas panting above him. Cas still had his hands in Dean’s hair, stroking instead of pulling. Dean licked his lips and leaned in, pressing a wet kiss to the head, keeping his eyes on Cas’s expression. When he heard Cas’s breath hitch above him, he grinned to himself and leaned in again, this time taking the entire head into his mouth and swirling his tongue around, tasting the tacky precome. Keeping his teeth out of the way, he leaned forward and sank down as far as he could, which wasn’t very far, if he was being critically honest. He suctioned around the shaft, pulling a grunt from Cas. He started a rhythm bobbing up and down, using his hands on what he couldn’t fit in his mouth.

“Fuck, Dean, so good,” he could hear Cas babble above him. “Fuck you mean, this is your first time? Ah—!” Cas yipped a bit as Dean’s teeth caught him in a sensitive spot, but it quickly turned into a long groan as Dean soothed it with his tongue. Dean settled in closer, pushing Cas’s knees further apart, in an effort to get closer. Cas’s hands were so tightly clenched in his hair, still not pulling, but enough to make tears spring into Dean’s eyes. Not that he dreamed of being anywhere else.

Dean was surprised to find that this was doing it for him too. Maybe he wasn’t surprised though—everything with Cas seemed to do it for him. Cas was encouraging without being patronizing, just genuinely glad to be there with Dean. He didn’t seem to mind that it was Dean’s first time giving head, and was instead just enjoying the attention. Dean wasn’t sure if he should feel sorry for the guy that even a first-timer’s attempt was apparently getting him off, or smug about the fact that he seemed to turn Cas on as much as the reverse was true.

He must have been doing this for some time, because before long, he felt Cas’s hands again, pulling him up and away. “Dean, I—I’m going to come—“ and Dean dove down with renewed fervor. Cas thought he’d be too chickenshit to go for the whole deal? Fuck that. He groaned around the feel of Cas’s cock, his jaw wider than he thought it could go. Finally, finally, he felt Cas’s hands pulling him closer, really going for it now. “Fuck, Dean—!” Cas let loose a pained grunt and came.

In all honesty, Dean was a little caught off guard. The flavor wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever had, but the fact that it was the result of his efforts taking Cas apart was what made it so appealing. He tried to get it all down, but he knew he missed some as it dripped down his chin. He pressed kisses to Cas’s cock as he worked through the aftershocks. When he finally leaned back to wipe his face, they were both panting.

Cas shifted to tuck himself away, his hands trembling. Dean leaned back on his hands, propping his knees in front of him, knocking lightly into Cas. “How’d I do? Notes?” He was only a little breathless. He worked his jaw a few times.

“Very adequate. Probably went too deep at first, but… that’s fixable.” Cas grinned at him.

Dean chuckled. “Fixable, huh?” He lounged back, settling into his elbows. He huffed a sigh at the ceiling. “That’s hard work, you made it look easy.”

Cas laughed too, “I’ve had years more practice, don’t sweat it.” He tilted his head, still smiling, before heaving himself off the couch and pushing back into Dean’s space on the floor. He laid over Dean’s body and crowded in close for a kiss. “Not that you should, anyway. That was thoroughly” he pecked Dean’s cheek, “absolutely” his other cheek “satisfactory.”

They laid on the floor making out for a while longer, both wiped out and stinking like sex. Eventually, Cas pulled away and straightened up, reaching down for Dean’s hand to pull him up too. “I think it's time for bed, don't you?”

Dean grinned and let himself be pulled. His gaze happened to catch on the bag that had been kicked over by the sofa. The hats spilled from the bag, some under the sofa where he’d have to lean all the way down to reach them. Great.

“Never got around to burning those, did we?” He nudged one with his toe.

“Later,” Cas said, tugging him down the hall back towards where Dean knew his bedroom waited. “Plenty of time for that tomorrow.”

Dean had to agree.

[darlinrogue]

"You know,"—Kenny lifts his head, weary, from the window and glimpses Adam, exhausted as he drives through the vacant streets of whatever city he'd managed to drive to without Kenny noticing—"you mentioned a girlfriend before?" An incongruous question, perhaps, but Kenny, truthfully, has wondered often about Adam's sexuality. And at three o'clock in the morning, he and Adam have to stay awake somehow: introspection it is. "Do you, uh, only like women? You don't have to answer—"

Comfort for Sol after the Dec 2. Dynamite We NEED IT

Adam and Kenny

A light waltz rolled from the radio in three-four time. A Strauss, Künstlerleben op. 316, written in 1867, a jovial, ‘gay,’ piece. Interjected into a Vienne at the edge of disaster as Austria crumbled around the carnival city. The song infused with a melancholic melody and yearning string instruments. The decaying nobility dreams of a glory day long past and danced the inevitable fall of their dynasty away. So, explained the smooth voiced disc jockey that introduced the piece with all the confidence of a history nerd who probably got shoved in a locker in high-school. Adam wouldn’t pretend he was smart like that, this station wasn’t his first choice. After five hours in the car they had cycled through: Adam’s playlists, Kenny’s playlist, and every other radio station on air. Thirty minutes into a marathon of Norteña music, Adam cracked first and turned on the benign classical music, played on a public air wave. All just to eke out some variety from the bland monotonous strips of American highway and interstate. Besides, no words, and especially no Spanish that he only half-understood in his current state, meant it required less brain power to process. A resource that was in dwindling supply for Adam. 

Adam tapped his finger against the steering wheel in time with the waltz. Apparently, this was like old fashioned twerking. A dramatic, intimate dance where partners held each other close and danced vigorously. Despite the song being undeniably wonder bread white, Adam found a natural ebb and flow that sparked a desire to move in some way. Bob his head a little bit, tap his foot, all as he nudged the cruise control-up another notch. The car engine revved and the speedometer edged in at a solid eighty miles an hour. With no one else on the road Adam dominated the left lane. It was a pure head rush, breaking the speed limit with no restrictions and no witnesses. All while listening to a playful violin trill. Brights on, illuminating the tall cedar, oaks, and pines, twined with dense underbrush on the sides of the road. The, black, ominous trees walled the interstate, trapping them, forcing them the only way forward. The white and yellow marked pavement extended far into the twisted dark, with hints of gentle turns far off. A couple miles down the road, twin red taillights glowed like angry eyes. The mapping program on his phone noted their exit was next. He compressed the breaks, the cruise control flicked off and Adam coasted onto the ramp. 

Kenny shifted, and the movement drew Adam’s attention for a split second. Kenny sat in shotgun with the chair leaned back. His hands threaded through his hair and rubbed at his eyes. Best as Adam could tell he had spent the past three hours passed out and had not even been roused when Adam smack him for snoring. In a moment or two he was upright and alert, peering-out the window, his curly hair like the silhouette of a mop. Adam explained they were taking a diversion into Knoxville for the sole reason that Adam had to go pee. Kenny muttered his assent. 

Google Maps took them to a beat-up 24/7 gas station at the edge of the city. Moth riddled, flickering and humming, fluorescent lights illuminated the cracked pavement of the parking lot. Lined beneath the front windows was stacks of firewood, an ice machine, and a tire pressure gauge. Adam left Kenny to fill-up the tank while Adam lunged out of the car to make use of the facilities. Inside, an exhausted looking twenty-something attended the counter and her phone. Over the top of the rows of junk food riddled shelves, Adam saw the bathroom. After taking care of his physical needs, on his way-out he perused the aisle while Kenny took his turn in the Powder room. He bough a couple packages of cookies, crackers, and bags of chips. Then, a coffee from himself from a somewhat suspect machine and a bottle of 2% from the fridge, for Kenny. Adam paid at the register and sipped on his caffeine as he stepped-off the curb outside the station. Cars rolled by on the road, whispering with the heated Summer wind. Kenny, already back outside, stretched-out beside the car, his gold hair white-washed by the lights. Sliding into the front seat, Adam offered Kenny the milk on one stipulation: Adam could use it to thin his coffee. It turned-out that he had purchased mud water. Kenny agreed and they were back on the trail, navigating the downtown and suburbia, in search of the road North. The street lights faded, and into this darkness, as Adam waited for a red light to turn green, Kenny began his thought: 

You know. 

Green light, go, Adam hit the gas, and rolled through. For a second, once through the intersection, he glanced at Kenny. In the dark car, lit by the thin dashboard glow, Kenny peered at him, curious, bur not pressing. There was a glimmer in his blue eyes. Adam returned his gaze to the windshield and the passing silver screen of Knoxville scenery. A right took them back onto the highway and Adam merged with the sparse traffic as he processed what Kenny asked him. You mentioned a girlfriend before? Do you only like women? Back on the smooth sailing of the interstate, Adam sunk back in his seat and sought comfort from the shitty coffee. It tasted bitter and yet smoother with the milk. 

“You asked me two questions, there,” Adam observed, lifting a corresponding number of fingers. It’d be easy to only answer one, Kenny wouldn’t force it. He resolved, tongue darting over his chapped lips, to answer both. He reached-out and turned down the radio to but a couple notches. “And uh, well, I guess, the answer to both is it’s complicated.”

“I mean, yeah, these things usually are,” Kenny joked, he leaned back his seat a little bit and propped a foot on the dash. He glanced at the mapping program on Adam’s phone and the oppressive number of hours left, “We got time though, so take as much as you need. Like, I’m just curious is all, and if I keep sleeping in this chair I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow, Piz.”

“Well, to answer the first question,” Adam chuckled. “I did have a girlfriend, once, back in college.”

“Ah, a college sweetheart--” Kenny teased. “That’s classic.”

“Yeah,” Adam chuckled. A fond smile spread on his lips. Like those arrogant, dancing nobles in Vienne, he thought of a time long gone. “We’re still friends, you know, we talk every now and then, meet-up for lunch or something, she’s married now, pregnant, with her first kid.”

“Okay, but that’s all past tense, what happened? Give me the details, man,” Kenny said. He interlaced his hands behind his head, shifting in the car seat. “I mean, if it’s not too hard, or anything.”

Adam shrugged, one shoulder-up to his ear with casual dismissal. Maybe a few years ago it would’ve been 'hard’ but things had changed. He had changed-- or rather, something had changed around him. There was someone else now for him to be heartbroken over. The old stuff were all scars now, not wounds that leaked with the slightest prod. Not like they used to. 

“So, the deal is I went into college with like, two years of credit, yeah?” Adam said, he checked over at Kenny to make sure he was following. “You can imagine this kinda put me in a weird spot. I was a Freshman but also basically a Junior and I was taking the classes in my major right away. I didn’t make a lot of friends that way, though. So, yeah, she was a little older than me and her name was Amanda. Long black hair, dark eyes, kinda short, but pretty, she was an art student, so we met in like this advanced drawing class. And Kenny, holy shit, I have to show you pictures of some of the stuff she does, when we get to the hotel, it’s nuts. Like these hyper realistic watercolor and oil paint portraits, that look even better than the actual thing. She works as a like, a background artist in L.A., now, so she’s legit. Way better than anything I could do.”

Kenny hummed, low in his throat, and Adam took that as a cue to continue.

“So, we met in class, and, over the course of the next semester we got to know each other, really well,” he said. “Like, I was hanging-out in her apartment to do projects and she was hanging-out in my dorm. I moved in with her for my Senior year, after she graduated. She just needed a roommate, you know? And not long after that we just, kinda started dating. I don’t know, it’s-- it’s hard to describe, even now, how I felt about her. Like, just this intensity I never experienced before. I really thought I was sick, actually-- like my stomach hurt. I called my mom and she told me I was a dumbass, and that I had a crush. It’s just that I was never interested in dating in high school, like I talked to girls and stuff, went to prom with one of my friends, but nothing like, you know?” Adam made an almost helpless gesture with his hand.

He rested his palm against his thigh. His other hand guided the steering wheel. Then, real quick, Adam focused on setting-up the cruise control again. If he had to compress the gas for the whole trip, his right hip would be sore as hell by the time they reach their destination. A couple nudges and they were flying at a clean eighty again. Adam took that time to organize his thoughts. Kenny didn’t say a word, but Adam could tell he was waiting for the elaboration.

“I really thought,” Adam murmured, his voice softened, wistful. “That I was going to marry her. Like, I was going to jewlery stores, looking at engagement rings, trying to figure-out how to save-up.”

“What, really?” Kenny asked, he leaned forward in his chair, elbows digging into the arm rest. “Seriously, man?”

“Yeah, we dated for almost two years after I graduated,” Adam said. “I was working as a teacher and she was a freelance artist, it was really great. Of course, I was traveling a lot-- on account of the wrestling thing, and she came to some shows, I don’t think she really got it? Amanda was sensitive, wouldn’t hurt a fly and she didn’t really vibe with fighting. Which, is fine, I was fine with it. I mean she watched these soap operas that I didn’t get, so it was kinda even, you know? But I think all that time away from home didn’t do a lot of good for our relationship. You know I was young, Kenny, like twenty-two? And she-- she got a job in California, and we talked about it, and--”

“Just didn’t work-out, huh?” Kenny asked, voice low. 

Adam shook his head, lips pressing together into a thin line. He still recalled that conversation over the dinning room table. His hands interlaced in front of him, her on the other side, going through the logistics. She was so good at that, planning. That was something they shared in common, overthinking. This move was a dead necessity for her career. Texas just didn’t have the same opportunities that the City of Angels did. Except, Adam was training in Texas, fighting in Texas, teaching in Texas. It was the middle of the school year during his internship. He couldn’t pack-up and leave. The suggestion she came to was obvious but it didn’t make it easy. They break-up, go their separate ways, not try to force all of this to work to the determent of them both. For years Adam cursed himself for agreeing. He believed, as he laid in bed alone and cold, ruminating on his failures, he should’ve fought harder. Fought harder for them. Hung-up on what could’ve and should’ve been. It hurt more when she found a new guy in California. He still went to her wedding and was her best man. Because Adam still loved Amanda and he always would. 

And he was okay with being next to her, because their relationship, their bond, was more important than his wounded pride. 

“Yeah, it didn’t work-out,” Adam agreed. “I was, upset, for a while. A long while, actually, like, I really thought I’d never get another chance like her again, but--”

He paused, and ended the thought there. Amanda was so amazing, so brilliant, so awesome, and funny, and caring and kind, and she loved cats. She picked out local art for their apartment. Yet, Adam also remembered her occasional moods where she just couldn’t be talked to until the storm passed. The way she set her mind on things was sometimes endearing, sometimes frustrating. She wasn’t perfect, but she was great. It was apples-to-oranges, to compare her and Kenny. They were completely different people and Adam loved different things about them-- yet, it was still love. It couldn’t be measured or quantified. The only time he had ever felt this intensity before was with Amanda. He really didn’t think there was another person on this planet who could steal his heart like Amanda did. Then he met Kenny, and fell in love with Kenny.

And whoops, there was at least one other. 

“You know, you live, you grow, you move-on,” Adam said, he shrugged again and nodded to himself. “If we hadn’t split I probably never would’ve gone to Japan, or met you and the Bucks. Or, joined AEW, never been tag-team champion. It’s a real Robert Frost poem, I could be a teacher in L.A. right now, instead of-- well, driving eight hours to Chicago in the middle of the night, but my point stands! I-I imagine you get it, picking between your career and well, sometimes relationships.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get,” Kenny muttered. He looked out the window. His nails scrapped against his jeans. “You know how it was with me and Ibushi. How leaving Japan felt. Especially, after we reconciled after so many years-- but that’s how it is.” He trailed off, leaving the thought behind.

“So, like, were you two ever,” Adam interjected. He glanced over at the same time Kenny did. Adam darted his gaze back to the red, feeling his cheeks heat and rosette. A deep appreciation for the late hour filled him. “I mean, like, I don’t know how to ask this. Were, you and Ibushi, you know, together? Like, together, together. Obviously, it’s not my business, but I’m just, just curious, is all. Like, the Golden Lovers, man? There’s some crazy rumors out there.”

Kenny laughed, a full chuckle that churned Adam’s stomach and yet set his face on fire. That sound made Adam feel warm, he wanted to hear it again desperately. “Yeah, Kota and I dated. We were together for like six years, and yeah, like you, if same-sex marriage was legal in Japan, I would’ve married him.”

It was such an upfront statement. a matter of fact If he could, he would, but the lack of gold ring on Kenny’s left finger told Adam he didn’t. Kenny nodded to himself but the silence lingered, the sentence wasn’t finished. The clock turned over to 3:23 and they passed an exit with bleeding, gold lights, with hotels, restaurants, and street lamps. 

Kenny continued, but his voice was softer and more raw. “But then-- well, I screwed it up. I mean, I really messed-up. It wasn’t like you and your girl, where it was a pretty understanding with a clean break. I didn’t trust him, like I should. I thought he was going to leave me and so, I left first. Then like an idiot, I lashed-out, and ruined everything we built, and it ended. Just. Like. That--” Kenny snapped his fingers-- “We never got back together but, we’re friends again, we made-up, you know that, but the things I did, the things I did to Kota-- it's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life.”

The night hid Adam’s expression. The darkness was a comfort. It hid the monsters in the back seat. The purr of the engine whispered in the absence of Kenny’s scathing indictment of himself. Like, he was judge, jury, and executioner, of his own tarnished soul. Adam could imagine what Kenny saw. His face in profile, the tree line whipping by the car windows, an impassive, emotionless, and neutral party, listening without comment to Kenny’s story. He wouldn’t  see the slight grimace or twisting of Adam’s lips. Remembering all the shit Cody said about Ibushi. Adam, twisting Ibushi, Kenny’s arms back, while Cody reared with a chair. Holy fuck, was he such an embarrassing idiot, a complete moron, a destructive piece of shit. If Kenny saw the guilt in Adam’s eyes their conversation would screech to a sudden halt. Akin to if Adam slammed the breaks on the car right now. Instead, Adam allowed Kenny to mourn and didn’t derail to his own bullshit. It was the only way he would’ve heard the next bit, whispered into open air. 

“He really was the first man I loved.”

Kenny sighed and leaned back into his seat, defeated, limp. Now, Adam realized, was definitely time to shift gears. Car analogies aside, Kenny couldn’t be left to ruminate. If there was a person who understood how much it sucked to obsess over an old ex, it was Adam Page. 

“So, you’re like, gay?” Adam asked. He placed both of his hands on the wheel. Shifting, he rubbed his fingers over the rubber and plastic, feeling the coarse texture. Sweat pricked his palms and he heard his pulse skip, skip, and then it was off to the races. “That’s cool by the way, I’m totally cool with that, I mean--”

“Close, but actually, I’m bi,” Kenny said. He chuckled and then nudged Adam’s elbow with his hands. The brief, familiar contact enabled Adam to crack a grin. “Bisexual, guys, gals, non-binary pals, it’s all good to me. I know I don’t talk about it a lot. It’s not something I really like to have out there, circulating. It could cause problems in Japan, and it could be a whole thing, but I trust you. We’re partners, and, it’s kinda something I want you to know, actually.”

Adam grinned to himself and nodded along with Kenny points. He straightened in his seat, wiggling his butt back so his shoulders were flush with the chair. With a crick of his neck he popped a vertebrae with a satisfying ‘clunk.’ 

“Yeah, I was, actually going to say,” Adam began, he swallowed. “I uh-- I am too, bi, I mean, like I think I am. I haven’t tested it but, I’m, pretty sure. I haven’t... done anything, with a guy, before? I just have these feelings? Right, you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Kenny said, drawing-out the syllable. Adam could hear the smile in his voice. “I know how it is. I know, I get it, it’s all in your chest, right?” Kenny moved his hand over his heart to indicate what he meant. “You see a guy and it all kinda clicks in your brain, same way it does for a girl. I get it.”

“You know I don’t think I’ve ever really told anyone that,” Adam said, a little breathless. 

Kenny shifted and his chair cranked upright. A fleeting, fluttering touch on his left elbow drew Adam’s gaze down. Kenny placed his hand on the center console between them, palm-up. He wiggled his fingers, an expectant invitation. Adam steadied his grip on the steering wheel and wiped his right hand down his jeans to clean the sweat off. He laid his hand in Kenny’s and Kenny interlaced their fingers, then squeezed. Adam wondered if Kenny could feel his stuttering pulse through the connected vital points of their wrists. Or, if he minded that Adam’s hands were damp. Yet, his nerves and troubled thoughts soothed, mostly to a stream of ecstatic proclamations about how he was holding hands with Kenny. 

“I appreciate you being honest, Piz,” Kenny said. “I know it’s hard. Especially, when maybe you don’t have all the answers, but I’m glad you’ve figured some of it out. I don’t think I knew until I was in my twenties-- how about you?”

“Not long,” Adam admitted. Feelings, ideas since he was in high school, but nowadays he was totally certain. he rubbed his thumb over Kenny’s knuckles. Kenny had long, thin fingers, but a strong grip. Adam could feel his coarse callouses. The warmth of his hand. “In a way I always knew, this has always been a part of me. It was Amanda who helped me figure out the name for it, though.”

So, you’re bi, Amanda had said and Adam had stared at her like he was an idiot. Anytime Adam was around Amanda he felt like an idiot, but only because she was so smart. She had laughed at him and sipped on her beer. They sat outside on the porch, in cool Spring air, a rare balmy day at the outskirts of Los Angeles. She told him she was pregnant. He told her about Kenny. It was a fair exchange-- until Amanda asked him to be her kids godfather, or something similar, or whatever. And Adam had actually started crying, like a total sap. Yeah, yeah of course, that kid’ll be the best fucking horse rider this side of the Mississippi. She patted him on the shoulder and told him she’ll be cheering for him and Kenny. Next time she watched AEW-- because she did that every now and then these days. 

She really liked Sonny Kiss-- Adam always knew she had good taste.

“She sounds great,” Kenny noted.

“She is,” Adam agreed, nodding. “If you ever get to meet her, I’d think you’d like her.”

Adam cocked a slight grin. Something was lighter in him, the air a little clear. It felt better, it felt right, to say it. Adam Page is bisexual, he likes guys and girls, and other stripes of human beings. It was the only way he could feel what he felt for Kenny. Exactly like it was for Amanda. Stomach full of butterflies, every emotion magnified to a soul-aching need, so Adam was raw and on edge. This terror, nausea, built like a screaming tea-kettle, into agony the demanded a release to relieve the pressure. This time, though, Adam found no outlet. Amanda was the one asked him out first, to the movies, to see The Avengers. He remembered sitting in the darkness of the theater, alone and sweaty, until she laid her head on his shoulder. Amanda who confessed first and who drew-out of Adam the depth of his feelings. Now that Adam thought about it, it was Amanda who texted first, Amanda who called first, Amanda who kissed first. Amanda who broke it off first. Adam Page was not known for taking the initiative in his relationships. Yet, he always figured it out, caught-up learned, and followed her lead. If he could just do the same for him and Kenny-- that was a pipe dream so obscure it almost made Adam scoff.

He couldn’t ruin another good friendship, he just couldn’t. 

Adam was running out of bridges to burn. 

“You know, it’s weird,” Adam said. “Because it’s like, I’ve never done anything, with a uh, you know-- a man before. The opportunity has never really come-up. I just kinda wonder, how am I supposed to know these feelings are real?”

“Well, I don’t know if I can answer that one for you, Page,” Kenny said. “But I definitely didn’t know until I met Ibushi. Then, it was real obvious. Yet, I always had a sense of it.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Adam murmured. He squeezed Kenny’s hand and Kenny squeezed back. 

He definitely got it. At first, in the infancy of these feelings he’d thought they’d die or go away, like a bad head cold. Because Kenny Fucking Omega, could never love Adam Page. They were not in the same league, the best wrestler in the world and the weak link of the Elite. Then they were tag-team partners, and absence is not what makes a heart grow fonder, presence is. Long car drives,  where they shot the breeze about anything and everything-- just like this. Hours spent chilling in the same hotel room, showing each other stupid memes, or watching TV together. Plane rides with their heads stacked on each other and complaining about the pressure change. Working-out in the weight rooms and spotting for each other. Training together, practicing the Last Call ‘till they got it right and didn’t fucking hit each other anymore. The longer Adam spent with Kenny Omega, the more certain he was that he loved him. 

Loved him in a way he’d only felt once before. Loved him in a way that was different than how Adam felt about his mother. It was love, 100% all the way, love. True love-- wove, twue wove, to quote a good movie. Love that had all sorts of implications not just for his relationship with Kenny but Adam’s relationship with himself. How he understood himself and who he was. At twenty-nine years he was uncovering more and more about the person of Adam Page, the Hangman. Most of it, Adam didn’t like. Some of it, he did like, and he did like loving Kenny. Even if all he got to do was hold hands and talk. 

“There’s a pool at the hotel,” Kenny said, suddenly, breaking Adam from his introspection.

“Yeah?” Adam asked. 

“Yeah, I checked it out earlier,” Kenny said. “Listen, after we pass-out for a few hours-- you wanna go swimming? Of course, there’s the weight room and all that, we can do a few sets, blah, blah, blah-- but I wanna go swimming too.”

“I didn’t pack swim shorts-- did you?” Adam laughed. He had to wiggle his hand free, unfortunately, from Kenny’s grip so he could make a lane change. 

“Bro,” Kenny stated, and Adam could feel Kenny’s eyes drilling into the side of his face. Intent, focused, and dead serious, “We have large, ample salaries as the Tag-Team Champions of AEW that can fix that problem.”

“Fair point,” Adam admitted. He shuffled his hands on the wheel a little bit and then cracked a big grin. “But yeah, I’m down to work-out, I need to work on my bi-ceps.”

Silence, total silence, Adam shot Kenny the most shit eating grin. For a moment Kenny stared at him, wordless, as if processing that nuclear bomb. Adam had to return his eyes to the road. Then, Kenny smacked Adam’s shoulder. Adam laughed and then laughed harder, when he heard Kenny break into chuckles. 

“Do you think Tony Khan will let us change our team name to the Bisons?” Adam asked.

“No,” Kenny wheezed, his voice strained. He covered his eyes with his hands, shoulders shaking. “No, I don’t think so.”

In the wake of the laughter, Adam settled. Kenny leaned back his seat and despite his fear of cramps, was dozing in a few minutes. Dawn broke before they hit Cincinnati, a brilliant glow of purple, pinks, and golds on a distant blue horizon. It was right to Adam, to park on the 3rd level of the deck and to haul all their shit out of the car. Check-in, bleary eyed at the front desk, and then shuffle into the elevator, with a bagel, stolen from the breakfast, wedged in his mouth. Brush his teeth in the bathroom, kick off his shoes and pants, and then flop into bed. He vaguely recalled Kenny telling him good morning before they fell asleep. 

[kasdeyathebitterwoman]

A Ninja Warrior Love Story - Part 14

Hey y’all! Here we are at part 14! I hope you like it and get ready for more things to come!

Word Count: 3,065

CW: starving, verbal abuse, depression

taglist:

@maeleeme @andyrazzledazzle @henrycavillluv32 @blossom-a @jhenno2002 @fanfictionaddiction99

Stumbling into her apartment, Lily lazily dropped her bag onto the floor and shuffled her way to her bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, she fell into a fitful sleep for a few minutes. After tossing around for a few moments, she decided to check her phone. She turned it on and it immediately began buzzing with notifications. The majority were from Mar, asking if she got home okay and why she wasn’t answering her phone. A few were from Henry asking the same thing. The rest and most alarming were from Carter.

Hey Lily-pad, I just wanted to check to see if you had any suggestions about the job offer.

Please don’t ignore me, I know you’re not feeling well, but the least you could do is give me an answer.

Why aren’t you texting back? Are you really that angry at me that you can’t even help me out? Because it’s not me you’re disappointing, it’s my business partner.

Seriously? You are a fucking bitch, you know that? After everything I did for you, this is how you repay me? You sociopath bitch.

Lily read every text and went numb. She felt herself slipping away to the dark times again. Wanting to hear a familiar voice, Lily decided to call Mar. The phone rang a few times before hit picked up.

“You bitch, where the fuck have you been?” Mar demanded. Her first words to Lily in over 24 hours. Still numb, Lily accepted them knowing full well she deserved them.

“I wasn’t feeling good, so I turned my phone off,” Lily replied, her voice empty.

“Yeah, I gathered that from you text,” Mar spat. “God, Lily, I’ve been worried sick about you. I know that you’re upset, but you had no right to do this,” her words were dripping with anger, but Lily didn’t feel anything.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said simply. “I just wanted to tell you that I made it home. Thanks for showing me around New York. Sorry I scared you,” Lily could tell all of her words were empty, but he said them anyway.

“Lily,” Mar murmured, the anger gone from her voice.

“Anyway, sorry,” Lily said. “Bye Mar,” Lily could hear Mar saying her name and something else, but she was already hanging up the phone. She looked at her phone again and decided to call Henry. After a few rings, he picked up.

“Oh thank God, Lily, where the hell have you been?” Henry asked when he answered. Lily sniffed a little.

“I just wasn’t feeling good, so I turned my phone off so I could sleep,” she replied. There was a pause on the other end of the line before Henry spoke.

“Lily, what’s wrong?” Henry asked. Lily shook her head and replied.

“I’m just tired. I still don’t feel great, so I’m just going to sleep,” she said. She heard rustling on the other side of the phone.

“No, no, Lily, do not go to sleep, okay?” Henry asked, panic evident in his voice. “Stay awake. Keep talking to me,” she heard him moving around.

“No, I don’t feel good,” Lily said weakly. “I’m going to sleep. Bye Henry,” Lily said, hanging up the phone even though she could hear Henry calling her name. She clicked her phone off and fell back onto her bed, almost instantly falling asleep.

The knocking on her door woke her up. Lily rolled over to see the time on the clock. It had only been about 30 minutes since she fell asleep. The knocking started up again and Lily slowly climbed out of bed to check who it was. She stayed quiet in the hopes the person outside wouldn’t know she was up. Silently checking the peep-hole, Lily saw Henry standing outside her door.

“Lily, open the door please,” he called out. A pang pierced through Lily’s heart when she saw him and heard the pain in his voice. “Lily, please,” he pleaded with her through the door. Lily said nothing, but hung her head in shame. She walked back to her bed and fell asleep to the sound of Henry knocking.

—

Maybe it was hours, maybe it was days, Lily wasn’t sure. She laid in bed for what felt like forever. Her phone buzzed almost non-stop until it didn’t anymore. Dead. Occasionally, there was knocking on her front door, but she stopped getting up to check. She hadn’t eaten since Saturday, whenever that was at this point. The one time she tried to get up, she collapsed back onto the bed and passed out. Every time she woke up, it was either too bright or too dark. She stayed there with no intention of getting up.

Suddenly one day when it was too bright out, she woke up as someone was picking her up off the bed. They carried her out of her apartment fireman style. She moaned and whimpered a little, but said nothing else. Through squinted eyes, she found herself inside a car. Trees and road signs whipped past and they made her nauseous. She dry heaved and a steady hand stroked her hair. A familiar voice shushed her. Lily tried to look around for the source, but her shoulders were stiff from being unused. When the person picked her up again, Lily passed out.

When she woke up again, she was in a hospital bed. Breathing in, she felt an oxygen feed under her nose. She tried to move but felt her muscles sore and stiff. Her groaning disturbed the woman sitting in the chair next to her bed. Eleanor.

“Oh, Lily,” Eleanor said quietly, standing up from her chair. Lily frowned at her.

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice raspy. Eleanor looked at her with concern written all over her face.

“You’re at the Presbyterian Hospital,” she said quietly. “When you didn’t come into the gym or work for the fourth day in a row, Ray and Henry went to your apartment to check on you. They found you passed out and barely breathing,” her voice caught when she said it. Lily was confused.

“Henry?” she asked. Eleanor nodded her head.

“Yes, he came to the shop to ask Ray if he had a key to your apartment. He’s been worried about you,” she paused, looking expectantly at Lily. “He’s come by every single day since he brought you in,” Lily looked up at Eleanor.

“He brought me here?” she asked and Eleanor nodded. “How long have I been here?” Eleanor took a deep breath in.

“Today makes it six days in total. Four days in your apartment and two days here. You’ve been asleep for all of it.” she replied. “The doctors say you were severely dehydrated and malnourished. They figured you would need nutrients and sleep to get you back to normal,” It was Lily’s turn to take in a deep breath. Suddenly, the door to her room opened and Ray and Henry walked in. They were chatting about something when Henry noticed Lily was awake. Ray followed Henry’s eyes and he grunted when he realized Lily was awake.

“Well look who’s finally awake,” Ray said, his voice a mixture of amusement and anguish. Lily offered him a half-smile then turned her attention back to Henry, but he had dropped her gaze. Eleanor seemed to notice this whole exchange because she suddenly said to Ray,

“Ray, honey, will you take me to get a cup of tea?” Ray grunted at her and didn’t move from the chair he’d sat down in. “Ray,” Eleanor said firmly. It seemed to jar Ray enough that he looked at her. He grumbled about asking in the first place as Eleanor led him out of the room by the arm. So it was just Henry and Lily. Henry stood around awkwardly for a few moments before Lily attempted to sit up. Concerned, he came over to her to help. When she was sitting up, she gently pulled him down on to the small hospital bed. He said nothing at first then he suddenly asked,

“What happened, Lily? You were fine and then suddenly you weren’t. What happened?” Lily sighed and fought the fear of saying anything.

“I got sad and then I got scared and then I did what I do best,” she paused. “I locked myself away so no one else would have to deal with all these broken pieces,” she sucked in breaths, holding back sob after sob. Henry wasn’t looking at her, but she could tell he was on the verge of tears as well. “Because I’m so scared that everyone is going to leave. My biggest fear is that I’m not enough because the people that I was supposed to be enough for didn’t want me,” a loud sob escaped from her lips. Her whole body convulsed from the action. “I’m so sorry, Henry. I’m so sorry,” Lily sobbed. She pulled her knees up to her chest and cried. Henry sat there for a moment before reaching out to touch Lily. He said nothing for a while and Lily calmed down some.

“I’ve been hurt,” Henry said. “I’ve been used and abandoned,” he emphasized the word abandoned. “Yes, I’m fortunate to have a family, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been through shit. I’ve put myself out there time and time again only to be rejected,” there was anger in his voice. “So yeah, Lily, it hurts quite a bit that you seem to think I couldn’t understand what you’re going through. But I do.” he finally turned to look at her. Lily looked back at him through watery eyes. They sat like this for a moment before Lily spoke.

“I understand if you don’t want to do this anymore,” she said, quieter than she meant for it to be. Henry frowned at her then he suddenly popped up off the mattress and walked toward the door to leave. Shocked, Lily didn’t say or do anything. Silently, she watched him walk away and round the corner for the door, but it didn’t open. Just as suddenly, Henry came back marching toward her.

“The most frustrating thing about you, Lily, is you assume,” he started. He wasn't malicious with his words, but he was clearly angry. “You assume that I’m going to treat you like your parents or Carter did. You assume that because the one time you mess up, I will want nothing to do with you. You assume that any act of kindness I have to offer you is masked with ill-intent when it isn’t,” he stopped, breathing heavy. He looked down at her with an intensity that Lily didn’t understand.

“Mar said something similar in our fight,” Lily said mostly to herself, not really meaning to say it out loud.

“What?” Henry asked. Lily looked up at him and realized he’d heard her.

“In my fight with Mar, she said something really similar to that,” Lily repeated, but Henry still looked at her confused.

“What fight?” Henry asked. Lily realized she hadn’t actually mentioned it, only talked about the aftermath.

“On Saturday after we left the restaurant, Mar and I ran into Carter on the way back to her apartment,” she started and watched as Henry’s features softened. “He mentioned some job offer that I had no idea about. After he left, Mar told me it was in the letter he left for me but decided it wasn’t relevant enough to mention. I got angry and we fought,” she stopped to take a breath, realizing she was a little light-headed. “She said a lot of things I wasn’t ready to hear and I said a lot of things that were just mean,” Henry had come back to her bed. He was sitting on the edge, one hand resting gently on her knee under the covers. “When I got back to my hotel, he started texting me. It’s been non-stop. Even with my phone dead, I have a feeling he’s still sending messages calling me a bitch and a whore,” her voice trailed off as she looked around the room for her phone. Henry reached out to caress her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Lily, I had no idea,” Henry murmured. Lily looked over to him.

“You can’t know what I don’t tell you,” she replied, shrugging. Henry bobbed his head.

“True, but I could eat my own words and not assume that you actively chose to shut me out without good reason,” he said. Lily took a breath in, not sure how to respond. Henry took that as an invitation to continue. “I don’t want this to end, Lily. I love you, I do, but if we are going to make this work there has to be trust,” he said. Lily nodded.

“I know, Henry, I know,” she started. “I am trying. I feel safer with you than I’ve felt with anyone else for a very long time, but trust is hard for me,” she watched him as she spoke.

“It’s hard for me as well, Lily,” Henry replied. “I think we both have some work to do,” she nodded. Henry smiled at her gently. He reached out to cup the side of her face. Lily closed her eyes and pressed gently into the palm of his hand. Good god, she realized just how much she missed his touch. She gently twisted her face and kissed the heel of his palm.

—

The very next day, Lily was released from the hospital. Ray and Eleanor drove her back to her apartment and waiting outside was Henry and Kal. As soon as she stepped out of Ray’s SUV with the help of Eleanor, Kal was pulling on his leash to get to Lily. She smiled wide at the sight. Walking slowly, the trio made their way toward the duo with Kal watching Lily intently.

“Who is this?” Eleanor asked, looking down at Kal wearily. Henry and Lily smiled at each other, then at the big bear.

“This is my dog, Kal,” Henry replied. “He’s perfectly harmless unless there’s danger. Or a squirrel. Or a cat,” Henry’s voice trailed off as he realized his list was longer than anticipated. Lily and Eleanor laughed and Kal responded by shimmying in place, his eyes never leaving Lily. All of them walked up the single flight of stairs to LIly’s tiny apartment. It was a tight fit, but everyone made it in.

Lily walked into her tiny kitchen realizing something was different. She opened the fridge to find stacks and stacks of contained food, all courtesy of Eleanor. At the bottom of the fridge were rows of water bottles, courtesy of Ray. Henry was behind Lily and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into his chest, feeling him breathing. Leaning down, Henry whispered into her ear,

“They love you. More than you could possibly imagine,” Lily smiled to herself. She pulled away from Henry and wobbled over to Eleanor who was sitting on her couch, looking Kal in the eye and telling him what a well-behaved dog he was. She stood up when she saw Lily and the two embraced.

“Thank you, Ellie, for everything,” Lily murmured into her ear. Eleanor chuckled.

“We’re always here for you, sweet girl,” she replied, leaning back to take a look at her almost daughter. Lily suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion. She tried to hold back the tears, but they came anyway. Eleanor pulled her back in for a hug. “You’ve been so brave for so long, but I still see that little girl in pigtails when I look at you,” she said, her voice wet with her own tears. “I just want to see you happy, that’s all. That’s all that Ray and I can hope for,” she pulled away and looked at Lily. “You’re not your momma,” she said firmly. “And you’re not your daddy. You are the sweetest little girl this side of the Mississippi,” she said. Lily laughed through her tears.

Ray walked up to them and informed Eleanor it was time to go. Lily could see his eyes were wet and bright with unshed tears and she understood. She hugged them both, thanked them for the food and the water, and watched them walk out the door. Then it was just her, Henry and Kal. Lily collapsed onto her couch, exhaustion hitting her out of nowhere. Kal immediately hopped up with her and placed his front half on her lap. She chuckled and stroked his ears.

“I think this means you’re not allowed to leave tonight,” she said, looking up at Henry. He was smiling wide down at the two of them.

“I wasn’t planning on it anyway,” he said, perching behind Kal at the end of the couch. His dog looked back at him over his shoulder. Lily could only assume it was a look that confirmed Henry had no say in the matter. Henry chuckled and scratched Kal on his back. He looked up at Lily. “Are you hungry?” he asked. Lily shook her head no.

“I am kind of thirsty,” she said, realizing her throat actually was pretty dry. Henry nodded, then walked over to her little kitchen and grabbed a water bottle. She accepted it and graciously downed almost a fourth of the bottle.

“Whoa, easy there tiger,” Henry said, smiling a little. “You don’t want to get sick,” Lily laughed a little and Kal groaned in her lap. She looked down at him smiling then she looked over at Henry. Silently, Henry fished his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the scene.

“Oh,” Lily groaned. “You’re not going to post that are you?” she asked and Henry laughed.

“No, that’s just for me,” he replied, smiling warmly. He then texted his assistant asking her to bring Kal’s food and water as well as a burger for himself as well as a few other things. Laying her head back on the back of her couch, Lily closed her eyes and smiled.

“What?” Henry asked when he noticed her smile. Lily opened her eyes weakly.

“I could get used to this,” she said, glancing down at Kal then back to Henry. He smiled at her, one hand reaching out to stroke her hair.

“Me too,” he whispered back. Lily closed her eyes and smiled, feeling content.

[returnsandreturns]

WIP Amnesty: The Ultimate Drunk Married Fic That Never Was

Foggy’s TV is ancient, the same one that he lugged up the stairs on move in day for sophomore year, that sat quietly buzzing on his dresser. It made nice white noise when Foggy would mute what he was watching and read the captions so Matt could study in relative peace, only interrupted by Foggy stifling his laughter.

It takes about five minutes to turn on. Matt rests his hand on it dutifully when Foggy says, “Pray it’ll turn on, buddy. I’m pouring shots.”

“I will not take more than four,” Matt says.

“We’ll see,” Foggy says, skeptically.

“No more than seven,” Matt says, smiling over his shoulder when Foggy laughs. The TV comes on underneath his hand, the low murmur from the Supreme Court chamber filling up Foggy’s living room which now smells like pineapple rum.

Matt turns to brush his fingers carefully over the coffee table until they reach a shot glass, taking the shot and then coughing dramatically.

“Oh my god, I know, deal with it,” Foggy says, dryly. “I would have gotten something without artificial flavoring, but I already had this and we’re poor.”

“Maybe it gets better as you go,” Matt says, raising his eyebrows before he takes another shot, pulling a face afterwards. “Ugh.”

“Pace yourself, Murdock,” Foggy says, distractedly, finishing filling up shot glasses and moving them around the table. “Okay. Pizza’s coming any time. You’re gonna be drunk in like ten seconds—”

“Objection,” Matt says, contemplating another shot, but he is already feeling it.

“Dismissed,” Foggy says, laughing. “I think we’re settled, though. You ready to watch history unfold before my eyes and your—ears, I guess?”

“Nose,” Matt says, leaning into Foggy immediately when he sits down next to him. “Two shots, catch up with me.”

Foggy leans forward and takes two shots in a row, coughing at the end before he falls back again, saying, “Shit, okay. Let’s do this. Take a shot every time Scalia fills you with rage.”

“We might die,” Matt says.

“At least we’ll die together,” Foggy says.

*

They’re trashed by the time they hear the verdict; Matt’s on his side with his head in Foggy’s lap, originally for the purpose of keeping him there so he wouldn’t get the last slice of pizza but then it was nice, so he just kind of stayed. Foggy’s fingers are splayed partially in his hair and partially over his face.

Matt only hears it vaguely, sitting up and saying, “Did they just—” at the same time as Foggy says, “Holy shit, it happened,” and then there’s a long pause before they’re laughing and simultaneously trying to hug each other. Matt knows it’s simultaneous because they just kind of hit bodies before they figure things out, Foggy’s arms wrapped around him, Matt’s face smushed against his neck.

“This is so great—I mean, shit, it took way too long, but it happened,” Foggy says, into Matt’s hair. Matt feels kind of like the room is moving but also like he’s very centered, gravity-wise, pressed up against Foggy like this. He’s soaking it in when he realizes that Foggy’s still talking, saying, “We should—we should celebrate.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Matt asks, muffled against Foggy’s skin—Foggy’s heartbeat gets even faster, but he’s just excited.

“That was anticipation drinking,” Foggy says, letting of him so Matt raises his head.

“I cannot do celebratory drinking,” Matt says, thinking about how to say the word celebratory way too hard. Foggy pats his cheek. His hand is kind of sticky, but Matt doesn’t mind.

“Of course not,” Foggy says. “We have to do something bigger than that.”

Matt thinks for a second then smiles.

“We could get married,” he says.

It’s a joke. It’s totally a joke, just—he’s drunk enough that it’s possible there’s the slightest, smallest bit of truth there, because it’s legal everywhere and Matt loves Foggy and maybe sometimes, in the back of his head where he doesn’t go very often, he’s not exactly sure what kind of love it is.

“We,” Foggy says, seriously, “could get married.”

*

Matt wakes up in Foggy’s bed. He knows it’s Foggy’s bed because it smells exactly like him with a fresh linen scent underneath it and it’s soothing to Matt’s pounding head for about five seconds before he realizes that he’s in Foggy’s bed. They haven’t slept in the same bed since undergrad, like someone flipped a switch and they were suddenly too adult for it, and Matt’s pressed up against Foggy’s back with his arms around his waist.

He’s sliding away slowly, feeling like he’s been caught in the act, when Foggy starts awake then goes still.

“. . .Matt?” he asks.

Matt’s hands are on Foggy’s waist, stopped in the process of letting him go.

“Good morning,” Matt says, hoarsely. He lets go of Foggy and Foggy sits up slowly beside him.

“Oh god,” he says, gagging suddenly, hurrying out of the bed and to the bathroom. Matt groans and turns to bury his face in the pillow, hoping that the smell won’t linger too much even though he can already smell it.

He stays there until Foggy wanders back in.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Foggy asks, standing by the bed. His voice is strained and hoarse; Matt turns over so Foggy can see his pained face when he shakes his head.

“I remember the verdict,” he says, “and then we were outside for some reason.”

“Uhm, I—found the reason,” Foggy says. There’s the sound of crinkling paper and then Foggy’s sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, heart rabbiting. Matt sits up, reaching out to touch Foggy’s arm.

“What?” he asks. He feels like his head’s going to detach itself from his body.

“I apparently took your last name,” Foggy says, softly.

“. . .what?” Matt asks, again.

*

“Married,” Matt says, for what might be the fourteenth time.

“Yes, Matthew, our first instinct when we got wasted was to marry each other,” Foggy says. He’s possibly frustrated by the fact that Matt’s brain is still a little bit drunk and is taking a lot of time to catch up to this situation.

Matt’s sitting on the sofa, head tipped back towards the ceiling.

“Foggy Murdock,” he says.

“God, that sounds like a—really terrible drink,” Foggy says, despairingly. He hasn’t sat down yet, nervously pacing, the sound of bare feet on carpet crawling up Matt’s spine. “Or something involving golf. Doesn’t it remind you of golf?”

“I was thinking, like, Tolkien,” Matt says. His voice sounds very distant, even to himself. “The hobbits did not dare to travel into the Foggy Murdock.”

Foggy’s silent for a long moment before he swears under his breath and says, like he’s angry, “See, that’s why I married you, you nerd,” and finally sits down next to Matt, their legs pressed together.

Matt sits up more, turns his head towards Foggy.

“We can get an annulment,” he says. “It’s not even been 24 hours.”

“. . .what would drunk us do in this situation?” Foggy asks.

“Uhm,” Matt says, thinking for a minute before he says, “Get a mortgage, I guess.”

Foggy laughs, leaning more heavily into Matt, who shifts to better accommodate him. He wraps an arm around Foggy’s shoulder and tries to remember anything that happened last night past brief flashes that peek out of the blurry darkness in his head.

He wonders if they kissed.

“Can we go back to sleep first?” he asks, before Foggy can drag him to the courthouse to fix this. His head aches, and he just wants to wait. Foggy makes a soft noise that Matt has no idea how to translate.

“Yeah, buddy,” he says. “Let’s sleep.”

*

They don’t make it to the courthouse that day, sleep on and off curled up together like they did last night (“We’re married, it’s cool,” Matt said, when Foggy had hesitantly laid down next to him) until they finally get back up and stand in the kitchen arguing about what to have for dinner.

“Let’s just get delivery again,” Matt says. “I don’t want to eat your leftovers.”

“Too good for my leftovers,” Foggy says, airily. He’s making coffee, the pot sputtering and spitting.

“I’ll pay,” Matt says.

“You have no money,” Foggy says.

“I’ll—barter,” Matt says, and Foggy snorts.

“I’m not going to let you trade sexual favors for food,” he says. “I’ve got a box of spaghetti somewhere, how do you feel about that?”

Matt sighs but says, “Sure.”

Things have been tight, for lack of a word that more emphatically describes how little money they have, since they left L&Z and had to pick up temporary jobs to save up enough for their first office. Any day now, they’ll have enough, but in the meantime—spaghetti, probably without sauce.

“Get out of my kitchen,” Foggy says, but his voice is warm and makes Matt smile automatically, raising his hands when Foggy shoves him gently.

“Yes, dear,” he says.

The kitchen’s technically also the living room and every other room besides the bathroom and the renovated closet that Foggy calls a bedroom, so Matt can’t go far. He sits on the couch and listens to Foggy moving around.

Eventually, he sniffs the air and says, “More garlic,” and laughs when Foggy throws a dish cloth at him.

Living together always felt natural like this, once they learned each other. Moving into separate places felt necessary when they graduated—being real adults for the first time, making their own way even though they’re working to make sure they get to be together all the time. Also, Matt comes home with blood on his clothes in the middle of the night too often.

If he could tell Foggy that, though. He could be this person.

He could be married.

*

A few days later, Foggy shows up at his door and says, “I have a proposal for you.”

“Think it’s too late for that,” Matt says, but Foggy just lets out a shaky breath instead of laughing.

“Look,” he says, walking past Matt, who shuts the door and follows. “Why do you think we got married?”

“Rum,” Matt says.

“And?” Foggy asks.

“And. . .I don’t know. We love each other,” Matt says, trying to hide how he’s feeling, nervous and pained and hopeful somewhere underneath it all. “It’s friendship. Wires get crossed.”

Matt never really caught up to his memories of that night, but he has a feeling he might have been the one to push it. He should be the one to let Foggy back out.

“Right,” Foggy says, softly. “Right, of course. Wires.”

There’s a noteworthy silence before Matt asks, hesitant, “Why do you think we haven’t gotten an annulment yet?”

“. . .the paperwork,” Foggy says.

“Bureaucracy’s the worst,” Matt agrees.

“Also, I’ve been thinking about it,” Foggy continues, sinking down heavily on Matt’s couch, “and all of our assets are basically tied up together anyway? We could just—stay married for the tax benefits. As friends.”

Matt smiles.

“Okay,” he says, nodding.

“Okay?” Foggy repeats. “Just like that—okay?”

“Just like that,” Matt says.

[mobius-prime]

156. Sonic the Hedgehog #89

Thicker Than Water

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: FRY Colors: Frank Gagliardo

We have another misleading cover page today! Not as bad as the last issue's, but seriously, what's up with this lately? It's not just limited to this series or this era, necessarily - I distinctly remember a cover from the Archie Sonic X spinoff where Sonic was randomly tied up on top of an office-standard water cooler when nothing even remotely of the sort happened within the actual issue - but I don't know, it just bugs me a bit when it does happen. In this story, Sonic is not "besieged," nor does Sally yell accusations at him while holding a purse for no reason as depicted above - instead, as Dr. Quack wheels the injured King Max away for surgery, Sally simply tearfully asks Sonic how this happened.

Elias decides that he should be the one to talk to his sister, and as he races off after her, we hop over to Robotropolis, where Eggman has finally returned home from the Station Square fiasco only to find his science lab trashed. Of course, he immediately suspects that Sonic is behind this, and sets about reviewing security footage to determine exactly what happened while he was away. Meanwhile, back in Knothole, Geoffrey oversees the return of the Sword of Acorns to the royal reliquary while Rosie reassures Sonic that the way the battle went wasn’t his fault.

Oh, hey Mina! Still relegated to a bit part, I see. Elias finds Sally looking incredibly downcast and lost, sitting by herself on a dock next to a nearby pond, and sits next to her. She says that lately, she's felt like everything around her has been spiraling out of control, referring not just to Eggman, but the return of her own father as well.

I agree with Elias - it's obvious that King Max's decision to name Elias as his successor was fueled by his bitterness over Sally refusing his orders to join his cult and marry her arranged partner, not by an actual assessment of who was more fit to lead. Sally, upon hearing that Sonic was the one to rescue Elias, realizes she was wrong to put blame on him for leaving her father behind, and instead is overcome by a rush of gratitude to him for saving her brother. Sonic, however, is having a rougher time of things. His parents try to reassure him that he did the right thing, but he's more distracted by thoughts of his uncle, still unable to get it out of his mind how Chuck and Muttski regained their minds for a brief moment thanks to the Sword of Acorns. And he's not the only one thinking about the sword - Eggman, upon checking his security logs and learning what the sword did, orders his robots to find the weapon at once, wanting to have control over such a powerful artifact. Sonic's mother cooks her son some chili dogs to try to cheer him up, but all it does is make him lose himself in his thoughts about Uncle Chuck once again. Meanwhile, Mina, passing by and smelling the food, is reminded once again of her lost family, and makes a decision that she needs to stop moping and do something about her feelings soon. That night, Sonic makes a decision of his own, sneaking out of his house under the cover of dark and heading for the reliquary.

Oh, no, Sonic, don't make another stupid decision…

A royal guard calls urgently for Sally and Elias where they still sit by the pond, informing them the surgeries on their parents have been completed. They rush to the med-lab apprehensively, and find the king lying in his bed, tired but alive and well, holding onto the hand of a sleeping Alicia in the bed next to him. She's pulled through, and as they watch she begins to awaken.

And as the whole family is finally happily reunited, with tearful joy, Sonic races out of Knothole with the stolen sword in hand, unaware that a shadowy figure watches him from behind a tree…

A Matter of Self Interest

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Frank Gagliardo

Knuckles has decided to lead his group across the waters to Albion by boat this time, instead of channeling his inner Jesus. Whilst they row towards the island city, Rob updates Bunnie, Antoine and Amy on his and Knuckles' adventures here last time, ending with him questioning why Knuckles didn't decide to stay in Albion with the rest of his fellows. It's revealed then that Gala-Na, the echidna who welcomed the group in the past, has been watching their approach on a screen along with several council members, including our old pal Yanar. They have a discussion amongst themselves that reveals that Rob has been the liaison between their city and the rest of the world for some time now, and that they are currently keeping an unspecified stranger in their midst which makes them wary, a stranger who resembles Antoine greatly…

Knuckles and the others finally reach Albion's shore, and as Knuckles ties up the boat and leads the others toward the city, Rob and Antoine carry on a conversation about how the last time Rob fought the High Sheriff, he lost him in the chaos and doesn’t know if he's still alive, something which naturally leaves Antoine feeling less than reassured. A familiar sight greets Knuckles as he approaches the city - once again, Gala-Na has arrived to welcome him in. (She's also mistakenly colored red for several of these next issues, even though she was originally purple.)

Gala-Na leads everyone to their quarters for the night, intending to let everyone have a good night's sleep before they begin to investigate the High Sheriff and the disappearance of the Floating Island. However, Knuckles is still very perturbed by the events of the past few days and sits on his balcony, unable to sleep. Yanar, watching him from the monitors in the council's chambers (seriously, what is it with echidna councils and spying on people through hidden cameras all over the place?), decides to go and visit him to explain what's really going on. He reveals that Albion knew what had happened to the Floating Island as soon as it occurred, leaving Knuckles outraged that they didn't offer their help before now despite the event happening not even 24 hours ago. You literally got to them faster than they could get to you, Knuckles, what more do you want? Yanar deflects Knuckles' blame and instead brings him to a lab nearby, where Knuckles is shocked to see…

Excellent timing, High Sheriff! Knuckles prepares to face off against Antoine's father, but suddenly a massive explosion rocks the complex, shaking awake his other four companions in a panic off in their respective rooms. Oh boy…

[myhauntedsalem]

The Boogeyman of Baltimore 1951

The summer of 1951 was a weird time in the city of Baltimore. The city sweltered under a heat wave and only the wealthiest residents of the region could afford air conditioners at the time. And there were no air conditioners to be found in O’Donnell Heights, a housing project on the southwest side of the city. This was a place where steel mill and shipyard workers lived with their families. For those folks, though, the steamy heat was less of a worry than the specter that was stalking their streets.

At some point in July, a tall, thin figure, dressed all in black, began sprinting across the rooftops of O’Donnell Heights. It leaps on and off buildings, broke into houses, attacked people, enticed a young girl to crawl under a car and played music in the nearby graveyard. Groups of young men patrolled the streets, while others waited by their windows at night, keeping a sleepy watch for the “Phantom Prowler” that eluded his pursuers and vanished into the cemetery before he could be caught. By the end of the month, police were arresting people for disorderly conduct and carrying weapons, but the phantom had disappeared and was never seen again. What in the hell happened in O’Donnell Heights in the summer of 1951? To this day, no one knows.

O’Donnell Heights was only eight years old when the mysterious stranger began making his appearances. Built as a housing project for defense industry workers at Bethlehem Steel, Martin Aircraft and Edgewood Arsenal during World War II, it was never meant to be either durable or attractive. Tightly-spaced, two–story row houses went up on sixty-six acres of what used to be farmland, a brickyard that belonged to the Baltimore Brick Co. and part of St. Stanislaus Kostka Cemetery, one of several graveyards in the immediate area. The others included Evangelical Trinity Lutheran Congregational, Mount Carmel, St. Matthew’s and Oheb Shalom Congregation Cemetery, but the phantom would show an affinity for St. Stanislaus and often appeared nearby.

By the time that the local newspapers realized that something very strange was happening in the Heights, the panic was almost over. Most of the stories that remain today come from the back pages of the Baltimore Sun and Evening Sun, which printed a handful of articles between July 25 and July 27, when the sightings came to an end. Reporters approached it as a “tongue in cheek” story with cartoon illustrations. No one seemed to know when the events had started, but on July 24, Agnes Martin told a reporter that the phantom had been seen for “at least two or three weeks.”

The first definite date discovered by researcher Robert Damon Schneck was on July 19, although the figure had undoubtedly been seen a number of times prior to that. On this date, though, there was a full moon and nighttime temperatures were in the 70’s. It was around 1:00 a.m. when William Buskirk, 20, ran into the phantom. He reported, “I was walking along the 1100 block of Travers Way with several buddies when I saw him on a roof. He jumped off the roof and we chased him into the graveyard…”

One of the other boys interviewed with Buskirk stated that, “he sure is an athlete. You should have seen him go over that fence – just like a cat.” The fence that surrounded the cemetery was six feet in height and trimmed with barbed wire around the top. According to the witnesses, the figure in black had leapt over it with ease.

Hazel Jenkins claimed that the phantom grabbed her some time the same week. She saw it twice at close-range and may have been attacked when the figure tried to break into the Jenkins home but her brother, Randolph, saw it soon after. He told a reporter, “I saw him two nights after he tried to break into our house… He was just beginning to climb up on the roof of the Community Building. We chased him all the way to Graveyard Hell.”

The phantom next visited the family of Melvin Hensler, breaking into their house on July 20, but stealing nothing. After this unnerving experience, the family went to stay with Mr. Hensler’s brother, but Mrs. Hensler returned to the house the next day and found “a potato bag left on the ironing board,” which she was convinced belonged to the intruder. Mr. Hensler was so exhausted from staying awake that his eyes ached and he had started talking in his sleep.

Storms on July 23 lowered the temperatures, but had no effect on the phantom. In fact, on July 24, he was especially active. Newspapers reported, “At 11:30 p.m. officers Robert Clark and Edward Powell were called to the O’Donnell Heights area where they were greeted by some 200 people who said that had seen the oft-reported ‘phantom.’ Clark said that they pointed to the rooftops and someone yelled: ‘The phantom’s there!’” The police drove around and arrested a twenty-year-old sailor carrying a hammer. He was fined $5.

A reporter from the Sun found thirty of forty people waiting around the back stoop of a house on Gusryan Street, waiting for the sun to come up. One of them, Charles Pittinger, had armed himself with a shotgun. He interviewed several of them, who passed along rumors and told of their own experiences. Some of them claimed the phantom lived in the graveyard and a woman who lived on Wellsbach Way, adjacent to St.

Stanislaus, suggested that the phantom was doing more than jumping fences and breaking into houses: “One night I heard someone playing the organ in that chapel up there. It was about 1 o’clock.”

The phantom was also reportedly seen beckoning to Esther Martin from underneath an automobile, saying, “Come here, little girl.”

The consensus of the crowd was that the phantom easily leaped from two-story buildings, flew over fences and was a general nuisance in the neighborhood. A man named George Cook admitted having mixed feelings about what was happening. He did not deny the reports of the phantom, just the possibility that something extraordinary was involved. In the end, he blamed the media. “It’s ridiculous to believe that a man can jump from a height and not leave a mark on the ground. Yet this character does it all the time. It’s my idea that when this thing is cleared up… it’ll turn out to be one of these young hoodlums who has got the idea from the movies or the so-called funny papers, and is trying to act it out. This sort of thing appeals to detective story readers who are mainly looking for excitement.”

Meanwhile, the police were busy ignoring the phantom and rounding up the “usual suspects.” On the morning of July 25, they arrested four boys on disorderly conduct charges at an unidentified cemetery. Around 10:00 p.m. that same night, officers arrested three boys on an embankment near the cemetery. Their six companions, all on the lookout for the phantom, fled the scene. An hour later, the police responded to a call from a resident who heard footsteps on his roof, but nothing was found. At some point the next day, Mrs. Mildred Gaines heard the sound of someone trying to break into her house and ran outside barefoot screaming, “It’s the phantom!” It was actually the police breaking down the door to serve a search warrant on the premises. Mrs. Gaines and four male companions were arrested on bookmaking charges.

By this time, the newspaper coverage – which had started off with reporters as baffled as the residents of O’Donnell Heights – turned humorous. The stories poked fun at the sightings, reported pranks by neighbors pretending to be the phantom, and carried a story about a phantom sighting on a rooftop that turned out to be a ventilation pipe. On July 27, the Evening Sun announced there were no more reports and that, “Police think it might be a teenager.” The phantom was gone, but the heat was back, with high humidity and temperatures in the middle 90’s.

Like most bizarre “flaps” of this type, there was no satisfying resolution to the panic created by the Phantom of O’Donnell Heights. An unofficial version claimed that residents finally chased it into the cemetery, where the phantom jumped into a crypt and vanished for good.

No one can say who, or what, this figure may have been, although based on the sheer number of sightings, something weird was happening in the neighborhood. Descriptions of the phantom were fairly consistent, considering that that the encounters were brief, took place in the dark, and he was usually moving at a good clip. William Buskirk said, “He was a tall thin man dressed all in black. It looked like he had a cape around him.”

The only one who mentioned the phantom’s face was witness Myrtle Ellen, who said it was horrible. She also agreed about the dark costume. The newspapers described the phantom as “black robed,” suggesting long, loose-flowing clothes. Mrs. Melvin Hensler, discoverer of the discarded potato sack, saw the phantom three times and said that during one sighting, it looked as though he had a hump on his back.

Theories abound about the “Horror of the Heights.” Sociologists have described the events in O’Donnell Heights as an example of an “imaginary community threat,” suggesting that the 900 families living there experienced some type of mass hysteria, whipped up by rumors and the media. It’s true that misconceptions undoubtedly played a part in the events, but they don’t explain the relatively straightforward experiences described by William Buskirk and other witnesses. The police never denied that people were seeing something but, like George Cook, thought it would turn out to be a “young hoodlum.” But if it was, he was never caught, exposed or confessed.

It’s also hard to accept that the newspapers played a part in creating any hysteria. The two local papers ran only six articles on the phantom, two of them mere fillers, and they were printed as the sensation was coming to an end. The only one that might be called “sensationalistic” ran on July 25 and included the experiences of a number of witnesses. However, it ended on a sober note: “The question of the prowler of O’Donnell Heights continued to be not one of the phantoms, but of people reacting to (and possibly creating) the unknown with their imaginations.”

Some have taken the phantom’s affinity for St. Stanislaus as evidence that it was an actual ghost. Part of O’Donnell Heights was built on land that once belonged to the cemetery, which contains a great many unmarked graves from the influenza epidemic of 1918. Also, bodies were exhumed and reinterred when Boston Street was extended in the 1930s, but it’s hard to see how this would stir up a spirit in July 1951.

There has also been the suggestion that the phantom was some sort of mysterious entity like the “Mothman” of West Virginia or the “Mad Gasser of Mattoon,” which plagued a small town in Illinois in 1944.

Whatever it was, it remains a mystery and one that – like far too many others – will simply never be solved.

[jae-sch-writes]

Help Me

Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Reader, Scott McCall, Unnamed OMC, other pack members (mentioned)

Word Count: 1,626 (oh my goodness, that is a lot more than usual)

Genre: flangst (but definitely more angsty and fluffy)

Summary: When the Reader decides to run off and not tell anyone, Stiles is determined to get her back. When he finds out why she did what she did, Stiles vows to help her, no matter what it takes.

Warnings: mentions of vomit, mentions of anxiety, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, tears, feels

A/N: Once again, I managed to make Els mad at me, but my last piece was fluff, so naturally, I had to resort back to my angsty writing (regression toward the mean, ya know?) Edited by Grammarly, but any and all mistakes are my own and no one is to blame for them but me, myself, and I.

"Dude, do you know what's going on with Y/N? This is the third morning in a row that she's texted me saying not to pick her up for school," Stiles said as he and Scott walked into the school.

"I don't know, Stiles. Isn't she your girlfriend?" 

"I mean, yeah, but couldn't you use your hormone-smelling werewolf nose or something?"

"Can't really do that if Y/N isn't here, now can I?"

"Yeah, I guess not. Hey, maybe we can go to her house after school. She told me not to come over because she's really sick, and I was stupid and listened to her. Now I just think that something’s wrong. I mean, remember last year when she came to school with a fever and then she threw up in history and then tried to convince the nurse to let her go back to class. It's just not like her to miss three days of school in a row. She didn't even ask me to get her homework and bring it to her! I mean, I know she doesn't want me to come over and see her and get sick, but I could at least drop it off and see how she's-"

"Stiles,” Scott cut him off, “you're rambling.”

"Sorry, but you get my point. Something is definitely not right with Y/N."

"Hey, we'll just swing by later and make sure everything’s okay. I'm sure Y/N's fine."

Scott's reassurances throughout the day did nothing to ease Stiles' anxiety over the situation. And he had to wait until 3:10 for the feeling to go away

After school that day, Stiles and Scott drove to Y/N's house, but instead of her, her brother answered the door.

"Hey, Stiles. What's up, man?"

"Is Y/N here? She texted me this morning saying she was sick for the third day in a row."

"No, she told me she was staying with you for the next couple of days so I never thought anything of her not being here."

"Okay, well, then we have a problem because that means that neither of us has seen her in three days..."

Stiles was beginning to panic. Y/N's brother called the Sheriff and he put out an APB for her. The Sheriff’s department was looking for her and Scott’s mind was already putting a plan together to find the pack’s friend.

"Stiles, she'll be okay. We'll find her. I've got her scent and I'm sure Liam and Malia will be more than willing to help, too."

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles rasped between heavy breaths, “she’ll be fine. She has to be. Scott, we have to find her. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.”

“Stiles, we’ll find her. I promise. We’ll get her back.”

Scott, Stiles, Malia, Kira, and Liam all spent the rest of the day searching for Y/N. It was clear that she didn’t want to be found, or the four supernatural teenagers and the one with great investigatory skills would have found her by the time the sun went down.

Stiles was going crazy. It was 10:43 at night and he had no clue as to where his girlfriend could possibly be. The pack had checked with Deaton at the animal clinic, the school, your favorite places, and even the hospital to see if Melissa knew anything, but no one was able to find you.

“Stiles, go home, get some rest,” Scott said eventually. “You won’t be able to help if you’re all worked up.”

“No, I have to stay. We need to find her. I need to find her,” Stiles said as walked even faster through town.

“No, Stiles. I’m telling you. Just go home for a couple of hours. Get some rest. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“Fine,” Stiles said hesitantly, “I’ll go. But don’t think that I won’t still be trying to come up of places where Y/N could be.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

After Stiles left, Scott continued to look in town while Malia and Liam went out into the woods. Except, Scott could smell Stiles even after he left, but it wasn’t quite, full-on Stiles Stilinski. So Scott followed the scent.

When Scott reached the place where “Stiles’” scent was originating from, he was confused. It was the school. They had already checked the school and they didn’t find her there.

Scott continued to follow the scent and it led him to the lacrosse field where he found Y/N huddled under the bleachers.

“Y/N!” Scott exclaimed when he caught sight of the missing girl wearing one of Stiles’ sweatshirts. “Oh my god, you’re okay. We’ve been worried sick about you!”

“Why would you be worried about me?” Her voice was hoarse like she had been crying for hours.

“Because you’re our friend, family even. Of course, we would be worried about you.”

“But you have bigger and better things to worry about than where I am.”

“No, we don’t. You’re our first priority. Now come on, Stiles’ been freaking out since he found out you ran off without telling anyone.”

“Y/N?” Stiles asked when she and Scott reached the front door of the Stilinski household. “Thank God you’re okay!”

Stiles pulled Y/N into a bone-crushing hug. She was shaking from the brisk air and clinging to Stiles like he was her life-support. Like he was her only reason to keep breathing.

“Come on, let’s get you inside. You’re shivering,” Stiles said as he pulled her inside the house. He never wanted to let go of her, he was afraid that if he did, something even worse would happen to her.

Stiles sat on the couch and pulled Y/N to sit next to him and he held her to his side.

“Why did you run away, Y/N? We were all scared something happened to you.” Scott crouched in front of Y/N and spoke in a soft voice. Not one that would you speak in if you were speaking to a little kid, but one full of concern for his friend.

“You guys don’t need me. I’m not part of the supernatural and I’m not good at solving things like Stiles is. I’m just kinda…” Y/N paused like she was looking for the right word. “... useless.”

“Hey, no, don’t say that,” Stiles said as he held her closer and tighter. “You are not useless. You never were, and you never will be. I don’t want to hear those words come from anyone, especially from you.”

“But it’s true, okay? Sometimes, I lie awake at night and wonder why I’m even still here. I ran because I felt like I needed to, for your guys’ sake. I took Stiles’ sweatshirt to make it harder to find me. I kept moving around to try to throw you off the trail. You guys are smart, and I’m just… me.”

Y/N started to cry and she curled herself into Stiles’ side. Neither Scott nor Stiles and ever seen anyone feel more broken than she did right now.

“Hey, look at me,” Scott said, which made Y/N look up at him and he grabbed her hand. “You may not be a part of the supernatural, but neither is Stiles, but both of you are still a part of the pack, and it’s a pack’s job to take care of its members. You’re family, Y/N, and nothing can or ever will change that.” Scott gave Y/N a small smile before saying, “Stay here with Stiles and get some rest, okay? I’ll let everyone else know where you are and that you’re safe.”

“Thanks, Scott. I’ll make sure she sleeps. See ya, tomorrow,” Stiles said and Y/N nodded her head to Scott to let him know that she would be okay before he left.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Stiles helped Y/N up off the couch and put his arm around her and laced his fingers with her own. He didn’t want to let her go, not after what just happened.

He gave Y/N a pair of his sweatpants and another one of his sweatshirts to change into before getting ready for bed himself. Then the couple crawled climbed into Stiles’ bed before he wrapped his arms around her.

The two of them lied there in silence until Stiles spoke up. “Did you really mean what you said? That sometimes you wonder why you’re still in Beacon Hills?”

“It’s not just here as in a location, Stiles,” she whispered. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m even still alive. Why I’m even bothering to continue breathing. And I can’t take it anymore, Stiles. I just can’t!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles said softly. “I’ll help you, okay? We all will. I promise. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Stiles, you can’t save me from me.”

“I can and I will. Even if it means staying with you 24/7. I will help you, no matter what it takes. I swear on my life…” Stiles had tears running down his face. “... I will help you. I can’t have anything happen to you, Y/N. I love you too much to let anything bad happen to you.”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Okay, Stiles. I want you- no, need you to help me. Please, Stiles. Help me get better.”

“I will, but for now, let’s just get some sleep. It’s been a long day and I just want to keep you near me.”

“And you can. I love you, Stiles.”

“I love you, too, Y/N,” Stiles said before pressing a kiss to her head and the two of them drifted off to sleep, each in the other's arms.

[irepookie]

Infinity Chapter 5: IT CAN'T BE LIKE THIS FOREVER

Summary: QUEEN AU where Roger Taylor (aka Rowan Queen) is a young single dad struggling to make it into music industry.

Warnings: not really. Just fluff, sappiness and swear words here and there

Disclaimer: I don't own the pictures. The boys are based on Queen, but Piper, Gina and Callie are mine.

Chapter 5: Basically Row's and Piper's first day on their own, narrative shifting from normal to Row's inner train of thought.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Throughout his life, Row would regularly look back with infinite fondness and amusement at the first day he spent on his own with his daughter.

But today, as both him and his week old infant cried in each other's ears, he didn't think either of them would make it through another 24 hours, let alone long enough to look back and laugh at it.

He thought he wouldn't get to the end of the parenting book he was with at the moment with his sanity intact.

He had read many books that contradicted each other. And this one was no exception.

Some said to follow a feeding schedule.

Others to do so whenever she'd demanded it.

Some said that bathing was bad for the umbilical cord.

Some others recommend to rub it with alcohol to help it fall early.

And others said not to touch it. To simply leave it alone.

Then there was Callie and her usual phrase echoing on his head "The best thing is to follow your instincts".

But that didn't help a damn either cause his instinct was messed up.

He had also read somewhere that sharing bed was good at the beginning. That it helped preventing SIDS.

Then on the next book, that sharing room was fine at first, but that bed was a risk factor in SIDS.

But hold on.

What the hell was SIDS?

They mentioned it everywhere. He went through all the pages until he found it, only to be left breathless when finding out what what it stood for:

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

Whose exact cause was still unknown , and although there were some preventive stuff to do -on which, by the way, all the bloody books differed- there was nothing 100% safe.

So, they meant his little Piper could just fucking die for no goddamn reason, and he wouldn't be able to do nothing about it? What the fuck! It wasn't fair!

So he found himself on the phone, dialing the number he always recurred to in times of trouble.

"I think I broke her, mom" he said as soon as he heard her pick up.

"You can't break a person, Row"

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

"Don't be overdramatic. You didn't expect it to be easy, did ya? Or you thought she was gonna be like a doll, huh? Like those that have a switch for when you get tired of playing house?"

"No but I didn't think... I mean she was much quieter in the hospital."

"Well, darling, she must have sensed the move or something."

"You mean she doesn't like my place?"

"No, you silly. Although there's room for improvement in the style... But that's not the point. She just needs time to get used to it. Also I bet she can sense your unease."

"Uh?"

"Babies have this sixth sense when it comes to the emotions of those around them. Specially mother's... Or well, in this case, you. So if she senses you're frustrated, she'll get more distressed."

"Oh." was all he could say.

"Where is she now?"

"She's right..." He looked down at the bundle he had been holding and rocking only to realize it was a bunch of dirty clothes.

Where was she? Had he lost his daughter after 5 hours? Fuck! Fucking idiot

For a moment, he forgot where he had put her and a million terrifying thoughts flashed on his head.

She wasn't crying at the moment.

And that was good.

Right?

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was the worst thing.

Maybe one of the pillows on the sofa had fallen over her and suffocated her.

Or maybe he had mistaken her for a dirty bundle of clothes and put her in the laundry and...

"Rowan?"

"She's asleep on the bed." He suddenly remembered, peering at his bedroom to check he was right. He was. She was asleep, right in the middle of the mattress, exactly where he had placed her 10 minutes earlier.

"Then take this chance and sleep. You're good at sleeping."

It was definitely a good idea. So he hung up and tiptoed to the bedroom. He reached the bed and froze, trying to think of a way of climbing in without startling her awake.

Maybe the matress sinking at his weight woke her up. And if he got past that, perhaps if he dared to move or rolled in his sleep, he'd wake her up... Or worst; he had heard about the hundreds of kids that died overnight suffocated by their parents.

No. He decided he couldn't sleep with her.

So he got the bunch of dirty clothes and laid on the floor besides the bed, using the bundle as a pillow. He fell right off to sleep.

He woke up four hours later, and the room was still silent.

Shouldn't she need something? Shouldn't she have woken me up?

Once again, a feeling of fear invaded him as he jumped to his feet, and put a small mirror in front of her nose to make sure she was still breathing.

She was.

He sighed with relief and pecked her forehead before tiptoeing out.

He decided to make a sandwich or something, cause his stomach was roaring. Halfway through eating it, he ran his eyes through the parenting book he had left opened on the counter:

<<If your baby sleeps 4 straight hours or more wake them up for a feed; otherwise they could become dihydrated...>>

Fuck. She had been dozing for 4 hours and 20 minutes.

So he hurried into the bedroom, and leaned over the tiny bundle, a smile escaping his lips. She did know how to sleep after all. And she looked like an angel. So peaceful. Calm. It almost hurt him to disturb her. But he had to.

"Hey lil'raisin. C'mon, it's snack time" he said, gently lifting her up. "Hey, lovie. Wake up" he knew one thing he shouldn't do under any circumstances: shake her. Or make harsh movements. As that would lead to Major Danger #2:

Shaken Baby Syndrome. And that was under his control.

So he blew on her cheek instead and got her to open her eyes "Hey, Sleeping Gorgeous" he greeted, holding her up so they were face to face.

She looked up at him, directly into his eyes and something inside him melted.  

Perhaps she had finally settled. Maybe now they were both fresh and rested she'd go easy on him. He could do this.

But then her face scrunched up and she whined.

"Oh no, no, no, baby, what is it? Don't cry. Don't cry. C'mon." Then he felt a warm liquid on his hand. "Okay, okay, message received. Let's do this"

He got a towel and unswaddled her, hoping he'd be able to remember how it was done afterwards and praying for it only being number one. It was, but he hadn't folded the nappy correctly and it had leaked all over the onesie, the blanket and... His duvet.  Goddamn it.

He sighed. If he kept calm, she'd sense it. "Okay, me darl. Shh. Hold on a second.  Where... Where've I left the nappies? Where?" He looked around the room but no sight of the pack. Shit. Last time he had changed her in the living room? So it had to be there. "Okay, hang on a minute sweets. I'll be right back" he ran out to get the pack, as the wailing got louder.

"Alright. Alright. I've got it, I've got it. I'm here. Hush" he managed to do it surprisingly fast and without new incidents. "Alright, alright. Almost done. C'mere." He lifted her up, checking the nappy was properly sealed, and went to the kitchen area where he had left the last clean onesie.

On his way, he found the pinky he had been looking for earlier as well "Hey look at this. Here it was." he washed it with water and put it in her open mouth. She began to suck instinctively, calming down.

Thank. Fucking. Goodness.

He sighed in relief.

He could do this.

He laid her down in the kitchen counter, so he could wash his hands, throw his wee stained t-shirt to the washer and unfold the onesie. She squirmed a little, but kept quiet.

"Alright, let's put this on you. Please don't squirm too much, darling. I don't want to hurt you." he pleaded.

"Okay, it's all done" he announced 10 minutes later, when he finally managed to button up all the miniscule buttons on the onesie. Bloody miniscule buttons made for small mothers' hands.

"What's next? Oh yes, bottle. Alright. Coming right up"

Just when he had put the bottle to warm up, she spit the pinky, and began fussing. "Hey, love , here" he put it back, but she spit again. "You ain't buying it, are you? You're hungry, and the pinky isn't fooling you." He chuckled "Clever girl. Alright, it's almost done so don't worry, okay? It's almost there" he took her back into his arms, and paced around until the microwave beeped.

He made a mental note to never again waking her up before the bottle was done.

Never again.

"Okay Princess. Here's your cocktail, made with love." he announced, as he carried her to the couch and sat down, propping her up and watching as she immediately sucked into the nipple, face relaxing instantly.

"Yea, you were hungry right? That's what happens when you sleep through lunch time. I hope you've learned your lesson, and that next time, you let me know alright?" He grinned, as a hand closed around his hair.

But she suddenly pulled away from the nipple and began to  fuss again, halfway through the bottle "What? That's all? You're done? So much impatience for half a bottle? No, you've gotta keep going. C'mon" he offered the nipple, and she rejected it, hand pulling his hair

"Ow! Ow! Pips, no honey. Let go. C'mon. C'mon dear, let go." he set the bottle aside and used his free hand to untangle hers from his hair. She cried louder. "Hey, okay, okay, you can pull my hair off if you keep quiet. Uh? Deal?" He got more cries in response. His face fell.

"But you never did this in hospital. You didn't give Daddy hell like this. Why now? Why do you do this when I'm all alone? Am I such a bad dad? I mean I'm following every step. I'm doing my best. Please give me a break" he pleaded, changing her to an upright position.

He was doing nothing wrong, was he? He was doing everything just like he had been taught in hospital.

Well except maybe...

He had an idea and laid her on the couch "Alright, shhh. Let's try this one" he said, unbuttoning her onesie again, -making a mental note to ask Len if he could get him some bigger ones that wouldn't take forever to deal with- and bringing her back to his chest. She instinctively snuggled up, and quieted within seconds at the contact of both their skins.

And he didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. "So you just wanted this? Well you should've said so earlier." He did both, out of amusement and relief.

Fuck he had cried more these past 7 hours than in the entire last decade. It was ridiculous, really. That someone so little could have such a big effect on him.

"So, where were we hon?" He offered the bottle and this time she did latch, body glued to his, and grey piercing eyes looking right through him, as if she was staring at his soul, as if she was reminding him why he was doing all this. And all the  worries that had crowed him until that moment, just disappeared.

I can do this.

He didn't detach her from his chest for the rest of the day, as that seemed to keep her at peace and he didn't mind it. Rather enjoyed it.

So he changed his peed sheets and threw the nappy away, made himself some coffee and broke the mug in the process, as he struggled to do the whole thing with one hand. Then he had to pick it up and cut himself off with one of the shattered pieces.  However, he didn't mind: it was worth it as long as she remained undisturbed.

"Are you two better?" Mom asked when she called in the evening.

"Yes, yes. We're... We're alright. Got the ultimate trick. I think we came to an understanding."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Where is she, by the way?"

"Right here." he pressed his lips on the top of her head, rested on his shoulder.

"Has she eaten properly?'

"Aye. Then spat some of it on me and... Yea. I think she's good." she had finished both bottles fairly quickly.

"And you? How are you eating?"

"Managed to eat half a sandwich. So not too bad."

"Finish it."

"I'm fine, mother."

"Row by neglecting yourself you're putting her in danger too. So eat properly and stay sane for the sake of you both, okay?"

He sighed. "Alright. I'll finish the stupid sandwich."

"And eat some food or whatever. Vitamins."

"Shit, this is like being 10 again."

They hung up and Row did as told, in spite of himself. Mom had a point.

So he finished the sandwich and grabbed an apple, eating it in bites, chewing it slowly and as silently as possible so he wouldn't disturb his daughter.

Damn it was cold. He'd have to turn the heat on, which he never did cause the bill afterwards was terrifying. But hell, both of them were half naked in February. And he had already spent a fortune on that prune sized person, might as well keep her alive and warm.

Then he laid down with her cuddled on his bare chest as she breathed in uneven, scary patterns, which Callie had told him were normal.

And soon, he found they were breathing in sync, every breath he took was three of hers. Or 5. Or none.

But it was normal, he reminded himself. Her breathing system has to develop still. She's fine.

He was exhausted, but completely wakeful at the same time, cause he was hypnotized by the sight of his little sleeping prune.

Like he would be countless nights in the future.

Because there was no better remedy for panic, no better way to put his thoughts in order and make him feel the strongest, happiest man on Earth than the sight of his daughter sleeping.

🥁🥁🥁🥁

As always, a big Heya to my only reader friend, @definitely-darcy. As you know I'm nervous about this chapter, but I enjoyed writing it a lot. So I hope you like It.

Xx ~Pookie