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underground-secret · 4 months

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The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean

Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is haunted by a vision of a woman trapped in his childhood house

Warning: cannon violence, tension/ minor flirting, slight angst and comfort, mentions of death, mentions of a dead parent, the use of witchcraft that isn't exactly apart of Supernatural lore but does have ties to many folklore's interpretations of a witches capability from European Folklore to Appalachian Folk Magic and many more (i used a mix of different lore to create my own interpretation) this took so long to research, l also was testing things out in my apartment so i'd be able to write it properly- literally rearranging furniture for it

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld ,

@okayiamkassandra, @fablerose , @ada--44

Word Count: 12,947

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(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch.)

I stumble into the boys motel room, stifling a yawn from passing through my lips. Did I wake up two hours ago and refuse to get out of the stiff motel bed instead of coming to meet my lovely friends in their room?

Yes!

“Good morning my little stabby hunters” I greet cheerfully, closing and locking the door behind me. Sam mumbles some incoherent version of a greeting from where he sat on his bed while Dean looks up from Sam’s laptop, “Mornin’ sweetheart”

I walk up to each boy individually giving their hair a nice ruffle before shuffling my way to sit criss-cross applesauce on the unoccupied bed. “You had perfect timing ‘cause I think I found a few candidates for our next gig.”

“Oooh how fun” I half sarcastically say, “read ‘em out!”

“Alright we got a fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali” I nod pretending to know what a ‘trawler’ is, “ –-its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Dean lists out looking up every now and then for a reaction, “Hey. Sammy.” He calls out to his brother who’s sat drawing something on a little notepad.

Sam looks up, giving Dean an annoyed look waiting for what he has to say. Dean leans back in his chair, “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.” Sam declares, going right back to his drawing. He was in fact not paying attention.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” He stops speaking again, waving his hand in the air intended to get his brother's attention, “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam suddenly sits up fully, “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” I ask, Dean and I sharing a confused look. But Sam doesn't answer, he just crosses the room towards his duffel bag, searching for something. “What are you doing?” Dean asks. Again Sam doesn't answer, finally finding whatever he was looking for he pauses studying the two things in his hands, he swiftly turns around “I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean muses, asking the question were both thinking.

“Back home –- back to Kansas” Sam breathes, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

Sam shows the thing he took out of his bag, a photo, to his brother, I get up to view it too. “All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?” Sam asks, looking between the sort of family photo taken in front of their house and his brother.

“Yeah.” Dean answers plainly.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” Sam asks further.

“Yeah it took ‘em a while to, I think it was mostly out of respect because no one ever moved in after you either, as far as I know.” I answer only knowing because I lived in town even after they moved away.

“Okay, well, someone lives there now…and, I, uh, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger.” Sam stammers

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks the obvious question. “Uh…it’s just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?” He starts to walk away to the other side of the room, Dean following suit, “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”

The fighting begins, I think to myself as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I knew Dean would probably act harsher then he meant to, his mom—his old house being a very rough topic for him.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to answer simply, “Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that.” Dean raises his voice slightly.

“I can’t really explain it is all” Sam says looking around the room instead of making eye contact.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do” Dean crosses his arms waiting expectantly.

Sam sighs, “I have these nightmares.”

“I’ve noticed” Dean says while nodding and I want to step in and lecture him for coming off so mean, but I bite my tongue.

“And sometimes…” Sam pauses for a while before continuing, “…they come true.” This time I don’t bite my tongue, the word slipping out of my lips out of pure shock, “Sam” I gasp. “Come again?” Dean says almost at the same time as my gasp.

“Look….I dreamt about Jessica’s death –- for days before it happened.” Sam tries to explain further, nearly getting cut off by his brother, “Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” I know Dean doesn't want to believe it, I know he’s scared of what this could mean. But I can’t help but feel this is like the argument Dean had started on my twelfth birthday, all those years ago. It felt especially silly to feel this way now, not when I never held a grudge against him because of it. Maybe I should have but I could never find it within myself to do so.

Dean sits down on one of the beds and it’s clear he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sam begins to explain himself more, which I hate the fact he has to, “No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t know.” Dean huffs out. It’s clear he’s overwhelmed, which is a significantly better reaction than what I got to his whole realization of what I really was—a witch—despite the fact he already knew that. I want to respect their relationship and not speak when it’s not my right to, and yet if it comes down to it I know I will. I won’t let their relationship fall apart because of this, I won’t let a hatred form between them. Let alone like how Dean had hated me for months and I had hated myself too.

“I-it can mean something. There's a lot of cultures that believe that dreams are capable of showing the future as a guidance or even as a warning. Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks, they all believed in this; it's,um, called oneiromancy.” I pipe in quietly as if scared that saying it too loud would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Sam was looking at me with big eyes like he was hanging on to each word I spoke, nodding along.

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” Dean stands abruptly beginning to pace the carpeted floor, “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” Sam asks carefully.

Dean sounds on the verge of tears, probably the most vulnerable he’s been in a long time, “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?” The air, the atmosphere itself, felt fragile then too as if something so palpable had to be careful of where it stood

Sam begins softly, his eyes scrunched in a mix of worry and sympathy, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

“I know we do.” Dean nods, his head hung low.

The Impala pulls up in front of the old Winchester house, the cute little two story green house standing there simply. I can’t help but wonder if in a hundred years these people who lived in Lawrence would know what happened here? The family that was lost here? Maybe not physically but you can trace everything back to this simple house, where these boys lost a piece of themselves no matter how young they were. You can still feel it in the air now, in this car with Dean's head hung low as he peers up at his old house, the only and last house he’s ever had.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asks, trying to catch his brother's eyes. Dean swallow’s thickly, “Let me get back to you on that.” We exit the safety of the car and with each step forward the weight of this settles on our shoulders, the realness of this all. I know this isn’t about me, but if I let my mind stop focusing on the task at hand I know that it will wisp away to my old house. Just on the other side of town, to every moment I spent wandering the streets with no where particular in mind-

A sharp knocking on the front door snaps me out of my mind. A pretty blonde opens the door, her eyebrows scrunched in what seems like stress, “Yes?” she answers.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—“ Dean begins his lie getting cut off by his brother, “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, and our friend Y/N. My brother and I, uh, we used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She laughs lightly. Dean's face drops a little, a mix of curiosity and longing on his face that if I hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t known him so well I wouldn’t have recognized it. “You did?” he asks, and I'd have to think it was a look of longing for his life back then, before he lost his mom, to a life that was so simple and child-like because that might have been the only time he really was a child.

She nods and steps aside, “Come on in.” The inside of the house wasn’t so much different from what I’ve been told about it, she shuts and locks the door behind us and we wait for her to lead us further in before moving. “I’m Jenny by the way” she says moving past us. She leads us into the big kitchen, a young girl doing homework at the table while an adorable jumpy toddler bounces in his little playpen, I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face at the sight.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” The toddler chants, bouncing as he speaks.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie.” She introduces going over to the fridge, taking out a sippy cup and handing it to the bouncy baby. “He has good taste” I laugh, the kid being just so freaking adorable.

Jenny walks over to her daughter, “Sari, this is Sam and Dean, they used to live here. And that’s their friend Y/n.” I smile at the girl who greets us with a small “Hi.” Dean for some reason waved awkwardly at the child, as if he doesn't know how to act around kids when that’s so far from the truth.

“Hey, Sari.” Sam smiles before allowing her to get back to her homework.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asks, jumping right to it. “Yeah, from Wichita.” Jenny answers, referring to a different part of Kansas.

“You got family here, or….?” Dean continues to ask, and honestly it’s kind of a creepy question. She answers a little hesitantly, “No. I just, uh….needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job –- I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“Do you like it here?” I ask genuinely. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home” She starts looking at the boys as she speaks, “…I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here…but this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks almost a little too quickly.

Jenny sighs, “Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“I think that’s an easy fix” I try to remain hopeful, it’s not like we can just tell her ‘oh yeah that’s ‘cause your house is probably haunted by a demon or something.’ And under the assumption that it was just faulty wiring, I really wasn’t sure if it was an easy fix. I mean I am no electrician.

“Anything else?” Dean adds in.

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She lists off before pausing for a beat, looking between us nervously, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.” Dean looks a little taken back by this concern, because what was written on his face was far from offense, “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

“It’s just the scratching, actually.” She answers.

“Mom?” Sari calls out lightly, Jenny kneels down to her daughter waiting for her to continue, “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asks, confused.

“The thing in my closet.” She answers weakly, and I swear my heart broke a little at the way in which she said it.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny answers softly, reminding me of my mothers soft tone when she spoke to us. Jenny looks up at the boys, “Right?”

Sam stumbles over his words as he answers, “Right. No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night.” Jenny explains, a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Sari shakes her head, “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom –- and it was on fire.”

Uh oh.

~~~~~~~~

“You hear that? A figure on fire.” Sam whisper-shouts, mainly to his brother who was walking a little too quickly then necessary to his car. The man in question turns around swiftly, “And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?”

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.” Sam bites back.

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true.” Dean snaps.

Sam’s eyes were wide with panic, “Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean snaps.

Back and forth they fight like two dogs having a barking match from just over the fence. “Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam starts again.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will.”

“No, I mean now.”

“And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she’s gonna believe?”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Both of you, stop!” I nearly shout, both boys going quiet, “Look” I sigh. “I get this is scary and all but you two bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere! And if we want to help that nice family we have to think logically. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, maybe it’s something else or maybe we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that it is that monster.

Either way we can’t just run into this with assumptions or lead on feeling alone, okay? ‘Cause that’s how we mess up and wind up dead and I don’t know ‘bout you boys but i’m not quite craving the taste of death just yet.” I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, let’s pretend this is any ol’ case, any other hunt. What do we do first?”

“Research” Dean mumbles as if he was a kid who got caught doing something wrong, which arguably isn’t so far from the truth.

“Check our bases, dig into the history” Sam adds.

“Exactly” I smile, “Good job”

Dean opens the driver seat door, getting in as he speaks, “Except this time, we already know what happened.”

Sam and I followed suit, “Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?” he asks. Dean looks around a little uncomfortable, “About that night, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire…the heat.” He pauses, “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam asks surprised.

Dean scuffs, starting the car and pulling out of the spot, “Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head, “No.”

Dean continues, “And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?” Sam questions further, and up until now I didn’t realize how much he was kept in the dark about such a significant moment in his life.

Dean shrugs, “If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.” Sam starts again, “Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

Dean again looks around uncomfortably, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, “Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam notices this obvious movement like I did and pauses for a moment, you could see the gears turning in his head, “Does this feel like just another job to you?” Dean clears his throat, suddenly jerking the car off to the left side of the road right up to the curb, the car poorly parked, “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” The second he finishes his sentence he’s out of the car and walking away into some local business that I couldn’t quite see the name of.

“I- I don’t understand him” Sam suddenly says as he watches his brother leave, turning in the passenger seat to talk to me properly, “It would be so much easier if he just…” He sighs, “talked to me.”

“I… don’t want to excuse his actions because you are right, but at the same time you know he was never taught how to be vulnerable.” I try to explain, carefully choosing my words knowing there were eggshells surrounding our feet. He then mumbles something incoherently about their childhood, he looks back up at me, “you know, you don’t really talk about your childhood either.”

“Maybe it’s just something about Kansas” I joke, he laughs lowly, “But I ,uh, I would like to tell you about it…someday…” I offer shyly, trying to offer him something in a moment where he has nothing

“I’d like that, at least I could get closer to one of you” Sam smiles, sadly.

“Hey and maybe it will open the door to encourage Dean to speak up” I say.

“Yeah you know that’s not gonna happen” He scuffs.

“Well, I was trying to be a little optimistic.”

When Dean came back to the car he was dead quiet, his eyes were glossy but he refused to talk. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not one bit.

Sitting in the back of the Impala, I watched the buildings and trees pass by. All blocks I was familiar with even if it was far from where I had actually lived, but when you're lonely you tend to find walking for an eternity isn’t so bad. Funnily enough, sitting in the back of this car felt eerily similar to when I was a child, my dad as quiet as an owl, a then changed man having lost his world. Only, he had forgotten my brother and I had lost her too, and that we were still around to begin with.

Dean stared at the road like my dad had all those years ago, so deeply as if they were to look away it would disappear right beneath them. Then Sam sat in the passenger seat looking between his brother and out the window not knowing what to say, like my brother always did. And I of course still played the same role because some things never change, some feelings never do fully leave.

Dean suddenly clears his throat, “Alright, up ahead is an old pal of dads.” Just as suddenly as he said it, he also hadn’t given us time to say anything before pulling over once more, this time in front of a mechanic's place. A sign reading “Guenther’s Auto Repair” in big red letters hung above a large garage unit. The smell of metal and grease breeze by my nose as I exit the car, following after the two taller men with what I thought was a forgotten sadness now back. I can’t imagine how they must feel, how Dean must feel.

They effortlessly found and began a discussion with the owner, easily lying about being cops which felt especially wrong today. It felt wrong to lie to anyone from the town I pretty much grew up in, even if I never knew any of them.

“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asks the older man. I knew their father was a mechanic but hadn’t known he had his own garage and partner.

“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh…twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?” He says, whipping his dirty hands on a rag stained with car grease.

“Oh, we’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of ‘em.” Dean answers smoothly, and I guess it isn’t technically a lie either. He accepts the answer with no further, visible, speculation, “Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?”

“Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind.” Dean suggests.

“Well…he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that.” He laughs. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.” To that I have to stop myself from reacting, for some reason I can’t picture John being anything less of what he is now, in terms of strictness and toughness.

“But that was before the fire?” Sam points out.

He nods, “That’s right.”

“He ever talk about that night?” Sam adds. He seems to think for a moment, “No, not at first. I think he was in shock.”

“Right. But eventually? What did he say about it?” Sam clarifies.

“Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”

“He ever say what did it?” Dean asks this time.

“Nothin’ did it. It was an accident –- an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’. I begged him to get some help, but….” He explains.

“But what?”

“Oh, he just got worse and worse.” He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

“How?” Dean asks carefully.

“He started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.” He says, suddenly catching my attention, an air of familiarity surrounding it.

“Palm reader? Uh, do you have a name?” Dean questions. I scrunch my eyebrows together trying to remember why this was familiar.

He responds at the same time it suddenly hits me, “No” he scuffs.

The name leaves my mouth in quiet thought, “Missouri Moseley.”

All three of them look at me strangely, before Dean grabs hold of my upper arm, throwing the man a smile and a “Excuse us.” He begins pulling me away from the garage and back to the car, his brother following after us after he had thanked the man.

“Where’d you get that name from?” Dean asks me sternly, looking down at me with sharp curious eyes, his grip on my arm never faulting.

I look up at him, his green eyes piercing mine, expectantly, but I find myself at a loss for words. Each syllable ready to be spoken but dying on my tongue, all in the fault of once more feeling like my younger self. Sam reaches for his brother's shoulder, almost pulling him away from me, “Ease up, Dean.” He shakes his brother off, but listens, releasing my arm and swallowing thickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay” I cut him off quickly. I wasn’t scared of him at that moment, but of the past and I knew he was too. We all were.

“I remember your dad came over and mentioned that name, along with her being the real deal. I just don’t remember what the conversation was about, I mean it had to be years ago…” I feel my eyebrows scrunch together again as I try to recall more, glimpses of the memory popping up. Our dads sitting on the long vintage couches my mom had bought for the house while me and my brother ran outside to play, “It was at the original house, m-maybe a year before we moved to Kansas.”

“So three years after mom died” Sam nods.

“Yeah that seems about right, but I’m not sure if that encounter was like right after your dad met this Missouri or some time after.” I add

“It sounds familiar. '' Dean breathed out before rounding the car to the trunk, digging through it before pulling out the journal. “In Dad’s journal…here, look at this.” He flips it open, handing it off to his brother, “First page, first sentence, read that.”

Sam takes the book, reading the sentence out loud, “I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Deans shrugs.

Missouri’s house was a cute little two story place. I admire the light brown wood paneling and stained glass windows, something I knew my mom would have loved. Dean and Sam sat squished together on a small couch, all of us waiting for her to be finished with her client. I choose to stand, not only to see them both quietly fight to sit on the couch but also to slightly look around the place without wandering around.

A round faced, warm brown skinned lady with big curly hair tied back in a ponytail escorts a man out of her house, “All right, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She tells him, her voice a natural soft and sweet tone, accompanied with a southern accent.

She closes the front door behind him, turning to face us, “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.” Her sweet voice does nothing to soften her blunt statement, my eyes go wide with the comment.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks her,

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news.” She answers simply, causing the room to fall quiet for a beat, “Well? Y/n, Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She leaves the room, I follow after her only pausing when I realize the boys weren’t following. I turn back towards them waving them over, they share a look before getting up and following.

“Well, lemme look at ya.” She laughs, “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She points a finger at Dean, “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” A burst of laughter slips through my lips before I can control myself, his face falls and he glares at her.

Her gaze turns to me, my laughter dying out but a permanent smile left on my face, “Oh, you never lost your beauty” She smiles.

“You knew me when I was younger?” I ask, confused.

“Well of course, I knew your mother. Bless her soul” She answers, only leaving me more confused ‘cause my mom never mentioned her and I would sure remember such a sweet and funny woman.

“We helped each other out back then”, she explains, “She would always show me pictures of you and your brother. You were always a smiley girl, it’s good to see you didn’t lose that. Your mother would be glad too.” A warmth blossoms in my heart at that, my smile softens with me and it was like something I didn’t even know was within was fulfilled. It was hard to find new memories of my mom when I really didn’t know anyone who had known her, other than our family, to ask. Missouri hadn’t given me a full in depth memory and yet, it was enough. Enough to know someone else clearly adored my mom and had seen her in the same light I did. I don’t know why my mom never told us about her, but for some reason I didn’t feel the need to ask.

She gives me one last smile before giving her attention to Sam, she grabs his hand, her face falling, “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” A wave of shock clearly passes over the boys face, “And your father –- he’s missin’?” she continued.

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asks, clearly forgetting she is a psychic.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.” She explains.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean rapidly spews out.

She half shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” He snaps back, far too hostile.

She gives him a weird look, “Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air.” A laugh passes through my lips before I could stop myself, I nudge Dean's shoulder who glares sharply at me before turning that look to Missouri, only furthering my spits of giggles that I try to bite back.

Her demeanor changes back to gentle, “Sit, please.” We listen to her, I took a seat beside Sam so that I wasn’t squished between both boys. Missouri suddenly snaps at Dean, “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean argues, his voice seemingly an octave higher- like a child.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.” She answers.

“Oh, I like you” I say through my laughter, it was quite the breath of fresh air to see someone put gruff ‘macho man’ Dean in his place.

Sam gets back on topic, whipping the smile that formed on his face, “Okay. So, our dad –- when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say…I drew back the curtains for him.” She responds.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean asks.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing” She explains.

“And could you?” Sam asks

She shakes her head, “I…”

“What was it?”

She answers softly, “I don’t know. Oh, but it was evil.”, She pauses for a beat, “So…you think somethin’ is back in that house?”

“Definitely” Sam breathes.

She shakes her head again, “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” She explains.

“I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something’s starting.” Sam says, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean mumbles.

~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to the Winchesters house was the light in this complex time. The entire ride Missouri lectured Dean on his driving saying he was just a little too reckless and was gonna get us all killed despite it being a generally short one. They bickered back and forth a while until Dean gave up grumbling something below his breath, causing another snap response from the woman herself.

When we finally arrived Dean quickly got out of the car before anyone else could even register being parked, I genuinely don’t think I've ever seen him happy to be out of Baby. He had very obviously, and purposefully, positioned himself so that he was standing next to me away from Missouri, in fact two people away as she stood on the other side of Sammy. I searched for Dean's hand, my fingers brushed against his larger rougher hand. I clasped it gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze to hopefully ease his tension, caused by the beef he had with the nice lady that was helping us to begin with, even though I most definitely found the whole thing hilarious. Just as Sam knocked on the door I released Dean's hand, bringing both my hands to clasp in front of me. A peak of nervousness rests in my gut as I feel his gaze on me, I ignore it, focusing my eyes forward while I rock on the balls of my feet.

Jenny answers the door, her blond hair messy and clear stress present in the crinkled corner of her eyes and worry etched into her pupils. She holds her baby, Ritchie, close to her chest, “Sam, Dean, Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Sam smiles at the blond, “Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake” Dean chimes in.

She scrunches her nose, “You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.”

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain before Missouri smacks him hard on the back of the head, far harder than I ever do, “Ow!” He yelps, turning around swiftly towards the shorter woman, “How did you-!” He nearly yells holding the back of his head. He looks at her with big wild eyes, his yelling coming from the fact she was able to quietly get behind Sam and I to hit him.

Missouri cuts him off, “Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She then turns to Jenny, “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.” Dean looks further stunned.

“About what?” Jenny asks, adjusting her hold on her kid.

“About this house.” Missouri answers.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny looks between us all, nervously.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Missouri says.

“Who are you?” Jenny asks just above a whisper.

“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.” Missouri smiles comfortingly but even so Jenny looks unsure.

She seems to go over it in her head before finally sighing, “Alright.”

The four of us stand in Sari’s bedroom, Jenny having given us room to do what we need to while she waits downstairs with her kids. Sari’s room was a dark blue, a contrast to her pink and white furniture and toys.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.” Missouri states, looking around the room carefully from where she stood.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” She answers, looking around the room. Dean pulls out his DIY EMF from the inside of his coat pocket, “That an EMF?” Missouri asks.

“Yeah.” Dean smiles smugly.

“Amateur.” Missouri says lowly, I don’t know why she was targeting Dean specifically but his reaction to her was too amusing to really ponder it.

The EMF beeps frantically, “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.” Missouri announces.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asks frantically, getting a confident nod, “How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.” She answers, pausing for a beat before adding, “Can you feel it Y/N?”

My eyes widened in shock, “I’m sorry what?”

“You still got a lot to learn ‘bout your abilities'' She responds waving me over, “c’mere, you might be able to sense the energy.”

I hesitantly place my bag down before slowly walking over to her, she either senses my nervousness or reads my mind because she explains what she means, “Witches tend to have the best intuition and connection to the natural world, you should be able to sense energies especially spiritual ones with a second sight.”

She situates me in front of her with my back towards her, her hands clasp my arms tightly as they rest at my side. “Close your eyes, and just like meditation let everythin’ else fall away.”

I follow her instructions, my eyes fluttering shut reluctantly. I feel incredibly silly as I take a deep breath, the sage-y perfume of the woman behind me filling my nose. I breathe out slowly, forcing my mind to shut out the real world, which isn’t as hard as it should be with the quiet room and my nearly regular meditating. Complete darkness surrounds me as if the room itself had fallen away with all the people in it too, just me floating in an abyss.

I focused more closely on the house itself, extending my awareness far out to the block and then as if a dark fog hugged it I zeroed in on the house. Using my conscious self I pictured what it was like to walk through the house this time with a deep focus and new eyes.

With each step I ventured further into the house cautiously, a buzzing feeling rang through the house like when two strong magnets fight for equilibrium with a clatter. But despite the buzzing a physical warm glow emitted from the home's edges and like a hand reaching out it tried to conquer more of the house, yet it couldn’t. A force I couldn't quite tell held it back. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall, a cold chill running down my spine, I shrugged it off as I walked back up the stairs and down the hall to my physical self.

My foot only breached the doorway when a dreadful feeling filled the halls as if rooted beneath the wallpaper, a twinge of fear made its home in my stomach. I had never done this before, never went into my mind to feel the very things I hunt. I have no experience here, this is not my domain. They must know that as hushed murmurs fluttered around me with voices I couldn’t detect but knew they didn’t belong to anyone in the room. They wouldn’t be able to talk to me here so normally, maybe Missouri but certainly not Sam or Dean.

The murmurs became louder, each whisper jumbled over the next, talking over each other to the point of no recognition. My back hits the hard archway of the door's entrance, the sheer loudness of combined voices knocking me off balance. I braced myself against the door, nails biting into wood, my eyes shut tightly in effort to focus even further.

An unfamiliar cold hand brushes my forearm dragging its fingers up to my elbow as if standing beside me, I swiftly turn around backing up a few feet to see nothing near me. Another brush touches me, this time the back of my neck accompanied by a hot breath fanning by my ear. I don’t move away. this is not my domain, but it will be, and I will not show fear now. Latin spews from its mouth flowing right into my ear, a simple teasing statement, “Another toy.”

My eyes shoot open, pupils blown wide as my eyes adjust to the lighting as well as my mind being back in focus of the physical realm. My heart beats harshly against my chest, my lungs heaving with adrenaline.

A large hand clasps around my upper arm tightly, I nearly stumble back a step before my mind finally catches up with the present. “What is it?” Dean spews out quickly, his green eyes nearly crazed with worry.

I open my mouth to answer only to have Missouri answer for me instead, “You saw them.”

“F-felt more like” I stammer the feeling of its touch still lingering.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks, looking between Missouri and I for answers, his hand still on my arm. Thing is I don’t have an answer, all that creepy spirit touching and I still don’t know everything.

But of course Missouri does, “They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“This house buzzes with energy, literally you can feel it attracting paranormal energy. There’s two here right now…ones in the room. My head turns towards the closet, “A poltergeist. I’m not sure if it sees it as a game or what but I think it wants Jenny and her kids dead.” I know I’m right when Missouri nods her head.

“You both said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.” Missouri answers before adding, “You pick up anythin’”

“Only that it felt…good, if that makes sense. It was very different from the other. It was like this warmth trying to consume the house or really rid the house of its evil.” I answer by trying to make sense of everything that I have experienced.

“You’re sure of this?” Dean asks me, gaining my attention again by squeezing my arm before finally letting go.

“Yes.” I breathe simply, failing to explain that my only other hunch was the fact that it hadn’t been bothering me or I suppose terrorizing me like the poltergeist had with its touching.

A hard determined look sharpens on Dean's face, “Well, one thing’s for damn sure –- nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

“We’re gonna cleanse the house” Missouri answers simply, “Y/N, what you have in that bag of yours?”

A devilish smirk stretches itself on my face, “You wanna do purifying bags?” I ask back instead of answering. I walk back over to my discarded bag picking it up and swinging it over my shoulder, “Let’s do this downstairs, don’t want to make a mess in the kids room” Missouri says, answering my question without really answering it.

“Copy” I smile, taking the lead as we exit the room. With a sudden need for my specialty I found a new pep in my step as I quickly descended the stairs beelining for the nearest table. I carefully placed my bag down on the dining room table, pulling out my spell book marked and written in along with small corked glass bottles of different roots and herbs I carry. “When did you put all of this in your bag?” Sam asks, picking up a vial of crossroad dirt.

“Before I left with Dean to come get you, ‘cause you never know when you're gonna have to put together a spell or a potion of sorts” I answer, pulling out a couple empty small brown pouches.

“So you’ve been carrying this ‘round with you this whole time?” Dean asks this time.

“Mhm” I hum as I sit getting right to work.

With a little bag in front of me I put in each ‘ingredient’, for lack of a better word, not needing to look at my book for the right amount in each.

“Well don’t be lazy, help the girl!” Missouri lectures hitting Dean on the back of the head again. He grumbles no longer snapping back with something, he sits down next to me looking for direction.

With the feeling of his gaze on the side of my face I swirl my finger towards my spell book, a purple haze floating through the air turning the pages of my book to the right section for him to follow without me having to stop my work. He doesn't say anything as he takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, putting his forearms on display as he picks up bits of root, unfortunately catching my attention enough to pause my work and stare at him.

His eyes move from my book to the bag he was working on, his eyes sharp and focus as it passes across the words on the page. He moves his hand to the book using a finger to drag across the page underneath each word, the veins in his hand bulging as he does so. His eyebrows scrunch and his jaw ticks as he asks, “What is this stuff anyway?”

“That’s angelica root your holding” I mentioned first, referring to the fuzzy green plant in his hand. “And that’s van van oil, crossroad dirt, sage” I point to each bottle, naming off each ingredient we’re using.

He nods as I speak, his eyes still holding the same level of focus. From his listening to the gentle touch he used as he handled each bottle, all I could feel was pure endearment. The sudden quietness in the room made me painfully aware of the fact that we were the only ones left in said room and that Missouri along with Sam had left at some point, most likely to talk to Jenny.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean questioned, knocking his knee into mine to get my attention once more. A bashful smile breaks its way onto my face at his touch, “We put them inside the walls of each corner of each floor of the house, north, south, east, west.”

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the dry wall. Jenny’s gonna love that.” Dean points out.

My lips formed a tight line, cringing, “Yeah…this is just how this goes but to be fair some holes in the walls are better than evil spirits.”

He huffed a laugh, “And this will destroy the spirits?”

“It should, it's supposed to purify the house completely, we’ll probably each take a floor but we do have to work quickly because when they catch on to what we’re doing, they get seriously pissed.” I answered

“Won’t they catch on with us doing it here?”

“You would think that but spirits don’t always know until it’s actually happening like when we make the holes then it’s a big deal.” I inform, tying off another bag.

“Huh” He replies as he continues to work.

Soon silence falls upon us while we work, our arms brushing against each other every now and then.

“Are holes in drywall a hard fix?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence, worried that the spirits won’t be the only pissed ones.

A deep chuckle passes through his lips, “That depends, sweetheart, but it should be.” He went on to explain the logistics of it, and while it wasn’t something I really cared to know about I didn’t stop him from explaining.

By the time his explanation of spackles and walls was over our purifying bags were done too.

Missouri and Sam walk back into the room, the floor creaking slightly underneath them. “You guys almost done?” Sam asked

“Yup” I hummed, “The bags are all done just gotta finish cleaning up”

“Good. Jenny and her kids just left, they’ll be back in an hour or two” Sam explained, placing a bunch of heavy items on the table. “I brought these in from the car, take your pick.”

I look up at the heavy mass, a hammer, a small ax, and two crowbars lay on the table. Though it is an odd collection of weapons as long as it is capable of making a hole in the wall it doesn't really matter, Sam picks up the hammer testing the weight of it in his hand.

With every part of the plan settled I throw the rest of the vials and leftover bags in my bag worrying about organization later, gently tucking my thick spell book into my bag I turn swiftly around, “Let’s get it done.”

“I’ll take this floor” Dean says, picking up his four bags, “Sammy you take upstairs, and you two can take the basement.”

“And remember you need to put a bag in each corner, north, south, east, west.” I order as everyone has the right amount of bags and a weapon of choice.

A collective nod was all we needed to spring into action, with the cold heavy crowbar in my hand I took the lead down the basement Missouri following closely after me. Without any words needed, we split up her heading to the west side of the floor and me to the east.

A chill runs up my spine, an uncomfortable feeling floating in the air, I roll my shoulders trying to rid myself of the feeling. My knees hit the floor, the coldness seeping through my pants. I knock on the wall in an attempt to hear a hollow part, Dean having mentioned before that would be the easiest way to make a hole. My knuckles hit the wall in at least ten separate spots before it no longer sounds solid. I stand back up for better leverage before changing my hold on the crowbar to be horizontal, bashing the end of it into the wall repeatedly until it cracks.

A heavy sliding noise shuffles behind me, I snap my head to the sound of a large dark table moving across the floor right into Missouri. My mouth opens to scream her name in warning but just as the first syllable leaves my mouth a nail comes flying at my face. Out of reflex alone I send the nail flying to the left, the invisible force of my power altering its trajectory. My eyes follow where the nail came from, an open red tool box, more nails come flying my way and each time I knock them away. Knowing it wouldn’t stop I gripped the crowbar harder using only a glimpse back at the wall to know where I was aiming for. While I used one hand and half my focus on changing the direction of the nails I used my other to slam the crowbars end into the already cracked wall but only when it sounded like it broke through enough did I glimpse back again. With another look forward at the coming nails, only one more left, I waited until it got closer, the old nail zooming toward my eye. Just as it got but an inch away I dropped to the floor, turning my body as I went, throwing the purification bag in.

I got up quickly, dropping my crowbar, almost tripping over my other foot as I ran to Missouri, pushing the table away from her, throwing another bag into the hole she had already made before she got attacked. She breathes heavily, a hand on her chest. “You okay?” I ask, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the table. She nods her head, handing me her two bags, wordlessly telling me to finish the floor.

I grip the bags in one hand as I pick up my discarded crowbar, seeing the nails that flew at me sticking out of the walls. I head over to the undisturbed wall slamming the crowbar into the wall, not even attempting to do the knocking at this point. While I threw in the third bag, worry consumed me at the realization that the spirits must be attacking the boys too. Without wasting any more time I go to the last undisturbed wall, again slamming the crowbar into it. Call it paranoia or instinct that made me turn so that my shoulder was facing the wall instead of my face to see if another attack would be coming. Either way it was that alone that saved me from the poltergeist throwing a wooden chair at my head. I duck again just in time for the chair to smash into pieces above me, wood undoubtedly falling into my hair.

“Stop throwing stuff!” I yell at the air itself or really the incredibly annoying poltergeist. With a huff I throw in the last bag, all the activity silencing on this floor. I get up walking over to Missouri as I pick out chunks of wood from my hair, as soon as I get close enough she reaches up and takes a particularly large piece of chair out of my hair showing it to me with a laugh before tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice yells with a strain, clearly coming from a distance away. Right away I recognize the voice, Deans, I go running climbing up the stairs two at a time. Forget about my hair, forget about leaving Missouri behind (no offense).

The ground floor is practically untouched other than the clear mess that is peeking out from the kitchen, I look around quickly and see no one, “Dean?!” I shout back evident fear in my voice, getting an immediate “Up here.” Slight relief hits me as I again sprint up the stairs, twirling around the banister the second I reach the second floor seeing the closest open door. Forgetting about precautions I immediately approach the door, my hand on the archway when I see Dean on the floor cradling a hurt-limp Sam.

“Wha-“ I begin saying only to lose my train of thought.

“Let’s get him up” Missouri suddenly says from behind me, very calmly. She nudges past me heading straight for the boys, but neither of them move. She leans down beside Sam pressing two fingers to the side of his neck, “He’s still alive, he’ll be just fine.”

He gives her a curt nod before leaning back on his feet and standing, dragging his brother up with him, just as he does so Sam comes to. His eyes fluttering open and close, “It’s okay Sammy, just gonna bring you downstairs” Dean tells him, putting his brother's arm around his shoulder.

Carefully he walks his brother downstairs, Sam grumbling something halfway through before going limp again. Finally they reach the living room, Dean carefully lays his brother on the couch then moves to sit on the coffee table right across from him.

“He’ll be alright” I say softly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“I know” he replies.

“Were you able to finish the floor?” I ask even though maybe it wasn’t the proper time to.

“No. I was hurled with knives the second I made the hole, then I heard something upstairs and ran to see if Sammy was okay…I don’t think he finished either” He explains, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“It’s okay, i’ll go finish it and you guys can stay here, watch over him” I say, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before moving my hand away.

“Are you crazy?! That’s dangerous. Did you not just see what happened to Sam?!” Dean shoots back, not quite yelling but his voice is definitely louder than needed.

I smiled at him sweetly knowing this was coming from a place of worry and not an incompetent sort of deal, “Don’t worry I can take care of myself just fine, I did so down stairs when we finished up. Got some nails thrown at me, a chair and a table, you know just the usual playing house with the ghost.”

“That’s not the point. I’m coming with you.” He stands up abruptly and I swear I saw his jaw tick.

“Okay. I’m not gonna argue with you” I respond with humor in my voice. “But. If you did want to stay behind to watch your brother I wouldn't fault you for it either.”

He looks at me strangely with those beautiful green eyes before diverting them just past me, “I’m coming with you.”

“Right.” I smile “‘You got the bags?”

He answers by shuffling through his jacket pockets and pulling out a bag from each, he holds them up in an almost teasing way. I take a half step forward, grabbing a bag right out of his hand, only then realizing how close my small step puts us, having to lean my head back far enough to look up at him comfortably. But I don’t move away as I ask him, “What about your axe?”

He tilts his head down slightly towards me, his breathe hot on my face, “Dropped it in the kitchen”

“Good.” I say, nearly and pathetically getting distracted by our closeness…and his eyes… and his lips. “ ‘Cause I have no idea where I left that crowbar”

He laughs and steps away, his shoulder brushing mine as he walks away to the kitchen. Before I can turn to follow him Missouri meets my eyes, giving me a pointed-knowing look about what just happened. ‘Shut up’ I playfully mouth.

Finally I turn around following after the man in question. He comes out of the kitchen holding the small axe but just behind him is a mess. The kitchen looks like a tornado went through it with draws and cabinets open, utensils on the floor, broken dishes scattered around, the table turned over with knives sticking out of it (a tornado could not do that but the point of the mess still stands.) I look back at Dean then behind him repeatedly, “Did you have fun?” I remark sarcastically.

“Oh, not as much fun as you had” He replies gruffly, reaching up to my hair, his fingers sinking in as he ruffles out small chips of wood. My cheeks feel warm at the small contact and even more so when he pulls away and gives me that smirk. Then he walks away towards the back of the house with a cocky look in his eye like he knew exactly what he had done. I take a short deep breath before following him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later every purifying bag is put in place and Sammy is conscious and now we stand in the disaster that is the kitchen, broken cabinets and chair bits on the floor as well as a collection of utensils, all just to see the bunt of the fight.

“‘You sure this is over?” Sam questions, his voice a little rough.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?” Missouri answers.

“Never mind.” He sighs, “It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opens followed by footsteps, “Hello? We’re home.” Jenny calls out before finding us in the kitchen pure shock written on her face, “What happened?”

“Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this.” Sam word vomits, the words spilling out quickly and anxiously. Both Dean and I’s heads snap towards him, I seriously want to ask him ‘with what money???’ But before anyone can fathom a word Missouri beat us to it, “Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” Again with her (maybe) uncalled targeting I have to bite back a smirk, meanwhile Dean stands unmoving his eyebrows scrunched looking at the shorter woman with a total bewildered expression.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.” She adds, and I don’t know how she has this much power but he listens and begins to walk away or really shuffle away, “And don’t cuss at me!” She lectures.

Laughter slips through my lips as he mutters under his breath, Sam joining in on the hilarious nature that is his brother being bossed around.

Wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye I touch Sam’s shoulder, “I’m gonna go get him and fix this up…” I twirl my finger slightly to signal I mean magically, “Bring Jenny inside somewhere.” He nods, “Okay but you should really let him suffer”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes as I move away.

I find Dean standing in front of a broom closet trying to balance several cleaning objects in his hands at once. I admire his effort but there’s just no way anyone could clean that kitchen when it’s quite literally just destroyed. I grabbed a broom from him that was seconds away from falling, “Not to ruin your fun but I figured it would be easier to use magic on the kitchen than a mop.”

“Thank god” He sighs, shoving everything back in the closet including the broom I held.

Back in the kitchen I try not to get stressed at just how bad it is. Taking a calming breath I walk over to the kitchen counters, closing my eyes, I feel my hair move around me slightly from a small drift in the room, my body stands completely still as I let my hands feel the cool counter below me and the steadiness of it all. As my body relaxes and my shoulders drop, relieving its tension I become a conduit for magic, a dance of ethereal threads weaving through me. The energy flowed from my core to my fingertips, the flow gracefully extending to every nook and cranny. As if tracing an intricate pattern, it embraced the room, coaxing broken shards and scattered pieces back into harmony. The air felt electric with the essence of restoration, and the kitchen hummed with the soothing melody of enchantment.

When I open my eyes again, I feel a gaze on me. I turn my whole body, so that I was standing sideways, to it and of course it’s Dean, he meets my eyes, his mouth just slightly agape and I can only imagine what the swirling of purple energy around the room fixing items must have looked like. His green eyes are slightly glossy with what is maybe curiousity or amazement, either way it was a weird look. Before I could question him I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a tall familiar figure. Sam stands by the kitchen archway waving his hand, signaling it was time to go.

Hours later darkness consumes the Impala. After dropping Missouri back home Sam insisted we came back to the house for a stakeout. It was hard to argue with someone who had a bad feeling over something that is quite literally life or death, so we stayed. We’d been in here so long in fact that I’d taken to lying down flat in the backseat, my legs propped up on the seats (shoes off so Dean wouldn’t complain but at least I got to showcase my cute dragonfly socks).

I stare up at the beige-ish interior roof, my hands laying across my chest. I breathe in and out evenly, but with the prospect of being bored, memories of my life here swarm my head and suddenly I miss my mom more than I've had in a long time. If I focus hard enough on the roof I can still hear the remnants of her laughter and I could see her smile, the one I inherited, on her soft face. That old longing, that old sadness that I thought I was over fills my heart, its hands creep up on it clasping it tightly. It’s been years. So many years since she’s been gone and yet still this feeling—this rawness in my chest, this endless longing is home in my body just as it was the first time around.

I miss my mom.

I want to cry and I want her back, tears threaten my eyes and that stupid tightness in my throat prevails almost like it’s choking me, a tightness that’s so painful I want to rip my throat out. I swallow forcefully, I hate this feeling and I hate death and I hate that I'm feeling this in the back of the car with my best friends just right up front. It’s too vulnerable, it’s too open, too close to home…I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I shut my eyes tightly trying to erase these feelings to move them back in the dusty box they had sat in. But it isn’t that easy and I know it isn’t so instead I breathe deeply and choose to listen to Dean and Sam talk, focusing on the up and down of their words and the softness of each syllable.

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks, impatience clear on his tongue.

“I don’t know. I just…” Sam sighs, “…still have a bad feeling.”

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.” Dean explains.

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.” Sam answers.

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean responds and I hear him slide down his seat, probably closing his eyes in the process, “Like Y/N back there” he adds, softer, and even with my eyes closed a smile produces itself on my face. The small warmth that spreads in my chest fends off the grief, at least enough for it not to be at the forefront of my mind.

The quiet peace that falls over the Impala is short lived, Sam suddenly yelling, “Guys. Look” My eyes shoot open, “Dean!” He hits his brother's shoulder.

I sit up quickly catching a glimpse of Jenny yelling by her window, with nothing more to be said- we jump out of the car. I shuffled to the car door, leaving my shoes behind, the second I’m out and the door is slammed shut I run after the boys who were only two paces ahead. “You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny.” Dean commands as Sam tries the door which of course is locked. Dean pushes him slightly to the side, he takes a step back lifting his leg and kicking in the door. Broken pieces of wood stick out from the side of it.

The dark wooden floors are cold beneath my sock-covered feet, each step up the staircase seems far too long even as we reach the top. At the top Dean stops at a door close to the stairs but I don’t use any more focus to take anything else as Sam and I run down the hall, “Get Sari! I’ll get the baby!” I yell after him. Stopping at the closest door I swing it open only to reveal a bathroom, I curse underneath my breath before spinning around to the door right across the hall. Once more I swing it open, this time revealing a baby room with a white crib in the middle of it. I rush over only slowing to not scare Richie as I approach, somehow he’s still asleep wrapped up in his little blanket.

Carefully I reach in the crib scooping him up from underneath his upper back, my other arm going for his legs. Once in my arms I rearrange him so my dominant hand rests on his lower back while the crook of my other arm cradles his little head, just like holding a baby doll except this one is way cuter and also very alive. Standing back at my full height I fix his blanket around him before exiting the room. I know Sam can handle himself so I head towards the stairs, the baby had to be the priority right now. I quickly descend the stairs, only half way down when I feel Sam close behind, a relief hitting me.

My feet only just hit the ground level when Sam calls my name, swiftly I turn towards him Sari in his arms.

“Y/N, you need to take the kids and go outside.” He orders, placing Sari on the floor.

“Okay, what about you aren’t you coming?” I rushed out, cradling Richie in one arm so I could take hold of Sari’s hand.

Panic is written all over his face and something else lies in his eyes, “Take them. Don’t look back” And before I can argue any further he’s nudging me forward, reluctantly I go only because I know I can’t help with two kids in my arms. I run towards the door at this point, pulling Sari along with me, just behind me I hear a slam to the floor and I know it’s Sam- relief gone. But even so I rush forward.

The chill breeze of the night hits me hard. Jenny and Dean stand on the edge of the grass line. Only a few paces from them Sari lets go of my hand and runs to her mom, Jenny leaning down to catch her and hold her tightly. “Sam’s inside you have to go now” I speak quickly, my words jumbling over itself. Dean's eyes widen and pure fear fills them, on top of being scared guilt fills me now too. He runs to the front door and I hear it slam loudly. I hand Richie back over to his mom who is very obviously relieved to have him again.

Dean runs back to the Impala pulling out a shotgun and an ax, going right back to the door. I know I could open the door for him, it would be easy and I wouldn’t even break a sweat. Yet, my feet remain planted to the grown, the chaos of it all—the guilt. My purifying bags didn’t work, it nearly got a whole family killed and Sam’s now in trouble too. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

My feet won’t move, my body won’t react, I can't even redeem myself. I don’t want to lose anyone else, I don’t want to. I can’t.

Move.

Move. Please move, I beg myself— my very being to do something anything but be helpless. I hate being helpless and yet I’m here doing nothing, anxiety and fear encasing me to this spot. I hear Dean hacking away at the door, faint grunts leaving his mouth as he does so but still I can’t move. Sari begins to cry latching on to her moms legs only waking up Ritchie in the process who then begins to cry too. The loud crying rings in my ears, only making my heart beat faster.

Jenny, visibly overwhelmed, wrestles with the challenge of consoling both kids, her distress mirrored in her eyes. Without conscious thought, my arms extend, offering to hold Ritchie. To my surprise, she entrusts the baby to me, planting a tender kiss on his forehead before gathering Sari into her embrace. Sari's legs encircle her mother's waist, a protective hand cradling the back of her head.

Richie moving in my arms breaks me out of my panic, if only because someone in need was right there, someone who surely couldn’t help themselves. I begin to rock him, moving my weight from one foot to another but my stress and worry is still there and he must feel it too because it does barely anything to help. I look back up, Dean is still hacking away at the door, not enough progress has been made. I rearrange the baby, using my free arm I lift up a hand my palm facing towards the direction of the door, with barely any thought needed the door slams open. Dean looks back at me for only a second before running in.

Richie's cries persist as I rock him, murmuring reassurances, "It's okay, everything will be okay." I desperately rack my mind for any calming measures, when I suddenly recall my mother singing me lullabies. But still I struggle to remember any of them, the memory too distant to be anything more than a hymn, instead I decide to softly sing "A Lullaby" by Dear Nora – even though it came out way after my mothers passing it always reminded me of her. And I had always kept a small hope that one day if I were to have kids that I would sing it to them too.

As I move a strand of hair from Richie's face, he begins to settle. My voice trembles with fear, but it seems to have a soothing effect anyways. Richie stops crying, and I meet Jenny's gaze. She offers a sad smile while holding her daughter close.

Both boys came out of that house. Relief had hit me like a ton of bricks, my knees felt wobbly with it. At first they could barely speak, shocked at what they saw but then the police and firefighters came and it was all the usual.

It was hours later until everything was resolved, and it wasn’t until Missouri came over that they actually spilt what happened. Their mom was there, she was the good spirit that I had felt, the one that was fighting off the evil and she did exactly that when it had attacked Sam. Somehow, she was still at the house after all these years protecting it. She had used the last of her abilities to say…sorry.

It’s morning now, Missouri cleared the house for real this time no spirit was left in there. The kids were sleeping still, Jenny was giving the photos she found to Dean and Sam sat with Missouri on the steps talking.

I had nothing to say to anyone in particular so I sat in the Impala, my legs outside the car, digging through my bag, when I finally pulled out my spell book I turned to the purifying page, I looked it over again trying to see if we did something wrong and messed up the amounts. But no. We did it right, but for some reason it didn’t work—it didn’t work and people could have died. Holding the book on my lap I reach up to the top of it, my hand holding the single page ready to tear it out when it’s suddenly taken from my grasp “Hey, what are you doing?!” Dean yells, holding it out of reach.

“It didn’t work. It needs to go, please give it back.” I answered, my jaw clenched.

“This was your moms, you’d hate yourself if you ripped it up.” Dean lectures.

“No I wouldn't, give it back. I need to make sure this never happens again.” I shoot up from my seat reaching up to grab it back but his arm shoots down behind his back.

“Yeah, you would. Sorry to break it to you sweetheart but I know you pretty damn well.”

I don’t care if he’s right. I don’t. That page needs to go, I can’t make this mistake again. I won’t. I reach for it again behind his back but again he moves it, “Dean. I’m not joking around give it back.” I don’t often get angry, but I am.

He looks down at me, his eyes scrunched in confusion and concern, “What’s going on with you?”

I huff, frustrated, “What’s going on is I messed up. Badly. They could have died and don’t try to say I don’t know that for sure because I do. And I know you do too, so I don’t need any comforting lies”

"We screw up, sweetheart. It's part of the gig. But we fixed it. They're alive and kickin', okay?" His words carried that gruff reassurance he always had, even when he was being a bit of a hypocrite. Book at his side, guard lowered just a bit, it was my chance to snag it back. "Not this," I jabbed a finger at the book. "I'm good at this. I don't mess up on this."

"I don't care that you're all emotional right now. You're not trashing your spell book." Arms crossed in front of his chest, he held his ground.

My chest heaved, my eyes scrunched in frustration as I looked up at him, my free hand in a tight fist my nails digging into my palm. “But, it needs to—“ I say back, weakly, already my fight was crumbling, being replaced with something else. Suddenly his arms were around me and my face was buried in his chest. His arms held my upper back tightly, his hands going up to cup my head, his fingers entangled into my hair a little while his chin rested on top of my head. With each breath I took, inhaling his smell of something woody and some sort of spice mixed into one, any resolve I had left was gone.

I wanted to keep fighting, I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he held me so close and so gentle that I couldn’t. If that in itself had made me weak then so be it. I wrap my arms around his center, even with my book in my hand. It had to be seconds later when he must have felt the tension leaving my shoulders when he pulled away, his hands dropped down to the crook of my arm holding me a short distance away. His green eyes locked with mine in a silent agreement.

I pull away fully when Sam and Missouri approach, quickly whipping my eyes just in case and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. We each exchange hugs with her, even Dean who surprisingly gets no comment this time.

Missouri smiles, “Don’t you be strangers.”

“We won’t.” Dean nods as he rounds the car.

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wasyago · 9 months

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how did u get so good at composition:3 did u like to draw background all the time or it came to be after practice how long does one piece usually take:333

hehe well, thank you first of all. second of all... um both? practice yes, no one gets it on the first time. and just. i dont know? doing it over and over again and trying new things and experimenting, seeing what works, what doesn't, where the background is needed and not.

i remember i heard a lot of artists around me saying that they didn't like or couldn't draw backgrounds, and for some reason i decided that im not gonna be like other girls and learn to do it. and i uhhh.... just started? drawing backgrounds? i was trying, and watching tutorials on youtube, and seeing how other people did it and eventually it got easier? i can say that i definitely enjoyed figuring out how to do it, struggling to get the perspective and composition right. like, it was hard but i had a lot of fun doing it, so it felt natural and just like, normal art progression? it didn't feel like i was going out of my way to draw backgrounds, i just did it when i felt like it?

at some point i joined a character ask, you know, when people ask questions and you draw the character answering. and i decided that im gonna draw a background for each answer instead of it being a character on a blank background. and doing this, like, specifically trying to draw backgrounds and tell a story with them, and doing it regularly and coherently, it helped me progress a lot. like, i started with a character sitting on a couch in a room, and then it got better and better, multiple rooms, multiple angles of the same room, different locations and images. it helped me a ton. just, figuring out when you need a background, when its rather i did something simple for one frame and focused on the other instead, where the character needs to be positioned, etc.

i can say i didn't do a lot of proper studies, and if i did maybe it would've been helpful... i only drew things that were in my head, with characters that i liked, with imaginary locations and stuff. never really drew from photos... we did go on plein-airs, or whatever they're called, when i was in art school, so drawing backgrounds from real life probably also helped a little, but i can't remember anything about it so it didn't do as much.

i looked at a lot of art from cool artists and expanded my visual library, i analyzed their art trying to figure out why i like it and how to make my art have the same kind of feeling. and i still do! sometimes something just takes over me and i scroll pinterest for 3 hours looking at pretty art and going to artists' profiles and saving art and using it as inspiration later. and it helps! a lot!

i dont know where this post is going ummm. i guess if you want to learn to draw something, just like, start. scrap it if you don't like it and try again, have fun, don't get attached. and uhh, i felt a little nostalgic so here are some of my pieces that i did throughout the years. definitely feels like i got better at it recently, but there's still a lot of room for improvement

oh and for your second question. one piece takes about ummmm... more than a thousand episodes, thats 20 minutes times 1000 devided by 60 devided by 24... we're looking at about 14+ days of non stop watching?

no but for real. i dont really keep track of time when im drawing, uhh. plus depending on the complexity... my recent jrwi drawings are sketches, so they took maybe one or two hours max. something rendered uhhh, maybe 5 hours? if i don't finish it in one day the chances of this drawing ever getting done are super low, soo yeah

#yagotalk

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pensat-i-fet · 9 months

Text

I chose you (Julián Álvarez x Reader)

**Got another Julián request recently and it’s always funny how easy it is to write for him. So hopefully it’s easy and enjoyable to read for all of you ❤️**

Word count: 1879

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Are you ok?”, asks my mum, and I can see the worry in her expression even through the screen.

“Yeah. Just not feeling 100% at the moment, you know?”

“Why? Are you sick or something?”

“No. I guess I’m just going through one of those moments where I don’t feel super confident or whatever. No specific reason. For all I know, it could just be the bad weather making me feel this way”.

“Is everything ok with Julián?”

I smile without even noticing. “Yes, mum. It’s nothing to do with him”.

“Well, I’ll still tell him to take better care of you so you don’t feel this way”.

“Mum, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need my boyfriend to take care of me”.

“We all need people to take care of us. Don’t forget that”.

I don’t want to admit it but I know she’s right. I’m always in my own head, not sharing how I feel and it can be a bit much sometimes.

“I’ll talk to Julián when he comes back”, I promise to myself before picking up my phone to waste my time on social media.

I see City have posted some photos, including one of Julián, so I like the post. Then I click on his profile and go to the tagged photos. I always love seeing all the photos of him that professional photographers take. I have an album full of them.

But I also see photos fans have posted. It seems like there are more girls taking photos with him after training. With him and all the others, but I only care about my boyfriend.

I’m not a jealous person. I’ve never been, honestly. It’s easy to say you aren’t but then your actions show the opposite. However, that’s not me. I don’t think I’d be able to deal with the stress if I was a jealous person and dating a football player.

So it’s not jealousy I feel while reading the captions they write for my boyfriend. Or seeing the videos where they try to hug him or kiss his cheek. But if it isn’t jealousy, then what is it?

I usually would just laugh it off. Julián himself tells me stories of these meetings whenever something funny happens, knowing how little I’ll care about their flirting with him.

Opening TikTok is probably the stupidest idea at the moment. Yet here I am wasting more time making myself feel ugly seeing all the gorgeous girls I follow for beauty and fashion inspo and getting annoyed at the edits Julián’s fans make for him.

“I’m so stupid”, I say, throwing the phone on the sofa before hiding underneath one of the blankets.

A couple of minutes later, Julián is back and starts to call my name. For a second, I think about pretending to sleep but he would notice the lie.

“I’m here”, I say in a small voice, getting my head out from underneath the blanket so he can see me.

“What are you doing there? Are you feeling alright?”

I nod, not wanting to worry him with my silly thoughts. “Just tired”.

“Well, I’m tired too. How about you move so I can fit next to you and we cuddle?”

“I’d like that”.

My promise to tell him about how I was feeling is gone the second I place my head on his chest. Because I have no reason to feel like this. I should be fine. This will pass soon.

"So how was your day?, asks Julián while he sets the table for our dinner. We fell asleep on the sofa the moment we cuddled and didn't get to talk at all.

"Ok, I guess", I shrug.

"What did you do? You always tell me about the whole day. Come on, I want to know".

I'm usually excited to talk about my day. But not right now. "You know. Studied in the morning, face timed with my mum and then went to the sofa to nap".

"Everything ok with your parents?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

I can see him trying to find the right words. "I don't know. You seem a bit off. I thought maybe they gave you bad news or something".

"No. I'm just tired. I told you".

"Well, then you sit here", he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and guiding me to the chair. "And I'll finish getting everything ready".

"Thank you", I say, offering him a small smile. His is a lot bigger and after kissing my temple he goes back to the kitchen.

During dinner, he updates me on everything going on at the club and focusing my attention on someone else for a second helps me a lot.

"Feeling better?", he says, hopeful.

"Yes. I think I'll just take a shower before bed to help me relax".

"Go do that. I'll put this in the dishwasher".

I get up to go to the room and stop when I reach Julián to give him a hug.

"I love it when you're clingy like that".

This time the smile is bigger. It's easy to smile when he's around. It's when I'm alone with my thoughts that I struggle.

When I get out of the shower, I try to make a bit of an effort. It's not as if I have to impress Julián right now, but I need to impress myself, sort of.

Whenever I'm having these confidence issues or whatever they are, the first thing I drop is looking after myself. I struggle with simple things such as putting on moisturizer after the shower or picking cute outfits. And it only makes me feel worse in the end because I look worse. It's such a stupid cycle.

Julián is already in bed looking at his phone when I get back to the room. He puts the phone away the moment I get to the bed and puts one of his arms around my shoulders to bring me closer to him.

"You smell so good I could eat you".

I laugh. "You don't like coconut".

"Not the fruit. But I like it when you smell like this", he says, nuzzling his nose on my neck.

"Feel free to use the body butter if you want to smell like me", I joke.

"Wouldn't that make me too irresistible to other women?"

I roll my eyes at his bad joke. "I'll take the risk".

"Actually, I didn't tell you this funny story from today. These three girls asked for a photo when I was in my car and kept complimenting me, my clothes, my car …no subtlety", he laughs but I don't join him. "And then a kid showed up and they had to let him get closer and were so annoyed. They'll probably be there again tomorrow".

I don't say anything because what can I say? I already saw the photos and I thought the girls looked familiar. I guess they spend their days there.

"Hey, you ok?"

"Yes", I say, turning my back to him and pretending to get ready to sleep.

"What was that?"

"I'm sleepy. Good night".

"What did I do for you to react like…wait, are you jealous?"

"What?", I say, turning again to look at him.

"I told you about those girls and you got all weird. You have no reason to be jealous, you know that".

"I'm not jealous of any fangirls, Julián".

And I'm not, but my tone and my face make it sound like a lie. I hate this feeling.

I go back to my previous position and a couple of seconds later I notice Julián wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing me closer to his chest.

"It's you I want. Please know that".

"I know", I whisper. Maybe it's better if he thinks I'm jealous instead of having to dig deeper to explain everything else. "I love you".

"I love you too. Sleep well now. You'll feel better tomorrow after a good night's rest".

If only it were that easy.

The next couple of days, Julián seems to be tiptoeing around my feelings and he doesn't bring up any meetings with fangirls. Actually, by checking Instagram, I've noticed one of them mentioned he didn't stop to attend them at all. I don't even know how I feel about that.

By the time he comes back from training, I'm back under the blanket and when he gets to the sofa, he moves it to see my face.

"You were worrying me so I spoke to your mum".

"What?", I say, sitting up.

"Well, you don't talk to me so I had to do something. I can't see my girlfriend hurting and do nothing".

"I just don't know what happens to me", I say, feeling the tears on the back of my eyes.

"It's not going to solve everything but sit here", he says, patting the spot between his legs. "So I can hold you while we try to make sense of it, ok?"

I nod, sitting there and letting him share his strength with me through this hug.

"It's just something that happens sometimes. I don't know if it's anxiety or something else. But I just feel like I'm not enough. Like all my confidence is gone. Like anything I have to do, no matter how small, demands too big of an effort from me".

"Ok. Does it usually take long for that feeling to go away?"

"It depends. It used to be worse when I was younger. Now it's usually a couple of days. Maybe a week and a half or something like that".

"And do you know anything that can make you feel better? Whatever it is, I'll make sure you have it".

"You".

He looks at me confused. "What do you mean?"

"I need you. You don't even notice how much you help me just by being you. It's when you're not around that it gets worse".

"That means a lot to me. But we need to find other ways to help. I wish I could always stay with you but I can't".

"I know", I say, hugging him tighter and placing my head on his chest.

"And you're sure there is no jealousy involved in this? It's ok if there is. I mean, I'm jealous of every man that talks to you".

I chuckle. "No, I'm not jealous. I guess what made me feel worse about those fans was their confidence. How they had no fear of going to talk with you guys and being so direct to you. I wouldn't be able to do something like that. Not in the state I'm in at the moment".

"You don't need to. Because I chose you a while ago. And I keep choosing you every day".

"But you didn't know all these issues were included in the package when you chose me. What if it gets too much for you? I don't want you to feel like you have to baby me".

"I'm not. I'm just looking after you like you look after me. Can you just let me do it? Let me look after you, please".

"Does looking after me include cuddles and watching my favourite movies while we eat ice cream?"

"Of course it does".

"Then count me in".

#julian alvarez #julián álvarez #julian alvarez imagine #julian alvarez one shot #julian alvarez x reader #julian alvarez x y/n #julian alvarez fluff #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer one fluff #footballer x reader #footballer x yn

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morganski-19 · 1 month

Text

The One with the Late Night

Argyle walks into the kitchen to get a drink, eyes fighting to stay open. The small lamp is clicked on next to the couch. Jonathan sitting there with his legs crossed, laptop resting on his legs. He should be asleep but isn’t. Never is. Argyle places his empty glass on the counter, his body finding its way to the couch. Flopping down next to Jonathan.

“It’s like four in the morning,” he mumbles out.

Jonathan rubs at his eyes. “I know.”

“One of those nights?”

He nods, “One of those weeks.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Argyle pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over himself.

“I knew you had a busy week this week, didn’t need you staying up with me every day.” Jonathan messes with the photo he’s editing, trying to fix the lighting.

Argyle yawns. “So, what if I have a few extra shifts than normal. Doesn’t mean I can’t do something nice for my best friend,” he gently pushes Jonathan’s arm.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to, that’s all.” Jonathan yawns, body relaxing further back into the couch.

“Ha, five minutes with me and you’re already half asleep. It’s working.”

Jonathan looks at Argyle. “What’s working?”

“My glorious presence, that’s what.”

“Whatever,” he snorts. “One yawn means nothing, I yawn all the time.”

Argyle shrugs, leaning over to see what Jonathan’s working on. Practically leaning on him. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t cause it. What’re you working on?”

“Wedding I worked a few weeks ago. They’re mostly done, just some that need more fine tuning.”

“I like the background, it makes their dresses pop,” Argyle points to the bushes covered in flowers behind the couple.

Jonathan nods. “It’s actually where they got engaged. They wanted it to match the engagement photos I took for them.”

“That’s sweet. Speaking of sweet, guess what your mom told me when she called me today.”

“Why did my mom call you?” Jonathan turns toward Argyle again after saving and shutting his laptop.

Argyle scoffs. “Because your mom loves me, duh. Said your families going to come up next week for a visit. I offered to let them stay here but they refused, as always.”

Jonathan sinks further into the couch, leaning towards Argyle. Yawning again. Argyle fixes the blanket so they can share.

“It’s almost like the forget we got the pull-out couch just so they could stay here.” Jonathan pulls the blanket up to his chin, eyes starting to droop.

Argyle’s not sure what does it, but every time he catches Jonathan staying up, he almost always falls asleep after talking a little bit. Sometimes he can’t, and they stay up for another hour. Or until Argyle falls asleep again and Jonathan stays up for longer than he’ll admit. But most of the time, it just takes another person in the room to get him to go to sleep. Or really, another person next to him. Still doesn’t help him until the after-midnight hours. But it’s something.

“Yeah. And that you could bunk out in my room to give them another bed. Be like college all over again.”

Jonathan snorts. “And deal with your snoring, no chance. Best part about not sharing a room with you anymore.”

“Oh, come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“The neighbors complained to me one time. Told them I’d tape your mouth shut.”

Argyle laughs. “Like you’re any better. When you’re out, you’re out. Snoring and all. And it’s not quiet.”

Jonathan’s head falls on Argyle’s shoulder. “You could’ve woken me up if it was too loud,” he slurs out.

“I’d never do that. I knew how little sleep you got back then, you deserved whatever you got.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan says with a deep exhale. “For always staying up with me. It makes it a little more bearable.”

Argyle looks down at Jonathan’s face, studying it. His eyes finally closed and breaths slowing down. It was a simple choice to stay up with him. When they got to be like this, and no one was around to tell them that it was weird or unusual. That two friends couldn’t just act like this without feeling anything.

Even if it made Argyle feel something he know he shouldn’t. Because the other person didn’t feel the same, and that was ok. But he could never stop himself from indulging in what he could get.

“It’s no problem. Do you want to head to bed? It’s better than the couch.”

It falls on deaf ears, Jonathan finally falling asleep. Argyle smiles softly. He gently stands, holding Jonathan up before laying him on the couch. Gets him in a better position so he can sleep more comfortably. Before heading off to his own room.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

#morgan's friends au #friends au #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #modern au #jargyle #pre relationship #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things

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kozmicxblues · 1 year

Text

1,000-word preview of a steddie fic I'd like to write soon (ideally after I've finished at least one of the WIPs I already have going 💀) where Steve is a firefighter/single father and he hires Eddie as a nanny to look after Dustin.

Eddie’s knee was bouncing under the table. He hasn’t been this nervous about a job interview in years. Hasn’t had a reason to be. But after two weeks of rejected applications, he was desperate. He needed this to work. Needed something long term. His savings had been enough to secure the first three months rent on his new apartment, but that wouldn’t last forever.

The man sitting across from him — Steve, it wouldn’t win him any points if he forgot the guy’s name — seemed completely unbothered. And why wouldn’t he be? The stakes weren’t nearly as catastrophic for him as they were for Eddie. He probably had a list of applicants, undoubtedly all more qualified for the job than Eddie, waiting to be called next. One of them might even be on their way to the coffee shop now, ready to step in when Eddie bombed.

If. If Eddie bombed.

Which you won’t, Chrissy’s voice in his head reminded him. You were practically made for this job.

Steve was looking over Eddie’s resume, his forehead pinched. Not that Eddie blamed him. It wasn’t exactly the kind of resume you turn in for a nanny position.

“You were a line cook at a diner for eleven years,” Steve observed.

“Yeah, back in my hometown.”

He’d worked at Benny’s so long, the man was practically family. He’d made it clear when Eddie left Hawkins that he’d always have a job waiting for him. But Eddie knew he could never take him up on the offer. He needed to make things work here.

“Why the change?” Steve asked. It was open-ended, whether he meant the change of location or change of career. Likely both.

“My ex got a promotion. Had to move cities, but it was a great offer. Couldn’t really turn it down. Wouldn’t expect her to. But the whole thing happened pretty fast. I barely had time to find a place to stay before I moved out here.”

Eddie had definitely said something wrong, because the worried wrinkle on Steve’s forehead deepened.

“So you… Quit your job and moved out here… Because you’re following your ex…” Ah, yeah. Eddie definitely messed up that story. Now he just sounded like a stalker.

“We have a kid. I probably should’ve led with that.”

Eddie fumbled his phone out of his pocket to show Steve his background. It was one of his favorite photos of Max. It was taken on her seventh birthday. She sat in his lap and he had his arms wrapped around her to guide her hands on the mini guitar she’d gotten from Wayne.

“This is Max.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he pointed at the screen. “This is from a few years back. She just turned nine last month, so she’s not much older than your son.”

Steve studied the picture, the worry lines on his face smoothing out.

“We share custody, but she lives with Chrissy most of the year. So where Chrissy goes, Max goes.”

“And where Max goes, you go,” Steve finished. He was looking at Eddie, his gaze softer than it had been when they’d sat down. “I understand. I’d do the same for Dustin.”

Eddie let out a long, slow breath. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to relieve some of the tension.

“Yeah, so… I may not have a degree in child psychology or whatever, but I promise I know what I’m doing. Years of on-the-job training, you could call it. I’m good with kids. I know how to cook. I’ve had to deal with just about every child-related emergency there is, from losing a favorite toy to Legos stuck up the nose.”

That got a laugh out of Steve. He drummed his fingers on the table, attention back on Eddie’s resume.

“I’m a firefighter,” he said. “Which means I work twenty-four-hour shifts, two or three days a week. Shifts changeover at seven, which means you’d need to be at the house early so you could get Dustin to school. And you’d need to spend the night, obviously. We have a guest room that you could stay in.”

Steve paused, forehead pinched in thought again.

“I don’t know what your custody schedule is like, but Max is welcome to stay over when the days overlap. We have plenty of room. As long as you and her mom are comfortable with that.”

“Yeah, yes,” Eddie was quick to agree. “We can work something out.”

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

The question caught him off guard. He fumbled for a moment before answering.

“Uh, yeah. I should be.”

Steve was digging through the messenger bag beside him. He brought out a piece of paper and scribbled something across it.

“Come by around six.” He slid the paper to Eddie. It was a business card for some journalist, with Steve’s address scrawled on the back. “You can meet Dustin. See if it’s a good fit.”

Steve stood up and gathered his things. Eddie hurried to follow him.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?”

Steve smiled. It changed his whole face. Made it softer, more welcoming. Handsome, his brain supplied unhelpfully. Definitely had to lock that one away. Be professional. Remember your priorities, Eddie.

“Just yourself. And Max, if you want. She and Dustin are probably in the same grade. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve met already.”

“Right.” Eddie stood there with the business card in his hand. Clutching it like the lifeline it was. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not saying you have the job. Just… Let’s start with dinner, see where we go from there.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

Steve held out a hand to shake. When Eddie took it, he felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Steve said. He dropped Eddie’s hand and made his way out of the coffee shop. Eddie stood there for a minute longer, staring at the door Steve had disappeared through.

“See you tonight.”

#stranger things #steddie #steveddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #st fanfic #st fic #firefighter/nanny au #my fic

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retrointhenow · 1 year

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Match Maker II Lance Sweets X Reader

A/N : I think we need some more Lance Sweets fics around here, so this is my official attempt :))

Dr. Sweets could be anything he wanted. He could get you to do anything. Which is why you were a squint and not an Agent. Say the right thing to you and you do whatever was needed. Lance knew it.

"Y/n! Glad I caught you!" Sweets stopped you before entering Booth's office. "Hey Lance. What can I do for you?" You had a long-time crush on the shrink, you assumed he knew. Being a psychologist and all. "I have the files from the Alabama case analyzed. Mind delivering them to Brennan when you head back?" He flashed his pearly whites at you. "Of course! Anything for you." You lightly flirted. Normally you'd clam up around Sweets and make a complete fool of yourself, but today you must have had a newfound confidence. "A darling you are." He disappeared down the hall to his office. Your heart fluttered; he called you darling.

"You are so easy Y/n." Booth chuckled, peaking his head out of his office. You frowned and looked at the agent. "How so?" Booth motioned for you to enter his office, closing the glass door once you did. You took in his office, looking at the hockey photo behind his desk and the photos of Parker. "You fold at the sight of him. Your demeanor changes when he enters the room. It's amazing how you got through that short conversation with him." You face flushed then blushed instantly. "I won't say anything if you don't want me to. But Sweets is totally oblivious to you." He opened emails on his computer. You shook your head. "Sweets wouldn't. It's just a harmless crush. I'll get over it by the time the snow thaws." You shrugged and went to the door. "I might not be a psychologist, but I can pick up on body language, Sweets doesn't reciprocate." You held onto the file Sweets gave you earlier and headed to the Jeffersonian.

You swiped your key card to enter the forensics platform to hand Brennan the folder. "The smells never get easier, do they?" You asked to no one in particular. "Not really." Angela laughed and pulled up photos of magnified bone chips. You studied them for a few minutes before looking back at the skeleton of the table. You asked Angela to zoom into the shins. There was still a few bits of muscle and flesh covering the body. "That looks like shin splints does it not?" You asked Cam. "Yeah, it does. Good job Miss L/n." "I know a lot of girls in my high school got shin splints during track. Coming off winter sports or an off season. They're cause from overworking or changing their exercise routine." You smiled proudly. Brennan nodded and looked at the exposed bones. "Very well." You ran back and forth between the bone room and Hodgins's lab trying to solve this murder.

"Ah Mrs. Sweets. What can I do for you this time." Hodgins smirked looking into his microscope. "W-what?" You fumbled. "I uh brought you some soil samples found in the muscles." You shook it off. Maybe you just misheard him. He grabbed the empty Petri dish from you and ran it through his machines. "It's gonna take a few minutes. So, you and Sweets huh?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "I have no idea what you're talking about. There's nothing between us." You shifted uncomfortably. He nodded skeptically. His screen dinged with the results from the soils. "I'll leave you to your work." You quickly got away from the scientist.

"Alright squinty! Come on, Parker wants to see you." Booth ran into the bone room clapping his hand. You racked your mind for why Parker would wanna see you of all people. You're just a squintern. You only had a few real conversations with Parker when you first started at the Jeffersonian. He was a sweet kid, but he could be something else, either way you followed Booth to the Royal Diner.

"Y/n!" Parker ran up and hugged you. You hugged the young boy back and ruffled his hair. "Hey buddy!" Your smile quickly dropped when you saw Sweets sitting at the table. "What's he doing here?" You looked at Seeley panicking. Seeley threw his hands up in defense. "Parker invited him. Blame the kid not me." He slid into the seat next to Parker, forcing you to sit with Sweets. You may have mentioned to Parker that you had a slight crush on the shrink, but that was ages ago.

"Hey Y/n. Thank you again for running those papers for me." Sweets smiled. God you could have melted right there. "Oh yeah, of course." You chuckled and blushed. Seeley smirked. Go figure you couldn't have the confidence you did earlier when speaking to Lance.

"So, Dr. Sweets." Parker started. "Why doesn't my dad have a girlfriend yet." He asked innocently. You and Booth choked on your food / drink. You were laughing, Booth was embarrassed. "Parker!" Booth scolded. "Uh well. I think maybe you dad is just waiting for the right person to come along." Sweets tried not to offend Booth. He took it lightly. Parker smiled at you before asking Sweets, "Do you have a girlfriend?" Lance set his fork down and looked at the young boy. "I don't." You could have sworn he glanced at you. "Well, what about you Y/n? Do you have a boyfriend yet?" You took a deep breath. "No Parker I don't. The last one wasn't cool." You grimaced at the thought. A shit eating grin spread across his face; Seeley looked down proudly at his son. "So why don't you two get together then?" Sweets spit out his water and you turning a burning red.

"Well, uh I-" You started, completely flustered. You didn't imagine Parker trying to set you up or whatever. "Uhm, I think it would be a conflict of-" Lance started, focusing on you. "I can tell that Y/n likes you, and I think you like her too. I may be a kid, but I can definitely tell these things."

You and Sweets looked at each other for the first time during the outing. Your face still fiery red and his turning a light shade of pink. The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. You broke contact and looked back at Parker. "Yeah uh, respectfully, you're still just a kid Parker." You got up and hurried out of the Diner. Embarrassment flooded your whole body; you could not believe Parker. Sure, he was a kid, but he had no idea what he was doing.

"So, you just walked out?!" Angela shouted as you laid on her couch. "What was I supposed to do Ange? Admit that I like Sweets? No way." You laughed. You could imagine him turning you down and having to avoid him the rest of your life. "Sweetie, he smiled at you, that's gotta mean something." She played on the Angelatron.

You groaned and threw your hands over your face. "You know what it means? It means that Parker made me look like a fool and now Sweets has probably already done his shrink stuff on me and has made a pros and cons list. Let's face it. I have no realistic chance with someone as smart as Lance." "I beg to differ." You shot up as Sweets walked into Angela's room. He looked at her, asking her for a moment alone. She smiled at you and scurried out. "Don't- run out on me. Please." You bit down on your lip and avoided eye contact yet again. "What do you want?" You stood up and walked around the room. There was no way you were going to sit still. "Can we talk?" His eyes followed your body around the room. "Nothing to talk about." You deflected his questions. He analyzed your emotions and movements as you reacted to his questions.

"There's not need to be embarrassed or humiliated Y/n." "Not be embarrassed? Really? Parker basically outed me about my feelings about you. And you totally did your shrink shit." Your body shook with nervous energy. "I pray to my spirits and ghosts that you'd never have to find out. Because you know what's worse than you knowing? It's you rejecting me, and then I'd have to see you every day until one of us moves on or does something else. And I can't handle that." He grazed over to where you were standing and took your hands into his own, he tilted your head up to meet his eyes.

"Look at me." His voice was soft and sweet. You dragged your eyes to meet his. "I am not going to shrink you or make a list of pros and cons about you, you certainly don't have to pray to your supernatural spirits, and more importantly I'm not going to reject you." Your body relaxed as his arm held your body. Still tense in some parts, not completely believing in him yet. "What are you saying?" You voice was just above a whisper. Eyes flickering between his gorgeous eyes. His lips curled into a smile, and he leaned down to your height.

"What I'm saying, Y/n, is that I like you. That I want to give us a chance." His lips connected with yours. You could have stayed like that for forever. His hand cupped your cheek and the other remained on your waist. Your hand laid on his neck and your opposite held onto his bicep. The only thing that pulled you away was a sudden roar of applause. Everyone from the Jeffersonian squints team, Booth, and Parker were cheering.

"It's about time." Clark exclaimed. You all looked at him with amusement. "I pay attention and keep my thoughts to myself." He shrugged and went back to the forensic platform. Sweets wrapped his arm around your waist and smiled down at you. You smiled back at Parker and mouthed 'thank you', he was pretty good at playing match maker.

#bones #temperance brennan #Brennan bones #seeley booth #angela montenegro #jack hodgins #caroline julian #lance sweets #dr. sweets #dr. Lance sweets #bones imagines #bones one shots #lance sweets imagine #zack addy #camille saroyan #fbi #parker booth #clark edison #bones cw

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

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Bones and All - Chapter 1: Copper Fever

Eddie Munson/Reader Bones and All AU

Warnings: canon typical violence/gore, updated each chapter

Synopsis: What do you hunger for?

Author's Note: The first chapter of the fic is the setup, so Eddie will be introduced in the second chapter. This fic will make sense even if you haven’t seen the film/read the book. However, I have heavily used both the film and the novel by Camille DeAngelis (which are quite different btw). This fic is very much a love letter to those texts and if you’ve recently seen/read it then you’ll spot a lot of Easter eggs.

Chapter 1: Copper Fever 2453 words

The others were all so normal. They had youthful pimpled skin and homework deadlines and weekend plans. They suffered only growing pains and unfair curfews and parental expectations. Yes, some suffered cramps and dark alleys, and some a father’s belt or the mirror’s weight, but...

Empathy.

Empathy is what you wanted to feel. If not, then sympathy. Hell, you’d settle for apathy. Anything but the gnawing jealousy and constant migraine of loneliness.

You couldn’t take it anymore, retreating from the cafeteria out into the main building. The school was abuzz; end-of-year dances and graduation ceremonies had teenage hearts aflutter. And, if you could just keep your shit together for another month or so, you’d be joining your class in robes and diplomas.

Technically, it could have happened a lot sooner but with the way you and your mother moved around, some sacrifices had to be made. Real last names, for example. A legitimate learner’s permit. All normal adolescent rites of passage.

Through the hallways and into the library, there you sat. A twenty-year-old with someone else’s name, alone between the shelves of books.

A stack of paper slammed down in front of you suddenly.

“Are you a vampire or something?” Sherry asked as she sat on the floor opposite you.

“What?”

“Vampires hate having their photo taken. You’re not even in this, you know. Mr Essex kept telling you to go do it. Now it’s like you weren’t even here.”

You looked down at the papers, big red letters spelling out ‘yearbook – final draft’ on the top leaf.

“Yeah… sorry. Been busy,”

“Whatever. You’re coming tonight, right?”

“My mum will never let me,”

“So?” Sherry replied with a grin. “Just sneak out after she’s gone to bed.” She sensed your hesitation. “Just for a couple hours? Please? You’ve never come to a sleepover. We’re almost done with high school and I’ll be at Brown soon. This might be our last chance. Please?”

You looked at her. She smelled so good. Like the peaches she’d eaten at recess.

“Please,” she begged, stretching her hand out to take yours. So warm. Close.

“Yeah, okay,” you said quickly, taking your hand back and gathering your things. The faster you could leave, the better.

…

She’d never get used to it. The sight of you dazed and dripping blood down your shirt was forever etched into the darkness behind her eyelids.

“You didn’t… In the car in three minutes. Whatever you can take in three minutes,” your mother instructed, her voice a pained mix of panic and grief.

You walked to the bathroom and looked at your reflection. Blood.

Blood.

Your mother yelled your name, then, “Move! When the cops get here, we have to be good and gone.”

The sleepover had started well. Sneaking out was easy enough and Sheree’s friends were nice. It was comfortable. Normal. Nail polish and warm beer. Skirts made of tinsel and cheese pizza.

You had been laying on the shag rug in Sherry’s room. Kim, a Junior you hadn’t really met before, was next to you. She was kind, told you that her father had skipped out on her too.

“Try this,” Sherry said, painting Kim’s nails. “It’s called Copper Fever.”

Kim studied her hand. “It’s too orange,” she concluded, then stuck her hand in your face. “What do you think?”

Innocently, you’d held her hand and looked at the colour. It was too orange… or not orange enough. You breathed in the acidic smell of the polish, but it faded fast and all that was left was Kim.

You bit down so hard that when the other girls pulled you away, your teeth had degloved Kim’s finger entirely.

In the bathroom, your mother grabbed hold of your shoulders and shook you back into the moment. “Did you hear me? We have to go.”

…

The cockroach appeared from under the refrigerator. As it scurried around, you watched it. The hunger deep in you was a living creature, and even the small dirty thing mapping the kitchen floor made the creature growl.

It had been three days since your mother left you.

Two months after the sleepover, you thought everything was going okay. Then you woke to find yourself completely and utterly alone. She had not taken all her things, only the things that she loved most. And you had been left behind.

There was a folded piece of paper and an envelope on the kitchen table you had yet to open. The contents of the letter were predictable, as was the pain it would inflict. Instead, you had haunted the house. You had wailed and sobbed. You had broken glass and locks. You had sat motionless for hours on end.

When the cockroach made his kitchen debut, you were reminded of the hunger. You were reminded of who and what you were.

Picking up the envelope, you found it unsealed. Inside was cash and a certificate of live birth. The only piece of proof you were real and not an imaginary monster living in the storybooks of a child.

The letter began with your name.

You’re not going to see me again. I can’t help you anymore. I can’t turn you in to the cops. I can’t do anything someone like me would do in a situation like this. So, I have to go.

The first time it happened, you were three-years-old-

You stopped reading, folding the letter, and putting it in the envelope with the cash and birth certificate.

All your belongings fitted into one backpack. When it was full, you put on the jacket your mum left behind and headed out the door.

You had known the day would come when she would leave. There was only so much horror she could take. You knew she’d leave you a letter and some money. She wouldn’t say goodbye. The jacket was a surprise though. Your dad was its first owner, and your mother wore it like a widow’s veil. She was leaving you both behind, you thought. But you, you were moving forward. Toward your father.

…

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” the woman at the bus station asked.

“You’d think,” you replied dismissively.

“I don’t know what that means,”

“It means I’m twenty-years-old and I can buy a ticket if I want.”

The greyhound could take you part of the way, the rest would have to be hitching. The bus was old, cramped, and smelt stale. Sometimes prone to motion sickness, you felt queasy. To take your mind off it, you pulled the letter out and picked up where you left off.

Her name was Penny Wilson. I thought it must have been a satanic cult. All that gore. I was so scared they’d taken you and done unspeakable things. But then I found you in your crib, sound asleep. The blood was dried up on your face. I still didn’t see it though. I didn’t understand until I fished out of your mouth something you were chewing on. It was the hammer of Penny’s eardrum. It’s a small bone. The malleus. I looked it up. You were sucking on it like it was a pacifier. I knew then. I knew what you were.

The letter was rich with information. Succulent and filling. You could only read it a paragraph at a time before you felt too full, verging on ill.

The town you’d arrived in that morning was new to you, but the address circled on the torn-out page of a phone book was seared into your memory. Years ago, your mother got sloppy and left a Christmas card from her parents out on the kitchen table. It had a return address and you’d never forgotten it. She hurried to rip up the envelope and throw it away before you could get your grubby hands on it but it was too late.

You sat on the curb behind a car down the street a little. It was the right place because your mum’s car was parked out front. When she couldn’t parent, she returned to hers. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you burned with shame. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t ask to birth a creature like you. She wanted to be like the other mothers, playing with their children and cooking wholesome meals. But it wasn’t a dinner she served you each night, it was a sacrifice.

The walk back to the bus stop was lonely, but part of you felt relieved. If you couldn’t do it – be out on your own – you could always go back there and beg to be loved.

The Lord of the Rings kept you company while you waited. It would be hours before the next greyhound came through. If you finished Tolkien for the hundredth time, there were other adventures awaiting in your backpack.

“Well hello, little missy,” a strange voice announced themselves.

You startled, couldn’t place the sound until a figure emerged from the shadow of the building next to you. The man wasn’t smiling, but he looked at you with familiarity.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he offered.

“Do I know you?” you asked although you knew the answer.

“I guess not in the way you mean… I smelled you…”

He wore a suit jacket covered in pins, badges, and other things tacked to it. The top of his hair was neatly cut, but a long rat’s tail of a braid curled around his neck. His left ear looked mangled, the top entirely gone, which reminded you of an alley cat scrapping with the others to get his feed.

“You hungry?”

Before you could think, you were nodding. The stranger turned and began to walk up the road, throwing a look over his shoulder to see you apprehensively following him.

“I got rules. One, number one: never, never eat an eater… Think you can do the same?”

You nodded and took his invitation into a grand old house, marked 400 by a sign out front. Inside it was dark but homely. Floral wallpaper and a sign that read ‘bless this house and everyone in it.’

The stranger began to pull things from the fridge and cupboards in the kitchen. Sitting at the small kitchen table, you watched.

“You got a name, missy? I’m Sully. Life’s never dully with Sully!”

His accent was strange. It wasn’t that you’d not heard someone like him, maybe from rural West Virginia, it was that he spoke about himself like he was two people.

“You don’t got to worry about Sully. He never eats ‘em live,” he told you.

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted.

“Not lots. More than you think…”

Sully told you that you’d probably come across other eaters. They would have given you a funny look or earned a double-take from you. Maybe you’d misread them as being creepy. He also warned you from seeking them out, though. When you commented on the hypocrisy of him inviting you into house number 400, he shot you a look that was equal parts disturbed and lonely.

“Tell me about your first time,” Sully requested.

You realised then that you remembered more about Penny Wilson than you had thought. Sully saw the guilt on your face, telling you, “Can’t help what you are, miss.”

That’s when he retrieved his satchel bag and pulled something wrapped in muslin cloth. You stayed silent as he presented a rope made of braids of hair. It was a rainbow of human life and death. Sully told you it’s how he honoured the eaten. You didn’t know something could be so grotesque and so beautiful at the same time.

You were touching the rope when you asked, “You said you could smell me?”

Eaters can smell eaters. And Sully, well he was extra special. He said he could smell dying. That’s how he avoided killing. He stalked people with numbered days. Your blood ran cold.

“Sully… Whose house is this?”

Suddenly details came into focus. The photographs on the wall. The homemade carrot cake sitting in a Tupperware container.

“Lydia Harmon,” he said with definity. “Can’t you smell her?”

Upstairs, after a fucked up game of hotter-colder, the smell of cooked vinegar and tangy mud lead you to Lydia. She was old, well into her late 80s. She laid on the floor of her bedroom, shallow breaths ready to cease at any moment. Thankfully, she was beyond consciousness.

“We have to help her,” you said.

“It’s gone by, that point… And whatever you and I got, it’s gotta be fed. And if the circumstances are good and if they’re safe… then eat!”

You didn’t move.

“Sully don’t eat the livin’… That just leaves this…” he told you.

You took the spare room and waited for Lydia Harmon to die. Sully told you that you’d be able to smell it happen. You were horrified to discover he was right.

Sully had stripped down to his dirty white underpants. His head was deep in Lydia’s belly and her head was almost entirely gone already. The sounds. Did you make those sounds? Is this what you looked like in the daylight?

You ate and ate and ate until all that was left of her was a pile of bones, some chewed on. Sully said he always ate the hair and nails and bones if he could. Said it was a sign of respect. He put the leftovers in a plastic bag as you licked the floorboards clean.

…

Sully made coffee and began to consume the carrot cake left in the kitchen. Flies had found their way inside the house and were sticking to the blood and gore that covered your faces and chests.

“It’s not hard once someone teaches you,” Sully told you about being out in the world. “You don’t need to be alone.”

That was the thing though. Maybe it was self-punishment. Maybe even a form of self-harm. You deserved to be alone. Deserved to suffer hunger and cold and isolation. You were a monster.

The flies that crawled over Sully’s face, forcing their way into his nostrils and mouth, didn’t seem to annoy him. There was a deadly stillness deep in the man. Lydia’s hair became part of the braided rope and you felt the danger screaming at you.

As soon as Sully excused himself to shower, you cleaned off in the powder room’s sink and fled the house.

On the next greyhound out of town, you went over all the information Sully had given you. How much of it was truth and how much fiction? Maybe that’s how stories start though. We tell them about ourselves like they aren’t the truth because that’s the only way anybody is going to believe them.

Next Chapter: coming soon

End Note: What do we think?! Are we excited about this?! I'm absolutely FERAL about it. I've seen it in the cinema twice so I could take notes, and I'm re-reading the book and taking notes. It's going to be so jam-packed with text-details. Yewwww.

Fic Taglist: @harrys-tittie @azydrateanatomy

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Reader Insert #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x You #Bones and All #Bones and All AU

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toad-bread · 1 year

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‘Shouldn’t Have Said Yes’

Paring- Enhypen Heeseung x Female Reader

Summary- You and Heeseung are fighting over a restroom(?) Warnings- mentions of using the word ‘friend’ a lot, mentions of consuming alcohol, Heesung being cocky, reader is blunt, mentions of Enhypen Sunoo Edit: I HATE THIS SO MUCH. This was in my drafts, I don’t know what I was honestly writing about. It ok cuz at least it’s something.

Wc- 793

“Bold of you to assume I would say yes to something like that.” Rejecting your friend’s offer to go with her to a party. “Why not! You have to get out and have fun some how.” She huffed, while flipping through your homework you were doing. “Don’t touch that, and no, I do have fun. When I pass my exams.” You mumbled. Your friend whined and kept on bugging you to go with her. Unfortunately you had enough her her antics, so she won. Slamming your hands down you looked at her while rolling your eyes. “Fine!” She jumped at your sudden outburst and blinked her eyes. “What?” You groaned, “I’ll come to this stupid party or whatever. Just so you know, I’m leaving whenever I want. Do you understand?” Your friend smiled at you and started to tell you about what to wear and what to look out for. “This guy is Sunoo, he is a walking sunshine!” She pointed at the photo she took, she somehow got. “Yeah, yeah, what’s the point of this again?” “These are the popular guys on campus. I would do anything to talk or be next to them.” She babbled. “Oh, never saw him before.” You pointed out while staring at Sunoo’s face. She gasped at you, “What do you mean you never saw him before? Do you ever have fun?” You glared at her. “Well sorry I’m not full of sunshine and rainbows.” Huffing at her you started to pack up your things. “Well I better get going. I’m getting tired by looking at these photos.” Before you can stuff your laptop in your bag, your friend grabbed your wrist. “Wait! Please let me show you one more photo, pretty please?” She begged. “Oh my gosh, fine!” She squealed at you and swiped her phone to a photo before showing you. “Here is the ace-“ “Heeseung.” “Yeah- you know him?” You grabbed her phone and pointed at him. “This- this guy is that stupid person who keeps on beating me in test scores.” “I’m pretty sure he is cold but he seems pretty okay.” “He is annoying and cocky, can’t believe women swoon up to him.” Dropping her phone you packed your laptop and the last remaining things you have. “If I see him at the party I’m going to beat his guts.” You yelled while walking away from your study area. While your friend was debating if you were actually going to beat him up.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Your friend joked. “Yes, what’s wrong with wearing a jacket?” “It’s going to be hot in there.” “I don’t want people to look at my skin.” You muttered while zipping up your jacket. “It’s not like people are like that.” “I’ll take off my jacket at the party for a bit, how about that?” You questioned. She just nodded and pulled you to go to the party. “The hell, it smells like sweat and alcohol.” You yelled through the music. She just laughed at you while dragging you to the kitchen. “Oh please, it’s supposed to be like that Y/n!” She yelled back. “Here, you can pour your own drink if you want.” You nodded, you just grabbed what looks good to you. Turning around you saw your friend talking to Sunoo. Walking up to them you said hello. “This is Y/n! She is my friend.” Your friend smiled at him. “Hey, I’m Sunoo.” “I know.” Sunoo just smiled at you and continued to talk to your friend. You decided to go to the restroom since you drank a lot. Seeing the restroom, you walked to the door until someone pushed you. “Hey- you!” You called. The person turned around and smirked at you. “Hey Y/n, didn’t know you go to parties-” “I don’t and I got here first. You don’t push people to go to the restroom Heeseung.” You argued. He just chuckled at you and patted your head. “Your cute when your angry.” “Ohh so you think I’m cute when I’m angry? Well get ready because I’m about to be gorgeous.” You sneered. Heesung stopped patting your head and held his hands up. “Feisty one aren’t you?” “I can’t stand you.” “You can, hang out with me.” He smirked. “You have your entire life to be a jerk. Why not take today off?” He laughed at your words. “I can for you, if you hang out with me.” “Your impossible to back down.” You snarled. “Fine, I’m only doing this because this house apparently has one stupid restroom.” Pushing him away you entered the bathroom. Locking the door you sat on the toilet seat and breathed in and out. Tch. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone to the party.”

#enhypen imagines #enhypen x female reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung #enhypen scenarios

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scullysexual · 1 year

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Spooky Mulder's UFO Club (3)

After losing a bet, Scully is forced to join Spooky Mulder’s UFO Club. (actually it’s called The Study of Unexplained Phenomena Project, and it’s a class not a club, but whatever) Ridiculed throughout the school by students and staff alike, Scully wants to get it over with as soon as she can and come “back down to earth” when a class trip up to Alaska, to do their own investigations into the mysterious deaths of four hikers, finds them stranded with an unknown virus wreaking havoc and a woods that becomes its own entity at night, Scully realises this dumb little class packs a lot more horror than she bargained for.

Chapter Two | AO3 | @today-in-fic

---

Chapter Three: Four Hikers Go Up A Mountain.

The telephone rings when he’s putting his shoes on.

“Will someone answer that?!” his mother calls down from upstairs.

Mulder glances at Samantha, who eyes stay glued to the TV screen, unmoving. He huffs a sigh, walking towards the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mulder, it’s me.”

Mulder immediately lights up at the sound of the familiar voice.

“Hey Scully,” he says in the most normal voice he can muster. Outwardly, he’s trying for a Oh, it’s just you kind of feel but inside he’s ecstatic. Why is Scully ringing him?

“Hey, so I was thinking more about that case we were looking at last week…”

“Oh yeah?”

“I found something else. Could you stop by and pick me up? I’d love to show you before school.”

Scully wants him to pick her up. Mulder could barely keep the joy from his voice.

“Sure. Love to see it. I’ll see you in about 15 minutes?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

The dial tone sounds and Mulder sags against the wall, still clutching the phone, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Was that your girlfriend?” Samantha asks, sticking her head out of living room.

Mulder regains his composure, coughing and placing the phone down.

“Just a friend. Grab your stuff, we’re going.”

He gets rid of Sam as soon as possible. When she’s gone, he switches tapes around, letting Elvis’ voice fill the car as he makes the drive over to Scully’s house, humming along to the lyrics as he goes. He’d been here once before after taking her home that Friday. They hadn’t spoken much on the drive home, he had so much he wanted to say but Scully had looked away, eyes glued on the houses outside as they drove past. There had been a nervous energy to her, one he concluded had to do with his request for her the join T-soup. It was a dumb request he had no business asking, someone like her didn’t bother with someone like him. She had once, though, that Geography project that actually made him like geography, how he’d listened to her reel off facts about that mountain, so incredibly smart even at the age of 12. He needed that in this class, someone who didn’t throw out more crazy ideas like the Lone Gunmen, or someone who didn’t just agree with him straight off the bat like Harrison. He wanted debate. He wanted to work for his answer. He wanted Scully.

Then Monday had rolled around and somehow every one knew of his request, some dumb stoner kid probably said something, then he’d heard the first mention of Mrs Spooky, listened as Colton made that same dumb joke every chance he got. Mulder could deal with the insults, the looks, the names but he wouldn’t let that same fate befall somebody else, especially not Scully. So he offered her an out but she didn’t take it. I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into Scully, he thinks as she exits her house holding a briefcase.

She smiles when she sees him and he smiles back. Her smile was contagious, has anyone ever told her that.

“So what have you got?” Mulder asks as he pulls out.

“Bugs,” she answers simply.

“Bugs?”

She drops a photo in his lap and he quickly glances down.

“They look like fireflies.”

“They’re bioluminescent like fireflies but they’re not fireflies, I don’t know what they are, but an ecologist called Douglas Spinney seems to think they have something to do with those loggers that disappeared.”

Mulder pulls into the school parking lot, he switches off the engine and picks up the photo still in his lap.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“It’s possible,” she answers. “I don’t know how a group of bugs could do that, though…” She drops another photo in his lap.

“Is that a…person?”

“A man according to the report. Wrapped up in what appears to be a spider’s web but I don’t believe there’s any arachnid here or anywhere in the world that’s big enough to haul a fully grown man up into a tree.”

Mulder stares at the web photo, and the bug one, deep in thought.

“Where did you get these, Scully?”

“The Internet. It’s actually amazing what you find on there if you go looking hard enough.”

Mulder hums in agreement. Then he gathers up the photos and gives them back to her. “Nice work, we’ll show Skinner in class tonight.” Something outside her window catches his attention. A boy walking a head of his group of friends, coming right towards Mulder’s car. “Uh…looks like the posse is here.” Scully looks out of the window, seeing the same thing Mulder does and immediately starts to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“Hey before you go,” his hand catches her wrist and Scully looks down. “Could you meet me in the library at lunch?”

“Yeah, I’ll try.” She looks down at her wrist again and Mulder follows, realising he is holding her. He quickly pulls his hand away.

“See you then,” he says as she climbs out just as Ethan reaches them.

Mulder sinks down into his seat, hoping he’d go unnoticed by the group. He watches Ethan’s mouth descend upon Scully’s and feels a surge of unexplained jealously whirl in his stomach as the two walk off.

“What you doing getting a lift from Spooky?” Ethan asks. Scully is too far away for Mulder to hear her answer.

Something on the dashboard catches his eye and he sees the photos Scully didn’t have time to stuff into her briefcase before leaving. He gathers them up, placing them in his pocket, hoping to give them back to her at lunch.

Ethan wouldn’t let her out of his sights all day it seemed. Her lift to school from Mulder had ruffled his feathers and his public display of affection in the parking lot this morning had more to do with territory than it had with affection. She is mine, he was saying to Mulder. I get to kiss her and touch her and hold her hand, you’re just a nobody.

Scully manages to sneak away near the end of lunch and heads towards the library. Mulder’s already there, sat at the computer, typing away.

“Hey, sorry I’m late, the lunch line was long today,” she says, sitting down in the chair next to his.

“That’s okay, you’re here now.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a package. “I got you a sandwich.”

She smiles at the gesture, taking it and tucking it away into her own bag then she nods towards the screen. “So why are we here?”

“You’re Internet idea got me thinking. Skinner often uses old school methods of looking for cases for us to talk about- usually headlines and the like- but he can only get his hand on so many. This should open us up to more interesting ones and I’ve already found one I think you’re gonna like.”

He opens up a window he had minimised. It’s an old article written in the 50s. Scully reads as Mulder explains.

“A group of hikers went up a mountain. Everything was fine until the third day. When they didn’t make it home for their estimated date, nor any time after, officials went up there looking. They found four dead bodies, a ripped tent, and missing eyeballs.” Scully does a double take at that last part. “And you’ll never guess where.”

“Bashful Peak,” she says, reading it on the screen.

He presses print on the screen and a printer nearby starts to whirl. “I’m gonna show it to Skinner tonight,” he says standing up to grab the article. “We don’t do field trips, not unless they’re local, but there’s something about this mountain, Scully, something spooky. I wanna go up there.”

“You want to go up to Alaska?”

“It’s a UFO hotspot for one,” Mulder explains. “And it’s a great case, if you just read it—”

“Mr Kersh won’t allow this, you know that,” says Skinner.

“What Kersh doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” counters Mulder.

“Mulder…”

“Hey.” Scully feels something knock into her elbow. She turns to find Frohike trying to get her attention. “Let’s see that article.” Scully passes her own article of the case to Frohike and turns back to Skinner and Mulder’s conversation.

“How are we even going to get up there? With what money?”

“Let me read that,” Scully hears Monica say behind her.

Mulder shrugs. “Surely we have some kind of budget?”

“For local trips around town, not a flight out to Alaska and then a trip to a mountain.” Skinner sighs, handing the article back to Mulder. “I’m sorry Mulder, the case seems interesting, but I can’t allow it.”

Facing defeat, Mulder sits back down next to Scully. She glances a hand on his shoulder and smiles sadly.

“You tried,” she says.

“Yeah…”

“Right then,” Skinner starts, turning his attention to the corkboard behind him. “Anyone got any theories as to what happened to those loggers?”

“I think my dad knows somebody who could fly us up there,” Monica chirps from the back. Mulder’s attention is immediately grabbed.

“Who?” he asks.

“Seriously?” asks Langly at the same time.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him tonight, see if he can hook us up.”

Scully turns back to Mulder, a big smile on her face. Skinner taps the board.

“Loggers,” he says.

Scully turns to Monica. “Thanks.”

Monica smiles broadly back.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #smufoc #scullysexualwrites

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baura-bear · 7 months

Note

HEY POOKIE !!!!! HOW ARE YOU!!! HOPE YOU'RE FEELING BETTER!!! here's some vigilante david javid i wrote for you. it's kind of sloppy but also what david experiences is a big part of the idea in itself sooo!!! also yeah his superhero name is desmodus which I KNOW is lame but its origin is the latin name for vampire bat so. yeah. :3

David groaned, slouching further over his desk, eventually slamming his head on its surface and closing his eyes. He felt miserable.

He was just trying to sketch out some upgrades for his suit (if it could even be called that, considering it was just a normal outfit with a few quirks), and he ended up wallowing in his anxieties.

He straightened his back, running a hand through his hair as he sighed and looked at his room's ceiling, spinning on his chair. He felt miserable and he was a loser. And because he was a loser.

As David looked over at the corkboard above his desk, at the plenty of photos of himself and his friends, mostly Jack, he felt even worse. Because David Jacobs was a sore loser, and Desmodus was a cool badass. And he felt like Jack liked his vigilante persona more than actual David.

It was irrational--they've been friends for pretty much their whole lives, they've been through a lot, and yet, for whatever dumb reason, David was slowly growing sure that Jack didn't like him that much. He felt boring, too boring for Jack.

And it's not like Jack gushed about David's secret persona daily or something, but still, the one-off mentions about how cool he wasbor whatever were enough for David to gradually become paranoid. Plus, on the occasions that he ran into Jack while in disguise, Jack did seem pretty smitten.

How could David not feel miserable? He's been in love with Jack to the point of no return, just for Jack to have a crush on some guy running around in a gas mask? Not just any guy, either, but David. He could only imagine Jack's disappointment until finding out who really was under that mask.

David decided to sleep the sorrow off. He stood up and quickly toppled over to his bed, but of course, instead of actually sleeping, he just started doomscrolling on his phone, watching some stupid videos, anything to turn his brain off for a moment.

Just when his eyelids actually started getting heavy, someone suddenly barged into his room, startling him. He sat up and looked over at whoever was standing in the doorway, and it was Jack. Of course.

"What are you doing here?" David asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

Jack scrunched his eyebrows right back at David, throwing his backpack on the floor already. "What d'you mean? It's Saturday."

"Oh. It is?"

"Yeah."

Right. David forgot that it was Saturday, and as such, he forgot that Jack always came over for the night.

David didn't bother moving, and instead he just moved to the side a little, giving Jack more room, which he quickly occupied by lying down next to his friend.

Jack, hands at the back of his head, sighed contentedly, closing his eyes for a moment as he relaxed. That let David inspect the boy's face, and that was one of his favorite activities ever, even though he memorized everything so well.

"You seem kinda sad," Jack noticed, only now opening his eyes and turning his head to look at David, who didn't stop shamelessly checking Jack out, currently studying the curve of his eyebrows.

David shrugged. He couldn't tell Jack anyway, so he didn't bother.

"Awh, c'mon," Jack ushered, rolling himself closer to David, arms lazily wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer. "What's goin' on, Davey?"

David groaned, shaking his head, refusing to speak, though the embrace was obviously very welcome. He hugged Jack's torso, burying his face in his neck, or rather the fabric of his hoodie, and he closed his eyes.

A couple of seconds passed by like that, Jack patiently waiting, caressing David's back. "So you ain't gonna tell me?" he asked finally, but he didn't move.

"No." A firm answer, and Jack knew better than to pry at it.

"Alright. If you change your mind..." Jack offered still.

"I know." And David also knew, remembered that Jack cared about him. All of a sudden his worries seemed silly in retrospect, and even if just for now, David felt okay. He would offer Jack some leftovers in a minute, but he was silent, wanting to stay like that for a minute or two more.

HAIIIII DAV E!!! I am feeling better in terms of COVID!! Still a little funky in the head though but that’s normal! I hope you’re doing well!!! You’ve been pumping out so much great art??!!!! Writing and drawing included

I’m always so happy when you share with me :’)

David is so silly!!!! Of course Jack likes him silly silly boy (Desmodus is cool because Davey is cool obviously 🙄) hehe I love these two boys so much i wanna see Jack interact with desmodus cause I just know he thinks that’s the coolest shit ever omg

#thank you for sharing it makes me so happy #ftm-megamind #asks

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avrmee · 5 days

Text

Hiiii guys here is some more info about my blog and me. Mostly the blog

MEEEEEE

I am 20

I study actuarial Science

I grew up in South Africa

My mom is German/Austrian and my dad is South African/Russian (I'm whiter than white. That's what my friends say because I'm pale and I am mostly European)

My favourite colours are green, brown and Black (don't even start with the black is a shade... NO)

I am bisexual

I have 2 cats named Fiona and Shrek because Shrek is my favourite movie and why not

I have a total of 15 tattoos but like 10 of them are small and 5 of them are pretty big so yeah

I only have 3 piercings (ears and nose)

My dad used to be in the military but sadly passed away during a mission or whatever you call it 3 months ago.

I was a MASSIVE daddy's girl

My birthday is 19 February

If you want to know more about me then you can ask I don't mind ♡

BLOGGGGG

What I'll write...

Pretty much anything except very graphic rape scenes, murder ect.

I do write smut but I'm not THE BEST but I am working on it

I will do stepcest but not alot of it

I will write any form of self harm, sexual assault, drug abuse ect but like I said not too graphic and there will be a trigger warning

FLUFFFF

angst. But I will need my trusted sad ass playlist so yeah

I will do daddy and mommy kink but you know I don't really float in that boat except for mommy but yeah I called my dad daddy & dadda as a kid until now

You HAVE to give me scenarios to write from. It could be videos or photo or prompts but please don't give me just "can you write something for ______ x reader" please no I'm not that creative

Who I'll write for...

Keep in mind that I will add to this and if you want me to write for someone that isn't on this list then you can still request something about them💗

Youtubers/streamers;;;

Blarg

Smii7y

Grizzy

Pezzy

Puffer

Soup

Thedooo

Mcnasty

Actors;;;

Norman Reedus (MY MANNNNN 🧎‍♀️😫)

Andrew Lincoln

Sebastian Stan

Robert Downey Jr

Alan Rickman

Chandler Riggs

Chris Evans

Danai Gurira

Christian Serratos

Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Arists;;;

BILLIE EILISH (my wife, the women that made me realize I like womannnn)

the walking dead characters;;;

Daryl Dixon (DUH)

Rick Grimes

Maggie Greene

Rosita Espinosa (my pookie)

Carl Grimes

Carol Peletier (SHE IS MOTHER, ARGUE WITH THE WALL)

Negan

Glenn (sometimes)

Ect.

I ALSO DO COD CHARACTERS SO FEEL FREE TO REQUEST THEM TOO

I WILL ADD TO THE LIST LATER ONN BUT FOR NOW THIS IS ITT

If the character or person you want is not on here still feel free to request something about them 💗

I won't do the request in one day so please be patient because what I study is genuinely a pain in my ass but I will try and post as soon as possible lovies 💗💗

#blargxreader #blargmyshnoople #blarg #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #norman reedus #rick grimes #andrew lincoln #rosita espinosa

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banannabethchase · 2 months

Text

Jurassic Sanctuary

Chapter 4: Adam - also on AO3

Adam gets stuck with the whiner that calls himself The Cleaner, and decides the basement is where the philosophical prick can have the most fun while they avoid getting stuck outside in a storm.

Adam

“This is the stupidest idea anyone’s ever had, for the record.” He stares at this Cleaner weirdo and folds his arms. “Why did y’all even come here? For the bit or something? Doing it for the vine?”

“Vine has been dead for years,” Cleaner says. The hair flip suggests to Adam he’s rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t give a shit. “We’re all about TikTok and other longer short form media.”

“Longer short – do you hear yourself?” Adam’s about to walk out of the entire place to give Tony a piece of his mind. “Fuck. You privileged pricks…I can’t believe Tony let you in here.”

Cleaner pulls his sunglasses down. “I cordially invite you to go fuck yourself, sir,” he says, almost pleasantly. “I’ll have you know I’m a theoretical expert on the philosophy of life and behavior.”

“And I’ll have you know I have a bachelor’s degree in communications which means jack shit next to actual experience.” He rolls his eyes. “What the fuck do you even want with this place? Huh? You can’t record any of the animals. I won’t let you.”

“It’s an experience,” Cleaner says. “Let me experience it.”

Grumbling, Adam stomps toward the door. “I’ll show you an experience,” he grumbles. He punches the button to the elevator. “Get over here. I’ll show you the science lab.” He catches Willow staring at him, rolling her eyes, almost, and he shrugs.

Cleaner frowns, somehow looking pathetic. “I wanted to see real dinosaurs.”

“Yeah?” Adam asks. “Well, right now you’re getting a view of the fuckin’ genetics rooms. Plus, you don’t want to be out there. It’s going to storm.”

“It was calm the whole way over here.”

Adam scoffs. “I’ve been watching the animals for days – they’ve been nesting. Mark my words, we’ll be running into a massive storm, and soon.”

“It’s not in the forecast,” Cleaner says, scrolling his phone.

“Fuckin’ – you better not take a single goddamned photo,” Adam snarls. “Or call anybody. This island is remote with maximum security for a reason.” He takes a step toward Cleaner. “You put my animals in danger and I’ll kick your ass.”

“God, man, chill out,” Cleaner scoffs. He claps Adam on the shoulder. “Let’s go see some test tubes.”

Adam resists the urge to strangle this guy with his own stupid scarf or whatever. “The fact that I’m forced to do what you want me to do infuriates me.”

“The fact that I got stuck with you and not one of the Creature Creators or whatever the fuck infuriates me,” Cleaner says back. He still looks casual as all hell. Adam wants to break it. “They single? I’d love to hop on one of those.”

Adam has to rescan his eyes to enter the lab twice because he kept rolling his eyes. “One is, the other is about to have a baby with his husband.” He opens the door. “Look. Cool shit.”

“These are test tubes,” Cleaner says, frowning. “And, like, weird petri dishes.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “If you’re so into the philosophy of life and whatever, you should be into the gene splicing making the dinosaurs possible.”

Cleaner seems to settle a little. “Okay,” he says, almost quiet.

Adam hangs back, watching as Cleaner studies the info boards next to every station. Adam’s not the one who designs anything in here. That’s mostly left to Claudio and his team. But he will be meeting these guys in a few months – years, for some species – when they’re grown into full dinosaurs. He wonders if this is how it feels to show an ultrasound to a stranger. Hi, these are my almost children. Aren’t their beginning cell clumps cute?

He kicks at a trash can.

“Do they mostly hatch out of eggs?” Cleaner asks, turning toward Adam. “Or is it, like, live births?” He frowns. “Wait, do they develop in the – here?”

Adam nods. “Some of them, at least. A few develop into eggs. I gotta be honest, I work with ‘em when they’re fully baked.” He shrugs. “This isn’t really my wheelhouse.”

Cleaner groans. “Oh, my god, so I’m not even getting a real tour?”

“Fucking – stop complaining!” Adam says. He resists the urge to grab a the roll of paper towels next to him and shove them in Cleaner’s mouth.

“I’m not complaining,” Cleaner says. “I’m asking to be shown something good by somebody who has a single ounce of knowledge in the area.”

“Fine,” Adam says, “you wanna see something other people don’t see? I’ll show you the basement.”

“Yeah?” Cleaner shoves his glasses down his nose. Adam refuses to acknowledge how blue those eyes are. “Gonna lock me in there and make me beg to be let go?”

Adam blinks. “That’s the angle you’re going to go with?”

Cleaner shoes his glasses up his nose. “Threw you off, didn’t it?”

“Seriously, what do you want to see?” Adam asks. He sits against a counter. “What could you possibly want with this place?”

“Dinosaurs,” Cleaner says, almost automatically. “But you have me here around test tubes.”

“It’s going to storm,” Adam says, for the millionth time that day. “The second we get out there, we could get locked outside.”

“Then unlock it,” Cleaner says.

Adam resists the urge to punch him in the mouth. “The point of the lockdown is that you can’t unlock it if the power’s out.”

“But until then?” Cleaner asks.

“Until then, we’re hanging out in here,” Adam says.

“The guy in black took Matt.”

“Yeah, well, Mox is more insane and his dinosaurs are gentler than mine are.” Adam shrugs. “Once the storm’s over, I’ll show you my dinos. Give it a few hours for it to blow over or something.”

Cleaner snorts.

“What?!”

“Just – sorry, was that not on purpose?” he asks.

“Was what not on purpose?” Adam retorts.

“The blow – never mind.” He turns a little pink, takes off the sunglasses to clean them. “Sorry.”

“Why do you wear those indoors?” Adam asks. “The sunglasses.”

Cleaner won’t meet his eyes.

“And the name,” Adam adds. “What, do you have some service on the side where you clean things?”

Cleaner wrinkles his nose. “Actually, my whole thing is I clean up the celebrity scene of the scumbags. Call out people who have done horrible things.” He adjusts his glasses, then pulls them off to give them a cleaning. His eyes are very blue. “It’s a public service. Some people don’t deserve the fame and clout.”

Adam can find that rather admirable. “Okay,” he says slowly, “but what’s with the whole…” He trails off, and settles for gesturing to Cleaner. “Persona?”

“What persona?” Cleaner asks. He shoves the glasses back on, and immediately shifts, the brief glimpse of vulnerability gone.

“Whatever,” Adam says, rolling his eyes. “Look, you don’t have to, like, perform. You’re into the philosophical components, right? You wanna see the basement labs where this all started? Feel the energy of the first few steps they took?”

Cleaner nods, carefully. “Yeah. Why the basement?”

Adam snickers. “Well, this place started off as a research facility for medicine only, genetic enhancements to combat cancer, autoimmune disorders, that stuff, way back when. The first Mr. Khan started secretly experimenting down here with genetic experiments without the knowledge of the higher level business leaders.” The elevator finally opens. “When he got to the point where he had something to show, he shifted the direction of the company.” He gestures as gallantly as he can for Cleaner to walk in before him. “Come on. Elevator time.”

Cleaner steps in, looking around as Adam scans his hand, then his retina, in the elevator to go back to the main lobby. “Why aren’t we take the elevator all the way down?”

“Doesn’t go to the basement,” Adam explains, hearing the elevator ding and stepping out.

“Back so soon?” Willow asks, eyeing them.

“Gonna show him the basement,” Adam says. “Good philosophical stuff down there. He’s complaining about not seeing dinosaurs.”

“Hey!”

Adam glances over his shoulder. “Sorry, am I wrong? You were complaining, right?”

Cleaner huffs.

“Alright, well,” Willow says, looking uncharacteristically apprehensive, “be careful down there. We don’t know what’s gotten into those boxes.”

“Willow, chill,” Adam says, rolling his eyes as he starts the procedure to unlock the basement door. “There’s nothing down there. Don’t scare him.”

“Should I be scared?” Cleaner mutters, but it’s quiet enough that Adam’s not even sure if he was supposed to hear it.

Adam gestures to the stairs once the doors unlock. “After you.”

“Like hell I’ll go down there by myself,” Cleaner says. He pulls off his sunglasses and finally folds them into the collar of his shirt. “You go down first.”

Adam studies his face. “You’re afraid of the dark.”

“I – okay, fine, but this does feel serial killer-y.”

“I promise I won’t kill you,” Adam says. He glances to Willow, who gives him a look that plainly says, you sure as hell better not. “I like my job. Murder on the clock seems like a bad idea, Cleaner.”

“Kenny.”

“Hmm?”

“My name’s Kenny.” He smiles, sheepishly. “You don’t actually have to call me Cleaner.”

Adam leads the way down the stairs. “Alright then.”

Kenny spends about two seconds hesitating at the top, then scrambles down, nearly crashing into Adam.

“You really are scared,” Adam says. “Anyway. This is some of the older stuff they used at the beginning. We still use this space for quieter work. Or, like, for things that need less light.” He clicks on every switch he can, but it’s still dim.

“Less light is right,” Kenny mutters. “It’s like a serial killer den down here.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Adam says, though he can imagine the request could prove difficult. “Nobody’s died down here.”

“I’m not saying I expect it,” Kenny says, “I’m saying it’s possible.”

Adam shows him old files, records of the initial discoveries. “If you really are the philosopher or whatever, these musings from the older Mr. Khan should interest you,” Adam says, finally finding the right file. “He wrote these on the back of an electricity bill. It was the first time they got the dinosaur genes to go from dead cells to living cells.”

Adam watches Kenny as he scans the notes. Adam memorized the chicken scrawl years ago, when he joined the company right out of college desperate for a job. He got in as a temporary assistant to Willow and Tony, answering emails and writing public statements. He stayed when he fell in love with the raptors.

“You look weird.”

Adam snaps out of his memories. “The fuck kind of thing is that to say?”

“No – not because of – you look like you’re going to cry or something.” Kenny shrugs, nose back in the papers. “These are fascinating. It’s clear how excited he was.” Kenny sits down at a forgotten desk, flipping through the sheets carefully, like he knows how delicate they are. Adam watches. Adam’s about to ask if Kenny’s gotten to the part about the first baby raptor when things go black.

“What the fuck?” Kenny asks, glaring up at Adam. The room is red-lit from the two emergency exits. Everything else is bathed in darkness. “Turn the lights back on.”

“I didn’t turn them off!” Adam says. “I’m not a dick.”

“Well fix it!” Kenny says. “I was just getting to the good part.”

Adam rolls his eyes and goes over to the breaker box. “Luckily we’re in the fuckin’ basement, huh?” He checks the breaker through straining eyes, only to see none of the switches have flipped. “Oh, fuck.”

“What? Don’t know how to fix a breaker?” Kenny stands up and walks toward him, fully shadowed. “Move over.”

“What?” Adam says. “No, dumbass. It’s not the breaker.”

“It’s gotta be the breaker.” Kenny shoves him out of the way. “Always was the breaker back home.”

“Yeah, well, back home didn’t have storms like we have on the island,” Adam scoffs.

“Back home is Canada,” Kenny says, poking around the breaker. “We have plenty of storms.”

“You’re underestimating the tropics,” Adam says, leaning against the desk. “Power’s out around campus, if I had to guess. Probably lightning on an enclosure or something.”

“Well fix it!” Kenny says, panicking. Adam rolls his eyes. “Turn the lights back on!”

“We can’t,” Adam says slowly. “We have to wait until somebody comes to the island and makes the repairs.”

“Can’t you do it?” Kenny asks. He’s getting twitchy. “Doesn’t one of you know how to fix electrical?”

“No,” Adam says. He sighs. “We’re biologists and paleontologists, not physicists.”

“Fuck off,” Kenny says. “You don’t have to be snarky about it.” He wraps up on himself, looking strange in the red exit light.

“You’re asking stupid questions,” Adam says, shrugging. “I’m giving you the answers you’re looking for, am I not?”

“You’re being a bitch about them,” Kenny shoots back. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Adam winces. “Uh, about that.”

Kenny turns around. “What?”

“We, uh. We go on full lockdown when the power goes out. Remember when I said that? It’s automatic.”

Kenny stares at him, expression furious even through the darkness. “What?”

“Go check the door,” Adam says, wary, “but I can pretty much guarantee there’s no way for us to get out of here until we get the power back.” He’d been kidding, sort of, about full lockdown. A bit of a prophetic joke, he thinks grimly.

Kenny looks at Adam, looks to the stairs, then looks back at Adam in a panic. “No.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “You’re welcome to go check if you want. Big metal fuckers. Can’t open them until the power comes back on.”

Kenny freezes, staring at Adam. He braces for some sort of feral cat style attack. Instead, Kenny says, “No,” and marches up the stairs.

“Good luck!” Adam calls, getting comfortable on the desk.

He hears scratching and thudding, and not a small amount of grunting front the top of the stairs.

Adam can’t help himself. “Are ya winning, son?” he yells.

Kenny storms down the stairs. “What?!”

“It’s a meme,” Adam explains. “Aren’t you the chronically online person? Jesus.”

“I’m not in the mood for memes,” Kenny says, pacing. It makes his leather jacket float out behind him like a cape. Kind of vampire. “How do we get out of here?”

Adam shrugs. “We wait. Wouldn’t be stuck here if it weren’t for you and your friends.” He hops to his feet, walking toward Kenny. “None of us should have been at work this weekend outside the Center if we weren’t working directly with the animals, and yet here we are.”

Kenny’s face twists in the darkness. “Are you blaming me?”

“A little,” Adam says, shrugging. “I mean, it’s your fault we’re stuck here.”

“You insisted on the basement!” Kenny yells, shoving Adam. He must have some serious muscles under the anime tee shirt and leather jacket, because Adam goes stumbling into a desk.

“Get your fucking hands off of me,” Adam grumbles, righting himself before shoving Kenny back.

Kenny laughs. “You just came at me again.” He grabs Adam’s arm, and Adam slaps it away.

“Yeah, because your stupid ass got us stuck in the fucking basement.” Adam shoves Kenny again, feeling settled as he gets his footing. Not his first fight. Won’t be his last.

“You made me come down here!” Kenny kicks at his shins. Adam dances out of the way, almost enjoying it.

“You weren’t pleased with the test tubes,” Adam snaps.

“Fucking –” Adam gets no warning for what Kenny does next. He dives at him, shoulder going directly into Adam’s gut, and they crash backward into a stack of boxes. They rain down on him as Kenny presses Adam to the floor. Adam is suddenly very aware that he’s being pinned, and he’s not pleased about it.

With a grunt, he lifts his hips and twists, sending Kenny crashing to the ground. Kenny yelps, slamming into the boxes of poorly filed paper documents.

“Fuck it,” Adam says, straddling Kenny’s hips and pinning him to the floor. “Somebody needed to reorganize those anyway.”

Kenny shoves up against Adam’s grip, but he’s nothing compared to a pissed off raptor. Adam shoves his hands harder against the ground, and smirks down when Kenny bucks his hips up. “Keep goin’, baby, see what happens.”

Kenny freezes. “I –” He doesn’t move. Doesn’t resist. Just looks up at Adam, eyes wide.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Adam asks. It’s suddenly too warm in the basement. He itches to rip off his jacket.

“You’re on top of me,” Kenny says, pausing to swallow, “you can’t blame me for being taken aback.”

Adam shrugs, letting go of Kenny’s hands and sitting back on his heels. “You were being a little shit. You can’t blame me for getting you to calm the fuck down.”

Kenny won’t meet Adam’s eyes now that he’s shifted, but it’s worth the peace. “Can you get off me now?”

Adam swings his leg off of Kenny and spins to standing. Kenny’s still laying on the floor, staring up at him. “What now?”

“Nothing,” Kenny says, scrambling to his feet. He adjusts his jacket, then his hair. And then his pants. Adam decides not to comment, for the good of humanity. “So we’re stuck in here,” he says.

“Yup,” Adam says. “Won’t get power back until and unless somebody from the mainland sends electrical repair help. Unless one of the guys you came here with has electrical knowledge.”

“They don’t,” Kenny says. “But, um. If I had the right materials, I could do something.”

“Sucks we’re in a black hole of paper and boxes,” Adam sighs. He stretches out on a desk, letting a leg dangle down. “We’re just gonna be waiting here. Cell service dies when the electricity dies. Way everything’s wired here.”

“That’s not great,” Kenny says. “Bad design.” He gets up on another desk, sitting crosslegged, and plays with his fingers.

It’s silent for a few minutes. Adam’s tempted to restart their fight, push a button or something, just to find something to do.

“Hey, has there ever been a landline on this campus?” Kenny asks.

“Probably,” Adam says. “I mean, they built the Sanctuary in the 80s, so I think it has to have had one back in the day. At least an internal one, you know.”

Kenny sighs. “If we had a phone, I could probably figure out how to hotwire some old cords to connect it to an ethernet port.”

“You could?” Adam sits up. “Seriously?”

“I had to teach myself how to fix my old game controllers as a kid,” Kenny says, shrugging. “And that became fixing my consoles, which became fixing my PCs. Then I found some other…ways to use the skill.” Adam wants to ask for more detail, but he doesn’t. “It’s kind of muscle memory at this point.”

Adam nods. Kenny pulls out his phone, the light too bright in the dark room, and winces as he shoves it in his pocket. “Fuck,” Kenny chuckles. “You were right. No service at all.”

Adam nods. “Told you.” He expects Kenny to fight back. He doesn’t. So Adam sits. He counts to sixty. And then to sixty again.

“I’m gonna look around,” Adam says, impatient. “Sort some of the papers that got knocked over or something.” He hops off the desk and starts picking up files. At the very least the papers are secure in the folders, so all he has to do is start to place things chronologically on the desks. He can barely see it, but he can make out the scrawls of various handwritings, the Khans, Castagnoli’s, even some with Willow’s neat print. “Help?” he asks, turning to Kenny.

“Sure,” Kenny says. He sounds eager. “I kind of thought you wanted me out of the way.”

Adam shakes his head. “Nah, I’d be happy to have some backup.” He does his best to throw Kenny a smile.

Kenny starts by grabbing folders and putting them on one desk, then Adam uses his phone flashlight to read the names, then files the folders into boxes on the floor in chronological order. Before much time passes, the two of them have a system. The whole mess they created is nearly tidied in two hours, by Adam’s watch. And it’s comfortable, too. Adam doesn’t feel like killing Kenny nearly as much as he had before.

“Holy shit!” Kenny says, in a dark corner of the room neither of them had touched, where the last few folders had skittered. “Adam, holy shit!”

“Holy what shit?” Adam asks, shoving a folder labeled ‘Genetics Notes Fall 1993’ into the last space in the early 90s box. “What’d you find?”

“Cord,” Kenny says. “Extension cord. If we could find a phone…”

Adam abandons his organizing and begins digging through every space in the room. It’s pitch black in the corners, stuck fumbling through spiderwebs and dust in the dark. He doesn’t bother looking at his watch or calling out to Kenny. If one of them finds something, they’ll say it.

Eventually, after touching webs and spiders and dirt and dust, his hands brush against something hard and plastic. He doesn’t allow himself to hope.

It takes a second – it’s stuck underneath something slightly cold that he doesn’t want to think about – and pulls with all his might. He stumbles backward, cradling the object in his arms as he falls backward on top of himself. “Hi,” he says, rolling to a stop at Kenny’s feet. “Look.”

Kenny lights up. “A phone!” he crows. He reaches down and grabs it, examining the device and its accompanying cord closely. “Yeah, I can make this work.”

Kenny gets to work, alright. Adam has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s very intrigued by the way he’s using his teeth and fingers to bend wires as he’s got his face next to the old ethernet port.

“Are you going to electrocute yourself?” Adam asks. “Because I don’t know what I can do if you electrocute yourself.”

“Shut up,” Kenny says. “Let me focus.”

So Adam does. Kenny directs him to yank the plastic outlet cover off the wall, revealing wires. “Flashlight, please.”

Adam guides the light from his phone as Kenny shoves his head into the wall. He fights the urge to tell him to stop. He’d rather not smell all that curly hair burning. But, if it gets them out, it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to suffer. He guesses.

“Do you have, like, a pocket knife in those tight jeans of yours?” Kenny asks, head still inside the wall. “The cords are really well done in here – color coding is accurate to the specs of the eighties, I think – but they’re also super protected. I have to cut into some of the really old phone wires. I don’t think any of them were directed into the basement.”

Adam fishes out his pocket knife and hands it to Kenny. “There we go,” Kenny says. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“I don’t think there were phones down here,” Adam muses. “Once they put in the intercom system over by the walls, there was no point. That was when they rebuilt.” He pauses. “I think that was in the late 90s? Early two thousands?”

“Cool history, dude, but can you put the light back?”

“Right. Sorry.”

A half hour passes.

“I think I got it,” Kenny says, pulling his head out of the hole he’d made in the wall. “But this only has one chance. Maybe fifteen seconds of phone line, so be sure to call somebody who you know will pick up.”

“Oh, Tony picks up his phone, alright.” Adam has seen the man answer for every single spam call in his presence, despite being told not to. “I know the number.”

Kenny raises an eyebrow. “You’ve memorized phone numbers? What is this, 2004?”

“Shut up,” Adam says, rolling his eyes. “I’d kick you if I didn’t know it would fuck up the connection.”

“Well, then, lucky me.” He exhales, fingers at a weird angle, multiple wire ends open. Adam doesn’t want to think about what exactly would happen if the wrong wires touched. “Get the phone ready. I want this to work and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Adam sits down on the floor next to Kenny, trying to keep the cord lose. “You ready?”

Kenny nods. “I’m ready. Are you ready to dial?”

Adam nods. “Ten digits ready to go, baby.”

Kenny throws him a smile. “Here goes nothing.”

The spark is bright enough to burn Adam’s eyes, but he dials through muscle memory in the blur.

“Tony Khan speaking.”

“Tony!” Adam yells. “Holy shit, it worked.”

“Why are you yelling?”

“Power’s out,” Adam says, as Kenny gestures for him to hurry up. “We need you – anybody – back on the island ASAP to help get it back. With a crew. Place is fully locked down, no exit without power.”

“How the hell are you calling me?!”

“Old landline in the basement,” Adam says. “Look, this phone is set up with, like, bubblegum and paperclips, so I don’t know how long we’ll have the connection for.”

“I’ll get the coastguard out there right now,” Tony says. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. We should have power returned within the hour. They have a specialized plan for these – ”

The line cuts, but Adam’s not worried. “Holy shit,” he says, falling against the wall. “Holy shit, you did it.”

“I did it,” Kenny says, a little smug. He lets go of the wires and puts his thumb in his mouth. Adam follows the movement until Kenny turns to Adam, beaming. It’s not as annoying as Adam thinks it should be. He can’t get his eyes off of Kenny’s mouth.

“You okay?” Adam asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Kenny says, around his thumb. “Side effect of messing with open wires. Little bit of a chemical burn.” He smiles, a little sweet, a little intriguing. “I’ll get over it. The point is I fixed it.” He grins at Adam. “I told you I could.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Adam corrects. “I said I had my doubts.”

“Same difference,” Kenny says, rolling his eyes. “So, he said an hour?”

Adam nods. “Within the hour, technically. We might get power back sooner.”

Kenny stands up and leans against a desk. He shoots a smile down at Adam. “We have some time then.”

Adam swallows and gets to his feet. “We do.”

He has some flashbacks to earlier that night – Kenny under him, Kenny’s smile, Kenny bitching at him. He doesn’t know what prompts him to do it, but he steps up into Kenny’s space, daring him to close the last few inches.

“Um,” Kenny says, eyes flicking to Adam’s. “Do – are we?”

Adam leans in and kisses him, quick enough to test the waters. “You tell me,” Adam says. “Are we?”

Kenny pauses for a few seconds, almost frozen. And then he dives in, lips on Adam’s, intense. His hands fling around Adam’s neck, yanking him in more tightly. Demanding. Adam shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“Fucking Christ, this is stupid,” Adam says, shoving Kenny up against the wall. His hands go for Kenny’s belt.

“Yeah?” Kenny laughs. “Well, stupid’s kind of my whole thing.”

Adam kisses him again, teeth clacking, and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that this guy is fucking annoying, he doesn’t care that they’re locked in this basement, he doesn’t care that this is the worst idea he’s had in months. He grabs at Kenny’s belt and yanks him closer, tasting a moan on his tongue from Kenny.

“You like that?” Adam growls. “Should’a thrown you around more earlier.” He yanks Kenny by the belt and steers him to the desk. He shoves him backward, grinning. Kenny doesn’t even speak, just falls back against the desk, legs splayed, mouth half open, eyes lidded.

“Alright then.” Adam yanks him to the of the desk so his legs are dangling. He grabs at Kenny’s belt again. “I’m gonna blow you, you fucking terror.”

Kenny whimpers again.

“Can you talk?” Adam asks, undoing the belt. “Fuck.”

“Can,” Kenny squeaks. “Just – you’re really hot.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes,” Kenny says. His eyes bore into Adam’s. “Yes.”

Adam rips the belt out and throws it to the side, going for the button to Kenny’s jeans next. “These are stupidly tight,” Adam says, trying to pull them off. Kenny comes with them. “Fuck. Painted on.”

Kenny wiggles and Adam twists, and finally the jeans come off to reveal –

“You’re wearing Final Fantasy underpants,” Adam says, pausing. “Those are Final Fantasy underpants.”

“And?” Kenny asks, pushing up on his elbows. “Is that a dealbreaker?”

“I had no idea you were this big a geek,” Adam says. “I mean, the anime shirt…” He slides his hands under the hem of Kenny’s shirt, feeling abs. “You’re fucking awful, but also a giant nerd. Fuck, I hate how this is still hot.” He cups Kenny’s dick through his pants, earning a moan.

“Oh, god,” Kenny says. “Fuck.”

“No kidding,” Adam says. “Gonna blow you, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, very okay,” Kenny says. “This is so not how I expected this day to go.”

Adam chuckles. “Yeah?” He pulls at Kenny’s ridiculous underwear. “You weren’t expecting to get fucked at the dinosaur sanctuary?”

“Shut up,” Kenny whines. Adam gets his underwear down his thighs. Kenny’s dick pops out of the underwear, curved and already hard and glistening.

“Hey, Kenny?”

“Yeah?”

“How long have you had a boner?”

Kenny groans. “Shut up.” It feels like that’s all Kenny can say right now. It’s kind of fun.

“How long?” Adam teases. He licks up Kenny’s cock, earning a gasp. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“Since – since you pushed me,” Kenny says, “a little bit, since you pushed me.”

Adam rewards the honestly by sliding his mouth around the head of Kenny’s cock. “You,” Adam says, pausing to spit in his hand, “came at me first.”

Kenny whines as Adam slowly jerks him off. “You – you were goading me.”

“Were you hoping this would happen?” Adam asks. He grins as Kenny’s eyes close and his hands grip at the edges of the desk. “Wanted to get laid out all pretty for me?”

Kenny makes the best noise in the back of his throat, pushing up into the circle of Adam’s fist. “You talk a lot,” he whimpers.

“I do,” Adam says. “Unlike the dinosaurs, you can actually understand me when I’m being snarky. Which is a nice change.”

“Weird to bring up your dinosaurs right now,” Kenny gasps.

“Weird to wear Final Fantasy underwear as an adult,” Adam chuckles. “We both got our things, don’t we?”

Kenny laughs, and it fades into a moan as Adam wraps his lips around the head of his cock. He strokes and sucks, and Kenny babbles.

“Oh my god,” Kenny says, “don’t – don’t stop. Keep – That’s really good.”

Adam rolls his eyes. Of course it’s good. He’s good at this. He presses Kenny’s hips to the table and sinks down, keeping the suction. He’ll be damned if Kenny walks out of here without shaky legs, no matter how long they’re in here.

“Jesus,” Kenny gasps.

It won’t take too long – Kenny is all squirmy and needy and Adam knows well how to handle somebody like that – from now, so Adam picks up the pace and gets a little sloppier with it. Kenny lets out a whine from somewhere deep within his chest, then lets out a litany of swears and nonsense as he comes with a twitch of his hips that makes Adam wonder if Kenny could break his hold if he really wanted to. Adam swallows all of him down, making sure he doesn’t leave anything to make a mess.

“God, you’re thorough,” Kenny whimpers. “Okay, too much?”

Adam pulls off and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He grins. “Too much? Good to know what you can and can’t handle.”

“I’ll show you – fuck off.” Kenny hops off the desk and yanks up his pants. “Get against the wall.”

“The wall?”

“Yeah,” Kenny says. “That way you don’t fall over.”

“I wouldn’t fall over,” Adam scoffs, but he lets Kenny pretend he has a little control as he walks Adam backward against the wall. “You got me here by the stairs so if it unlocks while we’re fucking we can see it, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Kenny says, shoving Adam’s pants down. “Damn it.”

“Damn – what?!” Adam asks.

Kenny sighs and looks up at Adam, and if he wasn’t already ready to go… “Well, usually, a dick like that I want in my ass. And we don’t have time. Or materials.”

Adam drops his head back against the wall. “You can’t just say shit like that to a guy. Now eventually I’ll have to fuck you.”

“Great,” Kenny chuckles, and then he dives in.

As good as Adam knows he is at going down on people, Kenny’s a pro. Adam hasn’t gotten laid in a while – practically living at work will do that to a guy – but he knows enough to know that this is pure, god given talent. Adam fights to keep his hips against the wall, to not go too hard too fast, but he wants to.

Kenny pulls off, his hand picking up where his mouth leaves off. “You know you can, like, go rough, right?” he says, peering up at Adam. “It’s more fun for me that way.”

Adam stares at him. “Like – like, fucking your throat.”

Kenny shrugs. “Sure. If you want to.”

Adam takes a few steadying breaths. He doesn’t want to like this guy. It’s just that he’s really, really into this moment and it would be impossible to keep himself from being into Kenny, is all. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah, I – okay.”

Kenny winks up at Adam from his knees and sinks back down. Adam slides his hands into Kenny’s hair. He doesn’t go too rough – he’s a gentleman, after all, and this is the first time his dick’s been in Kenny’s mouth – but he does have a little fun with it. Kenny moans like he’s the one getting blown and it’s too much fun. Adam would hate it if he wasn’t so close to coming.

“Fuck,” Adam growls. “You take this so good, baby. All you needed this whole time was my dick in your mouth to calm down, huh?”

Kenny flips Adam off as rolls his hips, and that’s it. “Fuck,” Adam says again, because all other words have left his brain, and he comes down Kenny’s mouth. He hopes it’s okay. He forgot to ask.

Kenny drops his head to Adam’s hip, laughing. “Well then,” he says, voice ragged. Adam’s way more into it than he should be. “What a way to pass the time.”

“I’d offer you water or something, after that,” Adam muses, “but, uh. You know. Trapped.”

“Trapped,” Kenny repeats, and, yeah, Adam’s obsessed with that new gravel. With the knowledge that he made it happen. “Yeah.” He looks up then gets to his feet, pressing Adam to the wall by the hips. Adam fights the urge to yelp as his softening cock gets brushed by the denim. “Can I kiss you?”

Adam nods and pulls Kenny in, kissing him lightly, tasting himself on Kenny’s tongue. It’s too intimate, for whatever this is, but he’s not willing to stop or critique. Tony said an hour, but it could be more.

“Hold up,” Kenny says, pulling back.

Adam, confused, takes the second to pull up his forgotten pants. “You good?”

Kenny nods. “I think people are moving around upstairs again.” He walks a few feet over and tilts his head. “Like, I can hear people. Is that normal during lockdown?”

Adam shakes his head, trying to keep himself steady. He’s kind of glad for the wall. He’d never tell that to Kenny, though. “No. No, it’s not.” He adjusts his pants and fixes his hair. He’s still in a daze, unable to connect dots he knows are floating in front of him.

“Lockdown might be starting to lift.”

“Oh, my god,” Adam says, staring. “You’re right.”

Kenny shrugs. “I mean, yeah. That happens often.”

“Shut up,” Adam says. “Fuck, I can straight up hear feet upstairs. At the very least, somebody’s alive in the hallway…maybe coming from the medical wing? I’m not sure.”

“Was that ever something to worry about?” Kenny asks. He turns to Adam, bewildered. “Were you thinking everybody else would be dead?!”

“Not everybody,” Adam says. “Just anyone stuck outside in a containment area without a way to get out.” He frowns. “Maybe Yuta. Kid’s kind of insane. Likes hanging out with the T-Rex.”

“I think – Mox, was it? Yeah, Mox mentioned him.”

Adam’s about to answer, but then he’s blinded.

“Light!” Kenny shrieks. “There’s light! We have power!”

“We have power,” Adam laughs, a little delirious. He squints. “Race you to the door, Mr. Final Fantasy.”

“Oh, shut up,” Kenny says. “But, um. Thanks.” He smiles, a little hesitant. “For. You know.”

“Thank you for using your weird wiring skills to get our asses back to having power.” Adam nods to the stairs. “Go ahead. I’ll follow you up there. Make sure no basement monsters get you.” He winks.

Kenny groans as he makes his way up the stairs. “I fucking hate you,” he grumbles.

“Sure were singing a different tune a few minutes ago,” Adam mutters. “Also, great view, but can you and your Final Fantasy underpants hurry the fuck up?”

“I’m trying!” Kenny says. “The door is – oh!”

The door flings open and Willow’s standing there, hands on her hips and a smile on her face. “You two,” she says, “are fucking stupid.”

Mini Playlist: Chapter 1 Animal - Kesha Waste it on Me - Steve Aoki feat. BTS Lightning in a Bottle - The Summer Set Clean - Pale Waves

#They're fucking stupid your honor #Both as an adverb and as a verb #They're special that way #wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes #JPAU #Jurassic Park AU

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