#referenced canonical suicide

[aftgficrec]

Hi! I was wondering if you know of any fics that explore the friendship between Andrew and Kevin? Especially how they became close after Kevin came to the Foxes with a broken hand. I just think their friendship is so interesting, and I am so curious about how it started. Thank you!

@lynntjeeee and @sayonara-you-weeaboo-shits: These asks overlapped, so we combined them and separated fic types with subheads. The last ones under ‘you may also like’ don’t fit neatly but still hold the main ideas found in pre canon Kevin & Andrew stories. Unfortunately most are not very long. -A

also see:

‘a foxhole collection…’ Chapter 30 here

‘The gentle violence of loving you’ and ‘I Don't Know How to Breathe’ here

‘I came for the safety (stayed 'cause you made me feel)’ here

‘Searchlights’ here

‘Trust Me’ here

you may also like:

Andrew loving toward Kevin: friendship or kandrew here

Andrew & Kevin here

kandrew fluff & smut here

Kevin centric here

‘breaking every finger, praying that it makes me clean’ here 

‘do you care?’ here

‘Have a Kevin of the day’ Day 2 here

‘They All Burn the Same’ here (updated)

‘a lot's gonna change’ here

‘splinters beneath our nails,’ ‘Not again,’ and ‘Reasons’ here

‘Just Short Of A Fairy Tale’ here

‘the prince in the raven tower’ here

‘white soap’ here

‘Pieces of Ideas for Works’ ch 12 (also ch 43) here

‘Cross the Board and Crown Yourself Queen’ here

Rescue Me by Demiwitchwoodwalker [Rated T, 4564 Words, Complete, 2022]

Part 1 of Someone(s) To Stay, part 2 here 

“I can protect you, from him and yourself,” Andrew said in a tone Kevin couldn’t quite place after a long moment filled with nothing but the muffled noise of the game playing on Kevin’s laptop. “I can help you stay instead of running further or back.” Kevin stared at him then, finally letting himself actually look at him, and the same feeling from before returned, feeling like a hand clenched itself around his lungs and heart. He pushed his laptop closed, the game’s audio abruptly cutting off, and turned slightly to face Andrew, whose expression had shifted back into the grin that seemed to constantly be present in the day and whose eyes looked almost dead. Kevin’s lips parted, words rising in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t get them past his tongue. How was he supposed to do this? The memory of Andrew the night before floated through his mind again, when he was as close to sober as he could get, more vulnerable than Kevin felt he’d ever seen a person despite the fact that Kevin was the one halfway through a breakdown. "Why?" --- Aka, how Kevin and Andrew make their deal. (Potential triggers are listed in the tags, please be careful!)

tw: self harm, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced suicidal thoughts

broken wings by diabolicalandderanged [Rated G, 4625 Words, Complete, 2023]

Highlights of the year Kevin Day joins the Foxes as assistant coach!! Including: making the deal, meeting Wymack and taking down Riko

tw: implied/referenced abuse

Escape by 38booksonmyshelf [Rated T, 3430 Words, Complete, 2023]

The night Riko broke his hand, Kevin's only thought was that he had to get out. He went to his father.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

From Bones and Ashes by ScriptaManent [Rated T, 3006 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Kevin has a mental breakdown during the weeks following his injury. He’s “safe” with coach Wymack but he can’t do anything, he can’t even hold a fucking glass and it pisses him off. He knows Riko is out there, looking for him (well, not yet, but he knows he will eventually). Kevin drinks to forget but his mind keeps going back to Riko, to that night when he broke his hand and when Jean collected him, to that night he got out of Evermore without looking back, and to that night he knocked on Wymack’s door, a living mess barely able to think straight. Then, without even a knock on the door, a first glimpse of hope manages to get him back to the surface, at least for a while.

tw: violence, tw: assault

take off your clothes and disappear by lackingsoy [Rated T, 3075 Words, Complete, 2020]

They recognize each other from the start. A yes, a no, and a maybe between Day and Minyard.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: alcohol, tw: medication addiction, tw: withdrawal 

Silver Crimson Black by sweetlikesugar [Rated T, 1076 Words, Complete, 2019]

Kevin can barely stand. He keeps swaying from side to side, vision blurry. Whether it’s sweat or tears he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know. All he knows is the sickening rage, boiling and curling like a poisonous snake. He’s mindless with it, he’s feral with it.

TWO. by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 2944 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

The Foxhole Court is the only place in South Carolina that makes sense to Kevin, but it lacks the discipline, rigor, and partnership that kept him grounded for years. Over four nights at the court in the spring of 2006, Kevin attempts to recreate the only life he knows how to live.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

oh icarus how do you fall (so hard and so pretty) by wxltedrxses [Rated T, 1008 Words, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2022]

An analysis of the rise and fall of Kevin Day

tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: implied/referenced abuse

don't want no other shade of blue but you / no other sadness in the world will do by snnycarisi [Rated G, 1713 Words, Complete, 2024]

For just a moment, he could pretend that this man was Jean, that they were both free to do something as frivolous as go dancing, that they were both free at all. He imagined that those were Jean’s hands on his waist, Jean’s breath on his neck, Jean’s body heat making his cheeks colour. That Jean would even want this — want him — after everything he’d done was possibly the biggest fantasy of all. --- After a drunk encounter with a stranger at Eden's Twilight, Kevin calls Jean.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

tfc!written word au by @unkingly [Tumble Fic, 2016]

in a world where what someone believes about you is written on your skin, Andrew and Kevin make their deal.

Andrew & Kevin hc by @filippa-kosta [Tumblr, 2018]

I want to talk about the significance of Andrew & Kevins relationship bc tbh I think it's devalued and misinterpreted a lot, despite the fact it's hugely significant to the series, vital to the plot, & important to Neil

andrew and kevin’s individual recovery arcs… meta by @ketterdamns [Tumblr, 2017]

kandrew/kandreil:

Make Me Believe That You Need Me Most by sambutwithbooks [Rated E, 10598 Words, Complete, 2022]

The problem was that Kevin expected exy to be enough.  Most people went through life without finding a calling, without a modicum of the talent Andrew had and still found ways to live normal, fulfilling lives. Exy- and the comfortable life it offered- should have been enough to tempt and satisfy any rational person.  And maybe that was his first mistake- believing that Andrew was a rational person. 

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: explicit sexual content

Take me as I come (or discard me like the rest) by elias_day [Rated M, 9675 Words, Incomplete, Updated Dec 2022]

Kevin’s breathing picks up. “What would you take for your protection?” “It’s not like you can offer much,” Andrew says. It’s true. What could a broken man like Kevin Day offer him? A man crippled by fear, someone without the backbone to stand on his own feet? Nothing. He could give Andrew nothing. “You’re wrong.” ___ Kevin never thought he could keep his end of the deal with Andrew. Turns out in the end, he did. Only not in the way he thought. A.K.A pre-canon KANDREW turned post-canon KANDREIL with lots of pining and emotionally repressed lack of communication

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: nightmares, tw: vomit, tw: ptsd, tw: recreational drug use

What is love when it's never fully consumed? by CamilleDuDemon [Rated T, 10522 Words, Complete, 2021]

5+1 significative moments in the relationship between Andrew and Kevin, before and after Neil Josten's sudden arrival at Palmetto State University.

tw: medication addiction, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Temperature of Healing by ReeseMH [Rated M, 5482 Words, Complete, 2024]

Kevin Day, picked up by Andrew Minyard, hand broken and eyes glossed over because he is dead. There is nothing for him, and he doesn't even remember using his good hand to dial that number, coughing up blood before he could tell Andrew where he was. He didn't even know where he was going but the lights of the highway are pretty, and even though he is dead... he's not alone for it.

tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

invisible machinery by grainpatron380 (onesourfish) [Rated T, 2445 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew drags his mouth southward and doesn’t bother with apologizing for imagined horrors or future ones. Doesn’t bother to say, I won't, I couldn’t, I would never do something like that to you. Can't promise it. Months before Neil arrives at PSU, Kevin has a nightmare. Andrew questions him.

tw: nightmares, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse

I Am Ready Now by IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos [Rated M, 6477 Words, Complete, 2019]

The problem is, he doesn’t hate him. He wants to. Wants to hate this monster so badly, wants to feel the urge to kill him like Andrew does, wants to drive out to West Virginia and waltz onto the court, choking Riko to death until his eyes turn from black and white to red, his skin from tan to blue. But he can’t. Kevin thinks about his relationship to Riko when he was still at the nest. He thinks he's falling. But someone will catch him this time. Can he let go?

tw: domestic violence, tw: explicit sexual content, tw: assault

kevin day prefers the night by thewintersolstice [Rated T, 3027 Words, Complete, 2021]

Part 1 of aftg: everything's the same except kandreil's real, duh. series

Months after breaking his hand and arriving at Palmetto State, Kevin's still struggling with leaving Evermore and Riko's still got a ghostly grasp on him. Andrew takes him for a drive. “Snap out of it,” Andrew says, simple again like it’s easy, and pushes hard fingertips into his skin until finally, finally Kevin can breathe, can fight the sick roll of his stomach and he shuts his eyes, focuses on the warmth of Andrew’s palm until it’s gone again. He pulls away and Kevin hears the press of the bed as he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Oh Captain, Let’s Make a Deal by takitalks [Rated M, 3690 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2023]

An exploration of Kevin and Andrew navigating this stand off pre-canon, with a sprinkle of getting together.

Broken promises by ok555 [Rated M, 10783 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

Kevin doesn't know if he will ever forgive Andrew for what he did to get information about Neil on their ride to Baltimore. What will Andrew do to try and win his forgiveness? Will he even care? Andrew doesn't believe in regret, but what if just this once he does?

tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: depression

you may also like:

higher ground by darkoceanbottom [Rated T, 6085 Words, Complete, 2021]

Kevin Day and identity.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: canonical character death

Roaring Like Beasts Full Of Rage by Sashe [Rated E, 30713 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

The PSU Foxes' luck takes a turn when they take in the Raven's injured goalkeeper Andrew Doe. Andrew isn't exactly happy to be there, treated as a spectacle by the media, an outcast by his new team and a let down by the family that never wanted him. He's especially not happy about the new striker recruit, who no one else seems to think is supicious. or Roleswap canon divergent where Raven!Andrew has a broken hand and Wymack has been raising Kevin.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced psychological abuse, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: panic attacks

The Truth Hurts Worse by mcmeasle [Rated T, 2742 Words, Complete, 2024]

Kevin chattered on as Andrew opened the door and tuned out the cadence of his voice, Kevin’s full attention on Andrew. Immediately, Andrew locked on to the man with bright red hair sitting in his desk chair, feet thrown on top of the desk with ankles crossed, tapping an impressive looking knife blade over his fingertips. “Welcome home,” the stranger said cheerily, a sharp smile wending its way onto his lips, icy blue eyes locked onto Andrew. —- Or Butcher!Neil makes a house call

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

decline of the empire by drewdrugs [Rated T, 1507 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2024]

Kevin embraced the idea that, even he had never been taught by his father, he was learning to lose now. The structures of his coliseum were crumbling and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. This time, Andrew couldn't do anything for him. Or at least that's what he believed.

tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

NB: this last one is the culmination of Kevin & Andrew’s deal from the very beginning

Interesting by ashestoashes7 [Rated T, 6632 Words, Complete, AFTG 2024 Olympics]

Andrew decided to make the Exy Olympic Finals more interesting. No one else knew what to do with that, not even his own teammates, but Andrew and boredom was a recipe for the unexpected. After all, it was not every day a goalkeeper slammed the ball down the court and bathed the opposition in red.

[kamryn1963]

Summary: Al thinks this is the only way. Trudy and Hank try to get him to see otherwise.

TW: Suicide Attempt

@angstober Prompt 26: Persuasion

“Hey.” Trudy said as she looked up from where she’d been waiting for Al and Hank by the front doors of the district. 

“Hey. Al not here yet?” Hank asked back, frowning as he looked around for their friend. 

Their friend they were trying to keep a close eye on since Eddie Penland’s murder only three months before. 

“I guess not. I thought he was with you.”

“I thought he would be with you.”

Hank and Trudy looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Silently the two of them headed to the locker room knowing that’s where Al was most likely to be. They figured he had just decided to shower there and was running late. 

Neither of them expected to enter the locker room and find Al sitting against his locker, gun to his chin, eyes closed and two letters set out in front of him. 

Both of them were frozen, unable to form words for several moments, as they stood in the doorway. Hank and Trudy knew what they were supposed to do in this situation, and had been trained on it. 

They just didn’t expect to find their friend, their little brother like this. 

Hank stepped forward first, Trudy standing back to not overwhelm Al more than he probably already was. 

“Al? Al, it’s Hank and Trudy. We need you to put the gun down, buddy.” Hank kept his voice soft, trying to remember what their instructors said in the academy about this. 

“Go away. I don’t want you guys seeing this.” Al rasped, his eyes still closed as he pressed the gun further into his chin. 

“We can’t do that, Al. We need you to put the gun down.” Trudy responded as she also stepped closer. 

“Why should I? What’s the point? Eddie’s dead, I’m a murderer. Why should I stay around?” Al questioned his voice growing more desperate and his finger coming down on the trigger. 

“Because there’s people that need you, Al. Me, Trudy, Camille, Shi, Justin. He needs his godfather. How would I explain to Justin that his favorite uncle was dead?” Hank knew it was low, using Justin against Al like this. But he also was well aware Justin might be the only person that Al would stay for. 

“He’d be better without me.” Al protested but his grip slowly loosened and Hank took the opportunity to rush forward, grabbing the gun out of Al’s hands and throwing it out the door. 

Hank and Trudy both knew that was a risky move but with the way Al was going, they both knew he could’ve very well ended up pressing the trigger anyway. 

As Al stood up clearly preparing to go grab the gun, Hank stepped forward to grab him while Trudy went to the bullpen to call for an ambulance. 

Just because Al was alive didn’t mean Hank and Trudy weren’t well aware Al could snap at any moment. This was just the beginning of a very long few weeks.

[ut-scatteredextension]

What's the worst reason you had to reset?

"..."

"I HATE HOTLAND."

[captain-gillian]

seven sentence sunday (CW: suicidal ideation)

thank you for tagging me @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @carlos-tk @sznofthesticks @terramous @lemonlyman-dotcom

@carlos-in-glasses @reyesstrand @vineofroses

here is exactly seven sentences of the nancy backstory wip

Will she ever be able to close her eyes without seeing him? If she didn’t show up again, would anyone care? How long will it be before they replace Tim? Forget Tim. How will she go home tonight and pretend her entire world hasn’t just shattered? Would the firefighters even notice if she didn’t come back? Would anyone even miss her if she was just gone? 

open tag <3

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: OMORI

Sample Size: 7,277 stories

Source: AO3

[onceandfutureclotpoll]

Title: The Catalyst

Author: Val_Creative

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Merlin will never die. Time has withered him to a standoffish, hollow mimicry of what he has once been. The boy who wore his smiles with pride and genuine feeling.

The worst part is he never truly lives, not until destiny spits Arthur Pendragon back out.

[zacharyleigh316]

the haunting cry of a hollow heart

the haunting cry of a hollow heart | E | 8.6K | Read here (or below cut)

Castiel, despite his interest in all things other, despite his favor for the fantastical, his love for reading stories and fairytales, despite his faith and religion, he didn’t believe in the supernatural. --

Though, regrettably, much to his chagrin, perhaps if he had, he wouldn’t have been so unprepared. --

Castiel, despite his interest in all things other, despite his favor for the fantastical, his love for reading stories and fairytales, despite his faith and religion, he didn’t believe in the supernatural.

He believed in the afterlife, believed in God, angels (he was named after one, after all) and demons, Heaven and hell. But that was where his belief both started and ended. He didn’t believe in those creatures the very stories he loved to read warned him about, the creatures that shape-shifted, or sucked humans dry. The creatures that feasted on dead flesh, or came from other lands, other universes.

Though, regrettably, much to his chagrin, perhaps if he had, he wouldn’t have been so unprepared. However, less regrettably, it did put him in the position of crossing paths with a man who, by all accounts would have never known he’d existed, a handsome athlete who ran in completely different crowds—or so he presumed originally—a man who he only knew in name until the very object of his disbelief brought them together.

Castiel was working late in the library that night, when he heard Charlie’s bright voice greet him from a distance. 

“Yo, what’s up?” She had a grin on her face, of which he could hear before he even saw her.

Not that it was very hard, even over the stacks of books he was carting around, and through the thick bindings of ones already shelved, her bright red bob could be seen coming across campus.

“Charlie.” He said in lieu of a proper hello, but his tone was no less fond. 

“Look at what I found.” 

Castiel didn’t have time to ask before she was thrusting a piece of paper to his chest, a smug look on her face.

“And by found, naturally you mean…” he asked skeptically, pulling the paper away from himself and reading it.

“This is a flyer for the gala. The same flyer that’s been posted to the events billboard since the beginning of the semester.”

“Okay, so I might have taken-“

“Pilfered-“

Charlie playfully shoved his shoulder, and shot him a glare, without any of its usual bite, had it been directed toward anyone but him. 

“-Taken,” she repeated, purposefully ignoring his correction, “from one of the boards, yes, but there’s so many of them, it’s not like they’ll miss one.”

Castiel hummed disapprovingly, but let her continue.

“I thought we could go!”

At that, Castiel furrowed his brow. “Go? To the Valentine’s Day gala?”

“Yeah! C’mon, it'll be fun. We’ll stuff our faces with free food, and watch people get shitfaced and make fools of themselves on the dance floor. Think of all the blackmail.”

“And with whom are you thinking of bringing as your date?” 

“You, silly, duh! We’ll go together. As friends of course. Because you’re dreamy, but definitely not my type. Seeing as you’re not a girl.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You’re not my type either.” He muttered, handing her back the flyer.

The ‘seeing as I like guys’ went unsaid, but Charlie smiled anyway. They both knew this of one another of course, having been friends since freshman year, when Charlie bounded into his life uninvited but no less welcome, but Charlie liked to bring it up every now and then, “as a reminder” she had said once, flourishing it with a wink. Though, it was her odd idiosyncrasies that made her so likable by even someone like Castiel himself—not that he was entirely lacking in those either, except, people usually steered clear of him for his. 

“And who knows, maybe there’ll be some hot people there we can hit on. Wins all around the board.” Charlie added jovially, taking the flyer back, only to wave it about the air as she gestured excitedly.

“You make it sound like we’re already going.”

She smiled at him guiltily, and Castiel couldn’t help but sigh.

“Charlie…”

“Don’t be mad, okay? Promise you won’t be mad?”

“That depends. What did you do?” He asked, though by the look on his friend’s face, he was certain he already knew the answer. 

“About that…I…might have already…bought us tickets. To go.”

“Charlie…” Castiel said again, not bothering to hide the weariness in his voice.

“You said you wouldn’t be mad!”

“Actually I said it depends. But that’s not the point. You never asked if I would want to attend.”

“Well, that’s because I knew you’d say no.” Charlie snorted, not looking all that sorry for it.

Castiel knew she wasn’t.

“You don’t do anything fun unless we make you, and this is me making you. Besides, you can’t say you’d rather be working late hours in the library of all places, all by yourself, again, when you can be hanging out with the coolest people on the planet! And you know I’m right.”

Castiel sighed again, this time in, albeit reluctant, acquiescence. Not that Charlie would take no for an answer, anyway.

She grinned at the droop of his shoulders, knowing full well that was him giving up the fight. The queen, per usual, proved her right to the title; Castiel was no stranger to loss when it came to arguing with Charlie. He was certain no one was. She got her way in the end, eventually.

“Fine.”

“Yes! No one deserves to be alone on Valentine’s Day, Castiel. Even jaded history majors with a work study in the university library, such as yourself.”

“I’m not jaded,” he defended, turning back to his long since forgotten task of shelving the returns. “My people skills are just…rusty.” 

“Unless they learned to talk back, which would be super cool by the way, burying yourself in work with books as your only company isn’t going to help.” 

That, Castiel surmised, was a lesson he knew all too well.

Ever since her reveal that they would be attending the gala, courtesy to none other than herself, Charlie hadn’t shut up about it. Every chance she got she talked about it with the excitement erring on that of a small child, that Castiel couldn’t help but allow it to bleed into himself, despite his earlier grievances. He still had his doubts of course, feeling rather under qualified for a social occasion such as a dance, but it really did beat staying in library, or worse, in his dorm, all by himself, with nothing to do whilst his friends had fun living life—he’d also rather not have to hear the couple in the room beside him have raucous sexual relations all night. He, too, has learned that lesson the hard way.

“We should go shopping this weekend, make it a whole thing.” Charlie suggested to the table, before stealing some of the fries off Castiel’s plate, having finished her own minutes prior, and popping them into her mouth.

Gabriel snorted. “What makes you think we don’t already have outfits?” 

Meg, who was pretending not to listen, but so clearly was, looked up from her phone with a smirk. “We’ve all seen inside your closet, that’s what.”

“I’ll have you know that everything in there is peak fashion.”

Meg raised a manicured brow. “To whom exactly? The dead guy you inherited it second hand from?” 

“Hey! Thrifting is very efficient, and cost effective. You know, for a college student.”

“You’re a graduate student, mastering in business management, I hardly think you need to be frugal.” She argued, and Gabe crossed his arms, pouting.

“Cassie, you’re just going to let her be mean to me?!”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Meg didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” 

Gabriel gasped, looking thoroughly offended. He shook his head, and sullenly turned back to his own food. 

“Don’t worry, Gabe, we’ll pick something real nice for you. Oh, we can even do a montage!” 

“Sorry, Red. You may be able to get me to tag along at the mall with you, but I’m not going to be participating in that.” Meg said defiantly, her mind already made.

“But…montage.” 

Gabe scoffed, muttering into his lunch. “Forget trying to convince this one, Charles, she’s stubborn. Like a mu-OW!” 

Meg glared at Gabe, who was now rubbing his shin, from across the table. “Finish that, and die.”

“We’ll be there.” Castiel said suddenly, interrupting his friend’s antics. “Unless you’d rather show up naked.” He said this to his brother.

“Ew. Don’t give him ideas.” Charlie scrunched up her face in disgust, and Gabriel let out a laugh.

“Hey! There’d be a lot of people who’d enjoy that kind of show.”

“In your dreams.” Meg said, at the same time of Castiel’s, “not if it got you kicked out.” 

“You lot are so boring.” Charlie whined, finishing off Castiel’s fries too. “Regardless of whether or not you guys are doing a montage, I’m making you watch me do one.”

The four of them set out that weekend to go shopping for outfits, and, although they shared their initial reluctance at lunch all those days prior to their outing, Charlie did, in the end, get her montage(s). Castiel, despite feeling foolish whilst modeling his various selection of outfits—all chosen meticulously for him by Charlie and Meg because he “couldn’t be trusted to put together a coherent look that both fit properly and wasn’t a boring color”—couldn’t have denied his red headed friend in the first place. By the two additional shows they got alongside his and Charlie’s, he figured it was much the same for Meg and Gabriel too. 

Castiel wouldn’t be incorrect in presuming that Charlie already knew this, but he’d be damned if he told her that she was right, that he had fun, of course he did, in time that would have otherwise been spent in solitude brought upon by no one but himself, lest he inflate her ego any further.

With four new outfits under their metaphorical belts, they left their shopping spree in good spirits. It was only natural then, that the overall good mood wouldn’t last, and the playful camaraderie established between the friends would change the second they got back to campus, to blue and red flashing lights. 

“What…do you think happened?” Charlie asked, her expression mirroring what Castiel was sure all their faces looked like in that moment. 

He shook his head in lieu of answering, and swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. 

As they neared the quad, they merged silently with the ever growing group of onlookers, most of whom were peers and faculty, whispers amongst the sea of people seeming all too loud over the eerie blanket of quiet. The cops, separated from them only by a thin barrier of police tape, stood just along edges of the area they cordoned off, no doubt keeping the crowd at bay. They offered no explanation, though Castiel could barely make out the murmured “stay back”s over the dread in his gut. 

He did hear the sharp inhale beside him, however, that was Meg, he was certain, closely followed by a gasp, Charlie, and when he looked over, he saw why.

There, lying just beyond, was a body.

The grass was dark, no doubt stained crimson from blood, and the large gaping wound, from where the skull was bashed in, from which could be none other than its source, was still seeping, still fresh. The eyes stared out, wide and unseeing, as Castiel stared back in abject horror. 

That was when he saw him. Jaw set and arms crossed, just across the way on the other side, stood Dean Winchester. 

The man looked determined, not surprised at all to see the dead body of a classmate, in fact, and Castiel couldn’t help but watch, watch as Dean seemed to assess, seemed to study the crime scene in front of them, as if he was filing it away for later. Castiel recognized that look, because it was one he shared whenever he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Dean looked up then, like he could feel Castiel’s gaze on him, and their eyes met. The moment they did, Castiel remembered—albeit rather shamefully—the way stomach flipped for an entirely different reason than the horrific sight before them. Gabe’s iron grip on his arm was the only thing able to pull his attention away, and so he took the time to check in on the well-being of his friends, but by the time Castiel got the chance to look back, Dean was already gone.

To say the suicide—it was classified as a suicide—stirred up the atmosphere on campus, would be an understatement. Castiel couldn’t remember a time where he’d felt so shaken in his faith, so rocked to the core, raw and open and vulnerable. It was on everyone’s minds, and on everyone’s lips, and it was all anyone heard about the next few days. They didn’t cancel classes, or work, the world still went on—even though their fellow classmate’s’ was cut short, Castiel reminded himself—everything proceeding as normal, as if someone hadn’t just died, and perhaps that was worse.

Castiel didn’t know what he expected, or why he thought it would go differently, but he prayed and prayed and prayed for peace for the lost soul. Still, he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Nor could he get a certain cutting figure, but that was neither here nor there.

The very little information he had was acquired secondhand from the tail-ends of gossip, at work in the library. Apparently, or so the running theory was, the young woman, in a bout of madness, bashed her head against the tree until she dropped. Another student on their way back to their dorm found her and called the proper authorities. Castiel couldn’t imagine being the one to find the body, and he’d seen it for himself that night. He also heard that the woman’s boyfriend was beside himself with grief, most understandably, that not even he believed she would kill herself, that they were happy. She’d begged him to take her to the gala and he’d agreed. 

Castiel also heard that her brains had been sucked out, but he was certain that was just hearsay; she had severe head trauma, after all, it probably only seemed like her brains were gone, when in reality they were just…well.

Shaking his head from his musings, if they’d even be called that, he got back to work, trying to lose himself in the repetitiveness of routine. Charlie had been unnaturally quiet the past few days, the dance quickly overshadowed by the recent events that transpired, and none of them felt it right to change the subject either. Castiel understood, for he was much the same, but he relished in being able to escape feeling for however long his shift was.

“Uh, hey, do you have any books on Gaelic mythology and folklore?” 

Castiel paused what he was doing, and turned to greet the voice—definitely not Charlie this time—only to meet a pair of recently familiar, but quite beautiful up close, green eyes. 

“Oh. Hello, Dean.” He said dumbly, but was rewarded with an amused smirk.

“Heya, Cas. Well, do you?”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “What.”

Dean chuckled. “Have books. On Gaelic folklore.” 

Castiel inwardly cursed his ineptitude, and allowed himself to blink, forcing his basic motor functions to, well, function. 

“Yes. We do. You know who I am?”

Dean regarded him curiously, brow raised. “Well, yeah. You’re friends with Charlie. We’ve never had the pleasure of meeting before, but she does talk about her other friends.”

“Oh.” He said again, finding himself at a loss for words.

Dean didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he still seemed rather amused by it, much to Castiel’s displeasure. 

Instead of dwelling on it, however, Castiel abandoned his cart and gestured to Dean for him to follow, leading the other man to the section where he’d find what he was looking for. 

“If you need anything else, let me know.”

He didn’t ask why an engineering student would need a book on Gaelic folklore, nor did Dean offer up an explanation. 

“Awesome, thanks Cas.”

The nickname stole Castiel’s breath away with a familiarity he wasn’t aware they had, because they didn’t, not really—Dean was just friendly it seemed—also did he say he knew Charlie, she never said anything why didn’t she say anything—and he stood there, lingering longer than he should, awkwardly shifting in place.

“I’m…going to go…now.” He announced unhelpfully, and Dean had the decency not to comment on it.

“You do that.” He replied with a smile, and turned his attention to the shelves.

Castiel, released from whatever hold the other man had on him the second his gaze was elsewhere and no longer pointed at him, quickly made his way back to finish his work, lest he embarrass himself further.

“I wasn’t aware you knew Dean Winchester.” He grumbled to Charlie at dinner that night.

“Dean? He’s my handmaiden, of course I know Dean.”

Gabriel snorted. “Handmaiden?”

“There’s a story to that, I can tell.” Meg said, amused.

Charlie chuckled, a welcomed sound that the group hadn’t realized they missed until they heard it.

“There is, but I’m not telling. A queen’s gotta have her secrets.” 

Meg clicked her tongue disapprovingly, and Gabriel groaned, complaining about “being edged, and not in the fun way” which promptly earned a smirk from Meg, a loud, boisterous laugh from Charlie, and a look of disgust from Castiel. 

There was another ‘suicide’ reported that night.

Castiel was in the hall heading to his religious studies class when he next ran into Dean Winchester. He couldn’t fathom how he went his entire college career without so much as seeing a glimpse of the man, and now he saw him thrice in a matter of a few days. All because their peers appeared to be being picked off one by one. 

There were now an accumulated three deaths since the first, and Castiel’s doubt had steadily increased right alongside the creeping uptick in body counts. He detested his wavering faith in the police, but there was only so many ‘suicides’ exacted in the same manner that they couldn’t be categorized as ‘suicides’ anymore. Two could possibly pass a coincidence, but three was a pattern; he knew that much. He had pondered, however, the reluctance in which the police seemed to label the ‘suicides’ as ‘murders’, but was only met with unease. For there to be murder, which Castiel was already (mostly) convinced was the case, would naturally mean for there to be a murderer.

But wouldn’t he want to know if his life was in danger? He wasn’t sure which option was scarier, but he was positive he’d rather be afraid and knowledgeable than ignorant but afraid anyway. So it was a dangerous doubt, Castiel surmised, since the only conclusion it led to was the authorities withholding the truth, regardless if it was due to their own incompetence or ulterior motives.

Dean looked furious, expression blazoned with a fierce determination, fiery and bright, even from the distance where Castiel stood. It was a devastatingly beautiful look on him, he noted sourly, seeing as his stupid heart couldn’t have picked a worse time to seek out another, and form a ridiculous infatuation that, Castiel knew, would go nowhere, regardless of their connection with Charlie.

He was talking with a much younger man, though, with the boy’s height, one wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance, and immediately Castiel knew this was Dean‘s little brother, Sam Winchester—a freshman in pre-law. Castiel recalled seeing him about, since a lot of their classes were in the same building.

“I’m pretty sure I know what it is, I just don’t know who it is.” Dean growled, crossing his arms in a posing figure, much like the one on the night they first met. 

“We’ll figure it out, Dean. We always do.” Sam reassured, looking all the worse for wear as he said it, however. 

Like he was trying to convince himself too.

“Yeah, but how many people have to die before then, Sammy?” Dean replied wearily, a horrifying dark look casting a dark shadow across Sam’s face. 

Castiel’s chest seized in terror as he witnessed it; he’d never seen such a look on anyone’s face before, a look that, with resounding clarity, should not have ever had a place on the younger Winchester brother’s face. 

“Oh hey, Cas.” Dean greeted as he noticed his approach, shooting a look at his brother before his face slipped into an easy grin.

Castiel noticed he did so with practiced familiarity, as if he was used to putting on a mask, but didn’t mention it.

“Cas?” Sam questioned, at the same time Castiel himself said, “hello, Dean. Sam.” With a cordial nod.

Were they actually investigating the incident? What business did two brothers have in a series of deaths? What could they do that the police already weren’t?

He didn’t think it wise to ask them any of these questions either.

“Hey, Castiel.” Sam said with a little wave, a small, friendly smile smoothing out his expression the same way his brother’s did.

“Just dropping off my baby bro to class.” Dean lied, just as easy as the rest of him, and reached across to ruffle Sam’s shaggy hair.

Sam squawked indignantly, knocking Dean’s hand aside with a rising blush to his cheeks. Dean chuckled at his brother’s embarrassment, which was an action definitely more genuine than anything else previously had been. Castiel had experience with this, after all, being a little brother himself, to Gabriel especially.

“You heading off to one of your smarty pants classes too, Cas?” 

Castiel raised a brow. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I’m heading to my religious studies class, yes.”

Dean chuckled. “‘S’nothing, Cas. Just teasing you. Y’know, cuz you and Sam are both nerds, attending all your boring nerdy classes.” 

Sam shot a glare at his brother, and Cas tilted his head to the side, curiously. 

“Interesting. You seem to regard us as nerds, but you too are one. Perhaps not in the same way, but I would consider you a nerd most of all, considering your area of expertise.” 

Sam snorted, his glare morphing into a smug grin as Dean spluttered. Apparently he had not expected Castiel to come back with such a lethal rebuttal.

“Damn, Cas.” Dean whistled, and Sam nodded his agreement.

“I’ve been telling him that for years.” 

“Unfortunately I’ll be late if I stay any longer. Goodbye, Dean. Sam.” 

He nodded his apologies as he said goodbye, and passed them by on the way to his class.

“See ya, Cas.” Dean said after him, before grunting in what Cas could only assume was an elbow to his side from Sam.

“Cas, huh?” He asked, amused.

“Shaddup!”

“I can’t believe we’re still going to this damned dance, after everything.” Meg mused, wrapping a long, thin section of her brunette hair around her curling iron.

Gabriel snorted, adjusting the cuffs of his creme colored blazer, as he stared at himself in the mirror. They were all getting ready in Charlie’s room, their hangout spot more often than not, since she bought out the double as a premium single (which meant more space and privacy), and could reasonably, and comfortably, fit them all. Though, Castiel shared the sentiment, and often wondered too, why they still planned to go.

It made him uneasy to think that it was just another excuse to sweep things under the rug and pretend everything was normal by the administration, since, aside from the plethora of grief counselors at their disposal, they hadn’t really done much in assuaging any actual grief by divulging in some sort of explanation why people were dying (read: being murdered, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, because people didn’t experience the same bouts of madness that drove them to suddenly kill themselves, all in the same exact manner as the one that succeeded them). He wouldn’t have believed it if he didn’t see it himself. 

Safety, Castiel thought sullenly, apparently came second to whatever the reason was for the university’s decision to proceed as if nothing happened. 

He was also still unsure what the Winchesters had to do with any of it.

“You don’t sound too displeased.” Gabriel commented, smoothing invisible creases on his maroon turtleneck.

Meg shrugged. “Do I like that people are dying? Of course not. But I suppose being distracted by a dance is better than focusing on the fact that life is short, and death is inevitable.”

Gabe groaned, and Charlie made a sound of discontent.

“Okay, yeah, bummer. I mean, at least we have each other, right? It can still be fun…”

Meg grinned, cat like. “Oh I definitely plan to still have fun.”

“Get laid you mean?” Gabriel teased, which only emboldened her. 

Meg turned around, arms opened wide as she presented herself, devastatingly gorgeous in a satin crimson dress, with a black, mesh overlay, and a, in Castiel’s opinion, leg slit dangerously close to her upper thigh. It left little to be desired, but he couldn’t deny she looked amazing in it. Of course it wasn’t a surprise to any of them, since she’d chosen this particular dress during their shopping trip, that seemed so long ago now, rather than just last week. 

“Have you seen me? Getting laid is half the fun. The remaining survivors won’t know what hit ‘em.” She all but purred, and Gabriel shook his head.

“Can’t believe you’d think about sex during these hard times.”

“Oh, and you aren’t?” Charlie quipped back, and Meg laughed.

He was glad his friends could find light in the darkness, but it didn’t sit right with him to participate. He did have the heart to. It didn’t feel right, when a guy lost his girlfriend, and then another girl lost hers. When another person lost their partner right after. And then, just the other day, another guy lost his boyfriend. It didn’t seem like the right time for anything, let alone love.

“Clarence, you okay? You’re awfully quiet over there.” Meg asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“I know it sounds kinda fucked up, but the situation is kinda fucked up.” Charlie added, reaching over to pat shoulder. 

He loathed to be the one to bring down the mood so he forced a smile. “I know, it’s alright. I’m…okay.” 

It was a lie, on every account, and they all knew it, but thankfully none of them pressed him further.

“Well, it’s settled then. We’re gonna go to the gala, just like planned, and we’re gonna have fun, stuff our faces, make fun of drunk people, and maybe get our flirt on.” Charlie said with a determined air of finality, and the rest of their group nodded. 

“Are we all ready?” She asked, having been the first to finish, but looking nothing less than graceful in her fuchsia pantsuit.

Castiel looked down at himself, feeling a bit self conscious in black, slim fitting slacks, and a dusty rose colored dress shirt, his blazer a matching black with light, pink floral patterns, but both Meg and Charlie assured him when he tried it on, that he looked ‘hot’ in the outfit. He wasn’t all too sure he would have used those words, nor did he have desire to look ‘hot’, but he accepted the praise for what it was, and bought it with encouragement from all three of his friends.

He nodded reluctantly, and they all filed out of Charlie’s dorm, looking ready to take on the night. He tried not to imagine the walk to the campus ballroom as a death march to the gallows. Tried to ignore the impending doom settling deep in his gut, to think positive thoughts, about spending time with his friends having fun at the dance, what had been Charlie’s original selling point, when she approached him at work—which seemed like forever ago now—and proposed the idea of going to the dance in the first place.

He failed.

Castiel didn’t know precisely when it happened, but, at some point during the night, he and his friends got separated. He had excused himself to get some air outside in the hallway, away from prying eyes and warm bodies, tightly packed together on the dance floor, at cocktail tables, and hidden in not so secret corners. 

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, when the sound of distant thudding reached his ears, just under the sound of the music, like an undercurrent to the pulsing bass of whatever was playing in the ballroom. 

At first, he attempted to ignore it, truly he did. But it continued, louder and louder and more aggressive; it was too far to discern anything, so, in what must have been a fit of insanity, for the serious lapse in judgment, he pushed himself off the wall and walked toward the sound, curiosity getting the better of him. 

What Castiel witnessed then was no short of terrifying. He rounded the corner, and nearly lost all his breath, watching in frozen terror as someone bashed their head repeatedly into the glass window of a classroom, his knees almost buckling at the wet crunch of their skull cracking against the surface of the glass, icy fractures running up and out like veins in a splintered web as it, too, broke under pressure.

The person was crying, screaming really, hands cupped over bloodied ears, begging for someone to “make it stop, please just make it stop!” When, seemingly all at once, it did.

With one last sounding thump, they slid down to floor, smearing blood and brain matter against the pane of glass, and Castiel was helpless to do anything but watch, an unfortunate bystander to such a vile display, like an out of body experience that rattled his very soul, whilst his real, tangible body, this corporeal form, stay firmly rooted where it was. 

But nothing, and he meant nothing, would have ever prepared him for the absolutely repulsive, ghastly looking, free-floating creature that materialized out of nowhere, before it stuck its long, equally repulsive tongue into the stranger’s head, and (honest to god) slurped their brains out. If Castiel thought what had just transpired was hard enough to stomach, it was nothing compared to watching this…this thing feast on someone who, only minutes prior, had been a living, breathing human.

Eyes wide and full of fearful tears, mind screaming at him to “move, just move, get out of here, run!” Castiel managed to take a step back. Unfortunately for Castiel, the movement was enough to rouse the monster from its food, dead, milky white eyes zeroing in on him and once again stealing his breath away. Choking on a silent gasp, Castiel had just enough time to see it unhinge its jaw, before he finally forced himself into a sprint back the way he came, stumbling only when an ear piercing shriek sounded from behind him, so loud it shook the walls.

An unnatural mist he hadn’t noticed before, sluggishly seeped from the tiled floor, surrounding his ankles, pouring endlessly up and out, creeping along the walls and pooling across ceiling, and out of it came the screaming beast, somehow right in front of him, blocking Castiel’s path. He cried out in pain as it screamed even louder, the sound reverberating in his skull, causing his vision to blur. He reached up to cup his ears, his heart lurching at the warm fluid he felt trickle against his palms. 

He realized that, and perhaps a bit too late, but again with resounding clarity, that this was what had killed all those other people. That this was what was going to kill him.

“Hey, you ugly son of a bitch!”

Castiel snapped his eyes open—when had he closed them, he couldn’t remember—and watched the creature tear its attention away from him, snarling toward the intruder.

“Get away from him!” 

Castiel flinched at the sound of a shotgun round, heard the shells clatter to the floor as the shooter reloaded, but was unable to look away from the thing in front of him as it dissolved into whatever before his eyes, just as quickly as it appeared. And yet, Castiel dared not take a breath, in fear that it would return because he had.

“Is…is it dead?” He asked, realizing the screaming had stopped, despite the residual ringing in his ear. 

“Unfortunately, no. Only pure gold can kill these things.” Dean answered, guiltily.

“Right.”

“But not to worry. Rock-salt rounds are enough to stall them for a bit. Banshees take longer to recover than other spirits, so we have some time.”

Castiel said nothing, and Dean looked over at him, worry in his expression. He reached out, a comforting hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“You okay, Cas? I know that can be…a lot your first time.” 

“First time?” Castiel muttered, brow furrowed.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean had the gall to appear abashed, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Y’know, your first encounter with the…supernatural.”

Castiel hated how he noticed how good Dean looked, even like that.

“The supernatural…” he parroted, as if trying it on for size. 

And suddenly it all clicked in place. He glanced down at the gun, a sawed-off shotgun to be precise, in Dean’s hand, the one that had been used to blast away the banshee. He’d called it a banshee, a spirit, a malevolent fae spirit, from Gaelic folklore. Dean came to the library asking for a book on Gaelic folklore. He’d caught Dean and Sam talking about the murders after that. He remembered the ease at which Dean wore his mask then, how the lie came as free as breathing. The fierce determination radiating from both men, a look that Dean held close to his heart the very moment their eyes locked across the quad on the night of the first, and one Castiel noticed every time they ran into one another thereafter. 

“Cas?”

“Dean.”

“Y-yeah?” Dean furrowed his brow, looking a bit put out by the lack of tone in Castiel’s voice, probably because he couldn’t read the situation anymore, but mostly concerned for, and about, Cas.

“You were investigating. The deaths.” A statement, not a question.

“Uh, kinda? Me and my brother we…hunt the supernatural.”

Castiel recalled how comfortable Dean looked when using the shotgun, the speed in which he reloaded after taking a shot, and hummed. 

“A banshee. Did you hear it too then? You knew what it was.”

“Not exactly. I knew what it was because of the nature of the kills. Only its targets can hear its scream.” 

Castiel closed his eyes and swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I heard it…”

“…”

Castiel opened his eyes, taking in the knowing look on Dean’s face, seeing the guilt and concern and anger—the latter not directed at him—there, all at once, wrapped into one gut wrenching expression.

“Am I going to die?”

“No.” Dean snapped immediately, sounding so sure that Castiel couldn’t help the flare of hope in his chest.

“Their screams are usually a death sentence, Dean. I watched…I watched that person get their brains sucked out. After they…killed themselves. It’s how the others died too, isn’t it? 

“Fuck,” Dean cursed, shaking his head, “sorry you had to see that, Cas. It’s true I was too late to save them, but I will save you. I promise.”

Castiel didn’t feel like reminding Dean not to make promises he couldn’t keep. He really hoped that he could.

Castiel was in the middle of contemplating how mad his friends would be if he didn’t get to say goodbye, if he just left and disappeared without a word, when the walls of the hallway he and Dean retreated to (further, and at a safe distance, away from the ballroom) began to rattle. The lights flickered angrily, and the same mist from before returned, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

Castiel heard its screams before anything else, however, and already knew it was back.

It materialized behind them, and all for Dean’s fast reflexes, he was still a tad too slow to react, and certainly felt it as his back made contact with the floor a good few feet away, after the banshee tossed him aside without even touching him. 

“Dean!” Castiel called after him, only to be brought to his knees by the shrieking to his left, its rancid breath curling against his skin, and raising the hair on the back of his neck. 

He grunted in pain, his ears ringing anew, and blindly struck out with the iron poker Dean had lent him, slumping when it, just as Dean said, disappeared. The relief was momentary, and it quickly reappeared beside Dean, who was still trying to grasp his bearings, looking downright pissed at being thwarted again.

“Son of a bitch-“ Dean’s curse was cut short, or rather, drowned out by another rattling screech, right in Dean’s face. 

It reached out and pinned him down, and he turned his head, trying to wriggle out of its grip. 

“Ugh! Ever heard of breath mint, lady?” 

“Dean…” Castiel breathed, exasperated. He never ceased to be amazed by Dean’s tenacity to joke in the face of danger (literally).

Dean knocked their foreheads together, catching the banshee off guard, and managed to toss it off him, quickly grabbing his shotgun and taking a shot before it had time to recover. It exploded in a fiery cloud of whatever it was made of, and Castiel managed to pick himself up off of the floor, helping Dean up after making his way over to him. 

“Thanks.” He said breathlessly, giving his hand a squeeze. 

Castiel nodded, and didn’t fail to notice the way their hands lingered, before they dropped back down to their collective sides.

“Did you and Sam ever figure out why it’s here?” 

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Our friendly neighborhood banshee is killing people because she’s jealous.”

“Jealous? Of whom?” Castiel asked, trying to make sense of it.

“Us. You know. Lovers, halves of a pair. Whatever. Guess Valentine’s Day stirred up some resentment, some bad memories.” Dean clarified with a shrug.

Castiel knew it wasn’t what Dean meant, when he said ‘us’, but he tried not to blush all the same.

“That’s why they were all people in a relationship?”

“Bingo. Banshees hunt in a particular place until there’s nothing left, and a college campus is basically a feast of couples, so our friend would have been well fed on us for a while, if it wasn’t for Sammy and I.” Dean sighed.

“Just wish we figured it out sooner.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Dean. But if what you said is true, why is she after me?”

“Eh, you got in her way. That, or you’re in love.” He said wryly, and at that Castiel did blush.

“Plus Charlie told me she signed you all up for the gala. Everyone who died so far was on that list. Could be a coincidence but…” Dean trailed off and shrugged again, but shot a smile over to Cas.

“You look really good by the way. Sorry you got caught up in all this. You got all dressed up and now you’re missing the dance, trying to hunt a banshee with me. You didn’t even know this stuff existed until now, and all you’re getting out of it is a ruined outfit.”

Castiel snorted. “And my life. I think surely that’s worth more. Along with everyone else’s life. I couldn’t care less about an…outfit. It was nice though.”

Dean chuckled. “Makes sense.”

“Besides, I didn’t even want to go. To the dance. Charlie made me. My only regret is that I didn’t let her know where I would be. But would you believe me when I’d say I’d rather be hunting a banshee with you, than in there with all those people?

“What, not a people person, Cas?” 

Castiel shot him a deadpan look that made him laugh, and, despite himself, Cas found himself laughing along.

“Yeah. M’not either. Not really. Sure I talk a big game, but there’s only a few people who I can be real with, y’know?”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, when the light above them exploded, and the banshee flew into them, dragging them across the hall and throwing them into the wall on the opposite end of where they had been standing. They crashed into each other, the impact stealing all the breath from his lungs, and they tumbled to the ground in a pile, the banshee’s resounding cackle rumbling the building like an earthquake.

Castiel rolled off of Dean, looking sullenly at their weapons that had clattered to the ground and skidded across the tile just out of reach.

“Damn, this bitch is really getting on my nerves.” Dean grunted out, almost a growl.

“I think I’m starting to share your sentiment.” Castiel managed, glaring at the imposing figure of the banshee, as she floated above them.

This time, when she screamed, both Cas and Dean cowered away from the sound.

“Really wish I had a golden blade right about now.” Dean joked, and Castiel groaned.

“Dean!”

“Sorry.” He apologized, though he didn’t sound that sorry to Castiel at all.

The banshee reached out and grabbed the lapels of Dean’s jacket, as if reminding them she was there, and picked him up off the ground. He scrambled for purchase, struggling in her tight grip, but his efforts were fruitless, and, as she raised them higher, her screaming never faltered.

Castiel reached up, wincing as the pads of his fingers pressed against the weeping wound at his forehead, and shakily lowered them again.

“If you wanted a dance, all you had to do was ask.” Dean quipped, which worked well in keeping her distracted. 

“But any more than that I’ll have to politely decline. Don’t believe the rumors about me, I need to be wined and dined a least once before I put out.” 

With a vindictive screech, Dean went flying again, but this time he was expecting it, and tumbled out of his fall. It wasn’t graceful by any means, but it still impressed Castiel. 

He managed to grab the poker, his shotgun stuck between him and the banshee, and swung it as she charged at him. The moment she disappeared, Castiel scrambled up and tossed the shotgun to Dean, before ducking behind him. 

Grateful that the attention was off him, he got to work, as Dean wildly swung at the banshee, her attacks becoming more ruthless as his hits became more predictable. He glanced up at the two of them, the mist acting as a smoke screen as she disappeared and reappeared, swirling around the poker as Dean used his baseball prowess to hit her every strike and lunge. It was ineffective in the long run, and hardly a long term solution, especially as Dean’s stamina wore out, but it helped Castiel by keeping her distracted once more.

When he finished, he stood up, fixing the banshee with a hard glare, the movement drawing her gaze to him.

“When it’s two against one, make sure to have eyes on both enemies.” He growled out, and as she charged after him, knocking an exhausted Dean off to the side, Castiel slammed his hand down on the blood sigil he made, activating both it and its copy on the opposite side of the hall.

It glowed bright, and in a matter of seconds, the banshee was dragged backward, and trapped against the wall, bound by the line of sigils. She roared, struggling against her invisible tether, mist swirling angrily, lights flickering like crazy, but she remained trapped, her fretting useless against the Celtic blood trapping spell. 

“Holy shit, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, both pride and awe in his tone. 

“You may be a hunter Dean, but you’re not the only one who reads.” 

Dean grinned. “Awesome. How did you know that would work?”

“To be fair, I didn’t. But I figured if banshees were real, then the magic used to trap them must be too. So, while you kept her distracted, I drew the sigils with my blood.”

“Awesome.” Dean repeated, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile back. 

Then, startling both of them out of whatever moment they were just about to have, the banshee suddenly burst into flames with a cry, crumbling like burnt paper into floating, ashy debris, until there was nothing left. 

“What-“ 

The trill of Dean’s phone signaled an incoming call, interrupting whatever Castiel was about to ask, and he looked over curiously as Dean fished the device out of his pocket. 

“It’s Sam.” He explained before picking up. “Sup, bitch. Took your sweet old time salting and burning the body, didn’t you?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. Salting and what-ing the body?! 

“Yeah, fucking thing almost took out me and Cas…” he blushed and glanced over at him, before quickly looking away, and lowering his voice.

“Uh, yeah, that Cas. I mean there’s no other, is there? Anyway Sammy, don’t change the subject. What took you so long?”

Dean snorted. “Excuses, excuses. What? Oh…uh…I don’t know if he’d be up for that.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Well would you if you just got attacked by a banshee?” 

The features then smoothed from his face, and he grinned once more. “You shoulda seen him Sammy, he used his blood to draw these badass sigils and trap the banshee, it was awesome.” 

Castiel felt the heat rising in his cheeks, unsure how he felt about the Winchester brothers talking about him whilst he was right there, and only able to hear only half of the conversation, but mostly he was just embarrassed. 

“Yeah yeah, alright, I’ll ask him. Bye, bitch.” Dean hung up and fondly rolled his eyes, before walking over to Cas.

“Sorry about that. Sammy had only just finished digging…uh well, you don’t need to hear about that, haha, the less you know the better, but the banshee is banished for good now, and he should be on his way back, thank fuck, but he suggested that after we clean up, maybe we catch the end of the dance together, if you-mmph!”

Castiel surged forward, most likely encouraged by the adrenaline still pumping through him—if not for that, he’s certain he would not have been that bold—and sealed their lips together, cutting Dean’s rambling short. 

“Yes.” He whispered between them as he pulled away, Dean blinking away the surprise as his brain rebooted and processed what just happened. 

“Uh…yeah?” Dean said dopily, a smile tugging at his lips.

Those lips Castiel just kissed.

“Yes.” 

“Even though you said you’d rather be fighting a banshee than go to the dance?” Dean asked, sounding amused.

“We fought the banshee.” Castiel replied rather seriously, earning a chuckle from Dean.

“True. Guess we do deserve a reward after that.”

“Besides,” Castiel started with a sigh, “I disappeared without saying anything earlier. I’m sure Charlie, at the very least, is worried about me.”

Charlie was indeed worried about him, but so was Meg and Gabriel, in their own way. After he and Dean cleaned up, including making themselves semi presentable, they entered the ballroom only looking slightly rumpled, and no less for wear than they had already. The trio bounded up to him right away, once they found him, but Charlie couldn’t admonish him for long without acknowledging the man beside him—rather excitedly, might he add.

She jumped up and gave him a hug, which Dean happily returned, only wincing slightly as his sore muscles tugged and flexed to compensate for the weight and movement. He put her back down not too long after, and the second her feet touched the ground, the three of them were on them like a pack of hellhounds.

“You two came in together?” Gabriel asked, smirking.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell us?” Charlie punched both of their arms lightly, and pouted.

“You two came in together?” Gabriel said again, looking even more smug, if possible.

“We looked everywhere for you and couldn’t find you! We thought you might have left, but then you didn’t say anything, or tell anybody if you got back to the dorm safe or not!” Charlie continued, shaking her head in blatant disapproval. 

“You two came-ow!” Gabriel rubbed the back of his head, and pouted at a smirking Meg. 

Castiel, who was scowling at his brother, felt his face smooth out, and Meg rolled her eyes rather dramatically.

“We get it, Gabe, they came in together. Did you fuck?” 

Dean laughed, and shook his head. “No, we definitely didn’t. Cas is too good for a quick fuck like that, anyway.”

Meg nodded her approval, and Castiel groaned, hiding his face in his hands. Gabriel and Charlie both grinned.

“He just went out for air, when I happened to pass by on my way back from the auto-shop. I wasn’t sure I wanted to come to the dance, but then I saw Cas standing there looking like that, well.” 

Charlie squealed excitedly, waving her hands in the air. “This is so awesome! I told you the dance would be fun, did I not say the dance would be fun?”

Castiel and Dean shared a look, a brief moment of silent conversation only they would understand, and Castiel let out a sigh. 

“You did.” He confirmed, though ���fun’ was a vast understatement, and certainly not how he would describe the dance—not that he’d experienced much of it, fighting a malevolent Gaelic fae spirit, and all.

“Aw man,” Charlie said with pout, as if she had a sudden revelation, “Cas is way ahead of us you guys! He wasn’t even here and managed to bring a date. Wait, you guys are here as a date right?”

“Yes, Char, we’re here together, as a date.” 

Charlie squealed again, muttering how she “totally shipped it” whatever that meant, and turned back to their group with more fervor than ever that they “needed to catch up”. This time, however, when they separated, it didn’t bring the sense of dread it did when Castiel first encountered the banshee, and thought for certain he was about to die, without ever having said goodbye.

“I never did thank you, Dean. For saving me earlier. I truly thought I was…well. I didn’t think I would still be here, and I probably wouldn’t have been, if it wasn’t for you.”

“Dude, don’t thank me. You held your own against the banshee too. It was pretty hot.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but smiled. He caught Charlie’s eye across the dance floor, and she gave him a thumbs up. Gabriel caught his eye next, but made a rather lewd gesture that would have appalled him, had Dean not also caught it and snickered, finding it amusing. Meg shoved him, and Castiel smirked as Gabriel flailed about, silently thanking her for once again reprimanding his brother on his behalf. She winked at them before turning away, and Castiel tilted his head to the side, thoughtfully.

“It’s strange to think that not too long ago we were fighting a supernatural creature, and now we’re back at the dance, spending time with our friends like it didn’t happen. There’s literally a body down the hall.” 

“Eh, Sam’s got that taken care of. And nobody will know you were there, or what we did at all. They’re safe, and that’s what matters. That’s the job.”

Castiel hummed, and turned to Dean with an appreciative look. Dean looked back, blushing slightly at the attention, but smiled softly regardless.

“What?” He asked, and Castiel shook his head.

He kissed Dean in lieu of answering, and Dean eagerly kissed back.

[steddieassheg0es]

Jump in the Fire

Eddie Munson doesn’t know how to listen to good sense. Don’t go flirting with pretty boys. Definitely don’t go falling for pretty boys. Don’t go poking around where you don’t belong. Don’t go back into the mall where a giant spider monster is trying to kill your friends… Or: a story of how Eddie Munson stumbles into something so much bigger than he ever planned by walking into Scoops Ahoy. Read or listen on AO3

Author: Me :) @steddieassheg0es / SteddieAsSheGoes AO3

Podfic and Cover art by : @n0connections / NoConnections AO3

Thank you so much to @steddiebang for the Steddie Big Bang 2023, I'm so thrilled to have been involved!

And a HUGE thank you to @n0connections for choosing my fic, creating an amazing podfic, and having endless patience with my temperamental writer brain. I couldn't have done it without you.

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Meteor Shower

Author: @shroomystar

Chapter Count: 1/1

Rating/Warning: Teen and Up Audiences, Depression, S*icidal Thoughts, S*icide, Blood, Implied/Referenced Child Ab*se, Emotional Manipulation

Description: This is a story about two dead people. One way or the other, no matter how you spin it. It has always been.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ghosts, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Falling In Love, Cheating, Tragic Romance, Blood, Implied/Referenced, Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Chrissy POV, One-Shot, Status: Completed

[llycaons]

when offered the choice between slice of life realistic maturity and schlocky drama I DO tend to prefer highly emotional drama. like within reason - preferably there's a sense of maturity and substance to offset the rest but I AM reading fanfiction for famously highly emotional wuxia drama THE UNTAMED after all

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Honor in Crisis

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, NTT, Titans, JLI, Arrowfam, Flashfam, GL Corps, Infinity Inc

Summary: Every chapter will focus on one character specifically and then I'll update their statuses in order.

This is a no powers au/fix-it fic for Heroes in Crisis. I wanted to focus on the characters and their healing. I decided that'd be easier to put some of these characters in a fic like this and work on it more from a real-world perspective. I DO want to say that I do not believe healing is linear so don't plan on a clear-cut happy ending. I'd say (and idk for sure) we're gonna eventually get a bittersweet ending for certain characters but nothing tragic.

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Kole Weathers, Lilith Clay, Eddie Bloomberg, Michael Carter, Michelle Carter, Rani Carter, Grant Emerson, Roy Harper, Grant Wilson, Joseph Wilson, Thaddeus Thawne, Bart Allen, Helen Claiborne, President Thawne, Todd Rice, Alan Scott (DCU), Damon Matthews

Relationship(s): Damon Matthews/Todd Rice

Additional Tags: No Powers AU, Canon Divergent AU, Fix-It Fic, Angst, TW // Suicide Attempt , TW // Domestic Violence Mention (Siblings) , TW // Referenced Child Abuse , TW // Kidnapping , TW // Child Abduction

Chapter Eight: Emesis (Thad Thawne)

Thad lay on his side, staring at the wall while a nurse checked his vital signs. The wall had a peculiar pattern, speckles so close they made designs and spots in some areas. Thad honed in on a collection of spots that looked like a face. "Hi, my name's Nurse Aya. Can you tell me what your name is?" Nurse Aya asked. Thad met eyes with her and took a shaky breath.

"Thad," he answered, "I feel sick." The nurse grabbed an emesis bag and helped him hold it to his mouth while he threw up. Thad had only been in the hospital for fifteen minutes. The EMTs injected him with something that slowed him down, but it made him so sick to his stomach that he thought he'd come down with the flu. The nurse threw the emesis bag in a medical waste trash can, and she checked his temperature. He apologized to her and tried to explain that he didn't have a weak stomach.

"They had to give it to you to get you to calm down," Nurse Aya whispered. Thad looked around.

"Is my brother okay?" Thad questioned.

Nurse Aya regained eye contact and waited for him to calm down. "Your brother is fine. Your brother is fine," she repeated, "Right now, what's important is that you get some rest while you wait for the doctor."

Thad nodded. "My twin's okay?" Thad whispered. Nurse Aya nodded.

"He's alright," Nurse Aya reassured. Thad recalled a fight that happened less than thirty minutes before his hospitalization. He couldn't remember what it was about, but he knew he'd hurt Bart. It was a bloody mess, and he convinced himself that everyone hated him for it. That's why no one came to visit him. He was sure of it.

A man entered the hospital room and waved. "Thaddeus?" the doctor questioned. Nurse Aya excused herself, and Thad nodded. "I'm Dr. Xochipepe. So I feel compelled to ask you if you prefer Thaddeus or some short and sweet form of Thaddeus."

"Thad or Theo's fine," Thad whispered.

"Okay, well, you can call me Dr. Xochi. Zo-chee," he sounded the name out for Thad.

Thad nodded, waiting for the doctor to run tests, but he didn't. "Your brother insisted on telling me you were manic," Dr. Xochi stated, "Would you describe the events preceding your hospitalization as part of a manic episode?"

Thad understood the question, but thinking took so much effort. All he wanted to do was sleep. "I've fought my brother tons of times... But this time, I almost—." Thad looked down at his shirt and rolled onto his back. "His blood's all over me... Does he need anything?"

"He's going home with your uncle tomorrow afternoon... And your cousin said she needed to pick up something for you to wear. You care for each other. I can tell... Thad, have you ever been in residential treatment?" Dr. Xochi questioned.

Thad was hospitalized once before, but he was younger then. A lot younger. Thad nodded and shut his eyes at the thought of it. Then Helen came to get him. And she was safe and warm and everything he'd never had. "I hurt myself when I was a kid because I wanted to get away from my grandpa," Thad answered. Familial kidnapping. The hospital was cold and impersonal. He swore he'd never end up in a place like that again.

And hurting himself was an understatement. Thad jumped out of a car on the freeway, shattering his elbow and hitting his head. When he woke up, he was too frightened to explain why, so he lied. "How long ago was that?" Dr. Xochi asked.

"I was thirteen. That doesn't have anything to do with this. I didn't hurt Bart because I was scared. I don't remember why I hurt him, but I wasn't scared of him," Thad explained. He shut his eyes in the hopes that Dr. Xochi would go away. "I'm not going home tonight, am I?"

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Xochi replied. He asked a handful of common sense questions before asking the difficult questions. "Do you feel like you might want to harm anyone still?"

Thad thought about his question for a long time. "I don't want to... But I think the damage is done. I've never done anything this terrible before. I don't know how any of them could ever forgive me," Thad mumbled, "I wouldn't forgive myself if I were them." Thad lay down again and tried to find the face in the wall. When he couldn't, he shut his eyes again. Thad didn't want to talk anymore. He wanted it all to fade away. Thad hadn't slept in days. He hadn't wanted to. Now, all he wanted was sleep.

"Thad?" Dr. Xochi asked. Thad pressed his face into the pillow.

Thad started crying softly into his pillow. "I don't want to talk anymore. I need some time," Thad mumbled. Dr. Xochi made a soft noise and distanced himself.

Thad curled into a ball and thought about Bart's head cracking against the pavement. It permeated his dreams. Pursued him in nightmares. He didn't sleep long as they woke him and transferred him to the inpatient facility.

It was pitch black outside, but this facility seemed different from the rest. Thad started signing paperwork, and after they checked him in, they offered him a change of clothes. He showered and changed before climbing into bed in the room they assigned him. His roommate lay staring at the ceiling, but he never turned to acknowledge Thad. That was fine. He didn't want to be noticed.

Thad's guilt would've kept him awake if it weren't for the sleeping pill the nurse gave him. His body ached, and his head hurt. Eventually, the pain became an afterthought as his body gave way to fatigue. He ran a bruised hand through his hair and enjoyed a dreamless slumber until he awakened with a jolt to his screaming roommate. Thad turned to the other boy and watched as the nurses did nothing. After nearly a minute of uninterrupted screaming, his roommate laid down and went back to sleep as if it were nothing.

Thad hugged his knees, visibly shaken up by what he'd witnessed. He couldn't go back to sleep after that, so he sat in place until it was time to get out of bed.

[sangrefae]

kissing this addition directly on the mouth (platonically) bc it really highlights every issue i have w kbms as it is in the general fandom sphere

ngl it's kind of sad when people say "can't wait for mithrun to show up in the anime and people realize the SUPERIOR kabru ship" as if that's the most important draw of his character and not the incredible portrayal of disability/addiction through his arc like. please

[liveshauntedmoved]

lzzy, being the one who found her father ; kept elliot and eloise out of the room, refusing to let them see him like that. she called 911, and kept her siblings out of school that day. and she was starting to tr and figure out what the hell she was going to do now

[impish-baby]

Hey, could I have more HIWTHI content please? Possibly with them finding out reader would write in their journal a lot, possibly hinting towards reader having large amounts of self worth issues, and instead of them leaving because no one notices them, reader left because they feel like a burden?

I’m particularly interested in Marcus and the twins reacting.

Also, please make sure to take care of yourself. I love all of your writing, but no one will ever blame you for taking a break. Also, please stay hydrated.

-🌙

👀 close to something that would happen canonically actually!!

HIWTHI cast's reaction to reader's journal

(Trigger warnings: reader's struggles with self worth, mentioned/referenced suicide)

Marcus feels like a complete and utter failure as a father. No matter how cold or stern he is with his children, he does love all of them with everything in him. So the fact that you feel like a burden? That you felt like a waste of space in your own home? He hangs his head in shame.

Doesn't even bother with asking why you didn't speak up, he's well aware that this is his own shortcoming. It's his fault, that's the simple truth of the matter.

Once you are back home, you're required to start therapy. He'll even let you do in person instead of online if you promise to actually give it a shot, Marcus legitimately wants (needs) you to get better. He has no delusions of their being an overnight change, and so he tries to go at your pace.

There's lots of long conversations, firm reminders that you are loved and of value no matter what. Especially at night, he'll sit at the end of your bed and tell you how much you mean to him. He'd go on until he's blue in the face if that's what it takes for you to believe his words.

Clara refuses to believe what she's read for a long while. She knows it's real, she has the proof held in her hands. Just... her child, her baby, was struggling with almost the same thing she was. And she didn't know. She didn't know and now they're gone.

If she wasn't worried about reader before, she's actually terrified now. The worst outcome is going through her mind, because really, what was stopping you from doing something dangerous? Clara is constantly eyeing the news, fear eating her alive.

The next time she sees you, you're getting the tightest hug. The woman sobbing into your shoulder, thanking whatever higher being that her baby is safe.

You aren't allowed to have sharp objects, unportioned medication, or anything that could be used to harm one's self anymore. Clara doesn't care, she's not leaving a chance. She knows what it's like being in that state of mind. She'll be dammed if she doesn't start acting like a mother should and protecting her child.

Jack is bawling his eyes out right away. The pen ink in your diary smudging as his tears hit the paper. You...oh god..

He feels like the shitiest person on earth, he doesn't deserve to call himself an older brother. He knew Jaiden had his struggles, and now this..

He pockets the journal. Jack reads it as some form of punishment. You suffered with this, he'll suffer with it too. When you're back home, he's trying his best to include you in everything.

Movie nights, board games, he comes up with anything and everything so you can spend time together. See? He has fun with you, he likes hanging out with you, you aren't a burden..

Theo feels bitter, resentful. At your parents, at themselves, at the fact that you felt that way. His resolve to find you becomes ten times stronger, there isn't a single doubt in their mind that you need to come home.

Much like Marcus, they'll affirm how much you're loved and wanted any chance they get. Theo cages you in their arms and mumbles praises for what feels like forever. They'll even go into morbid detail about how everyone fell apart while you were gone just to prove how needed you are.

Jaiden is tempted to rip the pages out. He goes through a rollercoaster of emotions.

At first, he's pissed. That you didn't say anything, that you didn't do anything to get help, that you just sat there and felt fucking miserable for years-

He's ashamed. Deeply, deeply ashamed.

It feels.. awkward between you. Jaiden stares constantly, like he's never seen you before. When he finally breaks down sobbing, he's willing to beg at your feet if you'd forgive him for being such a horrible big brother

[birdsbeloved]

If there was one thing Stan could boast, it was the inexplicable way he could calm both Eddie and Richie , even though he had also been the source of many starts of arguments too. That's what most of the losers did for each other, or used to. He hadn't really been around the others as much. "I thought you were going to pass out from the lecture you gave. I don't think I've ever seen him happier than when you go off on a rant about something he's dumb enough to do. 'Sides Bill and Bev I don't think he really listened to anyone other than you, except for when he was beeped." Giving the cloth another pass under the water he squeezes it weakly careful not to pop any stitches. Shit, he saw. Blinking for a moment lips press into a thin line trying to come up with an excuse but Eddie had already seen the bandages. "I uh---" A huff and he pulls his sleeves up revealing both arms from wrist to mid forearm on the left and from wrist to elbow on the right was thickly bandaged. "---I thought I would get in the way. I thought I would get all of you killed and I ... I didn't want to come back. If I ... If I wasn't late... Rich ... Rich might've.... I had really weird turtle dreams before I checked out of the hospital but that might've been the sedatives." He tries to go back to cleaning off Eddie avoiding looking at him. "It's not like I really thought it through so please do not make a big deal about this. Bev wasn't the only one that saw the deadlights back then and that woman was like the first thing that came back when Mikey called."

There was something in the softness of Stanley's voice that lay a blanket across the simmering vibrations of Eddie's bad thoughts, muffling them into a gentle hum rather than the screams he'd grown used to since clawing his way from the sewer. It was a special skill to have, the ability to quieten Eddie's thoughts, especially when paired alongside Stan's additional capability to rile him up when they were kids.

He let the cloth drag across blood-soaked skin, shivering as he tried to block out the image of Richie as he'd last seen him: A step away from death, and blood... so much blood.

But then Stan was pulling him away from those thoughts again, ushering him towards kinder memories that actually managed to crack the lightest smile, the feeling of it foreign enough that it pained him. "Such a little shit," Eddie murmured, remembering just how irate he'd been upon seeing Richie pull up on his bike that day.

"Do you have any idea how risky it is to be here right now? What if your throat starts bleeding and you haemorrhage? You do know there's a reason the doctor told you to stay home, right? Are you out of your mind?"

Catching a glimpse of Stanley's wrist as he wrung out the pink-tinged liquid into the sink, Eddie couldn't help the familiar concern wash over him like nausea. "Are you okay?"