#I saw this figure in my neighbors yard

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Silly Game Time: Have you ever seen or heard a ghost (or what some might've considered to be a ghost)? If so, when and where?

Possibly? Tbh there are times in my life where there are solid maybes but even firmer probably nots. A general love for horror + Poor mental health + not sleeping enough + waaaaay too much coffee = an uptick in ghost sightings lol

The house I live it now, we joke that it’s haunted. Before we moved there- like a lot of years, somebody died there. Sometimes in the 70s or smth the house burned down, and then back in 2021 I think the house burned down. Now the lights flicker a lot, and my door just kinda opens and shuts on its own (it doesn’t latch so it can be pushed open easily, my cats let themselves in quite often)

So tbh, my house might be haunted, but as for generuine ghost sightings I’ve got nothing solid

[systlin]

So, to explain my little adventure I just got back from, it is necessary to set the scene by explaining a few things.

My dog is a Great Pyraneese. She weighs 90 Pounds. It is mostly muscle.

My neighbors a quarter mile down the road have chickens. They like to let them free range.

Now, this is not a problem at all, EXCEPT for the fact that whenever Tyr sees them something deep in her little livestock guardian breed brain goes "Oh, I am supposed to be Responsible for this Livestock." She will attempt to plonk her 90 pound furry ass down as far towards their yard as her leash will permit and want to sit there and simply stare at the chickens. She is not aggressive towards them, she simply wants to lie down and Keep An Eye On Things, the way a good livestock guardian dog is supposed to. It is the same reason she would love to fight the foxes that live under the falling down farmhouse down the street to the death and is very upset that I will not let her.

The PROBLEM is, well

3. My neighbors also have a miniature poodle. She is convinced, in every cell of her 15 pound body, that No Other Dogs Should Come Anywhere Near Her Fucking Yard. She has no concept that Tyr outweighs her by 75 pounds and is absolutely convinced that she could win this fight.

Normally if she's outside she is out in the fenced backyard and this isn't a problem. I also don't let Tyr wander into other yards, because it's rude to let your dog pee on the neighbor's grass unless they've said they're fine with it and also I live in Fuckass Nowhere. There's plenty of county owned grass on the roadside for Tyr to pee on. Still, even if I'm coaxing her along past the chickens, she will want to slow down and drift over to that side of the road to look at them.

TODAY, however, the mini poodle was NOT in the backyard. She was in the unfenced front yard, and as soon as we walked past she saw another dog not ON her yard, but heading TOWARDS her yard, and she hurled herself into battle with no thought for her own safety.

Now, Tyr is not aggressive towards other dogs. There is an exception to this, though, and it is 'unless an off leash dog comes running full speed in the general direction of one of Her People while snarling and barking'. If this happens, I suddenly have 90 pounds of Great Pyr ready for mortal combat on the end of the leash.

This brings us to item 4

4. I broke my left arm in April and while it is healing and good for light use now, 'Light Use' does not include 'restraining 90 pounds of furious livestock guardian dog convinced her person is about to be attacked by a reactive dog'

This means that I looped up the leash short and controlled her one armed. I did not think about this twice particularly. I know I can do it and just. Did it. I wouldn't walk her if I couldn't control her, after all. Once she figured out that no, the poodle was NOT going to attack me, she calmed down, but was still growling.

But I did this as a panicked neighbor dude came running out to try and get his dog, convinced that his kids were about to watch their beloved pet get turned into Great Pyr chow.

Oh and

5. I did this while wearing a Wonder Woman tshirt

So, long story short, his 4 year old daughter is convinced now that I actually AM Wonder Woman, because "She's Strong Like Wonder Woman!" and my neighbor learned that his poodle dug out from under the fence, how's everyone else's days going.

(All dogs unhurt)

[davinawritings]

You can write werewolf × reader!Fox fem (enemies are lovers), where we constantly tease him)) (fuck)

Pairing: Male Werewolf x Fem Fox Hybrid Reader

Warnings: Sex, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding, creampie, knotting

I hope you enjoy ❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

Realistically, your feud with your massive werewolf neighbor was not something you should spend so much time and energy on. In all fairness, he started your little feud when he trampled over your flower garden on his way back from one of his runs. 

You confronted him once you saw it, and he told you to stop being so sensitive and grow more flowers. From that point on, he became enemy number one. If he wanted to be an asshole, you would be petty and make him miserable. It started small with things like sending him anonymous packages that shot out hot pink glitter when opened and sprinkling his entire front yard with orbeez the night before it rained. He always matched your energy, giving just as good as he got. 

Months later, you needed more ideas. However, a new thought pops into your mind as you see him arrive home from a run. You have lived next to him long enough to know his rut should be starting tomorrow, and he is always particularly wound up the day before. 

What better way to torture your werewolf neighbor than to tease him right before his rut? You quickly run to your bedroom and change into a very short sundress, deciding to forgo panties. 

You make your way to his house and knock on the door with a sickly, sweet smile. Upon noticing your presence, he answers the door with his usual scowl. His voice is gruff and slightly raspy as he asks, “What do you want?”

His voice sends tingles straight through your core, and your brain falters momentarily as you take in his scent. Your pussy begins to slick with arousal, and you squeeze your thighs together. You recover quickly, watching as his eyes rake over your figure and his hands clench, his claws biting into his skin.

You bat your eyelashes and reply, “Well, I was going to make some cookies and realized I am out of sugar. I was wondering if you had any I could use.” He looks at you skeptically before he licks his front teeth and says, “No, I don’t have any sugar.” 

You give him a pout, smiling internally as you watch his eyes flicker to your lips. “Ok. I figured, but it was worth a shot”, you say as you begin to make your way back down the steps of his front porch. 

Right as you get to the last step, you give a small jump to get down to the ground. The small rush of air causes the short skirt of your sundress to rise. You use your tail to flick the skirt even higher, clearly showing your lack of panties and spreading your arousal through the air.

You make it one more step before his strong arms pull you back and into his large chest. He dips his head low, his snout brushing your ear as he says, “You shouldn’t have done that, little fox. I have been fighting for control since I opened the door to you in this fucking tiny sundress. I’m starting my rut, and you decide to come over here and put your ass on full fucking display. This slutty little body is just begging to be bred and knotted”. 

You know you should stay strong and pull from his arms. This is supposed to be you teasing him, not giving in to him, but as you feel his massive cock rub into your lower back, you can’t help but moan and rub back against him. He growls before pushing you onto your hands and knees right in the front yard. 

“Wait, we need to go inside. People could see us”, you say, moving to get back up. He places one of his hands on the back of your neck and shoves your chest against the ground; your ass is high in the air as he flips the bottom of your dress up and over the small of your back. 

“I don’t think so, little fox. You weren’t so concerned about others seeing this perfect little ass. I’m going to fuck you and breed you right here where everyone can see you being my little slut”, he says. Before you have a chance to respond, he thrusts inside of you, and you scream out at the stretch. 

He sets a brutal pace as he fucks you with the sole purpose of knotting and breeding your tight cunt. You can’t help but meet him thrust for thrust, as he rearranges your insides. He manages to hit every fucking nerve ending in your dripping pussy, pleasure crashing over you in tidal waves. 

You should be embarrassed by the spectacle he is making of you. A small glance up shows that your neighbors are indeed watching him breed you; your moans and screams clearly caught their attention.

He leans down and gives a low chuckle as he feels you cream all over his cock again. He gives your ear a little nip before teasing, “You like this, don’t you? Everyone watching me claim and breed you. I can feel your tight cunt cumming all over my cock, and you haven’t even gotten my knot yet, little fox,”. 

You can’t even respond, too overwhelmed with pleasure as he gives your ass a harsh smack, grabbing your tail and pulling on it to drag your pussy back to him with each thrust. 

His thrusts speed up and become harsher as he works to fuck his knot inside you. Your nails dig into the dirt as he gives one last push, his knot popping in and splitting your pussy wide open. Your scream as you cum harder than ever before, your legs shaking and tears pouring down your face as your try and fuck yourself back on him as much as possible. 

He moans loudly as his cock finally starts filling you up with his seed, his knot keeping everything locked in tight. He holds your trembling body close to his own as his orgasm finally comes to a stop, your pussy and womb overstuffed and full of him.

He holds your lower half against him tightly, trying not to jostle you on his knot too much as he stands. He begins returning to his house as he says, “Get ready for when my knot goes down, little fox. That was just a taste; I haven’t even truly started my rut yet, and you haven’t seen what I plan on doing to this gorgeous little body now that no one is watching”. Your cunt clenches around his knot, already excited for what’s to come. 

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

[slippinninque]

🏡A Little Neighborly Favor 📻

Terry Richmond x blackfemreader

In which Terry answers a call.

warnings: spicy-fluff, sensual moments, neighbor!terryrichmond, just a little something, long fic

No matter what Terry did, he couldn’t keep you off his mind. Terry ran 10 more miles than he normally would and decided then decided that it would be a good idea to figure out the soft clicking he thought he could hear in his motor.

After that, he just decided to take a good look inside of his car just to feel productive. 

Yet–his mind always wandered back to you. His next door neighbor. In all the time that the two of you kept to yourselves, it was you hopping his fence to capture another neighbor’s escaped cat that initiated your relationship. 

The next few seasons the two of you danced around each other, not yet finding a reason to cross that final line. All the while he felt his weakness for you growing, his need to have more of you becoming harder to ignore. 

If you invited him on a late night run to the ice cream shop, he would be going. A call for him to come over the fence to enjoy early morning barbeque–Terry is crossing over the fence and reaching for a plate. Whatever it was, Terry couldn’t think of any reason to not accompany you. When you challenged him to provide you with a playlist after sharing an earbud, he hopped to it that evening.

He didn’t expect to be given one in return. A good one, at that. In the way that Terry understood that his earlier fears of being too heavy-handed with his song selection we're unfounded.  

In the background, the next song played from his phone–the opening notes making him pause to check the name. Intergalactic Janet by Ley Soul, what would be the fifth or so song on the playlist that you sent to him the other night.

Terry was in the middle of checking his dipstick when his phone rang out. A quick glance at the name made him scramble to grab the device. He took a deep breath to calm himself and answered with a smooth greeting. 

“Hey, I hope it’s not too late…I saw the light on, so–

“No–it’s more than fine. What can I do for you, little lady?”

A laugh floated through the receiver, he imagined you switching your phone from one shoulder to the other.

“It’s so strange, I think you cursed my speaker.”

“Me?”

“Mhm. ‘Cause I was listening to the playlist you gave me and the last song, it stopped playing!”

Terry’s heart stomped in excitement but he hummed questingly into the phone. 

“I know. Since it’s been cursed–by your hand specifically…I would much appreciate it if you help me in finishing your playlist.”

Terry had to put hand over his heart, looking up at the ceiling of his garage to call upon all of the charisma in his bloodline. Your tone betrayed no broken speaker, no hardship at all–in fact, he might have heard music. 

“Of course–it’s only right that I take care of it. Hm?

“Mhmm.”

“Yeah. So, how about this? Give me 15 minutes to get this work off of me and I’ll come to help you finish listening.”

“Thank you, Terry, I’d really appreciate it.”

Terry shivered at the tones of your voice, all coy and agave, “Of course. See you in 15.”

Once he was sure the phone call ended properly, Terry whooped and clapped his hands before taking off for the shower. He smelled like car grease and sweat, Terry wouldn’t dare offend you with his stench. He scrubbed himself and tried to keep calm but could only imagine what was waiting for him.

Terry exited through his side door. For a moment, he took in the cool silence of the block. There were cars going a few blocks over, nearer the main street. He could hear conversation a few doors over, the elderly couple wine on their back porc most likely. Terry walked your shared fence line, peeking through just to see the strings of lights you’ve draped over your bushes. 

He easily hopped the fence into your yard, behind your garage. Terry was careful of your planted flowers and little trees as he followed after the glow of  the strongest light,  coming from above your back door. Terry saw the muted light coming from the curtains in the room above, he believed it to be your bedroom.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention to the darkened back porch. Terry didn’t even hesitate to come into your space, closing the door behind him gently and locking up.

“Terry? That you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Anyone else would be buried in his backyard come dawn. Terry knew his way around your first floor by now and soon arrived in your living room. Terry took in the sight of you waiting for him in the recliner nearest he troubled speaker. It was charming, retro fashioned but equipped with modern capabilities.

“I just can’t figure it out.” 

“That so? And you said it played through until the last song?”

“That’s right–darndest thing. I think I heard a little bit of it before it went out–

He grinned as he watched your eyes ran up his form, “And then you called me.”

“Exactly. Then I called you.” 

“Let’s see if I can find your problem, then…”

Terry could smell vanilla when he approached the stereo–your brown skin glistening, your dark hair shining. He touched the top of the radio as he couldn’t take his eyes off you, off the spread of your thighs in the recliner or the incline of your head as you looked up at him. 

You stood to watch Terry as he tried to figure out what you did to the poor radio. The shadow of your body was at the center of the caftan you wore, the sight too much for him to linger on.

“I think I found your problem,” Terry cleared his throat as he bent down to plug in the stereo. The bluetooth’s light flashed for only a moment until going into a victorious chime. Terry turned the knob, the smooth melody filling the living room.

You put a hand to your cheek, “Oh, goodness! I feel so silly now…”

“No need for that. Glad to be neighborly, as always.”

/ I've been looking at you all night

Oh, baby, I've been thinking 'bout you (thinkin' 'bout you)

And all of the things I want to do

Once the day becomes the night /

Space lessened and Terry was offering his hand. When your hand slid into his, you were pulled into a tender sway. The two of you tucked closer together, your hand to his chest and his lips near your ear. The ache that the tension between you finally eased. Being ‘neighborly’ was good and all, but it was clear that the two of you couldn’t just stop there. Terry, for one, could see himself knocking down that fence that separated your two properties.

October’s bridge filled the room and Terry’s other hand spanned across your lower back. You took your hand away to put your arms around his neck. Terry’s hands wandered lower, caressing and rubbing as you grinned into the skin at your lips.

“You know how to make a mean playlist, Mr. Richmond.” You said softly, “I can safely say it has no skips for me.”

“Hmm, that’s good. Especially after I tried my hardest to impress you.”

/ Oh, I've been waiting, baby

Waiting for a long time (waiting on you)

For your heart to be mine /

“You wanted to impress little ol’ me?”

/ Oh, before someone else comes to mind

But when you (ooh-ooh)

Oh, when you told me /

“I’ve never wanted nothing more.”

/ That I was the one, girl (oh, baby)

I took every hour and minute, babe

Just to make sure that everything is right (ooh) /

“What will you do now, then?”

Terry licked his lips as he watched yours sweeten into a smile. Oh, he couldn’t go too long without that now that he’s seen it so close. Back lit by the lamp’s glow, complimented by your eager gaze. He reached out to put a thumb to your plush bottom lip. Your eyes 

“Now? Now I keep up the streak.” Terry paused to shut his eyes as you ran your nails lightly along the back of his neck, “Is there anything else you’d like for me to help you finish? Before we get…sidetracked?”

“Oh no, the side track is what I’m trying to finish next…”

Emboldened by your wink, Terry purred out a laugh and lifted you into his arms. Following your directions between kisses,  he navigated the two of you upstairs. 

/ Take me, oh, take me, baby (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)

Oh, baby

Take me back to your place" (your place)

Ooh, your place of residence (oh, your place, baby) (ooh)

So, she said (ooh)

"Take me, oh, take me, baby (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)

Oh, baby

Take me back to your place / 

---------

✨ending notes✨: this song pulled out a couple of fics out of me 🤣 this was the one finished the fastest lol! Tell me what you think! I'm still getting a feel for Mr. Richmond but I think we're getting to know each other now 😌 please comment and reblog! Thank you so much for reading!!! 💜💕✨💜💕💜💜💕

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @blackerthings @notapradagurl7 @theereina

@brattyfics @chaithetics @kindofaintrovert @educatorsareslutstoo @miyuhpapayuh

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!

Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺️

Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!

If You Bite My Hand Again

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.

WORDCOUNT: 6.6k

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.

A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long. 

As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh. 

The dreams weren’t uncommon. 

Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten. 

As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake. 

The tremors in your hands persist.

You never should have met him.

—

Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom. 

It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”

The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.

Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley. 

Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy. 

Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.

He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.

The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”

You smile and stand straighter. 

“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?” 

“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance. 

“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.” 

“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.” 

Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.

“You’re being mean! Apologize!” 

“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords. 

He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him. 

Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.

The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold. 

“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”

“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin. 

A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more. 

You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him. 

After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift. 

The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you. 

“Call me Ember.” 

A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter. 

He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.

“...Simon.”

You walk together the rest of the way.

The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you. 

—

You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing. 

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.” 

Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now. 

And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort. 

You hate that it only comes from the memories of him. 

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf. 

Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories. 

Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock. 

Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace. 

“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted. 

“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.

Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.

Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine. 

Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight. 

In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt. 

“Ember…” 

Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper. 

There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right. 

He left. 

“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough. 

There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears. 

His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.

Simon.

You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways. 

His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall. 

“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.

Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing. 

The same boy you still loved. 

The same boy who’d broken your heart.

—

After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny. 

When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment. 

Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.

When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down. 

When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.

So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.

You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you. 

The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned. 

He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life. 

In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free. 

You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see. 

While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.

He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast. 

It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle. 

“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.” 

“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist. 

He was shaking slightly. 

“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”

You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you. 

In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths. 

But something went wrong on one of his deployments. 

Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet. 

Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months. 

You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance. 

He didn’t let you touch him. 

And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words. 

‘Don’t look for me.’ 

And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together. 

All of those years. 

All those vows and shared nights.

And he disappeared on you.

—

You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided. 

More like chucked at his gut.

No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs. 

Simon’s avoiding your eyes.

“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages. 

“I’ll be fine in a while—”

“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend. 

And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.

The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness. 

His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.” 

Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?

Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.

So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock. 

You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders. 

“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.” 

You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank. 

He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it. 

“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”

“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t. 

“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”

“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.” 

He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again. 

“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”

You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes. 

“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.

Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours. 

“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”

“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes. 

“But you did.”

“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!” 

Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen. 

“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”

“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!” 

Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly. 

“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”

“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.” 

You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.” 

He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe. 

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…

Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor. 

A pact of loyalty. 

Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.

He asks the first thing that comes to his head.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.

“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life. 

You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet. 

“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”

Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself. 

He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?” 

“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”

His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath. 

“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.” 

You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon. 

Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?

Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he? 

How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through? 

Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even. 

The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth. 

“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—” 

He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip. 

Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.

Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.

“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.” 

Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid. 

“Ember…”

“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern. 

It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.  

You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters. 

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking. 

“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.

“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath. 

“Need you t’know it.” 

“...I do.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment. 

You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy. 

“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain. 

In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up. 

Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks. 

“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”

“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head. 

“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself. 

Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.” 

Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax. 

Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.

Nearly. 

“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you. 

“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”

“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it. 

A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way. 

Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.

Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence. 

If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist. 

It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name. 

“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long.  Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.

He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not. 

Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?” 

“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?” 

You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.

You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you. 

With you survival became secondary. 

Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years. 

“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”

You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin. 

“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”

“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.” 

Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill. 

“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”

“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist. 

“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.” 

That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth. 

And he’d give you it. All of it. 

Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.

So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time. 

And you’d both never slept better

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[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎModern Americana౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: nudity pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: billy time travels into the present author’s note: based on our chitchats as of late! I hope you like <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The crash sounded like it came from your backyard.

You looked up from your laptop, eyes darting to the window. Could the raccoons be back? They'd been terrorizing your garden for about a month now, and you'd just about had enough of it. The noise, not the raccoons. They were feral, but every time you looked out and saw their adorable little faces your heart melted a little bit.

Standing up and stretching, you made a mental note to call your grandfather in the morning. He owned the property you were staying on, and he'd be able to sort things out with the little creatures. But for now, you padded over to your window, tugging at the hem of your tank top. You wanted to see them at first, maybe catch a glimpse of their cute fluffy ringed tails before they darted into the night.

When you flipped on the porch light, there was nothing to be found. No masked wildlife, not even a tuft of fur. You frowned, tilting your head. Maybe it was something from one of your neighbor's yards? But it had sounded so close to you-

There it was again. That clatter, like someone had been thrown against the wall. You snatched the baseball bat leaning on the side of the porch railing, holding it at the ready as you leaned over, trying to see into the dark. The glow of the lights didn't extend to the side of the house, but you tensed when you saw something moving.

Crouched and leaning against the wall, the shadow was shifting, like it was looking around. You gripped the bat in one hand, your phone in the other. The police were only a dial away.

"Hello?" you called tentatively, not daring to leave the safety of the porch. Besides, you'd forgotten shoes, and the grass was probably cold. "Is someone there?"

"¿Quien es?" The voice was quiet, but you still jumped back. So it was a person. You hadn't heard the telltale creak of the fence swinging open. How had they gotten in, you had no idea. You still didn't lower your weapon. This was how serial killers got people after all. By acting weak and innocent. While you were sympathetic, you weren't stupid.

"Come out." The two words were spoken with more confidence than you knew yourself capable of. You weren't sure if whoever it was would even understand what you were saying. Trying again, you repeated their words. "¿Quien es?" Who's there?

The shadow rustled. You lowered your phone. "I'm not going to do anything," you risked, craning your neck and squinting. "Just come into the light. Are you hurt?"

When the figure began to move, straightening and standing up, you gripped the bat with both hands. They could be armed, and you could at least bonk them over the head from your elevated position on the porch.

The dry grass rustled as they moved forward, shadow looming a few feet ahead. You couldn't tear your eyes away as a tall man made his appearance, hat shading his eyes.

His clothes were the first thing you noticed. Dusty and faded, indicating years of use. From the style of his shirt to his boots, he looked like a Western cowboy. Was it a costume of some kind?

You held the bat firmly. "Who are you?"

The man held up his hands, tilting his head to upwards to meet your eyes. "Billy."

"Billy," you repeated, still holding the bat up. "Why are you dressed like a cowboy? Why-" you gestured to his belt. "Is that real? The gun?"

He looked taken aback, maybe even a little offended. "'course it's real."

Caught off guard, you tried to shake it off. "Okay, just checking." You gripped the bat tighter. "What are you doing in my yard?"

Billy was determinedly meeting your eyes, averting them from wandering any lower than your collarbone. "I don't know how I got here."

"Are you drunk or something?" He didn't seem like he was under the influence. Now that he was looking at you, you could see how blue his eyes were. And they didn't have that hazy look like he'd taken something.

"No, I..." Billy dropped his hands, taking off his hat on the way down. His brown curls were messy, flattened almost. The sight sent a twinge into your heart. He looked so...vulnerable. Helpless almost. "I was comin' downstairs an'...an' I heard someone. Then I blacked out and now I'm here." His hat moved between his hands as he twisted it, seeming nervous.

You knew liars, especially male ones. They permeated your life, crawling up and down the lengths of it and sometimes nesting there. Over the years you had learned their telltale signs. The shifty eyes, the tone that was ever so slightly off. Your knowledge on this subject was all engraved into your body as if a part of your genetic code.

Which is how you knew Billy was telling the truth.

Exhaling softly, you set the bat down, moving down to the porch steps, closer to him. He was standing in front of you, hands at his sides now, gun belt low on his hips. You were puzzled by it. Why did he need to have a gun so close? Was that even legal?

Sitting on the porch steps, you patted the spot next to you. He hesitated, but took it, eyes trained on the ground. You watched him for a minute. Heavy accent, strange clothes. Resting your elbows on his knees, you gestured to his body. "Is this a bet or something?"

"No." Again, he seemed mildly offended. You sucked in your cheeks, looking at the ground.

He spoke after a brief moment of listening to the sounds of the neighbors, from their cars to their doors shutting. "Y'know, if you've gotta horse, I can be out'f your hair by morning."

"A horse?" you raised your eyebrows.

He half-smiled. "Don't know a better way to get around."

You started to laugh until you realized he was serious. Furrowing your brow, you stared at him for a second, an idea forming in your head.

No. It sounded impossible, but you really weren't sure. All the signs were pointing to it. Almost like the roots of a tree grown from a strange kind of seed, realization sprouted into your mind. Turning your gaze back to Billy, the question fell from your lips before you could figure out a graceful way to ask. "What year do you think it is?"

He raised his eyebrows as if it were obvious. "1881."

Oh.

The way he said it so effortlessly, his direct eye contact, the little nod as if he were trying to convince you of something. A cold feeling ran over you like water, and you put it together before you fully realized. Your eyes lingered over the leather suspenders holding his pants up, and the old-fashioned handle of the gun sticking out of his belt.

Your heart told you that you weren't delusional. It was real.

Exhaling softly, you met Billy's gaze. If you hadn't already decided what to do, the bright blue you were looking into would have done it for you.

"Hold still." You reached for the buttons of Billy's shirt and he immediately stepped back.

The crease in his brow was almost adorable. "What are you doing?"

You raised your eyebrows. "You can't take a shower with your clothes on."

He shuffled on his feet, looking down. "Do I hafta?"

"Billy you look like you've been sleeping buried underground," you said, exasperatedly. He pursed his lips and you folded your arms. "You'll feel better when you're cleaner."

Lifting his eyes to the shower behind you, you saw a world of confusion in them. "It looks like it's gonna hurt me."

"It won't," you promised, reaching for his collar and tugging on it. "I use it every day. Now could you please take your clothes off?"

Frozen for a second, you wondered if he would actually do it. It'd been a miracle you'd been able to convince him to remove his boots and leave his gun belt at the door. His hat was sitting on your kitchen counter. And you were well aware that standards had morphed over the last centuries into something nearly unrecognizable, but it hardly mattered now.

Maybe you should have been more concerned about finding a cowboy in your backyard. After all, he'd appeared out of literally nowhere, looking and talking like he was from a different time.

But he didn't at all seem dangerous. Just...lost. And so here you were, standing with him in your bathroom and trying to get him to undress.

Billy looked away, refusing to meet your eyes. The lighting of the bathroom only made it apparent how dirty he really was. You could see dirt dusting his face, sprinkled at his collar. If you wrung out his clothes you were sure the water would turn brown. "I...fine. How d'ya work this thing again?"

You smiled, turning around to demonstrate. "Turn it on like this-" the shower water hissed as you twisted the handle. "And you can adjust the water to be hot or cold." Leaving the shower on, you looked back at him. "I'll leave you alone. Yell if you need anything."

It took a lot not to laugh at his relieved expression when you said you would give him some privacy. But you kept a straight face, hoping you seemed reassuring. "I'll get some clothes for you, okay? And wash these after you're done." You tugged on his collar once again, and the side of his mouth twitched up.

The shirt and sweatpants you fetched used to be your ex's, but he never came back for them after the breakup. You were happy to have a reason to use them now, instead of being haunted by their presence in one of your drawers. Slipping into the bathroom, you set them on the closed toilet seat, where you knew Billy would see them.

As you bent down to retrieve his old clothes, a thud echoed from behind the shower curtain. You gasped, standing up. "Billy?"

For a moment you only heard the steady flow of the water. Then, "I fell."

"Oh-" you automatically moved to the shower but hesitated. "Do you need help?"

A pause. "Which soap do I use again?"

"Let me just-" you pushed aside the shower curtain to reveal a wide-eyed Billy. His mouth opened and he started to shake his head, but you cut him off before he could speak. "I'm not gonna look at you. Just let me help."

He stared at you, hair sticking to his forehead in curls. You did your best to resist following the path of the water trickling down his chest. His hands were occupied, covering a certain area between his legs.

You lifted one leg at a time, stepping into the tub. It was rare that you actually used the second half of the double-function shower, but sometimes you daydreamed about the option. Billy stared as you stepped under the spray with him, still in your shorts and tank top.

When he realized what he was doing, he averted his eyes. "Sorry-"

"No, it's okay," you said gently, reaching for his elbow. "Could you sit down? I can't reach you from here."

He followed your lead, bending his long legs so his back was against the wall. You reached for the bottles of soap, ignoring how strange it felt for your clothes to stick to your skin this way. Pushing a string of wet hair behind your ear, you flipped the shampoo bottle upside down and squeezed a little into your hand.

Billy shifted to the side, back facing you so you could reach him easier. You uttered a quiet thank you before sinking your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. His body was perfectly still, but he tilted his head back just slightly. You smiled when his shoulders untensed, and he murmured a soft "Thank you."

Repeating your motions with the conditioner, you nodded at the third bottle beside it. "Use that one to wash your body. Everywhere."

"Doesn't the water do that?"

"Billy-" you smiled, tilting his head back to wash the soap out. "When you get out, I've got clothes for you on the counter. I can wash your old ones."

"Thank you," he said, turning his head over his shoulder briefly. Billy bit the side of your cheek, then asked, "What year is it again?"

"Twenty-twenty-four," you said, smoothing his hair. "Pretty far in the future."

He swallowed, giving a single nod. "I have a lot of questions."

"That's okay," you said, squeezing his shoulder. "Just finish up in here and you can ask me anything you want."

Billy faced forward again. "Alright."

You stared at his back for a moment, following the bumpy line of his spine. He was strong- you could see it in his back muscles. After he was done interrogating you, maybe you would ask something of your own. What had he done for a living? Did he know what brought him here?

Shaking it off, you got up, and he took your cue, doing the same. Turning around, Billy drew you into his eyes once again, and you tried not to gape at his chest. There was no doubt about how handsome he was. Pictures from the 1880s didn't do their men justice.

Looking into each others eyes, you felt something undeniable there. A pull that nearly brought you into his chest, a feeling that was far to strong for having just met him. And yet, you felt as though he was an old friend. Someone you were destined to know. It was nearly electric; hotter than the water pouring from the showerhead.

"I'll go," you said, tearing your eyes away and looking down. "Just twist the knob to the right when you're done. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Okay," he breathed, and you took that as your cue to step out. Pushing aside the curtain and wiping your feet on the rug, you took your brush and combed your hair out before exiting the bathroom promptly, scurrying to your bedroom to change into fresh pajamas.

Maybe ones that wouldn't cause your cowboy to look away.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Dads, Dads, and more Dads

I did something I shouldn't have! My buds all bailed on our night out, so I hit the bar and got hammered by myself. Somehow, I ended up blackout drunk in a fortune teller's shop. I remember crying about how much I wanted a fatherly figure in my life. She did this weird ritual to make me feel better. I thought it was a joke at the time, but I know now it wasn't...

"Buddy, get out of bed! Breakfast is ready!"

A pang of guilt empties my stomach. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling with absolutely no urge to eat. It's been two days since that fortune teller put a curse on me, and I have no idea how to live with myself. I obviously can't pretend her little ritual wasn't real anymore.

"Hey, Josh," I nervously answer, stepping into the kitchen to look at my roommate.

"Can't sleep all day, buddy. Eat up!" Josh gives me an endearing smile that sends shivers down my spine.

A few days ago, Josh was a lazy, rude asshole who was only good for paying his part of the rent. We were chill enough roommates, but he only ever talked to me when he wanted a second opinion on girls he saw at the gym. The guy was easily the biggest douchebag in our friend group, always showing off and making someone else the butt of his joke.

Looking at him now, I'd laugh! If only I didn't feel so guilty for his personality's erasure.

"Look at the time! I better get moving. That yard won't maintain itself!" Josh flashes the brand new watch on his wrist. The thing is clunky and old: the kind of wristwatch you'd expect a dad to wear.

"You know we're only renting this place for the semester, right?" I search his expression for any trace of the slimy old Josh, "The landlord is supposed to take care of the yard!"

Josh just chuckles and mutters something about wanting to impress the neighbors. He even has the audacity to reach out and tussle my hair. My face gets hot as a guy, only a month older than myself, treats me like a child.

That curse really screwed up his brain. When Josh found me the morning after, something just broke in him. He immediately jumped to my side and promised to help me nurse my hangover, and it didn't stop there. After he tucked me in for a nap, he drove straight to the mall, buying a whole new wardrobe of cargo shorts and polos. I thought he was just hitting the gym like usual, so when he came back dressed up like the suburban father he hates, I barely even recognized him.

"Have a good day, buddy!"

Josh ignores my protests and plants a big smooch on the back of my head before marching out of the kitchen. It was bad enough my roommate was calling me buddy! Does he really have to kiss me like that too? It makes me uncomfortable to see my scummiest friend infused with such insane paternal instincts, but this is kind of what I asked for. Right?

I slam the back door shut and look at my rusty old bike. Today is already getting on my nerves and I'm not in the mood to peddle all the way to class. Maybe, that guy next door hasn't left for work yet...

"Oh, hey there, Kiddo!"

The deep voice of my neighbor makes me relax a little. I see all six and a half feet of him climb out of the car and stare at me with the same look Josh had on earlier. He's a father of four, but ever since my night out, he looks at me like I'm him his only real son.

"Hey, Mr. Jones," I mumble back.

"Glad I caught you, Kiddo. I was just about to pull out of the driveway," he explains, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "You want a me to drive you to class today?"

I push aside my feelings of guilt and manage a smile, "That'd be great."

Mr. Jones beams back brilliantly. He claps me on the back, which knocks me a bit off balance. Before I know it, he's guiding me into his passenger seat and asking me to hold his briefcase.

"Just let me text work to let them know I'm coming in later than normal," he adds while texting on his flip phone, "How are classes going, kiddo?"

I shrug off the question with a one-word answer. Now that everyone's forced to act like my dad, I get asked about my classes like twenty times a day. My thoughts drift, but Mr. Jones keeps up the conversation, lecturing me about good grades or something. I don't know how a guy who barely knows me can have so many opinions about my academics!

"You know what!" I cut him off just before he starts reminiscing on his own college years, "Just drop me off at this cafe."

Worry lines form on his forehead, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you the whole way?

"No. Just give me some cash."

Mr. Jones gives me a look of disappointment before shimmying his wallet out of his khakis. He counts off forty dollars and hands it over.

"Can I have a little more?" I press quietly.

Look, I know it's wrong to abuse this bizarre new dynamic between us, but I'm a poor college kid! If he doesn't want to give me his money, he can just say no. It's not like I'm holding a gun to his head!

"Sure thing, kiddo," he gives me a dry smile and pulls out a couple more twenties, "Don't spend it all in one place!"

"Ok, bye," I awkwardly announce and hop out.

"Wait!" his husky baritone calls from the car window, "You want a ride home after class?"

"Nope! Just go back to your own life," I yell stiffly. Even though I don't turn to watch him drive off, I hear his car pull away. It's just a car, but it somehow sounds disappointed in me too. I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat and step into the cafe for some much needed coffee...

"Morning, young man. What can I get you?"

The lump in my throat seems to get bigger when I see the waiter. He's a lot hotter of a man than I expected to find in this little cafe.

Already, the way he looks at me is shifting. That curse is transforming whatever thoughts he'd just had in his head. He's feeling more and more protective and responsible for me with every second he looks at me. At this point, I've grown accustomed to the mysterious effect I have on older guys. It's only been a few days, but I've seen so many random dudes go through this psychological transition. It's like they're discovering a new purpose in life: me.

"Uh yeah, I guess a cappuccino would be nice," I mutter with a dry mouth.

"You got it, young man!" he gives me a friendly wink, "Anything else I can get you?"

I know I shouldn't push my luck, but I can't help myself with this guy, "A hug would be nice! I've been feeling a bit isolated lately..."

The waiter instantly puts his pen and paper down and holds out his arms. His welcoming smile is gone, and a look of genuine concern waits for me, "Come here."

I practically leap into his arms, and he eagerly accepts me, pulling me into his chest like it's where I belong. It feels amazing to be held by this man, even if I don't know him at all. I could stay here all day if he'd let me.

"Seems like you're enjoying the hug," the waiter eventually chuckles into my ear.

For a second, I'm confused, but then I realize I'm fully erect and the waiter can definitely feel it poking into his waist.

"Sorry!" I jump back, searching for any other witnesses.

"Hey, don't be!" he assures me, "It's a completely normal part of life, ok?"

"You're not mad?" my voice comes out more timid than I expected, but I can't help myself. I just accidentally boned up someone who was trying to be nice. What makes it worse, is that he's probably only trying to be nice because of my ridiculous curse.

"Of course not," he affirms, "I can help you take care of it, if that's ok, young man?"

"What do you mean?" My face burns red hot.

"Oh, let me show you," he grabs me by the hand and leads me away from the table, "There's no need to be ashamed of any part of your body! In fact, this part can be a lot of fun."

I'm left speechless as the waiter gives me another fatherly wink, but I can't linger on what he's said. I'm being pulled into the men's restroom. I hear the click of the door locking behind us as he pulls me in front of the mirror, sliding up behind me. I can feel his chest on my back and his thighs against my ass.

If I was hard before, I'm practically bursting now!

"It's time you had the talk, young man," he calmly speaks in my ear like this is a completely normal thing for a waiter to do.

He starts droning on about men, women, sex, and where babies come from, but I'm not listening. I obviously know what sex is, and I think I'm having it right now. His hands slip under my arms and wrap around my waist to unzip my pants. My rock-hard cock bursts out of my jeans the second they're open, and a moan of surprised ecstasy fumbles over my lips just when the waiter gets to his point on male anatomy.

Does the waiter really believe a dad should do this for their sons?

He starts talking me through how to jack off. He must think I've never masturbated before, and I'm sure as hell not telling him that I have! Hearing him narrate every wrist movement, every ball tug, every nipple pinch is just too much fun! Before long, the waiter has me violently shooting on our reflections in the mirror.

"And there you go," he pats me on the back while I stand there stunned. The waiter steps back and looks at me like he's proud of the great life lesson he'd just taught me, "Now you know how to get rid of those boners of yours. Let me go get your coffee started."

I stand in the bathroom, collecting myself, as the waiter finally tends to my coffee order. This dad-curse the fortune teller gave me might be more fun than I originally thought. If I can get one daddy to randomly jack me off, then who knows what else I can do! Rushing out of the bathroom, I already have so many ideas flooding through my head...

"Excuse me, sir!"

"Sorry!" I shout.

In my excitement, I almost crash into the cafe's porter. A little less graceful, and I would have sent every single dish crashing to the floor. Glancing at the face of my would-be victim, I almost moan when I see get a good look at him. I can tell his head is already filling up with the same artificial need to be my father.

"No damage done," he assures me, lingering back to stare at me like I'm some lost puppy.

"Don't you...um...have to bus some tables or something," I breath nervously.

"Oh yeah," he frowns, "Sorry to get in your way."

He shakes his head like he's trying to lose the strange new thoughts in his brain. I stand there frozen like a deer in headlights as he walks away. He glances back at me before turning his attention to a cluttered table.

"Wait!" I yell, "Come back!"

The busboy drops the tub of dirty dishes and rushes back over like his life depends on it. The sight of this worried hunk running back to me makes me hard all over again.

I grab him and pull him into a hug, but his arms quickly take over and support me. Once again, my boner is rock hard and poking into the body of some random guy I just met!

"You have a car?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"You want to drive me around?"

"Of course!" he yanks off his apron and puts a hand on my back.

The waiter comes back around and hands me my coffee, looking at his coworker in utter confusion.

"Cover his shift," I demand, "He's driving me to school."

The waiter nods with an open mouth. He does look completely confused, but there's also a hint of jealousy in his stare. I think he's mad the busser gets to chauffeur me around: poor guy.

The porter doesn't seem bothered to be walking out of his job. He's busy smiling at me like I'm his whole world. I slide into his humble car and tell him where my class is. Before long, he's pulling out of the parking lot and driving me to school. I use our time to get to know him. I'm honestly not all that interested in learning about his life, but I do enjoy watching him talk. It doesn't take a while for us to get to campus, but before I get out I grab his hand and put on my best puppy dog eyes.

"I don't know when you get off work, but I'd love it if you came by my apartment. My roommate is trying to clean it up, but he could really use the help of someone more experienced."

"I love housework!" he just answers, "I'll be there!"

I snicker and slam the car door shut. I might be an hour late, but I'm finally here for class. It's time to give my professor a visit...

"Yeah, I can unbutton my shirt!"

My professor fell under my spell just as fast as the others. He had a look of anger when I walked in; probably from me skipping his class, but that expression quickly warped as he looked at me. Within seconds he was rounding his desk to give me a big old hug. Apparently, he "forgave" me for being so late.

"You like what you see?" he asks, gesturing to his hairy chest, "Trying to check out your old man?"

"You're my old man?" I ask, kind of surprised by the goofy smile on his face.

"Well, no," he bumbles, "But I am a strong male influence in your life! I'm like your dad!"

I nod my head like he's just made a really good point, "Oh. Then you probably want to treat me like your son. Right?"

"Yeah!" he holds his arms out to animate his enthusiasm.

Professor Reid has a reputation for being stiff and demanding in the classroom, so his new personality completely contradicts his true character. The man I know would never smile at a student, let alone bare his chest to them.

"So, I'm off the hook for missing today's class right?"

"Well," he pauses, "Sure."

"Can I skip the rest of the semester?"

"What, no. I want you to have a good education, my boy!"

I creep up to him and place my hands on his hairy torso, feeling the fur and the weight of his body. Professor Reid sure has a lot to hide under all those dress shirts he always wears.

"I'm just so lucky to have a daddy like you," I purr, "A daddy who's willing to do everything he can for me."

My professor grabs my arm and stares into my eyes. With a serious tone, "I am willing to do everything for you, my boy."

"Alright," I smile, "You should give me private lessons then..."

"What a great idea," he's back to grinning like an idiot.

"...and you should always do it in your underwear!"

"I can do that. From now on, I'll be stripped and ready before you come in!" He smiles at me like this is the best decision he's ever made in his life.

"Alright, now pull the rest of your clothes off," I command, "I want to see what the rest of my daddy looks like."

Mr. Reid doesn't hesitate to start stripping in front of his favorite student. I could probably get this guy to do anything now. I can already imagine our private lessons; me lounging in his leather armchair and him on his knees with his mouth full. Maybe that curse isn't a curse at all. Maybe it's actually a gift...

"Hey, buddy! How was class today?"

Josh looks tired from a long day of yardwork, but he still seems excited for me to come home. The lawn looks immaculate compared to our neighbors', and I have my roommate to thank for that.

"The grass looks great, dad."

"Dad! Woah!" Josh yells ecstatically, "Buddy, I can't tell you how much it means to hear you say that."

Josh sweeps me up in his arms. Apparently, it doesn't bother him to be the father figure of a guy only a few months younger than himself. It doesn't bother me anymore either. I kind of like that he smells like aftershave and bacon now instead of weed and sweat.

"Let's go inside, buddy. I'll cook something up for dinner," Josh says with a hand on my back. I'm already growing so accustomed to being guided around everywhere.

"Actually, I invited a guy to come over," I admit, "He can cook. You should relax. You got a lot of work done today, dad."

"I did, didn't I?" he smiles proudly, "Let me grab a beer, then. We can watch TV."

"Actually, I thought there might be something else you'd enjoy."

"You know me so well, buddy. What are you thinking?"

"You could bend over the couch..."

Josh cringes and shakes his head. Once again, it's like he's fighting the foreign thoughts entering his head.

"...I know how much you like to make me happy, and I really want to pound ass right now."

For a second, a look of horror flashes over his face, but it's gone in an instant. A bright fatherly smile spreads between his cheeks.

"That sounds perfect, buddy. Enjoy yourself."

Josh doesn't look away as he unbuttons his cargo shorts, smiling at me with love and devotion the entire time. He seems completely relaxed as he bends over the couch, and he only seems to become more comfortable as he spreads his cheeks apart.

Once again, I'm rock hard as I stare at one of my dads. This curse might have made me feel guilty before, but Josh said it himself.

I think I will enjoy myself.

Thanks for the ASK, Vebrendos

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not putting a bell on my cat?

Cw for discussion of animal death and injury in vague terms.

So I live in a neighborhood with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. In fact, it's sorta that way all over the city. A few weeks ago as of writing this, I picked up a stray because I saw that it had an open wound on its neck; since it was amicable to being handled I decided to take it to the vet to be treated (and neutered, since I'd already gotten hold of it and obviously we don't need more strays.)

Recently, my cat of 15 years (we had him for 15 years, he was about 17-18 though) passed of old age, so I wasn't expecting my family to be willing to take a new cat in so soon. We even still have most of his stuff, so I figured it would be a matter of keeping the stray indoors until it was healed, then letting him go about his business. We all ended up getting attached over his two weeks of recovery though (if anyone is curious, it was a burst absess. While he was there we got him vaccinated and checked for other problems. Aside from ear mites, he was fine) so we got him a microchip, named him, and that was that.

My previous cat was also a rescue, though we picked him up from a shelter. At the time we also had a dog and a dog door, so keeping him inside would have been a logistical struggle we just... didn't care to bother with. By the time the dog passed, he'd had access to the outside for years and we saw no reason to suddenly cut him off from that. We obviously had to keep this new cat completely inside while his staples were in, but the plan was always to open up the dog door once he was healed and let him decide where he wanted to be. I don't like taking care of a litter box, my dad doesn't like the smell of cat, 3/4ths of the house is allergic (though that didn't stop us before), and this cat is much younger than our previous was, and has much more energy (vet estimated him at 6mo-1yr). At the beginning of last week (again, as of writing this) I got the go-ahead from the vet to let him outside and gladly did so. He hasn't gotten the hang of the dog door yet (our previous had the advantage of watching the dog go through to learn how to do it) but will go through open doors/windows and will return to the door or enter through the window if it's still open.

With context out of the way here comes the trouble: our neighbors. Our house is on the corner of the block and to our left is a house that takes tenants every so often. They've been here for as long as I (22m) have been alive and have been a nucance for probably longer than that. Their yard is atrocious, they planted bamboo that grew under the fence and into our property, and the woman who owns the house (presumably. Her husband might but I've never spoken to him) apparently has some moral issue with outdoor cats.

Sometime into owning our previous cat, she suddenly became very concerned with the bird population and insisted that we collar our cat and get him a bell so that he wouldn't catch birds. I'd like to point three things out: 1) our previous cat only had one eye, 2) we had tried to collar him before and he lost every single one so we gave up (breakaway collars so he didn't choke, 3) he caught birds despite both of these facts. Needless to say, I was not fucking thrilled about unsolicited advice from a woman I'd never spoken to, who let her unmitigated mess of invasive plants invade my garden, but whatever. She spoke to my little (10yro) sister about it at the time, only once, and never to me, so it wasn't an issue.

So I let this new cat out, right? I opened the dog door for him and he waltzed right on out, but I wasn't convinced he really knew how to operate it. About an hour or so without hearing him come in, I head through the back door to look for him. I got him from a different neighborhood, across town, while visiting a friend, so I figured I was allowed to be a little worried about him getting lost or overwhelmed. As soon as I step out onto the porch, the neighbor-lady calls over and asks me if my cat got out or I let it out.

I tell her I let him out. She asks me to put a bell on him. In an attempt to remain civil I ask her why. She says something about it being stupid, I ask her why it's stupid, she says cats eat birds and the bird populations are declining. I instantly want to call bull on cats being a leading reason of bird population decline, but I just tell her that I'll have to look that up, and ask her if she saw which way he went. (I'd like my restraint during this interaction noted, thanks.)

Anyway I don't find the cat but I get a good few patrols around the block, and eventually he comes back to the house sometime in the late-night early-morning. He does not use the dog door and waits for me to open the door instead (back door is on the way to the bathroom, I saw his stupid little face pressed against the glass when i went to piss).

I look up bird population decline articles. Most of them mention cats as a factor, along with clear windows. Primary factors are listed as deforestation and invasive species, pesticides, etc. I don't consider getting my cat a collar because I don't appreciate my neighbors input, especially when she's going to be hypocritical and ignore that planting native species may help bird population more than putting out fifty fucking feeders and complaining that the stray cats see her yard as a buffet. Anyway.

I let him out again yesterday, this time through the window in my room, which leads to the back porch. I felt comfortable leaving it open since I work at my desk and would hear if anything not-cat came inside. (Allergies were a problem, but I'd really rather he have a way to get inside if he wanted/needed, and he STILL will not open the dog door on his own. Obviously I'm not helping by continuing to give him alternatives but I am soft-hearted.) Sometime in the evening my dad comes in and tells me that when the cat next comes back, I should keep him inside because "The neighbor lady is being a bitch and I don't want to deal with it." I assume she said something to him, so I agree and when the cat comes in for the night I close the window.

This morning I saw what had ACTUALLY got him.in a twist, because not only did she say something but she printed out and taped a note to our door. Oh, how I would love to send a picture of it here, but I don't know how to embed photos in asks so you'll just have to deal with my transcription:

CAT FACTS

Cats kill birds. Cars kill cats.

Here's some links to look up.

[I won't type the links out. First one is an article titled "how long do outdoor cats live indoor vs outdoor cats" and the second is "faq cats and their effects on birds". I have not read either of these.]

Ask Kelly about Dixie. Ask Jean about Madeline - wait don't - she ran over her with her own car and broke her pelvis because the cat was older and couldn't hear well.

You have a very beautiful young cat. He deserves a safe loving home. Act like you care for your cat or give him to a home that will. I have four indoor cats - three are orange boys. I have a soft spot for orange boy cats. They are very happy as inside cats.

Be responsible.

[Handwritten at the bottom:]

Your cat is sleeping in my backyard. Why are you forcing him to be an outdoor cat!?

[End]

The amount of violent rage this fills me with is unreal. Kelly is our across-the-road neighbor, I assume Jean is another neighbor (I'm bad with names) and I CANNOT imagine that either of them appreciate being. Used like this. Also, I'm very glad her cats are happy indoors but this cat is not, he wants to go outside, he has been crowding the window all morning waiting for me to open it. (I respect me father so I won't, but I disrespect my neighbor so I really, REALLY fucking want to.)

So AITA for disregarding the safety/happiness of my cat and the decline of the bird population by not putting a collar on him and heartlessly forcing him outside? I'm no further inclined to force him indoors or get a collar, especially with her continued insistence, and in fact I'm so far making an active effort to restrain myself from going over and talking to her because I just want to turn it into an argument.

[cool-fancier]

Stormy Hearts

Synopsis: Amidst a stormy night, a chance encounter with a lost dog sparks a heartwarming tale of rescue, reunion, and unexpected love between two compassionate souls.

Word count:2.4K

This was requested by anonymous so I hope I did good

Let me know if you guys have any requests for the girls :)

The air was thick with humidity, a sure sign that the brewing storm would soon unleash its fury. You glanced out the window of the animal shelter, watching the dark clouds roll in. It had been a long day of caring for injured and abandoned animals, but the satisfaction of seeing them nursed back to health made every effort worthwhile.

"Alright, everyone," you called to the small team of volunteers. "Let's make sure all the animals are settled for the night. It looks like we’re in for a rough storm."

As the last of the animals were secured and the shelter doors locked, you grabbed your coat and braced yourself for the downpour. The drive home was going to be treacherous, with the streets already slick from the intermittent rain that had begun to fall. You navigated your car carefully through the winding roads, the windshield wipers working overtime.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a small figure darted across the road. Your heart leapt into your throat as you slammed on the brakes, the car skidding slightly before coming to a stop. You peered through the rain-splattered windshield and saw a drenched dog standing in the middle of the road, shivering and looking terrified.

"Oh my God," you muttered, quickly turning on your hazard lights and stepping out of the car. You approached the dog slowly, your voice gentle. "Hey there, buddy. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you."

The dog, a small Jack Russell Terrier by the looks of it, seemed hesitant but didn’t run. After a few tense moments, you managed to coax the dog into your arms and carried him back to the car. You wrapped him in a blanket you kept in the back seat, feeling the poor thing tremble against you.

"Looks like you’re coming home with me tonight," you said softly, hoping your voice was as reassuring as you intended it to be.

Back at her cozy apartment, you dried the dog off and examined him more closely. He didn’t seem injured, just scared and exhausted. You set him up with a warm bed and some food, watching as he slowly began to relax in the unfamiliar surroundings.

“You’re safe now,” you whispered, gently petting the dog’s head. “We’ll figure this out.”

— — — — — — —

Rosé stepped off the plane, her legs weary from the long flight. She had spent the past three weeks in the Amazon rainforest, capturing breathtaking images of wildlife for her latest project. While the experience had been exhilarating, she couldn’t wait to get home to her beloved dog, Hank. The thought of his excited barks and wagging tail always made her smile.

As she drove through the familiar streets of her neighborhood, a sense of unease began to creep in. Something felt off. When she finally pulled into her driveway and opened the front door, the silence that greeted her was deafening.

“Hank?” she called out, her voice echoing through the empty house. There was no response. Panic surged through her as she checked every room, but Hank was nowhere to be found. His bed was empty, his toys untouched.

Frantically, she rushed outside, calling his name as she searched the yard and the surrounding streets. Her neighbors hadn’t seen him either, and with each passing moment, her fear grew. She returned home and grabbed her phone, dialing the number of the local animal shelters and veterinary clinics.

“Hi, this is Roseanne Park. I’m looking for my dog, Hank. He’s a Jack Russell Terrier, and he’s been missing since...I don’t know exactly when. I’ve been away on assignment. Have you seen him?”

Each call brought the same disheartening response: no one had seen Hank. Rosé felt a lump form in her throat as she sat down, tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t lose him. Hank was more than just a pet; he was her family, her constant companion.

Determined not to give up, she printed out flyers with Hank’s picture and started posting them around the neighborhood. She shared his photo on social media, hoping that someone, anyone, might have seen him. The days passed in a blur of worry and exhaustion, each one harder than the last without her furry friend by her side.

— — — — — — —

Meanwhile, back at your apartment, the little dog was beginning to come out of his shell. You had taken him to the vet to check for a microchip, but there was none. You posted pictures and descriptions of him on various lost-and-found pet websites, hoping his owner would come forward.

Days turned into a week, and still, there was no word. The dog, whom you had started calling Max, seemed to be adjusting well. He followed her around the apartment, his once wary eyes now filled with trust and affection. Each evening, they’d curl up on the couch together, a comforting routine that had quickly become the highlight of your day.

“You’re such a good boy, Max,” you said one night, scratching behind his ears. “I can’t believe no one’s come looking for you. But don’t worry, we’ll keep trying.”

As you sat there, watching Max drift off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think about the owner who must be missing him terribly. You knew what it was like to love an animal deeply, and the thought of someone out there worrying about Max broke your heart.

— — — — — — —

One afternoon, as Rosé was putting up yet another flyer, her phone buzzed with a notification. She opened it to see a post from a local lost-and-found pets group. The description matched Hank’s perfectly: a Jack Russell Terrier found on a stormy night, currently being cared for by a veterinarian.

Rosé’s heart raced as she dialed the number listed in the post. After a few rings, a warm voice answered.

“Hello, this is Y/n.”

“Hi, my name is Rosé. I think you might have my dog. He’s a Jack Russell Terrier, and he went missing while I was away. I saw your post and...I think it’s him.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end before you replied, your voice tinged with relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I’ve been hoping someone would come forward. He’s been with me for a week now, and he’s such a sweet dog. Can you meet me at the park near the shelter? I’ll bring him with me.”

Rosé agreed, her hands trembling with a mix of hope and anxiety. She couldn’t wait to see Hank again, to hold him and know he was safe. She grabbed her keys and headed out the door, her mind racing with thoughts of their reunion.

— — — — — — —

The park was a serene oasis amidst the bustling city, its lush greenery and peaceful atmosphere a stark contrast to the turmoil Rosé felt inside. She scanned the area, her eyes finally landing on a woman standing near a bench, holding a small dog in her arms.

“Hank!” Rosé called out, her voice breaking with emotion.

The dog’s head snapped up, and he wriggled out of your arms, racing towards Rosé with all the speed his little legs could muster. Rosé dropped to her knees, scooping him up and holding him close as tears streamed down her face.

“Oh, Hank, I missed you so much,” she whispered, burying her face in his fur. “I was so scared I’d lost you forever.”

You watched the reunion with a smile, your heart swelling with happiness. You approached slowly, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

“Hi,” you said softly. “I’m Y/n. I’m so glad we found you.”

Rosé looked up, her eyes red but filled with gratitude. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe he’s really here.”

You smiled, feeling a warm connection with Rosé. “He’s been a joy to have around. I’m just glad he’s back where he belongs.”

They spent the next few moments exchanging details about Hank’s adventures, with Rosé expressing her heartfelt thanks over and over again. As the conversation flowed, you felt an unexpected but welcome bond forming with Rosé.

“Would you like to grab a coffee or something?” You suggested, hoping to extend both of your time together.

Rosé hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’d like that. There’s a café nearby that’s pet-friendly. We can take Hank.”

— — — — — — —

Over coffee, you and Rosé began to learn more about each other. You shared stories from the animal shelter, tales of the animals you helped, and the challenges they faced. Rosé listened intently, her eyes lighting up with interest and empathy.

“You really love what you do,” Rosé said, admiration clear in her voice.

You nodded. “I do. It’s not always easy, but it’s incredibly rewarding.”

Rosé then spoke about her photography, her travels, and the wild places she had visited. She described the thrill of capturing a perfect moment in nature and the peace she found in the wilderness.

“I think that’s why Hank and I get along so well,” Rosé said, smiling as she looked at her dog. “We’re both explorers at heart.”

You chuckled. “I can see that. He’s quite the adventurer.”

As you both talked, the initial awkwardness faded, replaced by a comfortable and easy rapport. You both discovered common interests and shared values, from your love of animals to the desire to make a positive impact on the world.

The chemistry between you both was undeniable, but both you and Rosé were cautious. You both had each been hurt in the past and were wary of rushing into anything. But as the days turned into weeks, the friendship deepened, and began spending more time together.

— — — — — — —

Navigating the challenges of Rosé reclaiming Hank wasn’t without its difficulties. Hank had grown attached to you, and there were moments when he seemed torn between the two women.

One evening, as you all sat together in Rosé’s living room, Hank lay contentedly between you both . Rosé looked at you, her eyes softening.

“You know, I’ve never seen him this happy before,” Rosé admitted. “He’s always been a bit anxious, but with you, he seems so calm.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I think he’s just happy to have so much love around him.”

Rosé reached out, taking your hand. “I’m really glad we met, Y/n. You’ve brought something special into our lives.”

You squeezed Rosé’s hand gently. “I feel the same way. You and Hank...you’ve both brought something special into mine too.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the connection between you two growing stronger. But with that connection came the inevitable question of what your relationship would become.

As you guys continued to spend time together, you and Rosé began to explore your feelings more openly. There were shared glances, lingering touches, and moments of unspoken understanding that hinted at something deeper.

One day, while walking Hank in the park, Rosé turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh? What about us?”

Rosé took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto yours. “I care about you, Y/n. More than just as a friend. I don’t want to rush things, but I think...I think there’s something really special here. And I want to see where it could go.”

You felt a surge of emotion. “I care about you too, Rosie. I’ve been feeling the same way, but I wasn’t sure if you did.”

Rosé smiled, her relief evident. “I guess we’ve both been a little cautious, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but maybe it’s time to stop being so cautious.”

The conversation marked a turning point in this relationship. You and Rosé began to explore the feelings more openly, allowing the connection to deepen naturally. You both went on more dates, spent weekends together, and shared your lives in a way that felt genuine and unforced.

— — — — — — —

One evening, as you both sat on Rosé’s balcony watching the sunset, you turned to Rosé, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Rosie, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.”

Rosé looked at you, curiosity and affection in her eyes. “What is it?”

You leaned in slowly, giving Rosé time to react. When Rosé didn’t pull away, you closed the distance between you two , your lips brushing against Rosé’s in a tentative, tender kiss.

Rosé responded immediately, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as she deepened the kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the warmth of your embrace. The kiss grew more passionate, your connection undeniable as you both poured feelings into that single, electrifying moment.

When you finally pulled apart, both were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” you admitted.

Rosé laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Me too. It was worth the wait.”

You both spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing whispered confessions and dreams for the future. As the stars began to twinkle above, you and Rosé knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful.

Your relationship continued to grow, filled with love, laughter, and the occasional challenge. But through it all, You and Rosé faced everything together, the bond strengthening with each passing day.

As you both stood on the balcony one evening, watching another sunset, you turned to Rosé, your eyes filled with love and determination.

“You know, Rosie, I never imagined finding someone who understands me the way you do. I’m so grateful for every moment we’ve shared.”

Rosé smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. “I feel the same way, Y/n. You’ve brought so much joy into my life. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.”

You leaned in, capturing Rosé’s lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a promise of all the adventures yet to come. And as you held each other close, you both knew that this love story was just beginning, a journey filled with endless possibilities and a love that would endure through any storm.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Part 2 of the one shot.

Warning. Smut!

Yandere Norman Nordstrom x Younger Female Reader

Kidnapping and obsessive love.

Romance. Women loves romance. Norm smiled at the thought of you blushing and giggling. Maybe if he goes to the store and gets some fresh red roses. He doesn't use candles since he doesn't really care about perfume scented air much. So, he should get some too at the arts and crafts store.

Watermelon or strawberry scented candles. Both would be nice. Nodding in determination, Norm sat inside his Lamborghini and then suddenly an emergency alert came from his cell phone. Out of fear, it showed you running away from the mansion as you destroyed the bathroom window. All his windows were bullet proof except the window in the bathrooms because sometimes his security dogs would jump over them to come inside the mansion.

You slick cunning cock!

Gritting his straight teeth in anger, Norm drove as fast as he could while watching his cellphone screen. You were running across his large front garden so you can reach his neighbor's mansion.

He can make it. He then realized how dark it was and that the full moon gave him advantage to spot you from the distance.

Ungrateful bitch. He didn't rape you or hit you minus the times you attacked him. Like biting his tongue when he was trying to French kiss you. Or when you kneed him in the balls. Ouch. That Fuckin' hurt. It didn't hurt as much as the pain inside his chest. You broke his heart again.

You collapsed on your knees from all the running. Tch. Pathetic Norm thought. You were so damn spoiled and weak that you never exercised unlike him. You were not averagely healthy or athletic. He doesn't need his car. Norm turned off his car and jumped out and ran at full speed.

"Huh?" You looked over your delicate and frail shoulder to see your kidnapper! How did he find out?

You tried to get up but he tackled your lithe and supple body hard against the grass floor hard. You tried to scream but suddenly, he slapped you!

You yelped in pain and then stared up to see his handsome face looking at you in anger.

You clutched your face despite making the pain worse. You froze your resistance and then silently sobbed. You didn't want to make him more mad by crying loud so you tried to hide your hiccups but it was no use

Norm's beautiful blue eyes widened in shock. He stared at the back of his hand in disbelief. He hit a woman and not only that. The woman he loved.

He watched in pity as you slumped and didn't fight back as you cradled your injured cheek. If he wasn't sure ashamed of his harshness he would have thought of you trying to be quiet from crying oddly cute.

But, now he felt regret. Without a word, he slung you over his muscular shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you didn't kick or wiggled like the previous times you ran away but was captured.

You gave up.

And he knew.

He didn't mean to break your spirit. But, you were so scared to give him a chance. That was all he wanted.

He went to the entrance of his mansion greenhouse at the center of his front yard garden. He kicked the door open and slammed you down on the floor to sit on your ass. You hissed in pain.

You looked up to see his powerful figure fuming and looking down on you. "Why?" He hissed through his teeth. "I gave you all my love yet you reject me. Why do you resist me? I'd die for you."

Your lips trembled in fear. Norm wasn't having it. He clenched his jaw.

"Why!?" He roared.

You flinched. "I..." You hiccuped and felt tears down your beautiful sculpted cheekbones. "I can't love someone I fear."

You saw that your words hurt him. A Navy Seal was wounded by a weak and spoiled lady like yourself. How strange.

"You don't get it, do you?" Norm's voice cracked as he looked away for a second and then you saw his saddened expression. Your heart burned at the sight.

"I love you, Dammit!" He punched the glass wall of the greenhouse. You yelped. You saw the glass shatter and his fist bloodied. "My life was better before I realized you exist. You ruined my life!"

You sniffed. "I am sorry, Norm." You looked at the ground.

Norm sighed in exhaustion. He then crouched down on one knee to your level and grabbed your chin gently despite smearing your chin with his blood from his injured fist.

You blinked in curiosity. He smiled a little as he unbuttoned his shirt. You couldn't help but stare. His top body was carved like Roman sculptors of Ancient Greek Gods. Ares especially. The God of war.

Holy shit.

You ogled. Norm liked that look on you. He knew you were getting horny. But his body was not all he had to offer you.

There across his chest was bold calligraphy letters of your name. How long was it there?

He did all this for you? He was serious about you.

He grabbed your hand gently and placed it over his heart.

It was dominant and strong like his body and personality.

"I can't control the pace of my heart whenever I think of you. Pity me at least." He pleaded you with large puppy blue eyes.

You felt your womanhood wetten and your throat dry. Is this love?

Norm was waiting for your response. To his surprise and pleasure you leaned your beautiful face close to his pink dry lips.

"Same." You whispered.

Norm couldn't believe his ears. This was a dream come true. You kissed him. Holy shit.

Without a second, Norm kissed back with fever and he grabbed your head and lashed his tongue inside your mouth.

"You're mine now." He ripped your nightgown off. Surrounded by plants in the open air being watched by the full moon was a fairy tale where you lost your first time.

After done, Norm carried you bridal style to the bedroom he shared with you and while you were spent, he drove to the emergency room for stitches.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.201 Miracles

Once again, I took advantage of the dry weather, daring Mother Nature to trick me again. I grabbed the toolbox and got back to work on the treehouse. I wish I could tell you I made good, uninterrupted progress. It was Rosie this time who pulled me away. She hovered nearby the entire time, so I stopped and gave her what she wanted. She's only clingy like that for two reasons, and both of them require my undivided attention. We went for a long jog. When we returned, the house was dark, and my girls were fast asleep. The night was still young, and I wasn't ready to call it quite yet, so I had a personal care night. I'm ashamed to admit when I last did yoga, and my muscles were a lot tighter because of it. I really need to figure out how to balance taking care of myself and my life.

In the morning, I woke up to a big ruckus on the side of my house. It sounded like a loud motor, so I got up to see what was going on. To my surprise, my sister caused the racket, and she was weeding the money tree! I can't lie; I felt myself tearing up. Alessia is one of the most self-centered sims I know. There's been almost nothing she's done or said that didn't benefit her. I mean, the woman skipped my engagement dinner because she didn't feel like going, and she was my sim of honor. But there she was, in my side yard, caring for my tree. Whether it's the kids softening her, or she's finally maturing, I'm so grateful to see her considering others' needs.

"Hey, sis. What are you doing out here?"

"Oh! Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, but it's cool, I guess."

"Sorry. I never saw a tree like this, so I came to get a closer look. When I saw the weeds, I figured I may as well. What is this, anyway?"

"I appreciate you doing that. This is my wedding gift from Dub. It's a money tree."

She gasped.

"They're real?!"

"Right? I didn't think they were either."

"Wow. He's some friend."

"Yeah. He's the best."

I rarely have opportunities to be up close and personal with my sister. Her eyes look tired, and I realized I don't actually know what's going on in her life.

"How are you doing, Less? Like, really."

She shrugged.

"I'm alright, I guess."

"Really, Less?"

She shrugged lackadaisically again. Some things about her will never change.

"There's not much to tell. I have my kids and boring job so they don't eat me."

I laughed so loud. Good thing we don't have neighbors right next to us.

"What about Jace?" I asked. "You heard from him?"

"Nope."

"Damn. I was really hoping he'd step up."

"He'd have to be a man to do that."

"HA! Okay, you got me there."

I had another question I was afraid to ask. The last time I asked it, I got WAY more than I bargained for. But I really wanted an answer. I promised Mama I would look after her, and I can't quite do that if I don't know what I'm dealing with.

"So...are you seeing anyone?"

"When the hell would I have time for that?"

"Touché. You should make time, though. I don't want you to feel like you're trapped in the house with the kids all the time. That's why we moved here, remember?"

"Yeah. I know. The truth is, I kinda like those little gremlins. I thought I'd hate motherhood and being tied down, but..."

"Yeah. Kids have a way of melting your heart."

"They do. I'll get back out there at some point, but for now, I'm cool with just me and my three."

Has Winterfest come early? Because I've just witnessed two miracles, ha!

"I'm really glad to hear that. I always worried about how this would go for you because...you know. Happy to know you're enjoying the journey. Mama would be so proud of you..."

The latch on the gate behind us clicks. My cute little shadow walks through, looking like she's on a mission.

"Auntie Lessia, can Breanna come play?"

"Des, it's not even 8 a.m.," I said. "Give them time to get dressed and eat breakfast."

"She can spend the day with us, you know," Alessia suggested.

As much as I love my sister, she was never on my list of potential babysitters. It's not that I don't trust her or I think she won't take care of my child because I know she will; I've seen it. I've just always been painfully aware of her situation and didn't want to add to her stress. But given what she just told me, maybe we can change that.

"Are you sure? You have your hands full already."

"It's cool, Luca. What's one more child? Besides, having her over will help me. With all four of them together, everyone will have a playmate. That frees to do other things."

I never thought of it that way.

"True. Well...yeah, okay. If you're cool with it, I'm down."

"You want to help me make breakfast?" she asked Desiree.

"Okay," Desiree shouted.

"You're such a little sweetie."

"By the way," she said to me, "I'm still very upset you got the blue-eyed child. Like, what in the world??"

"I guess the Watcher loves me the best."

"Whatever! You look like a dork. What are you even wearing?? Looking like a freezer bunny threw up on you!"

[fluffytheocelot]

Hello it’s extremely late oops. Did not realize how long this thing would take (28 and a half hours apparently according to procreate lmao) but finally, here it is!

Carmen Week Day 8: La Femme Rouge

Holy crap that was a lot of characters! For day 8 I wanted to draw all the ways I've drawn/imagined Carmen over the last 5 years! There are many I didn't do for one reason or another, but it mainly boiled down to space lol. These 10 (11 including canon Carmen) are (most) of my favorites of my AUs :)

this turned out so cool im putting it in a frame when i get a chance lol

Info and solo drawings for each under the cut! it is. so long lol

as usual, i'll gladly answer asks about em :) i have plans to write a few for sure, but it's gonna be A While for them lol

Cat:

Both a Warriors AU and also just my "_____ as a cat" style!

This ones a lot less fleshed out so just bear with me lol. (ATM there might only be 2 clans, ACME and VILE, idk yet lol. idk what to name em either cos stickin "clan" on the end don't feel right XD)

In the Warriors AU, Sheeppaw grows up learning 2 contradictory versions of the Warrior Code: The true one from Shadowstalk, and the VILE version from older warriors. She gets made an apprentice a couple moons early, but is relegated only to camp duties until shes 6 moons old.

She trains alongside Cracklepaw, Tigerpaw, Molepaw, Goatpaw, and Silentpaw. At her first gathering she meets another apprentice, maybe a few moons older, from the other clan: Jewelpaw. The two hit it off and become good friends (and develop little mutual crushes). Sheeppaw also sneaks out and meets a kittypet: Player, who she also becomes very good friends with.

When her mentor, the deputy, Shadowstalk fails her on her final warrior assessment she pretty much has most of the same reaction as the show, just in the WC style.

After witnessing a murder, she hightails it out of there and encounters the newly named Crackletail. Panicked, she hastily and vaguely tells him she saw something and needs to Leave.

She makes it to Players yard and lays low for a while, and he introduces her to the neighbor cats, a sibling pair named Zack and Ivy. The four brainstorm and Sheeppaw is renamed Carmen. They know they cant let VILE keep doing what they're doing. So rogue Carmen and her kittypet friends start figuring things out from behind the scenes.

Pirate Cat:

Exactly as it says, bipedal cat world. Black Sheep was dropped off at a random orphanage in England, with a small stuffed black sheep (where she got her name). Since everybody are cats, Black Sheep isn't that atypical of a name. Sorta a mix of normal people names and cat names.

She grows up there alongside her self-appointed older brother Graham. When she's about 10-11ish she meets the princess: Julia Argent. Childhood friends to lovers letsgoo (its a recurring theme in these lol. its cute i like it).

The two eventually get together (in secret, yay homophobia and also societal status) It doesn't help that Black Sheep had a habit of getting in trouble so she could see the princess her princess.

The two get caught one night, and Black Sheep is nearly executed for "corrupting royalty", but Julia manages to talk her father down from that. Instead, she is exiled. If she ever sets foot in the kingdom after dawn, she WILL be killed this time.

Julia visits one last time, and Black Sheep promises to return someday when she finds somewhere where they can be together freely. She gives Julia her stuffed sheep to look after while she's gone, and asks her to take care of Fuega while she's gone (on one of their sneak-outs, they found a baby dragon that Julia managed to convince her dad to let her keep). Julia gives her the triangle choker. yay tearful goodbyes ;-;

Black Sheep and Graham (because no way is he letting his little sister go into exile without him) go from place to place, stealing when they need to and end up accidentally stowing away on a VILE pirate ship.

VILE pirate training to avoid death, they escape. Graham appoints the newly named Carmen Sandiego captain of their little ship, and they also pick up Zack, Ivy, and Player along the way. Carmen becomes very well known around the globe: civilians/lower class people see her as a Robin Hood hero (correct), while most royals and nobles see her as nothing but a filthy pirate (incorrect).

A few years go by when suddenly the crew gets word that the King of England is trying to marry off his daughter, who has recently come of age. Cue panicked race home + childhood lover reunion.

Daughter of Poseidon (Carmen Sandiego and the Olympians):

Percy Jackson AU! Replace Percy with Carmen, Grover with Player, Annabeth with Julia, and switch/move around some plot points and that's about it lol. I keep telling myself I'll do some scene rewrites of this one so we'll see. Includes PJO and HOO acting as prequels for Carmen Sandiego. Def wanna do dome rewrites for the canon show for this AU too lol

Dino Squad:

I'm out here combining one obscure kids show with another lol. If you haven't seen it, Dino Squad is this early 2000s animated show about these 5 teenagers that get mutated and can turn into dinosaurs, and go around stopping the bad guy from turning everything into dinosaurs. (I think the entire series may be on youtube lol. its goofy but man i loved it as a kid. i wanted dino powers so bad)

This is basically a high school au but most of Team Red has dinosaur powers. :P

In this, Dr. Bellum is experimenting with bringing dinosaurs back, but instead of just cloning them, she figures out how to mutate already-existing organisms into others.

(in the OG dino squad, the bad guy IS a dinosaur that evolved into a human--long story--and believes everything should still be dinosaurs. hes technically right, tbf, if the meteor hadn't hit they prolly still WOULD be dinosaurs. why does bellum want dinosaurs? because she's Bellum and she Can lol)

Carmen Wolfe and her twin brother Graham (they're fraternal twins. why? bc i thought it would be funny. yes he still has his accent. its my world i do what i want) are raised by Carlotta and Dexter Wolfe in Kittery Point, Maine. Carlotta is a paleontologist/biologist and Dexter is a history and geography teacher at the high school. They do know of VILE and what Bellum was working on and have been monitoring it in secret from the kids.

Carmen and Julia are those friends that met bc they were both hiding under the slide in like. Preschool and just stayed friends lol. They're the kind of best friends that will just. Show Up. usually Julia at Carmen's house because "You have better snacks" also Julia's parents just Don't Like Carmen. (Why? idk bc i said so. idk they think she's a bad influence. she's really not lol) Literally Julia has like a spot on the couch and a table setting. She's basically the third twin these three have known each other essentially their entire lives.

Zack and Ivy joined the group in middle school, when Ivy had the same class as Carmen, Julia, and Gray. Zack joined via association. (Zack and Ivy, on the other hand are not twins. again. bc its funny. each sibling pair thought the other was like them. zack and ivy thought Carmen and Gray were just normal siblings, and Carmen and Gray thought Zack and Ivy were twins. Julia had to explain to all of them it was not the case lol)

Player is Carmen's online friend that the whole group includes. they all game together and he gets ALL the public school tea. hes about the same age as Zack, so about a year-ish younger than Carmen, Gray, Ivy, and Julia.

At the end of their freshman year, Carmen and Julia start dating. Their friends and Carmen's parents know, they keep it secret from everyone else. At the end of the summer everybody (aside from Player) go to the beach for one last day of freedom before school starts. They swim through the mutant goo, and over the next few days discover their powers.

Carlotta IDs each dino: Carmen is a (large/person sized) pyroraptor, Gray is a T. rex, Julia is a troodon, and I still cant decide on Zack and Ivy's dino forms lol. Carlotta and Dexter explain the whole VILE thing and the group just kinda simultaneously goes "welp guess we're superheroes now. cool"

so yea dealing w highschool and also mutant dinosaurs and superpowers. this ones fun bc they can just be stupid kids lol

The Last Wolf:

My werewolf AU. The one that started all this mess and my love for making AUs of this show. It was my first fanfic i ever wrote, and it is very near to my heart. it's also gotten out of hand and become a franchise at this point it's ridiculous. (Seriously i've got a prequel of her parents planned and also a series of shorts set in the universe) It's gonna be a long ride, boys. Hope people still like CS by the time it's done lol

A Thief's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse:

Zombie apocalypse AU! Talked about this one a bit for AU day, and also as of this post I have ~1k words written of the first chapter! I also have a bunch of the major plot points outlined too ;) I wouldn't expect anything soon tho lol.

She wears a wetsuit under the coat bc it's really hard to bite through, especially with rotten jaws. She's got some boots she probably scavenged or traded for, and of course: the Walkman she probably found looting some abandoned building. She collects cassettes to listen to. Gotta keep sane in the end of the world.

How is this one a literal apocalypse and its still more lighthearted than the one based on FNAF lol

Redd Wolf (Five Nights at Redd's):

FNAF AU. I've truly lost it lol. I have this one completely outlined, nothing written but a lot of things are VERY clear in my mind. This ones uh. a lot more intense than even Thief's Guide. It's FNAF. its immense violence and child death. Seriously, Carmen, Player, Gray, Ivy, Zack, and Julia all end up possessing animatronics at some point. It ends happily, but it is based off a horror thing so if that's not your thing b careful <3

its supposed to be more of a mystery that gets unraveled, but if anyone wants specifics of it u can drop an ask :) i only have animatronic designs for Carmen, Julia, and Gray so far tho. I have ideas for the others too.

This is one I wanna share with y'all at some point. its probably the shortest of the AUs I have outlined so far, so yk. maybe in this lifetime lol.

Carmen and the Age of Wonderbeasts:

Mega Jaguar Carmen. This ones more of a ~vibe~ than an actual plot but i like drawing mega jag carm :)

Plushie Dragon:

This one's not an AU, but actually based on doodles of these 2 plush dragons! Matching red/gold and blue/silver dragons named after carmen and julia lol. I'll get around to posting more drawings of em cause they're cute

the plushies <3 (they have spikes u just cant see em:

ik they look goofy i lov them anyways

Wings of Fire:

Wings of Fire AU! Carmen is a rainwing/skywing hybrid (rainwing dad, skywing mom) She can camoflauge, fly decently fast, and has a prehensile tail. She can't breathe fire or use typical venom, BUT she figures out her venom, while not face-melting by itself, IS in fact flammable. again, more of a ~vibe~ than a story and plot, but I like drawing dragons.

Canon Carmen:

She's front and center, the one that started all this.

Way back in 2019, the autism and ADHD departments in my brain came to an agreement: This show is the greatest show of all time.

It was the first fandom I actively contributed to/interacted with. (I still read fics from other fandoms before, but had never been active in a fandom) Like I mentioned with Last Wolf, I had never actually written fanfiction before, and definitely never posted it. I love writing and telling stories (and boy howdy do I have A Lot of stories rolling around my brain). between all of the AUs ive come up with, I've gotten to practice so much worldbuilding and characterization. English classes usually focused on expository stuff, with like. a brief fiction writing thing. So I've definitely gotten to stretch my creative writing muscles with this show, and hopefully I can put em to use on original projects someday <3

I fell in love with the first season, and got ridiculously excited for every new season and the interactive. (heck, i played every possible option for the interactive the day it came out, and binged every subsequent season the day they aired.)

This show has been a big part of my life the last five years, and the original show will always be special to me. It's the reason I started learning to draw people lol, I have a drawing of Carmen from 2020 that I'm still really proud of. It's hung on my bedroom wall to this day.

So thank you, Carmen Sandiego. For everything.

[seiwas]

hi sel!! i missed seeing you around dash - i hope you’re enjoying your lil vacation!

n for your lil game.. if it appeals.. may i suggest touya + rain/storm ?

scar hello!! sorry i've been on and off these past months 🥹 i missed being on here too!! i have been enjoying my lil vacation though 🥺 it's been a while since i've just chilled at home! thank you for sending in a prompt 💗

contains: fallen angel touya, visions in dreams, kind of disorientating what's reality vs not, reader tries melatonin, there is a fire

touya + storm

there's a storm outside your window.

the rattling of string lights on your balcony jolts you awake, the wind howling an eery melody. this weather is common at this time of the year, but tonight, you feel uneasy. you think there's something on your front yard.

your footsteps are light as you make your way down your staircase, the flashlight on your left hand clutched tightly as you reach for the umbrella by the door.

it's zero visibility on your front yard, heavy rainfall being dragged sideways by the wind. you squint, flashing your light at the area in front of you.

a broken branch from your neighbor's tree dangles loosely towards your fence, but you can't make out anything else apart from that. you contemplate stepping outside to get a better look, but a burst of light streaks itself across the sky, lightning flashing before thunder rumbles loud enough that it reverberates in your heartbeat. a sudden chill breezes over you, your skin prickling from strands of hair standing.

your flashlight flickers, the light going out once before you tap it on your wrist twice. and when it turns back on, you think you can make out a figure hunched over the shrub at the far right of your garden.

you flash your light over the area to get a better look but it turns black―your vision or the light, you're not sure.

the next time you open your eyes, you're tucked in bed, squinting your eyes at the brightness of sunlight.

a dream? you wonder. the jacket you're certain you reached for is still right by your vanity, untouched. could be.

your front yard is trashed, just like you expected it to be, if your subconscious was trying to tell you anything from last night's dream. plants are uprooted, with small branches scattered all over the grass. you suck in a breath when you spot the broken branch from last night just as you saw it―still barely hanging on as it dangles over your fence.

you must have heard it break off in your sleep, you tell yourself. the mind can be quick in associating these things.

things become weird after that.

you get more visions in your sleep, mostly when the storm beats heavy raindrops against your window. sometimes, they're the same as the first time―instances of you searching outside but blacking out and waking in your bed the next morning. others, they're stranger, more vivid. you see a man with white hair turning red at the tips.

he comes to you in flashes―in between lightning strikes and thunder claps; in fragments, distorted by sheets of rainfall. you can never fully make out his face, but his eyes glow a striking blue amidst the darkness that often surrounds him.

the melatonin makes it worse. for a few nights now, you've begun to see more of his silhouette, similarly hunched over that shrub from the first night, except it grows taller, almost as if he's standing.

you wake up every time he almost reaches full height. but were you even really sleeping?

your therapist tells you it must be stress. this particular time at work is busy, after all. and, "halloween festivities can be impressionable when the mind is tired."

so you let it go, hoping that the dreams disappear eventually.

but then you find a feather. it's long, far too long to belong to any animal you know of; the color is charcoal black, with its tips slightly crisp as if it's been burnt. you find it by the shrub, where the silhouette crouches over every night in your dreams.

your palms sweat as you handle it, a mixture of anxiety and fear. you feel sick to your stomach; scared and disoriented. what even is real?

you call your friend, midoriya, to keep you company. he's no cynic, but if anyone could think up an explanation for anything, it'd have to be him. he has notebooks and journals full of analyses and theories on a bunch of weird things.

"can you tell if he's... uh..." he tries to find the words, as if trying not to scare you, "demonic?"

though with how jittery he is, you're pretty sure he's just as, if not more, nervous.

"i don't know yet," you admit, setting down his blanket for the night, "i guess he does feel kinda angry, but..." you think back to those blue eyes, trying to discern the exact emotion in them, "not at me i think. i don't know."

midoriya jots down some more notes as rain increasingly patters outside your window. you're sure he'll spend the whole night figuring this out from the way he continues to ask you more questions.

that night, you dream of the figure again, but something about this time feels ominous; larger. it starts out with his face, lightning illuminating glimpses of his expressions. you see scars across his cheeks and his hair turning a shade darker. another crackle of lightning brings him further away, hunched over the shrub again, except this time, he begins to stand; and you're prepared to wake up again right before he shows himself in full height―except you don't.

he stands before you still concealed by the downpour, but his presence is simultaneously chilling yet glorious. and you don't expect it, what happens next―the unfurling of wings right by his sides. they span the width of your entire yard, large and so unlike anything you've ever seen before.

then, an alarm breaks, and you wake, neither in bed nor on your front porch.

your feet touch wet asphalt, the sensation hardly differentiating itself from how drenched you are by the rain. thick smoke fills your lungs as you stand before a blazing house a few streets down yours. sirens sound around you―an ambulance, a firetruck, and a police car, all managing the commotion.

people evacuate their nearby houses as the policemen round them up at a safe distance. out of everyone in the scene, you seem the closest of all, the heat from the fire nearly licking at your cheeks.

"everybody, please step back!" one of the firemen shout. to your right, another one hurriedly hauls a body down to the stretcher beside you. a paramedic immediately tends to the person before you can even catch a look.

"please step back!" the fireman closest to you calls out, but the sound is muffled in your ears, almost by a dull ringing and the subtle sound of wings flapping. an unexplainable urge pulls you toward the body.

"hey―!" the fireman tries to call for your attention, but you ignore him, inching closer towards the stretcher. you tiptoe to get a better look, and as you catch a glimpse of the body's face―

the fireman holds you by the shoulder, "i said―!" as another paramedic addresses you and asks, "do you know this man?"

and right there on the stretcher is him―white hair with red at the tips; his cheeks are an angry shiny red, like its been melted, burnt. he remains only semi-conscious, eyes half-lidded as he is tended to. but when you peer over, he blinks and manages to look at you.

you find the same striking blue.

[c-m-stuff]

Trick Or Treat

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

-Description: You and Spencer are married. You two have a beautiful son, who you are trick or treating with.

-Warnings: Fluffiness, having a child

-Word count: 825

-Note: (Repost from Wattpad) Hey guys, I'm finally back. A lot has happened at the time I was gone, and I couldn't find the motivation to write. But, I'm happily back. This story is in honor of the most spooky season. Enjoy this Halloween story!

Masterlist

Y/N POV:

It was spooky season. The season with beautiful, orange leaves, falling from the trees, the season when pumpkins are indispensable and horror movies are more popular than ever. Yes, it was autumn. It also happened to be my husband's favorite season and holiday.

We all got our Halloween costumes. Spencer went as Doctor Who, while (Y/S/N) was going as Spiderman. This year, I went for a simple, but stunning, black cat. My whole outfit was black, as the fabric was hugging my figure. I got cat ears and wore black

make-up with high heels.

I was just finishing my hair, as I felt a person staring at me. Turning around, I saw the genius watching in awe.

'You look stunning.' a smile appeared on my face, while he was walking closer.

His lips were quick in finding mine, moving sincerely as two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly. His hands found their home on my waist, gently brushing over the fabric. Before things got too headed, I pulled away.

'As much as I love this, we need to go trick or treating.' I reminded him, as his brain finally caught up with my words.

'Alright, but we're going to finish this later.' he teased, and I pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

'If you say so.' smirking, I turned around, making my way towards our son's room. Spencer following behind me.

Carefully, I pushed the door further open, seeing (Y/S/N) playing with his Lego. He looked up once he noticed our presence, as a smile was painted on his little face.

'Are you ready for trick or treating?' I asked, excitedly, as he got up and ran towards us.

'Yesss!'

'Alright, let's go.'

__________________________

Only moments later, we arrived at the first house. The front yard was decorated amazing with all kind of Halloween stuff. We saw (Y/S/N) struggling to reach the bell, his little body too small. Spencer happily lifted him up, so he was now able to ring the doorbell.

'Ready?' my husband asked our son, while placing him gently back on the ground. He nodded, and waited patiently for the door to open.

'Trick or treat!' we all exclaimed, making our neighbor laugh.

'That is definitely a scary costume, (Y/S/N). I think, I better give candy real quick.' she played along, making Spencer and I both smile at the excitement of our son.

She placed a few candies into the little Halloween bucket, (Y/S/N) was holding. He jumped, enthusiastic, a spark in his eyes. It was the most sweetest thing ever.

We thanked our neighbor, before walking further. This went on for a while. Going from door to door, everytime receiving candy. Eventually, the sun began to disappear behind the clouds, slowly getting more darker. All the excitement and activities took a toll on (Y/S/N). He was walking more slowly, tiredness visibly on his face.

I picked him up, as he let his head rest on my shoulder. I gave a kiss on it, watching him in awe. Spencer was doing the same thing, his eyes fixated on our beautiful son. We locked eyes for a moment, telling in our own way to get back home.

__________________________

Satisfied, we unlocked the front door, happily by the turn of the evening. I placed our already asleep son in his bed, giving him a goodnight kiss, while tugging him in. I let a tiny lamp shine, as I quietly made my way back towards the living room.

'I think, he has enough candy for a whole year.' Spencer joked, pointing at the full bucket.

'Yeah, it was definitely a great evening. The joy on his face, I'll never forget it.'

'It really was amazing to witness.'

I walked closer to him, pressing my chest against his. He wrapped his arms protectively around my waist, placing a kiss on my head.

'I love you.' he whispered, while he pressed me even further into the embrace.

'I love you, handsome.'

After a few more moments of comfortable silence, he slightly pulled away. A spark appeared in his eyes, as he got visibly excited.

'What do you think of a Halloween movie night, with lots of cuddles and food?'

'I would love to.' I told him, mirroring his smile.

Soon enough, we were lying on the couch, our bodies as close as possible, cuddling and eating, all that while watching one of Spencer's favorite Halloween movies.

Yes, this was the perfect Halloween.

_________________________

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for stealing lemons?

So my neighbors have been growing this lemon tree in their yard, and this year it finally finished growing and producing fruit. And, well, I was hungry, and it HAD been about 10 seconds since my neighbors had looked at their lemon tree, so I figured it was fair game. But they got pretty upset when they saw me snatching their lemons and started yelling about how I was a whore and then some other stuff happened. AITA?

[oliveisme533]

My dad’s neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 4

Joel Miller x You

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

Warnings: abusive ex is back. Verbal abuse and physical violence (not against reader)

You roll over in your bed with a groan and stretch your arms. Grabbing your phone you check the time 10:03. Early for you. You decide to hop in the shower before your dad can ask you to help pick up fallen branches in the yard from last nights storm. You let the scolding water hit your body and you draw in a deep breath. Tomorrow was Monday which meant your dad would be back to work and you wouldn't have anyone to talk to or hang out with until 5 o'clock. Rinsing the soap from your face you contemplated just what to do with tomorrow, in fact you were beginning to wonder how to make use of your summer in general. The last couple weeks of doing nothing had been a much needed reprieve from your busy life, but you were starting to get a little stir crazy. You turned off the water, still deep in thought when you heard your phone buzzing. You tiptoed over to your bedside table and saw Joel's name lighting up the screen. "Why is he calling me?" You pick up the phone ...

Hello Hey sweetheart didn't wake ya did I? No no I've been up...for a few minutes (Joel chuckled) Well hey listen, one of my coworkers was looking for a sitter for tonight. He and the Misses are going out and their regular girl can't make it. Any interest in an easy job for the night? Oh yeah I can definitely do that. God know I've got nothing else going on. Okay I'll send you the info! Thanks darlin'

Obviously he wasn't calling just because he wanted to chat with you. It was a stupid thing to even hope for. The rest of the day went by relatively slowly, but when 6 o'clock rolled around you put some snacks in your back pack, a phone charger, and a book you had been trying to finish for several weeks now. The babysitting was easy. It was one kid, she was four years old and for the most part did whatever you asked. The parents told you they would be out late so when 11:45 rolled around you weren't surprised they hadn't come home yet. The house was quiet...too quiet. You never much liked this part of being a baby sitter. It was different when you did it for Sarah. The millers house was always warm and full of life. Those nights when Joel did get home a little later you felt safe curling up in on his couch with the TV on. Most of the times you would fall asleep like that and Joel would drive you home the next day after making you and Sarah breakfast. You smile at the memory. The sounds of the house settling are enough to snap you from this daydream down memory lane. "Fuck I really don't like this huge, quiet house. What if I call someone to keep me company. Dad will be asleep, so would mom and my sister. I bet Joel Miller is awake..." you stare at your phone and contemplate this next move. "Fuck it" you mutter and tape his name. The phone only rings a couple of times before you hear Joel's husky voice. A twinge of guilt shoots through you as you fear you've woken him up.

Hello? Everything okay? Hey, yeah I'm so sorry did I wake you? I was just restin' my eyes that's all. I ain't in bed yet. Well I just- I really don't like being in these houses all by myself. It sounds stupid but it's kinda scary I guess. 'S not stupid. You want someone to talk to-keep ya company? Yeah... and I figured you'd be awake still, but I guess I figured wrong You're all right honey, I really don't mind. I needed to get off this couch and sleep in my bed any how. But how 'bout you tell me about your day? My day was pretty boring honestly. I played with the cat, ate some ice cream and watched TV Wat'd ya watch? Love island What in the hell is that?

You laughed and proceeded to tell him all about the show. A little while passed and then you heard the lock click and knew the parents were home. You told Joel you had to go to which he responded "alright let me know when you get home safe. Can call me if you want." Back home you pondered whether or not you should call Joel. It was late and you were feeling tired, but you wanted to talk to him. After slipping into your pajamas you felt like you could hardly stay awake much longer, but you were determined to take advantage of this invitation from Joel to call him. So you tapped his name and watched the phone ring. You put it to your ear and your heart sank with each unanswered ring. When it went to voicemail you resolved that he had likely fallen asleep and you decided to do the same.

The next day you woke up early (ish) at 9:00. Your dad had already left for work. You roll over in your bed to check your phone and your heart pounds.

Missed call from Joel Miller 36m ago

You're hoping he's not at work yet and call him back quickly. "Hey sweetheart" he picks up within a few rings. "Sorry I missed your call last night. I ended up falling asleep and didn't hear the phone." It was so nice to hear his voice first thing in the morning. "Oh you don't need to apologize. I didn't really need anything, I just like talking to you" you could almost hear Joel grin as he said "well I like talkin' to you too sugar" you had walked down to your kitchen to put on a pot of coffee at this point when you say "hey why aren't you at work?" "Waitin for some parts to come in for this current job. Until they do there's nothin else I can really do. But the parts are supposed to be here by noon... so I'll get my ass to work in a couple hours" you notice a note taped to the fridge as Joel finishes saying all this. "I completely forget" you mutter to yourself, but apparently Joel hears. "What'd you forget?" "My dad left me a note reminding me that he's gone on a business trip and won't be back until Thursday." "Oh that's right. Your dad did mention that. Told me to keep an eye out for ya." "Did he really? "Yeah I mean you're going to be by yourself in that big house for almost 3 days" "I'm a grown ass woman though!" Joel chuckled. "No ones sayin you ain't, darlin. Dads worry and that don't change from when you're 5 or when you're 25" "I guess that's fair enough" you shrug. "I should get my day started here... might go on a run and catch up on laundry" "Well if you need anything the next couple of days just hollar" You hang up the phone with brief goodbyes and run your fingers through your tangled bed head. You groan as you massage your temple. "What the fuck am I doing?? I'm catching feelings for Joel fucking Miller. What's worse is that I'm flirting with him too"

Against your better judgement you decide to text Joel later in the day Hey what time you get off tonight? I should be wrapping up by 7...Why? You want to swing by for dinner? Nothing fancy. I'm just bored and I don't love being here alone in the evenings for long periods of time lol. Well I ain't gonna turn you down for some dinner. I'll see you at 7:30. Can I pick anything up at the store for ya on my way there? Well if you're offering... maybe some ice cream? And a bottle of rosè You got it

The rest of the day went by slowly. 7:30 couldn't get here fast enough. You were hoping for something to happen tonight with Joel, but you weren't sure what that would be. You hadn't decided if the lingering glances from him were just something you were imagining or actually happening. Around 6:30 you decide to hope in the shower and of course shave...because you never know right? After your shower you settle on wearing a simple, linen dress that's super comfortable and not all that fancy.  At exactly 7:30 you hear the doorbell ring. You jump off the sofa to answer it, your heart in your throat. But when you open the door, you're afraid you might be sick. It's not Joel Miller who stands there, but your toxic ex boyfriend ...Ben.

"What the fuck are you doing? You need to leave" Ben smirks. "Aren't you a delight. I just wanted to talk to you, and since you've block my number I had to take matters into my hands." Your heart was racing. Ben had never shown any physical violence against you, but you didn't know what he was capable and you didn't want to find out. "I thought I made myself really fucking clear that we are over" you said with a shaky voice. "Baby I just don't think you get to make that call. I mean I've done so much to make this relationship work. You can't just throw all that away. You know you're never going to find another guy who puts up with your shit." That was it. Something in you snapped. Something that had been brewing for literally years was about to come out. "No fuck you!" You shoved him in the chest with both palms and he stumbled back just a step, caught off guard by your motion. "Screw you! I don't need a guy to put up with anything about me, you asshole. You act like you're some fucking hero for tolerating the fact that I struggle with my mental health and stuff!" Ben was fuming now. You had never laid hands on him and you could tell the shove had lit something inside him too. "You have issues you know that?! You have fucking issues in your head!" He screamed at you getting up in your face and grabbing your arms tightly, pinning them to your sides. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joel's truck coming down the street and pulling into your drive way. Ben was now shaking you and yelling "YOU'RE SUCH A BITCH.." he didn't get to finish his sentence because a firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him backwards.

If looks could kill...you had never seen such an expression on Joel. He looked like he could tear Ben to pieces right then and there, yet he maintained a calm composure. "I suggest you get the fuck off this porch and don't come back, son" Joel said in a low voice. Ben scoffed. "Get out of here, old man. This ain't your business" Ben spat. "Son, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." Ben let his head fall back and let out a chuckle that sent a chill down your spine. "Is that so?" Without warning Ben threw a punch and Joel and narrowly missed "Ben!" You shrieked. Ben straightened up sent another punch. Joel grabbed his wrist, mid punch and yanked him in close. Joel towered over him. "Do not make me repeat myself again. I said get the fuck off this porch, or things will get ugly." At this Joel shoved Ben forcefully away, causing him to stumble backwards. Ben still looked angry, but now there was a hint of fear in his eyes too. He gave you one last glare and then jogged back to his car.

As soon as Ben's car sped off. Joel sun around. "Are you okay??" He asked, grabbing your face in his hands. "Um yeah" you managed to squeak. "I mean that fucking scared me tho." Joel looked like he might be sick. "I am so sorry wasn't here at 7:30. If I got here on time- " "Joel come on you don't need to do that. It's not like either of us had any idea Ben would show up here. I'm glad you came when you did though." Joel massaged the bridge of his nose. He looked stressed and was probably imaging what would have happened if he didn't show up at all. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to rid himself of the notion. "Joel look at me I'm fine!" You said pulling his hand away from his face. Joel took your hand in his and stroked it with his thumb. "Okay" he said softly. "Did you get my ice cream?" You said trying to change the subject. A smile tugged at his mouth. "Yeah I did, baby"

You had made spaghetti for dinner, about one of the only dishes you were confident in preparing. You and Joel sat at the table in silence and you watched as he pushed his food around. "I'm sorry I'm not a chef...if you want we could just order a pizza?" You suggested. Joel looked up at you seemingly caught off guard. "No no no it's not that! The meal is delicious. I guess I just don't have an appetite. That's all." You pushed back from the table and the chair scraping against the hardwood made Joel jump slightly. "Baby I didn't mean to offend you it's just" you laughed as you reached for the shelf above the stove "Joel I'm not mad I'm just looking for something." Joel slowly walked towards where you were balancing on a stool trying to get the top door of the cabinet open. "Um...what's that?" You grunted as you finally got hold of what it was you were looking for. "My dad's red wine. It's gross too me, but he always says red wine gives you an appetite." You hopped off the stool and thrust the bottle into his chest. "Where's the wine you got me? I would like to get into that like asap." Before waiting for a response you went into the other room where the grocery bag still sat with the ice cream and wine and dug out the bottle. You hastily removed the top and began drinking. "Y/n...slow down what are you doing?" You removed the bottle from your lips and wiped your mouth. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Joel's face was laced with concern. "Okay that's enough. I'm calling your dad, you can stay at mine until he gets home. I'm sure he'll book the first flight back when he hears.." you didn't let Joel finish. He had tried to grab the bottle from your hands "no, fuck off I'm a grown woman. I don't need you calling me dad to tell on me or whatever." Joel placed both hands in his hair and squeezed his head "sweetheart you're clearly not okay! And for good reason... will you just let me help you? I'm worried about you. This shit wasn't in any of the parenting books I read before Sarah.." "you're not my dad!" "No no I'm not saying that I just" ... "is that all this is? You want to fill the void of not having your daughter at home this summer. So you come over here to parent me because my dad's not here? I don't fucking need that Joel I don't want you to see me that way."

...to be continued