#colts foot is here for you when no one else is. no leaves no problem!!

[muirneach]

let’s hear it for colt’s foot, doing it like no one else forever

[coltsbitch]

replaced pt.2 ~ colt grice x reader

colt grice x reader; fluff; 4k words  summary: getting replaced doesn’t feel so great for falco

dedidcated to the anon who gave me this idea. hope you enjoy!

masterlist ~ replaced pt.1 

“Who you texting?”

Colt twists his body to hide his phone from Falco, who is currently jumping up and down behind the sofa, “What do you need little man?”

Falco jumps over the edge to plop down next to his brother, “I’m bored.”

“I thought you were playing your game?”

“Yeah,” Falco whines, “but now I’m not.”

Colt had to repress his urge to roll his eyes. It was the beginning of summer and it seemed Falco had already run out of his summer bucket because almost every day this week he would pester Colt for attention.

Not that Colt didn’t love spending time with his brother, especially after being away at school for his freshman year, but he does wish he could get a minute to himself.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Gabi said that Reiner is taking her to the beach today.”

“Okay?”

“I wanna go to the beach today.”

Colt sighs, of course Falco already had a plan in mind., “Falco,” He begins, but then is distracted by the pinging of his phone.

“Who is it?” Falco jumps up trying to reach but is held back by one of Colt’s hands, “Is that the person you were talking to on the phone last night? You were being so loud!”

Colt flushes at the thought of anyone overhearing his conversation with you.

Not that it was too incriminating. More so a little sappy on his end, telling you all the ways he’s going to spend the summer with you. Taking you on picnic dates, walking through the park, going to movies.

But what can he do? He’s smitten with you.

It wasn’t that hard to fall for all your quirks and habits within the first hour of knowing you. Wrinkling your nose when you laughed, constantly wiping Falco’s ice cream covered mouth, and of course the smiles you kept sending his way.

Falco really was the best wingman for insisting you join them for ice cream.

And asking for your number on the way out the door was strictly for babysitting purposes, of course. But that didn’t stop him from texting you that night to make sure you were home safe.

It was simple after that. The continued messaging, afternoons spent entertaining Falco, long nights on the phone until one of you fell asleep.

And it culminates on his final evening before returning to school when you press your lips to his after Falco has long gone to bed.

Colt blushed and stammered for a moment, unsure what to do. Because as much as he daydreamed for this moment, he didn’t he would actually get it.

And just when you think you misread his signals, he pushes his lips back to yours, with such force it knocks you onto your back.

You giggle when he quickly pulls off, worried he hurt you. But you find his excitedness endearing and wrap a hand around his neck before pulling him down to kiss you some more.

And although Colt leaves the next day, the months to follow would be filled with as many texts, calls, and video chats a person could make in a single day. But now Colt is home and trying to get as much of you as he can.

The only problem is Falco being as pesky as he can be.

“Tell me who it is!”

“Go get your bathing suit on for the beach.”

Falco halts his movements, “Wait, really?”

“You don’t want to go anymore?” Colt raises an eyebrow. And with that Falco is like a bolt of lightning shooting up the stairs screaming about needing to find his sand toys.

Colt runs a hand through his hair, sighing at the thought of having to spend the day at the beach now. But looking down at your text, an idea pops into Colt’s head that might make the beach day a little less painful.

…

“There’s Gabi!” Falco is off running before Colt can tell him to stay by his side.

He’s already dumped his towel and backpack in the sand by the time Colt catches up.

Reiner is sitting beside Falco’s scattered belongings, “You get dragged to the beach too?”

Colt lays a towel out on the ground, “Only because someone else brought their cousin here.”

Reiner scoffs before returning his attention to his book.

Colt smiles at Falco and Gabi playing in the sand, the latter already throwing out orders to begin construction on a moat around the sandcastle.

Colt had tremendously missed his brother while away at school. Some might think it a little odd for his best friend to be his ten-year-old brother, but Colt couldn’t care less. Falco is such a kind and sweet kid that Colt would do anything for. The two of them could spend hours together and never get tired of one another.

While of course Colt couldn’t talk to his younger brother about certain things, it didn’t stop him from confiding in him most of the time. However, when it comes to you, Colt still is working on building up the courage.

Falco has never seen Colt in a relationship before, more so that Colt has never been in a relationship before. And tying in the fact that you’re Falco’s babysitter, he didn’t want to make things trickier than they already were.

You didn’t mind though. It wasn’t that hard to hide it from Falco after Colt had returned to school. And anytime Colt did call you while you were still with Falco, the younger boy was just excited to be able to talk to his two-favorite people at the same time.

But now that it’s summer both of you are trying to figure out a way to bring it up to Falco.

Colt smiles when he sees a text from you, letting him know you were on your way.          

“Colt! Colt!” Falco runs up to him, kicking sand everywhere, “Gabi says she’s a faster swimmer than me, but I beat her last summer in a race and she said that it wouldn’t happen again, and we need you to be the judge!” He says all in one breath.

“Okay buddy, just give me a minute.” Colt holds up a finger, trying to answer your text.

“Colt! Now!” Falco stomps his foot in the sand.

“Why don’t you go to the water and I’ll meet you there?”

“When are you going to stop texting on your phone?” Falco whines.

Colt doesn’t have time to answer before he’s interrupted by Reiner, “I’ll judge you two Falco, and I’ll make sure Gabi doesn’t cheat.”

“You think Gabi is gonna cheat?”

“Not if I can help it.” Colt watches Falco sprint back to the water, Reiner following after him. He wants to enjoy his time with Falco but wants to make sure you’re here before he steps away from his phone.

Luckily, you text him that you just pulled into the parking lot. Double checking that Falco is still with Gabi and Reiner, Colt leaves the spot to find you at the beach entrance.

He’s momentarily stunned when he spots you coming towards him. Unsure if he’s ever seen this much of your skin exposed, and with the sunlight shining your hair looks even softer than usual.

You grin when you see him standing there, gaping like a fish out of water.

“Hi.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, “You’re gorgeous.”

You avert your eyes, laughing at his bluntness, “You’re not too bad yourself.” You’ve never seen Colt shirtless before, and the beads of sweat glistening on his chest aren’t helping you from wishing you could lick them off. But this is a family beach after all.

“C’mon.” Colt grabs your hand, “We have a spot close to the water.”

You follow Colt who has grabbed your bag with one hand and intertwines your fingers with his other.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

You scoff teasingly, “I saw you the other night.” Not mention the two of you are in constant communication with Colt’s daily morning sunshine texts and nightly sweet dreams.

Colt doesn’t respond with anything more than a smile and a squeeze to your hands.

He leads you to a spot where several towels are laid out, before pulling the one you brought out to lay on the ground.

“Such a gentlemen.” You tease.

He grins and waves his hand with a flourish at the ground, “Anything else you’ll need? Water? Maybe sunscreen rubbed on your back?” He raises an eyebrow.

And it earns a laugh from you, his flirting that comes and goes in confidence. You’re about to take him up on his offer before you’re interrupted by someone shouting your name.

“___! What are you doing here?” Falco comes sprinting, his goggles that hang around his neck bouncing and hitting his face.

You smile at Falco, “Colt told me you would be here, so I decided to come too.”

“Colt did?” Falco looks at his brother before returning to you.

“He sure did! Told me that you two were going to have a beach day.” You kick off your sandals, “So what should we do first?”

You expected Falco to be overjoyed you would surprise him at the beach. You hadn’t seen him much since the summer started, but instead Falco donned an intense look of concentration, eyes flicking between you and Colt, “You were the one Colt was texting all day?”

You straighten, a little confused, eye’s briefly meeting Colt’s, “I guess I was.”

Falco stays silent for a moment before grabbing your hand and dragging you to the water, “Let me show you the hand stand I can do under water!”

Colt watches to the two of you run off, laughing at how you try to keep up with Falco’s speed. But his laugh dies in his throat when Falco throws a glare over his shoulder.

Colt is momentarily shocked, until he realizes Falco must have been squinting because of the bright sunlight.

However, Falco is off for the rest of the day. He clings to you in a way Colt’s never seen before. Dragging you along the shoreline, making you give him piggyback rides in the water, presenting you with the prettiest seashells he could find.

Colt wouldn’t think too much of it, except he feels that Falco is trying to purposely exclude him. Interrupting him any time he tries to speak to you, pulling you away if Colt comes near, even going so far to elbow Colt out of the way to sit near you while you’re all enjoying the cold lemonade you brought.

And Colt’s not the only one who notices. He and Reiner are standing back watching Falco and Gabi bury you in the sand.

“Someone’s a little possessive today.” Reiner side eyes Colt, who just shrugs in response, unsure how to answer because he’s not wrong, “I’d say you probably have some competition.”

Colt whips his head towards Reiner, feeling embarrassed to be called out but also slightly confused, “I, what?”

Reiner just laughs before calling out to his cousin, “Gabi! Time to go!”

There’s a cry of annoyance and pleading before Reiner has to go and drag Gabi to the water to clean off the sand.

Colt makes his way to you and Falco, the latter helping you out of the mountain of sand piled on top of you.

“I think I need to rinse off too.” You laugh, wiping at the bits stuck on your legs.

“Me too!” Falco jumps in, “Colt doesn’t have to though.”

You meet Colt’s eyes briefly, and you can see a quick flick of disappointment.

“I’ll start packing up then.” He says a little dejectedly.

Falco tugs on your hand, “Let’s go!” You spare a moment to glance over your shoulder with an apologetic look, but Colt has already turned back to the pile of towels and toys on the ground.

Falco jumps up and down in the water, trying to wash away all the sand on his body.

“Did you have fun today?” You ask while rubbing water onto your arms.

“Yeah!” Falco enthusiastically nods his head, “We should go to the beach every day.”

You laugh at his excitement, “We’ll have to ask Colt, but maybe once a week?”

“Or you and I could just go? Colt’s not my babysitter anymore.”

“But I thought we liked hanging out with Colt?”

Falco shrugs, “I guess.” You purse your lips, about to press further but Falco interrupts you, “I’ll race you back to the beach!” And then he’s off.

You chase after him until you both reach Colt, who is standing with two towels in hand for each of you to wrap yourselves in before heading back to the parking lot. Gabi complains most of the way back about having to go home, even though Reiner reminds her of her softball practice later tonight.

When the group reaches the parking lot Gabi quickly pulls Falco to the side to show him her new game she has while you watch Colt load up the car, admiring how his arms flex while lifting the bags into the trunk.

“So, you two doing anything tonight?”

“Falco has been talking about some new superhero movie he wants to watch, probably will get him a pizza to distract him from the sunburn I know he’s going to feel later.”

You laugh at Colt’s muttering, knowing how he pestered Falco all afternoon to reapply sunscreen, “You have room for a third?”

Colt blushes slightly, always a little shy when you’re forward with your affection and interest in him.

“For you?” He grabs you hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles, “Of course.”

You smile, feeling your own face heat up, “Want me to pick up the pizza?”

“You don’t have to do that, I can just order one.”

“Don’t worry.” Throwing a look over your shoulder you see Falco is still preoccupied with Gabi and Reiner, leaning in you place a quick kiss on the corner of Colt’s mouth, “Maybe tonight we can talk to Falco too? He seemed a little off today, it might help?” Thinking back to his behavior and earlier conversation.

Colt’s eyes widen slightly, “You sure?” He knew that it was something the two of you had talked about but hearing that you were truly ready to be open about your relationship, especially with Falco, had his heart fluttering.

You nod, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Cool. Great.” Colt nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I’ll see you then.”

You fondly roll your eyes, before giving his hand a quick squeeze and head to your car.

Colt leans against the side of his car, watching to make sure you safely get to your car. And if he appreciates the view of you walking away, well that’s between him and himself.

“Did ___ leave already?”

Colt turns to see Falco standing beside him.

“Yeah.”

Falco’s eyebrow furrow, “But she didn’t say bye to me.”

“Well, she’s going to come by later tonight, so you’ll see her then.” Falco’s expression doesn’t change, still staring at Colt with his questioning eyes, “C’mon. Let’s get in the car.” Colt pats his shoulder.

“Okay.” He answers a dejectedly, before climbing into the back seat. He’s silent for most of the ride home, only giving Colt one-word answers and staring out the window.

“Did you have fun at the beach today?”

“I guess.” Colt can see Falco cross his arms and frown in the rearview mirror. It had been Falco’s idea, to go to the beach, had even begged for it, so Colt isn’t sure where the day went wrong.

Colt pulls into the driveway, “If you want, we can order a pizza and ___ can come over to watch a movie with us?”

“Is ___ your girlfriend?”

Colt freezes, unused to Falco’s abruptness. “Why would you think that?”

“Gabi says that when Reiner is texting someone all day it’s because they’re dating, which is what you and ___ were doing! And I don’t want her to be your girlfriend!”

Colt is left awkwardly speechless, unsure of how to answer, “Well I wouldn’t say she’s my girlfriend.” Which Colt mentally slaps himself since the plan was to tell Falco that’s exactly what you were tonight.

“But Gabi says that if you text someone all day that means you like them!”

“Falco, do you like ___?” Colt asks gently.

“What! No! I like Gabi!” Immediately blushing for shouting out his secret. Not that it’s that much of a surprise to Colt.

“Then what’s so wrong if I like ___?”

“Because if ___ likes you better than me, then she’ll just leave with you and I’ll be here all alone again!” Falco quickly unbuckles his seatbelt before jumping out of the car and sprinting into the house.

Colt’s heart shatters. He knew that it hurt Falco when he left for school, but he seemed so much better during winter break, although Colt supposes that was because he had you now.

And while at first it tested Colt’s nerves to know how easily replaced he had been, it actually made him feel so much better knowing that Falco had you looking out for him. And it’s clear how much Falco has taken to you. Hanging on your every word, trying to always make you smile, he thinks the world of you.

And now he’s worried he’ll lose you like he lost Colt? But he didn’t lose Colt, could never lose his older brother, but it’s clear Colt hasn’t been doing a good job showing that.

Colt follows Falco inside, not bothering to unload the car. He heard a door slam upstairs before silence. Making his way up to Falco’s door he gently knocks, the sound of sniffling coming from the other side.

“Go away!”

“Falco, I just want to talk.” Colt hears something muttered from the other side of the door, “I’m going to come in, okay?” He turns the doorknob, and after waiting a second pushes the door open.

Colt didn’t think is heart could take any more pain, but the sight of Falco thrown onto the bed, head buried into the pillow, stomps whatever’s left into pieces.

“I said go away.” Falco muffles.

Colt slowly approaches the bed, taking a seat on the edge. He runs a hand on Falco’s back, trying to soothe his shoulders as they shake with his hiccups and quiet cries.

“Have I ever told you about the day you were born?” Falco doesn’t respond more than a sniffle, “Uncle Grice picked me up from school instead of dad that day and took me to the hospital because you had come into the world that morning.”

“And I’ll never forget when mom let me climb up onto the bed she was on, and you were in her arms. She even let me hold you.” Colt smiles thinking about how astounded his ten-year-old brain was, unable to comprehend that the tiny bundle of blankets held his new brother, “And do you know what I said to you?”

Falco peeks his head up from under out of his elbow, “What?”

“Well first you started crying. And it scared the shit out of me.” Colt smiles when Falco’s eyes widen from his cursing, “And mom took you back to calm you down, but I was able to look over her shoulder to tell you it was going to be okay.” Colt began running his fingers through Falco’s hair, similar to that day ten years ago, “And that your big brother is always going to be with you.” Colt pauses when Falco’s eyes fill with tears again, “I know it sucks that I’m so far away from you now, but I’ll always be your big brother, and I’ll always be there for you.”

“I missed you.” Falco whispers.

“I missed you too.”

Falco jumps up and wraps his arms around Colt’s neck, burying his head into the crook of Colt’s shoulder. And Colt has to hold back his own tears at this point, as he continues to rub Falco’s back.

“Hey Colt?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we still get pizza?”

Colt lets out an unexpected laugh, “Yeah buddy, we can still get pizza.”

Falco pulls back, “And can ___ come over too?”

“You still want her too?” Falco nods, “Then of course she’ll come over. How about you shower off all the sand and then we can have pizza?”

“Okay!” Falco jumps up, already ripping his shirt off and stumbling over the toys on the ground. But he pauses before he reaches the door, turning with a solemn look on his face “Hey Colt?”

“Yeah Falco?”

“I think it’s okay if you and ___ are boyfriend and girlfriend. As long as she is still gonna be my babysitter.”

Colt laughs, “I think that sounds fair.”

…

You let yourself into the Grice home, “Hello! Anyone order a pizza?”

You can hear the fast sprinting of feet coming down the stairs, “___! You’re here!”

“Hi buddy!” You balance the pizza box in one hand, other arm outstretched preparing for Falco to slam into you, which is exactly what he does. Falco seems to be in a much better mood than from what you expected after receiving somewhat worrying texts from Colt.

“Colt said we can watch a movie and eat the pizza on the couch! Can I pick the movie?”

“Well Falco, I think it’s only fair that the underwater handstand champion gets to pick the movie for the night, don’t you?” Falco vigorously nods his head, “How about you go get some plates and napkins from the kitchen?”

“Okay!” Falco zooms into the next room and you can hear the clatter of dishware.

Smiling to yourself you set down the pizza on the coffee table before heading upstairs running into Colt exiting his room.

He grins when he sees you, “Hey, I thought I heard Falco yelling down there. Figured you must have been here.” Colt wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer.

“He seems to be in a much better mood than what you said earlier.” Your fingers trace the collar of his shirt, thinking of the somewhat worrying texts you had received.

“Yeah, we talked, and I think he’s going to be okay.”

You press a kiss to his lips, “Such a good big brother.” And like always, Colt’s cheeks redden at your praise. But the moment is interrupted by shouts coming from the floor below.

“Hey!” Falco shouts, “When can we start the movie?”

“Just a minute Falco!” Colt sighs and rests his forehead against yours.

You giggle, extracting yourself from his hold before pulling him down the stairs with you.

“You can sit next to me.” Falco pats the spot on the end of the couch.

You head over and plop down in the spot Falco saved, “I think this is the best seat in the house.”

Falco smiles and nods, agreeing with you, “And Colt can sit here.” He points to the left of him that’s been left open.

“Thanks buddy. Did you save me any pizza?” Colt nods to the plate in Falco’s lap that’s piled with so many slices that both you and Colt know he won’t finish.

You laugh behind your hand while Falco explains he needs the energy after swimming all day.

Halfway through the movie, a fully stuffed Falco falls asleep, his head on your lap and legs sprawled out over Colt’s knees. You look up from running your fingers through Falco’s hair to see Colt already gazing at you.

You shoot him a smile which he returns, before he wraps a hand around your shoulders, pulling you close to press a kiss to the top of your head. You nuzzle your head against his chest, turning your attention back to the movie.

Yeah, there’s no way you would ever be able to pick between these two.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By My Side (Part 5)

Summary: The reader has finally hired a replacement manager and after a dinner with her family, she and Jensen confront some underlying feelings...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Square: Free Space

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: mature (language, smut (m/f))

A/N: Enjoy!

A/N #2: Written for @spnkinkbingo​

_________

You stretched as you woke the next morning, getting ready for the day of entertaining your family. You bumped into Jensen in the kitchen, a pair of jeans and a simple black henley on him. You smiled but he frowned and you instantly made a face.

“Y/N, don’t turn off your phone ever. It’s a rule, remember?” he said before returning to slurping up his cereal.

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot,” you said.

“Please try not to do it again,” he said. He finished with his bowl and you took the cereal from nearby, pouring yourself some. “Are you deciding on a new manager today?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of that David guy?”

“The british one?”

“No, that was the Mark one. He was scottish I think. I’m not positive,” you said.

“Is David the one that had that intern? The little guy?” he asked.

“Alex? No, he was his just his driver. It doesn’t matter. I was thinking of David. What do you think?”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“You did full background checks on all of these guys,” you said. “Who do you trust?”

“Honestly?” he asked. “I like Jake.”

“The young one?”

“He lacks the experience of the others but I don’t see him screwing you over. He was a navy cadet in college. Had to drop out due to a knee injury. Him I trust. Not that I don’t the others but I got a good feeling from the kid.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” you said. He stood and you grabbed the milk, Jensen wiping off his mouth. “Have fun with your sister.”

“She’s got a work thing at the moment but hopefully she wraps up soon and I can take her out for some fun for a bit. I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

“Later, Jay,” you said, getting a wave from him as he walked out. You poured the milk into your bowl and took out your phone, dialing and hearing a ring tone a few times.

“Hello?” the other end answered.

“Hi, Jake? This is Y/N Y/L/N. I was wondering if you were still interested in the manager position? If you are, you are in for a fun first day with that restaurant photo.”

“Mmm. Smells great in here,” hummed Jensen when he walked into the kitchen that evening. Your mom smiled and immediately rushed over, Jensen tensing up as she gave him a hug.

“Mom. Don’t bug Jensen,” you said.

“It’s alright,” he said, noticing your brothers were nowhere to be found. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Oh his arms are even bigger than you said! He’s handsome too,” she said. You rolled your eyes as you worked over the pot at the stove, Chuck turning around beside you and chuckling. “Jensen, this is my husband, Chuck.”

“Nice to meet you sir,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“You know everything about us already, don’t you,” he said as he shook it.

“Pretty much,” said Jensen. “Y/N’s safety is important and knowing about her family is part of that.”

“Well we certainly feel a lot better with her hiring someone. We’ve never been fans of her living alone,” he said.

“Y/N is quite capable. I’m just here to stop those situations from ever happening,” said Jensen.

“You will be joining us to eat, won’t you? Y/N and Chuck are making us dinner,” said your mom.

“That’s very kind of you mam but-”

“I insist,” she said.

“Just let it go Jensen,” you said. “This’ll be done soon if you want to tell the guys.”

Your parents headed outside, Jensen taking up Chuck’s spot beside you and stirring the cooked vegetables in the pan.

“None of them have any idea about the fake kidnapping or anything else, do they.”

“Nope. Nothing besides what happened last night. Michael and Nick know about the manager thing but that’s it. I’d prefer to keep it that way,” you said. The timer went off and Jensen got it, pushing some of the food around with a wooden spoon.

“They won’t hear anything from me,” he said. “Smells delicious.”

“Thanks. How’d it go with your sister?” 

“Good. I need to discuss something with you later after your family is gone for the night.”

“Everything alright?” you asked. 

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said, the back door opening. “Let’s dig in while it’s hot.”

“Jensen,” you said, finding him out by the pool that night, his feet soaking in the water. “My folks and the wonder twins are gone for the night.”

“Wonder twins,” he chuckled. “They act differently when your parents are around.”

“You picked up on that huh.”

“It’s pretty obvious,” he said. You sat beside him and stuck your feet in, Jensen leaning back on his palms. 

“What’s going on big guy?”

“Are you asking as my boss or my friend?”

“Friend,” you said, bumping his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“My sister wasn’t too happy to see big brother on the news nearly getting shot at. She asked me to consider a different line of work,” he said.

“Oh,” you said.

“Yeah. I’m not quitting, just so you know. A random guy running from the cops doesn’t scare me. Only reason I was on the news was cause of you,” he said.

“There’s a but in there somewhere though.”

“No, not really,” he said. “Just wanted to talk to you about it.”

“So there’s no problem.”

“I like when there’s no problems,” he chuckled. “My job is a lot easier when it’s simple like that.”

“You still have your gun on you.”

“Precaution,” he said. He sat up and took it out from behind his back. “You ever shoot one?”

“Pretend but real no, I haven’t. Can I hold it?” you asked. He set it in your hands, watching you look it over for a moment.

“You’ve had gun training,” he said.

“First season went through a lot of that stuff on the show. We get refreshers,” you said. “Colt?”

“Yes it is,” he said. “You use a glock on your show I believe.” 

Your head popped up and he laughed.

“Yes, even I do occasionally watch TV. Nice gun safety. You never leave your finger on the trigger.”

“Not supposed to, even with a fake gun they taught us,” you said. You lifted it up and held it out, finding it to be heavier than the one you were used to. “I like the grip.”

“You’d probably like a smaller Colt, fit your hands better,” he said. You handed it back to him and he tucked it away. “You see where the safety was on it?”

“Yeah?” you said. He reached behind himself and took your hand, guiding it to the back holster. 

“If I can’t use this, grips on the right side. Take it out, flick off the safety, point and squeeze. It’s that simple.”

“I sincerely hope I never have to put that into practice,” you said as he dropped your hand. Your finger brushed against his back, Jensen frozen solid before you pulled away.

“Any day I don’t have to touch it is a good one,” he said, your hand settling back in your lap. “That...tickled was all.”

“Green beans and tickling. You got some funny forms of kryptonite, Ackles,” you said. 

“Beats actual kryptonite,” he said. “Been awhile since I’ve been tickled.”

“I bet you like it. Being able to feel vulnerable and safe with someone.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Your feet kicked in the water, a smile growing on your face. He bumped your shoulder and your turned your head. He looked different, a softness about him. 

“Are you happy?” you asked. 

“What?”

“Are you happy? I...I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose this job over other things in life, like a relationship. You can have both, Jensen.”

“I’m lost.”

“I’m just saying...you can have a girlfriend and be my bodyguard. You don’t have to pick one or the other.”

“Girls get jealous,” he said. “In my experience. The hours are crap. The inconsistent schedule. I’m too…”

“Too what?”

“Last girlfriend I had...I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” He rubbed the back of his neck and you lightly nudged his foot in the water. “She thought I was too broken for a normal relationship.”

“What?”

“I should have kept my mouth shut,” he mumbled. He started to stand but you grabbed his arm, Jensen sighing and turning to you. “What? I think she might have had a point.”

“I think that was horrible of her to say and I’m sorry she never saw the real you cause him? He is so not broken.”

“You have this perfect image of me. Strong and capable. Dominant. Alpha. In charge, gives no fucks. That’s the bodyguard. That’s not me.”

“I know. I know Jensen likes being tickled,” you said. He rolled his eyes but you caught his chin, Jensen swallowing. “I know he likes the touch of soft fleece and expensive navy boxer briefs. I know he likes classic rock and sleeping in and likes two cream, one sugar in his coffee. I know he talks to his parents every Thursday night for at least an hour. I know he’s quiet around people he doesn’t know and I know he opens up when he’s well and truly comfortable with someone. I know he’s kind and I know he has nightmares sometimes. I know he can play the piano and guitar and he sings in the shower when he’s happy and he checks on me at night and puts my blankets back on me and doesn’t say a word about it, even when I thought he hated me.”

“You pay attention to me,” he said quietly. “Even though you don’t like me around.”

“I don’t like the bodyguard. He’s okay sometimes but a bit much all the time. But Jensen...him I like. I like him alot.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done. What’s been done to me.”

“You’re not broken, Jensen. I’m never going to believe that so don’t even try.”

He put a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in close, so close you could feel his breath  on your face. 

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m screwed up. We’re not supposed to be friends. Don’t you understand that?” he said. Your nose pressed against his, green eyes locked on yours.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand that,” you said. “What do you want?”

“I can’t have what I want,” he breathed out.

“You might be wrong about that. Actually, I’m positive you are,” you said, his hand sliding up a few inches into your hair. “Stop being scared and just tell me what you want.”

He leaned in the last inch between you, gentle lips connecting with yours. He didn’t move for a few seconds, eyes opening when he inched away just slightly. You stared at him and you saw him get the message, another kiss landing on your lips, his free hand sliding around your back. Your arms went over his shoulders, Jensen leaving kitten kisses on you before connecting roughly, giving your whole body a squeeze.

“Bedroom,” you breathed out. He moved back long enough to take his feet out of the water. He hoisted you up and carried you inside, your arms and legs wrapped around him as you returned to kissing him. There was a light scratch from the stubble on his jaw and you tugged on his bottom lip, Jensen pausing as he tried to shut the door behind him with one hand. 

You took the opportunity to tease him, kissing under his jaw while he got the back door shut and locked, his hand slapping the alarm system and the little ping saying it was armed. He arched his neck back and spun around, pushing you up against the wall. You squeezed him tighter, getting gentle bites along your collar bone.

He tore the two of you away and rushed you upstairs, stepping up onto your bed and walking forward on his knees until he could lower you down to your back. His eyes looked darker but playful as he moved up and leaned over you.

“Condom?” he asked.

“I’m on medication,” you said. “You clean?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Same.”

“Good cause I really don’t think I can wait any longer to do this,” he said. He tore off his shirt and you immediately shot your hands up to his chest, running your fingers down it. 

“You’re so damn hot,” you said. He rolled off the bed and dropped his pants, giving you time to get your shirt off. By the time your head wasn’t covered, you had a perfect view of his ass, creamy and perky. Your bra went off quickly, Jensen turning around and making you pause.

“What?” he asked, glancing down at himself and then you.

“Lucky me,” you said. He smirked and you kicked off your shorts and underwear, Jensen crawling back on the bed and hovering over you. You kissed him and he planted his forearm by your head, his other hand trailing down to your breast. He kneaded the flesh gently, swiping a thumb over the bud and getting a tiny gasp out of you. He teased the same nipple with light touches and twists before working the other one over.

By the time his hand made its way between your folds you were soaking wet already.

“How do you want it?” he murmured against your lips, circling your clit lightly with his thumb.

“Want what?” you asked, arching your hips up into his touch.

“Slow. Fast. What do you like?” he asked, kissing your jaw as your breath hitched. 

“Show me how you’ve imagined this going,” you said. He smiled and you felt the head of his cock brush you folds. He teased the head against your clit a few times before you reached down and were guiding him into your hole.

He was a smidge thicker than you were expecting and his length was perfect, solid, long but not too much. He surprised you by wrapping his arms around you pulling you to sit up on his lap, your legs hanging around his waist. He thrust his hips up and you bit your bottom lip, landing back down on him. He moved again and hit your g-spot, your jaw dropping.

“That’s the spot,” he murmured, kissing you as he started a slow and steady rhythm. You hung on for the ride, his hands on your thighs, thick cock pumping into you over and over and over again. You’d been able to play on your own and hit that spot but never with a guy, never had that low pressure simmering in your core.

God it was going to fucking destroy you when it hit.

You couldn’t wait.

You smiled as your nerves tingled, Jensen kissing you all over, his grip strong but everything else soft and gentle. His hair started to dampen with sweat and and you felt a layer cover your body, the steady pace getting you both closer. 

He was nipping at your shoulder when you rolled your hips, Jensen grunting lowly and burying his face in your neck. That was a sound you could definitely do with more of and you did the motion again, Jensen pushing you onto his cock this time. You both moaned, Jensen’s slow pace picking up just a hair.

You were rolling your hips when his tip pounded inside of you and the low pressure started to explode inside you. You gasped and weren’t even sure what the hell kind of sound you’d made, suddenly aware of hot wetness filling you up. Jensen tensed up and slowly started to stop moving, your breath finally coming back to you as he stilled. He dropped his forehead on your shoulder and panted, your hands running up and down his back, playing with his hair some.

You giggled, Jensen letting out one himself and you swore your heart couldn’t have melted any faster. You picked your head up as he did, giving him a long kiss. He rested his forehead on your own, a smile dancing across his face.

“That was the best sex of my fucking life,” you said. He smiled hard and lowered you back down to the bed, holding up a finger. He pulled out and took a few shaky steps before going into your bathroom. He returned with a washcloth, wiping you clean. He tossed it back in the bathroom before he bent down to his pants. You frowned, Jensen looking back as he unclipped his holster from his belt. He walked it over to the unused nightstand and set it on top before he slid next to you. You pushed the covers back and slid under the sheet together, Jensen rolling you close to him and up against his chest.

“I don’t hookup,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. You shut your eyes and burrowed in a bit closer, Jensen pulling you to use his chest as a pillow. “I really liked that. It was fun.”

“We should do it again sometime,” he said. He turned his head and you smiled, Jensen moving a stray piece of hair away from your cheek. 

“I would be much safer if you slept close by, wouldn’t I?” you asked coyly, Jensen already seeing through it.

“Oh yes, much safer.”

“Maybe you should sleep in here from now on...for safety.”

“In the name of safety, for sure,” he said, kissing your temple. “Real talk for a second. If this is just a hookup for you can you let me now over-”

You put a hand over his mouth and stared at him, slowly moving it away and giving him a kiss.

“I like you, Jensen. I really like you.”

He smiled and took your hand, laying it over his chest so you were holding him.

“Goodnight,” you said, kissing his shoulder.

“Night, Y/N,” he said, lightly dancing his fingers over your hip. “Sleep good.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 2/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Mulder blinks in surprise at the widow’s sudden dismissal.  He’s overwhelmingly concerned for the welfare of this woman he’s just met and he has no idea what to do about it, but he does know he can’t just leave her here.  

Moments ago he was looking around this house, thinking that it might just crumble around them where they stood.  The place looks to be already abandoned, far worse than when Old Man Goodwin was living here, and he wasn’t much of a housekeeper.  There are no furnishings.  No dishware or pots and pans that he can see.  No lamps.  Not a knick knack or vase of flowers.  She has nothing.  Less than nothing, really, and he finds that to be unbearable.

The only thing Mulder knows about the widow, Katherine, is that she’s well-spoken and has been educated.  Somewhere along the way there has to have been a fall from grace.  Life has handed her a raw deal, that much he can gather, but there’s a spark of determination in her to keep her head above it all.  She’s utterly captivated him and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let anything happen to her.

A wild idea pops into his head and he’s never been one to pass on a whim, wild or not.  His gut tells him what he’s thinking might be crazy, but he’s followed his gut on crazier notions before and he’s learned to trust his instincts.

“Marry me,” he says.

“I’m...sorry?” Katherine asks.  Her right eyebrow lifts into a perfectly peaked arch and he’s never found anything so endearing in his life.

“Hear me out before you object.”

“I’m listening.”

“Do you have a copy of the lease your husband signed?”

“I do.”

“May I see it?”

She hesitates for a moment, but then turns and moves to the back of the room.  She reaches under the bedstead and returns with a tattered bible which she thumbs through and takes out a folded scrap of paper.  He takes it from her, unfolds it, and then reads it.

“This is good,” he says.  “Exactly as I’d hoped.  Your husband signed a five-year lease with an option to purchase at the end of the term.  Do you know if he has a will?”

“None I’m aware of.”

“And there are no children?”

Her lips part on a breath and then she closes them again and swallows before answering.  “I am unable to have children.”

“I see.”  He folds the lease agreement back along the original creases and hands it back to her.  She slips it into the pages of the bible again.  “Well, in the absence of any will, you would be the sole beneficiary.  If we were to marry, I would assume your assets as well as your debts.  I can pay what’s owed and if Mr. Skinner will allow it, make good on the option early.  And you do know that it would also mean that what I own becomes yours as well.”

“I am quite certain you could own this land without marrying me.”

“That’s true I probably could.  But, then where would that leave you?”

“I haven’t quite solved that particular problem yet, but you certainly don’t need to concern yourself with it.”

“Oh, but I do.  Now that I know you, I can’t leave you here.  You’ll be removed from the property soon enough and with no people to come for you or to return to...well, I couldn’t stand by and see that happen.  My conscience would not allow it.”

“I could find work.”

“Out here?  The only spot in town that would hire you is a house of ill-repute.  Unless you plan to walk to Fort Worth, and even then there aren’t a lot of...look, I bet you know how to mend things?  Cook some?  Clean?”

“Of course.”

“I would offer you a job in that respect, but towns are small and people talk.  If I take you on as a single woman to a ranch with six men about, people may think something improper was going on and that would affect business.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Mr. Mulder.”

“All my friends just call me Mulder.  You might not be my responsibility, but I happen to like you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know you’re smart and you’re kind and I enjoy speaking with you.  And I know you don’t deserve to be put out on the street with nowhere to go and no people to turn to.”

She looks down and away from him and he moves his hand out to lift her chin, but thinks better of it and doesn’t touch her.  He knows horses a lot better than he knows people, and hardly knows a thing about women, but she reminds him of a spooked colt and he doesn’t want to overwhelm her and cause her to retreat.  Horses will hurt themselves out of fear, and she just might do the same.

“Think of it as a business arrangement,” he says.  “You will be in charge of the household duties, and if you ever decide you’d like to leave, I will be sure you’ll go with the value of this land in your pocket.”

“Cooking, cleaning, mending,” she mumbles.  “What else might you be expecting?”

“I’m not looking for sport, if that’s what you’re thinking.  I told you, there’s a house in town and If it was sport I was after, there are certainly far cheaper alternatives.  Excuse me for being blunt.”

“No, I appreciate your honesty.”

“You can trust me.”

“I’d like to believe that.”  With her head still lowered, she reaches up and brushes the side of her hand across her eye.  “What if one day you find a woman you actually wish to marry?  Start a family.  What would happen then?”

“You don’t have to worry about that.  I have a singular focus and nothing else matters to me.  But, if you should wish to marry, one day-”

“I won’t,” she says quickly, and firmly, shaking her head down at the floor.  “I do not wish to marry again.  I mean...aside from what you’re proposing.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You would really do all of this for a bit of land?”

“It’s good land.”  He pauses and twists his lips for a moment or two.  “But, as I’ve told you, it’s not just for the land.”

She finally glances up at him, but then quickly looks away again.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asks.

“I believe God has a plan for everyone.”  Her brows furrow.  “But, fate?  Logically, I would have to say no.”

“One of my horses threw a shoe today.  I wasn’t supposed to go into town this morning, and yet I did.  If Faithful Jenny hadn’t thrown that shoe, I wouldn’t have been in town and I wouldn’t have found out about your husband.  If I hadn’t found out about your husband, I wouldn’t have ridden out here.  If I wouldn’t have ridden out here, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“But, if you weren’t away on business, you could have had this land six months ago, as you said.”

“Exactly my point.  If I had purchased this plot six months ago, you never would’ve shown up here.  I think this is meant to be.  I think this is fate.”  

“I don’t know about that, but...may I have a day to think this over?”

“Of course you may.  And please, let me take you away from here.  There are coyotes and bears that are apt to prowl around at night and this door doesn’t look very stable.  Not to mention the drifters that pass through and the Indians that roam about, though they won’t usually do you any harm unless provoked.  Still, I’d feel better if you’d come with me now.”

“Wouldn’t that look improper?” she asks, and her brow quirks again, only this time it feels a little more playful.  

“Yes, Ma’am, it would, if I were to bring you home.  I was planning on setting you up in town.”

“Surely not to the house of ill-repute?”

He smiles, glad that she’s in good enough humor to engage in a bit of banter.  “John Byers and his wife Susannah operate the mercantile in town.  They also have extra room since their boy, Franklin, has gone off to school.  When I tell you that Susannah would be delighted for a lady friend, it might be an understatement.”

“If I leave with you, what if Mr. Skinner shows up?”

“I’ll handle Skinner.”

↭

Leaving with this stranger will not be the most rash thing she’s ever done, but it will be high on the list amongst the impetuous things she has done in her life.  There’s something about him though that calms her insecurities and makes her feel like she can trust him.  Besides, there really doesn’t seem to be any other option except to sit and wait to be evicted.

“Bring with you whatever you might need for a short time,” he tells her.  “We can come back with a cart for anything else.”

But, there is nothing to come back for once she packs her nightgown, her bible, a tin cup, a broken hair comb, and a deerskin blanket into a burlap sack she’s been toting for the last few years.  He looks at the sack and then at her and around the small sod house as if he’s waiting for more possessions to magically present themselves.

“This is everything I have,” she tells him.  

“Alright then.”  He nods and puts his hat back on.

His horse is very fine looking.  Yellow, with a white mane.  It whinnies when it sees him and he scratches it under the chin and rubs its nose.  For a moment, it almost looks as though they’re holding a private conversation, with the horse nodding and whinnying and Mulder whispering softly to it.  The horse scrapes a front hoof into the dirt and Mulder pats it gently on the shoulder.

“This is Blondie,” he says, smiling as he turns to her.  “I was letting her know to be on her best behavior while you’re on her back.  Do you ride?”

“I’ve ridden some when I was younger.  I can walk, though.”

“We have to cross a creek up a bit and you’ll be safer and drier up here.  Don’t worry, she’s nice and gentle.  I’ll lead her.  All you have to worry about is sitting straight and not falling off.”

“And getting up.”  She eyes the stirrups on the saddle and estimates they’re at least as high as her shoulders.

Mulder chuckles and takes the sack from her.  She notes the consideration he takes in placing it down on a patch of grass a few feet away and doesn’t drop it in the dirt.  He comes back very close to the horse’s side and lunges forward a bit and slaps his knee.

“Go on and grab the saddle horn with your left hand and step on up with your left foot.  You may have to lift your skirts a bit to throw your leg on over.”

It takes her three starts to gain the momentum to hoist herself up.  She does what he tells her to though and gathers her skirts up.  She knows she should be embarrassed by the holes in her shoes and that she has no stockings, but she lost the ability to care about such things a long time ago.

“Well done,” he says, and then passes the sack up to her.  “I’m going to adjust these stirrups to fit and we’ll be on our way.”

He works the buckles and straps swiftly and expertly and apologizes for touching her ankle when her foot momentarily gets in the way.  After he’s done, he brings the reins down over the horse’s head and turns it away from the house.  Katherine realizes, once they’re some ways away, that she never even had the thought of turning back for a last look.

He tells her about the potential he sees in the land as they walk.  He tells her about the corral he’d like to put up and how he would like to expand his business of training horses.

“You’re not from here,” she says at one point when he’s lost in his rambling.

“No, I grew up back east.  Massachusetts.”

“How did you come to be so interested in horses?”

“Hand down that sack and hold on tight here, we’ll be crossing the creek and the horse could slip.”

She gives him her burlap bag and holds firm to the horn of the saddle.  He throws the sack over one shoulder and guides the horse towards a small embankment and then tests the footing before they cross.  She’s barely jostled by it.  He stomps his boots once they’re back on dry land and hands the sack back up to her.

“That’s my girl,” he says, patting the horse lightly on the neck.  The horse snorts and its ears twitch.  “That creek was the dividing line of our properties.”

“Perhaps not for long.”

“Hopefully.”

The faint aroma of fire is in the air and she can see a thin curl of grey smoke in the distance.  She sees Mr. Mulder breathe deep and then smile broadly.

“Looks like Melvin has noon dinner on the stove,” he says.  “We’ll eat before we head into town.”

She doesn’t tell him, but she hasn’t eaten for almost three days.  The pump behind the house gave plenty of water, but their food stock was depleted even before her late husband left last Saturday.  She was able to boil some dandelions for a couple of days, but quickly ran out of matchsticks.  Her stomach clenches and her mouth waters at the thought of food.

“So, you want to know how I came by the horse business,” he says.

“Mmhm,” she murmurs.

“When I was five years of age, there was a cholera outbreak in Boston.  My parents, in their wisdom, felt that the city was unsafe for their children and they sent us away to live with my father’s dowager aunt at her country estate.”

“Was that difficult?  Being away from your parents?”

“Not at all, actually.  Auntie was a great lover of the outdoors and of children.  She cared for my sister and I like we were her own, spoiled us as though we were as well.  She gave me a little pony with a little cart for my birthday and that’s where it started, I suppose.”

“What happened when you went back to Boston?”

“Ah, well.  I didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“The cholera took my mother.  My father was not as equipped to care for children as Auntie was.  He allowed my aunt to adopt us and then he eventually remarried and I have a younger stepbrother named Jeffrey who I don’t know much about except that he’s probably of the age to start college soon enough.”

“And what about your sister?”

“Her name was Samantha.”

“Was?  Oh.  I’m sorry to have-”

“You do not have to apologize.”  He stops the horse and looks up at her.  “It was a long time ago.  She was eight when she passed on.  Smallpox.  She loved horses even more than I do.  Blondie was actually her horse.  Of course, she was a bitty little filly at the time, but Sam made me promise to take care of her, and I have.  She’s been with me nigh on thirteen years now.”

Katherine doesn’t know what to say to this.  The small smile Mulder gives her after he stroke’s the horse’s cheek is a sad one.  It’s a painful reminder of the grief she also carries that she’s never spoken so freely about.  She’s never spoken about it at all, in fact, and she can’t ever see a time when she will be able to.

The rest of the journey to the ranch is in silence.

[thebluenoteblog]

Oh, Baby

Summary: Your lie leads to a fight which leads to a silent treatment and a very interesting hockey game.

Player: Colton Parayko

Word Count: 3.5k

Requested: Can i request a fic with colton where he and y/n fighting or having an argument but he has to leave for the road trip the next day so you don't have time to apologize then when you want to call him to apologize turns out he calls you first? I really like all your fics! Bur really love the colton ones! Good job!

You sat on the bathroom floor staring blankly at the wall with the test grasped loosely in your fingers. What a colossal fuck up. What a massive, grade A, absolute fuck up. You tossed the test up angerly into the sink then sunk back against the wall with your head in your hands. You’d done it now. You’d really gone and ruined everything.

You were pregnant.

You had only been dating Colton for six months and the idea of sitting him down right now and telling him that you were having his baby was the most terrifying nightmare that you could imagine. You had faith in him. You knew he wouldn’t walk out on the baby. But… what if he walked away from you? What if he did something even crazier like… propose?

You allowed your head to fall back, smacking against the wall as your eyes fell closed. Literal nightmare. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and looked up the number for your doctor’s office. There was no sense in telling him anything until after everything was confirmed by a blood test and an ultrasound.

You scheduled an appointment for the next week and climbed back to your feet, buried the test in the bottom of the trash can then opened the door. There wasn’t any time to sit on the bathroom floor and be pathetic. The game came was coming on in a few minutes.

****

Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump.

You stared at the monitor in awe as tears filled your eyes. That little blob was your little blob and you loved it. It had a heartbeat and as you were answering the doctor’s questions about yours and Colton’s genetic histories you had come to realize something else. This baby was half Colt.

You could picture a baby boy with the palest skin, lightest blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes, always filled with curiosity. You could see a toddler on his first pair of skates wobbling around the ice. A little boy running around the playground always faster than everyone else, so much taller than all of the other kids in his class. More determined to succeed than the other kids and doing it effortlessly but doing it so quietly and humbly that no one noticed.

For the first time since the positive had shown up on that pregnancy test you were happy. The problem was you still didn’t have any idea what to expect from Colton when you told him. Because now not only were you pregnant but you’d known for a week and neglected to tell him. For three days you’d had an excuse while he finished up his road stint, but he had been home for six and was leaving the next day. Still you’d neglected to spill.

You had the excuse of the doctor’s appointment until today.

Which meant you had to tell him tonight.

You prayed for a win.

“You look to be measuring at around five weeks,” the doctor said casting a smile in your direction before she returned her gaze to the screen to snap a few pictures. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong. Everything looks great.”

You walked out of the appointment with three pictures of your little baby, a video of his heartbeat and the feeling of a piano having been lifted off of your chest but chained to your ankle.

****

They lost. Badly.

You left Enterprise right after the game and headed home without waiting for Colton.  You sent him a quick text message simply: come over to my place. I’ll cook for you.

           He didn’t respond right away but you didn’t expect him to. Half an hour later he responded with: I’ll be on my way soon.

You were moving around your kitchen throwing the ingredients of a dish that you knew he loved together in a way that you had memorized by this point when he walked into the house. “Kitchen!” You called anxiously.

You had yet to decide whether or not you were going to tell him about the baby after their horrendous loss to the Canes. So, when he walked into the kitchen all smiles you were relieved. You were expecting a grumpy Colton, not a happy one.

“Do you just call out what room you’re in every time someone walks into the house?” He asked, “What if I was someone breaking in?”

“I live in the suburbs.” You said while stirring the pot on the stove, “The worst crime I’ve seen since I moved into this neighborhood was some kid setting up confetti cannons to go off when people opened their front doors.” You looked up, “That’s why I’m thankful I don’t have a storm door.”

“There’s a first for everything,” He said moving closer to look over your shoulder at what you were cooking. He studied it for a moment then asked, “Is this pity food?”

You laughed, “No.”

“Is it…” He paused, “Guilt food?” He studied you and you avoided his eyes, focusing your attention on the pot and stirring with more focus than was probably needed. “It is guilt food!” He exclaimed, stepping around you to lean against the counter so he could see your face. “What did you do?” He asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Who says I did anything?”

“You’re making me guilt food, you basically admitted it.” He said, “That means you did something. So, spill. It obviously isn’t that big of a deal or you’d be more concerned. What, did your ex leave you more flowers?” You shook your head, “Did you wear one of the other guys jerseys to the game?” You just laughed in response, “Come on your killing me here, (Y/N).”

“You have to eat the guilt food first,” you said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t even say it’s guilt food… just… put you in a good mood food.”

He groaned and stepped behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing himself against your back and using his free hand to brush the hair off of your neck. He pressed a kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder just above the line of your shirt. “Come on, tell me. You know I don’t like to wait.”

You sighed as he continued the trail up the side of your neck then whispered in your ear, “Please, (Y/N/N)?”

Well, he’d done it. He found your weakness. Your brain was only halfway functioning as you whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

You didn’t realize the words had come out of your mouth until you felt him freeze behind you. After his long pause you were halfway expecting him to drop his arms, back away, and retreat from the room, maybe even your house. But he didn’t. He pulled the wooden spoon out of your hand and placed it on the counter then took half a step backwards, so he had room to turn you around. Now that you were facing him he looked into your eyes and in the most dazed, confused voice you’d ever heard leave his mouth, asked, “What did you just say?”

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as he stared down at you. You could tell he was beginning to get impatient when finally, you managed to tell him for the second time, “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

His eyes widened but he didn’t say anything, clearly shocked into silence. You would give him his moment though. He was still taking it better than you had. He hadn’t thrown anything. You lowered your eyes to the floor, took a deep breath and then twisted to turn off the burner.

When you turned back to face him Colton was staring at your stomach. “There’s a baby in there?” He asked quietly. He still sounded confused. Not angry. Not indignant. Just confused like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of there being a tiny human running around the world with his looks and your stubbornness.

“Yeah,” You said, “I went to my first ultrasound today. I have the pictures if you want to see them.”

He slowly looked up from your stomach to meet your eyes. “You went to the ultrasound without me?”

You licked your lips nervously while shifting your weight from foot to foot. It hadn’t really occurred to you that he might want to go to this appointment. He was so busy with playoffs coming up and you had been so upset about being pregnant at the time that you had just assumed he would be as well. Though somehow judging by the hurt look in his eyes it seemed like a bad idea to tell him that you thought that he wouldn’t be interested in going. “I wanted to be sure before I said anything. I didn’t want to worry you unless I had to.”

“How long have you known?” He asked now taking a step back.

You responded slowly after an awkward pause, “A week.”

“How could you keep something like this from me for a week, (Y/N)?” He asked. He wasn’t yelling, his voice was a controlled calm. “We’re supposed to be a team. You can’t lie to me about stuff this big.”

“What if it had been nothing?” You asked.

“Did you think it was nothing?” He responded, his tone rising for a second before he calmed it again. This was a man who laughed when people tried to punch him yet he was struggling to control his anger over something you had done.

Your lack of an answer was more than enough of an answer.

He crossed his arms and stared at the floor. You pulled your lip between your teeth and stared at him. There was a tense silence for some amount of time that seemed ungodly but probably wasn’t actually that long.

You shuffled your feet along the hardwood floors, “Are… are you mad at me?”

“Yes… yes (Y/N), I’m mad at you.” He said, and you winced because you didn’t even need a full hand to count the number of times that Colton had openly admitted to being mad at you in the six months you’d been together. “I’m already going to miss so much. I could have actually been there today. You didn’t even think to give me the choice.”

“Colt, I was scared!” You defended, arms crossed over your chest and chin stuck out stubbornly. You briefly felt a flash of pity for your boyfriend if the baby did, in fact, inherit your stubbornness.

“Of what, (Y/N)?” He asked, rather loudly for a man who prided himself on so rarely getting angry.

You snapped back, “Of what you would say! Of what you would do! I didn’t know if you would want to have a baby with me! What if you thought I was trying to baby trap you or something?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked, shaking his head. He took a step away from you. “Wow. I thought our relationship was a hell of a lot more than that. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“People do crazy shit when they’re stressed,” you told him, again finding yourself defending your position.

He just continued to stand and shake his head at you. After a tense silence he turned and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. You followed, closely on his heal. “Where are you going?” you asked him.

“Home,” He said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Colton do not walk out that door,” You stated with wide eyes as he pulled on his coat. He eyed you with a look that very clearly said I’d like to see your microscopic ass stop me.

He made it all the way there, had his hand on the door knob, then sighed. For a moment your heart lifted as you thought he had decided to stay. He turned to you, pressed his lips to your forehead and said, “I love you.”

Then he was gone.

****

You realized that you were wrong about five minutes after he walked out the door. Your pride however, would not allow you to call him and apologize. To be completely honest, you didn’t think he would answer if you did. You’d never seen him this angry with you. He had never walked away from you in the middle of a fight.

This time he’d completely left the house.

You’d expected him to stop by the next morning before he left and fix things. Nothing. Radio silence. Not even a text message.

Then he left town.

Without another word.

That was when you got an idea of how angry he really was. You could never imagine him doing this, let alone five minutes after finding out you were pregnant. It was so uncharacteristic for him. You’d really fucked up and you knew it.

But even the day he arrived in Boston you were too afraid to call him and apologize. Too afraid that he would ignore your call, send you to voice mail, or tell you that he was done with you. A thousand worse case scenarios ran through your head every waking moment of the day and hormone and fear induced nightmares destroyed any chance you had of regaining your sanity while you slept.

You almost didn’t watch them play the Bruins. You almost decided to sit in the bathtub with some music playing, tune out life and pretend that your world wasn’t falling apart. Though as you sat down on the side of the tub, before you even turned on the water, you sighed and shook your head.

You couldn’t miss the game.

You hadn’t missed a Blues game by choice since years before you’d started dating Colton. You weren’t going to be so petty that you chose this one to miss. For all you knew he would play amazing and you would miss it, then you would feel horrible and it would make the situation even worse.

So, you stood your miserable ass up, made your way into the living room and turned on the pregame. You saw him for the first time since he walked out the door two days before as they showed clips of him skating around the ice during warm ups.

He looked out of it. He wasn’t talking to any of the other players like he usually did. He wasn’t smiling or laughing or tossing pucks over the glass. He was going through the motions. You really hoped that he had more life than that during the game.

A small part of you was relieved that he was as unhappy as you.

A bigger part of you hated it.

The game started, and you really wished it hadn’t. The first twenty minutes was nothing but Colton missing passes, overshooting the net by a mile, and giving the puck to the other team. By the time intermission came you were really wishing you could have a glass of wine.

Then second period started.

What Chief said in the locker room you would never know, and you were sure Colton would never tell you but things turned around really quick. His first shift he came out onto the ice skated straight to the player with the puck and completely destroyed him in the middle of the ice. He passed the puck to Perron who buried it in the back of the net.

Everyone looked a little bit surprised, especially the dude in black and yellow still in the process of regaining his balance as the Blues celebrated their goal. You were right there with them. He didn’t stop there. His next shift was on a Blues power play and after almost taking off Rask’s head with a slapshot, he was passed the puck again a few seconds later. Back of the net. Blues 2-0.

Colton with an assist and a goal. Two points in five minutes after the cluster fuck that was the first period. Lord bless Chief and whatever magical powers he possessed.

Not long passed before Colton was throwing his hands in the air, indignant look on his face as he skated to the penalty box. “St. Louis 55, two minutes for charging.”

Well… yeah. It was a good call. But Colton was pissed. He wasn’t talking or laughing or smiling in the box like he usually did. No. He was angry.

He came out on the ice ready to fight. You didn’t even have time to register who the player with the puck was before Colton smashed him into the boards.

Colton is a big guy. He was pretty angry when he made the hit, so it was safe to assume that he hit the guy pretty hard. It was also safe to assume this because the Bruin’s feet came out from under him and struggled to get back up. His teammates didn’t seem to like this very much.

You watched with wide eyes as Wanger got in his face, well… tried to get in his face, yelling something. They dropped their gloves.

And holy shit, Colton won the fight.

The best part of the entire game? It was listening to Pang’s commentary on Colton’s random personality change. “That sure was something from big fella, number 55. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him lay a hit like that on someone!”

“And the big fella follows up his assist with a goal? So, what do you think was said between periods Kelly? Have you ever seen this kind of aggression from Parayko before?”

“Well Kelly, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day that Parayko took a charging penalty and a fighting major in the same game. That must have been some chat in the locker room.”

And you didn’t realize it until John Kelly responded but when he did you actually laughed at the absurdity of the entire situation. “Well Pang, Parayko just completed a Gordie Howe hat trick. That is definitely a  first for him.”

You decided in that moment that you really needed to call him before the Blues played their next game. Someone was going to get hurt.

****

You wanted to call him that night when the game ended but you knew you would have had to wait until he got to his hotel in New York, god knows when. So reluctantly you laid down in bed deciding you would call him in the morning.

Though you couldn’t sleep, so you were laying in bed reading a book at three thirty in the morning when your phone started ringing. It was a facetime. You didn’t have to look to know who it was from. There was only one person who ever facetimed you this late at night. You jumped across the bed and grabbed your phone off the charger, sliding to answer it then settling back against the headboard.

He was sitting in bed, no shirt, hair a mess. “Hey,” you said.

“Hey.” He said.

“So…” You started, “Gordie Howe?”

He pulled a face, “I was really hoping you didn’t watch tonight. First period was brutal.”

“Second period was fun though.”

He gave you a stern look, “(Y/N), I sent a guy to concussion protocol.”

“He was cleared,” you defended.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, “I don’t think that’s the point.”

“Actually,” you said, “I think that’s a huge part of the point.”

“(Y/N).” He said, stressing your name in a way that made the smile fall off your face as easily as it had come. “This isn’t why I called.”

Oh, right. You were pregnant. You lied to him about it. You went to an ultrasound without him. He was pissed. He left town without making up with you. There were a lot of big things happening in your relationship right now.

“I’m sorry-,”

“No,” He said, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You asked, actually confused. You were wrong. You knew you were wrong. Objectively, most people would say that you were in the wrong.

“I’m sorry that I left the other day without fixing things,” he said. “I’m sorry that I left town without coming by to see you.” He shifted the phone and readjusted himself on the bed, now leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. It was a dick move. I’ve felt like shit about it since I got on the plane.”

You shook your head, “You shouldn’t be apologizing, Colton. I’m the one who should be sorry. I lied to you. I took something away from you that you can’t get back and that wasn’t fair.”

He sighed, looked down at the floor as he responded, “Do I wish that you would have told me, and I could have been there? Yes, I do. I really fucking do. Do I hate why you didn’t tell me? Yeah, it really sucked to hear. But it happened. It’s over. I love you and I love this baby, and nothing changes that.”

“Colton,” you said quietly, and he looked up at his phone. You could see his eyes. They weren’t sad like you thought they would be. “I love you too,” you smiled at him, “and for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t want to start a life with anyone but you.”

Slowly, he smiled back at you. “Babe, I’ve never wanted a life with anyone as badly as I want one with you.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH12

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Violence, a little NSFW

WC: 3847

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean calls Sammy on the way to the bunker as a way of distraction and also to update Sam on things. Sammy always wants Dean to update him on what’s happening, even though he’s out of the organization (because Dean wanted it that way) and Sam damn well knows that he shouldn’t know too much about all the things anyway, but he’s fucking stubborn. Dean sometimes wonders where his brother's stubbornness comes from.

To Dean’s surprise, Sam wasn’t really shocked about the Jo thing, he’s more interested in how Y/N ended up at Dean’s place and what’s happening between them. Dean couldn’t answer the questions even if he wanted to, mainly because he doesn’t know it himself. It’s all too new, and he still needs to adjust himself to feel all the things he feels. Doesn’t mean that it’s bad. It’s quite good actually, maybe too good, too.

As soon as he arrives, Dean storms through the bunker door and runs down the winding stairs. His steps echoed in the large space.

“Where is she?” He shouts out, his voice deep and loud as he hurries down where he knows she is. 

And that’s the thing, Dean knows exactly where Cas put her, it’s just courtesy of him to inform Cas so the other man can stop him from doing something stupid once he gets to Jo. And boy does he want to do something stupid, something his hands were itching to do since Y/N called him from Jo’s phone.

“Dean!” Cas calls out, breaking into a run to keep up with him. 

“Did she talk?” Dean growls, walking swiftly through winding corridors.

Cas has a hard time keeping up, almost trips but can save himself gracefully, “No, didn’t say a word,”

“That’s what I thought,” Dean arrives at the door to the dungeon and pushes it open, revealing Jo. The blonde woman is bound to a chair, her face bruised and swollen, and Dean guesses that Cas also has something to with it, and it wasn’t only Y/N who did this to her. He can’t help but feel a little proud of his girl. Well, not yet his, but it already feels awfully like she is.

His grip tightens around the gun he grabbed from his glove compartment before he entered the bunker, and he draws it from his holster as he hurriedly strides towards the chair Jo’s sitting on. He stops a mere inch from the blonde woman’s face, making her stare into the barrel of his Colt with wide eyes.

“What the fuck did you want from her, huh? Tell me, Jo!” Dean’s breathing hard, his heart is pounding out of his chest, adrenaline surges through his veins.

“Dean, don’t,” Cas says, “I mean, not now. Later, maybe.”

Jo chuckles, “Yeah, listen to Cas, Dean.”

Dean knows that Cas is right. He wishes Cas wasn’t though. 

Hesitantly, Dean lowers his gun, puts it back into its holster and walks around behind Jo, his fingers grab a handful of hair at the top of her head and pulls her head back forcefully, making Jo whimper in pain. He lowers his face to speak next to her ear, “What the fuck did you want her for?” 

“Ah,” Jo gasps, “You always liked it rough, didn’t you, Dean?”

“Fuck you,” He hisses, releases her head with a push, and walks around to the front again, “Just know something, alright? I really hate hitting women, and to be honest, I don’t think I ever did hit a woman in my life. But you? You really fucking deserve it.” He slaps her across her face with his left hand. It wasn’t that hard either. Not yet. He can’t go in too hard, he needs room to be able to step up his game.

Jo bites her lip in the process, blood drips down her chin, dropping onto her already stained shirt. She looks back to Dean, and he can see the corner of her lips curving up to a smirk, despite having just been slapped. She’s a feisty little bitch, he should have known. 

“Since when is it all about the girl? It’s not about me being a snitch anymore, is it?” Jo spits onto the floor, a mixture of blood and saliva. It almost hits Cas’ shoe who’s standing next to Dean, and as a protective measure, Cas takes a step back. “Oh Dean, what happened to you? You getting soft, ain’tcha? You hit me because of a damn girl you didn’t even fuck?”

Dean surges forward, places his hands around Jo’s throat and squeezes as he lowers his head and whispers into her ear, “You try that again, I won’t have a problem putting a bullet through your fucking head, Jo.”

“Uhh… Kinky,” Jo answers, her voice strained but still, she tries to talk, tries to rile Dean up, he knows, “Can you be as rough with her as you were with me, huh? I can imagine that she’s more a vanilla kinda girl. You’ll bore yourself to death with her, Dean.”

Dean chokes her more, making her look him in the eye and she’s already zoning out by the lack of air that reaches her brain. 

“The worst mistake I ever made, — and believe me, I regretted it every day — was letting you talk me into fucking you and not just once. It’s all on me, I get that,” Dean’s grip on her loses quickly to make her come back to her senses so she can still hear him, “And to tell you the truth? I didn’t even enjoy it, and your screams were a turn off. All I wanted was for you to shut your damn fucking mouth. Why do you think I fucked your face for so long and barely fucked you for real? Why do you think I’ve never once taken an item of clothing off? Because I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could!”

Cas snorts out loud from the back.

“See? Cas knows what I’m talking about because I’m sure that you did the same to him too, tried to fuck your way up, didn’t you, Jo? And when it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to, you turned to Lucifer.” Dean lets go of her throat, letting her catch her breath. Jo coughs, her eyes are teary. 

She spits more blood onto the floor, “Fuck you!”

“What did he pay you to manipulate me, Jo, huh? Tell me how many cocks did you suck to land yourself a gig for him?” Dean snickers, “Did he promise you a place on his right side? You fucking know that if he wanted to, he could just sell you, right?”

Jo looks at him, and Dean could see the anger in her eyes, but there’s also something else — madness. Since when did she change? It’s like he doesn’t even see the real Jo any more, that’s not the girl Dean used to know.

“One thing is pretty clear. You won’t get out of this bunker.” Dean’s voice is low and steady.

Jo coughs some more before she returns to her poker face, “Ah, I like it here, you know. A fucking bunker! Why did no one tell me about it? You didn’t even trust me enough?”

“And we were right we didn’t,” Cas adds dryly. 

Jo starts to laugh, “You guys really think I’m the only snitch, don’t you? It’s so cute of you.” 

“What do you mean?” Dean raises his eyebrow. 

“What I said. There’s more than me. Lucifer just pays way more, you know? And I didn’t even have to suck cock for it!” She looks at Dean and damn winks. 

He slaps her again, harder this time. “You fucking greedy bitch,” 

“Jo, I would suggest that you talk or you’ll be dead. I highly doubt that you really want to die. And if it’s not us, then Lucifer for sure will kill you if he knows that we kept you and you talked to us, even if you won’t say jack squat.” Cas comes to stand next to Dean. 

“I need something before I talk, you fucking bastards!”

Dean looks at Cas and sighs, “Yeah, I agree. I need a fucking drink!” 

He has a feeling that it’s only the beginning of a long fucking evening.  

  After Dean had left, Y/N dashes into her bedroom and grabs the case files she pushed under her bed to hide it from Dean.

Jesus, how stupid of her to leave them lying around while she was out. 

She hoped that Dean didn’t notice. She actually didn’t want him to come up here at all but he was so determined and she’s weak, she knows. Weak because she too, didn’t want to part from him. 

These fucking feelings, seriously. It’s going to jeopardize the whole operation, she just knows that they will. She’s never been so careless before, her line of work doesn’t allow that. She’s usually very professional. 

Usually. 

That’s before she met him. 

Maybe there’s a way out?  

Y/N sighs because she knows that there isn’t. At least not one that would leave both of them happy. Perhaps she could take that fall? Perhaps she could somehow get out of all this so that Dean can go on with whatever he’s doing? She’s sure now that he has a good heart and the vengeance she felt she needed… it’s not there anymore. It wasn’t Dean’s fault that her father is dead, she sees that now.

She cleans out her room as best as she can and hides the things she doesn’t want people — Dean in particular —  to see into her safe and locks it up before she looks around with her hands braced on her hips, admiring the work she did in cleaning up her apartment. 

Sending a text out to Linda after, she arranges for a meeting but before doing that, she’s going to take another shower. One that she needs because she’s all sticky down there and it would calm her heart, maybe it’ll also ease the aching between her thighs. 

In the shower, Y/N can’t help but think of Dean, smirks to herself, and blushes because how can she not. They kissed, and fuck, if it wasn’t nice she doesn’t know what is. Her heart flutters the more she thinks of him and instead of the water washing away the stickiness, her body just adds even more of that sticky sweet thing for her to wash away. 

While she washes herself down there, she braces her foot on the bathtub, is thankful for having a combined shower/bathtub thing because it makes being naughty in the shower so much easier. 

Y/N carefully slips a finger in, moans a little at how good it feels. With her other hand, she uses her showerhead, aiming it at her clit as she probes at her entrance with another finger. She massages her clit with the showerhead while she fucks herself on her two fingers, she never dared to use three, thinks it might be too much. Her two fingers stretch her just enough and she moans as the water stream hits the right place. She pants and closes her eyes, thinks of Dean, of his lips on her, of his big hand around her, of his fucking big cock inside of his sweats that she felt against her thighs. 

She can’t help but wonder if he would fit, kind of guesses that she needs to prep herself if she wants to accommodate the whole of him. Her legs start to tremble as she comes with a loud moan and she bites down on her bottom lip as she feels the flush of her cheek. Is a little ashamed of herself, ashamed that she came with Dean on her mind, can’t lie about that because it’s a first for her. The first time she ever thought about anyone and not just let the overwhelming lust take over when she does it. Not that she’s doing much of it in the first place.

She debates on taking a nap after her shower, but knows that if she would fall asleep now, that she’s mostly going to sleep through her alarm, which would also mean that she would sleep through the meeting she should be having with Linda and there’s no way that she can miss that one. 

  Cas follows Dean out of the dungeon, leaving Jo behind who screams for both of them to come the fuck back but the voice is cut off — when she’s about to throw in some more profanities — when the door slams close.

They walked back into the library together, wordlessly.

Dean goes straight for the little bar he had once set up since they made the bunker their HQ, pouring two fingers full of whiskey into a tumbler and downs them straight before he pours another three fingers while Cas just watches. He looks back to see the blue-eyed man watching him and Dean raises his eyebrow in question. “You want a drink?” 

“No, no,” Cas says and pulls the closest chair to sit down, waits for Dean to join him. 

“Ugh,” Dean sighs as his heavy body thumps down into a chair across from Cas.

“What a day, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Dean takes another sip, squints a little at the burn but welcomes it nonetheless.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks, pressing the fingers of his hands together and releasing them like it’s something that calms him down. “Do we keep her alive? Do we treat her like all the others?”

Dean let Cas’ questions sink in, taking another sip and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“No,” Dean says then, “Yeah, no. We keep her alive. For the time being at least. I want someone with her during the day. We talk to her, we make her rethink her stance. When I look at her, I don’t see the Jo I know. I see some madwoman. Maybe we can get the old Jo to come back.”

Cas nods his agreement. “What if she doesn’t come around?”

“We take one day at a time, Cas. We have to try. I owe her family that much.”

“So, who do you wanna put on her?”

Dean huffs before taking another gulp of his drink. “You, me. Sam. Even though I don’t like Sam to be involved at all, so we only ask him if we really have to.”

“That’s not enough to cover the days.”

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t trust anyone with the information about this bunker.” Dean licks his lips. “Not until I know if there are other fucking traitors around. We’ll get Rufus, Bobby, Inias, Donatello too. Maybe Jess and Rowena can come around to keep her company as well.”

Dean basically just counted down people who already know about the existence of the bunker and he knows that he could trust them to keep what happens to Jo a secret to the rest of the organization and the outside world.

“Sounds like a plan,” Cas says, pushes his chair back with a creaking sound that makes the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. “Let’s start by fixing her up and then we can start on talking some sense into her.”

“Yeah, let’s.” Dean chuckles because Cas is all enthusiastic. It’s to cheer him up, Dean knows that too.

  Y/N’s back in her apartment when she realizes that she doesn’t even have food and forgot to do some shopping on her way back. She opens one pantry after the other, finds coffee and cereals but there’s no milk to eat it with and she can’t drink another cup of coffee if she doesn’t want for her eyes to vibrate. Stuffing her mouth full of plain cereal, she chews and walks to her room to change into her pajamas. It’s only 7 PM but she feels like she’s been awake for days and her body is sore. 

She was so, so close to telling Linda to call it off but then Linda was rambling on about how they have intel about a big moving of narcotics in a couple of weeks time, and she was sure that it’s Dean. Linda needed her to find out when that’s going to happen, and seriously, how could she not do it? She owes Linda that much, she guesses. 

Linda had asked about her cheek and she lied that it was her walking around the bar in the dark and hit her face on the door. Linda bought her sorry excuse and Y/N was relieved.

However, Y/N steered the conversation away when Linda suddenly asked how it’s going with Dean and if she had made any progress. 

If Linda only knew… 

Y/N’s not going to say anything though, knows that if she tells Linda that she knows where Dean lives or any of the other things that happened, Linda will blow it off and orders for her to go right back, and she doesn’t really want for it to happen. If someone calls the operation off, she’s the one to do it and it should be on her to decide if she wants to go back at all.

Right now, Y/N’s not sure if she fits into her old life anymore, if she would be happy at all once she goes back. It all started as a way of vengeance but it became so much more. Something she wasn’t really prepared for. In hindsight, nothing could have prepared her for falling… No, she’s not going to go there.

Now she’s back in her apartment, kind of misses Dean a little but he’s obviously busy because he hasn’t replied to the text she sent an hour ago.

She settles into her bed, opens her laptop, and logs on to Netflix. Maybe watching something will distract her from her growling stomach and her heavy heart.

Browsing through the lists of series she once started but never finished, she gets distracted by the buzzing of her phone.

 D: Sorry it took me so long to answer. You okay?

Y/N: Don’t worry about it. Yeah, I’m still tired though. Going to bed now.

D: What are you wearing?

 Her eyes widened at the straightforwardness of his text.

 Y/N: What?

D: I’m really just kidding, sweetheart. Did you eat anything?

Y/N: A handful of cereal. But don’t worry. I’m more tired than hungry.

D: Just FYI. Someone will knock at your door in about 40 minutes. 

Y/N: What? Who?

D: You’ll see. Now you rest, okay? Miss you.

 There she goes again, her cheeks feel hotter with every thudding of her heart.

 Y/N: Miss you too. Good night Dean

D: Good night, sweetheart

 She smiles and places her phone back onto her nightstand as she settles in her bed. She couldn’t help but wonder how it would be to fall asleep next to Dean. He’s so big and broad and he makes her feel safe and she curses herself for being too drunk last night to really enjoy his presence. If he was in the same bed with her at all? She tries so hard to remember something but the memories stay away from her brain.

It’s exactly 40 minutes later that someone knocks at her door. She opens up to Bobby, holding a bag full of greasy but delicious smelling food with a bright smile on his face. 

“Dean worried about you and told me to bring you something to eat. I didn’t know you’d be alone so I guess you’ll have enough food to last you a week now.” Bobby’s laughing because the bag is stuffed full with a dozen containers at least.

“Well, do you want to come in and eat with me?” She asks, opens the door wider for Bobby but the old man waves her off.

“It’s madness in my shop, darling,” He lets her take the bag from his hand. “I’ll see you soon, alright?” Bobby says and leaves, but not without giving her a bone-crushing hug to remember him by.

  It’s almost 2 AM when Dean’s back home in his apartment. Jo’s lips are still sealed shut and maybe they would have cracked her open if Dean would have been a little kinder to her, but he was just too butthurt that she hurt his girl and also too exhausted and it wouldn’t have needed much for Dean to put a bullet through her skull. 

Cas was aware of Dean’s distress and he was the one who suggested that Dean went home and maybe take care of Y/N. Cas would follow up with the people and see who can be available the first thing in the morning and Dean’s thankful for that. Thankful to have Cas, who kind of grounds him. 

Cas didn’t put into his equation that Y/N’s not here and is most likely already sound asleep —  in her own fucking bed.

Dean peels himself off his sweats and shirt, thinks about taking a shower when he feels something rub against his legs. 

“Hey, buddy. You hungry?” Dean says, smiles a little as Cuddles nudges against his skin. “You know you’re not allowed in here,” Dean picks the cat up and walks out of his bedroom, only to notice the stench smell now, “Shit, forgot to clean up your litter box this morning, didn’t I?” 

Cuddles meows and jumps from Dean’s arm to walk to his food tray and Dean pours food into it while the cat swallows with pleasure. He changes the water for the cat before he makes his way to the litter box, wrinkling his nose as he cleans it out.

  *

 Dean wakes with a gasp, cold sweat beads on his forehead. For a brief moment, he was back at being shot at, loud noises around him, he breathed in dust that burned in his lungs.

He risks a glance at the clock, sees that it’s 2.44 AM. He had barely slept ten minutes.

Getting up, he gets into a pair of new sweats and zips a fresh hoodie up around his body. The cat looks surprised when he sees Dean walking out of his bedroom. At first, Dean tries to ignore the questioning glare but then he could feel the gaze following as he walks to the front door.

“Stop looking at me like that,” He says, slips into his sports shoes at the entrance. “I’m not doing anything stupid.”

Dean gets up, and grabs a key to his SUV, and steals a glance at the cat before he opens the door. The cat was still looking at him grumpily.

“You know, sometimes I really think that you should go and live with Sam. You two would get along just perfectly.”

He steps out the door and locks it behind him. 

Before Dean knows it, he’s on the road.

CH13

[mst3kproject]

324: Master Ninja II

There used to be a restaurant in the plaza across the street from where I work that actually had a conveyor belt buffet.  Plates of sushi would go around and you could pick the ones that looked tasty, and when you were done the staff would count the empty plates to calculate your bill… whereupon you would realize your eyes were bigger than your tummy and your wallet was smaller than either.  It truly was a work of evil genius.

So here we have the continuing adventures of Max and McAllister the Boring White Ninjas, and Max is still a whiny dolt with a hamster instead of a personality.  First, he enters a motorcycle race, where he’s beaten by Carrie, a young woman trying to unionize the cannery her town depends on.  Naturally the business owners don’t want to waste money treating their employees like human beings, so they’re trying to run her out of town. The good guys win, the girl kisses Max, and we’re on to the next episode, in which a senator’s garden party is interrupted by members of a militant cult.  Lucky for his guests, the senator’s cute daughter Alicia invited Max and McCallister, so there are ninjas on hand when the cops need somebody to rescue the hostages.  Unlucky for McCallister, the Foot Clan is still following him and they choose the worst times to swordfight.  The good guys win, the girl kisses Max, and then the movie’s over. ‘Bout time.

This movie is so boring I think I actually died while watching it. I saw a light and flew towards it, but then a voice told me that my job wasn’t over – I still had to write the review! Next thing I knew, I was face-down, drooling in my keyboard.  Now that I’m back, though… what the hell am I supposed to write?  I think I already got through everything I had to say about The Master in my first review, and the second is really just more of the same. Timothy Van Patten is just about the most boring actor I can possibly imagine, and we get the idea that Max wouldn’t give a shit about any of this injustice if there weren’t pretty girls involved.  None of the this-week-only characters are played with any conviction.  The stunt fighters are bad.  Lee Van Cleef has more screen presence than the entire rest of the cast put together and is entirely wasted on this stupid show.

One thing that I guess does kind of stand out is how badly they use slow motion.  We see it now and then – particularly in two consecutive motorcycle jumps, which I suppose are meant to look impressive.  They’re not very, and the slow-mo just gives us time to notice that rather than Van Patten and Van Cleef, the bike is being ridden by a stuntman and a potato sack in a helmet.  Later we get slow-motion of a truck breaking through a gate, which just doesn’t come across as worthy of it.  They don’t even do anything to make the wood break dramatically.  Remember in A Knight’s Tale where they filled the lances with spaghetti to make lots of fake splinters when they broke?  There’s nothing like that here, they just run over a gate and expect us to think it’s cool.

Then there’s the ham-fisted writing.  The villains are such caricatures of evil, they’re almost as bad as real-life politicians.  Even worse, the exposition.  Why does McAllister just randomly die in the hotel room?  There seems no reason for it, unless, like me, he died of boredom listening to Max talk.  It establishes he can do that so he can ‘resurrect’ later, but it’s so obvious that when he does ‘die’ we don’t believe it for a second.  It’s all so blatant that it’s almost painful to watch.

So when the movie explains things, it’s annoying, but when it doesn’t, it’s even worse.  Episode Two begins with Max in a small airplane, saving a girl whose car brakes are out. Uh… what?  Where’d he get the plane?  When did he learn to fly it?  How did he know the girl needed saving?  Did she just happen to be there?  What the hell is going on?  We never find out.  The fact that this sequence gets the whole plot going means it at least introduces the plane without the big flashing sign that this will be important again later, but all our initial questions about the opening remain unanswered.

I can also say that the second episode that went into Master Ninja II, while still not something I’d go out of my way to watch, is much, much better than the first one.  This is at least partly the writing – the bad guys in the second half are slightly less cartoonish and much more threatening, and the various intersecting storylines make it somewhat less boring.  The second half also has actual ninja stuff going on, which is a definite plus in a movie called Master Ninja.

There’s not a whole lot of ninja-ing happening in the first half, and when it does, it’s almost as if they chicken out from actually showing us. McCallister throws down a smoke bomb to vanish with the damsel in distress… and the camera cuts away!  They had a chance for a neat in-camera effect, and they totally dropped the ball!  Later, Max throws a grappling hook so he can climb a wall… and again, the camera cuts away!  Instead, the set-piece action sequences for this half are a couple of car chases. These are badly filmed, never giving us the sense of danger they should have, and make the aforementioned poor use of slow-motion.  A few caltrops and throwing stars come out, but only really appear in close-ups of a hand holding them, in the vain hope we won’t realize it’s not actually Lee Van Cleef doing the ninja stuff.

The second half more than makes up for it.  Max throws a smoke bomb, and we actually see the effect it has on the soldier he’s fighting!  McCallister climbs a wall, slips, and has to grab the bricks with his crampons and throw his grappling hook again!  Ninjas doing ninja things!  And of course there’s the fight between McCallister and the Foot Clan guy. It’s not great.  The relatively enclosed space of the hotel suite could have been used far better, and if Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum will forgive me, I’m afraid I just do not believe that ninjas shout “ha!” every time they throw a punch. And yet, after the near-absence of ninja stuff in the first half, I was eating it up.

The big problem with the second half of Master Ninja II , besides the whole why does he have an airplane?! thing, is that we don’t have a sense of place.  This isn’t so important at the senator’s garden party, where everybody’s pretty much in the same space and the bad guys descend from above and leave the same way. We also know how the cops managed to find their hideout, since we saw the tracker get stuck to the helicopter (although how Max found it I have no idea), but what’s where in this place? We’re told that the hostages are up in the tower, but that doesn’t look like a good place to keep them.  We don’t have a sense of where all that is in relation to where Max and McCallister get in or what obstacles might be in their ways, and not enough is made of what does happen inside that it seems important it would be a surprise.

While the fight between McCallister and Foot Clan Guy does provide the best action scene in the entire movie, it also has nothing to do with the plot of that particular episode.  Again, this is a thing that would work in a TV show, where they need to intermittently remind us that the overarching storyline is still going on somewhere in the background.  If this extra ninja were to do something like injure McCallister, leaving him less able to carry out the rescue, that would be important.  Or if he and McCallister were to put aside their differences for the episode and work towards a common goal, maybe something to do with the security guy who seems to know them both, that would be relevant.  But he appears, there’s one fight, and then he’s gone.

I’ve complained before about the practice of putting two episodes of a TV show together into a movie, but out of all the variations on that theme that showed up on MST3K, I’m pretty sure the Master Ninja people did the worst job of it.  Sandy Frank would at least give us both the beginning and the end of things like Time of the Apes and Fugitive Alien, even if it were hard to understand them without some of the stuff from the middle.  Cosmic Princess and Riding with Death both picked pairs of episodes that had characters or situations in common, and did some dubbing to strengthen the connection.  Master Ninja just gives us Episode One and Episode Two, without even the slightest attempt to provide a narrative connection or to disguise the fact that these are two unrelated stories.  It’s particularly blatant when they just cut from ‘happy ending of Episode One’ to ‘action opening of Episode Two’ without any sort of bridge.

I really did mean to get to Master Ninja II ages ago, but every time I tried to watch it I ended up just giving up.  The first episode was just such a slog of annoying writing and bad acting that I couldn’t take it.  When I finally watched it, the fact that the second half was so much better helped, but on average the whole Master Ninja series is just so dull and nondescript that I have no urge to watch it or anything else to do with it.  Thank goodness MST3K never did a Master Ninja III.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Golden

(A Spicyhoney ‘The Village’ AU)

Notes: Even more from @cheapbourbon ‘s Village AU and if you haven’t seen this latest picture, pause and go look.

Ugh, it’s been so long since I updated this one, sorry about that. That said, I love this chapter. ^_^

Warning: There is a mention of previous attempted rape. Nothing graphic, but heads up.   

The story so far:

Crimson

Yellow

Blue

Blush

Sallow

Russet

Spice

Whiteout

Sable

Blue on Black

Midnight

Ebony Falling

Read ‘Golden’ on AO3

or

Read More here!

~~*~~

Rus woke cramped and sore, blinking confusedly at his surroundings. For a dizzying moment he didn’t know where he was, why he could see snow instead of walls and the sun was hinting at cresting the horizon right in front of him instead of through a window.

Then it all came back to him in a rush, everything that happened that horrible night; Elder Smith, Dogamy’s rescue, leaving his brother, and being attacked by a woods Monster only to be saved by Edge.

Edge.

Rus sat up straight, looking around wildly. There was no one in sight, only snow and trees. But a flash of crimson in his own lap caught his eye and Rus looked down to see he was covered in not only his own cloak, but Edge’s as well.

The fire had burned down in the night, but there were fresh logs upon it along with a crudely-made tripod where a small steaming pot hung suspended over the coals.

Relieved, Rus sank back into the little hollow of the tree. No desperate fever dream, then, Edge was surely close by. There were a few dark, stiff patches on Edge’s cloak, dried blood. Rus reached out timidly to touch one and caught sight of his gloves. He raised his wrist, studying the symbols woven there and remembered the other creature’s reaction at seeing them.

"i supposed i'm married now, after all," Rus murmured. Or something close to it. Even without a ceremony or so much as a jumped broom, it seemed these gloves marked him as being under Edge’s protection. No wonder Edge was cross when he caught Rus not wearing them before.

The deliberate sound of a twig snapping nearby made Rus look up to see Edge walking towards him. Without his harness and cloak, he seemed oddly taller, his tunic and trousers tight to his bones. In one hand, he held a brace of coneys, an unusual breakfast to Rus but his hunger didn’t care.

“Hello,” Edge said, solemnly, and Rus smiled helplessly.

“hello. oh, you must be freezing, here!” Rus tried to pull Edge’s cloak free from his own, but Edge crouched next to him, stopping him with a gentle touch and a shake of his head. “come now, it’s freezing! i’m right by the fire, i’m fine.”

Edge didn’t seem moved by his protests. He ducked his head, taking a soft kiss that Rus returned shyly. It felt different somehow, to think that they were married instead of meeting for an illicit tryst. He wondered with a tinge of discomfort if Edge would want more from him, if he would demand his spousal rights this morning.

But no, he broke the kiss, pausing to rub a gloved thumb lightly over Rus’s bruised cheek bone with a frown. Then he turned towards the fire, lifting the pot with a padded cloth. Carefully, he poured the steaming contents into a roughly hewn cup and held it out to Rus.

He took it warily, blowing on it to cool it before taking a tentative sip. It tasted strongly herbal, not unpleasantly, almost like golden flower tea.

Edge poured another cup for himself, shifting to sit opposite of Rus in the hollow of the tree trunk. It seemed an odd contrast to be sitting in the woods with the gold of the rising sun sparkling over the snow while sipping tea like one sitting in a parlor.

It was almost surreal, honestly; he’d expected to spend a few days searching for Edge, how was it possible Edge found him instead? It sent an uneasy trill down his spine to think of it and a ridiculous idea occurred. Perhaps this was a dream after all, perhaps…perhaps he’d never left that imprisoning room, perhaps he’d imagined his rescue. A truly foolish thought, but one that he couldn’t shake. The dull ache on the side of his face seemed to belie that but how—?

"how are you here?” Rus blurted. Edge tilted his head to the side curiously and Rus tried again, thinking desperately at how to phrase it. “i mean, how did you find me? here?”

He gestured around them, and Edge’s expression cleared. With his free hand, he reached out and took Rus’s, turning it over and tapping the symbols at the wrists.

“my gloves?” Rus said doubtfully. As he watched, sockets widening, a faint glow rose from the symbols, gleaming rich crimson even in the dawn light.

“Mine,” Edge said simply, and Rus didn’t know if he meant the symbols, the glow, or simply Rus himself.

“you knew i was in danger because of the gloves," Rus asked slowly. "um, danger. trouble? bad? That bad things were happening?”

Edge shook his head. He gestured around them, reaching behind to pat against the tree. “No, no, no. Here.”

"that i was here...that i was in the woods?"

That earned him a nod.

"Trees." Edge smoothed his hand down the bark. "Trees speak."

"the trees told you i was here?" Rus said, skeptical and a bit amused. “i'll take your word on that; they’ve always been rather quiet with me.”

He blinked as Edge reached out and flicked the side of his skull lightly. “Rus hear more.”

It took a moment until it clicked, that Edge was telling him to open his ear holes like Blue had sometimes scolded him as a child. and then Rus was forced to stifle giggles because Edge had actually made a joke, by the stars! Irritating as it was to learn Edge was hiding the true extent of his understanding, it was something of a relief now.

Some of his uncertainty about all this was easing. Things would be strange and possibly frightening, Rus was certain, but it would be all right with Edge here.

He hoped.

To his dismay, after their tea was finished, Edge made no move to cook anything else. Instead, he doused the fire in snow and packed away the little pot and cups in a pouch that he hung at his waist, the coneys hanging next to it. His thorny harness was next, lifted from where it sat by the tree like the skeleton of some unknown beast. Once it was secured, only then did Edge take his cloak. The spines protruded from it and when he settled his bony mask over his face, Rus couldn’t help a faint shiver.

Even knowing this was Edge, it brought back memories of the other Monster the night before. He wondered what had become of it, was it only wounded? Had Edge killed it?

Then Edge pushed his mask up to sit atop his skull, spoiling the illusion. He gave Rus a gentle smile and offered a hand down to pull him to his feet.

Rus wobbled for an embarrassingly long moment, his legs briefly refusing to cooperate. After all the walking the night before and sleeping curled up and cramped, his bones were vehemently protesting this unaccustomed abuse. He didn’t like to think at the bruises that lay beneath his trousers, but surely they only worsened the problem.

“i’m fine,” Rus protested, shaking away Edge’s steadying hands. He nearly toppled into the snow for his hubris, and ignored Edge’s huff of laughter as he took a few steps, unsteady as a new colt. “yes, this is all hilarious, i’m sure.”

When he was certain he wasn’t about to fall on his face, Rus turned back for his pack. Only to find it gone, already slung over Edge’s shoulder.

Well, that he wasn’t about to protest. Edge started off towards the rising sun and Rus stayed close to his heels. He cast a last uneasy look behind him, at the little clearing and the remains of the fire, at the village that he couldn’t see through the woods, so far away now.

Then he turned back to Edge and followed him.

~~*~~

Walking through snow, Rus learned, was nothing like his short treks through the wood during the summer and fall or the roads he traveled to town during past winters. To begin with, every step sent snow up nearly to his knee and his trousers were quickly damp. Pulling his foot back out needed to be done with care and more than once Rus lost a boot in the icy depths. Even his best footwear wasn’t made for this sort of travel, unlike Edge’s that cuffed over his knees, and his feet were soon damp as well.

It didn’t take him long to figure out it was easier to step into the holes left by Edge’s boots, but by then, Rus was already shivering, huddled into the heavy depths of his cloak for the meager warmth it provided. At least his hands were comfortably warm, safely encased in his gloves.

When his teeth began to chatter, Edge paused, turning back to him and one sweep of crimson eye lights over Rus made him frown. Rus yelped in surprise as he was scooped up and quickly carried through the snow to be sat on a fallen log.

Whatever Edge was muttering beneath his breath had the tones of concern and annoyance.

He quickly stripped off Rus’s boots, inspecting the bones even as Rus squirmed against the worsened chill of his bare bones in the cold air.

“that isn’t helping,” Rus complained as Edge cupped his heel in both gloved hands. Then he gasped as Edge leaned down and breathed over his foot, a wash of unexpected heat over the bones. “oh! how are you-ohhhh.”

Edge did it again, his breath was strangely, gloriously hot and soon Rus could feel his toes again. He repeated it on the other foot, then picked up his dripping boots.

Rus could only watch, dumbfounded, as Edge’s hands glowed, the same crimson as his eye lights and the symbols on Rus’s gloves. Steam rose from his boots and when Edge handed them back, Rus yelped and nearly dropped them from the startling heat.

“how did you—" Rus began, a low whisper and thoughtlessly, he made a warding sign against evil.

Crouched in front of him, Edge made a scoffing sound and mimicked the gesture mockingly. Well, maybe he was a devil after all, but if so, Rus never expected evil to be so sarcastic.

Once his boots were secured again on his feet, Rus started to hop down. Only to be swept up into Edge’s arms, held securely as Edge began walking again.

“you can’t carry me the entire way,” Rus protested, trying to squirm free. Not that Rus knew any such thing, but it was the principle of the matter. Edge stopped, glaring down at him. In answer, Rus only squirmed again. “put me down, i can manage!”

He squeaked as Edge’s grip tightened and he scolded, “No, no, no.”

Sulkily, Rus relaxed into Edge’s arms. “fine, have it your way. i hope your arms are sore tomorrow and don’t be asking me to help with it!”

But it was difficult to be cross when Edge ducked his head and buzzed a wet kiss against his cheek bone. Rus giggled helplessly, pushing him away and sank back into Edge’s arms with a sigh. There were certainly worse ways to travel, after all.

The rocking rhythm of Edge’s steps turned out to be terribly soothing and soon Rus was drowsing in his arms, listening to the crunch of snow and Edge’s breathing. All his traumas of the day before lay behind his eyes, waiting for him, but Rus pushed them aside as best he could.

Safe in Edge’s arms, he slept.

~~*~~

The sun was high overhead when Rus woke again, grumbling as he was firmly jostled. Disoriented, he blinked up to see Edge looking down at him, a brow bone raised.

“oh. are we there?” Rus asked muzzily. Wherever ‘there’ was.

In answer, Edge’s lowered him to the ground, waiting as Rus again struggled for balance. When it was apparent that Rus wasn’t going to topple headfirst into the snow, Edge told him firmly. “Rus, stay. No run, yes?”

“yes, i’ll stay,” Rus agreed, warily. What in the name of the Angel was Edge getting them into?

That question was only somewhat answered when Edge called out in words that Rus didn’t understand. In front of them was nothing but trees and branches, so what…?

At first, he didn’t see it. It came slowly into focus the longer he looked; directly in front of them was a shelter of some sort hidden beneath a layer of snow and heavy branches. A door being flung open made it easier to see and a crimson-clad figure came out, tromping through the snow.

Distantly, Rus thought Edge had the right of it warning him not to run, because if he hadn’t, Rus might well be over the next hill by now.

They were taller than Edge, looming over him, and a bone mask covered their face. Instead of eye lights, Rus could see eyes peering out through the holes, dark brown with snaps of red in the sclera.

Edge only met those eyes with his own fierce gaze and as Rus watched, the two of them made a series of complicated gestures. From his belt, Edge took the conies and held them up, unmoving as the other sniffed at his offering.

Then they turned and barked loudly towards the hut. The door opened again and two other figures approached. Both were shorter than the first and Rus caught his breath when he saw one of masks.

It was the creature from the night before. One of the mask’s teeth had a distinct snaggletooth, one that Rus feared he would see in his dreams. Or nightmares.

Then he could only blink in disbelief as they pushed up their mask and revealed a person who resembled one from Dogamy’s line. His teeth were more jagged and the eyes dark instead of warm blue, but this one was hardly more than a boy, probably younger than Emma. There was a long, jagged cut across his muzzle, clotted with dried blood.

This was what had terrified him so last night? He was barely past childhood!

The tallest creature pushed up their own mask and their resemblance to Dogamy was even more uncanny. He said a harsh word to the boy, his pup, Rus suspected.

The boy said nothing, even as Edge repeated the words. He took hold of Rus’s arm and held it up, pointing firmly at the symbols at his wrist.

The boy finally replied, sullenly, and his father slapped the back of his head with enough force to send his mask sliding back down. The last creature pushed up their mask to reveal a pretty female who began a scolding litany and while Rus couldn’t understand the words, he’d been on the wrong side of his brother’s temper enough times to guess what was being said.

She took the boy by the ear, still scolding, and dragged him back to hut while he yelped.

When they were gone, the father turned back to Edge, bowing deeply with his arms crossed over his chest. Edge nodded curtly and, to Rus’s dismay, handed over the coneys. To his embarrassment, his soul gurgled hungrily, gaining him a set of twin amused looks.

Rus huffed. “well, i’m terribly sorry, i haven’t eaten since yesterday!”

Hunger crossed the language barrier, it seemed. Edge pointed towards the shelter, gesturing for Rus to go inside and nervously, he did, leaving Edge outside with the taller creature. Perhaps Rus could ask for his name so he could stop thinking of him as ‘creature.’

Rus had to brace a foot against the wall to pull open the heavy door, squeezing through it before it fell shut behind him.

It was cozily warm inside the shelter and much larger than it seemed outside where it was half buried in snow and branches. Above his head, Rus could see it was made of tightly woven branches and the floor was covered with heavy furs and colorful rugs, woven not only in crimson but purples and yellows.

By the door were boots and Rus hastily pulled off his own before stepping further inside. Circling the rounded wall were several bedrolls and the boy was laying on one, his head turned pointedly towards the wall. The female was standing in the middle next to what seemed to be a large, glowing stone, stirring a pot suspended over it.

Their masks were hung by the door. The skulls less disturbing without eyes glaring out from them.

The female looked up from the pot and gave him a gentle smile. She pointed to one of the bedrolls and Rus smiled gratefully, sitting down as she bustled over to him with a bowl, chattering happily and seeming unconcerned that Rus couldn’t answer.

The bowl was filled with some sort of thick soup and at her urging, Rus picked up the wooden spoon and took a bite. Nothing at all like his brother’s cooking, the spice was enough to make his sockets water, but it was certainly tasty, and his soul had no complaints, greedily accepting.

She knelt by him, handing him pieces of strange, flat bread between bites. It was chewy and mild, a good contrast to the soup and soon Rus was satisfied. Before he could even ask where to wash up, the bowl was whisked from his hands and carried back to the pot.

The door opened, Edge and the father stepping inside and in short order, Edge was sitting by him with a bowl of his own.

The father and…mother? Rus supposed it made the most sense, each took a bowl of their own, though the mother took a moment to exclaim happily over the coneys. They ate in silence, all but the boy who Rus suspected was receiving a punishment equivalent to being sent to bed without supper.

When they were done and the mother had taken the dishes away, Edge took Rus by the hand, drawing him to his feet. Confused, he followed as Edge led him to the boy’s bedroll.

The boy rolled over at a quiet word from Edge, looking up at them warily.

Edge took Rus’s hand and set it atop the boy’s muzzle over that nasty cut. He seemed to be struggling for a word, finally settling on, “Help?”

“help,” Rus repeated, realization dawning. “you want me to heal him? i…i can try, i’m not very good—"

Edge only nodded encouragingly, and the boy looked wary yet hopeful. It must be paining him and for all that he’d given Rus a terrible fright, his soul was a soft one and he couldn’t stand to see anyone hurting.

Closing his sockets, Rus focused on the wound, murmuring a prayer of healing. A faint sputter of warmth formed under his hand and, encouraged, Rus spoke louder, chanting as his brother did during a healing. That warmth grew gently as he asked the Angel to guide him, and when Rus finally opening his eyes, he was panting a bit, feeling drained.

When he lifted his hand, the wound was mostly gone, with only a pinkened crease remaining. The boy was trying to look at it with crossed eyes and he whined, tongue lolling out as he gave Rus a surprisingly winsome grin.

Hesitantly, Rus reached out, scruffing him behind the ear as he might have to one of Dogamy’s pups. The boy leaned happily into his hand, one foot twitching.

Edge shifted to sit next to him and Rus glanced his way. His smile was soft and pleased, and Rus could only smile back. Not at all the healer his brother was, but not useless. Hopefully, he was showing that he would be able to pull his own weight.

He looked around the hut, at the cozy interior. A loom sat in one corner, one of those colorful rugs being worked, and he could see someone was doing leatherwork as well. From the woven ceiling hung bundles of herbs and the braided heads of wild onions, lending a spicy aroma to the air. Language barriers aside, this wouldn’t be a terrible place to spend the winter. There would be plenty of time to learn each other’s tongue in the coming months.

Things were looking up.

~~*~~

He had a chance to rethink that later in the night. The light from the strange, glowing stone was banked, the hut cast into darkness. On his bedroll, the boy was asleep, snoring enthusiastically, and on the far side, mostly out of sight but certainly not out of hearing, his parents were coupling.

The dim light cast wild shadows across the ceiling. Rus squeezed his sockets shut, curled up on a bedroll with Edge and trying to ignore the low grunts and softer, feminine cries across the way.

It was mortifying; how could they, knowing that Rus and Edge were so close by, never mind their son! He could barely recall the occasional thump from his brother’s room, long ago when…when he wasn’t a widower, but certainly nothing like this.

Edge was warm behind him, holding him close, and suddenly Rus wondered a bit wildly if he’d be expected to do the same. Every bit of his upbringing rejected that idea soundly; he couldn’t possibly. Edge had always been so gentle and understanding before, but they seemed to be married now. What would he do if Edge insisted? If…if he was like Elder Smith, if he—

No. No, Edge wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. But Rus was not certain and fear was starting to pulse in his soul.

He lay stiffly, listening as the grunts across from them picked up speed.

Edge shifted and Rus barely stifled a terrified whimper. He couldn’t stop shaking, his bones rattling faintly. Edge’s pelvis was close to his tailbone, his arm draped over Rus and it would be so very easy for him to pull Rus’s trousers down and have him. Certainly no one here would stop him; Rus’s gloves protected him but also marked him. He was Edge’s now, and he could do to Rus as he liked.

Very softly, Edge murmured in his auditory canal, “Rus?”

He flinched, trying not to crawl away because he couldn’t, he had nowhere else to go, but, but, he couldn’t do this, couldn’t have relations while others listened.

“no,” Rus gasped faintly. He could taste salt, tears seeping from his sockets. “p-please, no, not here.”

But if they were staying the winter here, he would have to, wouldn’t he. He wouldn’t have a choice, he couldn’t put it off, would have to obey his husband, he’d always been taught that a husband’s will must be his own.

Edge’s hands moved, but not to the fastenings of Rus’s clothes. Very carefully, he shifted Rus to face him and Rus tried to brace himself, expected a mouth on his own or weight settling atop him. Instead, a strong hand cradled his skull and the other settled on Rus’s back as Edge pulled him into a gentle embrace, though not so tight that Rus couldn’t escape it if he wished.

“Shhh, k’uhah,” Edge soothed. His eye lights were the forbidden color, and yet, they were soft, gentle. “Shhhh. No, no, no.”

“no, no, no,” Rus repeated, low and thready, clinging desperately to those simple words.

“No, no, no,” Edge agreed, and Rus almost collapsed against him, still trembling. Time ticked by and Edge only held him, his hands did nothing untoward, didn’t grab or twist. Didn’t hurt.

He heard the others finishing in a flurry of low growls and gasps, and cringed deeper into Edge’s arms. Arms that only held him and demanded nothing.

Long moments of silence, of listening to Edge breathe. Very slowly, Edge moved to rest a gloved hand over Rus’s soul, murmuring “Love, Rus. Love.”

He’d said that before, and at the time Rus hadn’t wanted to hear it, focused on nothing but getting home to his brother. Now it soothed him, allowed him to inch closer, timidly curling up against Edge. Very softly, he whispered back, “love, edge.”

Deep in his ribcage, Edge rumbled out a contented sound, like a well satisfied cat and Rus was forced to stifle a giggle, finally relaxing against him.

He should have known better. Edge had never given him any sign of cruelty or force. Even the first time they’d met had only been moments of fear, never harm. The supposedly terrible Monster of the Woods had only ever shown him kindness, which was more than Rus could say about his own people.

His struggle with Elder Smith seemed to have tainted him after all, with fear.

Stubbornly, Rus snuggled closer, settling in to sleep. He’d already lost his home, nearly lost his brother. He wasn’t about to allow Smith to take anything else from him.

tbc

[pandaisalwaysinlove]

The clown thing again  chapter 3

Summary: Sam and Dean realize they need you for the case. Only you can help them catch the demonic bastard. 

Warnings: violence, threatening, flashbacks of suicide attempt, language

Genre: fanfiction

Pairing: reader x sam, reader x dean

Rating: 18+

A/N:  We are around season 2-3, the boys still don’t have  Ruby’s dagger or colt. Old ways to exorcise, uups 

Chapter one here . 

Chapter two here. 

Gif is not mine, picture is. Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------    -------------------------------------------

Sam and Dean both kept silence as they tried hard to think it all through. They rode back to the asylum, wandering in their own thoughts. Impala quietly purred as if it would like to encourage them. 

Sam couldn’t imagine the horrors Y/N must have last out. A ghost would be mercyful. They kill, but don’t torture. The don’t talk.. usually. And most of all - they don’t enjoy it. 

Only demons can cut someone’s ear because the find it amusing. Only demons can possess someone close to the victim so their threats will be more effective. Sam was sure under the mask was a man close to Y/N. How else would the demon know her secrets? The deep sometimes dark secrets one says only to a lover? He was also sure that he must help her. No one deserves to be tormented by evil twisted vial demonic clown. 

Dean wondered how and most importantly why the demon focused on Y/N. Did he do it just because of fun? Was it normal demon they can exorcise? And as a racional man he mostly thought of how the hell they will kill the thing. How can they find it? If it’s not stupid and doesn’t wear the mask at broad daylight, they hardly can know who it is. They must set a trap, he concluded. 

“Where are we going?” asked Sam after a few miles. He was so deeply focused on his thoughts he didn’t notice. 

Dean didn’t look on him, eyes pinned to the road “Back to the asylum.” 

Sam’s jaw dropped  “What? Why?” 

“We must get her out, set a trap and kill it.” explained Dean and the speed raised. 

“Dean, you don’t want to use her as a lure, do you?” asured himself Sam although he knew his brother well enough to know the answer. 

“Not a lure...” minute of silence and shragging “A lure then, but for good reasons.” 

“WHAT good reasons?”

“Sam, we need to catch it to kill it. And we won’t catch it because we don’t know who it is. And as a clever Standford boy you must know that it will crawl from its stinky burrow only to kill Y/N. That’s why we need her.” finally Dean’s eyes found Sam’s as he added with half smile “Those are the good reasons.” 

Sam seeing his brother completely cold blooded towards Y/N, hardly breathed “Dean you can’t mean this! The poor girl has been through enough!”

“So what doctor Jekill? You want to leave her in the hospital to rot?” 

“Definetly not to make her face the demon again!” objected Sam loudly. 

Dean shook his head a looked out from the window for a second “The only good way to let go of a fear is facing it. You will never ride a bike after one fall if you won’t keep trying.” 

Sam lost all his arguments and just angrily breathed out. Dean was right. But that didn’t change the fact Y/N is goingt to suffer. 

“You missed one thing Sherlock.” he sounded later. 

Dean frowned. 

“How are we going to get her out? The receptionst saw us both and FBI simply doesn’t have competences to get a patient out os mental hospital,” Sam smiled a bit “Does it?” 

Dean laughed “Well fortunately for you, Watson, I have a plan to get her out.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam still couldn’t believe what they were doing. By “a plan to get her out” Dean meant kidnapping Y/N. 

It took them almost a half an hour to convince each other there’s no other way. Dean wasn’t happy about it either, but Sam kept frowning and heavily brething when Dean got in through the back door in laudry room. 

Sam was supposed to wait there and watch over. 

“Watch over my ass..” he kept muttering and kicking a rock around. 

It was 11.24 p.m. exactly when Dean entered the asylum and they bot agreed on that after 15 minutes Sam will get in too, if necessary. 

Ten minutes of waiting he had to hide quickly before two of guards who came to the yard to smoke. 

After 14 minutes Sam nervously rubbed his hands. 

Come on, Dean, come on..

He turned to face the door and stepped one foot inside when suddenly - “Sam! open!” 

Dean run  from the dark quickly heading to the car as he carried Y/N in his arms, Sam opened the back door for him. 

They both get in when Y/N still asleep didn’t notice she is seeping in Imapala fastly riding away.

“Dean, this is...if we won’t get arrested for this..” whispered Sam looking back at Y/N. She had the same hospital robe and  pale face. 

“Then we must set it done quickly, huh?” 

“Yeah..” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Because they knew they will search for Y/N within a few hours, brothers decided to move to an empty house on the other side of town. If everything goes well, it will all be over next day. And hopefully the police will look for Y/N on the usual places and nearest cities. 

“They will think she escaped, I made sure.” Dean told Sam when they put Y/N on the couch and started to set the room for exorcising. 

Dean sprayed the demon’s trap in every corner and also under the old carpet. Sam prepared the holy water and repeated the exorcising text if he remembers it well. 

All they could do now was wait. 

“Man she sleeps deeply.” noted Dean when they took charges next to the door and the window. Sam scrubbed his head “You’d too if you had so many pills inside.” 

“Yeah it looked like an awesome trip..” chuckled Dean when he remembered how Y/N looked when they first saw her. Her eyes were shaded and she looked like half asleep. 

“What if it won’t come?” asked Sam in that horrible silence. 

“It will.” 

“We are far away from that house where it happened, what if it’s attached to something there?”

Dean scoffed “Like demons are attached to something.” 

Sam just turned away to look out of the window. 

“Sam don’t worry it’ll be fine. It’s just another case..” sighed Dean when he saw his brother so upset. 

There was silence for a while. 

“I just can’t imagine how horrible it must have been.” said Sam quietly after. 

“It got pretty personal to you, didn’t it?” 

Sam shook his head “I just.. I just can relate to...” 

Before he could finnish his sentence, Y/N moved. 

Dean and Sam held breath. 

Y/N slowly moved from side to side and one of her legs landed on the floor. Her hands tried to get the invisible duvet that wasn’t there. She frowned and slowly opened her eyes. She observed the ceiling and frowned even more. Then after a few minutes of this waking up process she sat down and looked around. 

Sam and Dean both faced her. 

“Hey Y/N, don’t worry. You’re not in the asylum  now. We want to help you.” said Dean softly.

Y/N’s face turned from shock to horror and back to shock. Her eyes screamed for help but she didn’t say anything. 

“I’m Sam, this is Dean. We know about your problem and we know you are not insane. Don’t worry we want to help. Really help.” added Sam. He felt so deeply touched when he saw how confused and scared Y/N looks. 

“He..he’ll come for me..” she managed to whisper finally. It looked like it took a lot of strength for her to say something. 

“Don’t worry we won’t let him hurt you.” assured her Dean quickly “We are prepared for him.” 

“I thought it was all a nightmare..” she hid her face her palms. Sam could tell he saw a tear dropping down. 

Dean nodded “It was.. but sometimes.. nightmares are real.” 

Y/N observed his face as if she looked for something hidden. Then her eyes turned to Sam and she gulped hardly “H..he is strong..you can’t... who are you?”

 Before Dean could respond, Sam did “We’re hunters. We kill these things.” 

“Things?” Y/N asked with much clearer voice “What do you mean things? This is man I know it is..” her eyes wandered on the floor as she  seeked for  help. 

“It used to be..” Dean agreed “But now it is possessed.” 

“Ding ding din ding!” clapping hands. 

The Winchesters raised to face the new voice. 

Y/N gasped for breath in pain. 

“Have you ever danced with  the devil in the pale moonlight?” 

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Whiskey Lullaby~

~Chapter 6~

|| Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ||

Image Credit: Me. Pictures not mine obviously, but the collage is.

Rating: NSFW-18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, violence, suggested sexual/physical abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst.

Chapter Warnings: Physical abuse, mentions of potential attempted rape, alcohol abuse...ALL THE ANGST!

A/N: I’m just gonna...leave this here...**runs away** Also, this makes a bit of a jump forward, cause things are really gonna start to pick up now in the action department!

-------------------------------------

“God fucking dammit!”

The prospect ducked as a wrench was sent flying across the small storage unit; nearly missing him. Teagan rolling out from underneath the Chevelle the rest of the way, cradling her head in her hands for a moment before standing up and crossing to the bench on the opposite side of the car. Picking up the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels and taking another long pull before returning it to the same spot.

“M-Maybe you shouldn’t--” Half-Sack immediately closed his mouth as she turned to narrow her gaze at him. Daring him to finish. Setting down his tools awkwardly he gestured back towards the garage.

“I’m just gonna…” He trailed off as he stepped around her carefully. All but nearly sprinting across the lot once he was out of the unit. Teagan pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger as she sucked in a deep breath.

Her temper had been short the past few weeks...ever since the fight with Tig. She was on edge. The stress of her situation -- the not knowing how long until they would find her -- weighing heavily on her more and more every day...and choosing to shut everyone else out for the time being seemed a more logical answer. Not to mention things had gotten a whole lot more complicated for the Club recently.

Between the shit with Donna, and now Bobby behind bars? The last thing they needed was the drama between siblings coming into play and making shit worse. Her self destructive behavior was enough of a hindrance as it was. It was just better if she kept herself out of shit for now...feelings and all.

Not to mention she had been less than a peach to deal with anyways. Keeping herself well fed on a diet of whiskey and nicotine, her fuse was short. Making her pretty well avoidable for the most part. Everyone choosing to stay out of her way; least she decide to unleash her wrath upon them. Even Gemma had been avoiding her for the most part. But Teagan knew in a sense it was more or less to give her space...knowing that when she was ready to talk, she would.

Heaving a irritated sigh as she watched the sky start it’s usual change as evening approached; Teagan grabbed her leather jacket off the bench and threw it on before strutting her way across the lot. The guys watching quietly from the safety of the garage as she climbed on her bike and haul-ass down the street.

“The hells that all about?” Jax questioned as he sauntered into the shop, turning an accusing gaze to the prospect who had retreated to the corner near the office. Half-Sack’s eyes widening as he pointed out the door.

“That is so not my fault!” He defended. “She’s a bottle and a half deep already...she was working on the Chevelle and just like, lost her shit. She nearly took my head off with a wrench!”

“Je’sus Christ...an’ ye let her leave?!” Chibs sighed as he looked at the prospect from across the shop. Half-Sack putting his hands up defensively, fearing he was gonna get something else thrown at him.

“I didn’t even know she had her keys!”

“Well, how ‘bout ye make yer’self useful an’ go find her!” Chibs suggested in a menacing tone as he pointed out the door of the garage. Half-Sack about to leave when Tig spoke up.

“Unless you wanna clean up what’s left of the Prospect when she’s done ripping him to shreds--? That’d be the last fuckin’ thing I’d suggest.” He stated, narrowing his gaze at the Scot before returning his attention back to the bike he’d been working on. “She’ll be fine.”

“Aye…” Chibs mused sarcastically as he rounded on his fellow brother. “So tha’s it then? Ye’re jus’ gonna let her go off like tha? Get herself killed, or worse?!”

“It’s not your problem man!” Tig shot back with an accusing finger pointed at the Scot. “So why don’t you just drop it?”

“Enough.” Jax stepped in before things continued to escalate. “I’m not gonna pretend to know what’s goin’ here...but really? Work your fuckin’ shit out move on! Teagan’s a big girl, and those of us who know her; know she can take care of herself. Maybe not in ways any of us approve of...but it is what it is.

“Besides, we’ve got bigger fuckin’ fish to fry right now with gettin’ Bobby out of prison. So figure it the fuck out!”

Chibs and Tig exchanged a final glance before giving a nod of agreement. Things had been tense recently with the blow back from the hit they pulled off for Hayes in exchange for a shipment of guns. Leaving them to track down the witness and take care of the issue to free their own man. But between having the ATF up their ass, and now Teagan’s history the streets of Charming again; it hadn’t been easy.

“We good?” Jax added, seemingly pleased as they gave a mutual, and very unenthused, ‘Yeah’. “Good...Church in an hour. Wrap it up.”

~

It was barely after 10pm when Teagan was sent hurtling out the backdoor of a local bar downtown. Crashing into the trash cans as the owner pointed a finger at her, gaze narrowed as he seethed his final warning too her.

“Step foot in my bar again, and I’ll make sure you get carted off back to where ever in the hell you came from! That clear enough for you?!” The door slammed shut behind him, the bottle in Teagan’s hand smashing against it a few seconds to late as she pushed herself to her feet.

“Asshole!” She slurred angrily, nearly falling back into the pile of garbage as she tripped over herself; staggering towards the exit at the end of the alley. Paying no mind as she attempted to make her way back to where ever in the hell she had parked her bike. Rolling her eyes in response to the catcall that sounded off from somewhere behind her down the street. She also ignored the whistle that followed it a few seconds later.

“Hey!” The voice hollered, closer as they approached her from behind. Teagan coming to a stop as she turned, glaring at the four men as they crossed the street. “Don’t you know how to take a compliment, Sweetheart?”

“Didn’t yeer mothers evver t-teeaach youu it’s’naw nnice ta harrass womenn oon the sstreet.” She snapped back in an angry slur of words. The tallest of the group smirked as he stepped closer; Teagan’s hand reaching for the Colt 1911 she usually kept tucked in the back of her jeans. Mentally cursing herself when she realized it was in the saddle bag of her bike.

“Well, well, well...looky what we’ve got here boys. Guess the rumors goin’ round seem to be true afterall. Looks like our little Raven has come home to roost after all.”

Teagan’s heart nearly leapt into her throat as she took a step back. The man stepping forward and into the light of a nearby street lamp; her eyes widening as recognized him. Just as he recognized her.

“No…” She grit out between clenched teeth as he expression hardened. Turning to storm away, only to be stopped by two more men who  had approached out of nowhere. Boxing her in like a pack of wolves circling their prey.

“Oh wait, that’s right...you fancy yourself one of them Crow Eaters now, right?”

“Go fuck yourself, Bradley .” She spat, turning as she tried to push her way between the two men behind her. Squirming as the snatched her up by either arm and drug her forward. Bradley snatching her by the jaw roughly as he pulled her close; face dangerously close to her own as he smirked.

“C’mon now Rave, I thought we were better friends than that.” He purred, making her stomach churn as the urge to vomit swept washed over her. “Besides...I’m sure Darby would be ecstatic to know you’re back.”

Teagan didn’t give any more response other than spitting in his face; the action causing him to release her. Her fist collided with his stomach, knocking the air out of him and giving her the chance to take off. Though she didn’t make if far before a hand grabbed the back of her jacket, pulling her to the ground; hard.

A ringing filled her ears as he head collided with the concrete of the sidewalk. The sounds of muffled laughter surrounding her as Bradley and his men surrounded her. All the air soon being knocked from her lungs as a foot collided with her stomach in retaliation; followed by another to her back...and another...and another.

She was nearly unconscious when they finally hauled her to her feet. Bradley’s vice like grip crushing her jaw again as she tried not to choke on the blood that pooled in her mouth. Forcing herself to keep her eyes open as unconsciousness threatened to pull her under. A small whimper leaving her lips as Bradley pulled her closer. Her eyes squeezing shut tightly as his lips brushed against her ear.

“I think it’s time we go pay Darby a lil visit.”

~

“You think we should go out an’ look for her?” Juice asked before polishing off the rest of his beer. Setting the empty bottle down on the picnic table they sat around. Chibs heaved a sigh as he check the time on his phone. It was well after 2am, and Teagan had yet to return; which was unusual.

She may have been a drunk, but she was always punctual when it came to returning to the Clubhouse for the night. Always after Midnight, but never any later than 1am. It didn’t matter how drunk she was, she got there somehow and hadn’t been late once. Not until now, at least...and Chibs wasn’t the only one who was concerned.

“Maybe she got picked up?” Hap rasped as he finished the last of his cigarette. Stamping it out with the toe of his boot as he stared out at the gate. Brows furrowed as he turned to stare at Chibs; who’s own expression had settled into one of unease as he waited. But he shook his head in response to the Tacoma Killer’s question.

“Nah...Hale or Unser woulda brough’ her back by now.” Chibs replied as he pushed himself to his feet. Stretching a little before starting across the lot for his bike. Juice jogging up beside him and falling into stride.

“What’re you gonna do?” He asked, curiously. Ready to help in any way he could.

“I’m gonna make sure the Lass ain’t dead in’a gutter somewhere...since obviously her brother isn’t worried.” He ground out with an irritated tone. Climbing onto his bike and grabbing his helmet. Juice and Hap about to follow suit when an old pile of shit car came screeching up on the lot. The guys reaching for their guns and taking cover as they, readied themselves for a fight as the rear door flew open.

But there was never any gun fire. Only the sound of the door slamming shut and the car screeching as it reversed out onto the street and sped off. Chibs was the first to poke his head over the bike to peer out over the lot; his heart nearly stopping in his chest as he watched the form on the ground struggled to get up. Her dark mess of curls a dead giveaway, even in the darkness.

Chibs was on his feet and across the lot in a flash. Juice and Hap following suit as they tailed after him, watching as the Scot dropped to his knees beside her; a pained moaned slipping passed her lips as he turned her bloodied face toward him gently. A new found rage coursed through his veins like fire as he carefully inspected the damage.

She looked like she’d been hit by a bloody freight train. Her hands and feet were still bound with duct tape and her tank top was torn nearly all the way open, revealing the darkening bruises on rib cage and stomach. His eyes darkening with fury as he spotted the purple fingerprints that were etched into the skin of her throat and jaw. Another whimper leaving her lips as he pushed her hair back, revealing the bloodied knot where she’d taken a blow of some sort to the head.

“Easy there Lass...stay wit’ me.” He soothed gently; shifting to pull the knife from his belt as he cut her hands and feet loose before scooping her up and cradling her in his arms gently as he started for the Clubhouse.

“Call Tara.”

~

Teagan winced as Tara swept the light in front of her eyes again, ordering her to follow it before handing her a solution to rinse her mouth out with. Helping her guide it to her mouth as he hands shook too much to hold it steady. Giving stiff nod of thanks as Tara returned to cleaning the blood away from her face the best she could; tending to the cuts and scrapes that covered her face and hands carefully with an alcohol swab before moving to prod at her ribs.

“Sorry.” Tara apologized with a sympathetic smile.

“It’s alright…” Teagan rasped as she adjusted the blanket that was draped around her shoulders.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Tara pressed lightly as she sat in front of her, moving to bandage her left hand carefully. Teagan simply shook her head and looked away. “Teag…?”

“They didn’t get the chance to rape me if that’s what you’re asking.” She snapped, green eyes blazing with anger as she forced herself to focus on the woman in front of her who nodding carefully. “Darby’s stupid...but he isn’t this stupid.”

“Darby did this?!” Tig’s voice demanded as he barged into the room, Chibs tailing close behind muttering what could only be profanities in Gaelic; about to apologize when both men stopped. Catching a closer look at the damage that had been done before Teagan pulled the blanket closed.

“I’m gonna kill him!” Tig yelled as he turned to leave the room, stopped by the hand that Chibs planted in the middle of his chest. Tig ready to throw a punch when her voice stopped him.

“No...not Darby.” She snapped, her voice hoarse and broken. “Christ Tig, he’s not an idiot.”

“Than who?!” Tig demanded impatiently.

“Jesus, Tig…” She gave an exasperated sigh. “Bradley...it was fuckin’ Bradley.”

“He’s a deadman when I--”

“Stop!”

The whole room fell silent as she shouted, her eyes filled with anger and tears as he stared at her brother. Clutching her ribs as she stood to face him. Tig’s expression softening as he watched her.

“It’s too fucking late to play hero, Tig.” Her voice waived as she drew in a shallow breath. “He knows I’m here…”

“O..k…” Tara butted in, giving Teagan a shoulder to lean on as she swayed slightly. “She needs rest. This will have to wait.”

She motioned for Chibs to take her as she turned back to dig through her medical bag, pulling out a bottle of Vicodin and tossing it to him. Chibs tucking it inside the pocket of his Kutte before wrapping a careful arm around Teagan’s shoulder and guiding her out of the room and down the hall to her room. Making it halfway to her bed before she stopped him and pointed towards the bathroom.

“I need to shower.” She started quietly when he looked down at her with a questioning gaze. Nodding in understanding before helping her into the bathroom and sitting her down gently on the toilet seat. Turning to reach in and turn the water onto the shower before returning and kneeling to unlace her boots; removing them carefully as she braced her hands against her shoulders to keep herself upright.

“Sorry, love.” He apologized softly when she winced. His warm brown eyes filled with concern as he stared up at her. “I’ll wait fer ye jus’ outside?” Teagan nodded stiffly but stayed silent as Chibs helped her stand; pulling a clean towel out of the cabinet and placing it on the edge of the sink before stepping out give her some privacy.

Half an hour passed before the water finally shut off and he heard her step out. Waiting patiently on the edge of her bed; ice pack and painkillers in hand as she shuffled stiffly to the door frame, still wrapped in a towel as she leaned against it for support as he stood and crossed the room. Guiding her carefully to the bed and sitting her down as he picked up the Vicodin, about to open it when she stopped him. Her hand on top of his.

“Don’ be ridiculous love...it’ll help.”

“I can’t.” She stated quietly with a shake of her head. Chibs studied her carefully for a moment before realizing what she meant. Nodding as he stood and disappearing into the bathroom, returning a few seconds with three Advil and glass of water. Teagan knocking them back before setting the glass carefully on the table beside her bed.

“Thank you.”

“Aye. I’m here if ye need anythin’ love.” He gave a soft smile before turning to leave the room, stopping when he felt her hand grab his gently.

“Please don’t leave me.” Teagan whispered quietly. Green eyes pleading as she gazed up at him, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

“Of course Lass.” He quirked a small smile as he moved to close the door and turn off the overhead light; leaving the lamp next to the bed on as he sat and stripped off his leather jacket and Kutte. Tossing them over the back of a chair before tugging his shirt off and tossing it on the bed and bending to unlace his boots to kick them off. A grin quirked at the edge of his lips as he stood and looked, hands pausing on his belt buckle as he took notice that Teagan had replaced the towel with his shirt.

Moving around the edge of the bed he helped her turn down the sheets; propping the pillows before easing her back onto them and settling the ice pack against her ribs before returning to the opposite side the bed where he finished stripping down to his boxers before climbing beneath the covers and nestling Teagan carefully into his side. The room falling silent as he closed his eyes.

“Where are you from?”

The question caught him by surprise as he opened his eyes, a soft chuckle rumbling through his chest as he looked down. Her green gaze watched him carefully as she waited for an answer. Chibs adjusting the pillow behind him as he sat up a little.

“I was born in Glasgow.” He stated. “But I grew up in Belfast.”

“Belfast…” Teagan repeated softly as she closed her eyes. “Is it nice?”

“Aye.” He smiled, fingers stroking her hair softly. “The countryside where I grew up...it’s verra beautiful. All rollin’ green hills and little farms.”

“Are there fuzzy cows?” She mumbled curiously.

“Ye mean highland cows?” Chibs chuckled lightly. She nodded against his chest in response, her eyes closed as he looked down at her. “Yes, Lass, there’s fuzzy cows.” He sighed softly.

“An’ cliffs over lookin’ the sea...rains a’lot but ‘es nah so bad all the time. ‘Specially in the Springtime when ‘es evening and it’s quiet out.”

“That sounds really nice.” She hummed, the sound of his voice soothing. “An’ safe.”

“Aye, it is.”

“I think I’d like to go there someday.” Teagan stated softly against his chest as he pulled her closer. Resting his chin atop her head gently as he closed his own eyes again. A soft sigh leaving his lips.

“Perhaps I’ll take ye there someday.”

------------------------------------------

If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

TAGLIST: @jacksonroth @penny4yourthot @stacie-marie-bloom @journeyrose @cole-winchester

[bamby0304]

The Hart II: Highway

Summary: Off on her own, without the Winchesters, Bobby, Ellen or Jo, Lizzie tries to get back to what she does best… hunting. But time is running out, Dean’s soul is on the line, and now everyone knows Lizzie is psychic like Sam. Can the brothers and Lizzie work through their problems? Or will they lose everything?

Bamby’s Masterlist

The Hart Masterlist

The Hart II: Highway Masterlist

Part Twenty-Nine: An Eye for an Eye

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Medical stuff. Implied death.

Bamby

DPOV

Sitting in Rufus' office, the bottle now three quarters empty, I looked down at the glass in my hand, admiring the dark liquid. It really was good stuff.

"Bottoms up." I lifted my glass just as he did, clicking them together.

After we both took a drink, Rufus lowered his glass and looked to me. "You know, I don't even bother drinking unless it's this stuff. Nectar of the Gods, I'm telling you."

"Yeah, it's a nice change, you know." I grinned. "Most of my whiskey comes from a plastic jug." We both laughed. "So, Bela was here because...?"

"She wanted to buy a couple of things, which is gonna take me some time to round up."

"Where is she now?"

He watched me closely. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I shrugged. Anything to get the answers I needed.

"You got three weeks left. Why are you wasting your time chasing after that skinny, stuck-up English girl?"

The fact he knew about my situation, had me suspicious. "How do you know about that?"

Leaning forward, he gave a cocky smirk. "Because I know things. I know a lot of things about a lot of people."

"Is that so?"

"I know ain't no peashooter gonna save you."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Cause that's the job, kid. Even if you manage to scrape out of this one, there's just gonna be something else down the road. Folks like us... there ain't no happy ending. We all got it coming."

"Well, ain't you a bucket of sunshine?"

"I'm what you've got to look forward to if you survive." Smirking once more, he raised his glass again. "But you won't."

Not liking where the conversation had turned, I steered it back on track. "So, Bela..."

He didn't even hesitate before giving me what I wanted. "Hotel Canaan. Room 39. But watch your back."

"I think I can handle Bela."

"Oh, don't be so sure about that. There are things that you don't know about her."

"Oh, and you do? Right. Because you know things."

"Yep.

"And let me guess... you lift her fingerprint?"

"Yep."

"And that got you jack."

"Yep. She burnt them off. Probably years ago."

"Yeah, so you're right where we are."

"Nope." I waited a moment before he went on. "You do her ear?"

"Sorry?" Surely, I hadn't heard that right...

"You do her ear?"

Apparently, I did hear him right... "Hey, man, I'll try anything once, but I don't know. That sounds uncomfortable."

"Ears are as unique to humans as fingerprints."

"No kidding." I'm calling bull. Though Liz and Sam would probably know if he was full of shit.

"Of course, that don't fly in the courts over here, but in England, they're all over it. A friend of a friend... of a friend faxed me ten pages of confidential files within a day. All I had to send him was one clean shot off the security camera."

"Right. One clean shot of her ear." I nodded, downing the rest of my drink. This guy was nuts. I was wasting my time. He gave me Bela's address, I should just leave.

Reaching over to a nearby desk, Rufus grabbed a folder and handed it over to me. "The so-called Bela Talbot."

SPOV

Torch in hand, both Lizzie and I entered the dark and abandoned cabin. We began looking around for anything that might let us know we were in the right place. Looking at the books on the shelves- where I found and pocketed a journal- and searching every space where there could be something that might help us.

Starting down some stairs, we headed into the cellar.

The body of a man was lying on an operating table just a few feet in front of us. A sheet had been thrown over him, but Lizzie and I both knew what would be underneath the cover. Looking around a little more, we spotted another body through some ragged curtains. Inching closer, we weren't sure what we would find on the other side...

It was a woman, strapped down to another operating table. Her arm was stretched out beside her and covered in maggots where she was missing a large amount of skin.

As I reached forward to check her pulse, she gasped and her eyes shot open the moment I touched her.

"Shh! Shh! Shh!" I lifted my finger to my mouth, gesturing for her to be quiet. "It's okay. We're here to help you. We're here to help you. We're gonna help you."

"Here." Lizzie moved to grab a cloth and handed it to me.

Still shushing the woman, I grabbed her wounded arm and wrapped the blanket around it as gently and carefully as possible. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Okay-"

The sound of a door opening upstairs had us all freeze.

Unable to help herself, the woman started crying. I reached over to cover her mouth, needing her to be quiet. But it was too late, the footsteps were already headed our way.

Lizzie grabbed my arm and gestured to a window.

We knew we couldn't break it without drawing more attention to our whereabouts... but, turns out, we had a way to get around that.

As I lifted the woman into my arms, Lizzie stepped up to the window and carefully used her mind to pry the glass open, with minimal noise. She climbed up and out before reaching for the woman. The two of us worked on getting her out safely. Once she was set on the grass outside, I climbed out as fast as I could, before I grabbed the woman and dashed off, knowing Lizzie was right by my side.

EPOV

Carrying the woman bridal style, Sam was just a step behind me as we ran for the car.

I pulled out the keys and unlocked the car seconds before we reached it. Opening the back door for them, I then got in the front and started the engine as Sam and the woman slide into the back.

"Lizzie, lets-" Sam was cut off as the glass of my window was smashed.

A hand reached in, grabbing and pulling on my hair as Benton tried to pry me out of the vehicle. As I struggled against him, he shoved me forward, hitting my head on the steering wheel with a surprising force.

"Lizzie!"

As Benton continued his assault, I managed to grab the gear stick and slam my foot on the accelerator, jolting the car into reverse suddenly.

The woman was screaming as Benton changed his grip so he was holding the car before the force made him spin around until he was on the hood. But he didn't stay there for long, his hold faultering, sending him to the dirt road.

With the headlights shinning on the monster, I got a good look at him. He glared at me for a single moment before I put the car into gear and floored it, driving straight over Benton. I didn't even look back as I got us the hell out of there.

DPOV

The moment Bela walked into her room and closed the door, I was on her, turning her around and shoving her against the wall. Laying an arm over her chest and aiming my gun at her face, I got straight to it.

"Where's the Colt?"

"Dean." She was as calm as ever.

"No extra words."

"It's long gone, across the world by now."

"You're lying." I grabbed her bag from her hand and began to look through it.

"I'll call the buyer. Speak Farsi?"

Finding nothing in her bag, I dropped it and grabbed her instead. My arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against me.

"What the hell are you-"

As I quickly frisked her, I found a gun which I then held out in front of her. "Don't flatter yourself." Using the point of my gun, I reached over to flick on the room's lights before aiming it at her again. "Don't move." With that warning, I began to search the room.

"I told you I don't have it," she insisted.

"Oh, yeah, I'm definitely gonna take your word for it." Turning my back on her, I started for some other drawers.

The room had fallen too silent. Turning around, I spotted her reaching for the door.

Raising my gun, I pulled the trigger, missing her- on purpose- by mere inches. "Don't move," I warned again before I continued searching.

"It's gone. Get on a plane if you must. Track down the buyer. You might catch up to him eventually."

Having searched the whole place, I moved back to her, pointing my gun at her head, wanting nothing more than to pull the trigger again. Only this time, I wouldn't miss.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Oh, yeah." My smirk was one of anger and frustration.

"You're not the cold-blooded type."

"You mean like you? That's true. See, I couldn't imagine killing my parents."

She was shocked, but tried to play it cool. "I don't know what you're talking-"

I cut her off, "Yes, you do. You were, what, fourteen? Folks died in some shady car accident. Police suspected a slashed brake line, but it was all too crispy to tell. Cut to little Bela... oh, I'm sorry… Abby, inheriting millions."

"How did you even-"

"Doesn't matter."

"They were lovely people. And I killed them. And I got rich. I can't be bothered to give a damn. Just like I don't care what happens to you."

Her words pushed me over the line. I pushed her against the door roughly, pressing my arm against her throat. "You make me sick."

"Likewise."

Taking a step back, I aimed the gun at her again, smirking as I got ready to shoot. She stared back for a moment before closing her eyes. That's when I spotted something I hadn't before. Looking up at the top frame of the door, I noticed some herbs hanging over the ledge. But not just any herbs. Devil's shoestring.

As she opened her eyes again, I lowered my gun, shaking my head at her. "You're not worth it." Grabbing her shoulder, I dragged her away from the door before leaving.

SPOV

I sat at the desk in our hotel room, picking up my phone as it rang. "Dean."

"Yeah."

"Did you get the Colt?"

"What do you think?" He was clearly pissed.

Which was why I wasn't going to tell him that not only had Lizzie used her abilities tonight, but also had a cut on her head from the amount of times Benton hit her head against the steering wheel. It had been hurting when we got back, so she'd taken some pain killers and crashed on Dean's bed, and hadn't moved since.

I sighed, "So, does that mean Bela is-"

"No, no, she deserves to die a dozen times over, but I couldn't do it."

"Dean..."

"I'm really screwed, Sammy."

"No, you're just-"

"But you were right. Bela was a goose chase. The Colt's gone, and this time I'm really screwed, Sam."

"Maybe not. Look, Dean, we found Benton's cabin."

"You two okay? Was he there?"

"Yeah."

"Did you kill him?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"Dean, please just listen for a second. I found his lab book, and it has the formula."

"What, the live-forever formula?"

"Yeah."

"Great, let me guess. I got to drink blood out of a baby's skull?"

"No, that's the thing." I flicked through said book as I explained it to him. "It's not black magic. There's no blood sacrifice or anything. It's just science, Dean. Very, very extremely weird science, but-"

He cut me off again, "Wait, wait, wait. What are...what are you saying? You think..."

"Dean, I think it might be doable. I mean, I know we've hit a lot of walls, but I... I think this formula, I think it might be it. This could save you."

"Okay, so, this formula..."

"Well, I mean, look, look, we're not in the clear yet. There are still things that I don't get-"

An arm reached around from behind me, shoving a cloth over my mouth. I dropped the phone and struggled as best as I could, but the hold was strong, and before I knew it I was out cold.

...

I was tied to a chair in Benton's basement, facing an operating table where Lizzie was bound, her eyes taped open.

Benton stepped up to her, speaking in a calm voice. "You can relax. It's all gonna be okay. Ain't nothing gonna happen here that you got to worry about. Your chances of coming out of this procedure alive? Very, very high." He nodded as she whimpered.

I struggled against my binds. "Don't touch her."

"Don't worry, Sammy. She should be fine," Benton insisted.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, struggling against my tight binds.

"Oh... I know. You think I'm some kind of monster, don't you? Well, I got to tell you, I have never done one thing that I did not have to do. This whole eternal-life thing is very high-maintenance. If something goes bad, like my eyes here, you got to replace them. And sometimes things get damaged, like when your father cut out my heart. Now, that... that was very inconvenient."

He moved over to one of the benches, grabbing dad's journal. "So, I'm sure that you can understand all the joy I felt when I read all about myself here in his journal." Shutting the journal, he then grabbed some kind of tool that looked like a melon baller... "Kind of makes this whole thing just feel like some kind of family reunion, don't it? Well, I guess it's about time that we get this thing started."

I had to watch as he moved, reaching down to scoop Lizzie's eye out.

Three shots rang out, stopping Benton as he looked down at the three wounds in his chest before turning to see Dean standing behind the tattered curtain.

"Shoot all you want." He started for Dean.

Dean let more bullets loose as he backed away from the doctor as much as he could. That was until Benton reached him, and threw him across the room. Walking over to my brother, Benton then leaned down over him, so confident in his actions. Even when Dean stabbed him in the chest with a knife.

Benton laughed. "A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand?" He stood, pulling the knife out. "Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one."

"Good. It should be pumping nice and strong." Dean held up a bottle of chloroform. "Sending this stuff throughout your whole body. See, I picked up your little bottle upstairs and dipped the knife in it."

Benton only had a few more seconds of consciousness before he collapsed on the ground, knocked out cold.

EPOV

I stood next to Dean as he held his arm around me, the two of us and Sam looking down at Benton where we'd tied him on the table I'd been tied to.

"Oh, hiya, Doc. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bac-y."

At the sound of Dean's voice, Benton began to wake. "Please."

Dean shook his head. "Please what? You've been killing poor bastards for over a hundred and fifty years and now you got a request? Shut up."

"No, you don't understand. I can help you," Benton insisted. "I know what you need."

Dean ignored the doctor, looking over at Sam on the other side of the table. "We might have to cut him up into little bits. You know, this immortality thing is a bitch."

"I can read the formula for you," Benton offered. "You know, immortality. Forever young, never die."

Sam stepped forward. "Dean…"

Dean sighed, looking up at his brother again. "Sam."

The look on both of their faces told me what each of them were thinking. Sam wanted to save Dean. But Dean wanted to save everyone else.

Seeing as the only way to decide what we were going to do was to talk, I grabbed Dean's hand and nodded for the brothers to follow me. We walked to the other side of the curtain and then came to a stop, speaking in hushed tones.

"What?" Dean looked to Sam expectantly.

"I mean, we're talking hell in three weeks. Or needing a new pancreas in like half a century."

"Yeah, well, you can't exactly get those at a Kwik-E-Mart," Dean noted.

But Sam was determined to do this. "It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better. We just need time, Dean. I mean, please, just... just think about it."

I shook my head. "No."

Sam turned to me, surprised. "I thought-"

"So did I," I admitted, knowing where he was going. "I was getting so desperate, and so willing to do whatever it takes, that I'd actually been thinking about making my own deal so the two of you could stay together. But it's not our choice Sam. If Dean wants to live, it has to be his choice."

"He does want to live."

"Not like this." Dean gestured to Benton. "What he is isn't living. Look, this is simple-"

"Simple?" Sam clearly didn't agree.

"To me it is, okay." Dean went on, "Black or white. Human, not human." He grabbed my hand and walked us back to the room with Benton. "See, what the Doc is... he's a freakin' monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell." He let go of my hand and grabbed the bottle of chloroform.

"You don't understand. I can help you!" Benton insisted.

Dean ignored him again, pressing the chloroform rag over the doctor's mouth as he looked up at his brother. "Now, we're gonna take care of him." He gestured to me and himself. "You can either help us or not. It's up to you."

...

Standing over the open grave, I watched as Benton tried to push the door of the fridge open. The fridge he was in, which we'd chained closed and put in the grave, along with his journal.

"No! No! Don't! Stop it! I can help you! No!"

"Enjoy forever in there, Doc." Dean nodded as he grabbed one of the shovels off the ground and began to shovel dirt into the hole.

Sam and I grabbed a shovel each as well, helping him as Benton continued to yell and scream.

"Let me out! I can save you! No. Don't."

DPOV

Driving along the road, phone to my ear, I waited until the person on the other end answered. The moment they did, I spoke.

"Hiya, Bela. Here's a fun fact you may not know. I felt your hand in my pocket, when you swiped that motel receipt."

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I understand perfectly. See, I noticed something interesting in your hotel room. Something tucked above the door. An herb. Devil's shoestring? There's only one use for that. Holding hellhounds at bay. So, you know what I did, I went back and I took another look at your folks' obit. Turns out they died ten years ago today. You didn't kill them. A demon did your dirty work. You made a deal, didn't you, Bela. And it's come due. Is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal, our gun for your soul?"

"Yes."

"But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing."

"They changed the deal. They wanted me to kill Sam."

"Really! Wow, demons untrustworthy. Shocker. That's, uh, kind of a tight deadline too. What time is it?" I asked just as Sam showed me the time on his phone from where he sat next to me. "Well, look at that, almost midnight."

"Dean, listen, I need help," Bela cried.

"Sweetheart, we are weeks past help."

"I know I don't deserve it."

"You know what, you're right, you don't. But you know what the bitch of the bunch is? If you would have just come to us sooner and asked for help we probably could have taken the Colt and saved you."

"I know, and saved yourself. I know about your deal, Dean."

"And who told you that?"

"The Demon that holds it. She holds mine too. She said she holds every deal."

"She?"

"Her name's Lilith."

I paused, looking over at Sam for a moment. "Lilith?" That got both his and Liz's attention. "Why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't but it's the truth."

"This can't help you, Bela, not now. Why you telling me this?"

"Because just maybe you can kill the bitch."

Tensing my jaw, I sighed. "I'll see you in hell." With that, I hung up seconds before the clocked struck twelve.

Bamby

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 50 - Xanadu, Donna Summer and Dave Gahan in leather pants (Part Three)

In the previous chapter: Eddie is fascinated by Angie at the club, he dances with her and almost kisses her, but he's interrupted by Mike Starr, who wants to dance with the girl. Jerry gets mad at the bassist for taking liberties with Angie, their bandmates try to calm him down and Starr tells him he's not into her and only does it to tease him a little. Jerry then has a clarifying talk with Eddie, who admits his interest towards Angie, and the two of them agree to go for a sort of truce and avoid talking about her at all. The guys who lost the bet perform as the Village People and the crowd loves it. The morning after, Angie and Eddie are together on the beach, talking and joking, Eddie finds out Angie's friend will arrive in the afternoon and he's a little sad about it because he'd want some more time alone with her. They meet Mitch, alias Michelle, Eddie's old friend and Beth's neighbor, and Angie's almost intimidated by her beauty. Mitch asks him if he wants to surf some more with her but Vedder prefers to stay with Angie.

**

“Ok, I'm going then”

“Yes, Eddie... for the third time, you can go, don't worry. I promise you we won't burn your house down” Angie's sitting beside me on the sofa and rolls her eyes before turning to look at the guy who's standing on the doorway.

“Haha no, it's not for that. It's just... well, I'm sorry I have to leave you two alone...” it's nice of him to include me too, although at least two thirds of this room know exactly who he's more sorry for.

“No problem, Angie and I haven't seen each other since Christmas, we've got a lot of things to tell each other. It's gonna take me a minute but as you know our friend here needs a little encouragement, so we'll probably go pretty late until the evening” I already know I'll have to torture this bitch to have her tell me something. After I saw her at Christmas, and considering our phone calls since then, I was expecting to see the usual grieving and inconsolable Angie I'd have to cheer up. Yet I see she cheered herself up with no one's help this time. Well, no one...

“Right, you probably want to have some alone time too. Well, gotta go now” yes Eddie, thank you really, you're sweet, but I need to be alone with my best friend to talk and gossip about everyone and everything. And about you as well.

“Just go do your soundcheck, Eddie, we'll be alright” Angie repeats as she's covering the chocolate cake she baked with a napkin, well, what's left of it after our attack. Is she already putting it away?

“I already called Craig anyway”

“You trust us so much!”

“He'll come by at eight to pick you up. Or to lead you to Winter's, it depends if you wanna take Dina's car or not”

“Yes, please, let's take my car, so I can go back to L.A. right after”

“But only if you feel like driving, if you don't I told you, you can crash here at my place, it's ok”

“Thank you, Eddie, I'll see how the night goes. If I'm tired I'll gladly accept your invitation” I hope I won't have to accept it, I love Eddie's hospitality, but I've got the feeling I'd be a bit in the way”

“My friends are throwing some kind of party on the beach after the show, I think you'll take my offer”

“You didn't tell me” Angie remarks clearly surprised.

“Oh. Well, surprise!” Eddie briefly sets foot back in the living room, holding out his arms and showing a wide smile.

“It's not as surprise anymore” she scowls.

“When Craig and the guys are involved, everything's a surprise. Alright, gotta go now”

“Eddie, go away” Angie jokes throwing a pillow at him.

“See you later at the club”

“See ya. And thank you for the tour. And for cotton candy!” fuck it was good.

“You're welcome. It's a must after rollercoaster rides. See you tonight girls”

As soon as Eddie leaves and closes the door behind himself, Angie stands up and unfortunately takes away the dish with the cake.

“I'm exhausted, I guess I'll take a nap until tonight” my friend stretches her arms as she walks back to the couch and then just plops down yawning. I don't think so.

“You didn't tell me you've got a new puppy”

“A puppy?” she looks at me suspiciously.

“Yeah”

“What do you mean, I don't have dogs in Seattle” she really doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about, it's almost like I can see the wheels spinning in her head trying to figure out where I'm getting at.

“I don't mean dogs, it's another animal species...”

“Huh?”

“This one wags its tail too, and fawns on you of course, but it's a different kind of beast...”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Come on, the one waking on two legs... who obey his princess' commands, all doe-eyed, and holds your hand on the scary rides at the carnival”

“You're not normal” she shakes her head not looking at me.

“I'm talking about the pup who's just left through that door”

“Yeah, at this point I got it, thank you”

“How come you didn't tell me?”

“Sure I told you! I also invited you over here to see his show”

“You told me it was a friend, not a... friend”

“I don't get it”

“You didn't tell me it was your friend” this time I add some eyebrows wiggle.

“I still don't get it”

“A friend” I repeat blatantly winking.

“Sure he's a friend, so what? I don't understand”

“Fuck you Angie, you understand me so well: FRIEND!” I insist air quoting myself.

“He's a friend, without those... things!” she mimics my air quoting.

“Why? Don't you like him? He's not a bad specimen at all”

“Would you stop talking about Eddie as if he was a piece of cattle?” she scolds me, surely I cut her to the quick.

“Sorry. A nice young colt?”

“Dina!”

“Ok, whatever. Why don't you him?”

“I didn't say that”

“You do like him then!”

“I didn't say that either”

“Yeah, sure, like I needed you to say anything at all. I already know”

“Great, you know everything already, so let's talk about something else” Angie crosses her legs on the couch and frowns, a clear signal for me to let go.

“Right. Let's talk about Sean: did the Merman send pictures to you too?”

“You mean the ones with the seaweed jacket or those where he imitates the faces of mantas before throwing them back into the water?” the frown turns into her usual grin.

“Don't tell me he didn't send you the ones with him wearing a bikini?!”

“Sure he did, I only decided to remove them permanently from my memory. Thank you for reminding me”

“That jerk is having the time of his life. In spite of us”

“He has to balance and compensate for the other jerk, who's now become a serious person” Angie laughs as she mentions the astounding transformation of Richard the misfit.

“He didn't even get drunk at Christmas, almost scary”

“He didn't even go around throwing stones at people's decorations”

“He didn't even go to the shopping center to tell children queuing up to meet Santa that he was an imposter”

“Eeeeeh love changed him” she puts her hand on her heart and blinks dreamily, thinking she's funny. As if she hadn't batted those Maybelline lashes at Eddie the exact same way until five minutes ago.

“Why are you still the same then?”

“You're still the same pain in the ass too, still single?”

“Yeah but it's a choice. I mean, I've just started college, I want to look around first. Especially now that I have more options” I had one girlfriend in eighteen years, well, one and a half, I've got to make up for wasted time, ok?

“The analogy with cattle market goes on”

“Hey, it's true! You can't compare Boise's with Los Angeles' population, it's the law of large numbers. And then, you know, girls, but also guys... I mean, students are all far away from home, in a larger more open minded context, they're more open to cultural stimulus and less inhibited by provincialism and its prejudices” in Boise it's easier to find a hit man rather than a lesbian, not because there are no lesbians, but because they're well hidden.

“Do you mean gay people come out more easily?”

“And bisexual. And also just curious people. And who am I to deny help in satisfying someone's curiosity?”

“No special girl though”

“I'm not in a hurry, my dear. But you seem to be on the right track”

“Ok, let's see what's on tv”

**

“We're up in fifteen minutes, where the fuck were you?” a guy with long brown hair partially tied up in a small pony tail on top of his head walks up to us with a threatening attitude as soon as we get backstage.

“Thank you for your warm welcome, Stone. This is my friend Dina. Dee, this is Stone Gossard, he plays guitar and, yes, that's his real name” Angie literally jumps between me and the guy with the guitar.

“Nice to meet you. Anyway it's not our fault, those guys didn't want to let us in” I point at the security guys.

“Weren't you with them? I'm gonna tell them off. I warned them!” the knight in a shiny armor called Eddie addresses his friend who led us here, then storms away to tell something to the security people.

“Oh well, we're here now, who cares!” I try to defuse tension, which seems to be palpable given the faces of the other musicians and I don't know if it's actually because we're late, because of the emotions for the imminent show or because the apparent leader of the band is angry.

“I stopped at the to talk to Diego for a minute and told the girls to go, I didn't think they'd be rebuffed” Craig justifies himself with no one really, not with Eddie who disappeared somewhere.

“Come on, nothing bad happened. And sorry for the rough welcome, I'm Jeff” a big guy with gentle eyes and a weird hat holds out his hand for me to shake it and remembering the conversations with Angie I recognize him as Eddie's roommate in Seattle. One by one the other band members and roadies and the singer of Alice in Chains introduce themselves, I immediately recognize Layne 'cause I saw him in a couple of videos.

“Anyway Angie and her beautiful friend are to blame too, they held me hostage at Eddie's place giving me cake. I couldn't say no to these sweet ladies” Craig goes on and puts a suspicious arm around my shoulders.

“And where's this cake? You didn't even bring us one slice?” Mike, the guitarist, whines “I bet it was a chocolate cake”

“Actually, it was” I admit basically breaking his heart.

“I guess everybody ate my cake, huh?” Eddie appears behind our back, exactly behind Angie's ear, with a beer in his hand.

“There's still half of it, don't worry” she reassures him patting his back and he offers her a second bottle of beer from out of nowhere.

“Are you sure they won't throw us out of the club if they catch us drinking?” I don't wanna be the party pooper, I just wanna be sure about the situation to stay away from trouble.

“Nah, they don't really card you here, anyway it's safer not to drink in the club, here in the backstage it's ok.” Craig reassures me and he still hasn't loosen his grip, actually he's holding tighter “And you're with me, you're safe”

“I'm gay” I learned it's better to nip things like this squarely in the bud. Also, when I say it our little group gets casually silent, even music stops in those two seconds. Well, that's better, I won't have to repeat.

“Ok. Can you be gay and drink with me at the same time?” Craig plays dumb but it's evident he's a little disappointed, even though he's being zen about it.

“Haha sure, no gay laws against that”

“Great, let's go, darling!” Craig pushes me into a hallway and everybody tags along. I spot a small group of three, four people chatting in front of a door. One of them is a very tall girl with glasses and long blonde dreadlocks. For a moment I feel like Angie feels 90% of the time. She's with three guys, a blonde and two dark haired ones.

“Hey Jerry, Stone'd kill for that vest, where did you get it?” Angie makes a joke about blondie's outfit. Apart from the multicolor vest, he's wearing red long johns and white shorts with skull print. And I thought I was daring too much matching a plaid skirt and a Little Mermaid's t-shirt. Anyway, clothes are not the things that catch my attention the most. It's the guy's name that sets off an alarm in my head: Jerry?

“I'm right here anyway” Stone complains giving Angie an apparently angry, but actually amused look. He is that Jerry.

“Sean knitted it for me! What? Don't you believe me? Now you look at him and see this bad, ugly, extremely gross drummer, but he's a champ at crochet” the asshole answers as he points at one of his friends.

“Hey! That's not true! I'm not bad!” the guy wipes invisible tears off his eyes.

“Great, you made him cry, are you happy now?” Angie jokingly scolds Jerry and I'm more and more dumbfounded. His friend is crying as a joke, but Jerry hurt you for real, how can you be so nonchalant?

After a small show of Angie and the blond amazon giving paper napkins to Sean, another round of meeting and introducing starts and I can't help clenching my teeth when it's Jerry's turn. He hands me a beer then opens the bottle with an opener attached to his key ring. I coldly thank him. He must have imagined I know everything.

**

“Why do you even talk to him?” I ask Angie when we're alone, trying to get the best front row places. She's not very happy, she'd rather be not so close to the stage, but I convinced her with the pretext of taking better pictures.

“Who?”

“Jerry! How can you talk to him? How can everybody? After he was a jerk to you” we're right in front of the stage, that's basically as tall as Angie.

“Well, it's very easy for everybody else: they don't know” she shrugs. That's so Angie, both shoulders shrugging and secrets.

“What do you mean they don't know?”

“We kept it low profile”

“Nodoby knows you broke up? Or nobody knows you were together at all?”

“Both. Except for Eddie and Mike” she reveals turning her back to the stage as soon as the music in the background gets louder, so that we can face each other and communicate more easily.

“And why didn't Eddie punch him in the face? Or did he?” he can't be on tour with him without a nice fistfight.

“No, he didn't”

“Surely because you told him not to, that'd be the only reason”

“I didn't... oh well, now that I think about it, technically yes” Angie stops in the middle of her thoughts and I was right as usual.

“I knew that”

“Anyway it's easy for me too, it's in the past now. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm not mad at him anymore, but...”

“But you've got the new stallion now, so who gives a fuck, right?” if this is the reason I can only agree, good for you, sis! Even though I can't stand Jerry getting away with this.

“You're such a dork” she states without looking at me, observing the people slowly piling up under the stage around us.

“You are the dork and I don't need to explain why, do I?” I'm serious now and not because I got mad or something. I've known this dork since we were children and I can't just let go without trying everything to have her open her eyes, every fucking time.

“I don't... I don't want to delude myself” she admits not so easily as she seems extremely concentrated on the club's floor.

“Since I've arrived I've seen no trace of illusions, only very tangible signals. Whale-sized signals, Angie”

“Sometimes illusions are so strong they seem real”

“But it's worth running the risk sometimes, I can assure you”

“He's got an ex girlfriend” she says after a while, right when I think I had the last word.

“So what? Is she stalking him? Did she threaten to kill you?”

“No no. It's just... I think he's getting closer to me because he misses her. I don't know her, she could as well be here now” she looks around as if she was actually looking for this mysterious ex, the perfect bugbear for Angie not to admit and deal with her true insecurities.

“Sure, he misses her so much he didn't even mention her today”

“It doesn't mean anything, he's very private, he doesn't talk about his shit all the time”

“Listen, I don't know anything about this girl or how did they break up and why. And I don't even know shit about him, apart from the couple of things you've told me these last months. But there's one thing I know and it's that the guy who's on stage right now, trying to untangle that guitar cable can't take his eyes off you” Angie suddenly turns around to look at the stage and little Eddie, who's been lovingly staring at her the whole time, feels caught red-handed and looks down first, then back up at her with a guilty smile.

“Eddie's too-” she shakes her head almost imperceptibly as she waves at him.

“Angie, shut up”

“But-”

“If you don't want to get me angry, don't finish the sentence”

“How do you know how it ends?” she asks with a sad smile.

“I know, I know you”

“If you know me, you'll understand me”

“I understand you but since I know you, I know that if you came here to California it's not just to meet me or see your friends play as you can easily do in Seattle too. I know and you know”

“You're right” she folds her arms against her chest and takes a deep breath before speaking.

“And if you came this fare, if you took this step you'd never take, it means you secretely believe it's worth it”

“I missed him” she whispers. Actually she must have spoken at a normal volume but it was barely audible with the loud music in the club.

“What? I can't hear you?” of course I play dumb.

“I missed Eddie, I wanted to see him, to be with him... for a while”

“You're in too deep, darling!” I snicker victoriously.

“Do you think I don't know? I'm so stupid” Angie steals another glance of Eddie, busy with some roadies around an amp, then just walks away.

“Hey, where are you going now?” I huff and follow her. Why does she always have to make things difficult?

“We can't stay here, there'll be hell here, I can't take pictures if people kicks my camera crowd surfing”

**

The concert is great. I mean, the concerts, Alice in Chains are so good and it's hard to admit it, but Jerry's a fucking guitar god. Pearl Jam, that's their name now, are a surprise. I'm not saying I was expecting them to suck, after all if they've been called to open for a band who got signed by a major they had to be good, but I didn't think they were that good. Angie told me they'd been playing together for a short time and Eddie had recently replaced the old singer and was still shy. Shy my ass. Maybe it's because he was playing in a familiar place in front of a crowd that was half his friends, but I saw a cool aggressive singer, who also joked with the audience and confidently owned the micro-stage. After the end of the show we spend half an hour more at the club, then we go out and we all start splitting and going on different cars and exchanging info about where the party's taking place. I thought about something round here but if I didn't get it wrong I heard them mentioning Dana Point, that's basically half way between here and Los Angeles. That's great because Eddie volunteers for driving my car taking me and Angie and this means one hour driving less for me. And it also means one hour more for the love birds to be together in a small space and for Angie I'm willing to sacrifice myself and be their third wheel. Anyway, since my friend is a dumbass she's got the smart idea to ask Michelle to come with us. I'm sorry for Eddie but the face he makes when Angie gets into the backseat with me is priceless. I try and save the situation telling I feel I can drive but Eddie's too kind and too polite to let me. Angie vs. Logic: 1-0. My friend basically ghosts out on us during the ride, despite Eddie's attempts at including her in the conversation. She just makes some remarks here and there and remains silent for the rest of the drive, while Mitch and the guy talk about surfing, about an alleged crisis of vert as opposed to street skateboarding and the width of a certain model of bass guitar.

Eddie parks the car, like anybody else, next to the railway and as soon as we get out of the car he's already arm in arm with Angie, just not to waste any more time.

“So? Do you like it?” he asks pointing at the landscape as we walk along the bridge over the railway that leads to the beach.

“Yes, it looks so peaceful” my friend replies and it means she maybe got her voice back.

“It's quiet during the day too, Doheny is never too busy,” Michelle adds “but it's one of the best beaches to me”

“This is where I surfed for the first time” Eddie reveals and Angie finally looks at him in the eyes.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was eleven, I used to came here to spend the weekend with my friend Christopher, who's Jamie's cousin actually” he explains, referring to one of the many friends of his I met tonight.

“Who set up the party” the girl points out.

“I rode my first waves with a twelve dollar board. It was a fucking coffin, full of craters. It was like surfing on a fuckin' log!”

“I assume surf technology took giant steps forward since then” Angie jokes as we get to the end of the bridge and enter some kind of small park with palm trees and picnic tables on one side, under the light of a long line of torches. Here are the others, who already started the party and were waiting for us.

“Hehe yeah, and I can afford something more decent to surf on. Anyway, I don't care, I'll never forget riding those first four waves on the log” Eddie's in a nostalgic mood and I, and I bet Angie too, can see waves rolling in his eyes.

“One of those waves in particular left a mark on you!” Michelle exclaimes, walking up to Eddie and jokingly lifting up his sweatshirt, pointing at something on his chest or belly, I can't really see anything in the dark. Angie lets go of the singer with the pretext of questioning the girl.

“Why? What did he do?” she asks with a little too much emphasis.

“Do you remember not so long ago, when I told you about surfboard leashes?” Eddie chimes in as he wants to explain himself, as we get to Stone's table.

“Yes”

“Well, those in 1975 were so stretchy that the board would fly back at you at supersonic speed”

“Breaking your face” Mitch adds showing a small red dot under her chin.

“Or planting against your sternum, like in my case” Eddie takes off his hoodie, shirt and t-shirt in a single move and stands right under one of the torches, pointing at a small scar we finally can see. Luckily Angie's already sitting because given the expression briefly appearing on her face, I think she'd have fallen face first into the sand without support.

“What are you talking about?” Jerry asks and honestly he could as well mind his own business.

“Battle scars” the blond surfer girl explains, as she helps herself with chips and beer.

“If we start listing all the bones Eddie and I broke, we'll end by dawn maybe” Craig makes room for me to sit beside him. He's clearly trying to be gentler than before not to give the impression he was kind only when he thought he could hit on me. There's nothing wrong with that, at least it's nice to find some sensitivity and empathy in people for once, it's just I've been observing this kind of behaviour all my life and I can't help but smile to myself when I notice.

“What about you Angie? Were you a daredevil child too?” Michell wakes her up from her daydreaming.

“Me? Uhm actually no, not at all”

“No?”

“The first and last time I set my foot on a skateboard I broke my coccyx, so my career in that sense was really short”

“Ouch! That must hurt!” Jeff grits his teeth and insinctively puts a hand agains his butt.

“This is new, you never told us. Why?” Stone is the most surprised of them all.

“Anyway show us the scar or it didn't happen, right?” Craig turns to look at Eddie, who turns to his friend like he wanted to jump at his throat any minute now.

“I was there and I can say it's true” I save both Angie from embarrassment and Craig from death.

“You were there because you were the one who put me on that fucking skateboard”

“We could be Toni Hawk and Rodney Mullen in a dress!” I complain as I help myself a big serving of popcorn and throw a couple at my friend.

“I've never worn a dress in my whole life”

**

“I don't think so” it's Angie's categorical answer when someone has the crazy idea to suggest jumping in the ocean in the middle of the night. I'd have been surprised if she accepted.

“Ok. Who stays on the beach cleans everything up!” Jamie yells as he takes off his pants and throws himself towards the water, followed by the whole gang, me included. Someone else is missing though, not just my friend. After I froze my butt in the icy water, I swim back to the shore and walk up to the beach, where Michell hands me a towel. I wrap myself up with it like a burrito, she slowly dabs herself with another towel.

“Have you seen Eddie?” I ask her because I left him my clothes and bag and I can't see them where I left them.

“He went on the rocks with his girlfriend, down there.” she says with a wink, then points at a series of rocks not far from here “I'd wait a minute before disturbing them”

With his girlfriend? Is she here? Who the hell is she? Was she among us all this time? Or has she just arrived? And how did Angie take it? And where is she now? The answer to my questions comes after I take a few jumps towards the spot indicated by Mitch. There he is, Eddie, sitting on a rock and watching the stars with his girlfriend: Angie. Who else? If Michelle considers her as Eddie's girlfriend, it counts for their friends too. After all it's quite obvious, it took me ten minutes to figure it out.

They're very cute together but I'm fuckin' freezing and I want my stuff back, I need to put some clothes on asap if I don't want to die. I walk up to them cautiously, from behind, and I end up eavesdropping what they say. But I swear I didn't want to! Anyway, their conversation speaks for itself.

“You could go too anyway”

“Nah, I don't really feel like...”

“Bullshit, you just don't want to leave me alone”

“No, I just don't want to get sick in the middle of a tour”

“Your tour mates aren't giving a fuck”

“One more reason to stay safe, there must be at least one healthy person”

“You don't have to babysit me tonight too, Eddie, you've already been doing it for two days”

“But I love it... can I babysit you a little longer?”

“Hahaha sure”

“Listen, I'm gonna keep seeing these assholes for a while, but you're leaving tomorrow. Do you mind if I'd rather spend this time with you?”

“No, I don't. But I never figured you for a masochist”

“I guess you'll just have to get used to that”

******************************************************************************************************************************************

“Angie? It's time to wake up!” this is my fourth attempt and if I keep on knocking on the bedroom's door it's only because I know she has to go back to Seattle. If it was up to me, I'd let her sleep to keep her here with me a little longer.

“Yeah, just a minute...” I hear her mumble through the door, exactly like the other three times.

Maybe we should have stayed awake without sleeping at all, considering she leaves so early in the morning, but she didn't resist, she was dead tired. So I stayed awake alone, sitting on my rooftop smoking, looking at the stars and pondering about my stupidity. Two days, I've had her here with me for two whole days and when I saw her for the first time on the beach and heard the news two days seemed such a long time to me. Now what? They're gone and what did I do? Nothing. I mean, it was great, we spent a lot of time together and had fun and I believe I won't forget a single second I spent with Angie. But she'll be gone in a little more than one hour and I didn't tell her anything or kiss her. Why is it so difficult? I keep trying to push the conversation in a certain direction all the time but there's always some kind of diversion taking us somewhere else, somewhere not necessarily unpleasant but generally very far from being in he arms. I was pretty close a couple of times, the first one I got interrupted by Mike Starr who was in the mood for dancing, the second one it was Dina. Actually she isn't to blame, she just wanted to get dressed and avoid hypothermia. And I could have got a move on anyway, I mean, if I can't even kiss a girl in a secluded corner of a small romantic beach under the starlight with the sweet low surge of the ocean waves as a soundtrack... well, I don't know then, I'm just hopeless I guess. Anyway, that was it and I can't go back, I can only look and think ahead and try to make the right choices in the future. I walk back into the kitchen and I reach in my pocket to check if the tape I made for Angie's still there. And where else would that be anyway? Normal guys simply hit on girls, I give out love-themed mix tapes that'll be heard by the receiver when she's like miles away. I didn't get anywhere acting as an adult, right? Now I'm gonna try boyish techniques...

I check out the time once again when the coffee is ready and go scouting in the bathroom area. I put an ear to the door to hear any possible sound but I can't hear anything. I cautiosly enter and like I thought, I find it empty. Thank god you were an early bird, Angie! I knock once again at Angie's door, that is at my bedroom's door, and no one answers. I slowly open it and she's still in bed, as it turns out.

“Angie” I call her from the doorway a couple of times but she doesn't move an inch. I walk up to the bed almost intimidated, maybe by her beauty or by her low snoring or by the word LOSER written on the t-shirt she borrowed. I get right beside her and keeping my eyes on her all the time I sit down on the bed next to her, trying not to make a sound. And I don't know why since I'm supposed to wake her up and should be loud instead.

“Angie, wake up... Angie!” I shake he shoulders softly but I get nothing more than a groan of complaint as a response.

“Mmmhh”

“Come on, Angie, it's late” I go on and she licks her lips and tilts her head to the left towards me, as if she looked right at me but keeping her eyes shut all the time. For a moment I think she's about to wake up but then she parts her lips slightly and starts breathing deeply, while her head falls back into the pillow in slow motion.

I feel more and more like the writing on the t-shirt Angie's wearing because I'd sit here just looking at her sleeping for hours, examining the smallest gestures and movements, and it's like I'm walking on the thin line between being in love and being a creep.

“Angie, I know you wanna sleep but I also know that once you wake up, you'll kill me if I make you miss the bus to Seattle. Get up, come on” I shake her again and this time she babbles something more comprehensible that I've already heard.

“Yeah, just a m...” she can't even say the whole sentence and she's already back to sleep.

“Angie” I lean down on her until I can feel her breath against my cheeks and find out it's a very nice feeling. And weird ideas intrude my mind.

“Don't even think about it” I tell myself as I try to look away from Angie's lips but it's easier said than done.

“She's not the Sleeping Beauty and you're not Prince Charming, you dumbass” I repeat to myself as my mouth follows a track of its own.

I'm an inch away from a kiss and I feel lightheaded, I don't know if it's for the umcomfortable position, for sleep-deprivation or excitement or because I'm basically breathing in only the carbon dioxide the girl I love is breathing out. I barely brush the tip of my lips against hers then immediately back up, once I realize what I'm actually doing. Is this the first kiss I wanna give to her? While she's asleep? While she can't react and tell me to fuck off? I lay down beside her, resting my head on the same pillow, and I look at her face trying to fix every single detail in my mind, to commit this moment to memory and never forget it. Then I get up from the bed.

“Sorry, Angie, there's no other way” Daydream Nation's cd is in my stereo, I select track number 5 and crank up the volume before pressing PLAY.

“FUCK!” Angie exclaims as she abruptly sits up on the bed.

“GOOD MORNING!” I yell over the music without turning it off.

“WHAT... WHAT TIME IS IT?”

“IT'S TIME... hehe it's time to get up” I giggle and turn down the volume to more human levels.

“Ok, I'm gonna get up now” Angie holds her head between her hands then look around still confused.

“Forgive me, princess, but you wouldn't wake up, I tried everything”

“Everything?” she asks and accurately avoids looking at me. She must be angry.

“Well, yeah, calling and shaking you didn't work...”

“I'm sorry, I'm... I'm gonna get dressed and ready now” Angie lifts the covers and gets out of bed immediately, going straight for her backpack and looking for something inside, still without looking at me. For a moment there I think I see her blushing.

“Sure, I'll leave you alone now. And... well, I made coffee if you want it” I add as I leave.

“Great, thanks”

**

“Anyway you could have taken a slice of cake” I scold her as we get out of the car.

“No, it's yours. And I had plenty of it yesterday” says Angie and now she's vaguely more alive and talkative than earlier, although I can see she's tired.

“One more bite wouldn't have killed you”

“No! And I got cookies anyway. And also the sandwiches you made me. By the way, you shouldn't have, I could buy something once in L.A.”

“Look, I know you're saying this because you think they're not edible and don't wanna offend me. I can assure you they're good”

“Hahaha I trust you, don't worry, it's not that. I meant you already did a lot for me”

“Uhm maybe I like doing things for you, is it bad?”

“No, it's not. Thank you anyway”

“You're welcome”

We keep walking until we get to the fucking bus station where we'll have to say bye in a while. And I know I'll meet her again in a few days but I also know it's gonna be different in Seattle. I mean, it is different now, here in San Diego, and it could have been even more different. In Seattle it's all the same and knowing me and knowing Angie's insight, it'll be the same for a while.

“That's mine, the third from bottom” Angie points towards a white bus with blue, red and yellow stripes on the side parked at the other end and that's where we head to, as I zip my jacket and pull up the hood over my head because of the cold morning wind.

“Uh I almost forgot” of course I didn't forget it, not even for a minute, I've been turning it in my hand inside my pocket for an hour.

“What?”

“Something for you, for the bus ride” I show her the cassette and I knew she's have smiled but I wasn't ready for that kind of wonder, I'm never ready for that.

“Is it your home?” she asks referring to our old conversation. She showed me her home, the songs she takes shelter in, and it'd be my turn now.

“Yeah, for some months now...”

“Your new home in Seattle, huh? I'm curious...” Angie looks at it although nothing's written on it, as if she could unlock its secrets from its blank cover. She doesn't understand all it takes is looking into my eyes: she believes I put my new life in Seattle on tape, whereas I was talking about the last few months I spent slowly and hopelessly falling in love with her.

“I didn't write titles of course”

“So that I can live the moment listening to it?” will I survive one week without her adorably making fun of me?

“Also” I reply and I must look not very amused because her voice changes, although I can't see why.

“Hey, I was just kidding... I like the idea of being surprised, I did it too”

“Hehe sure, I know, you're talking like I got upset or something”

“Aren't you upset?”

“No, why would I?”

“I don't know, you're strange”

“Strange? You mean, more than usual?”

“Hehe yes, you... you look sad”

“Well it must be because I am sad”

“Why? What happened?” her porcelain face becomes worried.

“What happened... what's happening here, now... you leaving...”

“Are you sad because I'm going back home?” Angie looks at me as if I spoke another language.

“Yeah... I mean, my little house on the beach will be empty again. And I'll miss you, you know” it takes me a lot to make this half admission and Angie doesn't react as I'm expecting.

“Hahaha shut up!” she basically blurts out laughing at my face as we make our way across the bus station.

“It's true”

“Oh Eddie, do you know what you need?” she sighs and asks what really looks like a rhetorical question.

“What?” you to stay?

“A girlfriend, Eddie. You really should find yourself one”

“Ah. D'you think so?” the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

“Yes”

“Well, ehm, yeah, maybe. It's not easy though”

“It'd be very easy for you, if only you didn't make your life so difficult”

“You're absolutely right about that”

“If you just stopped building castles in the air, maybe you'd realize it's easier than you think”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you should shake off this idea of yours of the perfect girl and look around”

“Perfect girl?”

“Yeah, the girl who appears from out of nowher and turns your life upside down, who makes you lose your mind with a gesture or, how did you call it, a detail that drives you crazy. You said your problem was that you fall in love too easily. Well, it looks like the exact opposite to me. I'm not saying you should get with the first girl you meet but maybe you could stop staring at the pedestal waiting for someone to climb on it and give an opportunity to normal girls”

“Pedestal, but... what the fuck are you talking about?”

“All I'm saying is that if you stopped waiting for the mythical ideal girl, maybe you'd notice that the right girl for you is already there and she's right before your eyes but you don't even notice” she states as we get right in front of her bus, which is already surrounded by a small group of travellers and sleepy accompanying persons like me.

“Really?” I was almost getting mad at her but I like this part of her speech. I like it a lot.

“Yes, it could be someone pretty close to you, a friend you don't even consider” you think I don't consider you, you're so silly.

“Please forgive me, Angie, it's kinda early and I can't get all the shades and subtleties of the spoken language. Are we still talking hypothetically or do you mean someone specific?”

“I don't know, what do you think?”

“I don't know, I wouldn't ask you if I did”

“A specific person”

“Ok...” I take a step towards her.

“There's a girl who could, I mean, who is perfect for you, but you don't give a fuck about her”

“That's what you say” another small step.

“I say it 'cause I know”

“Maybe you're wrong” third step, at the third one I'll be all over her.

“I hope so, because she's such a gorgeous girl and you must be blind not to notice her. Apart from the fact she's beautiful and a force of nature, you basically love the same things and you should see the both of you when you talk. There's so much chemistry!” she talks very fast, too fast for six o'clock in the morning.

“Angie, who the hell are you talking about?” I'd love to think about a sudden boost of self esteem and confidence but I'm smellin' a rat.

“I already know what you're gonna say, you know? She's only a friend, I can't, blah blah...But that's your mistake, separating love from friendship, because before being lovers you have to be partners and friends, and you and Michelle have this deep connection that-”

“Michelle” it's not a rat, it's pure shit.

“You'd be perfect together”

“MICHELLE?!” I must have crazy eyes or maybe I'm screaming a little too loud because Angie flinches and backs up.

“Yeah! See? I told you, I bet you didn't even think about her!”

“Actually I didn't”

“Well you should!”

“Tell me you're kidding”

“Hehe no!” she laughs. She laughs. And I'm about to lose my patience.

“Angie, being with Mitch would be some kind of incest, I've known her for twenty years or something, she's like a sis-”

“She's like a sister, we're just friends, blah blah... just like I told you before! I knew that”

“So... you're saying the solution to all my problems would be getting together with my best friend who lives one thousand miles away from me?” I take a deep breath and try to keep calm.

“Long-distance relationships can work, if there's trust and love”

“Between Mitch and I there's no trust or love, nothing's there, Angie. Our friendship is too deep and apart from that she doesn't like me that way and I don't like her that way”

“You don't like her?”

“NOT IN THAT WAY!” I raise my voice again and as I look around I notice I caught the attention of the other passengers.

“You're an idiot, Eddie, let me tell ya” Angie shakes her head and pulls back up her backpack that was slipping off her shoulder.

“If that's what you think...”

“You're too fuckin' picky! I see you can do that but... I don't know, I can't work you out” why is she getting all worked up? I'm getting all worked up too.

“You're the one to talk” I can't hold back this time but my allusion goes unnoticed.

“I could understand you didn't want Violet, to a certain extent, because she was very distant from your world and you didn't have anything in common. But Michelle?! She's a musician, a surfer, a skater, likes sports, she's an environmentalist and socially commited! She told me about what she does, what you do, for homeless people. And the fact she knows you so well is a plus to me, because she knows how to approach you and take care of you, she knows your flaws and weaknesses and can understand you better than anyone else. But you... you don't wanna hear about it! I... Fuck, I don't know?! I'd be curious to know what a girl must look like for you to like her, since I know you I've never seen a girl you like, not even one by mistake. Who knows what did your exes look like? They must have been some kind of living goddesses to b-” Angie keeps talking and talking and at some point I stop listening to her because the more I listen the more I get mad so I just put an end to this bullshit in the only possible way: I reach for her nape, pull her head toward me and kiss her.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

I'm swimming. Weird right? Even weirder is the fact I can perfectly breathe under water. And I don't even have gills! I know because as I look for Eddie in the dark depths of this, I don't know, sea? Lake? While I hear him calling me and try to reach him, I touch the side of my face and neck, expecting to find some kind of openings but nothing's there.

“Angie!” there is Eddie's voice again so I stop asking myself silly questions about my underwater respiration.

“I'm coming!” I answer as I move towards a bright spot in the distance. 'Cause actually I'm not really swimming, but I'm not walking either, it's something in between. The light turns out to be closer than expected and in a minute find myself in front of a small rusty spotlight pointing down towards the seabed. Following the light trail I finally find what I've been looking for.

“Angie...” I hear him calling again but more weakly. I dive-bomb towards Eddie's silhouette, slumped over between two rocks. Besides the amphibious skills, I'm clearly very strong too because I throw away one of the big rocks with one hand and I use the other to grab Eddie by his arm and drag him up with me as I swim towards the surface. The rise is very long, I'm fast but it seems to me I've been swimming for hours before I finally get out of the water. I hold on to the floating bed base and manage to climb on it, pulling Eddie up with me and saving him. But is he safe for real? I look at him and he's so pale, I try and shake him and slap him but he doesn't move.

“Eddie...” I lean on him to try and check his breath but nothing comes out of those sweet lips. The first aid classes I took finally turn out to be useful, although I wish I would never need those. I lift his chin tilting his head back as much as possible, I open his mouth delicately but quickly and check inside with my fingers to verify that the airway is clear and there's nothing that could be dangerous, I pinch his nostrils closed with my fingers and, always putting pressure on the jaw, I take a deep breath in and place my lips tightly over his to blow big and quick breaths. I back up and release his nose for five seconds then start it all over again, two, three, four times. I place two fingers on his strong neck checking for a pulse I can't feel, I lay my hand at the center of Eddie's chest and push for thirty times, as they taught me, using my whole upper body weight to provide all the force I have. I wanna cry but I can't, this is not the right moment. I go back to Eddie's lips, desperately trying to blow life inside him, when at some point I feel something weird: his mouth is not frozen anymore, it moves, his lips tenderly curve upwards. I pull away abruptly and I see him staring at me with his ocean blue eyes and a dimpled smile.

“You love me then?” he asked amused.

“YOU'RE AN IDIOT!” I yell at his face punching his pale chest, right where I pushed with my whole self a minute ago.

“Angie...” Eddie doesn't lose his cool, he keeps smiling at me and starts tracing the tips of his fingers across my back, first through my soaked t-shirt and then right under it.

“That's a pretty cruel prank to pull!” I scold him again, but he just rest his other hand on my shoulder first, then takes the lock of wet hair stuck against my cheek and pushes it away from my face “You scared me to death”

“I know you want to slap my face now, but I also know you'd be mad if I didn't kiss you again”

“I...”

“Angie...” with a delicate but quick gesture, Eddie pushes me sideways and turns me on my back, basically inverting our positions, and starts kissing me like a madman.

It's all strange and normal at the same time, everythings warm and bright and enveloping and I can hear music in the distance. But I can only hear the bass and percussions, as if it came from underwater or from another room, and I can't understand what song it is. It just makes me wanna dance. I pull away from Eddie and lean over towards the water's edge, trying to recognize the melody, but he doesn't like the parting. I can barely see the frown on his face before one last kiss, that's almost a bite, and before he throws me back into the water.

I can't see anything at all, all I see is me

That's clear enough

And that's what's important, to see me

My eyes can focus

My brain is talking

It looks pretty good to me

“FUCK!” I wake up startled, the taste of a kiss still on my lips and Sonic Youth raping my ears and brain.

“GOOD MORNING!” the kisser, actually the real life version of him, greets me snickering and I feel so fucking embarrassed for the adventures of my subconscious.

“WHAT... WHAT TIME IS IT?” I ask him the first thing that comes to mind just to avoid silence.

“IT’S TIME… hehe it’s time to get up” Eddie finally decides to end the torture but his dimpled smile only reminds me how close I was to those dimples in my dream.

“Ok, I’m gonna get up now” I hesitate a little more while Eddie explains how he tried to wake me up, then I actually get out of bed and reach for my backpack, I take my clean underwear and pretend to look for something else to avoid looking at him and see those lips that... Why am I like this?!

**

“I didn't write titles of course”

“So that I can live the moment listening to it?” I joke as I try to penetrate the cassette box with my eye to get to know the content in advance. I'm very curious about Eddie's home, I want to know him better. I know something about his music taste, I know The Who are his favorite band and he likes Butthole Surfers and Minor Threat. Either that or he's particularly attracted to their t-shirts aesthetic! I think he put some Fugazi too, together with Springsteen, Dylan and Tom Petty. Well, I can say I already have the whole Side A in my mind. But there's a whole Side B to discover and I can't wait to get on the bus, put the tape in my walkman and put earbuds on. Because, yes, I'm about to say bye to Eddie and I won't see him for a week at least but with this mix tape it'll be like having him with him all the time.

“Also” he replies with a strange voice. I look up at him and notice a frowned expression.

“Hey, I was just kidding… I like the idea of being surprised, I did it too” I thought he was used to my unpleasant sense of humor by now.

“Hehe sure, I know, you’re talking like I got upset or something”

“Aren’t you upset?”

“No, why would I?” maybe because you're being defensive.

“I don’t know, you’re strange”

“Strange? You mean, more than usual?” yes, because you're not crazy-strange, you're unhappy-strange.

“Hehe yes, you… you look sad”

“Well it must be because I am sad”

“Why? What happened?” I'm immediately alarmed. What if he saw Beth last night? Or maybe it's exactly the opposite, maybe he hoped to see her but she didn't show up...

“What happened… what’s happening here, now… you leaving…” me? What have I got to do with this?

“Are you sad because I’m going back home?”

“Yeah… I mean, my little house on the beach will be empty again. And I’ll miss you, you know” you'll miss me, sure. You'll miss somebody, having someone to talk to, but it's not like I'm the only person on the plante.

“Hahaha shut up!”

“It’s true” I know it's true for you. The problem is it's true for me too. And we've got all the premises for a disaster. We'd better change our way.

“Oh Eddie, do you know what you need?”

“What?”

“A girlfriend, Eddie. You really should find yourself one” that's when I start giving him some kind of lecture, although that wasn't my first intention. It's all his fault though! He's fuckin' asking for it, I mean, how can he not sense the connection between Michell and him? How can he say she's not his type? Why is nobody his type? How can it be? And why have a type anyway? I like tall movie nerds with a big nose but that doesn't mean I wouldn't give a chance to, I don't know, short music and surf lovers with a cute button nose. Is it possible he doesn't like anyone? Eddie's very handsome, no doubt about it, no one knows it more than me how hot this guy is. And he's also a good and mysterious soul, a passionate artist... I mean, he has it all. But if not even a knockout like Mitch is his type... I don't know what to think.

“You don’t like her?”

“NOT IN THAT WAY!” Eddie raises his voice all upset, drawing the attention of the other waiting passengers even more, after they've been following our discussion from the beginning.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie, let me tell ya” why do you have to make it all so difficult?

“If that’s what you think…”

“You’re too fuckin’ picky! I see you can do that but… I don’t know, I can’t work you out” if Violet's not his type, Michelle's not his type... I can only imagine what I look like to his eyes.

“You’re the one to talk” he mumbles and I see where he's getting at. He's the picky one whereas I'm the opposite, I'm the one who's always been chosen and never chose. I'm not saying my attitude is the right one, I think somewhere in the middle would be the ideal solution.

“I could understand you didn’t want Violet, to a certain extent, because she was very distant from your world and you didn’t have anything in common. But Michelle?! She’s a musician, a surfer, a skater, likes sports, she’s an environmentalist and socially commited! She told me about what she does, what you do, for homeless people. And the fact she knows you so well is a plus to me, because she knows how to approach you and take care of you, she knows your flaws and weaknesses and can understand you better than anyone else. But you… you don’t wanna hear about it! I… Fuck, I don’t know?! I’d be curious to know what a girl must look like for you to like her, since I know you I’ve never seen a girl you like, not even one by mistake. Who knows what did your exes look like? They must have been some kind of living goddesses to b-” Eddie gives me a skeptical look the whole time without blinking an eye, then disbelief turns into an actual frown and I suddenly have this déjà vu moment. But I don't have the time to remember where I already saw that frown, 'cause I get knocked down by a sort of hurricane, that lifts me off my feet and then throws me back down with a bang, leaving me with trembling knees and hands. I know Eddie's kissing me, I'm aware of that, I can clearly feel his lips slowly moving against mine, his hand caressing my hair, his fingers so dangerously close to my weak spot on the nape than the mere thought he touch it almost makes me lose my mind. I'm present to the moment I'm living right now and I wouldn't want to be anytime and anywhere else, but that doesn't mean I'm actually understanding what's happening to me. Actually, I can't find any trace of logic in all this, I start believing I never really woke up, that I'm still in Eddie's bed, wearing his Loser t-shirt, nomen omen the Latin would say... And maybe I'm right there because all of a sudden it seems like I can hear the rumbling sound of music in the distance, coming from a closed space: it can be the stereo of a car that's getting close, an after hours club, the powerful clock radio of a hard sleeper. I don't know where it comes from, I only know it sounds a lot like the one I heard during the dream and if I wasn't an atheist and a rationalist I'd start considering omens and oracles. But Eddie backs up slightly and when I open my eyes and meet his I definitely lose every sense of time and space.

“Too many words for six o'clock in the morning, Angie” it's barely more than a whisper against my lips.

“I... Oh my god, I'm sorry, it's... it's sleep deprivation, basically it's like I'm drunk. And you know that when I'm drunk I talk too much and use a lot of big words. Well, actually I haven't used any big words now, that must be an exclusive feature of alcohol consumption, but the chatty aspect is still there. That and snooping around into other people's business 'cause I generally not. Not because I'm a thoughtless uncaring person, of course, but-” Eddie's eyes are quizzical during my whole rant, until he decides to put an end to this as well, the same way as he did before. Eddie pulls me against him once again applying a soft pressure against my neck, then kisses me, burying his fingers in my hair completely and now I'm the one who forgets how to breathe. I'm the gasping one on the floating bed, while Eddie tries to revive me and ignores the fact he's the cause of my blackout. The 4/4 rhythm is still in the background, still the same, it doesn't get close or move away. My arms are limp, dangling at my sides, and I must look quite ridiculous but I don't really know where to put my hands and honestly I don't even know I have limbs right now and I'm not really sure about their real purpose. This drunk-like state continues until Eddie decides to take my lower lip in his mouth and start nibbling on it, before moving his tongue over it ever so lightly. That's when reality hits me like a cold shower. Only it's not reality but lucid insanity, so typical of me. Because as soon as Eddie slips his tongue between my lips and inside my mouth, I've got the feeling someone suddenly threw the door of the music room wide open or just threw me in there and everything's suddenly clear. And it's not Sonic Youth. And it's not Tom Jones either. It's Depeche Mode, performing on the roof of the bus.

When I'm with you baby

I go out of my head

And I just can't get enough

And I just can't get enough

“Still too many words, huh?” I ask when Dave Gahan, fully dressed in leather, stops singing and just dances around Vince Clark, who plays keyboards like crazy.

“I think so” Eddie replies as he brushes his nose against mine shaking his head.

“Sor-” I can't even say one word and he's once again attacking my lips, pressing his body so hard against mine that my backpack falls from my shoulder and leaving very little space between us.

By now I remember I have arms, maybe because Gahan has just pulled them up over my head while we're dancing together and I wonder why isn't he sweating with those fuckin' leather pants because it's so fucking hot in here. I don't really know where I put my hands but when Eddie backs away from me and I open my eyes again, I see his hood's not over his head anymore and he's now circling and gently caressing my wrists with the tip of his fingers. I see it and feel it. Feel it too much.

“Interrupting a woman who's speaking is not really feminist, you know?”

“Isn't it?” he asks pretending to be surprised and alarmed. I answer shaking my head “Not even with a kiss?”

“Nuh-uh”

“Well, you have my apologies then, my princess”

“I accept your apologies”

“I'll wait for you to finish talking before doing it again”

“Great, that'll be better”

“Fine”

“Fine.” I repeat, then I stare at him in silence for a few seconds, still too many for my taste “I finished”

“Fine” he echoes before his passion washes over me once more with another kiss.

“Angie, it's time to go” Eddie says when I still have my eyes closed and am sitting at a bar, drinking smoothies with Depeche Mode, and for a moment, for the umpteenth time, but more convincingly, I really think I'm still in Eddie's bed, while he's calling me to get up because it's late. And I'll probably curse profusely because I'm about to miss the bus. Anyway, when I open my eyes I find myself at the bus station, right in front of the white bus that's gonna take me back to Seattle, a long series of faces smiling and winking at me as the passengers put their largest suitcases in the trunk of the bus.

“Huh?” I ask still woozy.

“The bus is about to leave”

“Uh! Ok, let's go” I try and come to my senses putting one foot in front of the other but something, or someone, blocks me.

“Angie?”

“Yes?”

“The bus”

“Yes”

“It's this way”

“Oh yeah, sure! Sorry, hehe, I'm still sleeping basically” I apologize and walk the right direction.

“Angie?”

“Yeah?”

“Your backpack” I turn around and see it on the ground next to Eddie's feet. He giggles as he takes it and walks up to me.

“Thank you” I gesture for him to give it to me but he keeps the bag and takes my hand, pulling me towards the bus.

Eddie literally has to take the ticket from my backpack and show it to the driver because I just can't, then gets on the bus with me and makes me sit down.

“Do you wanna put the backpack up here? I'll help you” he asks pointing at the overhead compartment.

“No, thank you, I'm gonna keep it here for the moment, then I'll think about it”

“I can help her too” a good looking woman around thirty with nice curly hair and red-framed glasses looks up from her book and smiles alternatively at me and Eddie.

“Thank you...”

“Ok, gotta go now or I end up going back to Seattle in advance instead of playing in Oakland”

“And Stone would kill the both of us”

“Exactly... Bye Angie, call me when you get home, ok?” Eddie bends down on his knees to give me another kiss who's barely there but it's not less effective than the others.

“Ok”

“Maybe even before that if you can, I guess you'll have other stops after L.A., right?”

“I think so... but maybe you won't be home and-”

“I don't care, leave me a message, I just wanna hear you, ok? Have a safe trip”

“Thank you, have... a nice... show” I answer in between kisses.

“See you in Seattle” after one last caress on my cheek and a kiss on my forehead, Eddie says bye to me and my travel companion and gets off the bus.

“I don't wanna be nosy, dear, but let me tell you: you're crazy”

“Excuse me?” I stop staring at the aisle where Eddie's just passed and turned towards the female voice who's just spoken beside me.

“You're crazy, leaving a guy like that alone on Valentine's Day” the woman goes on and nods at the window.

I look out and see Eddie pulling his hood back over his head and waving at me, before putting both hands in his pockets. I reply with the same gesture right when the bus starts to move. Valentine's Day? Who on earth ever thought of this?

[dreamsofpilots]

Horns Pt. 3

Josh Dun x Reader

Tyler Joseph, Brendon Urie, Barns Courtney

Josh tries to heal, but what is that figure lurking in the shadows?

Warnings: Demons, Hellhounds, mentions of blood, cursing

AN: Hey guys, sorry this took me so long to write. I’m coming out of probably the worst depressive episode that I’ve ever experienced. But here it is now, enjoy. Since you’ve been so patient, it’s a bit long to keep you satisfied. Don't be afraid to like/comment.

A log shifted in the fireplace, causing sparks to flare up and wash the living room in an eerie glow. Hound yawned, letting out a slight whine, before licking Josh’s wounded leg again. 

He still hadn't woken up, but at least I was able to stop the bleeding and stich up the wound in his thigh. Plus, with the added help of Hound’s saliva, the venom had virtually disappeared from his system. At least I hoped so. 

It was all my fault that Josh was in this condition, and it bothered me to no end that I was upset about this. When I had first met the rancher, I had every intention to kill him if he got in my way. Now-

I sighed, looking over at him. Sweat glistened on his brow and his dark hair clung to it in wet clumps. I stood and went to the kitchen to grab a towel before returning to his side. He stirred slightly as I mopped at his forehead, small grunts of pain escaping from him. 

“Josh?” I asked softly, not wanting to startle him. He groaned a little, throwing his head to the side but still keeping his eyes tightly shut. Something unpleasant twisted inside of me. “Josh, hey, wake up.”

Slowly, almost excruciatingly so, his eyes opened. They looked wildly about the darkened room before landing on me. They were clouded with pain and lacked the look of focus as he stared at me. “How are you feeling?” I asked hesitantly. 

Josh seemed to snap to the present moment at my question, his eyes opening wide in fear. He jerked upright and attempted to scooch away from me before the pain in the leg stopped him in his tracks. 

“Josh, relax. You’re going to open up your stitches.”

I placed my hand on his leg to inspect said stiches before he swatted at me. 

“Don’t touch me!” he yelled, his voice raspy. “Don’t you dare touch me, demon!”

I recoiled. He didn’t hit me, but he might as well have. His words stung like a slap to the face. “What? Should I have let you die out there then? Let the hellhound venom take your body right there in the desert? That is if you hadn’t bled out first.” 

I stood, turning my back to him as I gazed into the fire. Hound whined, and I heard the distinct sound of licking as he probably tended to Josh’s wound again. The room was quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the wood crackling in the flames. Heat flared on my cheeks, but it had nothing to do with the fire. 

It was shame. I actually felt ashamed for what I was for once. A demon. A creature of Hell. Not good for anything but pain, deceit, and mayhem. I’m sure that’s all Josh sees me as now. 

Josh grunted in pain as he shifted on the couch behind me. “Thank you,” he whispered. He was so quiet I first thought that I imagined it. 

“What?” I said rather sharply, spinning to pin my eyes on him.

Josh scowled, looking away from me in disgust. “I said, thank you.” 

I scoffed, lowering myself in a mock bow. “At your service.” Crossing my arms I began pacing in front of him, his eyes following my every move. “You’re lucky that the cure to hellhound venom is antibodies that are in hellhound saliva. The beasts are both a sickness and a cure. Perfect for torture.” 

Josh stared hard down at his lap, lost in deep contemplation. Assuming I would get no more from him, I motioned for Hound to follow me as I stepped toward the spare room. 

“I want you to leave,” came a small voice from the couch.

“What?” I demanded. 

He turned his head to fix me with a glare, “You need to leave.” 

Stunned, I stood quietly for a moment, staring back at this human. Rolling back my shoulders and straightening myself to my full height I retorted, “Without me you would be dead.”

“If it wasn't for you, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place!” Josh shouted. He attempted to stand, failing miserably as the pain in his leg seized him and he fell to the ground. I rushed to his side, attempting to help him up. He shook me off with an angry huff before plopping back onto the couch. 

“Why did you even come here? You’ve brought nothing but problems!”

On reflex, I drew my demon blade from my boot, pressing the cool metal against Josh’s throat. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes widening. 

“None of that matters now,” I hissed. “You’re injured and at risk of being held hostage to get to me now. You have no way to defend yourself against my kind, let alone even take care of your ranch with your leg in that condition.” 

Josh bit back a growl of frustration, shoving me away. He was weak, but I allowed the action. 

“I will stay here with you whether you like it or not. Unfortunately for both of us, your life is my responsibility now, so I will stay and protect you until you get better. Barns will be in no condition to tell anyone where I am yet since you shot him. That should give me about a week to come up with a plan while you recover.” 

Josh glared hard at me, the light from the fire casting menacing shadows across his face. His cheekbones looked sharp and handsome, his eyes dark and intimidating, and his lips... My chest tightened in a way that left me confused. I cleared my throat and tucked my knife away.  

“Get some sleep. You need it.” I walked away before Josh could say anything more, Hound following behind me. 

Sleep did not come easily to me that night. I couldn’t seem to get the image of Josh bleeding out from my mind. His eyes were filled with terror as we raced back to the ranch, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, I felt fear for someone other than myself. 

Once Barns had recovered, I was sure that Tyler would come for me. I had to be ready. I had to find the Colt, and I had to protect Josh. He was right, it was my fault that this was happening to him, and he had almost lost his life. I would not let that happen again. 

The rest of the week had moved by slowly. Manual labor was not something I was entirely familiar with. Unless you counted battling an entire legion of demons just for fun ‘manual labor.‘ Either way, taking care of an entire ranch by yourself, with a grumpy injured cowboy shouting angry slurs at you from the porch whenever you messed up, was not my idea of a good time. 

With Josh indisposed, I couldn’t just let the horses suffer, so I sucked it up and followed his directions. I did take solace in paying special attention to Inferno and Sparrow though. Inferno especially. I was going to miss that horse whenever I returned to my home. 

Josh would watch with vigilant eyes from his rocking chair by the door, his Stetson casting shadows over his face. I would catch him staring at me as I groomed Inferno on a grassy area between the barn and the house. He would always look away quickly when our eyes met, pulling his hat lower, and I would feel myself blush. 

It was getting rather annoying having all these human attributes come out of me since being back on the surface, that was certain. Still, at least there was no sign of any other demons yet, and Josh was slowly able to get around a bit better on his own. 

Slowly being the key description here. 

He wasn’t healing as fast as I would have liked, and I was beginning to worry. Not to mention, it was getting very annoying helping him move around, my arm under his shoulders as we hobbled. He would grumble the entire time, spitting out the word demon every time I came near. 

I was helping him to the kitchen table now, his weight heavy against me when I caught him mumbling, “If it wasn’t for you, I could do it myself like a grown man instead of some baby.” 

I stopped in my tracks, having enough of his ingratitude. He gave me another one of those looks, like I was filthy and a thing to be hated, which yes I know, I am, but I didn’t like seeing it. So I dropped him. I let his ass fall to the hard, wooden floor like a sack of annoying potatoes. 

“Fine!” I shouted. “Feed your damn self then! Take care of your own god dammed ranch! You miserable-” I stormed out before I could say anything else, the screen door slamming behind me with a satisfying bang.

Refusing to let guilt take over me, I saddled up Inferno and took off down the road. I didn’t really know where I was headed, and I didn't really care. 

We rode until sweat foamed on Inferno’s sides, and I was breathless. I pulled back on the reins and slowed him down to a trot, and then to a walk. It wasn’t until I stopped my horse and hopped off, that I realized Hound wasn’t with me. In my furry/urge to run, I went on without him. 

I dropped the reins allowing Inferno to scavenge what vegetation he could from the scorched earth, before pacing around in front of him. 

“Who does that sorry excuse for a cowboy think he is anyway?” I shouted. “More like a  washed up punk rocker with all of those tattoos and piercings, if you ask me.” I stop pacing, placing my hands on my hips as I watched Inferno. The gelding gazed at me with a bored expression, weeds hanging out of his mouth as he chewed. 

“I’m just trying to help him and all he does is yell at me! I should just leave him and let whatever demons come do as they please with him.” I grumble. Inferno snorts as a response.

“What?” 

He just looks at me and stomps his foot, still chewing his food. 

I roll my eyes, “Yes I know all of this is my fault, you don’t need to remind me.” 

Inferno seems satisfied by this and ducks his head again to nibble at some more grass. 

I sigh and plop down onto the ground, plucking absentmindedly at the dry grasses. It’s not like I wanted all of this to get so complicated. Hound and I were supposed to come up here, get the Colt and then be on our merry way to assassinate the devil. I wasn’t supposed to be here for a week and get a human wrapped up in my business. Now, because of me and my enemies, he’s hurt and I’m stuck playing the nanny. 

Inferno snorts again, drawing my attention back to him. I stare into his brown eyes as his soft muzzle munches away. “What do you mean I should tell him about the Colt?” I ask.

Inferno tosses his head in the air in frustration, mane flying and tack jingling. 

I sigh again, “Fine. If you think it will help.” 

I stand from my place on the ground, dusting off my bum, before gathering his reins and hopping back into the saddle. We turn and begin heading back to the house at a quick pace.

When we get back, I don’t see Josh but Hound is waiting for me on the porch. He lopes over to us while I take Inferno into the round pen to cool him down. The beast growls at me half-heartedly, displeased with having been left behind. I scratch behind one of his ears, “Sorry buddy.”

Once Inferno was cooled off, wiped down, and released into the pasture, Hound and I made our way back into the house. Anxious energy whirled in my gut at the thought of coming clean to Josh, but I knew it needed to be done. If I wanted to protect him, I needed him to trust me again, and that started with telling the truth. 

I found him sitting at the kitchen table, both hands cupped around a coffee mug. He didn’t look up as I entered, but pointed to the coffee pot. “There’s more on if you want some,” he said, his tone dry. 

“Thanks,” I said after a moment. I made my way over to the counter and began fixing myself a cup.

“You cooled that horse down right?” Josh’s voice came from behind me.

“Yes.” 

“Did you wipe him and the tack down?”

“Yes.”

“Give him water?”

I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice as I answered again in the affirmative. Josh nodded, seeming satisfied as I sat down across from him at the table.

There was a tense silence between us as we sipped our coffees. I looked out the window and saw Inferno grazing with Sparrow and a few others in the field. Sighing, I worked up the courage to speak to Josh.

“I’m sorry,” I hated that my voice was just above a whisper, as if I was afraid of what this man thought of me. Josh looked up, his steely gaze meeting mine. “I came up here and caused all these problems for you and I’m sorry. None of this was supposed to happen.”

Josh’s gaze softened slightly, but not by much, “What was supposed to happen then?” he asked.

“I told you a little bit about Brendon, right?” I asked, he nodded stiffly. “Well the reason I came to the surface was to find a weapon, the Colt. It’s supposed to have the power to kill anything, even the supernatural.” 

I glanced up to see if Josh was following along. His eyes met mine and there was something within them that I couldn’t quite get a read on. I continued, “Hound thought he smelled it on you, which is why we let you take us here, why I shot your gun that first night. Barns had come to get me and I thought your gun was the Colt. Turns out that it wasn't.”

Josh was quiet for a while, lost in thought. His thumb rubbed along the side of his mug as he stared hard at the table, his dark hair casting shadows across his face. 

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “Look, I’m sorry all of this happened to you. When we first met I didn’t care whether you lived or died as long as I got what I needed. But you’ve been kind to me, and you don’t deserve all the terror I’ve brought to your doorstep.” 

Josh scoffs, “You have a strange way of apologizing.” 

I look down, shame coloring my cheeks. It’s something that has been happening a lot recently. Damn these human emotions. “I’m sorry.”

When Josh didn’t say anything else, I risked a glance at him. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I might have an idea about that gun of yours.”

Hound’s ears perked up from where he rested on the floor, and I felt myself straighten. “Oh?”

Josh looked at me, his brown eyes bright with mischief. “My grandpa used to tell me stories about a weapon that sounds like the one you’re talking about. I always chocked it up to old folklore and never paid it much mind, but I think I might know where it is.”

I rose from my chair in an instant, making it screech against the tiled kitchen floor. “Show me.” I demanded. 

Josh raised his hands in defense, “Hang on now. It’s in a cabin way out on the other side of the property. This isn’t a small ranch, need I remind you. It’s going to be dark soon so there’s no point in going now.” When I huffed in frustration and dropped back into my chair he added, “We can go first thing in the morning. We’ll take my truck.” 

I glowered, but nodded my head nonetheless. One more night here couldn’t hurt. At least Josh didn’t look so angry at me anymore. 

When night finally fell, I helped Josh back to his spot on the couch in front of the fireplace. He preferred to sleep out here instead of his room while he was injured. “Helps me keep an eye on things,” he always said. 

So I sat with him for a while, reading while he listened to some music through fancy looking headphones. Every so often he would raise his arms and drum the air, as if he were the one performing the music. It was entertaining to watch, but I had to keep reminding him of his stitches. 

I was still reading something about wild horses, when Josh gave up on his music. He was laid completely flat on the couch, one arm hanging over the edge as he stared into the flames. “What will happen when you kill him?” he asked quietly. 

“Hm?” 

“When you kill the devil- er- Brendon, what’s going to happen after that?” 

I shrugged. “I’ll get my freedom.” 

Josh didn’t look at me, just played with his dark curls, lost in thought. I went back to reading my book figuring he wouldn’t say any more when he piped up again. “But if he isn’t alive to keep control of Hell, who will?” 

I shrugged again, “Hadn’t really thought about it.”

Josh nodded, but I didn’t miss the look of fear in his eyes. 

Sighing, I put my book down and stood. “Look let’s just focus on finding the Colt and you getting better. I can figure out all of the other stuff later. Nothing for a human to worry about.” 

Josh didn’t meet my eyes, his still transfixed on the fireplace. Hound rose to follow after me as I moved to head to my room when Josh’s hand lightly grasped my wrist. “I’m sorry too.”

I stared down at him in surprise. Josh’s brow furrowed and he continued, “I haven’t been very nice to you since finding out about, well, um-” 

I nodded, not needing him to say it to understand. 

“And well, I was wrong. It was wrong of me to treat you that way and say those things. You can’t help what you are, and you’ve been trying to make up for it and, well, I’m sorry.” 

I felt a soft smile glide across my face as I looked down at this man, this beautiful man. I shifted, his grasp on my wrist sliding down so that I was holding his fingers lightly in mine. We shared a look and I felt something pass between us. Trust maybe? I wasn’t sure, but it made something stir in my chest that I couldn’t quite recognize. 

“Get some sleep,” I said, placing Josh’s hand to lay on his stomach. He nodded and closed his eyes. 

Hound and I went to my room, and I cuddled the black beast to my chest tightly, letting confused thoughts and feelings drift around in my head. I stayed like that for what felt like hours, taking comfort in the fur pressed against my cheek. 

I must have eventually drifted off, because I found myself on a road. It was dark and empty. I was surrounded by trees and snow on either side, my breath coming out in frozen clouds.

I spun, searching for Hound or Josh, or maybe even Inferno, anyone really. I was alone though, and the air was quiet, almost too quiet. I felt my heartbeat quicken, something was wrong.

I saw a pair of lights in the distance, then the sound of an engine reached my ears soon after. A car came barreling towards me and yet I couldn’t move my feet. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice came from behind me. I turned my head but saw no one there. 

“Josh?” I called. 

“Y/N!” his voice shouted, this time from in front of me. 

Josh stood in the middle of the road, wearing ripped clothes that looked like they wouldn't provide any help in keeping out the cold. He shivered, looking around in a daze. Over his shoulder I could see the car coming closer. 

“Josh!” I shouted, “Look out!” 

It was as if he couldn’t hear me. I tried to move closer to him, but my feet remained planted firmly on the road. 

The car was mere seconds away from hitting him now. A scream ripped from my lungs and yet Josh still did not move. I looked away, waiting for the crash, the blood, anything. But when I opened my eyes, all I saw was fire. 

The car was a pile of burning metal, flames reaching high into the sky, smoke billowing into the clouds. I saw a figure move, his face shadowed by smoke. I called out for Josh once more, but was only met with silence. Silence, and red piercing eyes. 

I woke with a start. Hound licked at my face worriedly, a rumbling growl coming from deep within his chest. 

“It’s okay, it was just a dream.” I patted his head, watching as my fingers got lost in his dark fur as I tried to slow my breathing. A shadow moved in my peripherals, and Hound growled again, this time in warning.

The shadow shifted again and my gaze shot up to look at it. Nothing was there. I slowly reached under my pillow feeling for the familiar metal of my demon blade. Again something shifted in the corner of my eye, and when I looked, all I caught was a flash of red. 

“Oh no.” I whispered. It couldn't be, not yet. He couldn't be here. 

I heard the creak of a floorboard outside my room and I jumped to my feet, blade in hand. Hound jumped beside me, his hackles raised and his own red eyes flashing. 

Slowly, we crept to the door. Fear boiled within me, but I let out a quiet breath, trying to steady myself. I opened the door to the little hallway that led into the living room. It was dark and chilly, meaning the fire had long since gone out. 

I didn’t dare speak, I didn’t dare breathe, not if he was here. The air felt charged with a negative energy. It pulsated against my skin and I felt every hair on my body raise in fear. Fear for myself, and fear for Josh. 

I heard a yelp come from the living room. Losing all concern for myself, I ran into the room and my heart immediately froze in my chest. 

Josh stood with a blade to his throat, his arms held behind him at an awkward angle, and all his weight resting on his uninjured leg and his other was held out slightly. Behind him, stood my nightmares incarnate, with a cool expression on his face.

“Tyler.” 

The demon chuckled, pressing his cheek against Josh’s, who struggled against him. “My, my, what a pretty plaything you’ve found for me Y/N.” 

“Let Josh go.” I demanded, my grip so tight on my blade that my fingers went numb. 

Tyler tsked, his red eyes meeting my black ones. “Well if I did that, it would take all the fun out of it. Wouldn’t it Joshie?” Josh grunted as Tyler’ demon blade pressed closer to the sensitive skin of his throat. 

“Let him go and I’ll come with you. I won’t put up a fight.” My voice shook, and I hated myself for it. 

A wide grin sliced across Tyler’s face, cracking it in half. “Mmm but the struggle is half the fun.” Josh’s eyes filed with horror and they locked onto mine, pleading.

I dropped my blade and raised my hands, which made Hound growl ferociously. “Please Tyler.”

The demon cackled, “I like you begging. It suits that pretty face of yours. Brendon will like this new you.” 

I shuddered. Tyler’s voice was soft and sweet, the complete opposite of the type of demon he was. 

Tyler drew the blade across Josh’s throat, just enough to draw blood. Josh grunted in pain and my heart quickened in my chest. “Please Tyler, just let him go!” I was beginning to sound like a broken record. 

Tyler tilted his head, studying me in an almost unnatural way. It sent my nerves on edge. “You want your boy-toy back?” he chuckled. “Then first,” his red eyes flashed menacingly-

”you’ll have to come and find me.”

I leaped forward, a shout of, “No” on my lips. But Tyler and Josh burst into a cloud of smoke before I could reach them. Then, they were gone. 

Josh was gone. 

[subcorax]

fic: you can follow

Fandom: Dishonored Rating: T Pairing(s): Corvo Attano/The Outsider Characters: The Outsider, Billie Lurk, Corvo Attano Tags: post-doto, second person pov Word Count:  1378

Summary: from a boy to a god to a man with too many memories, the outsider learns to live. 

Read on Ao3

you breathe.

it hurts.

.

together the two of you begin to stumble down the mountain and you are silent.

where, then, lies the human soul? a natural philosopher had written once, his fingernails stained with a dead man’s blood, his heart neatly dissected on a tray in search of his very being.

it was of no matter; you know, now. a soul lies in a name and yours echoes in your ears, speaks with every beat of a pulse against your neck, your wrist, your chest.

.

billie says she hopes she won’t have to teach you how to piss. you hope so as well. it has been four thousand years and you have forgotten so very much but the difference between humility and humiliation that you once thought so insignificant has been shown into sharp relief once more, and you do not want this woman to have to teach you that which most children manage by four.

eventually, on shaking colt’s legs, you relieve yourself against a low brick wall.

.

as you are so often wont to do, you think of corvo.

you had watched him in the days after coldridge with some interest – watched as he retched and threw up miniscule mouthfuls of food, watched as small creaks and wooden groans kept him up long nights, watched him stalk the grounds of the hound pits, bewildered, like he couldn’t believe there was so much space in the world.

it was like, you had thought at the time, he had forgotten how to be human.

.

perhaps you have been… arrogant. you have been accused of as much before, but now you put some weight to the argument. perhaps corvo, all scars and bruises and deep-set loss, was far more human than most the day he left coldridge prison.

you have been freed in the most extravagant jailbreak in an eon and a half and you’ve got nothing to show for it but the razor thin scars to show where your shackles were, long since faded to slivers of white against the pink of your skin.

you barely know how to sleep.

.

huddled over a fire in the batista district you tell billie you want to go to dunwall. she laughs humourlessly, calls him a crazy bastard, says daud was right, but she’s got the keys to a ship the next afternoon, which startles you. you had thought she would jump at the chance to part ways with you, to relieve herself of the burden you are posing.

billie lurk has vowed once, twice, thrice, over and over across the years to never return to dunwall, and when the two of you leave karnaca’s docks she is smiling at the sun dipping below the horizon.

.

she has given you food and clothes and vowed to help you reach dunwall tower, and you find yourself thinking of corvo yet again, of the odd little parallels. perhaps, you think sardonically, you should be watching billie for ulterior motives, hidden plots. but there is no future in which billie will stab you in the back to watch you bleed out like any other man, send you floating up the river, and–

and you remember that you cannot see much of anyone’s future, anymore, and yet you are certain of this nonetheless. trust, you think, with some measure of surprise, you trust her and isn’t that another small piece of irony when you had faulted corvo for this exact thing, his thoughtless, easy belief in the men who had saved him.

you wonder if billie will teach you how to apologise, in the weeks to come.

.

you are watching the waves roll from the deck when she wraps the coat around your shoulders, the long, heavy one she’s been wearing more days than not, and you are assaulted by the harsh smell of tobacco and stale smoke.

you remember watching her rifle through her belongings on the dreadful wale, deciding what parts of daud to keep, what she could afford to keep and carry with her, travelling on foot. a few journals, letters, his sword, and the coat, and you had thought, idly, she has a warmer coat, why keep wearing– and only now does sentiment invade you like weeds through cracks in a stone slab because billie lurk grew up tugging at the sleeves of a man who smelled like old smoke and whiskey and you have, as of late, found yourself unerringly, wretchedly attached to anything you can remember of being alive.

you keep the coat on long after the residual heat of billie’s body has faded from it, held captive by a deep longing for memories that are not your own.

.

strange – how many thousands of men have begged you for power, screams clamouring to be heard above the void’s rushing winds, and to corvo it is a gift you will give not once, but twice.

thrice, if you count emily, though corvo does not, still rankles at the danger it poses her when the abbey has long been sniffing at their heels.  

still, still, he had run fingers across the bare skin where the mark had been and when you had offered it to him again he had received it like a benediction.

you had warned him against rooftop escapades at his age, knowing full well that he would retire in one short year to cullero, and you would not live to see it.

.

billie’s face is painted across every street in karnaca, but most of the posters were stripped down in dunwall, and they dock at the wrenhaven port without much trouble, despite the long look billie gives you when you introduce yourself to the inspector as aramis.

.

you both rent a room at a pub to sleep off your sealegs, eat breakfast downstairs the next morning. billie catches you staring across the room to where a sharp-dressed girl is whispering in a busboy’s ear and you find yourself explaining, that those two have whispered like this since they were children, that you have heard every piece of love and loss and intrigue to pass between them, and your voice is half a semblance of the gravity it once held but twice as wistful and you mourn, now i cannot hear anything at all.

billie has been in an odd mood this morning, on-edge and eager like she was when she was a girl, perched precariously on a rooftop and waiting for a signal, for a scream. she smiles, wryly, says, tell me something else you know, and you pause, think, before lamenting that you’d been watching a girl in morley, a bastard child of the king cast out into the streets by his queen.

interesting enough to mark? and there are hooks and barbs in that question that you are unsure how to avoid, so you just shrug, say, no, but if she reaches twenty she will make a bid for her father’s throne. a smile, and, it will cause lady emily no end of problems.

billie is smiling as well when she reminds you that you will still live to see it happen, if you don’t do something stupid.

you wonder what it will be like to be a spectator from here, looking at one corner of a painting and unable to see the whole picture. interesting, you hope.

.

corvo presses two fingers to the pulse on your neck, eyes wide and searching and he is, for a moment, young and desperate, filled with fear and awe and questions and looking to you for answers.

a trick, an illusion? he asks, and you reach up for the hand that has come to cup your cheek. your finger traces your name into dark fabric where you know new scar tissue lies underneath.

you have watched him train since he was a boy, the little crow from the batista district who would love an empress, who would come to love somuch, you have watched every blister and callus form on his hands and it is another thing entirely to feel them moving on the soft skin of your face, down your jaw, to rest across your neck and–

the scar.

.

you breathe, and he breathes with you.

it hurts, and that is what makes a human soul.

[junker-town]

It’s been hard out here for the NFL’s bird teams

Carson Wentz and the Eagles are off to a disappointing start to 2019.

The Eagles and Falcons have major questions to answer after a particularly bad week for our avian friends. And what’s up with the Cowboys’ slow starts?

Birds have had a rough go of it lately. To be honest, they’ve had a rough go of it since 1970, but none of us want to think too hard right now about how North America has lost 3 billion birds in five decades. We’ll leave the panic index for football matters because everything else can be too overwhelming.

This past Sunday, all five bird teams lost in the same week for the first time in at least a decade (there was one week in 2012 when they went 0-3, with two on byes). For some, it was business as usual (sorry, Cardinals). For others, it was their first loss of the year and wasn’t that big of a deal anyway. The Ravens fell on the road to the Chiefs and learned a valuable lesson about themselves, while the Seahawks always manage to get things figured out by the time December rolls around.

It was a little more concerning for the Falcons and Eagles, two teams that entered the season as possible contenders and are just 1-2 through the first three weeks.

Those aren’t the only teams we’re checking in on this week, though. I guess you could say the new panic index isn’t just ... for the birds.

The Eagles are tearing their fans apart!

Eagles fans, bless them, are a passionate flock. This is something we knew last year, when they booed the defending championship exactly one half into the new season. This is something we knew months before that following their Super Bowl victory. Hell, this is something we knew before many of us were even born.

So when the Eagles — a team some were picking to make it to Super Bowl 54 — dropped a home game to the Lions, the fans were unsurprisingly upset.

That includes everyone from an Ivy League dean of admissions:

Can’t stop watching this irate Eagles fan. pic.twitter.com/yzA3DYCgfJ

— Will Brinson (@WillBrinson) September 22, 2019

To a baby-saving hero:

Eagles fans have no chill In the middle of an eyewitness describing how people were saving babies out of a burning building, this fan brings up Eagles drops on @NBCPhiladelphia pic.twitter.com/RCLG5ZdNzw

— John Clark (@JClarkNBCS) September 23, 2019

Go birds.

The Eagles’ lone win of the season so far came against the still-winless Washington, the current betting favorite as the first team to fire its coach. Oh, and Philly was losing that game 17-0, only to rally for a five-point victory — at home.

On the other hand, the Eagles aren’t that far off from being 3-0 either. The margins in their two losses were close: four points to the Falcons on the road, and three points to the Lions. They could’ve won both games on their last possession, and maybe should’ve, if not for self-inflicted wounds like drops and penalties. They are also dealing with so many injuries that they canceled practice one day last week.

Still, Philly is two games back of Dallas in the NFC East standings, and the schedule doesn’t get any easier from here. In the next five weeks, the Eagles hit the road four times: against the Packers, Vikings, Cowboys, and Bills. Through Week 3, those teams are a collective 11-1.

Panic index: You know who else lost to the Lions in Week 3 to slip to 1-2? The 2018 Patriots. Maybe the jawn isn’t falling after all, Eagles fans. There’s still time to turn things around.

Here we go again with the Falcons

Following a disappointing 7-9 season last year, Atlanta was expected to bounce back in 2019 — perhaps even as a potential Super Bowl contender. Its potent offense — featuring the consistently underrated Matt Ryan and the NFL’s best WR, Julio Jones — returned with several new offensive linemen, and the defense was finally healthy again.

But early on, the Falcons look more like the same team from 2018, with injuries and penalties piling up and a lack of cohesion on offense. The Falcons are one of the most talented teams in the NFL, but they just can’t get out of their own way.

In Week 3, they lost to the Colts 27-24 on the road and despite clawing back, Atlanta couldn’t overcome a 20-3 first-half deficit. The bigger problem is how the Falcons keep falling into those holes, mostly due to undisciplined play. From The Falcoholic:

Mental errors are becoming far too common on a weekly basis for the Falcons. You can’t be dependent on converting third and long situations at a staggering rate every week. These careless, unforced penalties will usually come back to haunt any team.

Most of the biggest penalties were committed by the defense. On 16 penalties, the Colts picked up seven first downs.

The Falcons had a lengthy list of injuries after the game, none more costly than safety Keanu Neal’s season-ending Achilles tear.

Offensively, the entire unit is essentially being driven by Jones. Through three games, Jones has four touchdowns, and is averaging 88.3 yards per game. In fact, the Falcons wouldn’t even have a win this season if not for Jones’ superhuman efforts.

Ryan has done a good job of finding Jones when he needs to, but he’s almost thrown as many interceptions this year (six) as he did all of 2018 (seven), which certainly doesn’t help production on offense. Second-year receiver Calvin Ridley is also seeing a curious lack of targets, getting just one against the Colts.

The run game has to get a lot better than it has been early on, too. Devonta Freeman has just 129 yards and no TDs through three weeks. Backup running back Ito Smith has just 11 carries and is concussion protocol. That’s a lot of pressure to put on Ryan and the passing game week in and week out.

Right now, this feels a lot like the same old Falcons.

Panic index: Atlanta’s slow start is particularly concerning given who it has left on the schedule, which includes road trips to Houston and New Orleans, and home games against. the Rams and Seahawks. The offense has time to work out the kinks, and should be able to, based on its strong second half against the Colts.

But if the Falcons can’t clean up their mistakes, they could be out of the NFC South race quickly.

Slow starts are going to eventually bite the Cowboys in the butt

The Cowboys opened the season with an easy three-game slate against the Giants, Washington, and the Dolphins. They’re 3-0 and those three opponents are 1-8, collectively.

Dallas is averaging just over 32 points per game and is allowing just under 15. Everything is peachy keen, except the Cowboys looked pretty shaky early against the tanking Dolphins. At halftime, Miami trailed 10-6 and were even in position to take the lead before Kenyan Drake fumbled inside the Cowboys’ 10-yard line.

Eventually, the Cowboys — who are much, much more talented than the Dolphins — figured things out and cruised to a 31-6 win.

But Dallas had similar issues in the first two weeks. Both New York and Washington scored first to take 7-0 leads against the Cowboys, who then straightened themselves out in and won by double digits each time.

Those slow starts could become a problem, though, and soon. Dallas will face the 2-1 Saints and the 3-0 Packers in the next two weeks and can’t afford to keep stumbling out the gates. It won’t be as easy to pull off a comeback against actual contenders.

Panic index: The second quarter has been Dak Prescott’s best quarter over the course of his NFL career so far. He’s thrown 30 of his 76 career touchdowns in the second quarter compared to just 13 touchdowns in the first quarter. That lends some credence to the idea that the Cowboys have a slow-start problem.

Dallas is doing its best work in the third quarter in 2019, but thrived in the first quarter last year. There’s still plenty of time to channel its 2018 self and get out to faster starts.

Marcus Mariota’s not getting that nine-figure contract extension

Mariota’s been a mercurial figure through four-plus seasons with the Titans. The former No. 2 overall pick has guided Tennessee to winning records in each of the past three years and even has a playoff upset under his belt. He’s also never played a full 16-game schedule, ranked higher than ninth in the NFL in passing efficiency, or been selected to a Pro Bowl roster.

That pendulum swung hard to the negative side in Week 3. Mariota couldn’t find his footing on a rainy night in Jacksonville, throwing for 304 yards but needing 49 dropbacks to get there. He didn’t reach the end zone, but he was sacked nine times behind an offensive line that desperately misses Taylor Lewan (currently serving a four-game PED suspension).

The Titans only scored once in a 20-7 loss that dropped them to the bottom of the AFC South’s pecking order. They’ve totaled just 24 total points since their opening week upset of the Browns in Cleveland.

Once again, Tennessee faces a season in purgatory. The Titans are occasionally good enough to strike fear in the hearts of actual Super Bowl contenders, but not the kind of threat that can make noise beyond the first weekend of the postseason.

The source of the frustration and the heart of the team’s “just good enough to break your heart” status is Mariota, who is staring down free agency after the 2019 season. He was never quite consistent or eye-popping enough to earn the massive contract extension most quarterbacks selected in the top five do before their rookie deals run out. After the loss to the Jaguars, he might wind up searching for a new home next spring.

The Heisman Trophy winner has struggled to build a rapport with his wideouts, especially former fifth overall pick Corey Davis, who has just six catches and 12 targets through three games. No wide receiver has ever recorded a 1,000-yard season with Mariota at the helm. Through three games, only 69.6 percent of his passes have been catchable, per SIS. That number slots him right between Eli Manning and fellow 2015 draftee Jameis Winston toward the bottom of the QB rankings.

If he can’t find the extra gear he’s been searching for over most of the past four seasons, the Titans could be doomed to another year where the best they can hope for is nine wins.

Panic index: Taylor Lewan’s Week 5 return should help a little. Will it be the panacea this team needs? Delanie Walker doesn’t think so:

.@delaniewalker82 loves @TaylorLewan77 but doesn’t think his return in a week is going to fix everything for the #Titans. pic.twitter.com/C7iDry5lmh

— Paul Kuharsky (@PaulKuharskyNFL) September 23, 2019

And he’s probably right.

[avecorviidae]

Fic: you can follow

Fandom: Dishonored Rating: T Relationship(s): Corvo Attano/The Outsider, The Outsider & Billie Lurk | Meagan Foster Word Count: 1378

Ao3 Link

you breathe.

it hurts.

.

together the two of you begin to stumble down the mountain and you are silent.

where, then, lies the human soul? a natural philosopher had written once, his fingernails stained with a dead man’s blood, his heart neatly dissected on a tray in search of his very being.

it was of no matter; you know, now. a soul lies in a name and yours echoes in your ears, speaks with every beat of a pulse against your neck, your wrist, your chest.

.

billie says she hopes she won’t have to teach you how to piss. you hope so as well. it has been four thousand years and you have forgotten so very much but the difference between humility and humiliation that you once thought so insignificant has been thrown into sharp relief once more, and you do not want this woman to have to teach you that which most children manage by four.

eventually, on shaking colt’s legs, you relieve yourself against a low brick wall.

.

as you are so often wont to do, you think of corvo.

you had watched him in the days after coldridge with some interest – watched as he retched and threw up miniscule mouthfuls of food, watched as small creaks and wooden groans kept him up long nights, watched him stalk the grounds of the hound pits, bewildered, like he couldn’t believe there was so much space in the world.

it was like, you had thought at the time, he had forgotten how to be human.

.

perhaps you have been… arrogant. you have been accused of as much before, but now you put some weight to the argument. perhaps corvo, all scars and bruises and deep-set loss, was far more human than most the day he left coldridge prison.

you have been freed in the most extravagant jailbreak in an eon and a half and you’ve got nothing to show for it but the razor thin scars to show where your shackles were, long since faded to slivers of white against the pink of your skin.

you barely know how to sleep.

.

huddled over a fire in the batista district you tell billie you want to go to dunwall. she laughs humourlessly, calls you a crazy bastard, says daud was right, but she’s got the keys to a ship the next afternoon, which startles you. you had thought she would jump at the chance to part ways with you, to relieve herself of the burden you are posing.

billie lurk has vowed once, twice, thrice, over and over across the years to never return to dunwall, and when the two of you leave karnaca’s docks she is smiling at the sun dipping below the horizon.

.

she has given you food and clothes and vowed to help you reach dunwall tower, and you find yourself thinking of corvo yet again, of the odd little parallels. perhaps, you think sardonically, you should be watching billie for ulterior motives, hidden plots. but there is no future in which billie will stab you in the back to watch you bleed out like any other man, send you floating up the river, and–

and you remember that you cannot see much of anyone’s future, anymore, and yet you are certain of this nonetheless. trust, you think, with some measure of surprise, you trust her and isn’t that another small piece of irony when you had faulted corvo for this exact thing, his thoughtless, easy belief in the men who had saved him.

you wonder if billie will teach you how to apologise, in the weeks to come.

.

you are watching the waves roll from the deck when she wraps the coat around your shoulders, the long, heavy one she’s been wearing more days than not, and you are assaulted by the harsh smell of tobacco and stale smoke.

you remember watching her rifle through her belongings on the dreadful wale, deciding what parts of daud to keep, what she could afford to keep and carry with her, travelling on foot. a few journals, letters, his sword, and the coat, and you had thought, idly, she has a warmer coat, why keep wearing– and only now does sentiment invade you like weeds through cracks in a stone slab because billie lurk grew up tugging at the sleeves of a man who smelled like old smoke and whiskey and you have, as of late, found yourself unerringly, wretchedly attached to anything you can remember of being alive.

you keep the coat on long after the residual heat of billie’s body has faded from it, held captive by a deep longing for memories that are not your own.

.

strange – how many thousands of men have begged you for power, screams clamouring to be heard above the void’s rushing winds, and to corvo it is a gift you will give not once, but twice.

thrice, if you count emily, though corvo does not, still rankles at the danger it poses her when the abbey has long been sniffing at their heels.  

still, still, he had run fingers across the bare skin where the mark had been and when you had offered it to him again he had received it like a benediction.

you had warned him against rooftop escapades at his age, knowing full well that he would retire in one short year to cullero, and you would not live to see it.

.

billie’s face is painted across every street in karnaca, but most of the posters were stripped down in dunwall, and they dock at the wrenhaven port without much trouble, despite the long look billie gives you when you introduce yourself to the inspector as aramis.

.

you both rent a room at a pub to sleep off your sealegs, eat breakfast downstairs the next morning. billie catches you staring across the room to where a sharp-dressed girl is whispering in a busboy’s ear and you find yourself explaining, that those two have whispered like this since they were children, that you have heard every piece of love and loss and intrigue to pass between them, and your voice is half a semblance of the gravity it once held but twice as wistful and you mourn, now i cannot hear anything at all.

billie has been in an odd mood this morning, on-edge and eager like she was when she was a girl, perched precariously on a rooftop and waiting for a signal, for a scream. she smiles, wryly, says, tell me something else you know, and you pause, think, before lamenting that you’d been watching a girl in morley, a bastard child of the king cast out into the streets by his queen.

interesting enough to mark? and there are hooks and barbs in that question that you are unsure how to avoid, so you just shrug, say, no, but if she reaches twenty she will make a bid for her father’s throne. a smile, and, it will cause lady emily no end of problems.

billie is smiling as well when she reminds you that you will still live to see it happen, if you don’t do something stupid.

you wonder what it will be like to be a spectator from here, looking at one corner of a painting and unable to see the whole picture. interesting, you hope.

.

corvo presses two fingers to the pulse on your neck, eyes wide and searching and he is, for a moment, young and desperate, filled with fear and awe and questions and looking to you for answers.

a trick, an illusion? he asks, and you reach up for the hand that has come to cup your cheek. your finger traces your name into dark fabric where you know new scar tissue lies underneath.

you have watched him train since he was a boy, the little crow from the batista district who would love an empress, who would come to love so much, you have watched every blister and callus form on his hands and it is another thing entirely to feel them moving on the soft skin of your face, down your jaw, to rest across your neck and–

the scar.

.

you breathe, and he breathes with you.

it hurts, and that is what makes a human soul.