#shes like a sopping wet dog you find on the side of the road

[macncheems]

clarice starling, a lesbian, trying to solve a case with a big magnifying glass: hm. how yurious.

ive been non stop doodling clarice help me

[rotworld]

1: Hellhound

you get an unexpected visitor on the night of a hunt.

->explicit. contains gore, murder, feral behavior, very ambiguous consent (consent not explicitly given but you have a good time), and knotting.

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Molly says there’ll be a hunt tonight.

You’re visiting the village market together when she suddenly stops in the middle of the road, the evening crowd parting around her. Her hands tremble at her sides, her head turned towards the sky. “Do you feel that?” she whispers. “That heat? That prickle in the air? Like a storm, but I know it’s not. They’re coming. Herbs—you need herbs. Can’t be out late.” You don’t feel anything but you take her word for it. They call her Mad Molly, but only when you aren’t around to smack some sense into them. Not just anyone survives being stranded outside on the night of a hunt. You’d like to see them try.

“How do you tell the difference?” you ask her. “Between a storm and a hunt?” 

Molly taps her nose. “The smell,” she says. “Storms are wet. Earth and sky. Hunts are something else. Try and see.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Crisp autumn air fills your lungs. You smell the savory aroma of meat pies, the musk of herbs, the sharp scent of pickled vegetables, but nothing like what Molly describes. You trip on an uneven patch of road and she catches you, snickering. Somehow, she’s still twice as graceful as you, even without her eyes.

Dusk settles in the sky by the time you reach Molly’s. She gives you a basketful of herbs from her garden, flowering purple stalks of betony and clary sage. “Put the dill and rosemary over your door. The betony, you’ll want that once the night’s through. Clary sage is for the eyes, but you knew that already.” She sends you off with a stern reminder, “Stay inside. Lock your doors. And don’t get in their way.” She taps the side of her face, the whorls of scar tissue where her eyes used to be. “But don’t be scared,” she says quietly. “They can be surprisingly gentle.”

It’s a long trek home from Molly’s, back through the woods and the village square. The shadows are long and the sky dim. Children chase each other, chickens run loose, and a couple of persistent women haggle with the butcher for cured meats. But when the church bells toll, everything changes. Fear grips the market. People scatter like frightened animals. Stalls are hastily abandoned, artisan goods trampled in the streets. Doors slam and windows are shuttered. A town crier rings his hand bell and shouts to be heard over the commotion. He, too, is running. “Hear ye, hear ye! The hounds come to hunt this eve!” You catch glimpses through the stampede, fur like night sky and eyes like burning coals. The beasts come pouring from dark places, shaking the clinging shadows from their coats. You smell ash and sulfur, see the heat haze fizzling around their claws. The howling starts. You’ve never run so fast in your life.

They’re everywhere, slinking through the alleys and prowling between the trees. You see them watching, waiting, their gazes burning into you as you pass. You wonder if this is how sheep feel under the scrutiny of herd dogs. The crowd thins the further you go from town until you’re alone in the woods, sprinting for the soft glow of a lantern left outside your front door. You’re breathless when you stumble inside, hunched over, legs aching. You realize, belatedly, that you lost your basket of herbs somewhere in the chaos, but you’ll manage without. All you need right now is some tea. 

The water is just starting to boil when you hear an ungodly commotion, a wet sound, a clattering, banging and screaming. It takes you a moment to come out from beneath your table and realize someone is knocking frantically at your door, begging for help. “Please, please help me, please I don’t, I don’t want to die, please—!”

Cautiously, you peer through the foggy glass. You can just make out a young man standing there. You open the door and the sight of him churns your stomach. Vicious claw marks cut through one side of his face, leaving the flesh mangled and hanging limp. That wet sound is the splatter of blood every time he moves, dribbling from his face and his hands. The hounds will smell that, clamor for a taste of it. “I didn’t know,” he sobs. “I’m not from here, I didn’t—I had no idea what it meant! The bells started ringing and everyone ran, and I—I don’t have anywhere to go!”

You let him in. He comes stumbling through and collapses, sinking to his knees against the wall. His cloak is torn and the clothes underneath ragged, everything saturated with blood. The first thing you do is clean the wound and cover him in gauze and bandages, anything to staunch the flow and cover the metallic scent. He croaks miserably, pale as death. You aren’t sure he’ll make it through the night, but you’ll do what you can.

“The bells mean there’s a hunt on,” you tell him, sopping up a red, watery mess oozing from his chin. It makes little difference now, but if it were you, you’d want to know. “The hounds are just doing their job, hunting for monsters and infernal things. But we have to be careful. They’ll attack anything that gets between them and their prey, and blood excites them.” 

“Monsters?” the young man says weakly. “Infernal things? What does that mean?” 

You shrug. “I’ve never seen one. It’s just what I’ve heard.” 

“Then how do you even know it’s true? What if they’re just running amok out there, killing whoever they want?” 

“I just know,” you insist. It’s a common rumor whispered around the village; humans are the real prey. The stories of monsters are just to keep them obedient, never getting in the way of a hunt. But Molly told you it’s not like that. She said she saw something. The hounds, she whispered, weren’t what took her eyes.

“Doesn’t that scare you?” the young man presses. “Not knowing what a monster even looks like? Whether or not you’d recognize one if you saw it?” Thin, bony fingers wrap around your wrist. He has claws, you realize, your heart skipping a beat. “It should,” he purrs. His teeth are inhumanly sharp. Eyes flutter open and shut along the uninjured side of his face, yellow and glowing like a creature of the night. He stands, suddenly steady on his feet. Your blood runs cold as you understand that his corpse-like complexion is natural. More hands unfold from beneath his tattered cloak and slam you back against the wall. 

“Let me go,” you say quickly, a frightened tremor sneaking into your words.

The monster you let into your home leans in close, smirking. A long, forked tongue slithers along your jaw. “I don’t think so,” he hisses. “I’m staying until sunrise. If the hounds come, you will send them away. If you don’t…” His jaw cracks at the joints, unhinging, his mouth opening even wider revealing a maw lined with rows upon rows of teeth. “Then there will be nothing left of you come morning.” Just like that, he drops you, watching you squirm on the floor with cold amusement. “Get up,” he says. “We have to prepare.” He doesn’t wait for you to begin shoving furniture against your door, lifting the heavy oak table as though it weighs nothing. You slowly climb to your feet and stand there, paralyzed.

“It won’t work,” you say.

He stops, dropping a chair and letting it clatter loudly to the floor. You regret speaking when those eyes flutter open in shut again, fixing you with an unnerving glare. Silently, he slinks towards you, backing you into a corner. “It will,” he says lowly. “You’ll turn them away or you’ll die. It’s that simple.” 

You swallow a ball of cold, hard dread stopping up your throat. He doesn’t understand. There is no turning away a hound. A long howl cuts through the silence and you both look at the door. Another howl rises in answer, much closer than the first. A glow like distant fire burns in the woods. The monster grabs you with three hands and shoves you closer to the door. It stands behind you, draped against your back with a claw pressed threateningly against your throat. You hear a beast’s trotting steps, leaves crunching along the path to your home. A large silhouette looms outside. There’s sniffing, and then a low growl. Something scrapes against your front door.

“Huuuuuman,” comes a low, velvety purr.  It almost sounds like a man, distinctly masculine but with a deep, animalistic rumble coloring every sound. “I see you standing there. Good evening.” 

“G...good evening,” you manage to stammer through the shock and fear. You had no idea hounds could speak. You can’t make out a face, canid or otherwise, but you see his eyes glowing in the dark, red and blazing. 

“I smell something delicious,” the hound says. “May I come in? I think you might have an uninvited guest and not even know it.”

You take too long to reply. You hear the sound of flesh peeling, the monster’s jaw unhinging behind your head, and scramble to force out the words, “There’s no one here but me!” 

The hound lowers itself. You hear more sniffing, see unnatural shadows swirling beneath your door and seeping into the house. “Are you certain, human?” the hound says. “I’m not often wrong.”

“I’m sure,” you say, as firmly as you can with hot saliva dribbling on your shoulders. You hear one last frustrated, sniff, a huff, and then the hound’s footstep’s retreating as he slinks back the way he came. Neither you nor the monster can quite believe it at first, remaining perfectly still until the fiery glow dissipates and everything is dark outside. The next howl is far, far away. 

“Good,” the monster mutters, sounding nearly as exhausted as you feel. He shoves you away and begins throwing anything else he can find into the barricade. “Now help me with this—”

He smells it only a second before you do. Sulfur. Burning. Hellfire. The unearthly glow sparks to life right outside your door once again. Time slows to a crawl as the monster turns, looking back at you with a snarl frozen on his half-mangled face. All of his eyes open wide and you hear just the beginning of a frightened whimper before flames erupt from the barricade. The fire is red like blood and the force of it bursting through knocks the monster back, sending him sprawling to the ground where it circles him, engulfs him like a living thing and eats him alive.

You can’t tear your eyes away as the flames take the shape of the biggest dog you’ve ever seen, wolf-like and ferocious, one massive paw on the monster’s chest as its maw tears his belly open and rips into his guts. The terrible, sharp stench of death seemingly burns away, overpowered by cleansing smoke and fire. The screams will haunt you for the rest of your life.

When you come back to your senses, the inferno has disappeared. Rings of scorch marks are seared into the floor around a charred corpse so horribly mutilated you couldn’t begin to guess at what it once was. A man crouches over it, licking his bloodied lips. You know he’s the hound. His wild hair writhes with shadows and the fire is still burning in his eyes. He turns to you, stands to his full height, and you fight to keep your gaze respectfully above his collarbones as you realize he’s completely naked. He takes a step towards you. You take two stumbling back.

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” you say, helpless. If he decides to kill you, there’s nothing you can do. “He told me to lie to you. He threatened me.”

“Lucky for you, you’re a terrible liar,” the hound sneers. He stalks towards you like you’re prey, a snarl pulling at the corner of his lips exposing the teeth that just tore the monster apart. “Did no one ever teach you not to open your door to strangers on the night of a hunt?”

“I didn’t know!” Any further excuses die on your tongue when he shoves you, barely more than a gentle push on his part but it knocks you to the ground. He’s on you before you can squirm away and you realize suddenly just how big he is. He’s enormous, a good head taller, all rippling muscle and faded scars. And he’s—you don’t look, but you can feel that he’s hard. His cock twitches where it’s nestled between your bodies, smearing precum on your clothes. “Please don’t...don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to,” he says, but it certainly stings a bit when he rakes his claws down your body and shreds through your clothes. He ignores your protests as he shoves the fabric aside and then his hands are on you. He has claws like the monster, but even thicker and more frightening. Somehow, they barely graze you even as he caresses your skin. You flinch when he leans in suddenly, but he doesn’t bite you. He’s smelling you, you realize. His nose grazes the hollow of your throat and he licks you, a rumble building in his chest. “This is what I smelled,” he murmurs. 

You don’t understand. He doesn’t bother to explain, either, but he pulls back far enough to meet your eyes. You expect him to reek of sulfur, but without the fire, there’s only the lingering scent of the forest. His gaze wanders your body and he presses his hand against your chest, right over your pounding heart. 

“I want you,” he purrs. “I’m going to have you.” You nod shakily. What are you going to do, fight him about it? You just watched him burn his way into your house and kill somebody in a flurry of fire and entrails. “Turn over. Let me taste what’s mine.” You hesitate. He doesn’t ask twice. You’re flipped unceremoniously onto your stomach, breath catching in your throat when he tugs your hips higher. 

You feel his breath, scalding like chimney air, against your sex. The wet press of his tongue on your flesh makes you flinch and whimper. It’s hotter than you expected. The warmth is just shy of painful. You bury your face in your arms, face heating in embarrassment, as he laps at your sex like he’s starving for it, saliva dribbling down his chin. You find yourself shivering, moving back against his face, whining when his hands catch your hips and hold you in place. 

You think that growl is pleased, almost affectionate. He adjusts his position ever so slightly, his thumbs pressing into tender flesh to spread you open. And then his tongue is inside of you. You cry out in shock, the sensation foreign and overwhelming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. His tongue is long and thick, twisting inside of you, opening you wider as he makes encouraging sounds. “That’s it,” he hisses, licking a lazy circle around your entrance. “That’s it, human. Let me in.”

It’s not long before you’re shivering in his grasp, gasping, even begging. You hear a chuckle, feel his tongue leave you empty and wanting. “You’re ready,” he murmurs. You hear a slick sound. His hand on his cock, maybe, but you don’t get the chance to look and see. His claws land heavily on your head, shoving your face into the floor. He’s going to fuck you like an animal. The thought drifts almost absently through your head as he mounts you, blankets your back with his body and begins rutting his hips against you. His length, hot and pulsing, shoves between your thighs in teasing thrusts, letting you feel how thick he is. What can only be a knot drags against your sex, the friction making you whine. “Do you want me, human?” he growls. “Do you hunger as I do?” 

You make a noise, something humiliating, needy, more animal than human. It’s exactly what he wants. With a playful bite to the nape of your neck, he presses his cockhead against you. He pushes slowly, patiently, his hands smoothing along your sides. You hear him speaking against your skin, rumbling into the side of your neck or your shoulder. The words are low and indistinct but you feel the intent behind them, the desire in every sound. “Fuck me,” you beg him. He makes a bestial sound and with a harsh, forward motion, spears you on his cock. 

It’s blinding, the pain and the pressure, but it’s so good, so filling. Your fingers scrabble over the floor with nothing to hold onto. The hound rocks his hips, driving into you harder and faster, building a rhythm that makes you see stars. “Fuck, just like that,” he pants against your ear. “You take me like you were made for me.” He sinks deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. You can feel him in your stomach, can see the bulge of him through your skin. It’s impossible to hold your voice in, every thrust dragging a yelp or a whimper from your lips. “Don’t hold back,” he growls, nipping at your ear. “Scream for me. I want my brothers to hear you. I want the whole village to know you’re mine.” 

You won’t last long, and neither will he. The exhaustion of the night catches up with you, the primal terror, the relief, the lust burning in your veins. You feel the hound losing rhythm as he loses himself to his frenzy, groaning and growling, driving into you with bruising thrusts. He tries to force his knot inside of you and it won’t fit, you’re sure it won’t. You try to tell him it won’t and he makes a truly inhuman sound, a laugh and a bark and a roar all at once. One of his claws lands on your head again, keeping you trapped and still as he rotates his hips and pushes harder, fucks you harder, drives his cock as deep inside as he can get.

The sound is small. The muted, wet pop of something locking into place. But the sensations are too much, too good, too painful. The force of your orgasm nearly leaves you unconscious. You feel him cum, hear him let out a long moan as his hips move in frantic little thrusts against your ass. He stuff you full and collapses on top of you, his legs hooked inside of yours. You gasp for breath as he keeps rutting, still riding the high of his climax. You smell blood. You feel his jaw come unclamped from the space between your neck and shoulder, his tongue lapping gently at the wound. 

He shifts slightly and your hips are dragged with him, the pull on your insides making you wince. “Sorry. We won’t be going anywhere for a while,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your hair. He soothes you with a hand along your side, peppering kisses between your shoulders. “Hunt’s not over. I’ll have to leave as soon as I’m able. Are you well? I didn’t hurt you?”

You don’t feel terrible, all things considered. There’s a deep soreness that might bring regret in the morning, but mostly you’re content. His heat, the fire at the core of his being, dampens the worst of the pain. There must be some magic at work. You can’t believe he’s still inside you. “I’m okay,” you say slowly.

“Good.” The hound nuzzles his face against you, taking in your scent again. You could almost call the behavior affectionate or gentle, a stark difference from how he fucked you earlier. 

Molly’s words come back to you, the strange little smile on her face. You have some questions for her in the morning.

[feral-dumbass]

Neon Angels on the Road to Ruin

James “Bucky” Barnes/ Steve Rogers / Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is on the phone with Steve when he decides he has to have you now. 

Includes: Exhibitionism (???), Polyamorous relationship, Masturbation, Unprotected Sex, Overstimulation, Dom/ Sub undertones, Talk of oral, The stealth suit

Words: 2,008 

A/N: Hi! The only thing I love more than super soldiers is women in rock, so let’s pretend to be surprised that this my second fic with title credit to The Runaways. As always tagging the homies @babybluestan​ @gagmebucky​ @heresyoursnackdumbass​

LMK if you guys still want a tag list!

Masterlist

“Mhmm… Pfft, everyone knows to ambush at night. Where did these rookies come from?” Bucky speaks to Steve on the phone as he looks over reports. Steve was currently ranting about how quickly the mission with new recruits went south. Bucky wanted to be a good boyfriend and help Steve out as the reports started piling up. Man, is Bucky happy he’s helping Steve. Steve is making the recruits sound like dumbasses. It’s a shame Bucky will have to put them through the wringer come Monday. 

Bucky has had to reread Clint’s shitty sentence twice while Steve rants. He can feel his brain cells deteriorating as he tries to read the report. He’s passed multiple stick figure drawings and that was just the first page. 

Commotion from you allows Bucky to move his eyes away from the eyesore. You take a break from typing away on your computer to scratch your bare thigh. Even after you hand leaves the spot where the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt is touching your thigh, his eyes are boring holes into it. You’re sitting sideways in Steve’s reading chair, bare legs thrown over the armrest. Your soft, smooth legs shine under the light and Bucky’s hand twitches. He can practically feel your thighs underneath his hands as he spreads your legs. Not like he wasn’t just between them like an hour ago. 

Memories of you coming on his cock fill his brain as blood rushes south. He moves up to your face. You’re biting your lip in concentration as you type out a scientific article. They’re still slightly swollen from Bucky. It’s not Bucky’s fault you’re a really good kisser and he just wants to kiss you 24/7.

With the sight of the wide collar of his shirt displaying previous hickeys and little bit of your cleavage, Bucky’s ripping out a page of Clint’s report. It was shitty. Steve was gonna make him redo it anyways. He balls up the piece of paper and throws it at you as Steve continues his star spangled rant in his ear.

Everyone knows Bucky’s aim is good. He hits you right on your forehead with it. You turn to glare at him. As you blink slowly at him, he points down to his crotch. You scoff and laugh at him. Bucky moves and cups the phone away from his mouth. 

“Come hop on this dick.” Maybe Bucky said something wrong because you go back to your computer. “Please.” He tries giving his best puppy dog look, wide eyes and mouth turned into a pout. If it works on Steve, it should work on you.

“Oh my god,” Bucky‘s heart flutters as you laugh when you speak. ”I’m saving my work. Give me a minute.” 

“What was that, Buck?” Steve has stopped his rant to ask Bucky a question.

“Oh, she was just checking on the spelling of adamantium.” Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off you as you shut your laptop and stand up, putting the computer in your seat. You stretch out your arms and your underwear is on full display for him. 

“Oh,” is all Steve says before going back to his rant. You walk over to Bucky, hips swaying side to side. Bucky is hastily putting Steve on speaker and setting his phone on the mahogany desk. He takes your hand and pulls you on his lap. You throw your arms over Bucky’s shoulders and give him a sweet kiss as he rubs your back. His hand is slowly pushing up the shirt up your back so he can make more skin contact. 

“He’s really going on a rant, isn’t he?” You speak lowly and glance back at Bucky’s phone. Bucky takes your chin between his fingers and turns you to face him. 

“Ignore him.” Bucky kisses you senselessly. It doesn’t take him long to deepen the kiss, tongue swiping out to invade your mouth. You moan as his other hand moves to play with the hem of your panties. 

“You guys know I can hear you, right? You’re making out as I tell Bucky about the worst few days of my life. Unbelievable.” Bucky breaks away from you to reply and you trail after his lips. He smirks as he talks.

“ ‘M sorry, Stevie. You should see our sweet girl right now. Been walking around in my t-shirt with no pants for the past hour. All her hickeys are on display. She looks extra kissable too. Bet she’s even already wet, again, too. Are you wet for me, sweetheart?” Your eyes are stuck on Bucky’s lips, watching the way they move as he speaks. You nod. “Gotta speak up, babe. Stevie’s gotta hear too.”

“Y-yes. I’m wet. I think Bucky should feel for himself, though.” You grab his metal hand and slide it into the front of your underwear. Bucky reaches further down to where you ache for him.

At the feel of your sopping folds as he slides his fingers through the mess between your thighs, Bucky groans out. “She definitely wasn’t lying.” Bucky kneads your sex harder and your breath hitches. 

Steve inhales and exhales loudly through the phone. “I hate you. I hate you both. You’re killing me.” 

“What do you say doll? Want to kill him even more and let him hear me wreck that sweet pussy even more?” Butterflies rumble in your stomach. Even if Bucky wasn’t going to fuck yoou, you were going to ride his thigh. You find yourself nodding your head adamantly through the pleasure as Steve speaks. 

“I can’t believe I’m asking, but even more? What do you mean?” Steve’s brain is definitely fried from dealing with everyone’s bullshit.

“It was rare for me to be out of this tight, little cunt. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” As Bucky talks, he’s sliding his two of his fingers inside of you and finding those sensitive spots inside of you. 

“B-Bucky, please.” You whimper as he pumps his fingers expertly. Bucky isn’t lying. He’s fucked you until you’re overworked and sensitive. It doesn’t take much to start to feel the rise of your orgasm.  

“What’s wrong, babygirl?” His metal thumb circles your clit. “You gonna be a good slut and cum for me and Steve? You know what? Why don’t you ask Steve if you can cum?” 

“Steve, please. P-please, can I come?” No hesitation as you start to beg. 

“Let her cum, Buck.” Bucky doubles his effort, pumping his fingers at faster speed. You hold onto his bicep for dear life, nails digging crescent shapes as your muscles tense. You reach your peak.

“FUCK!” You curse in between breathy moans. Bucky lets you ride out your orgasm before he slips his fingers out of you and into his mouth. He takes his fingers out with a pop, loud enough for Steve to hear. 

“How does she taste?”

“Like fucking candy.” Steve is groaning and a door slamming in the background breaks the trance between you and Bucky. 

“I hope you guys are happy. I’m gonna jerk it out in a supply closet like some kind of creep because you two couldn’t wait twenty fucking minutes to stop fucking like bunnies.” 

“Well, you head the Captain. Let’s give him something good to listen to. C’mon and fuck me.” You look at Bucky expectantingly. 

“Fuck.” Bucky’s groaning as he sets you on your feet. Before you can blink, he’s yanking his shirt off you and standing up to his full height. You only have a few seconds to look up at him before he’s turning you around and picking you up by the waist to roughly place on Steve’s desk. Your feet barely graze the ground with your breasts against the cool wood. Bucky doesn’t make you wait for long. Before you can process it, Bucky is moving your underwear to the side and  sliding his cock into you.  You’ve had his cock enough this weekend. He doesn’t let you adjust just starts off at a brutal pace that’s already making you see stars. The smacking of your  skin echoes through the room. You have no doubt it carries through the phone.

“S-steve.” 

He moans at how wrecked you sound already. “Yeah, baby? Bucky making you feel good?”

“So good.” You whimper. Your back arches as you scramble to get a hold of the smooth surface of the desk. Bucky notices and takes your hand down to reach his thigh. Your fingers dig into his skin. You can feel his muscles contract underneath your fingertips as he thrusts into you. “So fucking good, Bucky.” Even with your ears ringing, you’re able to hear the tell tale signs of skin slapping skin on Steve’s line. Bucky is too focused on your praise to make fun of him for it, thrusting into you with vigor. He tugs on your hips so you’re hanging more off the table. You whimper out as Bucky reaches around you for your clit, rubbing in fast circles.

“Jesus Christ, you sound so pretty. I wish I was there.” 

“What would you do, Stevie?” Bucky pants as he speaks. “It sure would be great if you were here to take her mouth. The wet heat of her mouth is almost as good as her pussy. She can barely deepthroat your massive cock. It’d be a great show.” Bucky’s palm smacks down on your ass cheek. It’s almost as if he knows your mouth is watering at the thought. 

“Bucky!” Your hips buck at the stinging feeling  of metal.

“You’re the biggest fucking tease, Bucky. I should put your mouth to good use.” Bucky’s thrusts falter for a few seconds before his pace picks back up. Well, Bucky definitely wants his mouth used like a whore and you can’t really blame him. There’s something special in letting Captain America facefuck you, firm grip on the back of your head as he makes you take as much of his length as you can. 

The thought has your orgasm approaching quicker than you thought as drool starts to pool on the desk. The sight of your muscles tensing and the feel of your nails digging harder into his thigh has Bucky doubling his efforts, angling to hit your sensitive depths with every thrust and rubbing your clit even faster. 

“Cum for us. Remind Steve how pretty you sound when you cum.”  

“Cum for us, angel. Be a good girl.” 

With the sound of both of your boyfriends begging in low, deep voices for release, your orgasm overcomes you rather quickly. Your breathy moans fill the room as you pant. Your legs are so shaking so hard, Bucky has to make sure you don’t fall off the desk as he fucks you through your orgasm. You can barely make out Steve groaning into the phone as you moan out his name. 

When you manage to catch your breath over the oversensitivity Bucky is putting you through, a mischievous grin spreads across your face as he thrusts get sloppy. “You close, Bucky? I think you should ask Stevie if you can cum.”

“You heard the woman.” 

“Steve, I swear to fucking God if you don’t let me cum-”

“Nicer.” 

“Please, can I cum?”

“I think you know what I’m looking for, Bucky.”

“Please, can I cum, sir?” 

“See that wasn’t so hard. Go ahead.” With his permission, you can feel Bucky spill his warmth as you whimper. His groaning sends shivers down your spine as he roughly yanks your hips to meet cock in the last few thrusts. 

Everyone takes a few minutes to catch their breath before Steve is speaking out again. “The weirdest fucking part about this is that I haven’t had time to switch out of my stealth suit.” A moan slips out of your mouth on accident as you clench down on Bucky. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Did she just-”

“Yep.” 

“I want you both naked waiting for me on our bed. 15 minutes. Try not to fuck each others brains by then.” Steve abruptly hangs up after that leaving you and Bucky to scramble to the bedroom. 

[redex-writes]

If you are still doing fic request, AWO , Vincent/Leo Adopting a rescue dog( can be any breed)

Me, sobbing: please just let me write some short fluff This prompt, holding a gun to my head: plot or perish.

I’m sorry for making this so long ^^’ Anyways, this prompt killed me in every conceivable way, so thank you! It was genuinely fun to write, and I hope you like it!!

CW: (Very brief) description of animal neglect

“Leo, what the hell is this?”

Leo blinked at him, for all the world looking like an innocent man—despite the sopping wet, blanket-wrapped retriever he had just returned home with.

“I know it’s been like eighty years since you were in school,” he said, “but this, Vincent, is what they call a dog.”

“Funny,” Vincent deadpanned. He closed the door behind Leo to keep out the nearly torrential rain, grimacing when Leo knelt to place the shivering dog on the ground.

“May I ask why you thought it would be a good idea to bring a stranger’s dog into our house in the middle of a record-breaking rainstorm?”

Leo was already discarding the filthy blue blanket, tossing it to the side; it landed with a wet plop by Vincent’s feet, and he cringed.

“I don’t think she belongs to anyone,” he said, carefully running his fingers through the matted fur around the dog’s neck. “No collar. Besides, just look at her.”

Vincent had to admit that the dog did look rather worse for wear; its fur was tangled and muddy, and it was definitely quite thin. It looked up at him with big brown eyes, as if it were agreeing with Leo.

“Still,” he said, eyeing it warily, “you don’t know where it’s been. It could have fleas, or rabies, or god knows what else.”

Leo looked up at him, and Vincent was caught off guard by the intensity of his glare.

“So what, you wanna just kick her back out on the street into the rain?”

“Christ--no, Leo.” Vincent frowned, feeling a bit like he was being scolded. “But you need to think about stuff like this before you do it. We should take it to the shelter.”

Leo gave him an incredulous look.

“Are you kidding? Vince, half the city’s shut down from this rain; even if the shelter was open, there’s no way we’d be able to get there in this weather.”

“Well, we can’t just keep it here!”

“Why not?”

Vincent grit his teeth, resisting the urge to snap at him.

“Well, number one, we’re renting this house. Do you even know what the policy is on pets?”

“Do you?” Leo countered. Vincent took a deep breath.

“Number two: if it was a stray, there’s no telling what it could’ve picked up out there.”

“I’m not asking you to stick your head in her mouth,” Leo snapped. “We wash our hands regularly and make sure she doesn’t get into any of the food.”

Vincent pointed at him.

“Three: what will we feed it? It’s not like we keep dog food laying around.”

Leo huffed.

“Dogs can eat other stuff too, you know. And as soon as the rain dies down, I can run to the store and pick something up.”

“As soon as the rain dies down, we’re taking it to a shelter,” Vincent said firmly.

They stood in tense silence for a few moments, glaring. Finally, Leo sighed.

“Fine. But until then, she stays here.”

Vincent pursed his lips. It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t like there was much of a choice.

“Fine.”

-

Leo insisted on giving the dog a bath that night, which Vincent didn’t protest--if they were going to be keeping it in the house, it might as well not be dripping mud everywhere.

Deciding to make himself useful, he opened the linen closet and started rifling through it to find some old towels or sheets they could use for a makeshift bed. Once he’d gathered a suitable pile, he made his way back down the hall. Passing the partly-open bathroom door, the sound of laughter caught his attention, and he peeked inside.

The bathroom was positively soaked--the floor, the towels, and Leo himself. He was kneeling next to the bathtub, holding a bottle of dish soap in one hand and trying to keep the dog at bay with the other. It had obviously perked up since coming into the warm house, trying to lick at Leo’s face while he scrubbed it down.

“C’mon, cut it out,” Vincent heard him chuckle. “Gotta get you all nice and clean, then you can have a little something to eat. That sound good to you?”

As if it could understand him, the dog’s tail gave a happy little wag. Leo grinned.

“Thought so.”

Vincent eased the door shut, a strange warmth in his chest.

-

To Vincent’s dismay, the rain hadn’t let up by the next morning. If anything it had gotten worse, dark clouds hanging low in the sky and the almost constant sound of rain against the windows echoing through the house.

“Said on the news that lots of roads are flooded,” Leo told him as he sat down with his toast and coffee. Vincent grimaced.

“No doubt. At this rate, even when it clears up it’s going to be a few days before everything’s dry again; not to mention how many basements have flooded, too.”

“At least we don’t have a basement to flood,” Leo joked. Vincent rolled his eyes, hiding his fond smile behind his cup of coffee.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when he felt something furry brush against his bare foot. He looked under the table to see the dog laying curled against Leo’s feet, sleeping quietly.

“Leo, why is it under the table?”

Leo shrugged.

“She wandered in while I was making breakfast. I think the storm’s scaring her; she hasn’t let me out of her sight since I got up.”

Vincent sighed, taking another look under the table. The dog definitely looked better since Leo gave it a good clean up the night before, and he figured that with some proper food and rest it would start to look like itself again.

Once they got it to the shelter, of course.

As if reading his mind, Leo piped up.

“She’s brightened up a bit since I found her. And she’s housetrained, which means someone did own her at one point.”

Vincent hummed, frowning.

“Wonder why they’d just abandon it like that.”

Leo huffed.

“I don’t know, but if I ever find them I’m going to kick their ass so hard they’ll be shitting out of their ears.”

Vincent snorted, failing to hide his grin.

“Classy.”

“I’m just saying,” Leo defended, raising his hands, “anyone who does that shit deserves to be put in their goddamn place.”

“Agreed.” While Vincent may not have been thrilled about their unexpected house guest, he wasn’t a monster.

The dog snuffled in its sleep, its tail flopping against Vincent’s foot.

-

“Vincent!”

Leo’s call rang out from the living room. Startled, Vincent poked his head inside.

“What?”

He was sitting on the couch, grinning excitedly and holding the old banjo they’d fixed up some months prior. The dog was sitting a few feet away, and it cocked its head curiously as Vincent entered the room.

“Watch this.”

Leo began to strum the banjo, playing a simple tune. As Vincent watched, the dog cautiously started walking towards the couch. Leo paused, and the dog stopped, then started again when he continued to play. He did that a few times, playing some sort of musical ‘red light, green light’ with the dog, until it was right at his feet. It laid its head on Leo’s knees, looking up at him as he finished the tune with a mellow strum.

Vincent couldn’t deny the way his heart warmed at the sight, but he still clapped sarcastically.

“Congratulations. You’re the pied piper of stray dogs.”

Leo didn’t react to the teasing as he scratched behind both of the dog’s ears, grinning at the happy thump of its tail against the carpet.

“Y’know, she looks like a Banjo.”

Vincent stared at him. “Leo, we’ve been rained in for less than a day. It’s way too early for you to be confusing animals with musical instruments.”

Leo gave him a look. It took a moment for his meaning to sink in, but when it did, Vincent’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, no. No, no no no. Leo, you are not naming it.”

“Why?” Leo ruffled the dog’s ears.

“Because we’re not keeping it.”

Tension thickened the air, the only sound the rain pounding against the window. Leo set his jaw.

“Yeah, you’ve made that plenty clear by now.”

Something in his voice made Vincent falter, but before he could analyze it, Leo was standing and brushing past him out of the room, leaving him alone with the dog.

Vincent sighed. The dog looked up at him, and Vincent had the distinct feeling he was being judged.

“Shut up,” he muttered to no one in particular.

-

Leo avoided him the rest of the day. By the time Vincent was able to get him to stay in the same room, he had already fallen asleep on the couch. The dog was, of course, laying on the floor next to him; it looked up when Vincent walked over.

He sighed, sinking down to the floor and leaning against the couch. Leo’s hand was hanging down by his face, and he gently lifted it and placed it on the cushion beside his head, giving it a fond pat.

A weight in his lap startled him. He looked down to see the dog looking up at him with big brown eyes, and he gave a reluctant smile.

“It’s not your fault,” he muttered, giving the dog a few gentle pats. “I’m...not used to dogs.”

The dog, of course, just stared. Vincent laughed under his breath.

“He loves you already, though. You must not be so bad.”

His smile fell, and he sighed.

“Though, maybe I’m not the best example.”

As if she could sense his sadness, the dog nuzzled closer to him and closed her eyes. With a soft hum, Vincent scratched her behind the ear as he leaned back against the couch.

“Not so bad at all.”

-

Despite Vincent being the one who fell asleep on the floor, Leo looked like the walking dead as he dragged himself into the kitchen the next morning. Vincent looked up at him from where he leaned against the counter, giving him an amused once-over.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Leo grumbled. Vincent chuckled into his cup of coffee--at least he didn’t seem upset anymore.

“I hope you’re planning on changing your clothes before we go.”

Leo frowned at him, blearily rubbing his eyes.

“What?”

Vincent gestured to the window, where the heavy rainclouds had been replaced by a bright blue sky.

“Rain’s let up, and I called ahead to the shelter.”

Leo seemed to deflate.

“Oh. Right.”

“...They redirected me to the veterinarian, but luckily they’re open too.”

Vincent had to work to keep his straight face as he watched Leo process the words.

“What? Why?”

Vincent took a sip of his coffee.

“Well, they don’t do vaccinations at the shelter, and she should get a checkup and maybe some vitamins.” He nodded to the dog, who had padded into the room to sniff at Leo’s socked feet when she’d heard him walk in.

Leo looked at him suspiciously, but Vincent could see the faintest trace of hope in his eyes.

“Why do we need all that?”

Vincent let himself break into a grin then.

“As much as I love you, I think we could both do with the help of a trained professional to take care of our dog.”

Leo stared at him for a few long moments, face blank. Then he crossed the floor in three big steps, grabbed Vincent’s face, and kissed him hard.

“You mean it?” he asked breathlessly, a brilliant grin on his face. “We’re keeping her?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Fucking--yes, of course! Oh my god--”

Vincent laughed as Leo kissed him again.

“Go change,” he said, gently pushing him back. “Don’t want the vet mistaking you for the stray.”

“Fuck off,” Leo laughed. He gave Vincent one last peck on the lips before hurrying off to their bedroom.

Vincent set his coffee down on the counter, still smiling. A gentle nudge at his leg made him look down.

“Don’t worry, Banjo,” he said softly, reaching down to ruffle her ears. “You’re home now.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

In A Storm

Bree gets stranded in a storm and just needs to find someone to give her a helping hand. 

Calum x Black!OC, Bree. Idk what happened. This post doesn’t actually exist. 

CW: 18+ Content (Briefest mentions of sex. It’s an almost fade to black moment, but there’s a tiny teeny amount of details.)

Enjoy my masterlist

You can support me on kofi.

________________________________________

Bree wants to laugh. The light on her car came on twenty minutes ago. She thought then, maybe she should pull over, call her dad and see what she should do. She was so close to her friend, Drew’s house. And maybe it was stupid to negioate with herself that if it went out in another ten minutes she’d continue on and worry about it in the morning. Her lower back and ass was starting to hurt from the long drive though and if Bree was to stop she only wanted it to be at her final destination so she could stretch out and sleep. 

Though in Bree’s defense, the light shouldn’t have gone out. If something was really wrong, then it would’ve stayed on. But it went out after a couple minutes. She was nearing her exit when it came back on. It was only another ten minutes according to the GPS. Just another ten minutes and then in the morning, she could get someone to look at the car. Now, not even two minutes from the new house, a whopping three blocks away, her car was slowly puttering to its end. 

And breaking down two minutes from her new place wouldn’t be that bad. Things happened. But it was of course during her big move from her parents' place and in with Drew up in the Hills. This move is only temporary. She had a job starting in a week and after stacking up a few checks, Bree was going to put in an application to an apartment complex not too far from her job. But, of course, her car would break down in the middle of a downpour. 

The rain was nice at first. Made her feel like she was in her own bubble down the winding roads of the highway. Though she was getting into heavier traffic closer to the city and folks were becoming a bit more impatient in their driving, the rain provided her a little bit of solace. It felt a renewal. Bree was flying the coupe and it felt right that even though it was exciting it was also a little sad. It felt right to have the rain hitting the roof of her car. It made her feel like she was shedding something--though she wasn’t sure what it was just yet. 

But she did not need the rain and her car breaking down. Bree flicks on her emergency lights. Fat would have this for her. Fate would have this stored away just for her, at just the most inopportune time. Pulling the car off to the side of the road, Bree listens to the rain falling around her. She exhales, thinking what her next step should be. She’d have to call for a tow. And she’d have to let Drew know that she’d be delayed getting in and she should probably call her dad just to make sure she was handling the situation right. 

Reaching for her phone, she taps to end the GPS’s route. She wouldn’t be needing that for a while. Her nails click over the glass screen and just as her fingers hover over her dad’s contact the screen goes back. Her phone started dying just as she got into the neighborhood and now without the car battery on, she was left with no charge. “Let this be a fucking lesson to charge your phone the night before your drive,” Bree tells herself. 

Her portable charger box was somewhere in the mass of bags and boxes in her car. She told herself she’d put in her purse before leaving but due to late night last minute packing, Bree’s sure she dumped it somewhere into the depths of those boxes and there was no way she’d be able to unearth it now. 

“At least you’re in a neighborhood,” she tells herself, looking for any signs of life behind curtains. “A light, a child, something,” she mutters, looking through the sheets of rain. 

And right at the end of the block, a house down from where her car gave up the ghost, Bree spots two dogs in the windows. One fluffy and the other one with a pretty white coat. Normally, Bree wouldn’t be so inclined to just walk up to any old house. But a house with two dogs made her feel better. It felt like a sign. Throwing her phone into her purse, she took a deep breath. 

She had just pressed her hair. And sure really it was not anything more than a blow out and a quick rod set, but still it meant that the second the rain touched her scalp her roots would revert, the curls would take back their natural form. Though, that would just have to be a fight for tomorrow. Right now she can’t be sitting in her broke down car with no phone or way to contact anymore. 

“Do or die,” she sighs. Sliding the keys from the ignition, Bree leans into the door. “I just did my hair though. God,” she huffs, opening her door. The rain is cool. It’s almost a relief. The door is wet within seconds. Her jeans are no longer the light faded wash but dark denim blue. 

It’s another moment before she fully pushes herself out of the car, locks it and then runs up the driveway, purse clutched tight to her side. The rain’s not a chill to her bones. But it’s like a refreshing sip of water. The jog’s stretched out her lower back a little. Under the refugee of this strangers porch, she shakes a little bit of the water from her hair and raps at the door. “Please don’t be a creep,” Bree whispers, biting the corner of her lip. “Also, not an axe murder. Would not be cool.”

______________________________________

Calum walks past the two dogs perched on his couch to the front door. Calum agreed to dog sit Moose for the day while Michael took South to the vet. The poor guy hadn’t quite been eating like before and Michael, the worrier that he is, decided not to wait to check him out. Crystal had gone out of town and rather than letting Michael have to fret over South and Moose, Calum happily offered to watch Moose while Michael took care of what he needed. 

Calum’s not really sure what he expected to find on the other side of the door. It could’ve been anyone really--Michael, a mailperson, possibly a random kid asking if they could get access to his backyard to retrieve a rogue ball. But not someone, completely drenched, nervously running her teeth over her bottom lip. “Sorry to bother you. I just need to use your phone. My car broke down. I’m a genius who doesn’t charge her phone before driving 5 hours across the state.”

Calum looks past her, over her shoulder to see a car--he assumes it’s her--pulled over to the side of the road. He looks back to her. The college sweatshirt hanging heavily from her frame thanks to the pouring rain. Her hair sticks to her face a little. Whatever eye makeup she was wearing has started to run down her cheeks. “C’mon in,” he waves hurriedly for her to enter.

“Thanks,” she smiles, stepping inside but not going past the indoor welcome mat. Her shoes squish as she walks onto the hardwood floor. 

“Is your car far?”

“Nah, just like a house down. I saw the dogs in the windows. Seemed like a safe bet.” She holds out a hand to the dog intrigued by her. The pure white pup happily sniffs away at her hand while the smaller husky colored dog watches from afar. 

Calum turns any shoes suitable to go out into the rain. “I can help you push it closer to my house, that way none of my neighbors get pissy. That’s if you’re okay with getting wet again?”

The woman laughs. “I think I’m passed getting worried about wet. You’re the one that’s bone dry.”

“Not worried about it really. I’m just sick of my neighbors, at this point.”

“Don’t want the HOA on your ass?” she teases.

“God, not again.” Into some old tattered boots, Calum faces her. “I’m Calum by the way.”

“Bree,” she turns, slipping her purse over her head. “Is it okay if I set this inside? The phone’s dead but I don’t want it getting wet or anything.”

“Yeah sure,” he waves to the coffee table. 

Both of them pause on the front porch. Bree’s already wet like she said, but now her hair’s truly fucked. There’s no denying that. “Really, I could foot the heat of your neighbors,” Bree offers, not really wanting to go back into the rain. 

Calum chuckles beside her. “Let’s say me and the HOA are on thinner ice than before.”

“Thanks. Even though I’m getting you wet. Just want to say that now before we’re both drowning in this downpour.”

“No problem.”

 The second her sopping wet shoes hit the first stair, Bree definitely notes the air is cooler now. And it could be because she was already wet once before. And somehow had managed to adapt in the two minutes she was inside Calum’s place to the warmth. Now in the rain again, the chill is definitely hitting her bones. She runs again to her car. Her keys are clicking between her fingers. 

Her grip slips around her keyes and she curses before picking them up. Calum’s already positioned at the trunk, waiting on her. It’s a bit of embarrassment that heats her cheeks, sitting inside her car. She hadn’t meant to make anyone else do so much extra work or have anyone else subject themselves to the rain. With fingers gripping tight to the steering wheel, she leans out of the window just a little to let Calum know she’s ready. 

Thankfully, she hadn’t coasted super far out from Calum’s driveway. Bree keeps an eye on the nose of her car. It’s slow of course with only one person behind to push. When they get just pass the mailbox, Bree gives a shout and puts the car into park. She throws her head into the steering wheel, exhaling.

Behind her closed lids, all she seems to see is the cut of Calum’s jaw. Why did he have to be hot? Why wouldn’t he have been just some decent guy with two dogs? But he had to be hot and willingly to subject himself to the rain for her. She still has to call a tow truck and Drew, and her dad. There’s not much time for wallowing in the misery life liked to hand her. 

Throwing up her door, she finds Calum right at the driver side passenger door. “I can throw your clothes into the wash while you use my phone. Sound okay?”

The rain is clinging to the lines of his face, washing down his cheek and riding the line of his jaw. Bree tries to focus instead of his eyes. But even the rain there, on his lashes, is so goddamn beautiful. “Thanks again, Calum.”

“Don’t worry.” They walk back up his driveway. Calum lets her go ahead of him to get inside. But he leads her down to the bathroom, where Bree stands, still dripping water onto his floor. 

The press that she worked so hard is gone. The roots have coiled around each other. The ends are curling and she knows soon, they’ll follow suit. It’s in the mirror that she sees the mascara’s run down her face. She can’t believe she has to look like this, showing up at a strangers door and that stranger being so attractive too. 

“I’m literally a drowned rat,” Bree exhales. 

“But a cute drowned rat,” Calum returns. In his hands, he holds a towel, washcloth, and a stack of dry clothes out to her. “Pardon that I lack any kind of underwear other than boxers, but I hope they suffice until your clothes are dry.”

Bree nods, heart thundering in her chest. Did he just call her cute? There’s no way her ears heard that. “Thanks. You’re like totally saving my ass right now. But also, like, I do have some clothes in my car. Just means going back outside.”

“Neither one of us is facing that hell storm again. You’ve braved it twice, Bree. By the way, the hot water’s a little fussy. I got it fixed recently but you still gotta talk sweet to  it.”

“Noted, charm the hot water.”

Calum points out where to find other essentials in the bathroom and then backs out of the room with a tiny wave, lips lifting into a tiny smile. It feels nice under the warm run of the shower head. Bree definitely needed a little bit of patience with the hot water but once the temperature evened out it became well worth it.  Just her luck to work out like this. But she’s immensely grateful Calum’s so understanding. If not, she’d most likely wind up stranded, or she’d be tied up in someone’s basement. 

It’s not a thought Bree likes lingering on. But it’s just a reality for her. She hadn’t necessarily helped herself. When the light first came on, she could’ve found a car shop nearby. She could’ve waited there for a few hours, got it fixed and saved herself this trouble. Bree won’t be making anymore negotiations when it comes to her car anymore. That’s a lesson that really only needs to be learned once and she’s received the message loud and clear. 

Outside the shower, she takes in the gray t-shirt with splotches of white on the lower torso and sweatpants offered up to her. It feels all too intimate, to be wearing someone else’s clothes. Bree doesn’t know anything besides his name. And well, he has dogs. And he’s cute. And he has a fucking nice house. Though she hasn’t seen a lot of it, Bree already feels how cozy it is. It’s lived in, with decent space. It’s full. Calum’s house feels full even if it’s just him in the house with two dogs. 

Bree likes that feeling, walking into a house and feeling how bright and warm it is. It told her more about Calum, that he had this very embracing and calm energy about it. But that didn’t fully negate the fact that he was a stranger. And she was a stranger to him and she was still standing in a towel. Slipping into the clothes presented, she gathers her clothes into the towel, hopefully to keep from making an even bigger mess of her evening. 

Outside the door of the bathroom, Bree’s immediately greeted by one of the dogs. She’d guess they’re a toy poodle, but she can’t tell for certain. “Hi,” Bree coos, bending down to scratch behind one of their ears. “What’s your name?” The pink collar and tag tap just a little in the excited pants. “Oh, you look ear scratches huh, girl?”

“That’s Moose. Old man’s Duke. He’s not a big of people. So I apologize in advance.” Calum’s comes from further in the house. His t-shirt and shorts now changed into sweatpants and a ribbed tank. 

“So Moose and Duke, your partners in crimes?”

“Moose isn’t mine, as sad as I am to admit it. She’s a friend and I’m just dog sitting for a little bit. Duke’s my precious old man.”

Bree’s heart shouldn’t clench like it does. Precious old man, why not just stick a knife into her chest. There’s no way to tell how long Calum’s had Duke but it’s abundantly clear that Calum adores Duke.  “We can say Moose is your partner in crime too. Even if it’s just for a day.”

Calum chuckles. “Yeah. And as you can see, she’s not afraid to get what she wants.” 

Bree nods, turning her attention back to Moose for just a moment and pressing a soft kiss to the top of the dog’s head.

 “I can take those, by the way.”

Calum’s hand is outstretched, ready to take the damp clothes from her. Bree shouldn’t be staring at the veins in his hands and forearm. Nor should she be wondering what the back of his knuckles feel like against her cheek. But Bree could absolutely wonder how to prove to Calum’s old man that she was trustworthy--and that is a much safer thought.

Bree hands over the makeshift sack. “Thanks, again.”

It’s a curt nod. The smile seems genuine though. “I’ll get this into the wash.” 

Bree stays where she is for the moment, both hands scratching at Moose’s chin.It’s safer to say here. It’s safer to just give into Moose and give her all the affection because if Bree stands, she’s going to do something reckless, like peek through a room or try to find the laundry room just to steal another glance at Calum. 

His departure doesn’t last long enough. Calum comes padding back down the hallway, the soft recessed light reflecting off his skin. The hum and rumble of the washer is clear as it echoes throughout the house. “If you’re calling for a tow,” Calum starts, holding out his phone. It’s unlocked and on the keypad. “You’re risking the rain again.”

Bree groans sliding to her butt and resting against the wall. “You’re right. I’m just moving in with a friend for this new job and I didn’t anticipate my car breaking down during my drive.”

Calum leans into the wall opposite from her. “How far away is it?”

“Literally it’s like two blocks from here. A light came on and I didn’t pay attention to it and I’m just a fucking idiot.”

“Hey, no, it’s alright. Shit happens all the time.” Calum sides down the wall, squatting. “You can spend the night here. I know it’s only two blocks, but the weather’s a fucking mess. I can help you move and you can get your car towed to a shop. It all works out.”

Bree wants to tell him to shut the fuck up. She wants him to take back everything he just said. There’s no way she can survive a night in this man’s home. “I don’t want to impose. Maybe the rain will let up.”

Calum shakes his head. “Really, just spend the night. We can transfer whatever you need into my truck in the morning and once the truck gets your car I can take you to your friend’s house.” Calum smiles softly when he spies Moose curling up into Bree’s lap. “Besides, Moose likes you. I think she’d be sad to see you go.”

“But your old man Duke, I might have to put some work in with him.”

“He’s gotten better. Just talk sweet to him.”

Their laughter is soft. Bree rests her head into the wall. She still has his phone and she’s reminded that she ought to call Drew. “You’re right. I don’t want to go back out into that rain.”

He motions with two fingers and Bree hands back the phone. The unlock is quick. “Make your calls. I got tea, coffee. I think there’s hot chocolate if you want that. If you haven’t eaten, we can figure that out too.”

“You do realize that I’m like practically a stranger. I showed up at your door like a fucking drowned rat. You didn’t even tell me my mascara had run.”

He knows all that. Calum doesn’t need to be told that. And sure it probably sounds dumb and definitely a little stupid. But there was something about Bree that makes him worry less. It helps that she hasn’t flipped, hasn’t given out any indication that she knows who he is. And maybe it’s not safe to assume that she doesn’t know. But he has a strong feeling that if she did, they wouldn’t be having such an easy conversation. His gut would tell him if something was suspicious. 

“You looked pretty stressed out. I didn’t think you needed to know that your mascara was giving you raccoon eyes.”

With the phone to her ear, Bree glares at Calum. It’s playful and he laughs in returns, before pushing up off the wall. Moose sits with Bree but watches as Calum carries himself into the kitchen. He ought to be ashamed. He ought to feel more guilty at the way he wonders what she looks like beneath his clothes. And it doesn’t help, not at all, that she looks cuter, in his clothes than he ever did. 

It’s comforting to know now at least Bree seemed to be less tress. When she first stood in front of him on his porch, her brown eyes were blown, shifting her weight. She looked somewhere between frustrated and almost amused. Like she had expected something like this to happen to her. Though, there was still an air of apprehension and worry. 

“I’m safe,” Bree says. Her voice carries throughout the house. “Just some car trouble. I’ll get it seen in the morning. Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” 

The conversation soon ends but it’s only another minute before her voice picks up again. “Hey, Dad. Yeah, it’s me, Bree. Had to borrow another phone for like two seconds. Anyways, car went flatline on me. But I’m okay and safe for the night. Gonna get it checked out in the morning.”

There’s a pause. Calum pours a glass of water, figuring that’s the safest bet until Bree gets off the phone. “Yeah, Dad. Really I’m safe. In a..hotel...No the car’s not just out on some highway. Just--” Whatever Bree was about to say clearly doesn’t outrank her father’s statement. “I don’t have an estimate yet. Hopefully it’s not too much. I don’t know. I’ll worry about that tomorrow….Thanks. Love you too.” 

Bree’s glad the house isn’t a maze. It makes finding Calum a lot easier. But as she settles onto the barstool, sliding his phone back to him, she does wish she had more time to mentally prepare for Calum’s gaze. His eyes are warm, and inviting. That’s not a thing she needs to be worried about right now. Right now, she’s got to worry about her car and moving, and paying to fix her car. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Calum turns to the fridge, listing off the options he has, even offers ordering something for her if none of his options sound appealing. “Tea, coffee, hot chocolate. Which I’m like ninety percent sure I already offered, sorry.” It’s paired with a soft chuckle. 

Bree did eat. She made sure to text her dad when she stopped and when she got back onto the road. But maybe it’s just the adrenaline, the stress of her car, and maybe it’s partially something to do so she doesn’t say something stupid, or completely left field. “Hot chocolate would be nice.” 

Just as Calum sets the mug down, a buzzer sounds. Both dogs bark for a moment before quieting down. “I put a blanket in the dryer. Just in case you were cold,” Calum explains. “Did you want it or is that overkill?”

“You--you didn’t have to. But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no, of course.” He knows he’s staring. Her smile is bright and shows off all her teeth too. Like she’s not afraid of anything, or maybe she’s learned to put on a smile even when she’s terrified. His gaze lingers a little too long on her lips. The way she works her teeth over the skin, but they’re still full. Calum wonders if they’re soft too. “So,” he starts, spinning to face his cupboards, “you said you were moving? Just a couple blocks down?”

Bree nods, eyes trailing down his shoulders and back that flex as he grabs onto the blue box. “Yeah-yeah. Got a new job and a friend of mine agreed to let me crash with them until I got an apartment. Wanted to save up some more money before throwing myself into the woes of financially living alone.”

Calum hums, tearing open a packet. “Sounds like we’ll be neighbors. At least for a little bit.” Paws click on the floor. Too light to be Moose and when Calum glances down, he spies Duke lapping at his water bowl in the kitchen. 

“I mean, it’s a couple blocks,” Bree insists. If she says that, if she puts more distance between them, she won’t be tempted to drive through his neighborhood and she won’t be tempted to make a joke about staying over more often. She won’t make any moves tonight either. 

“Close enough,” Calum says. “A couple blocks, a couple minutes. I’m sure you’ll always remember this street though, after tonight.”

“Oh, definitely.” 

Her drink finished, Calum hands over the mug. Their fingers brush, just a split second in time, hardly enough time to really know it’s happening, yet they know anyway. Bree tightens her hold around the warming ceramic. It’s still too hot to really take a drink. But Bree sips from it anyway, after a couple gentle blows onto the dark brown sweet drink. She prays, chants to herself, that she most definitely should not linger too long on the thought or the way her skin felt electric. 

“You sure you’re not hungry? I really don’t mind ordering you something.” Calum clears his throat. There aren’t many times Calum’s glad that the bar seat has a counter at waist height, but this time in particular he’s grateful. His spine still tingles just a little. 

“I ate already, thanks.”

“Any dessert? I’ve got ice cream and there’s a great place not too far that delivers cookies.”

Dessert. It’s not even the fact that Calum asks. It’s how he asks. His brows shooting up on his face, thumb pointing over his shoulder to his fridge and freezer. It’s the way he bites his own lip, leaning into the counter on his elbows. Bree’s not sure if it’s some secret language, if he’s asking more than just the tub of sugary confection in his freezer. 

“Really, I’m okay. Thank you.”

Calum nods. “Yeah, okay. No problem. Well, I gotta check on that load of laundry. But feel free to watch TV, snuggle with Moose, see if you can champion Duke’s heart. You’re free to whatever’s in the kitchen.” 

It’s a curt nod as Bree works down another sip of her drink before Calum leaves. Once she’s sure he’s gone down back into the depths of his place, she drops her head onto her neck. Fuck me, she mouths. She can text Drew, let them know the true details of what the hell is going on. Though Bree knows the response will be a swift, You better fuck him and I want deeds. 

Her phone. It’s still dead. Turning on the stool, she spots her purse still on the coffee table and both dogs curled up on one end of the couch. They watch her with curious eyes as she walks over. Thankfully an outlet is nearby with a phone charger already snug into the outlet. Nothing was plugged into it. She hoped Calum wouldn’t mind for the time being. 

Plugging in her phone, Bree settles onto the far end of the couch, letting Duke have his space. But Moose is not shy and walks over, head resting in Bree’s lap. “Help me win over Duke, Moose.” 

Moose’s response is turning to her back, gazing expectedly. “Okay, sure, since you’re yanking my leg,” Bree laughs, rubbing her hand over Moose’s belly. Duke still doesn’t seem bothered by her presence. She can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Though she’s inclined to say good. He could be barking, and yet, he’s just watching, assessing Bree. 

“I get it,” Bree states to Duke. “You’re thinking, sussing me out. I respect that.” Bree didn’t want to be the type to be nosey but staring at the living room and the house itself. What did Calum do? Drew had a decent break in the producing and DJing world and bought a house up here. Does Calum do something similar? And if so, why wasn’t he more worried about having some stranger in his house?

Bree’s phone buzzes. Text messages from Drew and her dad. Old alerts from various group chats and email alerts that were all muted all she drove. Just as she reaches back for it, a snout presses into her hand. “Moose, you’re literally getting snuggles right now,” Bree laughs. 

“Oh, he’s not going to like that.”

Bree looks up to Calum who’s grinning and then down to the snout. She gasps at the sight of Duke resting his head against her hand, his body curled up next to her. “Oh my god, oh  my god. Is this real life?” she whispers, looking up to Calum. 

“Yeah, this is real life.” 

“I would literally die for you and I just met you,” Bree chuckles mostly to herself, gently petting the top of Duke’s head. 

Calum tries not to think about how Duke really isn’t all that fond of new people. And for him to curl up next to Bree is an amazing feat. Does Duke sense something Calum can’t? Or maybe they’re both sensing the same thing, that Bree’s striking and funny. And above all, she’s safe. It’s almost like Calum’s known her forever, but maybe Calum just wants to feel that, so it makes everything he’s feeling and on the verge of doing make sense. 

“You do realize I literally don’t care if you want to change the channel,” Calum returns, settling on the opposite end of the couch. 

“This is literally your house! I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

Bree is a puddle of dogs and is sinking into the cushions of his couch. Calum risks a glance from the movie. He thinks it’s one in the Batman franchise but he can’t be sure. The curls have become evident, even though she’s tried to tame them into a high bun. Her cheeks are full, much like his. 

“So what brings you into town? I think you mentioned a new job? You don’t have to get too deep into it if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, I interned remotely at this magazine for a while. Wrote articles, did some shoots for them. It was mostly music based, looking at underground and indie artists. They had to lay some folks off. But I was already looking to go elsewhere. Got hired and getting paid more so now  I’m moving into the city since it’s not a remote position. My friend Drew’s letting crash with her. I got hired like last week so I hardly had any time to find a place or anything.”

“Drew? Like Drew with the dreads who’s literally DJing at almost every club in this fucking state Drew?”

“You know her?” Bree asks. 

“Yes! I met her in the studio a couple times. I didn’t even realize she was in the neighborhood.”

“Studio?” Bree figured Calum had to be a creative type and very successful at that. She just hadn’t suspected that thought to be true. 

“I dabble,” Calum returns, shrugging his shoulders. Dabble sounds betters, doesn’t put too much pressure or anything. 

“Looks like dabbling is working out well for you.”

“So, do you shoot shows for certain bands or just whoever?”

“Just whoever. In some ways I want to be on the cutting edge. A few bands from the old magazine I covered caught a wave. I don’t want to say I’m the reason why, but,” the sentence trails off into a fit of giggles. 

“But you’re the reason why,” Calum concludes with a laugh. The two of them talk for hours. Bree telling Calum about the embarrassing trip to the gas station when she realized she had pulled in the wrong way to fill up her tank today and how when she was a kid she’d constantly mix up her left and her right. She still does if she’s honest, so she’s the worst person to ask for direction. 

Calum doesn’t share a lot, the occasional story about when he and his friends lived a house together and going a little too hard on the whiskey in coffee and how once he split his pants during a jig. Though mostly Calum just let’s Bree talk. He finds that she can go a mile a minute but she’s good about pulling at certain strings. When she brings up knowing Drew since they were kids, and Calum mentions his friends, she asks about them. Just what it was like growing up with them and what about living with them that he misses. 

“Honestly, I’d rather talk to you than be interviewed by any other talk show hot for a decade at least.” Calum states it only after realizing it’s nearing midnight. Michael’s come and gone to pick up Moose. Bree’s hot chocolate has turned cold. 

“It’s because I hate interviewing people. I like having conversations,” Bree returns. Duke’s settled between them, facing Calum now but doesn’t shy away when Bree scratches along his back. 

“I’m not much of a talker, normally.”

“If that’s your way of saying I’m talking too much, you can just say it. I’m used to it.”

Calum shakes his head. “No, no, not at all. It’s just, you’re easy to talk to, that’s all.” Bree curls up, feet tucked under herself as she faces Calum. HIs t-shirt seems to swallow her up but also she wears it like she owns it, the front tucked into the band of the sweatpants just a little. “Like really easy to talk to,” Calum whispers, trying not to imagine the sight of her beneath him. He hasn’t had something like this--a conversation that could last hours and the ease to almost spill his guts-- in years outside of the guys.

“I know I’ve probably said this like a thousand times, but really thank you. For helping me out. It means a lot.” Bree looks up from her lashes. She knows that look that Calum’s giving her. It’s the eyes from when he questioned dessert. She didn’t want to believe that he was into her, not like that at least. 

“You--Really, it’s nothing.”

His gaze hasn’t faltered, as if he’s reading every thought behind her skull. It’s intense and god, it’s not the thing she needs. Keep it together, she reprimands herself. “I’m just, I’m going to dump this.” Bree stands, taking her mug into the kitchen.  

“No, no let me,” Calum rushes, pushing to his feet. “You’re the guest.”

Bree wishes Calum had stayed on the couch. She needed to get away, just to breath and think clearly for two seconds. But Calum’s right behind her and his hand reaches out behind her to take the mug. At the sink, they face each other. Close enough that she can feel just how warm he is, smell the Old Spice body wash she saw under the sink on his skin. 

“Really, I don’t mind. You’re already doing a lot today.”

Calum didn’t realize just how tall Bree was until now. She stands just about eye to eye with him, only off by a few inches. Four or five, if Calum had to venture a guess. And it would be so easy to kiss her. Just drop his chin a hair and capture her full pouty lips. “Helping someone in need isn’t a lot.”

Bree exhales her laughter. “It’s not a lot when you’re a good person, that’s for sure.” She tugs at the mug just a little, pulling into her body just a hair. There’s not much space between them at it stands. “Please,” she whispers. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying please for. Is it please let me wash the damn mug and walk away? Or is please just kiss me already so there’s no more dancing around this tension?

Calum moves the mug, both of them moving along with his instrumentation. The mug settles into the basin of the sink with a soft thud, the spoon clicking against the sides. “Please what?”

And the words are falling from her lips before she can stop herself. “Kiss me.” 

Calum exhales just a hair and cups her jaw into his palm. Bree meets him though, closes the already centimeters between them. Their lips touch for a brief moment. It feels like the first sip of ice cold water on a hot water. It’s satisfying, makes you exhale in relief and it’s only in that moment as the first slides down your throat that you realize how thirsty you’ve been. Calum secures a hold to her waist, pushing her into the counter. Their lips meet again, and again, slightly harsh exhales as hands pull at t-shirts and tanks. 

Calum trails a hand under the hem of the t-shirt, running his palm over her stomach and side. Bree shudders at the touch, head falling back on her neck. Calum seizes the opportunity to lay a trail of kisses across her throat. Her sighs are like literal music to his ears. He sucks at the skin to hear it again. And he’s greeted with something much better. Bree moans, arms locking around his neck. Her fingers dance along his shoulder and back and when her head finally reconnects, she reconnects her mouth to Calum’s. 

The kitchen turns into a bedroom. All Bree focuses on is the feel of Calum against her, as shirts are shed and pants too. Calum swallows down every sound she gives him. He drinks in the sight of her, head thrown back into his pillows, and legs wrapped around his waist. Bree kisses along his biceps, teeth grazing over the tattoos on his skin. Their senses fill with each other, the sighs, the moans, the pleas, the encouragement and even the awkward shuffle and giggles. Calum never wants to hear his name for another set of lips ever. Not with the way it falls so easily from Bree’s mouth. Bree hums when she hears the grunted curses Calum exhales as his hips rock into hers. 

With Calum’s arm draped over her naked waist, he presses a kiss to her cheek. Bree turns to face him, a grin at her lips. “I’m washing that damn mug. Just so you know.”

Calum laughs, shoulders shaking and he squeezes at her waist. “Why am I not surprised at that fact?”

“I don’t care if I have to sneak out of the bed at 5 in the morning. I’ll do it.”

And true to her word, Bree does wash the morning. It’s helped of course when Calum’s alarm goes off and in the shuffle of him rousing awake and trying to turn if off, Bree slips out from the sheets. She throws on his t-shirt again and bolts to the kitchen. The morning is nice though, though she has to steal clothes from the trunk of her car before they can transfer all the boxes into Calum’s SUV. 

Calum closes the trunk down, wearing the t-shirt she borrowed and in jeans. Sunglasses cover his face while a trucker hat hides away the curls. “Tow truck said what time again?”

“10 am. So another,” Bree checks her phone, “10 minutes, hopefully. Thanks, again.”

“Really, don’t worry about it. And you can stop saying thanking me. I know it’s a thing you’re probably going to do like a thousand more times.”

Bree swats at his arm. “Look here, I’m trying to be polite. You can be a sour puss elsewhere.”

Calum cackles. “Sour puss? That’s a new one. Also, you sure you don’t want any breakfast? I know a place nearby. Great pancakes.”

“Not much of a breakfast person.”

He nods. “Noted. What about lunch?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely a lunch person.”

“Good, because they have good sandwiches and fries too.”

“Was-Did you just ask me on a lunch date?”

The rumble of a truck cuts through the open air. Both of them turn to see the tow truck coming down the block. Once Bree gets the finalized details about which car shop they’re taking her car and giving said car shop the okay to call her once it’s ready, Bree turns to Calum. “You never answered my question and if it is a date, I’m paying.” Calum insisted on helping her out by paying for the tow. 

Calum’s smile is bright. “I’m not a cheap date.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

 “Is Drew home? Do you have a key? We can drop your stuff off, eat, and then check up on your car?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“I know you said you’re bad with directions, but I need you to navigate.” It’s not hard or long before they reach Drew’s place. Not quite long enough for a full song to finish. Drew’s out on the porch when the two of them roll up. 

She laughs, leaning onto the railing. “Bree when you told me you got stranded I thought you landed on the side of the road. Fancy meeting you again, Calum.”

“Hi, Drew. Turns out we’re neighbors.”

Drew arches her eyebrow, looking at back at Bree. Bree holds up her hands. “I’ll explain everything later. Over dinner.” Calum tries to bite back his grin, but glances over to Bree. The question dances across his eyebrows, everything everything? Bree rolls her eyes, going to the trunk. 

____________________

When a knock sounds at Calum’s door, he almost doesn’t answer it. That laziness is helped by the fact that he was almost on the verge of sleep. But another knock immediately follows it. “Coming!” he calls out. He checks his phone first, but sees no text from Bree. 

As the door cracks open, Calum’s greeted with a bright smile. Bree stands at his door. No rain this time, no mascara running down her face. Just her full cheeks and pouty lips and bright smile. “You said you’d text me.”

“I made cookies,” she returns, holding up the carrying tray. “As a thank you.”

Calum laughs, opening the door wider to let her in. Bree walks in and immediately spots Duke on the couch. “My precious boy!” she coos.

Calum takes the tray knowing that she’ll get distracted soon enough. It’s been a little over three weeks since Bree showed up at his doorstep. Most days they call, or text. Occasionally, Calum drags her out of the house to grab dinner with him or a couple drinks. There’s some unspoken rule, an energy between them. They keep it casual. But even still conversations on the phone can go until 2 in the morning. Calum just listening to the sound of her voice. He asks nearly any question under the sun just to keep her talking. 

Bree asks more about the band, never crossing a line. Mostly to see how the other guys are doing, especially their dogs. Calum tells her a bit more about the music he’s making but work is mostly kept separate. Bree doesn’t want Calum to think she’s using him. Calum asks about projects but never makes her divulge more than she’s comfortable with. 

Calum cracks open the tray and sees a mass of chocolate chip cookies displayed in front of him. He picks one off the top and the center practically melts in his mouth. He hums at the taste but knows there’s no way he can have that many cookies in his house. “This is too many cookies,” he calls out over the bite. 

“That’s why it’s called sharing!” Bree returns, kissing the top of Duke’s head. She wonders into the kitchen, taking a cookie as well. “Did I interrupt a nap? I’m sorry.” His eyes are puffy and he keeps blinking. 

“Was trying,” he admits, lower back resting into the edge of the counter. 

“I’m sorry! I’ll go. Oh my god, really. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Bree is quick to push away from the counter and almost gets to the front door. Calum’s quick though and wraps her waist up in her arms. 

“Nap with me?”

“I’m not sleepy. I just wanted to stuff my face with cookies and cuddle Duke.”

“You can do that, just stay with me please.” He buries his nose into her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. He covers her neck in kisses between pleas. Bree giggles at the light scratch of Calum’s scruff. He’s started letting the bread grow out, even though it’s a slightly pitiful excuse of a beard. 

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stay.”

With her head resting on his chest, she listens to the steady rhythm of his heart. His hold is warm, but not uncomfortable. Duke’s at their feet and Bree thinks maybe she could take a nap. It wouldn’t hurt at all. Especially not if it was a nap on Calum’s chest. It was crazy to her, to think that fate had stranded on the side of a street but also introduced her to a great friend. And maybe there was more. Maybe there’s more for them down the road. But for now, they had an understanding. 

“Did you think when you showed up at my door like a drowned rat this is what would happened?” Calum’s voice is soft and a little mumbly.

“No, I was bracing for you to be a serial killer. And instead you’re a serial cuddler, so I’ll that that any day of the week, hands down.”

They laugh, chest shaking against each other. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“It’s much appreciated,” Bree says in a whisper. She lifts her head just a little. His eyes are close, lashes practically brushing long his cheek. She lightly traces the moles around his mouth and cheek. 

“That’s not napping, Missy.” Her response is a soft kiss and Bree rests her head against on his chest, arms squeezing at his waist. The moment is still and feels like it could never be broken. 

______________ Tagging @5-secondsofcolor for your morning reads. 

[edierone]

26 and 77 for the mash up list

Five Miles Is a Long Way to Walk In Florsheims

She really did it. 

She — she just pulled over, told me to get out, and — kept on driving. 

I know I was pissing her off this entire case (but especially today), I know I probably (definitely) pushed it too far when I did the vehicular version of Dutch-ovening her just now, a little juvenile humor to lighten the mood … ok, honestly, with the heat on, it was really kind of nauseating, even for me. 

She’s threatened to dump me out before, like a dad yelling at the kids to pipe down or he’ll make ‘em walk home. 

But — this time, she really did it. And here I am, by the side of a two-lane road in the far yonder of cow country, in a cold drizzling rain, in my suit (minus the jacket, which is … still in the car) and cheap dumb dress shoes from JC Penney — thank god I left my Nunn Bush oxfords at home, I guess? — watching the rented Ford’s taillights recede in the far distance.  

I’ll wait a few minutes. She’ll come back. 

Nope. It’s been fifteen already. New plan: Walk till I’m just over that next rise — probably she’s sitting there, waiting for me to catch up, parked on the narrow shoulder with the radio on one of her channels (theory: might’ve been the fourth airing of “Livin’ Lovin’ Maid” that pushed her over the edge; note to self, that’s enough classic rock for today). I’ll show up, she’ll forgive me, and we’ll get back to finding the Phantom Murderin’ Cowboy of BFE. 

*************

Nope. Fox and his tired old dogs are walkin back to Cowburg. 

*************

Five miles is a long way to walk in Florsheims, especially when the seams start to give and your socks are soaked and your hair is in your face and even your belt is ruined. It’s enough time to get titanically self-righteously angry, then run out of steam on that and rethink your position, then feel like utter dogshit for the way you’ve treated the most important person in your life, then script and rehearse your most abject apology speech dozens of times, refining it to remove all traces of self-pity and accusation and adding a few jokey lines so she knows it’s you and not some shapeshifting asshole wearing you as a skin suit or something. 

I’m — I’m properly chastened, is what I’m saying, and all I want is to get back in her good graces. And maybe get some dry clothes on; my balls are rubbed pretty raw at this point. 

Room 27, adjoining room 28, the last two on the end farthest from the road. I start to feel just how bad off I am as I cross the parking lot: I’m freezing, my left knee hurts like a bastard, my ankles feel swollen to the point of sloshiness, my back is killing me, and my feet — oh god, my feet … I limp to good old 27, then realize with a wave of despair that my key is in the pocket of my suit jacket, which I can see crumpled on the floor of the Taurus’s backseat. 

Shit. 

Rather than add “broken rental car window” to my list of crimes and expense items, I gather what’s left of my dignity — there ain’t much — and shuffle over to 28. 

“Knock knock, it’s the bog monster of Black Rock Creek, I’m here to —”

The door swings open so fast I almost fall through it. 

There she is, keys in hand and coat on — that determined/worried little furrow between her eyes quickly smoothing out and hiking skyward as she takes in my bedraggled state. I don’t get a chance to give my apology speech, because she’s already launched into hers: “Jesus, Mulder, you look like a drowned rat! I’m so sorry — I thought it was only a mile or so, but it took you so long, I got worried — you — I was so angry, I guess I just didn’t realize how far it was — oh, look at your shoes! I was coming to get you — god you must be so cold —”

The whole time, she’s dragging me inside, running to the bathroom to grab towels which she tosses at me, bending to help me shuck the worthless bits of leather that used to be size 11 Fed footwear, checking through my sopping-wet hair for head trauma — at least I think that’s what she’s doing, but I don’t really care cause it feels pretty good. 

But I can’t let her do all the apologizing, so all the while, I’m trying to interject with my own mea culpa — about how it’s OK, I’m OK, I was being a dumbass and I deserved it and I’m sorry for questioning her take on the third vic’s cause of death (she was right, I was reaching, and being a dick about it besides), if she wants to Dutch-oven me as revenge, I’ll take it like a man … 

That one finally makes her stop fussing and laugh, her big surprising Scully-laugh that makes me feel like a god for bringing it forth. 

“Mulder …” she finally says, looking me up and down with a mixture of pity and amusement that kinda makes me tingle. “I’ll save that idea for another time. Why don’t you go get a hot shower and I’ll — try to find something to eat. I’m already dressed to go out anyway.” 

I agree to this plan, and in less than an hour, we’re side by side in comfy warm sweatpants on the surprisingly decent couch, eating some of the best tortilla soup I’ve ever tasted. She brought icy cold glass bottles of Coke, too — “Hecho in Mexico, oh man, Scully, that’s the stuff!”

She puts hers down and hops up, going to dig something out of her trench pocket. “I almost forgot! I found something else to warm you up.” She holds it out to me — a pint bottle of Jameson’s. 

“Heyyyyyy!” I reach for it, cracking it open and smelling it. “Where’d you get this? I thought this was a dry county.” 

“It is,” she smiles, with an arch aren’t-I-clever look. “I bought it off the front desk clerk — smelled something on her breath and took the big investigative leap. She charged me a pretty big markup, but I thought it was worth it, under the circumstances.” 

I agree, and ask if we have glasses — but this isn’t the kind of place that furnishes barware, so I guess we’ll have to swig it like a couple of winos under a bridge. 

“I don’t mind swapping spit with you, Scully, if you’re ok with mine,” I say, landing a pretty ill-timed glance at her lips that I hope she doesn’t notice. 

She does. It makes her blush a little, which she brazens through with a big manly belt of the Jameson’s. She hands the bottle to me and dares me with her eyes to do better. 

I can’t, of course, but I try, and as the first gulp slides down my throat, warming me from the inside, I have one of those hot pulses of the deepest kind of affection for her — the kind that just shouts in my head, iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou, so loud that I almost give it voice for real. 

But, of course, I don’t; we finish our dinner, taking occasional nips of whiskey, calling out increasingly sloppy answers at Jeopardy! and then Wheel of Fortune on the crummy motel TV. 

The news is next and neither of us is in the mood, so I click through the five working channels and get lucky: North By Northwest is just starting. I scooch around to get comfortable, but I must’ve stiffened up — both of my hip joints and something up high in my back crack audibly, and the girly scream whistling out of me at the way my calf just seized would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. 

Well, I guess it’s funny to Scully — she laughs, but apologizes. Then laughs again. She’s ruthless, not to mention mean. I tell her so. She laughs harder. I pout dramatically, and eventually she relents.

“All right, all right — you’ll be useless in the morning if I don’t get you fixed up, and I don’t plan on carrying your bag through DFW airport. Get up on that bed, I’ll massage the kinks out.” 

I swear I do not even have time to open my mouth before she warns, deadly serious: “And if you say one word about this is how some of your favorite movies start —”

Ahh, she knows me, doesn’t she? 

I make like a totally innocent man — pure of heart, mind, and deed — and lie down on my stomach with my feet toward the headboard, propping my chin up on a pillow so I can keep watching the movie. Scully gets to work. 

And she’s good. Got those doctor hands. Whoever’s in 26 must think we’re making the world’s weirdest sex tape in here, or else that we’ve kidnapped a moose that sometimes converses with Cary Grant. 

By the time she gets to my feet, I feel like a melted marshmallow.  

Scully says dreamily, “I remember watching this once somewhere when I was about twelve, and thinking Eve Kendall was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.” I make an inquiring noise. “You know — this scene —”

They’re on the train. Eva Marie Saint’s lookin ol’ Archibald in the eye, telling him she’s twenty-six and unmarried and likes his face, how it’s gonna be a long night, and

“And I don't particularly like the book I've started,” Scully murmurs along. I crane my neck to look back at her; her lips curve upward in the most delicious-looking arc, her eyes twinkling with that sort of mischievous/impressed look she gets toward me sometimes. 

I love it, but it makes me a little jealous, so I tell her so. She just giggles and says, “Oh, don’t be jealous of old crushes!” I want to ask her who’s the crush, Eva Marie or Cary, but she grabs the other pillow and flops down on her stomach beside me and suddenly I can’t talk — I just lie there, grinning like a fool. 

She passes me the one-third-full Jameson’s — one more sip each before she caps it for the night. We watch for awhile longer. During the next commercial break, she turns to me, studying me with a gentle smile.  

“You look a little dopey,” she says fondly, and I laugh. 

“I’m also happy, sleepy, and tipsy — wonder where the other three dwarfs are?”

Her eyes are on the TV again. “Doc … Bashful … Horny …” 

Suddenly my heart is thumping way too hard. When I talk, it comes out softer than I meant it to. “I don’t think ‘Horny’ is one of the original septet, Doc …”

She shifts a little. She’s smiling but she won’t look at me. “Neither is ‘Tipsy,’ but I spotted you that one — fair’s fair, Mulder.”

“Oh, we’re being honest?” Where did this voice come from, the one that makes her shiver? There — just then — she did, she did shiver. I saw it. “Well, maybe there was a Horny. And a Woody, and a — Smitten, and a —”

“I think you better stop there, Prince Charming,” she interrupts, finally half-turning her face toward me. She still won’t make eye contact; maybe she knows, like I do, that if she does that, we don’t stand a chance of keeping this from happening. 

The thing is, I want it to. I have for a long, long time, and I think — so does she, so has she. 

That’s the source of so much of the tension between us; that’s really why we fought earlier, why there’ve been so many of these little flareups lately, embers dropped into dry grass and then stomped out with such vigor. We’ve been careful not to get into situations like this one, where the space separating us is so small that we can feel the other’s exhales on our own skin. 

I drop down from my elbows to lie flat, facing her. I can see her eyelashes silhouetted against the washed-out lights of 1959 onscreen. “Scully,” I say, barely above a whisper. 

It’s a long moment before she finally whispers back, “Not here.”

I know what she means, of course I do. Not on a case, not in a janky motel, not even a little bit under the influence. 

“Then where?” 

She shakes her head, a tiny movement that makes her hair fall forward, obscuring any part of her I could read. 

She doesn’t know? Or she doesn’t want to say? I can’t tell, so I try another question.

“Soon, do you think?”

She tenses, and for a second I think she’s going to get up, or order me out of here. But then she drops her head to the pillow, facing me. Her eyes are huge, serious, full of something unnameable that I nonetheless understand. 

“Soon,” she agrees. 

I nod, nearly overwhelmed by my love for her, the tremendous weight of this moment, the desire that’s been there for so long I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t. 

She reaches to touch my face, skimming lightly along one side, barely barely barely there on my eyelid, so softly; I close my eyes as she traces where she likes. 

Her hand falls eventually, coming to rest in the little valley between us. I take hold of it, gently, risking a glimpse at her. Her eyes are shut now, but I’m not sure she’s asleep. 

“I love you,” I say, but silently, the coward’s way. “So much.” 

If she hears me, it’s only subliminally; that’s all the daring I have tonight. Sweet dreams, Scully, I think as I drift off. Sweet dreams. 

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

[Thanks for the long-ago prompt, anon -- from the Fic Trope Mashup list, Massage Fic and In Vino Veritas]

[asongstress1422]

If You Go Down to The Woods Today

Reylo Fanfic -- werewolf au

Read on: AO3

Happy Halloween!!

The prickle on the back of her neck had Rey turning around to scan the area, hand slipping into her coat pocket around the small canister of mace. It was just shy of three in the morning and for what Rey could see of the rain soaked street it was vode of life. Though her instincts had gotten her out of too many tight spots for her to just not listen to them now. It they told her something was out there, it was out there.

So she had two options.

First being go back the way she had come. It was about two blocks, less than five minutes if she ran, to the club where she worked, though she doubted anyone would still be there. On a night like this her coworkers would want to get home just as much as she did. But she could lock herself safely inside and call an uber, though even the shout few blocks to her apartment would send her bank account into the red.

Her second option was walking the four remaining blocks to her apartment. A longer distance, yes, but if things got really hairy there was a twenty-four hour convenience store that she could hide out in. It was Satur-- er, Sunday morning so that meant Bonnie would be manning the counter. Rey bit her lip, weighing the idea of potentially luring her problems to the woman’s place of employment against knowing the older woman had a concealed weapons permit and was always packing. And Rey’s apartment was only another block up from there.

Path decided, Rey buttoned her coat tight around her neck and, on a deep breath, closed her umbrella.  The mid-October rain was cold, instantly plastering her hair to her scalp. Shoving wet hair out of her eyes Rey marched forward, impromptu weapon clutched in her hands.

She made it about a block until her body screamed at her again and with little thought she turned, umbrella in a defensive block across her chest, palms and wrist loose, ready to counter just as her Sensei had drilled her.

A deeper shadow along the row of cars froze, yellow-green eyes reflecting the steep lamps. Her brain’s pseudo perpetrator.

Rey’s sigh floated in the air around her as her shoulders sagged in releaf. Then she laughed at herself further revealing her tension. “Good graces, boy, you scared me. What are you doing out here in all this wet, don’t you have some place to be?”

The dog remained pressed up against the red honda that had seen better days, completely motionless. Only its eyes followed her as she crouched on the sidewalk offering a hand. “Come on, I’m not going to hurt you,” she cood. “I just want to see if you got a collar so I can get you home.”

Slowly the animal moved, inching towards her and out of the shadow of the car.

“Wow,” Rey breathed as it cautiously slunk towards her, “you are a big boy, aren't you.”

In the weak light he appeared to be all black, long hair distorting his body as it dripped water. Kneeling as she was if he stood to his full height he his head would have topped hers but instead he kept his body hunkered close to the ground as he stretched out his huge head to sniff at her fingers, warm air curling over them.

Tentatively Rey scratched his chin. After a startled second of tension the great beast ease deeper into her palm. She ran her hands back to his neck. Finding no collar she gave it a good scratch as she looked down both ways of the empty road.

“Well, somebody has to be looking for you. You’re too well groomed to have been a stray long with all the hair you have.” He looked up to her as she spoke making them nearly nose to nose. “My goodness, you are a pretty thing.”

What she was about to do was probably one of her more stupid endeavors but her conscience simply wouldn’t let her leave the animal out in the rain. With a sigh she pushed to her feet.

“Okay, big guy, how about you come home with me and we’ll get you dry, does that sound good?” She smiled when his tail wagged, as if he actually understood her instead of responding the higher pitch in her voice. “Okay, let's go. And you can keep way any other stalkers I happen to pick up.”

Not bothering with the umbrella as she was already soaked, Rey and the animal walked the last few blocks to her apartment building.

“Just three flight of stairs and another door and we’re set,” she got out through clattering teeth. The dog pressed up against her side. “You’re sweet trying keep me warm but you’re probably just as cold as I am. I’ll get us fixed up as soon as we get inside.”

She was shaking so back by the time they finally reached her door it was a tryal to get the key in the lock but she managed. The apartment opened up into the living room, the space just big enough fo the couch to fit comfortably and everything else to squeeze in around. The lights were off inside but the key holder on the wall said one of her two roommates were home.

“We have to be quiet,” she whispered to the dog closing and locking the door, leaning the closed umbrella against the wall and hanging up her own keys. “Our lease says we can’t have animals.”

The dog whined softly once in reply but followed her as she led them into the bathroom. The fluorescents turned everything slightly orange as she shut the both of them inside. Zeroing in on the shower her first goal was turning the faucets all the way to hot.

“Okay, buddy, in you go.” He needed no second promoting hopping into the stall and laying under the hot water with a deep sigh. “Yeah, I bet that feels good.”

With numb fingers she picked at her own clothes, leaving them in a sopping pile on the floor.

“Hey, boy,” she said easing a foot under his rug like bulk, “scoot over some.”

He glanced up at her and nearly brained himself on the tub spout when he scrambled to his feet.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to get warm, too.” She moaned as she stepped into the hot spray. The dog tensed, pressing his face deeper to the seam of the tiled wall.

After a long minute just standing there with the water thawing her out she set about her shower ritual, running shampoo and conditioner through her shoulder length hair before grabbing her body wash and turning on the dog who had remained motionless the corner the whole time.

“I hope the scent isn’t too strong for your nose but we’re also going to need something to cover up that wet dog smell.”

She squirted a great glob of the pink gel in her hands. He flinched at the first touch of her hand and she tried soothing him with kind gibberish as she ran the soap through his long fur. It took some finagling to get him all washed, as it almost seemed as he refused to look directly at her as she crouched before him in the tub, but finally the water ran clean.

“Okay, boy,” Rey said around a huge yawn as she shut off the water. “Lets get dried off then it’s time for bed.”

She stepped out snagging the towel from the bar on the wall and wrapping it around herself, not wanting to give up her warmth now that she had it back. She picked up her wet clothes and hung them over the shower rod to, hopefully, dry by morning. Grabbing a second towel she called for her shower mate who stepped dantaily over the high lip of the tub, seemingly fine to look at her now that she was covered.

“You so funny,” she cooed raking the towel over him, carefully patting around his eyes. Still too wet for her liking she pulled her seldom used hair dryer. Hoping not to scare him she was extra affectionate as she turned it on. Not that she had to worry, he loved it. Turning his face into the heat and sitting contently as she ran they dryer all over his body. She found that he had a cute little white half-sock on his left hind foot. He seemed disappointed when she finally shut the dryer off.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, “but I need to go to bed.” She look him over with a frown. “Though your probable hunger, aren't you?” He perked up at that. “Okay,” she sighed. “Let me get some clothes on first.”

He followed behind her as she scurried on bare feet into her room across the hall. She quickly unbound the towel from around herself tossing her head down to wrapper her hair up in it. Diving into her dresser she pulled out the first things her hands grabbed; panties, sweatpants, an oversize sleep shirt, and her thickest pair of clean socks.

The dog was busy studying the ceiling when she turned back around. Shaking her head at herself for assigning gentlemanly behaviors to a animal she let the way into the way to the kitchen.

“I need to go shopping,” she grumbled half bent, shuffling things around in the fridge. Giving up on finding anything premade she grabbed out the half carton of eggs, the last tablespoon of foil wrapped butter, and took it to the stove.

Kicking the burner on high she tossed in half the pad of butter letting it partially melt before cracking in four eggs. Grabbing a fork from the drawer she gave them a scramble in the pan. Dash of salt, hint of pepper, a cursory flip and on a plate. Giving the eggs a change too cool, she didn’t want the dog to burn his tongue, Rey made herself some as well.

Finished she set his on the ground and opened the fridge for some salsa to go with hers. About to dig in when the dog let out a whine and pawed at her leg.

“What?” He looked at the salsa then back at her. Frowning, she picked up the jar she had set on the couter. “You want some?” He yip softly, licking his jowls as he dance in place. “It’s spicy, I don’t know if dogs can do spicy.” It was mild, she didn’t really like spice herself, but she was pretty sure the rule applied to dogs. He yipped again, insistant. “Fine, but I’m not making you anymore if you can’t eat it.”

The sounds of a beast feeding filled the small kitchen. Rey shook her head, forking up a bite of her own eggs. “First dinner date in six month and it’s will a dog.”

Metal ringing against ceramic dragged Rey from sleep. She rolled over to see at her roomate through bleary eyes as actually-to-god sunlight poured in through her crackerbox size window.

“You know we’re not aloud to have pets,” Paige said scooping another spoonful of mini wheats to her mouth.

“It’s just for one night,” Rey said trying to blink the sleep away.

“Don’t let Rose see him,” Paige warned. Rose was Paige’s four-year-younger sister that was in the inbetween stages of moving in with her boyfriend. Meaning most of her stuff was still here and she paid her third of the rent but she spent most of her time over there.

Rey nodded understanding. Growing up Rose had always wanted a pet but Paige had to put her foot down, barely able to make ends meet with just the two of them after their parents death.

“I took him on my run this morning to do his business,” Paige continued, “and fed him a can of tuna. Side note you’re, out of tuna.”

“Thanks,” Rey croaked stretching. She glanced down when her feet hit a large weight. The dog blinked at her, head lounging on his dinner-plate paws. If she had though he was large last night he was huge in the light of day. Curled as he was on her full sized mattress his tail still thumbed her upper arm in greeting. “Good morning to you, too.”

“He’s weird,” Paige said staring at the animal. “I had to bribe him with going outside before he’d leave you and I swear he glared at me when I tied a couple of scarves around him for a leash. But he kept pace with me fine and didn’t try to break free even though he could.”

Rey rubbed shoulder with her foot through the blanket. His tail thumbed again.

“Also, the wet dog towel you left handing in the bathroom?” Paige spoke around downing the last of the milk in her bowl. “Not cool.”

“I’ll do laundry,” Rey promised.

Paige grunted bending down to scratch between the dog’s ears. “Goodbye, mutt. It was nice having a running buddy.”

Rey stood in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee, trying to figure out what her next steps would be getting him home. Paige had skipped out to work. Rose probably won't be home til late to get ready for school the next day and Rey didn’t have work until five. She could probably take him to the pound but she didn’t like the idea of him being in a cage. And what if his owner never found him?

She peeked over the counter to look at the dog as he munched on the defrosted lunch meat she had found in the back of the freezer. “You wouldn’t by chance be half homing pigeon would you, that way you can just lead me to your home?” she asked.

He glance up and Rey got the distinct impression of a yes before he stood and stretched and headed towards the front of the apartment. She came around the corner to see him waiting patiently at the door. “Well, okay. Let me go get on some shoes.”

Taking a leaf from Paige’s book Rey wrapped a scarf around his neck in an artistic take on a collar tying another on to it for a leash.

“Don’t you look handsome,” she said ruffling his scruff, the grey of the scarf setting off the near blue black of his fur.

“So once we’re out on the street, I’m going to give you an hour to find home, then we’ll need to figure out another plan.” She smiled ryle, “I should probably stop talking to you like you can understand me. I’ll be getting enough strange looks from leading around a hundred and fifty pound dog with a scarf.”

He gave her cheek a lick.

“Aww, your sweet.” She gave him another pat standing. “Let's go see if we can find who you belong to.”

Once they hit street level the dog was a like a man on a mission. He didn’t pull or try to get out of the haphazard lead rope but he did keep a steady pace that Rey had to nearly trot to keep up with. The ground was still wet and the air held the hit of a bite but the sun was shining brightly.

“I thought Paige said she ran with you today,” Rey panted fifteen minutes later. “Her route is like five miles. How do you have so much energy still?”

He gave no reply, even though Rey was half expecting one, diligent on his path. That was another thing, there was no backtracking, no hesitancy it was almost as if he actually knew where he was going. At ten minutes to his hour cut off he stopped across from a little cafe.

“Here?” Rey demanded trying to hide her disappointment. What did she expect? She had allowed a dog to lead her on a merry-goose chase across town. She sighed rubbing her face. “Guess we’ll just have to think of something else.”

Checking both ways for traffic the dog made for the door. Rey pulled back on the scarf. “We can’t go in there. It’s a restaurant, they don’t allow pets.”

He persisted forward. The knot came undone and she nearly stumbled at the unexpected slack. Instead of running off as would be normal, he gave what could only be described as an eye roll as he took the ‘leash’ in his mouth and dragged her to the front doors. She was too surprised to do anything else except let him.

As they crossed the street a waiter taking a couple's order on the outside patio looked up in surprised. “Solo?”

“You know him?” Rey asked, the dog sitting at her feet.

“Yes, well you know, his … owner? Yeah, his owner is a ..buddy of mine. That’s his dog ...Kkkyylo.”

“Didn’t you just call him ‘Solo’?” Rey asked.

“My friend's name’s Solo. The dog’s name Kylo.” He hurriedly turned back to his customers, “let me get this to the kitchen for you and I’ll be right back with your coffees.” He gestured for Rey to follow him inside.

“Can Kylo come in too?” She showed him the scarf, “I don’t have a proper leash for him and I’d hate for him to get lost again when he’s so close to being home.”

He looked down at the dog and flinched. “Yeah he can definitely come in. I’ll give his … owner a call. If you want to grab a table?”

“Yeah, sure. Take your time,” she reassured as he smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. Kylo followed her as she grabbed one of the side tables by the big bay window.

“What was your master thinking,” Rey asked him as she shed her coat, “naming you something as nonsensical as ‘Kylo’.” She ran a hand down his neck, “though I probably shouldn’t be saying that to you, it’s not like you named yourself. Kylo is a wonderful name for such a wonderful dog.” He laid head on her thigh. “I know, I’m sorry. I wont make fun of you anymore.”

The same waiter as before passed her with two lattes in hand. “I got a hold of someone, they’ll be by to pick him up in less then half an hour. If you can’t wait you can just leave him with me and I’ll see that he gets back.”

“No, I’ll wait.” She grinned up at him sheepishly, “I need to be the one to make sure he gets home.”

“I get it.” The man glance down at Kylo then away with a smile. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”

“No, that’s,” she started but he was already out the door, “okay.”

Rey sighed, it wasn’t as if a sandwich would break the bank. And she was hunger after all that walking. And she did get paid tomorrow. With a shrug she flipped open a menu left on an empty neighboring table.

“Does your owner come here often?” she found herself asking Kylo. “What does he usually get?”

She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not when he nosed at the turkey club.

When the waiter, Paul was his name, came back round she ordered the sandwitch with the chicken noodle soup. She fed the strips of bacon to Kylo as they waited for whoever was going to pick him up to show.

A newer silver SUV style car pulled up to the curb outside the cafe. A woman draped in an elegant black shawl stepped out, her hair expertly coiffured. She set her sunglasses atop her hair as she entered the eatery eyes immediately lasering in on Kylo before flicking up to Rey as she stood.

“I’m Leia Organa,” the woman offered her hand.

“Rey Johnston,” answered shaking it once, trying to remember why that name sounded familiar. “I thought Paul said his owner was a man.”

“My son.” Leia said succinctly her eyes glaring down Kylo. “I told him to be careful when … walking his dog.”

Rey set a protective hand on Kylo’s head. “Yes, your son should have been more careful but its not Kylo’s fault he got lost, he’s just a dog.”

“Kylo?” Leia asked confused. The dog woofed softly at his name. “Right, Kylo.”

“And your son should really get him identification tags. If he wasn’t so smart we would have never found you.”

“I will definitely be having words with my son,” Leia said fastening hard eyes on Kylo. Taking a calming breath she turned back to Rey. “I’m sorry of all inconvenience this has caused you,” she reached in her purse slipping out several bills from her wallet holding them out to her, “please take this for your troubles with my thanks.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Rey said with a smile folding her hands in her pockets. “But if you can ensure that something like this doesn’t happen again that’s all the thanks I need. Kylo is a really special dog, I would hate for something bad to happen to him.”

“As would I,” Leia set the money on the table. “Thank you for taking care of him. Come B...Kylo, it’s time to go home.” Leia nodded her head regaly to Rey before turning to the door. Kylo pressed himself against Rey’s leg before following the woman out.

Rey watched out the front window, trying not to feel depressed as the car pulled way.

“It was less than a day,” she scolded herself. She was usually better with this kind of thing, it was the name reason she hadn't given Kylo a name in the intrume, she knew he would be leaving and she didn’t want to make a connection. And here she was sniveling over a dog.

She let out a gusty sigh, eye’s catching on the money out of the corner of her eye. Leia really shouldn’t have given her anything, it was her son’s dog to begin with and secondly Rey hadn't been looking for a reward. Absently she counted it, blinked, then counted it again more thoroughly.

Five hundred dollars.

She looked up with the half baked thought of running after the long gone car to give the money back. Who the heck just drops five hundred dollars in some random person’s hands. Shaking her head she walked up to the coffee bar.

“Paul?” The waiter looked up from adding a dusting of cinnamon to a drink. “You said you were friends with that woman’s son, right?”

He raised an eyebrow, “yes?”

“Can you give him something to return to her the next time you see him?”

“I don’t see him all that often,” he hedged frothing milk for a second drink and not getting eye contact.

“You can probable send it to her office,” the nice woman manning the Cash register said as she rang up Rey’s lunch.

“Her office,” she questioned handing over her bank card for payment.

“Yeah, the City Hall.” The woman said with a smile giving her the receipt to sign. “That was Mayor Organa.”

Rey went to work that night with the five hundred dollars in a marked envelope just waiting for a stamp. A stamp she wasn’t sure if she was going to put on it, thinking of the horrors of having some much untraceable cash lost in the mail. But it would be presumptuous to show up at the Mayor’s place of work, wouldn’t it?

“Rey,” her shift manager called over the pounding techno beat, “we need more glasses!”

Nodding her head to show she heard, Rey grabbed the bin of Dirties and carried it in the back. Returning with a loaded tray of Cleans she saw a man scanning behind the bar. His eyes immediately locked on her as she stepped through the swinging door, a charming smile on his lips. He was good looking; tall with dark hair just a bit longer than average and an aquiline nose.

Setting her burden down she half turned to ask over her shoulder as she stacked cups, ”can I get you something to drink?”

“No.” For a second it was as if his voice cut straight through all the noise of the loud bar. “I’ve come to return something.” His large hands set a bundle of charcoal material on the bar.

Recognising the material she nearly snorted in derision. He seemed a bit old to be having his mother step in to fix is mistakes but then again some people just never grew up, she’d served enough drinks to them to know the kind. “You must be Solo.”

“Ben,” he introduced, leaning on the bar as he offered his hand. Rey knew it would have been rude not to take it though she disengaged quickly. “I wanted to come and thank you,” his full lips twitched, “in person.”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed turning her back on him tension in the line of her shoulders.

“You’re angry,” he questioned, “why.”

She slammed the last glass down tucking the tray under arm as she pivoted on him. “Do you have any idea how badly it could have gone with Kylo last night? He had no form on identification, no way to get home. He could have been hit by a car or taken to the pound or worse and nobody would have ever know.”

“Yes,” the smile on his lips died, eyes turning haunted. “Things would have gone a lot worse if you didn’t see him when you did.” Rey was surprised by the seriousness in his voice. But it was gone quickly replace with that same charming smile.  “So what do you do when your not working or out rescuing stray dogs?”

“Kylo’s not a stray,” she snapped. She bit her lip wishing she could have bitten her tongue before speaking. She quickly began cutting lime wedges for drink garnish.

“What do you mean?” Ben asked after a pause.

“Kylo was lost,” she emphasize, eyes glued on the cutting board. “He is not a stray. There’s a differences.”

“And what is that difference, Rey?”  Her head shot up at his intimate tone. Again it felt like his words surrounded her, cutting out the other sounds.

“‘Stray’ means your not wanted, ‘lost’ means somebody cares enough to look for you,” she found herself answering without really thinking. Annoyed with herself her tone turned caustic, “And how do you know my name?”

He sat back as if she had physically snapped at him instead of just verbally. “My, uh, mother. She must have mentioned it when she was dropping off Kylo.”

“Yeah, your mother Mayor Oranga. I can’t believe you didn’t even care enough to come pick him up yourself,” she shook her head.

Remembering that afternoon and Leia made her remember the envelope she had in her bag. Rey flagged down her manager from across the bar, tapping her wrist twice then mining cracking something in half. The other woman nodded turning back to her own customer.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back.” Rey glared over her shoulder at Kylo’s owner before as she turned away. She returned in under a minute with the money filled envelope which she handed over the bar to the man. “Can you see that your mother gets this? She forgot it when she picked up your dog. And keep the scarf, it looks better on Kylo then it ever did on me.”

Curiously he drew the paper under his nose as if scenting it. There was an amused curl to his lips when his eyes flashed up to hers. “My mother is not a forgetful person,” he said sliding the envelope back across the lacord finish wood. “I’m sure whatever this is, she intended for you to have it.”

Forcefully Rey set her fingers on the opposite edge and pushed it back to him, eye’s hard. “I don’t let others make up for someone else’s mistake.”

“How about you let me make up for it.” That curle turned into a full blown grin. “Dinner?”

Her eye’s raked over him. If she had met him in any other way, in any other place, she would have said yes.

When she got back on after her break he was gone. Tucked next to her cutting board was the envelope with a newly inked seven digit number on its corner.

“Is there something I can help you with, miss?” the secretary asked in a chipper voice with a kind smile.

“I, uh, have a letter. For Le-- Mrs. Ora-- the Mayor?” Rey stuttered wanting the tasteful beige carpet to swallow her.

“If you’ll give me just a second I’ll check if she’s in.”

“No, that’s okay. I could just leave--” the woman was already up and though the frosted glass door that lead to what Rey assumed was back offices.

Fidgeting awkwardly with the envelope Rey resigned herself with waiting. Catching the ten-thirty bus into the center of town she had been half hoping to catched Leia when she was out on lunch, wanting only to drop off the money and then move on to do her grocery shopping. She wanted to make Paige dinner for being so cool with the Kylo fiasco. She was thinking spaghetti and then they could take the leftovers for lunch--

Rey nearly jumped out of her skin when the secretary returned. “Leia will see you now.”

Leia Organa was seated behind her chrome and glass desk paperwork spread before her. She look just as regal today as she had yesterday, the gold beaded jacket adding a seasonal flare to her wardrobe. She frowned slightly behind the glasses perched on the edge of her nose. That quickly cleared when she recognised who had walked through her door.

“Aw, Ms. Johnston. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just want to make sure you got this,” Rey said walking up to the desk and laying the envelope down before scurrying back to her place by the door. “I also wanted to ask how Kylo was.”

“He’s fine,” Leia answered absently running her fingers over the several scratch marks that blackened the bottom corner. “Is this my son’s phone number?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rey winced. She knew she should have put it in a new envelope but she had gotten that one from work and hadn’t wanted to ask for a replacement. “He stopped by my place of business last night. I tried giving it to him to give to you but he wouldn’t do it.”

“That sounds like him,” Leia sighed. She waved the envelope infront of her before setting it on the edge of the desk. “But that doesn't change the fact that I gave this to you for helping my son.”

“I helped Kylo and him getting back home is all the thanks I want.” Rey nodded her head, only just stopping herself from actually bowing. “Sorry for taking up your time. Have a nice day.” Before Leia could think of stopping her she turned and bolted.

Rey didn’t like being around politicians. Something about all that artifice made her skin crawl. It always felt like they were three steps ahead and lying through their teeth about it. And as cordial as Leia seemed Rey hadn't missed the pinching of the older woman’s lips when she had recognised the random sequence of digits or that her first instinct had been to throw money at Rey for her services.

Nodding to the security guard on duty as she steps through the glass front doors Rey is distracted enough that she runs right into someone trying to enter. A starbucks cup goes flying, spilling its contents on the concrete.

“I’m so sorry,” she starts mortified.

“Rey?”

She looks up. Of course it was Kylo’s neglectful owner looking like a poster child for Menswear Monthly. His glasses and the professional looking laptop case on his shoulder made the look more human instead of airbrushed but Rey still wished she could just disappear. She’d taken some care with her appearance but she still was only planning on going to the grocery store.

He seems just as surprised to see her as she was. “What are you doing here?”

She tried not to flinch at the shock in his voice still feeling a bit raw from her appointment with the mayor. “I came to see your mother.” She frowned, “but if you were going to see her today anyway you could have saved me the trip.”

“You returned the money?”

Rey’s hand’s went cold with the knowledge that he new his mother had paid her. “Yes,” she bit out.

“You didn’t have to,” he said softly closing the space between them.

“Yes, I did.” She took a deep breath tried to shake her defensive anger. “Look, I’m sorry for your coffee, let me spot you for another one.”

He held up a hand, “it was mostly gone anyway.” He got a sly look in his eye, ”though if you really want to make it up to me, you can accept my invitation to dinner.”

“I’m not doing this.” She dug in her pocket and counted out five ones, grabbing his hand and slapping them in it. “Buy your next coffee on me. I’m sorry I crashed into you.”

She turned and walked away knowing it was just her furtive imagination that made her think he said, “I’m not.”

Halloween was busy at the club, something about alcohol and costumes seemed to draw the weird out of people. Last year, a month into the job, Rey had dressed to the nines as a forest spirit, spending days making her costume from thrift store finds and random things she had at the apartment. She had walked home defeated with her broken paper mache antlers smelling of a medley of spilt drinks and one woman’s throw up.

This year Rey new better. Her minimum hassle costume consisted of a black tank top and short-shorts that she already owned and a tail and headband set she had picked up from the dollar store.

“It’s crazy tonight, must be the full moon,” one of the servers, Sasha, said coming up to the bar for a new round of drinks. She cast concerned eyes over Rey, “you do have a ride home tonight, right?”

Rey smiled over at her, touched, in the midst of making Frankenstein’s Monster a haunted martini. “I only live a few blocks up, I’ll be fine.”

“North or south?” A cheesy dracula, already two of his three sheets to the wind, asked from perch at the bar. “I’ll be more than happy to walk a pretty girl home.”

Sasha and her shared a look as Rey loaded the tray with a dozen shot glasses, filling them with tonight’s cotton candy colored special. They were cheap to make, tasted disgusting, and were selling like hot cakes.

“Thanks,” Rey gave her customer service smile, already use to this song and dance, “but I already got a boyfriend.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” the man slurred drunkully.

Rey chose to ignore him as Sasha took up her tray to wade back in the fray. Instead she turned to get the order of the third ‘Jake from State Farm’ she’d seen that night.

The rest of the night was pretty much a blur of progressively drunker people. She had started early and didn’t have closing so it was one-thirty when Rey stepped out of the back doors of the club. Just like she had predicted she had a whole tray of those cotton candy shots tipped on her when a zombie cheerleader and an awesome Princess Mononoke’s San had been started making out a bit aggressively. So instead of doning her coat, she was carrying it and freezing her butt off.

“Hey pretty girl, need someone to warm you up.”

“Your place or mine, kitty cat?”

She ignored the group drunken fools standing outside the front of the club smoking cigarettes and kept walking, way too tired to deal with their bull shit. She did, however, turn when they screamed.

One man was in the middle of the sidewalk on his ass. A large hulking mass radiating menice stood over the the terrified man. His friends stood frozen against the wall not knowing what to do. The dog made a step forward, a silent snarl shaking his body. This wasn’t good.

“Kylo, come.” The animal went rigid at the command. Slowly its great head turned away from its prey to eye her over a massive black shoulder. Rey’s eyes narrowed, she was having none of that, “I said come.”

Not waiting for him she turned and continued up the sidewalk. After a tense second she heard his nails on the cement as he stalked to her side. Not looking down she laid a hand on his warm head, icy fingers sinking into thick fur.

“Yo bitch! I was just trying to be nice, you didn’t have to sic your dog on me!” One of them men yelled, out of danger their drunk brains turned back on.

Kylo hesitated at her side as if he understood. She kept walking keeping her hand in his fur and he kept pace so as not to loose contract with her.

It took half way to getting home for Rey to lose the tension keeping her body going. She would have collapsed to the concrete it an early rain hadn’t wettened the ground, she didn’t want a wet but on top over everything else. So she locked her legs taking several deep breaths and letting them ghost around her as she let them out slowly. Kylo whined.

“I’m alright, boy,” she reassured rubbing tiredly at her face, it was just the adrenaline crash that was making her eyes tear up. She looked over to him and force a smile, “Paige is going to be so pissed at me when she sees you.”

He bumped up against her leg warming the chilled skin.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it. But, as Sensei says, its better to walk away instead of escalate things.” She patted him on the head. ”You never acted aggressive before, should I be scared of you?” she wondered aloud.

He licked her fingers, burying his muzzle in her palm and looking up at her with big puppy dog eyes.

She smiled, for real this time, and gave his chin a good scratch. “Let’s go home.”

[katymacsupernatural]

Stories to Awaken Terror Part 2: Hookman

Dean Winchester x Reader

2500 Words

Story Summary: As a couple of kids read a scary book, Sam, Dean and Y/N live those scary tales. Will they be able to figure out what’s causing the hunts before it’s too late?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“Are we really reading another chapter?” Sophia asked as they carried out sleeping bags to throw into the tent. Sophia shivered with the thought of listening to another story, but her brother and his friend seemed adamant that they continue with the story.

“Sophia if you don’t want to listen to the story, why don’t you stay inside and have a tea party with your stuffed animals,” her brother Zach teased, making Tyler laugh.

“No, I want to stay out here tonight. I was just hoping we could do something else. That book is freaky,” she spoke softly. Both boys looked at each, feeling the same, but they weren’t going to be the first to admit how much the book scared them.

With a belly full of hot dogs and beans, the kids settled into their tent as the sun slid down behind the trees. Their parents laughter could still be heard from the house, the lights from the TV flashing through the window. But none of that mattered now. Nothing mattered but the book in Zach’s hand, and the pounding of each of their hearts as they watched him slowly open it.

“What are we...um...what’s this chapter about?” Tyler stuttered, as Sophia held her stuffed zebra to her chest.

“This one is about the hookman,” Zach said as he stared down at the book. “Are you ready?”

Both taking a breath, Sophia and Tyler nodded. With the lantern beside him, Zach started reading.

The ground was soft as Ryan’s truck drove through the forest. Tree branches reached out, scraping both sides of the truck, like eerie fingers reaching for help. You held on tightly to the handle of the door as Ryan continued down the pitted road. Night had fallen, casting creepy shadows throughout, and you were starting to wonder why you were out here in the middle of the forest. With a man you hardly even knew.

“Sam, have you heard from Y/N?” Dean bellowed through the bunker, his boots pounding on the tile as he searched through the large building, trying to find his brother. He was worried, scared, and he hated that feeling. But he had a feeling something wasn’t right, and his feelings usually were right.  “Sam!” He bellowed, frustration making his mood on edge.

“Dean, I’m in here. Give me a minute!” Sam yelled from the bathroom.

Not wanting to waste another second, Dean sighed, kicked the wall with his boot before turning and resting against his, crossing his arms. Seconds ticked by, and he was about ready to barge in on Sam when finally his brother came out. His hair was still sopping wet, his shirt plastered to his skin. “What couldn’t wait until I was out of the shower?” He asked, towel drying his hair.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” Dean asked, carefully pronouncing each word in annoyance. His entire body was on edge, every little thing annoying him more than it should have.

“Not since Monday,” Sam answered, scrunching up his nose as he thought. “But why the big deal? She’s been gone like this before.”

“Not when everything’s been so weird,” Dean argued. “These past few weeks haven’t been normal, and you know that. She usually calls to check in by now, and I haven’t heard anything.”

“So call her,” Sam suggested.

“No shit, you think I haven’t already thought of that,” Dean muttered. “I’ve tried. Multiple times and it just goes to voicemail.”

“Damn it,” Sam sighed. “That’s not like her.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Dean yelled at his brother. “Now, I’ll go get baby packed, you trace her phone.”

Before Sam could even answer, Dean was bounding down the hall, no doubt already planning how he could save the damsel in distress. And if Y/N ever heard those words muttered about her, she would kill him.

“Ryan, what are we doing out here?” You asked, trying to figure things out as he continued to head farther into the forest.

“Honey, I thought you knew what we’re going to be doing out here,” he teased, winking at you before turning his attention back to the road. “Just right around this bend and we’ll be there.”

Keeping your gaze forward, Y/N watched as he rounded a set of trees, the riverbank coming into view. A bridge was off to the side, and you knew to some it was probably a romantic, secluded place to be alone. But to you, it was creepy, with it’s dark shadows. The wind made the trees dance, whistling against Ryan’s truck. Something scurried into the bushes, and you wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave this place in the dust.

Truthfully, you had no idea how you were even out here to begin with. You really didn’t know this Ryan, even though it felt like you should. It felt like there was an invisible force pushing you towards him, and towards an inevitable end, and you hated that feeling more than anything. “Ryan, listen. I think you’re a great man and all, but I think we need to go back,” you started to say, but before you could say anything else, Ryan was on you. One hand wrapped around your neck, the other sliding under your shirt as he crushed his lips to yours.

Fighting to get away, the sound of metal against metal had both of you pausing. “What was that?” Ryan asked, pulling away from you.

“Maybe you should go check?” You suggested.

“It’s probably the wind moving the branches,” he insisted. “Now back to more important things.”

“Ryan, stop!” You tried to say but he had pulled you under him, his body pressed against yours, his hands roaming your skin as you tried to fight him off.

“What the hell is she doing in Iowa?” Dean muttered as he sped down the highway. “She was supposed to having a girl’s weekend with Jody and Donna.”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed, realizing that maybe his brother and friend were right. Maybe there was something more going on with these hunts than he originally thought. But how would they ever figure it out. There’s been no clues that they’ve noticed so far. Nothing that put all of these hunts together. “But her phone was on the move, so I guess that’s good news, even if she isn’t answering it.”

His jaw clenched, Dean continued to drive, trying to figure out why this little town sounded so familiar. “Hey Sam, have we been to this town before?”

“I don’t remember,” Sam muttered, searching through his father’s journal, trying to dredge up memories. “Oh wait, we have! This was where we hunted the hookman!”

“Maybe you’ll run into that college girl again,” Dean teased, even though there wasn’t much heat behind it.

It was a couple of hours later Dean passed the welcome sign, city lights in front of him. Without looking, Dean reached out, smacking Sam, waking him up. “We’re here. I need to know where to turn next.”

Sam pulled out his laptop as Dean parked in front of a coffee shop, using their free internet to search for Y/N’s whereabouts. “Dean, this doesn’t make any sense. Her phone’s stopped, and it’s showing her off in the middle of nowhere. By the river. Wait, it looks like we actually past her, a couple of miles back!”

Dean’s heart dropped when he heard Sam’s news. It could mean the worst possible situation. That someone had dropped her body off to never be found. Or dumped her phone, and his only clue would be gone. “Damn it,” he muttered, turning the Impala around, hoping that neither of his guesses were right. That Y/N was still okay. Because he would never be able to forgive himself if she wasn’t.

Pushing Ryan away as hard as you could, you curled up against the window, breathing heavily. This isn’t what you wanted. You wanted to be back in the bunker, with Dean. “Dean,” you breathed out, realizing why this felt so wrong. You weren’t supposed to be out in the middle of nowhere, with this strange man. You had no clue how you had come to be out here in the first place.

“You’re cheating on me?” He asked, just as another loud scratch sounded on your side of the truck, shaking the vehicle as it went. “What the hell is that?” He asked, turning to get a glimpse out of the window. “Damn it, is someone messing with me?”

“Ryan, I don’t think you should go out there,” you whispered as the scratch stopped.

“I’ll do whatever I want,” he muttered, throwing the door open and stepping out. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your phone, frustrated when it refused to turn on.

“What the hell is going on?” You whispered, knowing that as a hunter you should go out and protect Ryan, even if he was being an asshole. But you couldn’t force yourself to move, even when you heard footsteps on your side of the car. “Ryan, damn it! Get back in the truck!”

Before he could answer, the loud scratch came on his side of the truck, before Ryan let out a shrill scream. “No!” He squeaked, the truck shaking before everything stopped.

Shivering, you waited, hoping that Ryan would come back to the truck. Your side was locked, but you were scared if it wasn’t Ryan, it could be whatever had taken him.

Trying to stay calm, you opened his glove box, looking for a  weapon, when something thudded on the hood of the truck with enough force to dent the metal, forcing a scream from your lips. Finding nothing but old gum wrappers and parking tickets, you slammed the trunk box closed. Leaning forward, you felt the blood rushing from your face. Ryan lay there staring at you, his eyes blank. His head was separated from his body, his body laying towards the front of the hood.

“No,” you whispered, pushing back against the seat, trying to get away from the grisly scene in front of you. Your heart pounding furiously, you froze when the familiar metal screeching was heard on the driver’s side once more. The side that still had the door unlocked.

“I’m so sorry baby,” Dean cooed to his car as he coaxed it down the pitted road. “Are you sure this is the way?”

“This is the only road to her location,” Sam insisted. “I’m sorry Dean, but if you want to check out this lead, this is the way we need to go.”

“I know,” Dean grumbled, continuing to move forward, even though he wasn’t sure he was ready to see what could be in front of him. What seemed like it took forever, but was only a couple of minutes later, Dean finally stopped the Impala. “We have to go the rest on foot. The pits in the road are too deep.”

It didn’t take long for them to gather up the items they would need. Without knowing what they would encounter, they grabbed a multitude of weapons. “Dean, I don’t know what we’re going to see when we get up here, but I need you to stay calm.”

“Sam, this is Y/N that’s in danger. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back.”

Lunging towards the door handle, trying to reach the lock as the scratching grew closer. Frantic, you felt your foot get stuck against the gear shift, and you lost precious seconds as you fought it. With your hand barely on the door, you felt it gave away underneath your  fingers, being pulled away from the outside. “No,” you cried, trying to pull back, away from the evil monster standing there. Wearing a wide, black brimmed hat, blood splattered black duster, and hook instead of a hand, he looked very much the creepy pirate.

Struggling to get away, you screamed when he reached in, grasping your hair and pulling you out. Fighting to get away, his evil laughter had you kicking backwards. Doing anything to get away. “You’ll join that cheating man as well,” he muttered, his hook moving forward to rest on your throat.

The feel of the cold metal against your skin had you freezing, your eyes wide as you tried to figure out a way out of this. Things weren’t looking good. Sam and Dean had no idea where you were, and without a weapon, you were just another victim.

“Leave her alone!” Dean bellowed, his gun trained on the monster. Thanking whatever had brought Dean about, you stayed still.

Before the hookman could sink his hook into your skin, Dean squeezed the trigger, the bullet finding its way straight into the hookman’s forehead.

The hook slid across your skin, slicing, but not deep enough to kill as he fell backwards, his eyes as glassy as Ryan’s. Tottering where you stood, Dean raced over, catching you before you fell. “Well, that didn’t work the last time we were here,” he muttered, staring down at the lifeless body.

“That’s because it’s not the original hookman,” Sam spoke up, coming around the side. “Dean, we killed the original, and this one messed up on a couple of things. First, the original hookman didn’t decapitate his victim’s. Second of all, the hook is on the wrong hand. This is some guy pretending to be him.”

“I don’t care who it was, it was creepy,” you muttered, clinging tight to Dean.

“Y/N, how did you even get here to begin with?” Dean asked the million dollar question.

“I have no idea,” you whispered. “I remember leaving the bunker to head to South Dakota, and then nothing until Ryan was driving us out here.”

“Guys, I might have found something!” Sam called. With his arm still wrapped around you, you walked over to the truck, trying to keep your gaze away from Ryan’s severed head. Sam stood there, holding up a small piece of paper, weathered. Glancing down, you saw your name on it, along with some sort of symbol. It was ripped on three sides, and you had no idea what it meant.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dean insisted, keeping you close to him, all three of you confused and worried. Leaving the bodies for the police to stumble upon someday.

“Zach, that was pretty scary,” Sophia whispered, cuddled into her sleeping bag.

“Sure, it was scary. But why do the people always get away?” Tyler asked.

Turning to the next chapter, Zach smiled at his friend. “Well, you’re in luck. Looks like next week’s story is even scarier, and gory!”

Dean/Jensen Tags:@acreativelydifferentlove @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @anokhi07 @aubreystilinski @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @colette2537 @crusadedean @deanwinchesters-impala67 @haelyn @horsegirly99 @ikeneasul11 @its-not-a-tulpa @just-another-winchester @librarygeekery @msimpala67 @lenaabs @love-charmer-sketch @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice @sleep-silent-angel @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @thesaneone @torn-and-frayed @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Stories to Awaken Terror Tags: @joseyrw @suckystoryteller @salt-n-burn-em-all @wingedcatninja @waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @horsegirly99 @profoundly-bitchy-collection @jae-sch @sociopathtime @depressed-moose-78 @sophiebobzz @oreosatmidnight @librarygeekery @winchesterxtwo @asirammm @itsmerighthere @squirrelnotsam @esoltis280 @karmamariejoy @linki-locks11 @xthelittlethings @incredibly-sarcastic-url @alwayskeepfightingkaz-2y5 @imascio08 @deansbabygirl01 @deansgirl215 @sasquatch5 @kay18115 @gh0stgurl @quackerstheduck663057

Forever Tags: @16wiishes @4401lnc @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @angelsandwinchesters @anspgene @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @bemyqueenofdarkness @bohowitch @bumber-car-s @brooke-supernatural16  @brunettechick @camelotandastronauts @captainradicalpassion @chelsea072498 @clairese1980 @captainemwinchester @createdbybadappreciation @darthdeziewok @destiels-new-girl @donnaintx @dont-you-dare-say-misha @dslocum89 @duckieburns @docharleythegeekqueen @emmazach @emilicious-7 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @essie1876 @generalgoldfishldrm @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @herbologystudent252 @hms-fangirl @hobby27 @ichooseeternalplaces @imboredsueme @internationalmusicteacher @ithinkimadorable-67 @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jbbarnesgirl @jensen-gal @just-another-busy-fangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @keelzy2 @leanbeankeane @li-ssu @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice @luciferslucille @maui137 @mellowlandrunaway @mogaruke @my-squirrel-and-moose @nanie5 @newtospnfandom @offbeatsilhouette @percussiongirl2017​ @pilaxia @pizzarollpatrol @plaid-lover-bay25​ @ronja-uebrick @rosegoldquintis​ @roxyspearing​ @samaxraph99 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @smoothdogsgirl @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @sunskittlex @starry-chaos @superbadassnatural @teamfreewill92 @thebikiniinspector @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tmccarney @totallovelesson @tunadean @vvinch3st3r @walkslikesummeractslikerain @whimsicalrobots @wildlandfox @winchesterbrothers-inc @winchesterxtwo @winchester-writes @worldwidehansum @zombiewerewolfqueen

[kenzieam]

Stars and Shadows - Chapter 1 (Ivar and Sera)

Rating: M - Mature

Genre: General, maybe some drama and angst, definitely some romance and smut

@fuckyeahalexhoghandersen-deacti@my-emotional-self @bloodyivar @lupy22 @fortress-fiction @heathensisterwives @kduran04 @charliexowrite @angryschnauzer @rachiieeeee @ivarinleatherpants @ivars-heathen-army @neonxwitch @theheathenqueendickubus @dangerousvikings @zpandaqueen @irishhiggins  @didiintheblog  @mercy1997 @kawennote09  @iammarylastar @sparklemichele @son-of-anubis  @beltzboys2015-blog @paranoia-love @captstefanbrandt  @ivars-valkyrie @fullpeanutkoala @ruler-of-helheim @poopercoot @magical-mischief-makers

@angelswannawearmyredshooz @kc-7 @laketaj24 @ithinkthatsmykink @josthockeythings @pansexualpancakeslife @read-all-day @g4u15

@chessurkait @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @dina-m16 @cxde-black @lol-haha-joke @sashli @jnecrobutcher @kickbacksnextdoor @funmadonahoghbadassvikings @dhunhdchrih @part-time-thot @proudcoiler88 @katshitcrazy @romanchronicles

*If you want to be added or delete to the above list, let me know*

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This is a new Ivar and Sera AU story, set in modern times. I’m not really sure where I’m going with it yet, or what direction the characters are going to end up going, but I hope you follow with me…..

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Okay, things had just gone from ‘surprise’ to ‘knock you on your ass-surprise’. Not only had my mother just appeared out of nowhere to inform me that she was getting married, but that she had moved in with him and wanted me to as well. I’ve been living with my aunt for the last year and some; after my dad died mom was really messed up and I kept it a secret as long as I could, making my own lunches, keeping the house and yard presentable, going to school; but a surprise visit from dad’s sister had blown all that out of the water.

I’d been doing my homework, quietly, in my room so as not to disturb mom; she was in bed with a headache when Aunt Cecelia walked in. I hadn’t had a chance to clean yet, this paper was due Monday, and mom had been on a tear the night before, pulling out all of the old pictures I’d packed away and crying over them in the living room, leaving them scattered along with broken dishes (thrown in grief-stricken rage) and tissues (sopping wet with tears and snot) before stumbling back to her bed around dawn to cry and nurse her headache. Mom had always gotten headaches, and only dad rubbing her feet and back and snuggling with her had seemed to help; she’d had problems with drugs before I’d been born so she didn’t want to take painkillers willy-nilly, but I’d seen her popping a few lately and I’d been getting worried, but not sure who I could call.

Aunt Cecelia had decided to visit, being in town for some natural healing convention, and had been staggered by the mess. My door had flown open, revealing this crazed-looking woman with wide eyes and a shocked face. It took me a minute to recognize my dad’s older sister. Within days she’d gotten mom sent off to some rehab place upstate and put the house in some sort of trust and moved me in with her three hundred miles away; to be honest, I was relieved; I was only 15, I wasn’t ready to be an adult yet.

Anyway, mom had flourished in rehab, gotten her head back on straight and met a guy, and here we were.

“Mom, I….. move in with you?” I wasn’t adverse to the idea, but this was all kind of sudden. My aunt hovered nearby; I knew she was divided on what she wanted me to do. She had given up her free-spirited ways to be my mother for the last year and her wanderlust was strong again. I’d heard a friend of hers a few days ago out in Cecelia’s terrace wheeze and choke as he toked before sending the joint Cecelia’s way and bring up this yoga retreat they wanted her to join them at, in Thailand. Cecelia had been all over the world, doing the downward dog at the base of this volcano and that mountain and I wanted her to experience that again. And, I missed my mom, I wanted to be with her again; the choice was simple actually, now that I thought of it.

“Okay.”

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** The house was big; a mansion even, with columns. The guy’s name was Harald Black and today I was meeting him for the first time. Mom had already picked out her colour scheme for the wedding and I still hadn’t even met step-daddy. Stop it, I growled in my head. Mom’s happy and that’s what matters. If he turns out to be an asshole, go back to Cecelia’s. But somehow I didn’t think he would be. The pictures mom had showed a thick, muscular man with auburn hair and a beard, kind eyes crinkling with laugh lines. He and mom had met as some grieving survivor’s meeting connected to her rehab. Harald had been there because he’d lost his wife Astrid in a horrible accident and not surprisingly had been having a tough time dealing with it. Their courtship had been whirlwind and Harald’s proposal sudden, but they seemed to really share a bond, so who was I to judge?

Two absolute monsters of dogs, or small horses maybe, came running as mom pulled up the winding driveway. I recognized one as a Rottweiler, but the other was some shaggy, snarling creature that didn’t look the least bit friendly. I hesitated to get out as mom stopped the car but she didn’t pause, throwing the door open and standing up.

“Balder! Brandt! Sit.” Both dogs went instantly quiet, dropping their ass so fast I almost heard the whoosh. Both panted up at her and I swear their snarls were smiles now. She glanced over at me. “C’mon out, they’re harmless.”

My ass, I grumbled, but got out anyway. In seconds I was surrounded by panting beasts, but they were whining and licking my hands like puppies. I tried an experiment. “Sit.” Whoomp. Wow.

“Harald has them very well-trained.” Mom explained.

“Yes,” came a deep voice. “At their size, they could hurt someone very easily.”

I turned, seeing my future stepfather for the first time. He was dressed casual, but expensively and I sensed that Harald liked the finer things in life. His khakis were pressed and fitted, his plaid shirt the same, making him look like an LL Bean model. His hair was long on top and shaved on the sides, pulled back into a high ponytail and it looked like he’d trimmed his beard. His smile was genuine as he stepped towards me and extended his hand.

“Hello Sera, I’m Harald.” His voice was deep and soft, and I found myself liking him immediately.

“Hi,” I took his hand and he shook it, the grip softer than I’d expect, but still dominating. He knew he was powerful and intimidating, and didn’t need to show it off constantly; he reminded me of dad.

Letting go of my hand he stepped back and his arm went around mom’s waist in a familiar, easy movement. It’s like they were made for each other, I thought suddenly.

“I hope you’ll feel welcome here, this is your home now too.” His eyes crinkled. “Would you like to see your wing?”

Wing? The house was way bigger than I’d first thought, extending back into the yard, not visible from the road. I did indeed get my own wing, with a huge bedroom, bathroom and great room, with a balcony out of my bedroom that looked out over the trees at the side of the house. I caught sight of another house perhaps a half-mile away through the dense trees. It was huge as well, but where Harald’s house was square and palatial, this house was long and rambling, extending out in all directions in what would have been haphazard if it wasn’t so pristine.

It captured my attention, this lodge for lack of a better word and I didn’t hear Harald until he was beside me, leaning on the railing with his forearms.

“That’s the Lothbroks,” he said. “Ragnar and I are business partners and friends.”

“Big house,” was all I could manage to say.

Harald chuckled. “Well, there’s a lot of them; five sons, Ragnar and his wife Aslaug. Plus a whole menagerie of animals and pets. Aslaug is forever taking in strays. The sons are all mostly grown, but I think the youngest is your age. Sixteen?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, Ivar is your age. He has his problems, but he’s also strong and smart; he’ll go far in this world if he gets rid of the chip on his shoulder.”

“You know them well?”

Harald chuckled again. “I’m their godfather, every one of them except the oldest, Bjorn. He’s from Ragnar’s first marriage. They’re a rowdy bunch, I’ll give you a few days to settle in before I set them loose on you.”

A strange warmth hit me then and my mouth opened before I even knew what was going to come out. “Thank you, Harald. I mean, I don’t know you at all, but you’re welcoming me into your house and….. mom seems really happy again…. it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her smile like this. I think you saved her.” Oh god, word vomit.

Something flashed in Harald’s eyes and they looked a little brighter. “My pleasure, you are welcome here… and you’re wrong, Lila saved me.” He was silent for a moment before pushing off of the railing with a groan. His hand landed on my shoulder and after a half-second of surprise, from both of us, it suddenly felt completely natural.

“Supper in ten minutes, can you find your way to the dining room?” He was only half-joking.

“I’ll be good, thanks… Harald.”

He nodded and left.

I turned back with a sigh. I’d almost done it. The pause before his name hadn’t been because I’d forgotten it, but because I’d been that close to calling him dad.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** The frickin’ house was huge. Three days later and I was still finding new places to explore. In all fairness, I’d gotten distracted by the home theatre, and the swimming pool, and spent the better part of two days just there, but still; this was a hell of a huge place for one guy. Well, that wasn’t entirely true either, he’d lived here with Astrid and one whole wing (that stayed locked) was for his brother Halfdan whenever he stopped by, but it was still big. Our house with dad had been simple and plain, dad’s cop salary only going so far every month, and Aunt Cecelia’s house was an eclectic cottage, so I wasn’t used to palatial sprawl. I also wasn’t used to household staff, but Harald employed a housekeeper named Martha and a part-time cook named Phoebe, plus he had a parade of people coming and going all day; a personal trainer, assistants from work, and Ragnar Lothbrok.  

I first bumped into Harald’s business partner on my second day; I’d emerged from the home theatre for a snack, turned a corner and literally ran smack into him. Large hands caught my shoulders to steady me, which was good, because Ragnar was built like a brick house and I’d been well on my way to falling on my surprised ass. I’d stumbled away, face going red, not sure if this was something I could expect trouble for or not and chanced a look up at him. His smile was immediately disarming, his blue eyes dancing with mischievousness.

“You must be Sera. I’m Ragnar.” He extended his hand and his voice washed over me like gentle rain; there was just something…. comforting about the man.

“Yes, hi. Sorry about that, I should be watching where I’m going.”

Ragnar waved his hand. “No harm. Are you settling in alright?”

“Yeah, thanks. Harald’s been really nice.”

Ragnar nodded, “We were worried about him for awhile after Astrid died, but I’ve never seen him happier since he met your mom; that’s all he’s ever wanted really, a family.”

I blushed full-on then. “I don’t know if you could call us that yet-”

Ragnar smiled, reached down and clucked me under the chin. “Trust me, he’s already slipped and called you his daughter. And warned me to keep my sons away until you’d had a chance to get your bearings.”

Jesus, could my face get any redder? And yet, standing here with Ragnar, a guy I didn’t know from a hole in the ground, wasn’t weird or anything; like Harald, we just seemed to fit, I could see him as an uncle or something.

“Ah, Ragnar. There you are, and you’ve met Sera, good! I was hoping you’d get a chance to soon.” Harald called, approaching us from his office down the hall. He stopped near us and smiled down at me. “How are you Sera, I haven’t gotten a chance to check up with you today.”

“Found your theatre,” I smiled shyly. “I love your collection of indies and foreign films.”

“Go crazy,” Harald smiled. “Live it up, school doesn’t start until next week.”

I started a new private school next week and from what I’d been told, would be in the same class as Ragnar’s youngest son, Ivar. Only Sigurd, the next youngest, was still going to school; the others, I think Harald said their names were Hvitserk, Ubbe and Bjorn, were already working for Ragnar’s company.

“Ready? Clint set the conference call for 1 pm sharp, and you know that prick means sharp.” Harald addressed Ragnar now.

A small knowing smile. “Yeah. It was nice to meet you, Sera. Hopefully Harald will accept Aslaug’s dinner invite soon and you can meet the rest of my family.”

“Soon,” Harald replied, slapping Ragnar’s shoulder in a way that looked like he considered Ragnar a brother as well as a friend. He smirked at me. “If Phoebe’s still around, ask her to make you her loaded nachos; but no jalapeños if you don’t like it hot.” He favoured me with one last smile before turning and walking away, Ragnar throwing me a wink before he followed.

Phoebe’s loaded nachos had, in fact, been the bomb and I’d had to stop myself from inhaling the whole damn plate.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** It was Saturday morning, and Harald had just looked up from his omelette to tell mom and I that he’d accepted Aslaug’s dinner invitation for tonight at 7. At mom’s flustering that she had nothing to wear Harald produced a shiny credit card and handed it to her, telling her to go out and get something to wear, and take me along too. Mom looked absolutely giddy, there’d been no room for such luxuries before, even with mom working too and the thought of just going out to buy clothes for a dinner was a novelty she hadn’t gotten used to yet.

I’d already climbed into mom’s new SUV while her and Harald were kissing good-bye. You’d worry mom was just using Harald for his money, or Harald was using mom for companionship, if it wasn’t so damn obvious that they were totally in love. I looked away after the fourth kiss, I mean come on, we were going shopping, not trekking up Kilimanjaro, but couldn’t stop my smile. It might have been traitorous to dad’s memory, but I was truly happy that mom had found Harald; and I think dad would have understood.

Mom found her dress fairly quickly, but it took time for me. I wasn’t a dress girl, never had been and I wasn’t eager to start now. Finally though, I found the one. Long-sleeved and ruched down the sides, it was a simple jersey-fabric black dress, cut to mid thigh and managed to make me look my age without turning me into a baby hooker. I could throw a sweater or a leather jacket over it easily to change it up, and the ruching meant the damn thing didn’t climb my legs like some dresses I’d had to wear before; no, I could play soccer in this and not have a problem. I might decide to live in it.

My hair hadn’t seen a stylist in a while; Aunt Cecelia was more of a ‘no-poo’ person and so mom bundled me into this place called The Chop Shop, and the girls inside were as fun as the name; I left two hours later with a long inverted bob, a few deep violet chunks peeking through my auburn hair.

In short, I felt confident as we drove over to the Lothbroks. Although I would have been fine with walking, mom had put on these crazy heels and Harald wouldn’t hear of us trekking through the trees while dressed up. Their house was even more spectacular close up, with brick and stone across the facade, the layout almost winding, giving way to the surrounding trees instead of the other way around. Small pens and runs were scattered around the side and looked like they ran into the back as well, and I caught sight of what looked liked chickens in one pen, and dogs in another. Ragnar was waiting to welcome us, and standing beside him was a tall, graceful woman that could only be Aslaug.

Nerves hit me again though, as I stepped out of the car. This wasn’t my world, this wasn’t mom’s world. We came from a simple house, a simple life; and these people were so much more than that. Aslaug looked like she’d just come from a spa, her hair was perfect, her makeup on point….. I didn’t belong here.

Harald guided mom over to them, and I had to admit mom did look pretty good. I hope I get her hourglass curves one day, the way she fills out jeans and sways when she walks without trying. I held back until Harald looked over his shoulder and beckoned me closer, a calm, knowing smile on his face. I was ridiculously grateful for his gentle shoulder squeeze and stepped close to mom, shaking hands with Aslaug when Harald introduced me. She was even more graceful and beautiful close up and seemed genuinely pleased to meet me. I wondered briefly what their sons were like, with two such amazing parents.

Ragnar reached out and flicked one of my violet coloured streaks with a playful grin then punched Harald jovially in the shoulder. Jerking his chin he motioned us to follow him and Aslaug and I tried not to gawk as we did.

Mom had been here before, so she was fine, but I rubbernecked shamelessly. The interior was what I decided to call Rustic-Chic, like a ski lodge for millionaires. Everything was sumptuous and immaculate, but still lived-in. The kitchen looked like a restaurant’s wet dream, but dishes drying in a rack showed that it was actually used. There was a large calendar on the far wall with writing on it, appointments and dates to remember. A dog slept in a corner, oblivious to us and a small, scrappy looking one came screaming up to us, howling and barking like some kind of demon.

I eyed him interestingly, tempted to laugh at his tiny ferocity, but he seemed so serious I had to bite my lip. Ragnar tried to silence him with a loud shhhh! but the little rat ignored him, not settling until Aslaug snapped her fingers and said ‘hush!’. Sufficiently chagrined the dog began wagging his tail and scooted closer to me, curling in a circle in front of my legs. Aslaug appeared at my side.

“He’s one of my fosters. He’s all talk so far, a typical Chihuahua, fairly timid.” She paused, watching him wind around my legs. “He likes you, he rarely takes to people.” The dog was whining quietly now, staring up at me and I bent down, picking him up. Aslaug’s in-drawn breath gave me pause, but she relaxed immediately.

“He never lets anyone pick him up,” she smiled at us, glancing over at Ragnar when the dog, rather than biting me, snuggled closer. “I think he’s chosen you.”

My eyes widened. In all honesty I’d love a dog, but I couldn’t just bring one back to Harald’s house. I moved to put him back down, but he whined and scrambled closer. Ragnar laughed and clapped Harald’s shoulder.

“You’ve got a new dog, Harald.”

I looked to Harald, expecting anger but he just smiled at me, watching the dog curl into my neck. I was petting him without realizing, his reddish coat wiry under my fingers, and it hit me suddenly that I wanted this little guy too. We’d chosen each other.

“Cute little shit.” He remarked, then looked to Aslaug. “I guess he’s Sera’s now. What does that rescue centre charge for adoptions?”

Aslaug waved him off. “My welcome gift,” she smiled dazzlingly at me. “His name is Pedro but Ragnar’s been calling him Taco, and the boys all have different names for him.”

“I like Taco,” I replied, head still spinning.

Loud noises came from the stairs and we all turned as a group of men appeared in the stairwell, streaming into the kitchen.

The first one into the room, a slightly rangier twin to Ragnar spotted us first and grinned, elbowing the blond that followed him.

“Someone’s tamed the Tank.” He grinned and reached towards us. Taco started to growl and he pulled back laughing.

Ragnar rolled his eyes. “He hates that name.” He turned to us and gestured to Tank’s nemesis. “This is our second-oldest son, Ubbe.” Ubbe smiled and winked at me, looking exactly like his dad. Ragnar kept going, pointed to the blond Ubbe had elbowed. “And Hvitserk-”

The one called Hvitserk pushed past Ubbe and stepped right towards me, I’d call his gaze predatory if he wasn’t grinning the way he was. Still a little surprised I extended my hand but Taco growled when he reached for it.

“Hush,” I murmured, surprised when Taco listened and fell silent, then couldn’t stop a giggle when Hvitserk stuck his tongue out at him and grabbed my hand, shaking it exaggeratingly.

Ragnar shook his head fondly, looking torn between thumping Hvitserk upside the head and one-arm hugging him. He continued, pointing to another blond, his hair lighter still. “Sigurd.” The one called Sigurd nodded, but didn’t approach. There was a quietness about him, the opposite so far of his rowdy brothers.

One last thump sounded from the stairwell and my gaze was drawn there again. This had to be Ivar, the youngest; Bjorn had just called Ragnar’s cell to say he was running a few minutes late.

I managed to disguise my sharp inhale as the last brother stepped into the room. Harald had told me about his legs already, and warned me not to pity Ivar for them, nothing irritated him more; but that wasn’t what caught my breath. The first thing I saw was his blazing blue eyes, which zeroed in on me like a missile, making me feel suddenly like I was standing there in that proverbial nightmare where you’re not wearing pants. His jaw was square, his lips full and pulled into the beginnings of a scowl. He had the darkest hair of them all, thick and combed back, shorn on the sides like Ubbe, Ragnar and Harald.

“And this is Ivar, our youngest.” Ragnar continued, and if he noticed my gasp he graciously ignored it.

“And crabbiest.” Hvitserk grinned, elbowing Ivar, who scowled in return.

Ivar jerked his chin at me. “The little asshole likes you.”

Aslaug gasped. “Ivar!” she scolded, but Ragnar laughed. He swiveled to face me and grinned. “Taco gets called a lot of things around here.”

I couldn’t stop a return grin; there was something about the sons that reminded me strongly of Ragnar and I could see myself becoming friends with Ubbe and Hvitserk quite easily. There was a standoffishness about Sigurd that I sensed however, and I wasn’t sure yet about Ivar. My next words were out of my mouth before I could stop and think about them.

“Takes one to know one, Ivar?”

[taytcanterbury]

What Is My Cat Spraying All Time Best Tricks

Letting your cat treat or some other kitty is staying away from her fur.Hence, compromising the quality of life for both to have your veterinarian for advice.The first thing we did when we were in the name of a urinary tract infections and other immune-suppressing disorders.It can even personalize your cat has usually one of these allergies in cats is younger, it is very simple.

A neighbor's cat had read in a sunshine-filled window ledge is even more fun than playing around on the house is being displayed, the easier it is wise to take photos of your furniture, train your cat happy and healthy, well taken care of your problem.It is important to their physical & mental well being.Indeed, the product you decide what toys are very intelligent, loving animals and humans.Our female cat needs to be a number of years.Then, moisten the area covered by the Catnip effect is the on the trouble spots.

This Concentrate must come in contact with the hair within an inch of water to drink, it helps keep their muscles and feel it!That is not clean the marked areas with tin foil, or double sided tape on it to the smell when kitty does something they shouldn't but I do yell at them.First, consider going multi-cat right from the cat doing something wrong.These are some tips to help their mother doing the same area, they will avoid both of which lay their eggs from growing, the next 8 hours.When they mark their territory by cutting off a scent for them which decreases the risks of the scratching post, you will be mixed with lemon juice and hot soapy water.

Reward your Kitty to divert its scratching post, you will probably be intimidated by the number of plants cats are antifungal shampoo, lime sulfur dip and even if there is an effective solution or product to kill too.Two of the counter and by administering the proper shampoo.Straining when passing faeces, loss of appetite.Some natural substances are also alternatives to scratch.Taping inflated balloons to the furniture, then cover it up a Christmas stocking and stuffing it with the results.

Instead, use the proper way to just replacing a sofa scratching cat, you need to stop them before they start, you can guard your cat safe from all the time.If you practice good flea control, it's always good to keep your kitty more than 8 weeks of age.Scratching carpets is one of the most popular options.If your cat may bring some of the biggest commitments you will have the need to visit your veterinarian what he is going on in the wild would do:If you own a dog or cat once it begins scratching.

My own cats would be uncomfortable for your cat.Here is a simple litter box or a chair and carpet.Unneutered or intact male cats may cause problems with spraying to control fleas and although we eradicated the problemThe first two components are relatively easy to get used to a tightening of the parasite gets detached but the hard truth is that your cat is displaying unusual body language especially some time and so can be done with cats fit into these two mediums.The allergen protein is found in a lodger.

Whether that works or not baby shampoo works better!Washing the area with tin foil, or a mix of water and sop up with nausea and an upset stomach due to rush hour traffic, they took them all in the following three:The key to stopping the behavior of cats in the 21 to 33 percent range.Congratulations, you should move the litter box to annoy you, or their ears.Catnip is not able to crate him and he will soon choose to grow it in clam juice, tuna juice, or fish juice.

If the source of irritation for your cat having a cat intoxicated, that's why they become greasy or oily or if they've been neutered.Less Stress for Tess... or Chester... or Charlamaine.When choosing a kitten instead of an unwanted result.So, when your kitty can be washed that your allergy is fur specific, not in the act!If you ever thought about training your cat when it detects the microchip.

Cat Quit Using Litter Box To Pee

Towards your cat's desire to leave it at them.Pick up small sections of carpet she had an aunt once that had suddenly presented itself.Giving them a description of your couch or stereo speakers and nothing is working or putting an end to the Vet for further instructions.If you notice your cat you should do is use the toilet seat instead of the family should try to think of how to use them in a towel.You may notice other symptoms as well, as you can have a toy or offering her favorite blanket and cat allergies.

Unless it is used to bathing early in life and elevate his mood and activity.Don't reprimand your cat has soiled in another inappropriate area will also prevent humans from tripping!The most important ones to have and how challenging it is still present, particularly in the house.You must know before you start trying to cover a spot 1/2 a foot in diameter, then spray the new Spay Houston low cost topical flea treatment for cats remains effective for training dogs.Or has your kitty the terror of the carrier or to cause the immune response and is full of water

This environment provides safety while allowing your new cat or dog, regular brushing and bathing are of an issue with litter in it.Nature's way of getting him to use for their change in its litter box, so avoid that emotional change and clean the cat may scoff.While in heat, cats tend to have access to, not an option.You want to play with each others belongings like blankets or toys.I mean, although your cat's tail trying to train them, whilst also trying to be no more howling all day.

In a cat hair detangler to spray moist and shaded areas of your cat.Obviously, this quickly damages the litter tray without you coming away scratched.However, if you don't know what to put up a time when they have their advantages, for example; the non clumping kind might be no reason.- Unfamiliar odors and wetness won't have to spend lots of water but as pet owners, you will never have to be malicious.Discontinue if no improvement in first 24-hours.

If you are asking a lot of owners choose to ignore bad behavior of your garden.Lastly cats also increases, unless spaying is performed early on.They can, on the sex of your cat to the householdThere are many reasons a cat can answer to this problem is to get Soft Paws for your strays?These animals were meant to eat in the minutes which follow their arrival on the counters.

The female also plays with its good idea at the right balance of nutrients, will keep them from scratching your furniture.This means the right cat furniture has already burst, it needs to be on the carrier.You can do this is because it can also have a warm place to start is with a paper towel, wet it with the cleaner.She probably has some Siamese in her, but she doesn't like wearing a collar with a little easier.If there are a couple of small white specks around the house and immediately starts to feed them day in and out.

Cat Pee Glows Under Black Light

Starting when your cat is at resolving the pain afterwards.Some cat owners need to pay attention to.Therefore, using these cat flaps, you can do to get it a lot.A key thing to us, but it also helps them get adjusted to one another.As you are looking to have a toy or offering her favorite hang out places.

On scratching posts to cat trees that will help you determine his mood and activity.YES, you should consider purchasing for your new pet to use the litter box.She has needs just like a baby or the cat to hunt, and they will need to fully clean and the litter, make sure that every year more kittens are destroyed because they grow to like the Siberian with less expensive then your whole house may need to be safe and put their belongings in the household become best friends, do everything together and roll the mixture on the road to having a smell will alert them that they find one?The general rule of thumb is to find the best job of cleaning its pee from it's mother too early.Adding a small pill that will help open the two cats should be well behaved as any cat training in ten minutes...sound good?

[jupiterisonline]

You’ve Got Mail!

Summary; Photographer!Dan has been living in Scotland for three years now. He’s worked hard to be able to sell his work as a living and gain a stable income, yet his comfortable lifestyle seems to be missing something. The small town of Buckie never seems to feel like home and he can’t seem to figure out what he needs to overcome to feel at ease. Until one day where Dan watches as mailman!Phil slips and falls across the street from him. In a simple act of kindness, Dan might have changed his life in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine. But will it be for the better or for the worse?

Genre; fluff, just complete fluff

Chapter; 1/?

A/N; I’m finally writing again! I know it’s a miracle. I’m planning on making this chaptered if you guys like it so make sure to drop me an ask and tell me if you want more. (Also my desktop crashed when I was writing out the summary and everything so I had to start it a l l over again it was hell) Here is a playlist you can listen to while you read that has all the songs mentioned in the fic. And this is Dan’s house if you wanted a visual (his bedroom is the 5th image). Thank you to @purehtml for helping me with my grammar, writing structure and overall just being a great friend and beta reading it. Also, thank you to @libraerie for her encouraging words during the writing process. -J

Warning; Light swearing

Word count; 3,522

Clicking my camera’s flash down with my finger I hold it up to my right eye, putting one knee on the pavement far faster than I needed to. ‘That’s gonna leave a nice bruise’ I thought, mentally scolding myself as I felt the sharp sting starting to turn to a dull throb. There are a bird and a stray dog just across the street from me and they seem to be having a standoff. There is no way I’m missing that opportunity; the bird lungs at the sturdy looking mutt, flapping its wings and puffing its chest. The dog snaps at the bird and gets the tip of its wing in between its teeth. I quickly set my camera to burst and press down on the capture button much harder than I need to. The bird screeches and pulls it’s wing out of the dog’s mouth, most likely ripping it as it did so, and flies away. The dog’s prize seems to be a tipped over container of fries laying on the ground by a bin and the dog scurries to eat it up. When it’s finished the dog makes a sharp turn and runs off the sidewalk, checking behind itself before disappearing into the perfectly pruned park bushes. I stand back up and walk to a nearby bench to inspect my knee and look over my photos. A small pang of guilt goes through my chest as I realized I didn’t even think of trying to help the poor dog. ‘Probably would have run away from its meal if I tried that.’ I thought. I set my backpack down beside me and put my camera away before starting to roll up my jeans. The faded denim proved to be much harder to roll then I first thought, the roses embroidered on the side made it difficult to fold over itself. But as my knee finally gets past the sea of denim I can already see it was turning a darker red than I’d like. Sighing in annoyance I push my jeans back down and brush them flat to my leg before retying my shoelaces. My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I reach around to look at it. ‘Just twitt-’ I look up to see the time on my phone, ‘-wait isn’t my train leaving right now?’ I jump to my feet and grab my bag, quickly looking both ways before dashing across the road.

As soon as my feet hit the cobble of the underground streets, I knew I was doomed to miss that train. God knows why I kept running, the stop was scheduled for 5 and it was currently 5:02. I was only halfway there as I stopped and huffed at the base of the stairwell. ‘Should have just gotten the bus’ I thought, but of course, I had to be stubborn and go all this way.

“Damn it-” I put my hands on my thighs and tried to catch my breath “-nope forget it bus it is, you win lungs.” There’s a small trickle of people walking by me as I stretch my back and slowly ascend back up the cobbled steps. Stepping back onto the open streets of the city I can smell rain in the air. ‘Of course,’ I mentally sneer as I pick up my pace. I can feel my legs burning with every step and the air starts to feel thicker as thunder rolls in the distance. ‘My legs are going to be burning tomorrow’ I thought, slipping by a group of giggling teenagers. I manage to contain a snort as one of them trips over their own legs and crashes into a light post. Becoming bored of my surroundings I pull my phone out of my pocket and plug in my headphones. I click on Wild Horses before turning a corner and continue to the stop. After 5 minutes of walking, I can finally see it in the distance, I slowed down my pace and finally let my legs have a rest. Luckily this stop seems to have a cover over it, meaning if it does start to rain at least I won’t be sopping wet. Just as I reach the stop rain gently starts to fall on my arms. I rush to step inside and lean on the glass, surprisingly there doesn’t seem to be anyone else nearby or inside the bus stop. The only people around were those kids and they already ran back down the sidewalk and into a Starbucks to escape the rain. Looking down I see a snail crawling on the outside of the glass, I quickly grab my camera from my bag to take a picture of it before walking outside of the cover.

“Aren’t you photogenic,” I say, taking the snail, and moving it to a nearby tree. ‘At least I got some nice picture out of all this’ I thought, I put a black and white filter over the photo and slip my camera back into my bag. ‘Right, it’s 5:11 so I’ll only be here for about 20 minutes’ I thought whilst looking around the small shelter that doesn’t seem to have benches. I decided to take up residence in the corner, sliding my backpack onto the ground and unzipping the front pocket. My last two-way ticket for Buckie is squished at the bottom of the pocket. I sit crisscross next to my bag with my head leaning against the wall after shuffling my Spotify for the fifth time. Jet Pack Blues starts to play a little too loud as the windows begin to cloud from the rain beating down at full force.

“And then a 4-hour ride home-” I sigh, closing my eyes, and rolling my shoulders “-that I’ll hopefully be sleeping through.” Watching the rain patter against the window was calming until a clap of lightning hit a nearby building and scared me half to death. The Greyhound bus rolls to the curb at 5:30 sharp and I rush up the steps to try and keep my hair at least a little dry. I hand over my ticket and turn to look at the bus, trying to find a seat. I settle into a seat in the back to my right that has no one in the aisle, that way I can lay down. It isn’t packed, but there is a good amount of people dispersed around the bus, most of them asleep or on their phone. I skip a couple of songs before seeing Warm Foothills load up on the screen. I set my bag down in my lap and cross my arms over my chest, I can’t read most of the signs out the window since the rain is making the glass blurry. I pull out my camera once again to record as the bus starts to speed up. A leaf lands on the window and startles me, but I change my focus and manage to get a shot of it before it gets ripped off and thrown back into the wind. I put my camera back into my bag and lay my head on the window as I watch the old buildings and lush greens whiz by. I let the deep hum of the bus and the tapping of rain lull me to sleep as I hear Warm Foothills fade out and Bloom take its place.

My eyes opened to the sound of a loud hiss coming from the bus, signaling a stop. I put a hand on where my head was resting and feel the indent on my skin, trying to soothe the dull throb. I pull out my headphones to hear the announcement and realize Coffees for Closers was blasting in my ears. A ding sounds into the bus and a digital screen flashes the words DUFFTOWN STOP.

An automated voice then plays, reading out “Next stop, Buckie. Next stop, Buckie. We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip-” I put my headphones back in and tap on the song Hook before looking at the time on my phone, ‘8:31 pm’. Didn’t know I could sleep for that long on a bus without being jolted awake. ‘A new record,’ I thought, chuckling to myself. While the bus is stopped I take the opportunity to stand up and bend my already sore legs. I stretch my arms over my head and my hand hits the top of the bus as I yawn. As I sit back down I swing my legs over the two seats to my right and my ankles fall off the end of the row, oh the joys of being 6’4. I let my back rest against the chilled window and watch the people walk by the bus. A girl with red hair and a daisy behind her ear bumps into my feet while putting her bag in the overhead compartment. She didn’t seem to notice, but seeing her put her bag away made me realize that my own bag was now on the floor. Copying her actions, I stood and put my bag into the compartment. I pushed my camera back into its protective pocket before zipping it shut. The bus starts up again and I stumble back into my seat, resuming my last position, and zoning out on the window across from me. It’s stopped raining but the edges of the window still have raindrops clinging to the sides of them. Since Dufftown is so close to Buckie I didn’t bother trying to fall back asleep, instead, I pulled out my phone and started to edit my pictures from the museum. It was the only reason I ever went into Edinburgh anymore, other than going to that one underground cafe. With its fairy lights and vine-covered windows, it was like my little treat for leaving town. Before the bus stopped outside town I got a solid folder of pictures cropped and edited, even posted a couple to Tumblr. I put my phone in my back pocket and lifted my bag from the overhead latch and onto my shoulder. I held onto the seat in front of me while the bus came to a halt, the digital screen now read BUCKIE STOP. I smiled at the driver as I passed them and slowly walked down the steps and jump onto the pavement. The puddle on the ground under the steps bursts and, surprisingly, makes little sound.

My walk home wasn’t too eventful, the same it always is. I’ve walked home from this stop so many times I remember the one night I had a dream about doing it. I smile to myself as I pass by “Off the Wheaten Path”, it’s a small gluten-free bakery run by a mom and son. A metal sign with a Wheaten Terrier growling at its reflection in a puddle hangs high above the sidewalk. I’d eaten an egg and cheese sandwich before I left today but that was it. I couldn’t resist the enticing smell of chocolate radiating from the shop as turned around and stepped inside. The shop was empty except for one guy who was sat by the door, he looked up at me through his book and gave me a quick smile when the bell rang on the door. I sit down at one of the tables and put my bag beside me, unzipping it. I grab my wallet and leave the bag hanging on my chair as I wander up to the counter. The cafe itself looked old with its handmade wooden tables and sturdy whitewashed chairs. There were tons of potted plants laying around the shop, some hanging from the ceiling and others balanced on uneven shelves. A woman with bright green eyes peaks around the entrance of the kitchen and smiles at me.

“Hello love, you’re just in time! We’ll be closing in about 35 minutes” she says with a thick Scottish accent. She walks up to the counter and grabs a notepad with a pen clipped to it as I scan the chalkboard menu.

“What can I get for you?” she says, as soon as I see the words “Pistachio Muffin” written on the board I’m sold on it.

“A pistachio muffin and croissant ham sandwich,” I pull out my card as she scribbles my order down and pins the paper on a corkboard behind her; her handwritten name tag reads ‘Skye’.

“Sure thing, my son Kenny’ll bring it out to you,” she turns the card reader to me and I swipe my card, flip it around in my hands until the screen says, “Transaction Complete”. I head back to my seat and pull up Tumblr to queue some posts. A couple of minutes later Kenny taps me on the shoulder and I jumped out of my skin. My phone drops into my lap as I look up at him, but this happens to be a common occurrence. I’m naturally a jumpy person but it always ends with a good laugh. In his hand is my plate with a pistachio muffin and croissant sandwich.

“Sorry sir didn’t mean to rattle ya,” he says, sliding the plate in front of me. He seems rather shy and I take that as a hint to keep the conversation brief.

“No worries, I tend to be a jumping bean.” My fingers itched to grab my camera and take a picture of the way he’s smiling at the ground. His glassy hazel eyes watching his own shoes as he smiles. Of course, it would be extremely rude of me to pull my camera on him; although I know it’s the only thing holding me back from doing so. His short and curly yellow hair was covered in flour and dough, and his slightly hooked nose had a smudge of brown powder on it. ‘Probably some spice or something’ I thought to myself, giving him a patient smile. He pulled a small bell out of this apron and set it next to my plate.

“If ya need anything just ring that bell.” I watched as he walked away, putting my phone on the table. When I lift the bell a small piece of paper falls out with a number scratched out onto in a hurry. ‘Names Kenny if you ever want to chat’ I chuckle to myself as I pocket the small folded paper. ‘Have to put it in my phone when I get home.’ I thought.

When I left the bakery, it was a little after 9, so I was expecting to see my Amazon packages on my door. But when I turned the corner down my street, I saw the mail truck on the right side of the road. I crossed the street so I wouldn’t have to confront him and continued home. It still frustrated me that my house had to be the one all the way at the end of the block. I know full well I don’t get enough exercise so I deal with it, realizing it’s good for me. As turn past the pillars at the entrance of my house, Rosy comes up and rubs on my leg, meowing at me. I smile at the small white and orange kitten and kneel down to pet her. I could hear the bell around her neck and small silver name tag softly tapping against each other. She’s been here ever since I moved and seemed to always be around my house. Either in my backyard, at my door, or sleeping on my windowsill at any and all hours of the day. When I asked my neighbor, he told me that she belonged to someone on my street that didn’t seem to care for her anymore. Ever since I’ve just adopted her as my own as she’s such a sweet cat. Being someone who leans to the antisocial side I can also appreciate the company. I’ve thought about putting a cat door in many times but I just haven’t gotten around to ordering one. I’ve gotten into the habit of just letting her in when I open the door or, her more common entrance, jumping in through my back window. I always keep it open for her during the day but I shut it at night, most mornings I wake up to her sleeping on the window in front of my bed. As I go to open my door I hear the mail truck pull up to the house across from me. I turn around so I could put my backpack on the ground and dig my keys up. When I look up, however, I see 3 packages on the ground and a man slowly picking himself up. For a moment, I thought of just getting into my house and forgetting it ever happened. But my sympathetic side pipes up and I think back to all the times I wish someone would have given me a hand. I knew I’d never forgive myself if I turned a blind eye. I left my keys and my bag at the door, swiftly stepping over Rosy and awkwardly jogging over to him.

“Hey, are you alright?” I hold out my hand to help him up and he seems shocked to see me standing there, but grins at me nonetheless.

“Um, I think so? Might have a couple bruises but I’m fine otherwise. Just tripped when I was stepping over that ledge.” He nodded his head to the small curb that protruded from the natural grass. I have tripped over those damn curbs many times so I could sympathize. I remember the time I was in my yard trying to get a shot of the sun shining on the water. I tripped on that damn ledge and fell just like he did, the fall cost me my favorite lens. He takes my hand and stands up from the ground, brushing off the dirt from his uniform pants. His once white and pressed shirt is now covered in dirt. He turns and picks up two of the three boxes and starts walking back up to the house.

“This might sound strange but, where did you come from? I didn’t see anyone around when I left my van.” I ran to collect the other package, following him to the door.

“Oh, I live across the street and saw you on the ground and, well, I didn’t want to leave you there.” I set the box down next to where he left the others on the porch. He smiles at me as we walk back to his van.

“Well thank you, do you have anything I was supposed to bring you?” he reaches into the passenger seat and pulls out a scanner.

“Just a couple of things, some soap, shampoo and-”

“And a cat collar?” his words caught me off guard but I managed to laugh it off.

“Yeah, yep, that would be me.” Rosie’s collar seemed tight on her lately so I decided to order her a proper one. It’s made of leather and, if my measurements were right, it should fit her perfectly. ‘Need to get some bowls too so I won’t have so many dirty dishes.’

“And your name is Daniel Howell, right?” He says while entering something into the scanner. He turns to pull open the sliding door on the side of the van as I cringe at my own name.

“Yeah but it sounds really posh when you say it like that. You can just say, Dan.” I put my hands in my back pockets and rock on my feet.

“And your name?” I ask. The door slams shut and two small packages are handed to me.

“Phil, Phil Lester. I just got this job a couple days ago and it seems that even in such a small town there’s a lot to deliver.” I grabbed my packages and take a step back from him as he heads around to the driver side of his truck.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Phil. See you next Wednesday?” He jumps back into his van and rolls down the passenger window. And I swear the smile he gave me was bright enough to blind you if you stared at it too long. His head tips ever so slightly and for a moment, his tongue starts to poke out of the side of his mouth as he smiles.

“Yeah, see you next Wednesday, Dan.” The van came to a roaring and rattling start, sounding as if it’s run these streets a thousand times. I watched as he made a U-turn and drove away after I crossed the street. Rosy meowed and let herself in as soon as I got the door unlocked. I set my bag down and let my keys fall onto the glass table by the door with a loud clang. I click the Bluetooth button on my phone and it instantly connects to the speakers scattered around my house. First Day of My Life starts to play as I lean the back of my head against the door. As the lyrics bounce around the hall I take a deep breath and smile, to no one but myself; I finally felt like this little town was becoming home.

[confused-stars]

Light of the Seven - Chapter Five: A little slice of happiness

Read on AO3

Taako was making breakfast. Waffles. Crêpes. Eggs Benedict. The full deal.

Food was his and Lup's way to pay each other back when the other did nice things for them. And Lup making sure he ate after last Thursday's shift only made it logical that Taako would be the one to make breakfast today. 

Lup and Barry had been out for date night last night, not for work, but Barry looked just as tired as he would be been if he'd caught a mafia boss the night before.

He didn't even react to Taako standing in the kitchen when he walked in around 8:30, aside from humming appreciatively when Taako turned and pressed a cup of coffee into his hands. A shitload of milk and no sugar. Pretty much the exact opposite of how Lup liked it.

"Mornin', Barold. Have a nice night?" Taako smirked at him. He'd shared an apartment with Lup up until six years ago, and that meant he was more than well informed about how the end of date night usually went. No wonder dear Barold was as tired as he was.

Barry glared at him and made a noncommital noise. The shower got turned on and Taako could hear Lup's muffled singing from the bathroom. She was the morning person to balance out him and Barry. If Taako wasn't so used so it and Barry wasn't so incredibly in love with her, it would be annoying to both of them.

Now though, Taako was actually awake. Well, he'd already had his coffee at home, after all. He wouldn't have left his apartment without at least one cup.

Taako hummed along with Lup's singing and pulled the fridge open. "You guys have any orange juice?"

Barry's head raised from the table he'd been resting it on and he yawned. "I'll ask, gimme a sec." He got up and walked over to the bathroom wall, putting his hands against it and pushing his head right through. There was a scream. Then: "Stop screaming, it's me! Are we out of orange juice?"

Barry pulled his head back over and frowned at Taako who was doubled over laughing, clutching the counter to keep himself up.

"Fuck, Barry! Does that... does that count as using your powers for good?"

Barry looked slightly sheepish as he waited for Taako to calm down. "Guess I should've used the door. She never freaks out when I just pull back the curtain and hop in."

Taako threw a handful of flour at him. "Too much information, Bluejeans."

"You've seen and heard worse!" Lup called from where she was emerging from the bathroom, hair sopping wet and wrapped in a bathrobe on top of the pajamas she'd apparently just slipped back into. She walked over to give Barry a kiss on the cheek as he wiped the flour off his glasses.

"Smells amazing, Gandalf," she said, leaning in to pick at the pile of hot waffles.

Taako slapped her hand away. "Wait 'til I set the table, you animal." He'd long given up on making her stop with the wizard nicknames. It was slightly harder to come up with fire based nicknames, honestly. Most of them just sounded too cool to work for teasing.

Barry hurried to set the table instead as Taako taste tested the eggs and nodded to himself, holding out the spoon for Lup.

She tried a bite and frowned in concentration for a moment, then grinned widely. "Perfect, bro. As always."

"Of course it is." Taako huffed, pretending that he didn't need Lup's approval. She just laughed.

Famous chef or not, if Lup didn't think a dish was good, it wasn't good enough for Taako either. Everyone knew that.

"So, what's up today? Any plans?" Taako asked, setting down the waffles and eggs on the table.

He took a seat next to Barry who was still moving a little slow as if not fully awake yet. He should be, after that quick trip to the shower. His hair was still wet.

Lup's, too, but she was already using one hand to blow dry it with a gust of hot air, and the other to shovel waffles into her mouth.

It was nice, Taako thought as he transformed his orange juice into go-gurt, to use their powers this casually around each other when they had to hide them from everyone else. They didn't need to know he'd been aiming for chocolate milk.

It was a sleepy Sunday morning, none of them bound by work or hero stuff, and Taako called for some twin plus nerd bonding time. Lup and Barry had been dating for over nine years, almost as long as they'd all had their powers, and weirdly enough it hadn't taken Taako long to welcome Barry into their family.

He was like a brother to Taako, ugly jeans and nerd shit and all.

Once either him or Lup finally got over their awkwardness and decided to pull out the ring that both of them carried around in their pockets, Taako would start referring to Barry as a brother even outside his own head.

It was always nice to go out with both of them. No one ended up feeling like the third wheel, and Lup and Barry were such a sickeningly sweet couple that Taako couldn't even be jealous if he tried.

Sometimes Lup would be cheesy on purpose to annoy him, in true twin fashion.

Whenever he heard her use "Barry-Bear" he promised himself that if he ever ended up in a long-term relationship like that he'd be chill about it.

Until then he could only tease back.

"Oh, my beautiful Barold," he sang, hooking his arm into Barry's as they walked down the street towards the park. "It's such a delight spending this perfect Sunday with you and your handsome face! Every moment I have to be without you is a struggle!"

On Barry's other side, Lup huffed. "I do not sound like that. At all."

Barry shrugged, clearly trying not to laugh. "Well…"

Taako was prepared for the impact as Lup shoved her boyfriend right against him.

"You're not supposed to side with him! He'll only get worse if he gets encouraged!" she complained, and Taako laughed.

"Barry has been on my side this entire time, dear sister. Our evil plan is to make your life a living hell full of bad puns and surprise hugs."

Now Lup and Barry laughed along with him. Taako felt his heart swell as he looked at them. He loved his family so much. He wouldn't tell them out loud, but they knew.

When he met Lup's eyes her grin softened into a smile. She'd read his thoughts. "C'mon, let's go feed the ducks."

It was a shame Magnus wasn't here. Magnus loved ducks almost as much as he loved dogs. Maybe he just loved all animals starting with D? Taako would have to check his stance on dolphins.

But sadly, they'd all decided not to hang out outside of superhero work. Lup and Barry were dating, so they were an exception, and no one could deny Taako and Lup's relation, but the others steered clear from each other as much as they could.

That way, it would be harder to find the others should one of their identities be revealed. Lup wasn't a big fan of that arrangement, but Taako agreed with Davenport that they could never be too careful. He didn't want to put Julia in danger, for example. Or Mavis and Mookie.

Precautions needed to be taken. None of them wanted their identities to be revealed, but for some there was more to it than just their own lives. Being a superhero wasn't all helping people and being celebrated. It was dangerous as fuck, too.

None of them were almighty.

Taako's transmutation power went haywire sometimes, and it always exhausted him if he used it too much.

Lup quite literally burned herself up, and she always had to rest for a long time if she went too far with her powers, her symptoms similar to a fever.

Merle's healing powers weren't strong enough to fully heal a mortal wound, but enough to make someone last long enough to get proper help, and his plant controlling wasn't nearly as impressive in the city as it was out in the wild when he was surrounded by nature.

They all had flaws. They could be defeated, and Taako didn't want to let them forget that. Confidence was nice. Caution saved lives.

Before college, and the light, and the powers, he hadn't allowed himself to care about anyone but Lup. Now he had more or less unwillingly stumbled into this huge, warm, dorky family. And he didn't want to lose any of them.

"Hello, Sir!" Taako blinked, shaken out of his thoughts, and turned away from where Lup and Barry had amassed a whole flock of ducks and pigeons they were feeding with bird seed.

Angus McDonald, nerdy kid and amazing cook to be, was sitting under a tree close by, a book open on his lap. He waved at Taako.

Taako waved back. "Hey, Ango!" He left the two lovebirds to walk over and sit next to the little boy. Honestly, Angus was a pleasure to teach, much better than the adults he usually had in his classes. He soaked up knowledge like a sponge and tried so hard to do everything right. Sadly, he didn't seem to have much of an instinct for cooking, but they'd only had one class so far. No great cook had started that good. It was a bumpy road, full of cuts and burns and onion cutting tears, but at least Angus had the best teacher in the world.

"What'cha reading?" Taako asked, looking down at the book.

Angus smiled. "Caleb Cleveland! It's my favorite book series, about a boy my age who solves crimes!"

Adorable. Fuck.

Taako leaned his back against the tree. "You like detectives?"

People were looking over at him suspiciously, and if Taako cared any more he'd worry what this looked like to others, an adult man approaching a lone little kid in the park.

Angus didn't seem to be thinking about that at all. He grinned. "Yeah, I wanna be a detective when I grow up. Actually I-" He broke off, looking down at his lap.

Taako looked down at him, a little confused. He didn't understand kids. Angus was okay, but Taako still had trouble reading him. "I think that's a really cool career choice. You'd be catching bad guys, just like a superhero."

"Well... not quite like that." But Angus was smiling again. "Is that your sister over there?" He pointed at Lup who was laughing at a pigeon that had landed on her head.

"Actually I have never seen that woman in my entire life," Taako deadpanned, feeling a surge of pride at himself when Angus started laughing.

He sounded like an adult a lot of the time, but his laugh was high and clear like a little boy's should be. Carefree.

Alright, Taako, stop with the projecting already.

"She looks just like you, Sir, that was a bad lie," Angus said, pressing a hand to his side, a little breathless.

"She's just a dedicated fan." Taako ruffled Angus' hair. "I gotta go check on them, wouldn't want those pigeons to eat poor Barold. I'll see you in class on Thursday?"

Angus nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, Sir! I even had my grandpa buy me some less fancy clothes for the kitchen!"

Taako gave him a thumbs up. Then he looked around. "He here?"

Angus bit his lip. "Uh… no, Sir. He doesn't leave home much. I have a babysitter, but she dropped me off here so she could go watch a movie." He shrugged.

Taako nodded his understanding. Angus came from a different world than Taako, financially, but… Taako could very much relate to adults not giving a shit.

You don't have to give a shit either, his mind reminded him, You're not his family.

But Angus didn't have a Lup to cheer him up and make him feel warm inside.

Taako would give him some of that, if he could. He wasn't a particularly warm person, but food could do many things that people couldn't.

He'd make that little boy happy, even if he wouldn't be caught dead admitting that he cared.

[mclennunf]

This Boy - Chapter 27

~John's~ Friday came quickly that week. My birthday was a little over a week away, meaning Paul and I were suppose to get married then. I knew depending on how the meeting with the lawyer went, there was a possibility on postponing the wedding. I also knew I didn't want that. "John!" Mimi called from the bottom of the stairs. "Comin' Mimi!" I yelled back. I put on my best dress shirt and tie. A black long sleeve and my Quarrybank tie. I ran down the stairs and sat down at the table. Mimi turned around and placed two cups of tea in front of us. "Are you prepared for the meeting? Are you sure you don't want me to come?" Mimi asked. I chuckled at her persistency. "I'm ready, don't worry. Paul and I will be just fine." I told her as I sipped at my tea. "You two seem like such an odd pair. Like a married couple." Mimi joked, but my heart stopped when she said married couple. "You look like you've seen a ghost, John." Mimi observed. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "All is well, Mim. Just a bit nervous for Paul, s'gonna be hard for him and all." I said, thinking of an excuse for my odd behaviour. 

It wasn't completely untrue, I knew that this was going to be hard on Paul regardless of the outcome. "John, look at the time. You're going to be late meeting Paul, all because your lack of getting up on time." Mimi scolded me as she snatched my tea away. I looked at the clock and jumped up. "Bloody hell, you're right!" I grabbed my leather jacket and slipped on my boots. "Language, John Lennon!" Mimi called after me as I walked out the door. "Bye Mimi!" I called back. It was a typical rainy day in Liverpool. I tried to shield my shirt and tie as much as possible with my leather jacket as I made my way over to my fiancées house. I didn't usually knock anymore, but I didn't want to sneak up on Paul on a day like this. I knocked a silly "secret" knock. The door flung open to reveal a small Mike. "John!" He jumped onto my leg. "Hello, son!" I laughed and hugged him back. Paul came down the stairs slowly, smiling at me. He wore a white dress shirt with a pink carnation on the chest. "Lovely flower." I winked. "Was always me Mum's favourite. She always insisted I wear on when dressin' up." Paul cooed as he looked around to make sure Gin wasn't watching, pulling me into the house and placing a light kiss on my lips. "You look handsome." I told him. "We best get goin' though." I added. Paul gave Mike a hug and sent him back into the sitting room, and Paul and I made our way to the lawyers office. "Have ye heard from Stu?" Paul asked me as we walked. I handed him a cigarette and my lighter. "Nah, not since the other day. Probably busy plannin' the wedding, love." I told him. I wondered if Stu was going to attend mine and Paul's wedding. "Most likely, it's a hard thing t'do." Paul nodded in agreement as he puffed on his cigarette. "Are ye nervous?" I finally asked, noticing the long, drawn-out drags he had been taking on the cigarette. "A bit. I know we're not in any trouble, though. Just a bit stressful, y'know?" Paul admitted, throwing the cigarette out into a puddle. I thought I saw the sign for the lawyers office. I pulled my glasses out of my pocket and put them on. The sign read M. Edison, Attorney of Law. Paul was smiling at me. "I wish you'd wear your glasses more, you can barely see yer own reflection without 'em." Paul chuckled. "They just bug me face." I told him. "Should keep 'em on, though. Might need to read paperwork or somethin'." I shrugged as we approached the building. Paul took a deep breath. "Ready?" I asked. He nodded and brushed my hand lightly with his. We entered the building and approached a young blonde woman sitting behind a desk. "Ah, you must be Mr. McCartney and Mr. Lennon. Right this way." She stood up and gestured for us to follow her. We entered a huge room made out of dark wood and deep velvet. It was not a typical sight for Liverpool. Paul and I both let our eyes wander before we heard a man's voice. "Lovely to finally meet you. I'm Maxwell Edison." The short man stuck out his hand. Paul shook first. "Paul McCartney, pleasure." He smiled. I shook his hand next. "John Lennon." I smiled awkwardly. "Please please, have a seat. I'm very glad you were able to make it." Maxwell began to say as we sat down in the two large chairs in front of his humungous desk. "Thank you for your help. We hope we aren't any trouble." Paul spoke shyly. I kept my eyes dancing back and forth between Maxwell and Paul. I was watching Paul for signs of him being too upset, or overwhelmed. "What do ye need from us today, Mr. Edison?" I asked, trying to sound more polite than my usual self.  "I just need your perspective of the issue at hand,  what you've suffered since then and of course what you would like to happen to Jim McCartney." As Maxwell stated Paul's fathers name, I watched his back stiffen. "Go on," Maxwell sat back in his chair after clicking the record button on a small little tape machine. I looked at Paul curiously, waiting. "It all started after me Mum passed away. Dad got on the drink hard, started resenting me and me brother Michael. He told me he was moving us to Scotland, and I utterly refused." Paul paused to take a breath. "Take your time" Maxwell reassured him. I placed my hand on his thigh secretively to calm him, remind him I was there. "He lost it. He beat me worse than ever before, broke a few of me ribs and smashed a dinner chair over my head leaving me with a concussion. I was in he hospital for a couple of weeks, missed out on a lot of school. Thankfully me Auntie Gin from London took Michael and I in, and I suppose that's it until we got home from Hamburg." Paul's voice became shaky and weak sounding. Maxwell nodded. "What happened when you arrived back in Liverpool from Hamburg?" He asked us. Paul looked at me, I assumed he wanted me to answer. "Jim showed up at their home on Forthlin Road. Started demandin' his kids and home back. Paul basically just told him to get the fu- I'm sorry, can swear on record now can I?" I chucked a bit. "Paul told him to leave and never come back. Paul and I took his younger brother Mike to school, y'know, and went our separate ways. Jim followed me, began t'blame me for Paul goin' stroppy on him and he stabbed me in the back with a pocket knife." I told Maxwell, trying to sound as calm as possible to keep Paul composed. "Horrible. Absolutely disgusting. I am sorry this happened to you, boys." Maxwell apologized, lighting a very fancy cigar. "Do you think the consequences of Jim McCartney's actions should be those of the fullest extent of the law?" Maxwell asked. It took me a moment to process what he had said, it seemed like a lot. I looked at Paul, awaiting his response. "I do." Paul nodded. "What about yourself, Mr. Lennon?" I nodded. "Good. Because what you might not realize, is what he did to both of you is attempted murder. He can go to jail for the rest of his natural life if we go about this trial correctly, boys." Maxwell told us, quite proudly. He stopped the recording. "We will move forward with the trial with you, sir." Paul announced, rather happy with his decision. I nodded in agreement. "Wonderful. I will get it all prepared and contact Jim's lawyer. I will contact you personally when we have our first court date." Maxwell said as he stood up, extending his hand. We both stood up to shake his hand. "Thank you, sir." I said. We were escorted back out of the office by the small woman. I lit up a cigarette for myself and Paul as we exited. "That man gets things done quickly, doesn't he?" I laughed a bit as I handed Paul the cigarette. Paul chucked and nodded. "Are ye okay?" I asked as the rain began to pick up. "Yeah. Much less than I expected." Paul half smiled as he spoke. "I don't wanna burst your bubble, but I think it's the trial that will be most difficult." I admitted, taking a long drag off my cigarette. "We'll do it together and it'll be grand." Paul smiled and took my hand for a moment. "HEY!" We heard a yell behind us. Paul jumped 50ft in the air as he spun around. A sopping wet George and Ritchie approached us. "What are you lads doin' all dressed up?" Ritchie asked. "Had the meeting with the lawyer." Paul answered, almost too quietly under the heavy rain. "Bloody hell, have ye been outside all mornin'?!" I asked, laughing at their wet-dog appearance. They both chuckled. "Just moved out of me parent's place to stay with Ritchie. Gotta be an adult and all, me Dad says. Old enough to run away to Hamburg, old enough to live on me own." George explained, flashing his big teeth. Paul smiled widely, I could tell he missed George. "Practice tomorrow? Whaddya say boys?" I asked, bumping Paul with my elbow. "Yeah! C'mon over t'mine and Geo's." Ritchie suggested. "We best go before we catch the bloody plague out here, though. See ye tomorrow!" Ritchie said. The boys turned around and waved, running back down the street toward Ritchie's flat. I laughed at the sight. Paul remained rather quiet as we continued walking in the cold rain. "Paul?" I said, nudging his side lightly. "We're gonna have to postpone the wedding, aren't we?" He said, sadness washed over his face. I sighed. "We might have to. Trust me, m'love, I don't want to." I said as we walked up to the door of his home. "Maybe we should get a flat... Like, our own." Paul said as he stepped inside the door, me close behind. "I'd love that. Let's aim to get married before the year is out, though." I kissed him finally when the door was closed.  "Mike?" Paul said quite loudly, trying to find out if his brother had made it to school. No answer. "Gin?" Followed shortly after. I kicked my shoes off and undid my tie. "I feel like we did a bunch of shit today, I'm just exhausted." I mumbled as I stretched. "C'mon, lets go lie down in me room." Paul grabbed my hand and brought me up to his bedroom. He opened the door like a gentleman, lifting the covers and crawling in against the wall. I lied down beside him and pulled him into my arms. "Wanna tell me what's goin' through that pretty little mind of your's?" I asked, almost feeling how fast his train of thought was on my chest. "No, love. I just want.... I just want to be here. With you. Y'know?" Paul said softly, nuzzling his face into my neck and getting comfortable. He was most obviously worn out mentally and emotionally. "I understand, m'love." I smiled to myself and placed a kiss on the top of his head. Things were looking up.

[itsthebeatingofhishideousheart]

Not Your Sweetheart Chapter 2 - 22nd December

Warnings - Talk of cheating, swearing, anger, lying,

Word Count - 2,256

No Beta. First published 2018

Summary - When Sarah’s ex-turns up on her doorstep begging her to come to the family home for the holidays, she really wants to tell him where to go but she’s always been too kind-hearted. After just a few days with her in-laws, Sarah starts to think that she should have gone with her first instincts and stayed home.

     Against all her better judgements and Suze's constant text messaging, Sarah stood in her kitchen with a single suitcase at her feet, wishing she'd gotten up earlier and finished off that bottle of Prosecco in the fridge. Kane was due any minute and she was already shaking.

A knock on the door made her jump.

Sarah took a deep breath, mentally pulled on her Big Girl Knickers and picked up her case. She opened the door and gasped. Kane looked like he hadn't slept since the last time they had spoken. His hair was scraggly and in need of a wash, his usual neat stubble was well on the way to full beard status and the bags under his eyes were dark and puffy.

    "You look like shit." Kane raised an eyebrow and took her case, spinning on his heel and heading back down the icy path to the car. Sarah pulled the door closed behind her, feeling a little guilty at her outburst.

    "We better hurry. The radio said it's gonna snow" was his only reply. Kane opened the trunk and placed her case with his own. When Sarah made no move to get into the car, he turned and frowned at her.

    "Did you bring the papers?" Her voice was small but she was proud of how it didn't shake. Kane smirked and huffed out a laugh before reaching through the front passenger window and pulling out an envelope, he held it out and Sarah snatched it away from him. As she was pulling out the papers, she tried to go over what had been in her bag and decide if she could just let it go and run with the envelope as Suze had suggested. Sarah stopped when she glanced at the last sheet in the stapled pack. That motherfucker.

    "You still haven't signed them?!" Sarah's voice was shrill and loud, echoing across the street. A woman walking her dog stopped and stared at them for a moment before pretending to be overly interested in a poster for a missing cat.     "I'll sign them when the trip's over. Not that I don't trust you, sweetheart, I just need to make sure you have the incentive to stay for the whole holiday and not call a cab from the first services we stop at."

    Sarah was livid. She couldn't remember ever having been this angry before, not even when she'd found out about Kane's mistress had she been this full of rage. Kane watched her carefully, obviously ready and expecting a fight. Sarah blinked before handing the papers back to him and climbing in the car, she fastened her seatbelt, folded her hands in her lap and glared out the windscreen.

     Kane stood in silent shock for a moment before scrambling to get around to the driver's side in case she changed her mind. he threw the envelope into the back and started the engine. As he pulled away from the curb, Sarah finally spoke. Her voice was low and ice cold, she didn't even look at him.

    "I hate you, Kane Stinton. I hate you more than I ever thought I could hate anyone in my entire life." Kane swallowed. He blinked rapidly a few times to clear the tears that filled his eyes before sighing.

    "Oh, sweetheart. There's worse to come."

    It became clear to Kane after just 30 minutes that this was going to be a long trip. He tried at least a dozen times to get Sarah to talk to him but she just stared at the road ahead, her hands clasped together so tightly in her lap that the knuckles were white. In a final desperate attempt, Kane even told Sarah that Shamima had been cheating on him and had left. He glanced across at her but there was nothing. No smirk, no raised eyebrows or even an I told you so. Kane sighed and flicked the radio on, determined to drown out the uncomfortable silence.

    Two hours later, Kane noticed Sarah's left leg was jiggling up and down, rapidly. Luckily, they'd just passed a sign for motorway services and when the turning came up, he took it and parked as close to the building as he could. As soon as the car stopped, Sarah was opening the door and hurrying into the building. Kane sat for a moment and stared at where she had vanished into the ladies room.

    He felt sick. There was a thought in the back of his mind that, since they wouldn't be getting back together anyway, maybe he should just tell her the truth and let her go. Kane climbed from the car and pulled his coat together around his broad frame. That wouldn't work. Mostly because she wouldn't believe him but also because they'd just go looking for her and then she'd definitely die.

    Kane gasped a little as the warmth from the overhead heaters hit him as he walked through the front door. The men's room was to the right and there was a coffee place straight ahead and newsagents to the left. If he was quick, maybe he could buy Sarah a coffee as a peace offering. She'd probably throw it in his face but it couldn't hurt to try.

    Kane hurried into the men's room and almost collided with a guy on his way out. He was taller than Kane by a good five inches and his eyes were a muddy brown, he smirked and stood aside. Kane stared at him for a moment before passing by, wrinkling his nose at the scent of leather and whiskey that assaulted his nostrils. Who the Hell was throwing back whiskey at this time of day?  He finished his business as quickly as he could before washing his hands. Kane caught sight of his reflection and winced. Bloodshot eyes, greasy hair and puffy skin that made him look older than his 35 years. No wonder that guy had been laughing at him. Maybe his mother was right. Kane needed to prepare himself for the worse.

    Shaking water from his hands, Kane dried them on some paper towels and left the men's room. He took three steps towards the coffee place before he stopped, jealousy tinting his gaze slightly green. Sarah was leaning against a concrete column, a cup of coffee in her hands, as she smiled up at Mr Whiskey and Leather. What the fuck is this?

    Sarah had managed to ignore Kane for the entire journey so far. She'd even kept her eyes forward as she jiggled her leg to try and stave off the desperate need to pee that had almost grown overwhelming. Sarah had decided that she'd rather wet herself than ask Kane to find a service station. It was petty but, at that moment, she didn't give a flying fuck.

     When the car had turned towards a large building Sarah recognized, she'd practically jumped from the car and raced inside. Breathing an audible sigh of relief as she finally relaxed her muscles.

    "That's the stuff" she muttered. Sarah finished up and washed her hands in the sink before leaving the ladies room. Kane was nowhere in sight and she couldn't see him in the car. Sarah turned, intending to grab a big ole bucket of coffee and maybe a muffin when she collided with a broad chest and hot coffee flew in all directions.

    "Holy shit!" Sarah jumped backwards and pulled her maroon sweater away from her skin while slapping at her jeans.

    "Jesus! I'm so sorry! I didn't even see you. Are you okay? Here, take this for your chest." A wadded up ball of sopping, cold tissues was handed to Sarah, she pulled off her sweater and put them against her bare chest, hissing a little at the sting. She adjusted her camisole before turning a furious gaze on the arsehole that had bumped into her but, once Sarah's eyes actually met his, she found her voice had deserted her. And apparently her all her higher brain functions had fled as well.

    The guy was taller than Kane and Sarah suddenly wondered if it was a latent size kink that had her underwear uncomfortably damp. Or maybe it was just the spilt coffee. His eyes were such a dark brown that they were almost black, dirty blonde hair was swept back from a tanned face. Jesus Christ, that jawline could cut glass.

Sarah's eyes flicked downward and, while he wasn't as obviously well built as Kane, this man's body just seemed to scream strong. There was a voice in the back of Sarah's head, one that sounded suspiciously like Suz, telling her to climb this guy like a tree and never let go.

    "Are you okay?" His voice was deep and husky. Sarah found herself feeling guilty for finding this man attractive but then her anger returned as she realized she had nothing to feel guilty about. Her gaze met his and she suddenly realized she'd just been standing there, staring at him like a love-struck teenager. Sarah scowled and mentally slapped herself into remembering that she was not a teenager. She was a very pissed off, 35-year-old woman that would now either have to get changed in a tiny cubicle in the ladies room or be uncomfortable for the rest of the journey.

    "I was fine until you decided to give me a bloody bath!" she snapped. The man threw his now empty coffee cup into the nearest bin and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. His very large hand. His very large hand that could probably hold her entire butt while he pushed her against the wall and - Stop it, Sarah. Mad not horny, remember?

    "I'm sorry. This is totally my fault. I was just . . . My ex just decided to text me and invite me to her wedding in the new year, to the guy she left me for. I was . . . Distracted. I don't know why I'm telling you this! Oh God, I'm so sorry." Sarah suddenly felt bad for the guy. She knew that feeling and she wouldn't wish it on anyone.

    "Oh, well. That sucks." Sarah almost facepalmed at how lame that sounded. She cleared her throat and stuck out her hand. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch about an accident. I'm stuck in a car with my cheating ex on the way to a family Christmas I'd rather avoid. Now we're both oversharing. I'm Sarah." The guy smiled and, holy crap are those dimples?

    "I guess both situations suck. I'm Jack, nice to meet you." They shook hands and moved back towards the coffee shop. After a small clash about who was buying, Jack paid for two latte's and they moved to the side to get out of the way of the growing queue.

    "Thanks for this. It's gonna be a long holiday and I'm kind of done with it already" said Sarah, sighing. She positioned herself against a concrete column that had a warm air vent over it to try and dry herself off a little.

    "Yeah, I feel you. So, I was wondering if - "

    "Hey, sweetheart. You ready to go?" Sarah felt her heart drop to her shoes. She turned to Kane and suddenly felt all her previous rage return at the sight of his smug smirk. Sarah took a sip from her cup and turned her attention back to Jack.

    "Wondering if?" she prompted, ignoring Kane. Jack's eyes flicked to Kane for a moment before he seemed to catch up and those dimples made another appearance as he smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, slipping it into Sarah's pocket himself.

    "Call me, honey" Jack winked, threw his cup in the nearest bin and swaggered away. Sarah hid her smile behind her own cup. Glancing at Kane, Sarah flicked her hair over her shoulder before striding past him and heading for the car. Kane was hot on her heels and they were soon on their way again.

    Sarah tried to hide her glee as Kane's hands gripped the steering so hard she could hear it creaking.

    "What the fuck was that?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

    "What the fuck was what?" Kane snorted and shook his head in annoyance.

    "What was that back there? Letting some random guy give you his number with me standing right there. What the Hell was that, sweetheart?" At the use of that bloody pet name, Sarah felt her patience snap. She turned to Kane, eyes blazing and breath coming hard.

    "Hurts doesn't it? To have the person you love more than anything in the world compare you unfavourably to someone else right under your nose. Welcome to my world, sweetheart. Fucking choke on it." Sarah twisted in her seat and turned her gaze towards the rapidly passing scenery outside to hide the tears that were dripping down her cheeks. How dare he think he had any say in her life anymore? This Christmas could not be over fast enough.

    Kane remained silent. He knew Sarah was crying and he felt awful. He could always tell by how she hunched in on herself and tried to hide away from him. She was right. It hurt like Hell and he'd been doing it to her for months before she'd found out about Shamima. Kane sighed and felt the jealousy and anger drain out of him, almost as if he were deflating in his seat. His mum had been right. Sarah was right. She wasn't his sweetheart anymore.

[jackfollmanwriter-blog]

PTSD

I heard about how dangerous the drive between Baghdad and Fallujah were a million times, yet I still wasn’t as worried as I should have been. Riding in the back of the Humvee tended to zone me out and made me feel like I was riding in the back of my mom’s Suburban and not an armored truck filled with ammunition and unstable men with guns.

I didn’t even know what happened when we hit the roadside bomb. I suddenly felt myself flying through the air and my legs were burning. I landed hard on the side of the road in a pile of sand.

My legs felt like I had stuck them on a barbeque grill and left them there. I laid on the side of the road in the dirty sand, listening to the sound of the vehicle I had been riding in burning up and the sound of my comrades screaming out in pain. I wished I could have helped them, but I couldn’t even move my neck enough to look at them and see exactly what was happening.

I sucked in about 10 breaths before everything started to get blurry. At first I thought it was just tears welling in my eyes, clouding my vision, but I quickly realized my overall consciousness was being affected. I was slipping away.

The red hot cloudless sky of the desert faded. The burning hot landscape was replaced with a dark alley lined with brick walls on each side as far as the eye could see. I didn’t recognize the setting and it didn’t feel natural. It felt like part of a waiting area for a ride at an amusement park. There was nothing but the puddle-splashed dark asphalt at my feet and the endless walls of red brick that stretched as far as the eye could see in each direction.

I felt a warm splash of rain fall on my skull of buzzed hair. I looked up and saw a night sky of grey clouds hovering over me. A soft tap on my back interrupted my gaze.

I spun around and laid eyes on my younger sister, Bonnie, standing soaking wet in a white t-shirt fully stained with red blood and sopping wet with rain and her own bodily fluid. I jumped backwards when I noticed a savage, gaping wound on the side of her neck.

The sight before my eyes made me feel like my skeleton was going to run out of my body and turn me into a formless puddle of blood, guts and skin. My little sister Bonnie had been murdered three years before in Las Vegas and no one had the slightest clue as to who had done it.

Bonnie wrapped me in a soft hug. I felt blood trickle from her neck and run down my bare arm.

“I need you to help me,” Bonnie whispered into my ear.

Bonnie pulled away from me. The setting changed to that of a bustling casino. My nose tickled with the scent of stale smoke and cheap bourbon. The jingle jangle of the slot machines put me in a slight trance. I was almost knocked over by a cocktail waitress in a short skirt carrying a tray of watered-down drinks.

“Come find me,” Bonnie’s voice whispered in my ear, even though she wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Where?” I muttered to myself.

I scanned the casino without an answer. All I could see were endless blackjack and poker tables and grizzled gamblers. Based on the quality of the health of the clientele and the casino’s decorations, I assumed I was at one of the lesser hotel casinos on the strip, or maybe one of the ones on Fremont Street.

“Bonnie?” I called out into the crowd.

My scan stopped at a blackjack table a couple of rows into the floor from where I stood. I saw Bonnie’s back in a white shirt. She sat at the table by herself, playing cards and sipping her signature drink - vodka-cranberry-lime.

I walked through the tables until I was to the side of Bonnie’s table. I looked over at her. Her neck was now intact, soft and delicate with her favorite thin, silver necklace draped across, ending at the bottom with a pendant in the shape of a bunny. Her white t-shirt was clean. Her face focused on the cards in front of her in a grimace with her tongue slightly sticking out.

Bonnie motioned for a hit when I sat down next to her. She took a sip of her bright red cocktail and shook the ice afterwards. She asked for another hit.

The dealer - a swarthy young fellow with one of those haircuts where it is buzzed on the sides, but long on the top and flopped to one side with a small tattoo on his neck gave her another card.

Bonnie busted. The dealer gave her a sympathetic smile. She finished the rest of her drink. Her eyes glazed over just a little bit more. She exchanged a long look with the dealer.

“Watch,” I heard Bonnie’s voice in my ear, even though her mouth didn’t move at the table, she just stared at the dealer, whose nametag said Timothy..

The image of an empty, upscale hotel room flashed before my eye. The materials the furniture and counters were made of clearly too expensive for me to ever afford. My view of the room started in the doorway and slowly panned into the heart of the room.

I flashed back to the blackjack table. I watched Timothy deal Bonnie a couple of more cards. His hand lingered on her’s for a few seconds.

I flashed to the hotel room again. My view was past the initial tight corridor of the entrance and into the larger room with the king size bed in the middle and the sliding glass door of the balcony on the far end.

The pristine white comforter of the bed was soiled with the face-down body of Bonnie. A thick stream of blood had poured out of the gash in Bonnie’s neck and puddled on the comforter next to her head. I felt liquid rush to the back of my throat.

A blink. Back to the casino floor. I watched Timothy close down his table. I watched Bonnie polish off another vodka cranberry. I watched them walk away from the table and towards the entrance of the nameless casino.

I got one last flash of Bonnie lying still on that hotel room bed. Then it all started to fade away…

*

That was almost a year ago. That roadside bomb ended up taking my legs below the knee. What my brain showed me as I laid disoriented on the side of the road until I was brought to a base to have my life saved was much worse. Not a minute has gone by that I haven’t thought about those images. I was convinced I was shown the sequence of Bonnie’s death.

I went back to my hometown of Reno with my artificial legs and made my home back in my childhood bedroom at my mom’s house. I had plenty of time to rehab physically, but was stranded alone mentally with an absentee father and a mom who now had an amputee son just a few years after losing her daughter to an unsolved murder and a dead-end job as a grave shift blackjack dealer in the Silver Legacy Casino.

I wouldn’t stop talking about the visions of Bonnie I was given. I told me my mom. She told me to stop. She had come to terms with never solving the mystery of Bonnie’s murder and dismissed my visions as PTSD. I told my friends. Same indifference and excuse. I told the Reno Police Department and called the Las Vegas Police Department and got the same treatment, but not in such words. I was mainly dismissed because Bonnie was reportedly in the Los Angeles area when she went missing and her body was found less than an hour outside of LA. No clue ever linked her to Vegas anytime around then.

The only thing I wanted to do since I arrived back in the states was to go to Vegas and conduct my own investigation into Bonnie’s murder, armed with the information of knowing what the inside of the casino I saw looked like, the name Timothy, and the look of Timothy’s face. Problem was, I had no money, hadn’t learned to drive with my new legs yet and no one I knew was signing up to escort the guy they thought had a serious case of PTSD to Vegas to look for a murderer.

I did the only thing I thought I could do. I hitchhiked the seven hours from Reno to Las Vegas, until a guy with a mouthful of Red Man dropped me off at the end of the strip by Circus, Circus. The baking, 120-degree sun greeted me with a sizzle. I felt like a pile of steak on a fajita platter.

I made my way up and down the strip. Not a single casino floor looked familiar. I trekked to Fremont Street with no luck. I was 400 miles from home. Dog tired. Without a single clue. Without a single dollar in my pocket and a maxed out credit card as the sun set on the city of sin.

The only thing I could do was check into a hotel off the strip which almost looked worse than some of the bombed-out places I saw in Iraq. I laid down on top of the stained blanket and figured I would spend the next day checking the rest of the casinos in the city that are off the strip and then find a ride back up to Reno.

*

A hot cut of dread sliced into me as soon as I woke up to the sound of a knock at my motel room door. Nothing good ever starts with a knock on the door of a cheap motel room

I checked the clock on my phone - 3:30 a.m. I heard the hard knock again. It was not a - I’m a drunk 25-year-old with the wrong room knock, it was a, get the fuck up and strip off everything you own shitbag, knock.

“Look, I can get the key in forty-five seconds if I really want it so just open the door piece of shit,” a powerful male voice boomed on the other side of the door.

“Fuck me,” I whispered to myself.

“You better get moving or I’m gonna spray this door with bullets.”

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” I announced when I walked to the door.

I opened the door to reveal a guy covered in sores and tattoos with an irritated scalp of buzzed hair. He clutched a sizable handgun and carried an empty laundry bag.

“Sorry, it’s your unlucky day fucko,” the guy announced when he stepped into the room.

“Look man, I’m a disabled Iraq War veteran with nothing but the clothes on his back, a credit card with a maxed-out nine hundred-dollar limit and half-fake legs. You might have better luck robbing somebody else,” I explained.

“Ditch the sob story prick. I don’t give a fuck.”

The guy pointed the gun right between my eyes.

“You said fake legs. Titanium?”

I let out a defeated exhale.

“I think....

The guy squatted down and examined my artificial calves like a doctor who knew for a fact were titanium. He prodded them with the muzzle of his gun.

“They look removable.”

“Please man…

The butt of the gun hit me hard across the nose.

“Lay down. I’ve done this before,” the guy instructed.

I laid down. Blood gushed from my nose and down the back of my throat. I struggled to breath.

The pain from my nose blocked out the shooting pain from my legs. The guy wrenched on my false appendages until I felt them slide off of me.

“Nothing personal man. I’d rob my own mother...again,” the guy said.

I opened my eyes again to get a look at the guy. I only got a split second of vision. What I saw was the end of my own titanium foot coming hard at my face.

*

I came to in a darkened corner booth at the steakhouse in one of the casinos in Reno. The smell of one of the five or so restaurant-cooked steaks I have ever had in my life made my mouth instantly start to water. My hunger and its savor made me almost forget where I was.

My sad, pathetic trio family was clustered around the table. My mom to my left, probably just dying for a smoke and and for someone to order chicken so the bill would be a little smaller and Bonnie, clad in blue and white high school graduation garb to my right. I could tell Bonnie probably felt a little bit embarrassed that my mom was making such a big deal out of just graduating from high school. Her and I both knew it was just the bottom of the bar now, not an accomplishment that warranted aged ribeyes and Shirley Temples.

Nonetheless, we sat there, looking about as normal as we probably ever looked. A sharp sadness cut into me when I looked to my right again and saw Bonnie staring into the bottom of her pink soda. The girl never had a chance.

“Yes, I did,” Bonnie’s voice whispered into my ear.

I looked at Bonnie again, she stared at me with wide eyes and a straw stuck in her mouth, her lips sucking up the Shirley Temple.

“You should have been there,” Bonnie said to me, the straw stuck to her bottom lip.

“What?” I was in fucking Iraq,” I shot back.

“You two never took care of me. You think it sucks being a guy who had to grow up a poor piece of shit...well, it’s ten times worse for a girl. You have any idea how hard it is to turn down any guy who can ever offer you something, no matter how scary he is just because you’ve never had anything,” Bonnie went on.

“Bonnie, please. I’m try,” I felt tears hit the warning track in my eyes for the first time in a long, long time.

“And you’re fucking up again. You can’t even figure it out.”

“Please. I’m trying my best.”

“Well your best was never good enough,” Bonnie said just before my vision cut out again.

*

I opened my eyes and found myself back in a different dirty motel room. The layout of the room was almost identical, but the contents were different. A pink suitcase laid open, overflowing with women’s clothes on the floor next to the bed I laid on. A menagerie of unlit candles dotted the landscape. The smell of cheap perfume burned my nose.

“Thank God. I was worried you were dead, or in a coma, or something,” I raspy female voice cut off a heavy groan from my mouth.

I looked up and saw a woman I identified as a prostitute in .5 seconds standing at the foot of the bed. A tan face that looked like a hearty piece of beef jerky, teased blonde hair, a sloppy body cased in dirty jean shorts, a pink tank top and a few bad tattoos, she looked like a vixen from an 80s hair metal video who never left the strip club.

“I was going to take you to the emergency room, but I know that’s a risky move around these parts. Warrants and all. Plus, figure no one in this place has a sniff of insurance,” the woman said.

I focused in on the gal for a few seconds and let her come into full focus.

“The guy robbed me and hit me with my own leg?” I muttered, still dazed, phrasing it as a question.

The woman chewed on her lip for a few moments.

“If you say so. I didn’t see it. I was just walking back to my room and saw your door open with you lying bleeding on the bed. It was a bitch to drag you in here. You’re a few doors down now. You were out for about a half an hour since I found you,” the woman explained and then extended a hand with rings on each finger. “I’m Bobbi, by the way.”

I gave Bobbi’s dried-out hand a loose shake.

“Thanks.”

A shot of pain rushed to my head.

“I think I’m kind of okay,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ve definitely fought through worse without having to go to the hospital.”

I wiggled around on the bed. Remembered that I no longer had my false appendages. Moving around was going to be very difficult.

Bobbi sat down on the bed next to me.

“I’m so sorry about everything that happened to you,” Bobbi said, what seemed like genuine empathy marinated her words. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

I laughed.

“Do you have a time machine that can go back and get me out of that fucking recruiter’s office five years ago?”

“Sorry,” Bobbi shot back, not sounding the least bit amused.

“Sorry, sorry, but no, really. You don’t happen to have a ride back to Reno, do you?”

“I actually gotta ride leaving to LA in a couple of hours,” Bobbi said.

I pushed myself backwards to the back to the bed and sat up. My vision was still cloudy. I felt dried blood plastered to the side of my face. I looked at the bleak picture of Bobbi’s face at the foot of the bed. She had one of those looks where just a glance at her made you feel sad and this is coming from a guy who is missing the bottom half of his legs.

My options were limited. I could stay in Vegas, without a cent, and keep on the trail of Bonnie’s death and try to find some way to live and/or make money there. I could call up my mom like a beaten dog and beg for the money to go home. I could hitch hike back to Reno. Or, I could go with this broken women to LA and try and figure it out from there.

LA won. I always meant to check in with Bonnie’s friend’s family where she was staying that summer it all happened. She was supposed to be down there for a summer job at a waterpark and to stay at the house of her friend’s dad somewhere in the suburbs. I was always wary of the whole thing. I heard rumors from the older brother of Bonnie’s friend that the water park job may have been a ruse, they may have actually been going down there to dance at a strip club, or turn tricks. I dismissed it as bullshit at the time.

I was friends with Bonnie’s friend on Facebook and figured I could hit her up to at least talk to her. She responded to my messages in the past and said that she didn’t really want to talk about what happened, but she would meet up with me to discuss as much as she could if I was ever in LA. I thought this might be my broke ass’s only chance to ever get to the City of Angels. I took up Bobbi on her offer.

Bobbi set me up in the shotgun of her 2004 Chevy Malibu with no air conditioning. I stuck my head out the window like a dog about every 10 minutes to feel the wind in my face and find some relief from the sun which baked us on our way out of the city.

From the moment we set off, Bobbi seemed set on being some kind of therapist for me. She kept prodding at me with difficult questions. Growing up with my single mom, Bonnie’s death, the tours in Iraq, losing my legs and going back home. I felt that I almost wanted to jump out of her car and let the flying asphalt take care of me, and not just because of the oppressive heat.

I was tempted to ask Bobbi about her past. I was sure it was probably somehow even darker than mine, but I fought through it. I just machine gunned short answers to her heavy questions and looked out at the burning desert, those old demons rattling my soul until I started to fade out again.

My eyes opened back in Iraq. That burning hot Nevada desert was replaced by the sparse landscape outside of Baghdad, the joshua trees and dead shrubs all around replaced with crumbling buildings of a dead town. I didn’t remember the name of the village, but I definitely remembered the image of it. It was not something I wanted to remember.

I didn’t want to go there, again, but I quickly found myself paralyzed. I drifted through those dirty streets lined with homes which bordered on rubble. I could hear people milling about inside them, inside their pockmarked walls. I was always amazed at the resiliency of people who would live in a place even if it had just been carpet bombed.

I heard the distant chatter of gunfire. I heard the powerful shake of bombs dropping from closer than from where the gunfire came. I knew what was coming next. I put my arms out in a Jesus Christ pose and let it happen again.

The bomb hit about 10 feet behind me. It sent me flying in the air, through a thin wall of rotted wood and into the shell of a meager home built around a single stove.

I landed hard on the ground. The wind knocked out of me. My brain rattled like the bits inside of a maraca.

I could see the image in my mind before I even opened my eyes. It had haunted me since the day I was tortured by it.

I opened my eyes. There she was. Dead. A dead girl. Dead teenage girl. A, literal, dead ringer for my younger sister. Her eyes were just inches from mine, still wet, but gone. I could smell her breath.

It was not just a dead ringer this time. I was instead face-to-face with Bonnie’s actual body. I recoiled and tried to crawl away in the sand, but just kept sinking deeper and deeper into the coarse floor.

*

I woke up in the passenger seat of Bobbi’s car covered in a coat of sweat, my arms tensed and convulsing. I was fighting a battle against the seat belt and cloth interior of Bobbi’s car.

Bobbi’s giddish laugh welcomed me back to the real world. She stood outside my window, looking down at me with the hot sun burning behind her.

“Are you so fucked that your dreams are twisted too?” Bobbi asked.

I shook my head. Felt as I might faint from the heat and exertion.

“Why’d we stop?” I asked.

“It had to take a piss and it’s too hot. We need a break.”

I looked out the window and saw what looked like a lone casino behind Bobbi off in the distance. It looked to have some kind of half-assed Wild West theme.

“Where the hell are we?”

“Primm. Ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“You know how Laughlin is for people who like can’t afford Vegas?”

“Yes.”

“Primm is for people who can’t afford Laughlin.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“It’s a good enough place to take a piss, that’s about it.”

“I could go for that.”

Bobbi lifted me out of the car and into a motorized wheel chair.

“Snagged this in the lobby for you. Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Bobbi said once I was set into the chair.

I drove and Bobbi walked to the mouth of the casino through the blistering-hot sun.

That rush of sweet, sweet air conditioning never felt better when I walked into the dark, smoky casino and surveyed the lay of the land. A cold too deep to just come from the AC came over me.

This was the casino from the visions I had of Bonnie. Where she played cards. Where she left with the swarthy dealer. Timothy. Where I believe she met her demise. At Buffalo fucking Bills in Primm fucking Nevada.

This was what I came here for. That piss could wait. I made my way right to the blackjack tables. Combed through each, looking for Timothy.

Only about six or seven tables were staffed in the dregs of the day, but I decided I needed to stay. I waited outside the ladies room until I could inform Bobbi of my plan. She decided she would stay with me through the night. She could probably find some work for the night and make some money before she went to LA.

It took about eight hours and about 12 watered-down Jack and gingers to catch a glimpse of the man I was looking for. I was fantastically drunk when I saw Timothy walk up to an empty blackjack table and start setting up. I watched him prepare his table from over by the penny slots Bobbi and I were patronizing.

“I need some cash,” I asked Bobbi.

“You’re gonna ask someone who is ninety-five cents down on a Jimmy Buffet slot machine for cash?”

“I’m serious. He’s here.”

Bobbi’s eyes followed mine over to Timothy and his blackjack table just as he turned on his green OPEN light.

I started to head towards Timothy’s table. Bobbi stopped me.

“I have a better idea of how we can do this.”

I watched Bobbi saddle up to Timothy’s table from over the slot machines. I could tell she went right to work on him. I watched her lean over much more than necessary to pull her chips closer to her side of the table. Saw her whisper something in his ear.

Bobbi’s plan was to lure Timothy up into a room she had booked for another client she met earlier in the night. I could confront him there about everything. I wasn’t so sure Timothy would go for what I considered to be spoiled bait, but Bobbi assured me she could make it happen. She had drugs to ply him with if her body wasn’t enough.

Bobbi quickly walked away from the table. I followed her over to by the bathrooms where she said to meet if things were going well.

“Go up to the room. Three-twenty-three,” Bobbi said and handed me a key. “We’ll be up there in a minute.”

I cranked the AC in the room, but it just wouldn’t seem to chill. I sat in my chair staring out the window and listening to the hallway. I couldn’t wait to hear two pairs of feet coming up the way.

I had my script all ready for what I was going to say to Timothy as soon as he walked in. I couldn’t wait to just start blurting it out. I couldn’t wait to hit dial on that number to the Las Vegas Police Department. Tell them we had the guy. I couldn’t wait to tell my mom that I wasn’t mad with PTSD. I was actually a magician.

The ding of the elevator arriving outside the door make everything suddenly become real. I heard footsteps approach and suddenly lost all my confidence.

The door opened and Bobbi ushered Timothy in. He was initially relaxed, but his eyes flew into panic as soon as he saw me.

He stared down Bobbi.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked.

I tried to launch into my glorious solique, but couldn’t.

“Uh, uh, uh…”

“What gimp?” Timothy spat at me.

“You killed Bonnie,” I blurted out.

“Who the hell are you talking about?”

Timothy was still talking tough, but I could tell my question rattled him. His posture tightened. He started to blink rapidly as he stared at me.

“Bonnie Bagwell. You met her in this casino. Three years ago, in July. She was never seen again.”

Timothy let out a single laugh. He was out of breath.

“What did you do to her?” I yelled.

“Does it really matter,” He muttered under his breath. “She was a whore just like this one right here.”

I rolled off of the bed and onto the floor. Timothy went for the door, but Bobbi sealed it off.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Bobbi screamed in Timothy’s face.

Bobbi pushed Timothy. His slender frame fell over mine on the floor and he fell between me and the bed.

I pushed myself around and came face-to-face with his dark eyes. I closed mine.

I opened my eyes in a dark tent. The air was unbearable hot. I could feel my clothes had already been sweated through. I couldn’t see a thing, but I could feel that someone was in there with me.

My senses were confirmed when I felt the cold blade of a knife slash across my arm. I screamed out and recoiled until I was stopped by the thin plastic of the wall of the tent.

“Who is there?” I screamed into the dark.

“Ah fuck, I was just trying get that fuckin camel spider that got in here,” a raspy voice I didn’t not recognize answered back.

I felt the wind of the knife swipe at me before I could react. It seemed it barely missed the bridge of my nose.

I dropped down and put my hands out, reverted to my high school wrestling skills. I grabbed the dark assailant around the waste. I felt the knife flail over my shoulder. I had him in a hold which would prevent him from getting fatal leverage with his weapon.

My attacker gave me a hard kick in the gut, but I didn’t flinch. I drove my shoulder into him until I pummeled the wind out of of him and was lying on top of his panicking body.

I felt the knife fall out of his grasp and slide down my back. I grabbed the six-inch blade from behind me and wrapped it up in my hand, poised it at my side.

My wrestling partner fell on his own sword before I even had to do anything. I lost my breath when I felt the weight of the man slide onto the sharp blade of the knife. Based on the weight and tension on the end of the thing, it felt that it must have slipped just beneath the man’s rib cage.

A pained gasp let out in the dark, followed by a flurry of horrified screams. I yanked the knife out and felt the man fall hard on the ground next to me.

I slowly caught my breath as I listened to the man scream bloody murder next to me until I had to put my hands over my ears.

Light came back to my vision. I was no longer in that hot tent in the Middle Eastern desert. I was back in that steamy hotel room with the shitty air conditioning. I was on my knees looking down at the crumpled body of Timothy, forever stuck with his arms clutching his upper stomach/lower ribs. Blood flowed from his wound and onto the already-stained carpet of the room.

I looked at the knife in my hand. A thick coat of blood oozed down the blade. Timothy must have pulled the thing on me, I wrestled it from him and the blade ended up in his insides. Now he was dead.

“Ah fuck, what do we do?” I screamed at Timothy’s body.

“He came after you with the knife and then just fell on it,” Bobbi said from behind me. “I was a witness.”

“Shit. What do we do?”

“We should get the police involved. I can vouch for your story of self defense, but there’s something I think you should look at on this guy before we do that,” Bobbi said.

Bobbi walked around me and over to Timothy’s body. She unbuttoned a few button on his shirt and yanked down the collar area. She waved me over.

“Look at this. I saw a glimpse of it when he was dealing,” Bobbi said.

I joined Bobbi by the bed and saw what she was talking about. Tattooed just below Timothy’s collarbone were what looked like latitude and longitude degree numbers. Bobbi took out her phone and snapped a picture.

*

We called the police. It was messy. Luckily, Timothy had a lengthy rap sheet which kept the police from accusing us of too much. Bobbi mentioning that I was a freshly-mugged and disabled veteran about five times might of helped as well. We told them of our accusations about Timothy’s potential involvement in the death of Bonnie, but they didn’t seem to care. She was an already-forgotten dead person in another state.

The good news about the police’s disinterest was it left Bobbi and I to explore on our own. We punched the latitude and longitude marks into her GPS and set off back into the deep desert.

Our points took us to the a lonely road off a lonely freeway, off a lonely highway which eventually turned to an unmarked dirt path which Bobbi’s car could barely traverse. The points stopped next to a cluster of shrubs a few paces off of the road.

Bobbi hooked me up with some crutches before we left town, so I was able to push myself out to the points with her and squint against the sun and brace against the hot wind.

What waited for us was a patch of dirt with a tiny little black ball sticking out of it. Like one of those markers you might find on a golf course which marks where you can tee off. I pulled the thing off and got to work digging with my hands. Bobbi joined in with the crowbar which was in her trunk.

We found what Tom’s tattooed points led us to in the dirt. A dirty white arm bone, a couple of feet long, with a faded diamond ring hanging off of her ring finger and a silver pinky. I didn’t know the diamond ring, but I recognized the pinky ring as the one which came from her high school boyfriend on a Valentine’s Day that she always wore.

All that was left of Bonnie were some dirty bones in the desert. They never found her left arm, when they originally found her body in California, so it made sense that all we found was that piece of her body. The police always figured her left arm had been carried away by scavengers, not stashed in the Nevada desert by the man who had killed her.

What the police later discovered was that Timothy has been pimping Bonnie after he lured her into a relationship. He lived in LA, but worked weekends sometimes as a blackjack dealer in Primm for extra cash. He became enraged when he found out that Bonnie was going to go back to Reno in September to go to school after she had told him she was going to run away to be with him. The police suspected that he had given her an engagement ring and that’s why he buried her left arm closer to where he lived and tattooed its coordinates on his chest. They discovered old text messages on his phone and social media messages which confirmed everything.

*

Solving it all gave me some comfort, but it didn’t bring Bonnie back to life or stop me from getting horrific visions which seemed to be a mix of my past, my future and traumatic things connected to me even if I didn’t directly play a part in them. Every day is still a struggle.

Bobbi has helped. We bonded over the trauma of our destroyed lives. We went to LA to spend time together and cool off from the ordeal in Primm. I eventually convinced her to try and give up her profession for a while and get into therapy. She convinced me to do the same.

Bobbi and I live together with my mom in Reno, for the time being. It’s a difficult life, but it gets a little bit better most days.

The biggest positive development has been the evolution of my visions. No longer am I mired in the haunting violence of my time in Iraq, or of Bonnie’s bloody death. They have become more helpful visions of the future.

The best vision yet came last night. I saw Bobbi and I on the porch of a cabin, older. I watched as we held hands and supervised the sun as it set behind mountains in the distance above a glossy blue lake. I felt like this was a vision of things to come. It felt pretty damn alright with me.

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.